Monday, July 31, 2006

Unbare Bear with Request
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I hate to interrupt you fine gentlemen...but by any chance have you room at your table for a hungry bear in a medical gown and his pet street urchin? Oh...and he prefers the Bunny Slipper look; there's no accounting for taste amongst his kind.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Noam Lets his Hair Down

So I sez to Eco, I sez...Look Here, 'Berto. I'm the kinna guy likes tah rub one out from time to time...and don't try bein' all s'perior 'n Holier than Thoueth with me, Muthafuckah...I aints 'pressed with them robes your's, Day-Glo!

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

On the Road with the Foghat cover band BRUMECHAPEAU
An excerpt from their Daily Log

Day 37

"Slow Ride, my ass...almost NO RIDE. We pulled into town (the next on our tour's itinerary) with enough fumes left in the van's tank to make a gas huffer (or even bassist, Nedly) think twice before inserting his/her questing proboscis under the Gas Cap. Hell, let's be honest here; it wasn't so much a Gas Cap as it was the slagged remnants of a Elvisian TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS Replica Belt Buckle which had found itself rendered down to its current state during an unexpected pyrotechnic display (but nothing like Great White's disastrous Rhode Island gig) between sets at Manna Tee's Bar and Grille. Oh, wait...I said I'd be honest here. It wasn't so much an 'unexpected pyrotechnic display' as it was a small fire in Fugue Lou's pants pocket. The Tequila tranfusion he had underwent pre/during/post show had 'advised' him to 'cut out the middle man' by bypassing the readily available ashtrays and stubbing out his American Spirits in the aforementioned pocket. The eventual combustion of his threadbare Rustler's (sodden as they were with--duh--Booze) proved fiery enough to melt his highly regarded decorative beltbuckle. Fortunately, he was not actually IN his pants when the fire broke out; they had been promptly ditched when Nature (actually, Tequila Piss) came a' calling. It had been deduced by the collective brain skills and Holmes-ish Knack of our three roadies that the former PROPER Gas Cap had liberated itself from our Employ (and, naturally, it's very Reason for Existing) at a late night refueling stop (there is strong evidence that the loss was a by-product of the never-to-be-mentioned-again Ding Dong scuffle that had broken out between Nedly and CymbAlfred). Finding ourselves sans Gas Cap (and brushing off the suggestion to use one of Tour Bandanas as a temporary replacement...where do the guys think most of our profits come from anyway?) we soon noted that the ex-belt buckle was just the right size to stand in for our AWOL inanimate compadre. Talk about something positive coming from a not-so-positive 'freak' accident. We should remember to dedicate our next show to Memphis Lloyd; who knew his gift would do more than simply keep Fugue Lou's britches up AND keep the show on the road?"


Sunday, July 23, 2006

Exploding. Candy. Shorts.

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Golden Doodle Uber Alles (or What I Learned at a Party Last Night)

Golden Doodle: A cross between a Golden Retriever and a Poodle

I'm a dog person. I love my dog. He's a beloved member of my inner circle of close compadres (and the only one I allow to use my backyard as a about preferential treatment...although it is possible that a few of my Homo Sapien Pals HAVE secretly relieved themselves 'pon my's not like I'm in possession of Omni-Awareness nor a Piss Patrol that guards against the delivery of Human Waste into the Ecosystem behind my house). So I fully understand the excitement of a boy/man introducing a canine into one's Life Orbit. I truly do.

However, I was completely unaware that when the topic of Golden Doodle acquisitions arise all other unrelated conversation threads are strictly verboten, any non-Doodle chatter must end immediately, and all folk within earshot must bow to the metaphoric muzzle of not-present pup or the Ire of the Future Golden Doodle Owner (Golden Doodler?) will be unleashed (heh) upon the un-heeled in all its feral glory.

An example of this LAW being enforced follows (transpiring as it did around Midnight and many hours after the first mention of the Golden Doodle puppy):

Me: It's a damn shame the tickets for the Tom Waits show in Chicago sold out so fast. I would have liked to see him live again. The MULE VARIATIONS tour back in 1999 was fantastic.

Fellow Waits-ian: No kidding.

Doodler (overhearing this social faux-pas/paw): NO ONE CARES ABOUT TOM WAITS! GOLDEN DOODLE!!! GOLDEN DOODLE!!! We will only speak of the Doodle!!!

Me and Fellow Waits-ian (in unison): Sorry.

Doodler: Right. Exactly. So, as I was saying...

In actuality, he hadn't been...he HAD been quietly leaning against a kitchen counter. Although I now suspect that an Inner Dialogue with the Main Thesis of Golden Doodles had been raging within his cerebellum...of which, naturally, we had been completely uanwares....what with his not talking and all.

Perhaps the dude's zeal of the soon-to-be-acquired puppy was amped up via the intake of many alcoholic beverages, raising the fellow's inherent passion of said dog breed. Perhaps he's not a Tom Waits fan. Either way, as was quickly apparent, never allow a Non-Golden Doodle Topic Embargo emerge...stemming the flow of Doodle Discussion even when no one else is talking about anything.

This PSA was brought to you by the Fine Crossbreeding Dog Imagineers worldwide and their continued pursuit of Hybrid Vigour.

Saturday, July 22, 2006

The TIP Signal!

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To the TIPmobile, Roger!!!

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Thursday's Hypothetical Question

You've just finished eating a gallon of Neopolitan Ice Cream and, in your gleeful gorging, now find yourself coated from forehead to mid-sternum in sticky formerly frozen dessert run-off. You're scheduled to meet your fiancee's parents in three minutes (was it your fault that you noted a Baskin-Robbins on your way to your fateful rendez-vous and have an uncontrollable weakness for said treat...not to mention that your frayed nerves had raised your peckishness to a level that could only be described as deliri-icious?) and desperately need to clean yourself off. Scanning about the interior of your 1982 98 Oldsmobile for something suitable to use as a towel you quickly realize there are only two items that might be utilized to clear the fluidic debris from your person and you have to pick one.

They are:

A plush Clydesdale left behind in your vehicle by a teen hitchhiker you gave a ride to a week earlier. However, the mere sight of this stuffed equine brings back a terrifying incident from your youth which involved your beloved grandfather's forehead fatally encountering the foreleg of a bucking mule. Do you want to be red-eyed with tear-streaked cheeks when meeting the future-in-laws? They may consider you a real Nancy Boy and never agree to allow the marriage to go forward.


The unwashed mawashi of your friend the Amateur Sumo Wrestling Enthusiast/Hobbyist (you have no idea how this oversized 'thong' got in your car; your friend may be a bit of a prankster OR woefully absent-minded about his ass-wrap). While it would certainly clear you of the Neopolitan waste material slowly drying on your skin it would definitely leave you smelling of the sweaty hindquarters of your corpulent chum (with possibly the slightest hint of Ceremonial Sumo Salt...unless the odor is entirely fat man derriere dew). What would the potential In-Laws think of a future Son-in-Law that reeked in such a manner? Would their distaste for said stink hint at a form of Olfactory Racism? Would you want to marry into a family that would raise their noses under these circumstances?

Say Wha Wha?

We take a break from your Regularly Scheduled Hypothetical Question to bring you this Misheard* Moment.

She said:

"I didn't mean to cause a scene."

TIP heard:

"I didn't mean to kick your inseam."

And, really, it is kinda the same thing, idn't it? I mean...when you render it down to its base bits, eh?

*not to be mistaken for MIS-HERD a la a Shepherding Mishap. That's for another column.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Tuesday's Hypothetical Question

The local Hobo-Core crowd catch wind that you are employed at a bakery and confront you after work as you leave with a day old loaf of cracked wheat under your arm. The intentionally unprimped bedraggled gaggle of bum-esque scenesters threaten you with bodily harm unless you surrender the bread (which you know will be used to filter Lysol through; the 'extract' a popular inebriant amongst this particular Music/Fashionista collective).

What do you do?

Surely they cannot keep pace with you in their toeless shoes and low-slung pants-nee-rain-barrels!

Surrender the loaf!
Bindlesticks can double as effective flails (if their respective kerchiefs are pre-ladened with rocks, a brick, or three or four old shoes) and no day-old is worth the potential contusions and/or head injuries.

Demand the title of KING of their Clan for all the free day-old loaves they could ever need for their nefarious mouthwash distillings.


Monday, July 17, 2006

Monday's Hypothetical Question

A friend confesses to you that he likes to unwind by spending a couple nights a week at an area batting cage. You don't think much of this statement since hitting some baseballs is a decent way to unwind after a long day with one's nose to the millstone. Said friend then adds conspiratorially that he's not down there actually swatting leather spheres about but fondling the freshly used bats as "the ambient warmth on the carved ash hilts" really make his "Charlie Hustle."

Do you recoil in disgust at this eccentric fetishism


Giggle at the use of Pete Rose's nickname in reference to his Old John Thomas?


Saturday, July 15, 2006

The Return of Bill Carter?

Bill Carter, former frontman/guitarist of one of the most criminally underrated bands of all-time, The Screaming Blue Messiahs, RESURFACES with two demos.


This made my damn day/year/decade.

Looking forward to any/all new material from this performer.


Teachin' the Young the DEVIL'S FIST

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A Charitable Offering for the Aspiring Bands with a Lack of Moniker Ambition

A smallish listing of potential Band Names and/or Nonsense from which the Flummoxed Almost 'Rock Stars' can choose from:

Moon-Key Shines

Inseam Sloth

Hot DaGo-Go Gopher Headdress

Nuget Infused Coin Purse

Ill-Fated Brimley Trousers

Farmer McKensie's Self-Churned Overall 'Aloe'

Watering Hole-itosis

Spiney Bifida, the Spasm Man

Unbathed Cow-orker's Cubicle of Malador

Continental Divide starring John Belushi

Inuit Igloo Mating Goo (with complimentary Walri-Tusk Shiv)

Mr. Do's Shame Nozzle

Ray Bradbury's Dandelion Wine (tapped straight from his Urinary Tract)

Russian Bathhouse Squeegee Debris

Asexual Food Entourage

Liam Gallagher's Tambourine Murse

Gary Glitter's Panel Van Seasoning

Iberian Peninsula Rain Gutter

Birch Bark Ca-noodling

Thursday, July 13, 2006

Today's Overheard Smidge of Conversation

"Did ya hear that the President got a gift of a Barrel of Herring when he was visiting Germany? The news folk didn't say anything about the dimensions of the barrel but I have to imagine it'd be bigger than them little barrels Saint Bernards have slung 'round their necks full of liquor, dontcha think? That's a lot of God Damn Herring. Unless the gift barrel IS actually full of liquor...what's 'Herring' mean in German? No, I don't think it means "Mister-ing," but I can't be sure...what the Hell would MISTER-ING mean? STILL, whatever was in the barrel, it's a LOT of something. S'pose it's a fitting gift for a dignitary of his stature. Closest I ever came to something comparable in the former-alleged-sealife-packaged-present department was this time I found a box of Mrs. Paul's Breaded Fishsticks bound together with an natty-looking ascot secreted in the big front uni-pocket of my dad's overalls. Which, come to think of it, was also a fitting gift for a man of HIS stature, considering his 25 year stint as a Wader Tailor..."


Tuesday, July 11, 2006


Good Luck!

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Monday, July 10, 2006

Fear Roger's Bladder Stone Cannon!!!

50 Plus Launched forth from his Hoo-Hoo-Dilly Today...and the World Trembled.

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While others attempted to dodge the Torrential Piss-Storm that Followed...


Thursday, July 06, 2006

Somewhere over the Rainbow

'Scuse 'pear to be a fellow's that cracked a few books in his time...maybe even took some correspondence courses to amp up yer ICK...


Yeah...that Smarts they weigh or measure how much thinkin' ya gots sloshin' 'round in yer melon bowl? ICK, idn't it?

I think you mean I. Q. The letters stand for Intelligence Quotient and you just say the letters seperately and not like they're a word.

Ah HA! You is a real Brainiactical fellow, for reals. Cool. 'Kay, so you gots the smarts; have ya also been 'round 'bout the world and been that two-wrist type ah guy...seein' the sights, soakin' in the worldly 'speriences?

Uhm...well...both of my arms are still wholly've got two wrists.

Damn Straight. A Globetrotter to boot! meant TOURIST. Right. Sure, I've travelled a bit in my time.

Swee'. Kay, uhm...ever been off the Earth?

What? Do you a plane? Hovering? A rocket ship?

Not 'sactly sure how you'd get there...but that's okay...either ways, this has gotstah be muh lucky day. Kay, I got a question fer ya, I'm-Stein; ya ready or you gotta warm up yer bean afore gettin' down to some serious noodle-scratchin'?

Er...sure...go ahead, I guess.

AND charitable. Youse a Saint, John the Bap-Timian...'cept with yer head still restin' properly 'pon yer neck-stalk. Kay, here goes: Ya ever hear o' a place called Ass-Guard?

Ass-Guard? Ass-Guard. Do you mean ASGARD, the mythical domain of Norse Deities? THAT Asgard?

Sounds right. I think we be on the same page and shit. Good. I think one ah them sum-beeches stole muh dog Mistah Chompers.


Don't be givin' me that look, man...I be serious. I'm pretty sure the guy's name was Hymie-dale...somethin' like that. Hymen-dill? High-Dull?

Heimdell? Are you telling me that the Norse Deity HEIMDELL, the Guardian of the Rainbow Bridge leading to Asgard, absconded with your canine companion? Inebriated much or are you a bit late on your meds schedule?

Yeah...fucker SAID he worked security. Fucker stole my muthafuckin' dog Mistah Chompers. With all his THOUs and DOTHs and FUCKeths and Shit. Fuck!!! Heimdell. That's the fucker. Wanna help me get me doggie back? He was a big muthah...I could use an assist.

Uhm...Sure...Let me go get my Magical Goats and Chariot which I left parked over at the KFC. I'll be right back.

Cool. Cool. I'll wait fer ya here and hone my shiv.


Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Word Booya

Three words/phrases found in one sentence uttered today by this Site's Author


One of the below is correct...but which one?

"I was lounging in EasyPants, enjoying some Lasagna, and, taking note of my dog's drool-enhanced interest in my meal, decided to share some with him; unfortunately, in his Get-in-my-Gullet-Lasagna-Enthusiasm his tongue lodged a portion of it in his nose-holes."

"When baking Lasagna I've found that my Nose-hole's Sniffin' Talents are heightened when I'm clad solely in EasyPants; which is odd considering the distance between these two parts of my anatomy when I'm standing up and their complete lack of similarities in functions."

"I don't care if you wrap your homemade Lasagna in a decorative pair of EasyPants and sing a stripped down version of SMOOTH OPERATOR playing a harmonica out of one of your noseholes; I'm still not getting in the jacuzzi with you."