Saturday, March 31, 2007

Rocking Son of Dschinghis Khan



A Heavy dose of Disco helps the History Lessons go down?

T
Who likes Short Shorts?

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What are you really trying to say, Frank Baby? Have thine Oglish Peepers been deprived of your above-mentioned Preference in Eye Candy since John Stockton retired?

I applaud you for taking a stand for Tight Shorts Fetishists everywhere.

T
(from today's Saint Paul Pioneer Press Editorial page)

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Monday, March 26, 2007

Rest in Peace
Roger the English Pilldog
March 30, 1998 to March 26, 2007
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T
The First Lie of the Morning

There was this kid in High School (back in the mid-80s) that used to fill a backpack full of pudding and take advantage of it, Cosby-style.

Naturally, he was christened with the nickname Pudding Pop.

T

Thursday, March 22, 2007

You're Peckish for What?!?

One unfortunate way that the word APPETITE was mispronounced recently (by not me):

Ape Titty

Example ('though not the actual situation where APPETITE was mis-said):

"Y'know, Edwin...all this barn raisin' we've been up to today has really worked up my Ape Titty."

"So...er...you're proud of your pecs or are you offering to breast feed me?"

"What? You ain't hungry?"


T

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Looming Constitutional Crisis?

Don your Fro Wig, prance off to the Stevie Nicks Convention, and try your damndest to pass yourself off as Lindsey Buckingham's Id come to life.

Impossible you say?

Look into the Tambourine Satchel and Tell me what the Jingley Bits foretell.

They don't make for the Finest in Oracley Truthiness...but it sure beats smearing goat guts across a burlap covered card table and trying to divine the future, braille-style, with your fingers rummaging through the visceral lumps thereupon.

Which brings to mind the time my father, Jim the Sicilian, killed a Bat (that had found access to the inner sanctum of his Master Bedroom) with his Bare (and Bear-ish) Hands and, shortly thereafter, declared with a certainty most convincing that Man would one day invent shoes that required no laces.

And the Modern Day Cobbler Industry did Splurtch Forth Velcro Laden Footwear for the Masses to don without their common everyday Misgivings of Stubby Over-engorged Finger Niblets getting in the Way of Swanky Spats classing up their Fashionista Desires.

It's not like a Fellow's ever Dared to affix an overcooked wurst to their collar and call it an ascot...for this we can all agree on; although, perhaps, in our eager youthfullness, we've bounced a frank slice or three from our respective Spaghetti-O's Chug-a-Lunch down the front of our Grade School t-shirts...creating a Red Sauce/Weiner Juice Map of Shame leading to our Not Laps of Luxury.

Sad, really.

T
(this 2 minute writing exercise was brought to you by the Letter Yum and the Number Ouch)

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

From your Golden Throat to my Tin Ear
A sampling of what I might unleash on contestants if I were a judge on American Idol

...and a tenor most assuredly like that of a aged Howler Monkey, clad solely in un-talc'd leather pants, driving a T-Top 1975 Fiat Spider through a Touchless Car Wash.

T

Monday, March 12, 2007

Two of my Harley Riding Cow-orkers talk about the film WILD HOGS

CW1: Did you see Wild Hogs this weekend?

CW2: I sure did!

CW1: What did you think?

CW2: It was cute.

CW1: It really was cute, wasn't it?


That's right, kids...members of the Hog Straddlin' Leather Fetishists think the film WILD HOGS is CUTE.

CUTE.

So the next time you see one of them wearing a IF YOU CAN READ THIS THE BITCH FELL OFF shirts keep in mind that under that Crusty Swine Exterior resides highly questionable Comedic Taste.

T

Monday, March 05, 2007

Adrian Belew: Big Electric Cat

Live.

Sound quality isn't the best...but...still worth a look and listen

I Fret about your Salve

He's the kinda fellow that likes to keep, what would be considered in other less informed walks of life, an overly moist bango. Even modified a portable humidor to double as its case.

It gets worse; it has a spit valve. I'm not sure what he's using to keep it in said soaky state nor, obviously, what is seeping out when he 'uncorks' it...yes, the spit valve is actually a cork that he swiped from a Jug Band performer (he got backstage somehow--I suspect posing as a groupie and the promise of a grip-squip--and pinched a fist full of 'em...among other things...kaff).

Moist but not TOO moist I'd guess due to the presence of a means by which to ease up on its...er...dewy-ness.

That's one slicked up instrument.

Can't fault a man for this certain proclivity.

Heck...he's always been a bit off...he saw a guy with a tracheotomy and asked how much it cost his parents to have him cross-bred with a dolphin; he wanted a blowhole himself so that he could double as a wind instrument...like a jug or some sort of obscene living one-holed fife (we're going to refrain from noting his other Natural orifices).

Friday, March 02, 2007

Snowbound Music Corner

Robyn Hitchcock and the Venus 3

(A Man's Gotta Know his Limitations) Briggs

Live Version from their latest EP.

It gets bonus points for referencing David Soul's (TV's Hutch of STARSKY AND fame) character from the Dirty Harry film MAGNUM FORCE.

Enjoy.

AND

Hopefully I'll have some new stuff coming.

T