9622.net

Those eyes...I mean, those fricken' eyes...........It's like a Monkey Balrog...

Damn you, Crash!

Mummy!

Okay now, THAT'S cool. Thanks, crash.

My soul! My soul!

Mefi is not worth the damned aggravation. Nobody listens and everybody is so nauseatingly smug. There and everywhere else is splitting off into polarized camps and both sides make sick. All the fucking posturing and rhetoric, and clubbiness. And 90% of the time they'll win. They're smarter. They're better educated. They actually give a shit. But I still don't trust 'em.

Sometimes I feel like I shoulda just stayed in my parents attic and sat around listening to Rush records and reading crime novels and thinking I knew shit. I'da prolly been better off.

Sorry, just hadda rant.

wow, which post set you off, Jon?

all of em.

See, but here, there are demonic red monkey eyes. That makes it okay.

Demonic red monkey eyes are like pizza and blowjobs...even when they're bad they're still pretty good...

And these are pretty good.

[/cliche]

Sometimes I feel like I shoulda just stayed in my parents attic and sat around listening to Rush records and reading crime novels and thinking I knew shit.

Then you would have wound up like me. And how much fun is that? [/angst]

Actually, bad blowjobs are really fucking bad. I believe you're thinking about sex in general.

[mefi]
You're wrong! No, you're wrong!
[/mefi]

We're all in this to get her.

I feel your pain, jon. I think the best kind of mefi hiatus' are not the big storming off in a huff ones that so many members seem to do, but the ones in which you don't declare that you are not going, but the ones where you find yourself clicking the link after a few weeks and seeing hundreds of new threads since you last logged in, enjoying a few links, and leaving. You never really left, but all the nonsense takes a serious back seat.

Adam, that house really looks good. I hope everything goes well for you and aw on this!

I got a huge lump in my throat when I heard the news about Johnny Cash this morning. It's a consolation that he did so much living, but you can't help but wish for more.

The first person I thought of was Kafkaesque. Sorry, Mr. K.

jon, you have your own blog for that bullshit. don't bring it here.

What can you say?

Johnny will be missed, but I think a world without June was a world he didn't want to be in, and it's hard to fight when your strength has left you.

I'll just listen to the music and be happy with what The Man left us.

Also, I stole your photo, Lupo.

Let's not fight.

*group hug, Jon, Lupo, everyone*

Lupo's right. I wrote that late when I was drunk after a pointless brawl with a jerk. I dunno why I let it bother me.

Damned shame about Cash, though. Kaf's right about June & Johnny. I amazed at love that strong.

I admit to not really getting all that upset when a favorite artist dies, because the work is 99% of how they'll ever be understood.

Having said that, my first thought was also "aw, hope Kafka doesn't punch out his wife."

Um. Thanks.

Sorry I was snippy, jon.

Mi photo es tu photo, kaf. It's funny, my post originally had the lyrics to "Meet Me in Heaven" but I reconsidered partly because I know it's one of your favorites, and I figured you might quote it.

Johnny and June's love gives an old cynic like me hope.

And it's like Senator Resin says, you can't really be too upset when celebrities go. You recognize that any hurt you feel is all about you...not about them.

Unless they still owe you money, of course.

Damn that Tiny Tim.

I remember when I got the "Love-God-Murder" box set a few years back and hearing "While I've Got It On My Mind," coming from the same man who was the gleeful badass of "A Boy Named Sue" and the sheer horror of "Delia." It just kind of stunned me how he could express both frightening brutality and incredible gentleness so sincerely and beautifully.

And it's all because Johnny understood deeper than most how it feels to be human.

Johnny and June's love gives an old cynic like me hope.

What's a handsome feller like you being cynical about? C'mere and let your tizzie give you a big kiss.

Nah. We all know those things, jon. He just expressed with the kind of clarity that allows us to understand them more fully.

In other news: remember the incredibly bad "wingman" advice for guys on the make? here's some equally bad advice for the ladies.

Especially during the soup course.

"former stripper Ducky Doolittle"

Oh, right. *shudder*

Sadly, in most NYC restaurants they'd probably be taken for a newfangled napkin.

While I am very moved by Mr. Noir's death, and shed a few tears for him, I am also oddly moved by John Ritter's death.

Seriously. I mean, one day you're shooting a show that brought you back from star invisibility, the next you're dead. While Johnny Cash's death is moving because he was a cultural giant and gifted artist, John Ritter's death makes one realize how fleeting life can be. Johnny Cash lived his life to the fullest, and I believe he probably died when June died back in May, proving that true love is stronger than anything else. Ritter, goombah that he was, clearly had not lived all he thought he might.

So there. I was sad when the guy from Milli Vanilli died too.

I'm (irrationally) bitter at Ritter for dying the same day as Cash.

Yeah, I can see the sort of cosmic joke of the juxtaposition, too.

Sorry, Lupo.

And it's like Senator Resin says, you can't really be too upset when celebrities go. You recognize that any hurt you feel is all about you...not about them.

When John Lennon was shot, the hurt was universal. I stood at a memorial with a lit candle and cried, and some of my tears were for myself and for what Lennon and the Beatles meant to me - but the loss was so sudden, so huge and so violent that my tears were for Yoko, for his baby son, and for what had happened to the whole world.

Jpo speaks for me as well. In fact, I gave that a brief rant at my site.
It's goofy, but it feels disrespectful of John to die on the same news cycle as Johnny.

I don't think he did it on purpose.

Less than six degrees: Ritter was incredible in Sling Blade. Dwight Yoakum was also incredible in Sling Blade. Dwight Yoakum is on the Johnny Cash tribute album, Kindred Spirits.

It's goofy, but it feels disrespectful of John to die on the same news cycle as Johnny.

Just like it was disrespectful for John Lennon to get shot the same day Darby Crash died!

Very sad day. I'm surprised my dad hasn't called. Maybe he's already too drunk.

I had only just turned 9 when John Lennon was shot, but I already knew enough about him to be bummed.

I remember that right after he died, my dad sneered at the people at the vigils and stuff, saying that it was "stupid," for people to get that upset over some singer. This was probably the beginning of my alienation from my family.

actually I had just turned 10. math is hard.

I was 7, heavily into Judas Priest, and wondered why someone would go and re-shoot that dead Russian guy John Lenin.
I didn't eat right, what can I say.

Wasn't there a SNL skit about that, dong? About some guy that bought Lenin's corpse and everyone came by to look at it expecting John, only to be disappointed when that found out that it was Vladimir! Ilycich! Lenin!

I think it was back right after the USSR finally fell. You know, when SNL was funny. Or I was 12. Whichever.

Oddly, I do not remember the day Lennon was shot. I remember the day Anwar al-Sadat was assassinated. I don't know why I'd remember one and not the other, though I can say we were more of a Stones family.

Apropos of nothing: I have it on excellent authority that Dwight Yoakam is a colossal asshole.

Steve Earle's no fucking prize either, according to my source in the know. On the other hand: Waylon Jennings? "A true gentleman."

I don't remember about John Lennon, but it was a sad, sad day in our household when Buckwheat was shot.

Oddly, Sadat was an example of someone "more important" that my dad gave, although I don't recall him being big into Mid-East politics either. He was just being a contrary bastard. Like father, like son, I guess.

wondered why someone would go and re-shoot that dead Russian guy John Lenin.

he was WORTH shooting twice! Just to be sure. Since we couldn't nuke the site from orbit.

...You know, when SNL was funny.

SNL is yet another fine example of why performers need a little leeway in the recreational drug department.
I say Jimmy Fallon somewhere going on about how drugs have been a "hideous waste of talent" for SNL. Like he'd know.

I never saw the skit you mentioned. I wish they'd stick to rerunning the 5 good years instead of the extraneous following 20 odd years of pap.

I left a message on my ex's phone this am when I heard, before I went to sub classes. When i talked to her later (we're still pretty close), all she had to say was "you didn't cry when we broke up, but you did when you heard that Johnny Cash died?" She just doesn't understand.

Cowboy_sally was the same age when Lennon was shot that I was when Kennedy was shot.

You know, like waayyyy before you were born, you pipsqueaks.

C_S - you remember when Sadat was killed too? How did the news reach you? I remember seeing it on the McNeil-Lehrer News Hour, after Electric Company. I wondered why they killed George Jefferson (I thought Sadat looked like Sherman Helmsley). Freaky.

Apropos of nothing: I have it on excellent authority that Dwight Yoakam is a colossal asshole.

Interesting. I like Dwight's music a lot, but suspicions of assholery began to creep in when I saw the awful "South of Heaven, West of Hell". Only a dyed-in-the-woll asshole could have visited that pile of poo on the movie-going public.

My first thoughts after hearing about Los Hombre Negro were also about Kafkaesque. Strange that.

You know, when you talk about celeb death pairings, you can't beat the "Lady Di + Mom Theresa" Combo Pack.

I'm probably never gonna meet Dwight Yoakam, so I don't care if he's a sadistic clown. Actually, I kind of wish he'd explore that assholiness a little more than he does. I bet it would serve him well.

And Three's Company was the first sitcom I ever remember thinking, "This is really, really stupid."

This hour of World Cafe features Warren Zevon's music. It's on streaming audio at www.wnku.org.

you? I remember seeing it on the McNeil-Lehrer News Hour, after Electric Company

Shit, notsnot, were we raised by the same folks? I was only allowed to watch PBS. This is indeed how I found out.

Oh, and tizzie? Who's Kennedy?

(sorry, I just like teasin' the old'uns.)

Shit, notsnot, were we raised by the same folks?
Well, I dunno...my parents are pretty conservative, and sent me to catholic grade-and high-school. I escaped all that after I got out of college. Despite that it probably hurts Rush's feelings, my mom still donates to PBS. I'm trying to get them to start listening to NPR and my own favorite radio station, KDHX which just played my own requested set of songs covering and including Johnny Cash.

By the by, if anyone has a hankerin' to get some Cash discs as a result of his demise, I'd recommend The Essential Johnny Cash 3-disc set as the primo choice for first Cash purchases. From Hey Porter...all the way up to 1983. Also, CostCo at least used to have that set for under 20 clams.

(sorry, I just like teasin' the old'uns.)

But she knows I've still got it.

Now, git off my lawn!!!

Thanks, tizzie! (for the comment way up there, sorry, it's been a loooooong day)

Some guy has decided to take my entry about Johnny Cash's death and use me as a public example of what's wrong with blogdom. Ankle biting BS like this makes me wonder if it even freaking worth it anymore.

More beer needed.

Less than six degrees: Ritter -He was the youngest son of Western film star and country music legend Tex Ritter, according to his biography on ABC's Web site.

lupo, delete that last post of mine.

Jon, pay it no mind. This is a more and more common literary device known as "Having A Problem With Something Because There's Nothing Else To Write About."

Telltale signs? It's a new blog, a presumably new (or just not very good) blogger, and a randomly chosen cultural target. What kind of fuckhead attacks a well meaning blog when there's so much shitty large media about? A new one. Also, the odds are good that he's in fact a regular reader since part of the HAPWSBTNETOWA's M.O. is putting forth very little effort, and hence they lash out at what's conveniently nearby.

Merely a tick, inseginfigant small and sucking, and of no consiqunce.

Not that I'm telling you to not drink, you understand.

DON'T YOU DARE, LUPO, I JUST SPENT 10 MINUTES CORRECTING SPELLINGS.

You'll take my condolence and like it.

Why aren't you at your wedding, daddy dong?

Hey, vladsi doesn't even own a TV, so he can STONE COLD SUCK IT.

Look who's back! That just made this sucky day a lot better, I think.

Er, I took Johnny Cash's death pretty badly. He was only 71 - I was expecting a lot more.

Also I really liked him and looked up to him.

Damn that.

jon, that dude's pretty much a prick. don't listen to 'im.

johnny was 71, but he had the body of a 100-year-old.

Fuck Johnny Cash*, isn't anyone going to at least go post a welcome back comment at the 'bottle?

Bastards†.

*no, not really, but I figured that'd get yer attention, at least.

† except Tiz - she's the queen of the scene, baby!

Ijust come back fromma evening out with vidiot and chicobangs. vidiot is still staggering hom eas we speek. The bar apparently was the site of a former terrorist cell. anywayxs, we drank a lotta booze. some broad offered me her dress in exchange for my Buddy Bradley t-shirt. she had danced on the bar so i took er seriously, but i said no, coz I'm pure at heart,

What anite. chicobang is prolly still there drinkin'.

welkum back, stavros, you magnificent bastige.

the same broad who ofered me her dres saidthat my eyeswould look great if I waxed my brows, so dshe may be nuts,

Heh. PUI at it's best!

Didya hear?? I'm the queen of the scene! WooHOOO!

(stavros: check your paypal account - that one was worth the big bucks *wink*)

Honestly, I do feel bad about that 'Fuck JC' comment.

So here's an amusing picture illustrating how Jon will probably feel tomorow, to compensate :

One correction. I did not stagger. I weaved.

And yes, I do feel like that.

More details here.

um, vidiot, chico...did I--by accident or on purpose--run into something really hard last night? I have mysterious pains and unexplaned bruises in my right quadrants. Please clarify me.

Morning!

Jon, unless you got into it with the tabledancing eyebrow waxer (whose boytoy has apparently seen me play live, like, 80 times or so. Go figger), I don't know what in the world happened to your quadrants. You were snockered but pretty much docile.

Now. Vidiot (aka Mister Most Mackinest) was in the thick of it all night. His self-confidence carried the room. Seriously, y'all, he was somewhere between Mr. Roarke and Bluto Blutarski all night.

This sounds like a particularly smash(ing) (ed) evening! Were photos taken?

Come to think of it, might be better if there weren't...

Photos were not taken.

(Thank God.)

Miguel! You wasted a perfectly good animal pictures post over there where no one appreciates you!

If you had posted it over here, I would have gotten all love-stuck and wanted to have your babies. Well, maybe I still do anyway....

*rushes headlong into the South wall; stumbles back; rushes into the North one; mumbling something about tizzie and the heady smell of jasmim in the late summer afternoon; collides with door*

You are in a twisty maze of passages, all different.

Dude, the (hitherto) unexplained bruises on my flank and arms are growing bigger. I really whacked the shit outta myself. When vidiot stopped by last night, I told him that I remembered that I got them when I neglected to hang onto the pole and the train stopped and I went ass over teakettle over two rows of perpendicular subway seats and richocheted myself offa some steel railings. It didn't hurt at the time. Vidiot claimed to have no memory of any of this, which dosen't surprise me one bit. But it did happen and I've got the scars to prove it. Hell, I'm actually relieved. I was worried I had tried to beat up a parking meter, as is my wont when drunk.

As for me, that parking meter had it coming. Too bad it kept moving too fast for me to punch.

Jon, do you come from a small town, not much to do in the evenin'?

suburb of a small city, not much to do there either.why?

but we live in the biggest city of all now.

I just wrote my meanest restaurant review ever. Excerpt:

"Was that "mamaw's" recipe? Oh, I see - she wasn't really your grandmother, she was the frozen vegetable guy's grandmother."

Heeheehee - I feel wicked. I may just get a little tipsy now.

Me and Bari are off to meet senor vidiot at this noodle joint in Union Sq. (me and her have been before, he hasn't. If this bruise gets darker I should have him photograph it. It's fuggin' gnarly.

Tizzie, as a fellow critic, I looooove a scathing review. Send me a link or email me the finished piece when you get it all finished up.

And, AN ANNOUNCEMENT:

Finally, after about a year and a half, I got my CD burner to work. I am now paring down the 100 or so tracks I selected as "maybes," trying to figure the best arrangement for my first ever mix.

If you want in on this noise, just let me know. Postage on is on me.

Hope you like Bel Biv Devoe!!

Jon, my little comment was a modified version of a line from a famous movie.

When asked why he was cutting the heads off of parking meters (the infraction for which he landed in the work camp), he just says, "small town, not much to do in the evenin'."

Any man who loses his spoon, spends a night in the box

I haven't been drunk enough to get Mystery Bruises in a long time.

I think tonight's the night.

(Also, my buddy Craig (of the past mexican adnvetures some of which are chronicled on the 'bottle) is offering to pay my airfare for me to come and hang with him in Zihuatanejo. I hope he remembers the offer when he sobers up!)

Dong quoted at Gawker!?!? Wierd.

Sorry about that, still early.

Dong quoted at Gawker!?!? Weird.

I guess it's actually not so strange if Choire is still doing his guest spot over there. Proceed...

I thought Senator Resin was part of Gawker. He talks about it on his blog muchly.

Maybe they could just rename it "Gawking At Dong."

Although that would perhaps attract "interesting" visitors.

Our Lord Dong_Resin was recently cited in the Online Journalism Review. He is like a myth among men, kinda sorta.

Really, get with the program!

I am obviously behind the "dong curve." heh.

dong is so a-list.

But will he remember the little people?

And I don't mean midgets. Those he'd never forget.

Recent Dong_Resin Fan Club Meet-up.

Look, he's too busy a-listing to even check in here.

He's having a cup of coffee somewhere with Anil, Ernie, Jason and Meg.

Does that pull us up by proxy? At this rate, by the end of the year, I'll make R-List.

There isn't even a letter for the list I'm on. I think it has to go into puctuation before I show up.

Apparently ASCII has something like 21,000 characters. I'm sure one of them is our list level.

Me, I'm just happy to be indoors.

You won't see me until you start using Wingdings.

Oh, and speaking of hobnobbing with a-listers, one of us actually did it this weekend.

High cabinet positions and cable punditry are clearly just around the corner for all of us now.

cable punditry?

Does that mean I get a show on the Food Network?

Only if "hobnobbing with" can be interpreted as "Freshen that coffee up for you, sir?"

Note my blog's tagline (and its attendant delusions of grandeur.)

Tonight when I was walking up Mott Street through the Feast Of San Gennaro, I stumbled upon a new addition to the Pantheon Of Grease the Deep Fried Oreo. Deelicious. I wanna cardiac wing named after me.

Deep Fried Oreos...I just...I don't....I'm not sure...

Hey, I've gone through the post-breakup-candy-aisle-clear-out at the supermarket....but deep fried Mars Bars and deep fried Oreos, those are just scary.

But I should conquer my fears, I think. I have heard that conquering your fears is psychologically healthy, even if it chokes your arteries. What the hell, there's universal health care here. Heart attack won't cost me a penny.

writes down "find deep fried oreo or mars bar in Las Vegas"

Speaking of fried Oreos, those monkeys of the female persuasion might wanna stop by a particular stand and ask for Marc.

Remember, LADIES ONLY.

Ooh. A free fried Oreo. I could give being cute and sexy a shot. How hard can it be?

It's not that hard. I get away with pretending to be just that *all the time*.

I mean, for free sweetstuffs, it's a pretty fair tradeoff, no?

Let's get a few things straightened out.
1. When I am, in fact, A-list, absolutely nothing will change, except that I'll finally have the wherewithal to openly resent you all, rather than mince about and kowtow to you chumps like I do now.
None of your relative status will increase one iota, becasue when you look back for me, all you'll see is a faint dong-shaped cloud. I just know badly writing goofy shit and then giving it away for free will pay off in silver dollars one day, and I'm gonna surf that power wave on a board made for one. Hear that? UNO.

2. Evidently, Liz Spiers and Choire buzz past my site on occasion, and when I burp up something relevant to what's going on at Gawker, they will sometimes quote it, thereby avoiding having to think up stuff to fill just that much more page. Win-win. I'm not officially a part of Gawker.

3. While installing Movable Type is not quite the ordeal that people make it out to be, installing it whilst listening to that Bone Machine record is probably not a good passtime if you've ever been given to suicide.
By the time Whistle Down the Wind repeats back for the 4th time, Tom's going on about the wreck his life has become and you're looking at error messages written in something like Klingon, there isn't a thing under the sink you won't give a little cursory sip, you know, just in case it's finally time to put a stop to things.

I had forgotten that San Gennaro was even going on (I'm a bad Eye-Talian, I realize). I had just walked down Canal to get some chinese dinner at Wo Hop, then walkin' back up Mott Street, I went smack dab into the festival. Sadly, as tasty as the Oreos were, they do not sit well on top of fried dumplings, orange chicken, zeppole and a honeydew tapioca milkshake.

Oooh, mah belly.

Hmm, free food for cute sexy girls. Maybe I shoulda traded that chick my shirt for her cocktail dress... But then I'd have shave and get heels. But free funnel cake....

**clutches head despairingly**

I am mainly interested in sweet, sincere, open-minded, and adventurous ladies.

But if there are none of those, he'll settle for ornery, insincere fraidy cats who put out.

9622: Ornery, insincere fraidy cats who put out

wow, c_s -- you could go from being gawked at by garbage guys to being gawked at by skeezy guys covered in zeppole oil. Movin' on up...

also:
"a faint dong-shaped cloud"

*snicker*

Funny things I have said to "Famous Bloggers" that the "Famous Bloggers" did not find funny at all.

Funny things I have said to "Famous Bloggers" that the "Famous Bloggers" did not find funny at all.

Take THAT, A-list!

I marvel at the energy it took to do that, Vidiot.

That's one dude celibacy ain't panning out for s'good.

errr...for the record, and in light of Dong's comment above, that's someone else's parody. Just sayin'.

I tried being cute & sexy on the bus this afternoon but the bus driver insisted on seeing my pass.

Apparently cute and sexy does not involve being damp from rain and out of breath from running for the bus, then tripping on the mid-stair as you get on, nearly causing several passengers to go down like dominoes. During rush hour.

Sadly, that's me at my best. This is going to take some work.

Dunno, it's kinda working for me...

Also, tonight at my favorite dive the bartender told me I reminded him of the guy who was raised by wolves in the latest Quizno's commercial (which you can see at their site. It's about a three meg .mov file.) I hadn't seen the commercial yet.

This wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't had this conversation when my friend showed up 15 minutes later:

me: "Apparently, I remind Jim [the bartender] of someone who suckles wolves..."
friend: "Oh, like in that Quizno's commercial? Yeah, I thought that too."

/viral marketing

me: "Apparently, I remind Jim [the bartender] of someone who suckles wolves..."
The guy in the comercial also looks like Mr Bean.

also...scratch also, you may look like the guy in the comercial yet you may not look like Roand Atkinson. The guy in the comercial does...

Damn. I do miss you guys. Raise one for Johnny!

It's official! A Witchstone sighting!

*tag her ear, boys, and release her back into the wild*

Ear? We were supposed to tag her EAR? Oh, shoot.

Witchy! Where are you? Come back!

It's like a visitation from the blessed virgin, only different.

A propos of just about everything: Monkeys demand equal pay.

...summarised.

Damn straight. Stick it to the man, O oppressed simians!

A note about posting images:

We encourage users to post images, especially those hilarous pics of monkeys wearing dresses or programming for Linux. But posting images that reside on someone else's server is considered by many to be bandwidth theft. Our thoughts on the matter, along with some solutions to the problem, can be found here. Thanks.

In an effort to help eliminate spam (and to preserve the sanity of the 9622 Volunteer Simian Spam-Cop Brigade) all threads older than 30 days will now be closed to comments.

Name:


Email Address:


URL:


Comments:

Remember me?