On another happy note, Cat Rescue Operative Emily posted in the comments to this post that Adele, the beautiful feline featured in the video, has left the halfway house for a new home: "Adele was adopted on Saturday! She was featured in an ad in the Oregonian and was adopted that day. Huzzah!"
I usually frown on the use of "Huzzah!" outside the context of a Renaissance Faire, but in this case it seems appropriate. Kudos to Emily and her colleagues at the Cat Adoption Team.
In the meantime, I'm hoping you'll allow me to crowd source the entertainment around here, by leveraging the legendary Wit O' the WO'C readership with a caption contest. I'll get things rolling...
"You were fantastic..."
Flash-mob that sucker!
Darling, when I said I wish you were stiffer, I didn't mean, actually, this stiff.
ReplyDeleteYou always make me feel absolutely chubby, Ann!
ReplyDeleteI could listen to your stories forever!
ReplyDelete~
Oh, Lost Skeleton of Cadavra! I don't know where you end and I begin!
ReplyDeleteDamn woman! You done wore me out1
ReplyDeleteEsmerelda Mantis gazed lovingly at the carcass of the drone who just inseminated her.
ReplyDeleteBTW, Scott? Why does that clean and well-groomed gentleman have a roll of toilet paper next to his left elbow?
ReplyDeleteEver seen a boner like this?
ReplyDeleteYour flesh desiccates me.
ReplyDeleteSweetie, I think it's really time for you to join that anorexia treatment program.
ReplyDelete"Bet you've never been boned like this before."
ReplyDeleteWhat he didn't understand at the time was when she said "Oooooh, I could just eat you up!", she really meant it.
ReplyDeleteMore Tuesdays with Morrie
ReplyDelete"Oooooooh sweet mystery of life at last I found youuuuuuu"
ReplyDeletegigglehurtz
This is for the top photo...
ReplyDelete"Laugh all you want, you chaps, but when a fellow is down to the end of his last roll of john-paper, he has to make some money somehow."
I swear on the grave of Mr. Whipple I had not read Carl's comment before submitting the above.
ReplyDeleteCould it be an adding machine roll?
You hungry?
ReplyDeleteIt's a steno pad, all you non-clerical non-drones.
ReplyDeleteMost. Original. Source. Of. Non-Motorized Dildos. Period.
ReplyDeleteOr maybe not.
BTW, Scott, didn't I *send* you this picture?
IIIIIIIIIIIII ain't got no bohhhhhh-day...
ReplyDeleteDidn't we tell you there would be consequences if the homosexuals were allowed to "marry" each other?
ReplyDeleteWoman: Do you think I'm fat?
ReplyDeleteSkeleton: I LIKE a woman with a bit of meat on her bones!
Reminds me of the Thorne Smith book "Skin & Bones", (Written in the 20's) about the adventures of a man who inhaled x-ray-film fumes, and following that, turned into a skeleton from time-to-time. Very funny book- especially a scene in a Hotel dining room where he spots his wife having dinner with a gigolo. "That's MY WIFE!" he exclaims "–and she's wearing black underwear with LACE!"
ReplyDeleteLike the time I took the ferry to Shelbyville. I needed a new heel for my shoe so I decided to go to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time. Now to take the ferry cost a nickel, and in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on them. Give me five bees for a quarter you'd say. Now where were we, oh ya. The important thing was that I had an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time. They didn't have white onions because if the war. The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones.
ReplyDeleteSlightly off topic: whenever a skeleton appears in a movie, that means xylophone in the score, which I never get tired of.
ReplyDeleteSorry, I'm a sucker for mallets. Tubular Bells, anyone?
You still have that little pull-string xylophone set with the little wooden wheels, don't you, Chris? Always wanted one of those...
ReplyDeleteAnd it only counts, the xylophone run, that is, if the skeletons are dancing and/or frolicking in an amusing way.
Speaking of, um, er... "interesting" pictures, though far less lovely...
http://www.stopinternets.com/royal-calendar.pdf
P.S.: Re: dancing skeletons... remind me to tell you about my first acid trip someday... it was lovely...
ReplyDeleteModels:Then and now.
ReplyDeleteOh, good one, Anonymous.
ReplyDelete"but, you didn't tell me it was your first time".
Suezboo
Annti writes: remind me to tell you about my first acid trip someday
ReplyDeleteOkay. Remember to tell me about your first acid trip someday.
Re xylophone: I actually was once the proud owner of one of these-- an orchestral glockenspiel. All silver bars and black velvet in a black leather case; it was simply gorgeous just to look at.
I got it at famous local music shop Stein on Vine for a couple hundred back in the day, and of all the instruments (mostly keyboards, synths, etc) I sold off when I crashed and burned on the whole being a musician thing, this is perhaps the one I miss most. Well, that and the Hammond B-3. And the Gibson SG. And the Grand Piano. And the Crumar Orchestrator, and the Prophet V, and the-- oh the hell with it, I miss them all.
And re Tubular Bells: yep, it's this 1972 recording that drove me to buy my very own set of bells.
Fun Facts to Know and Tell:
Mike Oldfield's "Tubular Bells" was Virgin Records' first release and singlehandedly made Richard Branson the obnoxious billionaire we all know and love or hate today.
Mike Oldfield honored in full his contract with Branson, but would never make for him the "Tubular Bells II" record that Branson, seeing dollar signs, wanted so badly. In his last album for Virgin Records, "Amarok", Mike included an easter egg of sorts: a morse code guitar passage which spelled out the text "FUCK OFF RB".
To rub it in, his first record for his new record company, Warner, was "Tubular Bells II".
And lastly, the first time I heard Tubular Bells was when it was played by the college-owned and operated radio station at Beloit College in Wisconsin, where the DJ, after playing the entirety of Side One, said "that's a new one we just got in, from Mike Bloomfield: Tubular Bells."
Wow, Bloomfield's really turned a corner here, I remember thinking at the time.
Annti, I forgot to mention: The Royals calendar is awesome. Highly reccommended, and I'll republish the link, for those too lazy to cut and paste, here.
ReplyDeleteExtra points to Suezboo... good one.
ReplyDeleteI dunno why my link didn't work, but then, as we have learned out in the terrain, HTML hates my guts. Glad that you liked the calender. B3ta.com has some right-funny shite thar.
Your inventory of musical instruments makes me ill with envy, Vosburg.
Dunno a damned thing about the people you describe with the tubular bells and all (except, of course, for that obsequious, obnoxious knob Branson --- ironic -- or just really fucking FUNNY! --- that Firefox doesn't RECOGNIZE the word/name "Branson"!), but it definitely sounds interesting. Not big on instrumentals except for teh F.U.'s copy of "Tijuana Brass" that I liberated around 1976 or so...
And re: that 1st acid trip --- kinda long for comments, honestly. Maybe it's not as entertaining in print as it was in person, but it was fascinating to me, especially the last part on the ride home, 'cause I wasn't even ever a DeadHead! Yeah, sure, I had a copy of "American Beauty" like everybody else, but not much more, and like all of my other good vinyl, it is long, long fucking gone and at 1/10th retail value. Record shop owners can be the most evil bastards on earth, which is why I always preferred record conventions, but then THOSE dropped off the face of the fucking planet somehow... *sigh* Don't get me started on my Robert Johnson boxed set... but I feel yer pain, son, I feel yer pain. Not the pain of losing actual beautiful musical instruments, as "my" French horn was borrowed from the school, and I hadda learn how to do all of the maintenance on it MYSELF, since the parish didn't give a fuck about fixing their own equipment... but believe me, my LP & CD collections were something to be envied in their day, my friend. Something to be envied indeed... Got my first CD player out of the garbage can of my first radio station's production room, took it home, beat the fuck out of it, and made it work! For a while, anyway...
Mr. and Mrs. Marshall relax at home, in an exclusive pictorial for People Magazine.
ReplyDeleteAnnti writes: "my" French horn was borrowed from the school
ReplyDeleteOh, cool: I played French Horn in college for a while, (the horn borrowed, like yours, from the school). Although the horn was in fact a Conn, I was thankfully spared a visit from bizarre androgyne Mr B Natural, but nevertheless, felt like a happy king, I did! (MST3K ref).
You can, if you like, check out Mike Oldfield's impressively large bells and watch him strangle the hell out of a guitar in the finale from the Tubular Bells III live premiere, here. Whew.
I played French horn so badly, she moved to England.
ReplyDeleteAnd buttinski, what is this "steno pad" of which you speak? Is it used in stenology? Or cardiac stents?
Enquiring minds want to know!
Callista Gingrich, Newt's third try at marriage, is said to be a French Horn player, and you may recall often demonstrated her impressive embouchure to Newt in the front seat of his car when he was still married to Marianne.
ReplyDeleteBa dump bum.
'cause I wasn't even ever a DeadHead!
ReplyDeleteHeh heh. Me neither!
;)
Thunder, get outta my head! How did YOU know what was dancing across the inside of my eyelids every time we hit a pot-hole?
ReplyDeleteAnd Vosburg, mentioning that bony shrew, let alone her embouchure {{{{{{shudder!!!!!!}}}}}}}, has killed my every last smidgen of love for music. And those rare fond memories of being allowed to play a musical instrument.
Thanks.
May you be haunted by tortuously-clusterfucked images of utterly-shredded BAD PLASTIC-SURGERY-ATTEMPTS AT "REVIRGINIZATION" OF CALISTA'S "EMBOUCHURE" for at least 16 weeks, every single time that you close your eyes.
And Carl?
For that joke?
FORTY WEEKS.
She wasn't the least bit thin-skinned. In fact, she loved a good ribbing.
ReplyDeleteBah-dum-bump!
ReplyDeleteEsmeralda swore that this was the last fucking one-night-stand she was ever going to look for from Craig's List...
ReplyDelete(pondering the gaping jaw on the skeleton)
ReplyDelete"Yes, honey. I'm just. That. Good."
Heh heh. My captcha for this comment is "suckt"
Skeletor, you rock. Forget He-Man! I'm yours.
ReplyDeleteI think of these as before-and-after photos.
ReplyDeleteCaption for Photo One: "Wow, who's the new hottie? I'd give anything to have her go down on me..."
Photo Two: "That's what you said you wanted, isn't it?"
Geoff Peterson learned nothing from the David Letterman scandal.
ReplyDeleteWe last met in Marienbad.
ReplyDeleteExtra points to Doc for the Geoff ref.
ReplyDelete~
~
~
BTW, my super-secret magic-decoder-ring word is "PEDLESS". I shit y'all not. Oh, wouldn't it be a wunnerful world if it WAS pedless? No more pedophiles... gee, Pope Panzerfaust/Chupacabra would have to give up his $5,000-shoe habit! Ironic, that greed-whore Paris-Hilton-of-teh-Unholy-Roman-Empire dresses to the HILT, whilst the local nuns here can't pay their electric bills or even pay their regular staff. Bitches still have a pretty sweet life, getting paid for never getting laid, having people serve THEM 'cause they wear the funny outfits and claim to be married to Secret Invisible Sky-Friend, never having to file taxes, let alone PAY taxes, and people just GIVE you shit...
Okay, not TOO different from MY life, especially the sexlessness, and I've been way too close to losing the electricity & phone/ISP way too many times for it to not be spooky as fuck, but at least I'm not ripping people off by saying that I have "magic powers." I should have magic powers, but I sure as hell don't CLAIM THEM.