Sunday, September 30, 2018
Saturday, September 15, 2018
I suppose this happens to everyone from time to time, but living in Hollywood, it seems to happen to me all the time. You know the feeling: you just need ten gallons of Regular, a caffeine-free Diet Dr Pepper, and a box of Twizzlers, but while you're fumbling for your debit card a rave breaks out in front of the mini-mart, and the next thing you know, you're waking up disoriented in the Cool Tent.
MOONDOGGIE: What? It's Caturday?! I better get up and start bringin' the kawaii, or I'll get totally stiffed by Japanese YouTubers! Again!
SHADOW: No, honey, stay in bed...
MOONDOGGIE: We're on top of the couch.
SHADOW: Stay...on couch.
MOONDOGGIE: But Caturday--!!
SHADOW: Don't be fooled by the hype, Orange Guy. It's just another made-up Hallmark holiday like Boss's Day, or World Nutella Day, or German Apples Day--
MOONDOGGIE: Don't you be dissing Tag des Deutschen Apfels!
MOONDOGGIE: If the Germans hear about your potty mouth, they might refuse to honor my gift card to Wienerwald!
Thursday, September 13, 2018
Hello, old friends.
I've been meaning to come in and dust this place off for awhile now, but I see we're well past that point and nothing short of a good sandblasting will do, followed by a vigorous scrub-down with whatever combination of bleach and acid they use to cleanse murder scenes. It's not 100% effective, but it'll make that cheap Tallahassee motel room presentable enough that the lingering smell might be mistaken for mildew in the air conditioner and the Rorschach-like blood spatters might just be part of the wallpaper pattern. Probably. Anyway, the place rents by the hour so it's not like any phantom odors will have time to permeate your sportswear, especially if you're a Republican state legislator just looking to get your winky dinked on your lunch hour.
There're a lot of things I feel I ought to be writing about lately, but rather than inspiring, the news has been suffocating me, much like that Glad™brand amniotic sac that traps Sean Connery in Zardoz, and unlike him I lack the talent to act my way out of it (also I'm having second thoughts about people seeing me in thigh-high boots and a crimson diaper).
However, I have news of my own to share. Some of it's bad, but I'm going to put all that unhappy stuff aside and for now, accentuate the positive. Today (okay, yesterday, but I started this post on September 12th in good faith, fully intending to finish it before midnight, but they're painting the doors and hallways in our apartment building and I had to flee the neighborhood because the smell was giving me a horrible headache) is the birthday of Sheri Zollinger, co-author of Better Living Through Bad Movies, "Our Hostess" as Doghouse Riley always used to call her, founder of World O' Crap, and the person who has probably made me laugh more and harder than anyone else on Earth.
Sadly for the blogosphere, Sheri (whose health has been fragile for many years now) shifted her energies from gentle lampoonery of right wing idiots to rescuing dogs and cats and helping disadvantaged people in her community. But then, the blogosphere isn't doing all that well itself lately, so who gives a damn what it thinks? The days when blogs could have banded together, achieved self-awareness, and seized control of civilization like Colossus: The Forbin Project are long gone, and if any artificial construct is going to subdue humanity, it's probably some yet-to-be-written, yet soon-to-be-viral tweet about farts.
Imagine a tweet farting in a face. Forever.
Well, that's Trump's America, but as promised, we're not here to piss and moan about the bad stuff. We're here to celebrate the birth of America's wittiest writer (yes, I said it, and I'll fight anyone who sez different). As someone who ought to know once said (I think it was Thers, pinch-hitting for Atrios on Eschaton), "S.z. basically invented left snark", and if that's not true, then everything is an alternative fact. Waking up each day and reading her posts was pretty much the reason I bothered to get up at all during the Bush Administration, and writing a book with her was the single most joyous experience of my professional career (and I've written several movies about fish!).
So in honor of her many hilarious posts about Bill O'Reilly, Ann Coulter, Pastor J. Grant Swank, Family Circus, Doug Giles, and Meghan Cox Gurdon (America's Worst Mother [© Tbogg] before Sarah Palin arrived on the scene), please join me -- if you're still out there -- in wishing s.z. a very happy birthday.
But wait! What would a Wo'C birthday party be without prunes?
What does this crisp, fresh salad cause a man to change his mind about? Let's read on...
Stew 4 prunes for each person. Pit the prunes and stuff with cottage cheese.So I'm guessing that any "meat and potatoes" men who were considering self-harm will look at this recipe and decide to dispense with half-measures and just skip straight to the suicide.
Place two donuts on a lettuce leaf, fill the donut centers with cottage cheese and then top each donut with a stuffed prune.And thus the Krispy Kreme empire fell, when the Germanic leader Odoacer showed up at the gates of Rome in drag and bearing this refreshing summer dish while pretending to be a lady from the Welcome Wagon.
Place two whole pitted prunes beside the donuts.Because as long as you're going to commit a felony, you might as well compound it. Anyway, at least we can rest assured that this thing can't get any worse.
Serve with mayonnaise.I stand corrected.
Okay, now please join me in wishing--
Wait. Sorry. First we need to comb the deserts of Utah for a...
Sexy Birthday Lizard!
Yes, it's the Long-nosed Leopard Lizard. I know they're more common at birthday parties than a balloon-twistin' clown, but after all, there's a difference between a cliche and a tradition.
Okay...Now please join me in wishing Sheri the loveliest of natal anniversaries. And may all the love and self-sacrifice she has offered to homeless animals and infirm neighbors over the years redound to her a thousandfold.
Happy birthday, Sheri.