See Androids Fighting

Here's to blogging in a new year. And, you know, life and stuff.

Ribs Are Ceiling Beams

We are two mariners
Our ships' sole survivors
In this belly of a whale

Its ribs are ceiling beams
Its guts are carpeting
I guess we have some time to kill

You may not remember me
I was a child of three
And you, a lad of eighteen

But I remember you
And I will relate to you
How our histories interweave

At the time you were
A rake and a roustabout
Spending all your money on the whores and hounds

You had a charming air
All cheap and debonair
My widowed mother found so sweet

And so she took you in
Her sheets still warm with him
Now filled with filth and foul disease

As time wore on you proved
A debt-ridden drunken mess
Leaving my mother a poor consumptive wretch

And then you disappeared
Your gambling arrears
The only thing you left behind

And then the magistrate
Reclaimed our small estate
And my poor mother lost her mind

Then one day, in spring
My dear sweet mother died
But before she did, I took her hand as she, dying, cried:

"Find him, bind him
Tie him to a pole and break
His fingers to splinters
Drag him to a hole until he
Wakes up naked
Clawing at the ceiling
Of his grave"

It took me fifteen years
To swallow all my tears
Among the urchins in the street

Until a priory
Took pity and hired me
To keep their vestry nice and neat

But never once in the employ
Of these holy men
Did I ever, once, turn my mind from the thought of revenge

One night I overheard
The prior exchanging words
With a penitent whaler from the sea

The captain of his ship
Who matched you toe to tip
Was known for a wanton cruelty

The following day
I shipped to sea
With a privateer

And in the whistle
Of the wind
I could almost hear:

"Find him, bind him
Tie him to a pole and break
His fingers to splinters
Drag him to a hole until he
Wakes up naked
Clawing at the ceiling
Of his grave

There is one thing I must say to you
As you sail across the sea
Always, your mother will watch over you
As you avenge this wicked deed"

And then that fateful night
We had you in our sight
After twenty months at sea

Your starboard flank abeam
I was getting my muskets clean
When came this rumbling from beneath

The ocean shook
The sky went black
And the captain quailed

And before us grew
The angry jaws
Of a giant whale

Don't know how I survived
The crew all was chewed alive
I must have slipped between his teeth

But, oh! What providence!
What divine intelligence!
That you should survive as well as me

It gives my heart great joy
To see your eyes fill with fear
So lean in close
And I will whisper
The last words you'll hear

Ike, Mike and Mustard

By the time I finish tabulating exactly what happened on this blog in 2006, Saddam Hussein will probably be dead. A strange thought, especially since he’s a boogeyman that’s been spooking impressionable Americans since I was a kid. Dead dictator or no dead dictator, people read this blog during the past year and will likely continue to do so in 2007. For the curious, here’s what you all thought.


As it stands now, the average number of unique viewers per week is 3,056.

As you can see from the above graph, which I grabbed from my account profile at FreeStats.com, the Back of the Cereal Box peaked back in August, when 6,056 individual people stopped in — some for only a few seconds, but a lot for considerably longer.


This pretty pie tells me that more than half of the people who end up at this blog do so by accident and quickly leave. (No doubt they were researching Moesko Island, Poor Pitiful Pearl, Shirley the Loon or Father Bingo.) However, the next largest chunk is comprised of people who check in every day. To you regulars, thanks.

And now, lists. For example, the top ten referrers for 2006:

1. GrowABrain
2. Dina-Dina Canklesaurus
3. Blog of the Land Monster
4. My Facebook profile
   
5. Tristan Bannon, Master of the Perverted Arts
6. Traveling Without Moving
7. Look on My Works, Ye Mighty
8. Die Wunderkammer
9. The talk page for the Wikipedia entry on Thomas Kinkade
10. Smells Like Bullshit

The search terms that most frequently lead to my blog:

1. drew mackie
2. kidicarus222
3. moesko island lighthouse
4. queef queaf
5. back of the cereal box
   
6. sun milk
7. adolpha zantziger lyrics
8. spraychel
9. Meli KalikiMaka song for myspace
10. purple grapes people eater plum nurple

The most-read posts of 2006:

1. "To Quote Wally Exactly"
2. "Moesko Island Lighthouse"
3. "Your House Is Ass"
4. "Cat With Paws"
5. "The Painter of Blight"
6. "The 'Video' in Video Games"
7. "The Eternal Harvest"
8. "Puppy Goo-Goo, Fetch Me a Dream!"
9. "Fake Words TV Has Taught Me"
10. "Legend of the Jolly Invalid"
11. "Alcohol-Devil-Rose-Saint-Fight"
12. "Have You Ever Seen a Quimp?"
13. "Jake Who?"
14. "Death Letter"
15. "Portrait of the Artist as a Young Woman With Lots of Hats"
    

And finally, the latest status of my Technorati profile: 130,458, out of approximately 55 million. The latest rise comes in part to links from Break on Through, Richard's Realm and CarnyTown.

You're a Crook, Captain Hook

Because Josh did it last year and I’m no more original now than I was when I stole the idea the first time. Here is the whole of 2006, as represented by the first sentence of the first blog post of each month.

January: “Eating Poison or Peeling Off Your Own Eyelids”

Not daring to stray from the usual co-worker chatter topics of (a) rude customers, (b) mutually hated managers and (c) the awful in-store music, a fellow book peddler asked me today if I’d rather be first season “American Idol” winner Kelly Clarkson or fourth season “American Idol” winner Carrie Underwood.

February: “Bathed, Shaved, and With a Roof Over My Head”

As the title implies, I am no longer couch surfing.

March: “The Charging Sky”

I know I had the day off and I know I'm heading on this major trip and I know I should have loads to talk about.

April: “Porcelettas”

done in sydney, for the most part.

May: “Now You Feel Weird, Too”

So one of my recent Flickr uploads — and one that has mysteriously drawn a lot of traffic — is this one, which depicts one of my feet, one of Kristen’s and one of Dina’s.

June: “My Name Is Zoom and I Live on the Moon”

It’s a holdover state of mind from my childhood, but today it retains a small bit of the truth that it did on June 5, 1987.

July: “Drew’s Accidental Menagerie”

So a short while back, this white girl Kat — Kat! — drops an image comment on one of my MySpace photos.

August: “Lullaby”

I just wrote this. You should sing it to your kids.

September: “Off the Grid”

Towns and former towns I was in, was near or drove through this weekend: Mi-Wuk, Sugarpine, Confidence, Standard, Soulsbyville, Twain Harte, Ralph, Tuttletown, Quartz, Chinese Camp, Angels Camp, Copperopolis.

October: “I Prefer Pi”

Because I'm too busy to actually blog but wouldn't want to leave the faithful stranded.

November: “I Was a Feather With an Alligator Mouth”

I’ll admit that “SNL” didn’t start so well this year.

December: “Time Is Fleeting”

also, our friends are collectively retarded

Again, it's a fairly representative sample, don't you think? More year-end festivities yet to come.

Oh, How Come-ly

If you look immediately below this line of text, you'll notice that I've posted a picture.


This is the picture, above this line of text.

It makes my head hurt in the same way that it might if researchers discovered that Miep Gies had recorded an original version of "You're So Vain" back in the late 1930s, before the course of history aborted her pop career. Or maybe like when you read about how those Egyptian hieroglyphics that show what looks like a cannister with a snake inside but might actually be a crude representation of a light bulb and filament.

Well, something like that.

The CD that Ms. Hilton is holding appears to be Neutral Milk Hotel's In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, a magnificent album that was one of the first complete ones I ever downloaded through Napster. (For the record, I believe Billy or Agnes recommended it.) It's highly regarded among music snob circles, so much so that those who claim an affinity for indie rock but have not heard it can become the subject of ridicule and sexual brutalization. (I've heard.) I like it, anyway. (The album, not sexual brutalization.) The album art may be familiar to those of you who have recently checked out my MySpace page, which I have decked out with the cover art of albums I enjoy.

Now, the above photo depicts In the Aeroplane Over the Sea in the hand of the last person who should ever hold it. Again, to make an analogy, seeing this photo would be kind of like walking into a room and finding a monkey holding a loaded revolver. Also, the monkey is drunk and it also doesn't like you because of a previously bad interaction. Jarring, no?

I can't imagine how she came across this. Possibly, it was the most reflective surface she could find and the above photo captured her in the moment before she looked into the jewel case to see how waxy her face looks. Or maybe somebody with taste was walking by, saw Paris Hilton, and instinctively threw the first thing they could grab and that thing just happened to be the album and they miss the album now and when they threw it it just happened to flip perfectly into Paris Hilton's hand because that's totally the kind of dumb luck that slag would have.

Or, maybe, it's just that someone photoshopped the Neutral Milk Hotel album cover onto whatever she was holding. And let's be honest, it was probably her own album. Nonetheless, it's a rude shock. Paris Hilton or Mr. Savvy Photoshop person, you should not have made me feel two things at once.

Excuses, Excuses

If I had the money to burn on such an endeavor, I’d find an island out somewhere — remote, but pretty — and build a resort there. I design it to be completely cut-off from the rest of the world. No phones for guests. No internet access. Nothing. The perfect place to leave stress behind. And I’d call it "Communicado." That way, when people asked, you could respond with the bit of punny wonderment that is “Sorry, but I’m going to be in Communicado.”

Of course, such a place would give rise to other resorts, like Adequate, Nane, Sane, Cognito, Fectious, Telligible, Cestuous and Flammable. But that much of it can be left up to everybody else.

Car Seat Is Freezing

Because December 26 is still time enough for discussions about Christmas — and all the more so if said discussions are tainted with the bitterness that only the post-holiday hangover can bring. Case in point: the special Santa Claus punchbowl my mom found at an antique store:

Let’s face it — what says holiday happiness better than ladelling cheer out of Santa’s hollowed-out skull? Last Christmas, in fact, my mom made a special candy cane punch. It’s egg nog, sherbet and crunched-up candy canes, the red dye of which gives the concoction a wonderful pink color. Yes, minty and sweet thought it may have been, the foamy punch had every appearance of scrambled brains. As the sherbet melted, pink goo would dribble down the sides of the bowl, making the effect work all the better. We all felt like we had done something very, very wrong to Santa. Really, look at his eyes — heavy-lidded and altogether blank, they give the appearance of someone who has undergone unnecessary brain surgery.

Now, happily, we can put him and the rest of his crew away for another forty-eight weeks.

One-Tenth of a Plausibility Unit

Christmas cheer for your face.

Peanut Bird

And then, in total celebration of the holidays, Wikipedia posted a Pokémon as the featured article of the day.

The Chirstmas Mistake

In light of the fact that both "Dreamgirls" and "Black Christmas" are premiering on December 25, I can't help but laugh at the prospect of some uninformed, casually racist individual going to the theater on Christmas Day and mistakenly ask for a ticket to "Black Christmas," thinking it must be the movie starring Beyonce and Jennifer Hudson. And then, of course, they'd leave being very confused as to why the film starred a bunch of white girls who just died instead of black ones who sang and danced.

Jo-Jessica

I found this while sorting through old stuff. It's already been CTRL+Ved onto this blog once, shortly after it went up, but I have no qualms about doing it again. At least in part. The good part. Just read this fraction of my contribution to an Artsweek top ten-themed issue.

Ten Meaningless Syllables Sung in Pop Music

1. “Hey hey hey”
2. “La la la”
3. “Ooh ooh ooh”
4. “Oh oh oh”
5. “Yeah yeah”
6. “Oh yeah”
7. “Mmm mmm mmm mmm”
8. “Dee dee dah”
9. “Uh-huh uh-huh.”
10. “Mocha chocolata ya ya.”

Ten Songs That Tell You to Do a Certain Dance That You Probably Don't Know How to Do

1. “The Electric Slide”
2. “The Wah-Watusi”
3. “Boot Scootin' Boogie”
4. “The Twist”
5. “The Time Warp”
6. “The Hand Jive”
7. “The Hustle”
8. “The Bunny Hop”
9. “The Hokey Pokey”
10. “The Locomotion”

Ten Peculiar Questions Asked in '80s Songs

1. “How can we sleep while our beds are burning?” — Midnight Oil, “Beds Are Burning”
2. “Could it be the smog is playing tricks on my eyes, or is a roller skater in some kind of headphone disguise?” — Missing Persons, “Walking in L.A.”
3. “Do I stand in your way or am I the best thing you've ever had?” — Pat Benatar, “Love Is a Battlefield”
4. “I wonder who's watching me now, the IRS?” — Rockwell, “Somebody's Watching Me”
5. “How does it feel when your heart grows cold?” — New Order, “Blue Monday”
6. “Who's that gigolo on the street with his hands in his pockets and his crocodile feet?” — Neneh Cherry, “Buffalo Stance”
7. “Will you stand above me, look my way and never love me?” — Simple Minds, “Don't You (Forget About Me)”
8. “When you say it's gonna happen now, what exactly do you mean?” — The Smiths, “How Soon Is Now?”
9. “Why can't I get just one fuck?” — Violent Femmes, “Add It Up”
10. “Should I cool it or should I blow?” — the Clash, “Should I Stay or Should I Go?”

This Unwelcome Information Has Completely Ruined the Mozart

Easily, my biggest disappointment for this week would have to be having a small news item cut that, if run, would have meant the all-too-underused word "pseudo-genital" being published in the paper.

In lieu of me boiling the matter down, read about parasitic flatworm pseudo-genitals yourself.

As Reliable as Roast Mutton

One more piece of photographic evidence from the Holly Jolly Christmas Party. I think Megan (Megan!) captured it well.


It's the rubber Christmas chicken.

Uosdwis R. Dewoh

The original bloggation stated it best: "What do you think? Think this smoking area is a little heavy-handed?"


[ source: Pointless Drivel, but in an earlier incarnation ]

Vigoro for Boys

Former roommate at the Pasado House Meghan posted some pictures from college days on her Picasa account. Oh, the memories.

First off, the lost pictures of Moe during her horrific "The Ring"-esque blackout.

Also, missing pictures from the Jill-in-the-shower incident.

And now some pictures from a strange necktie photo shoot we did in the Pasado House living room. For the life of me, I have no idea why we did this.

And, finally, me holding a bunny rabbit at Jono's birthday party.

Encyclopedia Drew and the Mystery of the Barfing Bathtub

So amid all the frantic party preparation last week, something horrible and unexplained happened in the bathtub. I came home from work and Spencer told me that he had just discovered that the tub was full of what appeared to be penne pasta and sand. Also, the mixture smelled of bile. Spencer said he hadn’t puked, and Aly had just showered without any problem minutes before. Betsy hadn’t gotten home yet. And worst of all was the fact that it was noodles and sand, together, which raises the question of who might have eaten such a meal. (Though, admittedly, the notion that it would have been immediately thrown up would make sense.) Also, the little hair catcher on the drain had not been moved, which led us to believe that the foulness must have come from someone’s mouth instead of having bubbled up from the drain, as it would have moved the hair catcher.

There, at the bottom of the tub, the penne-con-pebbles sat, until we used the shower to make it go away. I bleached the fuck out of the tub and took a shower without incident. Since no one owned up to the puking, the matter subsided into a suspicious silence, with everyone secretly imagining that one of us might have eaten something terrible and then neglected to void themselves of it into the toilet, like a good roommate should.

This morning, I woke up to horrified shouts of Aly again trying to use the shower, as she recovered from the terrible hangover of her previous night. While she was trying to decide whether or not she had to throw up, the tub decided for her. The alphabet soup that I had not finished last night had apparently started flowing into the tub — not from the drain but from that weird thing that drains bathwater when it gets to high, elevator-from-The Shining-style. (We all hoped the tub would send us a message via alphabet noodles, possible something like “HELP” or “SICK” or "GET OUT," but it did not.) The problem gets entirely worse when we use the kitchen sink, which I’m actually in favor of, since I feel like I’ve been doing dishes too often, given how little time I’ve spent at the apartment awake.

Finally, the mystery of the tub puke is solved. However, this means someone tried to shove entire penne noodles into the kitchen sink, which has no disposal. And given that the whole apartment reeks of the strangest, most rotten puke ever, I don’t think I’m up to solving this one.

Dr. Spaceman

I bought spinach for dinner tonight. Funny thing: It turns out that spinach is now unreasonably cheap, I’d imagine because nobody has yet forgotten that the previous batch was full of poo germs and gave a bunch of people E. coli infections.

So here’s my thinking: I really want a Wii for Christmas, but I’m broke. So I think we should all start telling people that the Nintendo Wii gave us E. coli infections. I think it would work especially because We’d have to do this in large enough numbers that it could bring the price of the Wii down to an affordable $27.86, that amount being what I currently have in my checking account. I think it would work especially well for this product, as enough people are already complaining about how the Wii has injured them in some way.

Now you go do your part — all of you — and together, we can all reap the benefits.

Charlie Don't Surf

Great news for all of you who did like I said and bought the first two seasons of "Veronica Mars" on DVD: Episodes aired so far in the third season are now available on iTunes. This means that once you find out who instigated the bush crash, you can leap right into the mystery of the Hearst rapist.

Now you've got no excuse.

Arch Stanton and Paula Schultz

Three obscure words for your face:

• mammothrept — meaning "a spoiled child," its etymological roots go back to the Greek for "a child raised by one's grandmother"
• logodaedaly — meaning "clever in the use of words," it's the Greek word part for "word" (as in "dialogue" and such) plus a permutation of the Greek mythological character Daedalus, who designed the Labyrinth and other ingenious things
• jumentous — meaning "resembling horse urine," and simultaneously useless and wonderful because of that

[ source: Erin McKean's Weird and Wonderful Words ]

Thirty-Something Mulberry Field

A long-forgotten etymological tidbit from Paul.

If you asked most people to break down the world "helicopter" into its word parts, most people would guess "heli" and "copter." This makes since, initially, since we now use "heli-" as a word part in things like "helipad" and "copter" now means something on its own. However, the word is actually divided in a way I find surprising. The first part is the Greek helik, which has associations with spinning and gives us our word "helix." The second part is pter, which means "wing" and is probably most familiar to English speakers in words like "pterodactyl."

And I think this is fucking rad. Hey, remember Paul?

Less Than a Snow Fairy, More Than a Sugar Plum

Just to prove that we didn't completely debauch the spirit of the holiday, here are some entirely more wholesome pictures of us in the post-party aftermath, during which we mustered the energy to go ice skating at Earl Warren.

Photo credits go to Laura.

The End of the World or Something

Ixnayed headlines for the negative review of "Apocalypto" I just threw online:

• "Aping Crap-o"
• "Aptly clipped-o"
• "Eek! Poor craft-o"
• "A Mayan Bimbo"
• "An Epoch Missed-o"
• "A Gibson Biffed-o"
• "Apoca-Lifted"
• "Apocalypt-Oh My God This Movie Sucks"
• And my personal favorite, "A Pot of Stinko"

Also, shouldn't the title have technically been "Apocalypso," even despite the Caribbean rhythms that might bring to mind?

Myth Friends

Ahem.

From Defamer.

I'll Not Be a Gentleman

Hanging threads, fused together more than a decade after they started hanging: for the most part, the only long-lasting cultural impact of 90s rock band The Toadies is the song "Possum Kingdom." It's a good one, if a little darker than most stuff that got radio play back in the day. It's the song that goes like this:

Make up your mind
Decide to walk with me
Around the lake tonight
Around the lake tonight
By my side
By my side
I'm not gonna lie
I'll not be a gentleman
Behind the boathouse
I'll show you my dark secret

Anyway, most people who didn't buy the CD are usually surprised by the song's actual name, as the words "possum" or "kingdom" are never mentioned in the lyrics and together they're fairly nonsensical. In fact, I only realized this when I decided to download it through Napster during my freshan year of college. After trying possible titles like "Do You Want to Die?" and "Help Me, Jesus" — those both being phrases that are spoken a lot in the song — I eventually just tried this one. Go figure.

Now Spencer recently came across a body of water in Texas called "Possum Kingdom Lake" — in Palo Pinto County, no less. Now it finally all makes sense. The song, which details how the narrator wants to drown his ladyfriend, is apparently referencing the lake he's planning to use for the murder.

Like I said, dark.

Now if anybody can tell me why the lake was named "Possum Kingdom," I can die a happy man.

Floor Pie

I think I've been confusing Brian Cox and Tom Wilkinson.

Don't Do What Donny Don't Does

In short, I started a new job. I'm full time at The Independent now. I'm psyched, but verbally exhausted. Also, my spare hours have been taken up in preparing for the sequel to the Holly Jolly Holiday Party — also known as Enid Wipple's Cockatail Hour, also known as the best thing ever.

To be resumed in the non-too-distant future.

Angel Puppy Riding a Llama, Blowing Kisses From a Pink Kiss-Kiss Bubble Gun

It finally happened.

This strange little attempt at bloggery finally got the upgrade to Blogger Beta. For the time being, this means little to you. I'll busy myself in ridding all previous posts of the linky mess that has served as a post tag substitute — the very same one that had previously swallowed up my bits of free time. It's not all for nothing, however. Crude as it was, the Drewmatron Blogger Non-Beta Janktastic Post Category System, as I've taken to calling it, will provide a means of neatly labelling old material. For now, it's going to be a line displaying applicable post labels at the end of each post, as you see at the bottom of this self-congratulatory little nothing. It may one day become something more functional, more graphically pleasing.

Be happy for me.

The Land of Zippotone and India Inks

Yet even more unusual ways people have been finding my blog.

• what is kransky?
  
• blogger why can't i upgrade my template?
• erna sack guinness book
  
• cereal names that aren't invented
  
• "Toadette" Birdo Sex
• 3 monkeys in cereal box (the number one hit!)
• meaning of "green mnms"
• puking elk
• ngs footprint record guinness
  
• "motown philly" +"full house" +"Stephanie tanner"
• Barton Fink Hotel Earl anagram
• Delicious Shampoo complete-lyrics
  
• myspace conway twitty glitter
• Litchfield County CT train and polar express
  
• And, for some reason, a hit from someone doing a Blogger search for uses of the phrase "to quote" specifically on this blog.

In the Velvet Darkness of the Blackest Night

In the inbox this morning:

Dear blog author:

We recently came across your site, kidicarus222.blogspot.com, while searching for fellow christian bloggers.

A small group of us have started a new site called Christian Bloggers. Our prayer and intent is to bring Christians closer together, and make a positive contribution to the Internet community. While many of us have different "theologies", we all share one true saviour.

Would you be interested in joining Christian Bloggers? Please take a few minutes to have a look at what we are trying to do, and if you are interested, there is a sign up page to get the ball rolling. We would greatly appreciate your support in this endeavour.

May God Bless you and your blogging efforts. We look forward to hearing from you.

Not that I make a habit of joining themed blog networks, but I am curious to know what made them think this blog was being written by a man of faith.

EDIT: Later this evening, Dina pointed out what should have been obvious to me: "That's so neat that jesus is stalking you. Clearly, he's on board with the anti-monkey stance of the previous post."

Both of Us Come From God, But I Don't Come From You

Eliot, author of a blog I like called Fast Hugs, put up a good post two weeks ago about the nature of women in comedy. This interests me a great deal, as I’ve never really understood the bias against funny women, especially in light of the fact that recently female comic actresses have been doing quite well for themselves — stealing the show, for example, on “SNL” for the last few seasons. Anyway, the posts ends up praising Jan Hooks, a righteously funny woman who I don’t think does much of anything nowadays. Off the top of my head, I know she was the voice of Apu’s wife on “The Simpsons” for a while, but I don’t think she even gets to do that now.

The post includes a clip of “The Dana Carvey Show” featuring Carvey and Hooks as Regis and Kathie Lee.

It kind of devolves towards the end, but the first two minutes are totally worth it. And, as the original posts notes, "the guy plaing Gelman is exactly who you think it is."

For you edification, Fast Hugs is a wholly wonderful blog, whose past video-imbued posts include footage of the author’s appearance as a young contestant on “Wheel of Fortunes” My Favorite Teacher Week, a sex ed video featuring the Bateman siblings, and an Estelle Getty work-out video. The last delights me to no end. Here's the best of it, in my opinion. See the original post for commentary and twice as much video.

As Sensual as a Pencil

In an effort to further clarify exactly what kind of nerd I am, I've added two subsections to my permalink list on the side bar. First, "Word Blogs," which includes Mother Tongue Annoyances, Language Log, and Language Hat.com. And on the audio-visual side of lameness, I have "Gaming Blogs," with Kotaku, Destructoid, 4 Color Rebellion, Blow in the Game Slot, Go Nintendo and Wired.com's Game|Life. Revel in it.

Alice Long (You're Still My Favorite Girlfriend)

In transit from one part of New Zealand to another and lacking any kind of iPod-enabling hook-up in our rented tan Nissan Pulsar, KrisDina and I bought a CD titled The Ultimate Bubblegum Collection at a gas station last winter. The shiny disc yielded the kind of upbeat tunes that the non-activists of the 60s filled their heads with. The music was catchy. Too catchy. Had we been lesser men, we might have gone mad and run that Pulsar off the road.

Cleaning off my desk last night, I had a chance to look at the jewel box again. I reviewed the track list on the back — a sample of text, I should add, that was printed in ever color you’d see on a jawbreaker — and noticed how very many of the titles used repeated words.

Here they are, so you too can know.

• Crazy Elephant - “Gimme Gimme Good Loving”
• Ohio Express - “Yummy Yummy Yummy”
• The 1910 Fruitgum Company - “One, Two, Three, Red Light, Red Light”
• Ohio Express - “Chewy Chewy”
• The Archies - “Sugar, Sugar”
• Blue Mink - “Wacky, Wacky, Wacky”
• Sweet - “Funny Funny”
• The 1910 Fruitgum Company - “Goody Goddy Gumdrops”
• Steam - “Na Na Hey Hey”

And, finally, I’ve decided to list one more song. It doesn’t repeat words in its title, but it merits a mention solely on the virtue of its inherent badness: “Groovin’ With Mr. Bloe,” by Mr. Bloe.

I Really Don't Like Being Without My Penis for Too Long

Because novelty rock acts are as good as we all remember them. That's why.

This has been King Missile's "Detachable Penis."

Trippy Petals (Almonds on Acid Revisited)

I posted this exact image once before, in a 2004 post "Almonds on Acid," and then again on Die Wunderkammer. I like it's simple trippiness so much that I'm posting it again, in a slightly revised color scheme.


And here's it is again, being equally trippy in blue and purple.

Time Is Fleeting

kidicarus222: also, our friends are collectively retarded
kidicarus222: have you noticed how next to no one can RSVP?
alkiehorn0307: um
alkiehorn0307: yeah
alkiehorn0307: Im making bitchy phone calls come wednesday
kidicarus222: it's one thing to send out a myspace event invite and have people ignore it, since that's basically the online version of shouting the invite at them as you roll down the street on the jolly trolley, but we actually designed invites and mailed them physically
kidicarus222: fuck
kidicarus222: i'm not contacting anyone, personally
alkiehorn0307: well
alkiehorn0307: thats a poor choice, I feel
alkiehorn0307: just because we're going to need to know how much to plan to buy
kidicarus222: oh
kidicarus222: right
kidicarus222: then can we make paper hats that say "i'm too retarded to RSVP" and make people wear them if they want alcohol?
alkiehorn0307: yes
kidicarus222: i'm serious. you know i'm serious. i will make this happen
alkiehorn0307: yes
kidicarus222: how about "my ass is so big i forgot to RSVP"
kidicarus222: "my teeth are so janky that i forgot to RSVP"
kidicarus222: "i'm too much of a raging whore to RSVP"
kidicarus222: "i was fucking my father so i forgot to RSVP"
alkiehorn0307: hahahaha
kidicarus222: "my vagina is so gaping that i forgot to RSVP"
kidicarus222: it's like the etiquette version of "yo mama"
alkiehorn0307: these are excellent
kidicarus222: i may blog this as a warning