Darwin's tortoise has died

Harriet, a 176 year-old tortoise that was believed to have been studied by naturalist Charles Darwin and help him pioneer his theory of evolution (a theory right-wingers have since proven to be poppycock, since it didn't involve Adam and Eve), died in Australia after a short illness on Friday. The elderly tortoise, who must have been the slowest thing ever to tread the planet, was hatched on the Galapagos islands in 1830, and had spent her twilight years at the Australian Zoo in Queensland, where she was the star attraction. Harriet is also listed in the Guinness Book of World Records as the world's oldest living animal. Not anymore. Now some other creature can leap into that coveted slot. Like Carol Channing, perhaps?

The new Bazooka Joe is crummy

See for yourselves, suckas. The Topps Company, makers of Bazooka Joe gum, have unveiled their "updated" version of the always-chewing mascot Bazooka Joe. And by updated I mean shitty. I understand that in the mid-90's a backwards baseball cap said "rebel", at least to the clueless, but you'd think that by now even corporate America would have caught on to how weak this approach is. At least they kept the eyepatch, though. Apparently the "radical" lifestyle is not without danger. His skateboard must have flipped up and caught him in the eye or something.

I'm not kidding myself...I realize that the old Bazoooka Joe was only so interesting. But it was better than this. This new one reminds me a bit too much of "Poochy", the radical dog character on "The Simpsons" that executives tried to bring in to spice up "Itchy & Scratchy" when ratings started to sag. Homer was hired to be the voice and it failed miserably, and Poochy was sent off into outer space without further explanation. I fear the new Bazooka Joe is here to stay, however.



At the end of the day, it's no huge deal. It's just sad because there's a lot of good artists out there who could have made this good, or at least decent. I shudder to think what they've done to his buddy who wears the turtleneck up over his nose.

I'm an idea man

A couple of weeks ago a co-worker and I were looking at stock photos when we came across one of two elephants humping.
I said, "hey, you should animate that and make them move." A couple weeks later, voila'. And now, you get to enjoy the fruits of our fertile creative partnership. Enjoy.

"Godzilla: The Play" was sublime

Yesterday Mrs Blogfoot and I had the privilege of viewing a matinee performance of “Godzilla”, an outdoor play put on by a bunch of 5-12 year old kids that live in the Seward neighborhood here in Minneapolis. Needless to say, it was awesome, with everything gloriously rendered in cardboard and tempera paint. It not only featured Godzilla, but a Mecha-Godzilla, Rodan, Mothra, King Ghidorah, a really angry Curious George and even Darth Vader. Whew. I could go and on, but instead I will post a snippet of a review from a snooty theatre critic who was rapturous in his praise, followed by some pics from the performance.



The Spotlight’s Glare
By Hieronymus P. Sinclair

“Whither the Giant Lizard?”

As mankind continues to grapple with the historical, literal and metaphorical fallout from its dalliance with the unknowable secrets of the atom, it is inevitable that artists would do the same. A keen eye would no doubt grasp that irradiated soil makes for fertile creative ground, and would subsequently seek to till this same earth for the sake of drama.

Some plucky young sprites in the Minneapolis neighborhood of Seward have done just that, and in doing so have demonstrated (at least to these old eyes) that the stage still contains the power to shock, delight and provoke. The play is “Godzilla”, and it riveted this critic to his seat, or should I say, his square of blanket on a lawn.

Performed in the round on 3 stages, it was a joyous assault on the senses. The sets literally catapulted the viewer right into the action. And the actors! Did these joyful urchins, when distracted by the occasional forgotten line of dialogue or tardy audio cue, throw a backstage tantrum or thoughtlessly destroy an expensive congratulatory bouquet (I’m talking to you, Mr. Nathan Lane)? No. Instead, fueled in equal parts by candy and chutzpah, these scamps persevered, and in doing so no doubt made the bard himself look down in pride from his stage on high.

The finale, which depicted an all-out melee between Godzilla and a gang of no-goodnik monsters, seemed to make the very earth tremble. Who would have thought such pathos could be wrung from mere cardboard and paint? I, for one, certainly did not. But I stand corrected. Bravo, children. Bravo.

Godzilla administers a most vigorous beat-down to Barney


Get thee back, Gigan!


Furious George brandishes the arm of the Man
with the Yellow Hat, who he hath no doubt rent asunder

Ghidorah the Three-Headed Monster attacks!


The all-out monster melee

Your kung fu is no match for that of Spiderman's

Did you know that Spiderman is actually Japanese? It's true. You probably are only aware of the lame American version that doesn't have giant robots, frenzied kung-fu action, a flying spider-car and a theme song sung by a Japanese Tom Jones that contains the haunting lyrics "Yeah, yeah, yeah...wow!"

This is from 1978, as if you wouldn't figure that out. The USA had a Spiderman TV show in 1978 that wasn't much better, though. In fact, I may prefer this one.

Cats that look like Hitler

If you like looking at pictures of cats but also nurture an interest in the greatest madman the world has ever known, have I got the website for you. This is something couples can enjoy together...you got cute animals for the ladies, and some war-mongering for the fellas. I suspect that this is not the only Hitler cat website out there, so feel free to google around and dig up more. Though once you've seen 10 cats that look like Hitler, you've kind of seen them all.

This cute and innocuous website was recently lent a somewhat chilling air however, due to the recent revelation made by noted historian Julius Weinrib in his new book "The Bunker" (which describes the last days of Hitler) that The Fuhrer liked to amuse himself by swatting at a ball of string.*

Go forth and wallow in the genocidal cuteness here.

*I made this up

Ah-oo-gah! Ah-oo-gah! Bigfoot In Minnesota!

A grater operator ( whatever that is, most likely some sort of loud machine) named Bob Olson found some Bigfoot footprints in Deer River, Minnesota yesterday. The prints are 15 inches long and, Bob claims, their discovery "solidifies it more because this is concrete evidence."
I couldn't agree more.

Olson's bitchy, unsupportive wife Nancy is more skeptical, however. To her, the prints just raise more questions, and she was quoted as asking (rather shrilly, no doubt) "Where are they? How come we don't see them? Are they really out there? And where (are) the women? ... Where are the children? There's gotta be more than one."

Bob, I'm going to give you the best advice you're ever going to receive: divorce that harpy/ succubus immediately.

The moustache is coming back

Recent articles online would have you believe that this is indeed the case, citing young New Yorkers who are strutting around with hair on their upper lips as they follow a "comeback trail blazed by such hip role models as actor Nicholas Cage and the ultra-trendy fashion photographer Terry Richardson." I wasn't aware Nic Cage was a role model for anything except for how to tirelessly urinate on the memory of a once-promising career, but whatever.

This is an oxcart of fragrant horseshit. Every 5 years or so some scrawny male runway model sports a moustache while modeling some clothes no one you know will every buy, and suddently the media wets itself claiming that moustaches are back. Listen: people in New York City do lots of weird shit. It doesn't mean it's going to be a trend. They pay $2500 a month to share 450 square feet of living space with a roommate, and no one's tripping over themselves to imitate that.

Moustaches will never again be anything more than an ironic accessory for this simple fact: if you have a moustache and you're under the age of 55 and not a celebrity or cop, you are going to have a hard time getting women to sleep with you. Therein lies the secret of the workings of the world.

Screech says that he's hung like a pack mule and broke

Dustin Diamond, aka "Screech" from the torn-from-the-headlines 90's teen sitcom "Saved By The Bell," appeared on Howard Stern's radio show the other day, wherein he claimed to have a 10" penis. He also said that his house in Wisconsin is being foreclosed on (my sources tell me it's in Milwaukee. That's apro po, somehow), so he's peddling poorly-designed "I helped Save Screech's House" t-shirts online to raise some loot.

Last month Wilma or Wilmer Valderawhatshisname from the incredibly lame and terrible yet-inexplicably-long-lasting "That 70's Show" also appeared on Howard Stern claiming to have a huge schlong. Hmmm...I'm sensing a pattern here. You're on a nationally broadcast radio show, and the host asks you how big your honker is. Do you A) admit that you're under 6 inches erect, or B.) lie and claim that even XXL undewear is too constrictive to properly house your knee-slapping appendage?

I wonder...who was the first dude to brag about / exaggerate their penis size? A member of the senate in ancient Rome? A caveman? A foppish 17th century dandy? It was probably the first person who could speak. A four-pack of Red Bull goes to any intrepid reader who can provide some solid insight into this question.

If you're feeling altruistic, you can visit Mr Diamond's website here. Although I strongly encourage you to donate to a worthy, non-ironic charity instead.

Blogger is killing my buzz

What is this, 1997?

The lack of posts as of late isn't my fault, people. It's Blogger. Their site has been crawling for the last week or so, turning the simple act of posting a story into a Herculean task. Or maybe it's more of a Sisyphusian ordeal. I'm not sure. But I'm positive that even if Hercules and Sisyphus teamed up (are you listening, Hollywood?), they would have trouble posting something. Blogs all over are reeling. It took a ridiculous amount of time just to post this little blurb. And don't even try posting a picture. Hopefully this shitbox free hosting site will soon get their act together so that I can more efficiently run my free webpage that I don't pay anything for.

Just to whet your appetites, subjects of some of the upcoming posts I have in the works include, but are not limited to:

*Stephen Hawking's belief that we need to colonize the moon, and quickly
*"Screech" from "Saved by the Bell's" alleged 10" penis and his attempts to stave off foreclosure on his home in Milwaukee
*Bigfoot
*"Breasts: Why Men Like Them"

Ok, that last one is made up. But the others will be heading your way soon, pending technological problems being ironed out on Blogger's end.

Blogfoot wholly and without reservation endorses The Monkey Chow Diaries

I like the cut of this guy's jib. He decided that he was going to subsist on nothing but primate kibble for a full week and document how it affected him. He's posted stats, videos and blogs about his dietary adventure on a day-to-day basis. Sorry about the late notification on this...he's only got one day left.

Read all about it here.

Why, I'm pooping as I write this blog entry

I just read an article on the ol' world wide web here that said that 6 out 10 Americans think it's rude to talk on your cell phone while on the toliet. Listen, I'm not going to sugarcoat it: if you talk to me with any regularity, I've almost certainly had a conversation with you while I'm crapping. That's just how it is. It's called "multi-tasking." I'm a busy guy, and I need to consolidate my activities so that my rich and varied life hums along at the appropriate pace. Rest assured I'm considerate, and keep the grunting to a minimum.

But people who talk on their cell phones while on a crowded city bus? Man, that's just rude.

Shaq is going to mumble you your Miranda rights

Giant, unintelligible basketball star Shaquille O'Neal has recently become a reserve police officer for the Miami Beach police department. Apparently he will be working as an investigator with the child pornography unit. I can also see him becoming a crack undercover operative. No one would ever recognize a 7' tall dude in a mustard-colored suit with a bowler hat. Just slap a fake moustache on him and watch the arrests pile up.

This is a lot of work for nothing. I mean, this guy is huge. Does he really need a badge to get people to listen to him? I think not. He should just drive around in his Escalade with one of those cheap police scanners from Radio Shack (which he endorses, by the way, except I'm sure he calls it 'Radio Shaq'), and when he finds some shit going down, he could just hop out with a 2x4 and get to work. You know, like Sheriff Buford Pusser in
"Walking Tall."

I hate to admit it...

...but this t-shirt is funny.

Men are weird

Below you will find a link to a story about a guy who, unsatisfied with the way the character of The Thing was portrayed in last year's godawful "Fantastic Four" movie, decided to make make his own Thing costume. Using actual rocks he glued on and painted orange, that is. The finished costume weighed 110 lbs. This is a lot of weight to lug around. But since the wearer had shed his dignity, shame and any traces of humility, it all evened out. I tried repeatedly to post a pic of it for those who didn't want to dig through the whole article and suffer through the pop ups, but either blogspot is messed up or his pics are corrupt, thus, no pic. His site is step-by-step though, so it's at least interesting from that perspective.

For his efforts, he was rewarded with a prize at a comic book convention. Whew.
You can revel in the step-by-step process used by this madman here.

And here's a video of some other dude who made a giant stone golem (a golem is basically a Jewish Frankenstein) out of a bunch of mattresses and then stubled around in his backyard menacing grills and folding chairs.

Why don't these losers do something productive with their time, like build models?

I'm slipping and I know it

I possess only rudimentary mathematic skills. In fact, they are more reasonably described as "arithmatic." You know...I can wrangle the check book, do my taxes (at least I used to), know if someone gave me the correct change, and so on. But I can count, or at least my blogspot counter can, and it tells me I only posted 17 stories in the last 30 days.

This is weak. I'll do better in June/early July. Stick with me, people. I'm worth it. Sorta. I mean, c'mon. I post videos you'd otherwise have to hunt for. Can you imagine going to youtube.com, then typing in "transformer costume" and hitting 'search' all by yourself? You'd crack under the pressure, you wuss.

Oh yeah...BTW, the World Cup starts this week. It's being held in Germany. How perfect is that? Germany and soccer. Expect some exciting, efficient sporting action. Some machinery will probably be involved as well.

But I digress. More posts. More humor. More other stuff. All part of Blogfoot's tireless commitement to...I'm not sure. Stuff. Let's just say we're tirelessly commited to stuff.

I am in the October of my enthusiasm

That means I'm beat. Tired. Worn down. I've been working a lot, plus putting the petal to the metal to several house-themed projects...hence the meager blogging as of late. My sincerest apologies to you, my loyal 37 (and shrinking!) readers.

This next week will bear witness to an explosion of funny, I promise.

Until then, thrill to this video of an adult man wearing a home-made Transformers costume. When I first started watching it, I said, "Pfft. Such shoddy workmanship!"
Then he transformed into a truck before my smug eyes. It's still somewhat shoddy, but...kinda neat.

Oh yeah...the video is sideways for some reason. Not my fault. Simply set your entire computer screen on it's right side and enjoy. Or you could tilt your head like you're at a book store.