Halloween trademark dodge #1309

Spied this yesterday at a store - the "Disc Jockey Wig."



No disc jockey in particular - just your average, everyday disc jockey. It is certainly not meant to be a famous "shock jock" popular for the sexual and scatological content of his nationally-syndicated morning program. Nope. Put away your legal writs, litigious-minded lawyer-types - this is just a plain old ordinary disc jockey.

Thirsty? Filled with rage? Try a Kinski Brau.

These days the beer industry is awash with brands spewing forth pointless positioning phrases like "superior drinkability" and "cold filtering" and the like. All these qualities are bunk. What a man really wants in a beer is good old-fashioned gestalt.

It is for these mercurial, insane and Teutonic-skewing men that we make Kinski Brau.



Created in tribute to the legendary German thespian / madman Klaus Kinski, Kinski Brau is hand-crafted in small batches, primarily because it's makers are given to fits of rage and cannot stay calmly on task for too long.

This copper-colored brew has a pleasant hop aroma and is the perfect fuel for screaming at your director or haranguing audiences, photographers and fans. As venomous invectives fly forth from your snarling, foam-flecked lips, you will find yourself beguiled by the beer's assured yet-not-overpowering taste. Your eyes will bulge from their sockets as your mood careens wildly from lustful joy to murderous rage in the flash of an instant, and you will remark, in the form of some sort of sneered insult barked in your guttural native tongue, of how well this lager goes with various boiled meats.

Fall is the perfect time to enjoy a batch of our fine brew, whether you are consumed with raking the leaves, completely obliterating a hotel room, or hatching a murderous plot to kill one of your long-time collaborators. We'd like to think Klaus himself would enjoy a couple bottles of our carefully crafted beer, most likely before cracking the empty bottles over our heads. We encourage you - no, scratch that - we demand that all you schweinekopf try a bottle of Kinski Brau today.



Kinski Brau is a product of Blogfoot Brewery, Saint Anthony, MN

Chimp + Segway = Magic

And to elevate this clip to even more dizzying heights, the chimp is wearing overalls.



I've got to hand it to the chimp - he figured it out pretty quick. Some might criticize his dismount technique, but I applaud his classic "abandon ship!" approach.

Less is more

Here is a sublime piece of package design I spied today whilst shopping for some Halloween supplies. I required no false facial hair, but the $1.29 price tag and elegant graphics nonetheless caused me to part with me hard-earned cutter.


It looks less like a package and more like a vintage pamphlet warning youths about the dangers of tramp beards. I would be certainly be interested in reading such a hand-out, as well as it's harrowing companion volume "Vagrant Moustaches."

I smell a top-selling calendar

Here's a couple of pictures that would make even the toughest whale-hunting, baby-seal-bludgeoning seaman grow misty-eyed.



I think the calendar should be called "Hugs 2009." Ideas like this are why I get paid the big bucks, people.

That second picture is the funniest thing I've seen in a while. That is pure, unadulterated, straight-up joy right there. It makes one wonder: can chimps giggle? And if so, what does said giggling sound like? I know they hoot and screech when excited, but this picture says "giggle" more than "hoot and screech.". Kudos to Cute Overload for bringing these pics to light.

Good stuff

I'm not going to say much about this except that it's from Robert Smiegel's "TV Funhouse" show that was on Comedy Central and that it has a premise that is very close to genius.

Can I inquire as to where you got that charming lawn jockey?

So yesterday I was sitting at work, pecking away at my computer on a pitch that I've generously been given a whole day to come up with concepts for, when I heard the ding of an incoming email. I opened my email program and saw that it was a mass email from some people I know in Cedarburg, Wisconsin who are always passing along "funny" emails to their friends.

These people were good friends of my now-deceased father. Their kids loved him, and when he was sick they went over and helped him out with things, checked on him, ran errands, etc. Their help was invaluable, especially seeing as how I lived in another state. They've also been very nice to me over the years and have always seemed like nothing but kind, decent people.

Usually their email attachments are of the typical dumb email variety that clog this great internet of ours on a daily basis - purported photos of giant cats, fat people, anti-Chicago bears jokes, etc. But I knew I was in for a wild ride when I saw the subject line that read "The Next Air Force One."
I was fairly certain this wasn't going to be a jab at McCain, but even I, as cynical as I am, was unprepared for the image that greeted me upon opening the email (FYI - I wrestled with whether or not to even post this on my blog and thereby be complicit in continuing it's exposure, but ultimately I decided that such things must sometimes be seen to be believed).

Are you ready, Amos and Andy fans? Here goes (click to embiggen).


Yow. Now I think we can all agree that this is unforgivably racist, unfunny, inappropriate, etc (not to mention that it swiped artwork from a Curious George book). But what also lept out at me was that it's creator was so proud of his efforts, so sure that he had created something that would spread like wildfire, that his signed his work! Scott Seibert, you are a thick-headed dullard and most likely beyond any sort of human redemption, but I must say that you have ginormous balls. Without a doubt they are larger than your walnut-sized brain. Now f*#k off.

Terrific

The national debt clock near Times Square ran out number spaces yesterday. I guess they can always tape up sheets of paper next to it. At this point I'm not even sure why we bother keeping track. A number such as this is so abstract that they may as well just tack up a Pollock painting in it's stead.

In related news, I've dug a moat around my property, planted a garden and bought a shotgun. So be warned: even if you and your hungry family make it past the alligators, I will shoot you before you can ravage my carrot crop.

Choose your zombie fate

Here's a nice little interactive zombie movie - you choose the way the story progresses by selecting one of two options, you go the next scene, repeat, etc. It's "Dragon's Lair" meets "Night of the Living Dead."

Click here to "Survive The Outbreak"...if you dare! And you probably do dare, seeing as how you're no-doubt looking to kill more time at work.

I thought this was a fairly high-quality effort. But I must take umbrage with the fact that as someone well-versed in zombie lore, I feel that there was some inaccurate developments. Specifically, when I granted the sweet release of death to a man wounded by a zombie bite by shooting him in the head, or left a hobbled, injured person to their fate, I was punished by the game - ie; attacked and killed by zombies.

This doesn't cut the mustard in my book. Everyone knows that anyone bitten by a zombie is going to become a zombie themselves and be a sure-fire threat down the road. And a wounded person is straight-up unnecessary ballast - they will slow you down and almost certainly get killed anyway, and most likely doom you in the process. So, to re-cap: Leave the wounded behind, and shoot any bitten people in the head. You have my permission to do the same to me in the case of a zombie outbreak (although my natural quickness, penchant for snug clothing and close-cropped hair will give me a huge edge when it comes to escaping the grasping clutches of a zombie horde).

Perfection

I found this on the web but it wasn't credited, so I don't know from what great mind it sprang. But I do know that it rules.

Paul Newman 1925 - 2008

"I wanted to acknowledge luck. The beneficence of it in many lives and the brutality of it in the lives of others, especially children, who might not have a lifetime to make up for it."

-Paul Newman, on his style of low-key philanthropy

He was a great-looking movie star who eschewed traditional leading-man roles in favor of playing heels and anti-heroes and became an icon for it. He was a fine actor who was nominated for 10 Academy Awards and even as he aged continued to turn in tremendous performances (1982's "The Verdict" and 1994's "Nobody's Fool," a movie that reminds me very much of my pop, come to mind.). In the span of 4 years he managed to make 3 films that started with the letter "H" - "Hud," "Harper," "Hombre." He was reportedly thrilled when he found that he had made #19 on Richard Nixon's famous enemies list in the 70's for his political views. He was an accomplished racer of cars and managed to remain married to the same woman for 50 years, once famously remarking "Why go out for hamburger when I have steak at home?" As simply an actor and one of cinema's all-time great movie stars, his life would certainly be memorable and worthy of remembrance.

But Newman took things up a notch. In 1980 or so he and a friend got the idea that his homemade salad dressing, which he bottled and gave out as Christmas presents to friends and neighbors, could do some good in the world via his celebrity. Thus was born "Newman's Own" line of food products (Mrs. Blogfoot has never gotten over the fact that I prefer Newman's delicious "Marinara" spaghetti sauce to her mother's recipe). With a company motto of "Shameless Exploitation in Pursuit of the Common Good," this company has donated all of it's after-tax profits to charities, an amount that to date is estimated to be be over $250 million dollars. Relief efforts, schools, and arts & humanities have all benefited, but a good chunk of it goes to his "Hole In The Wall Gang" camps. Named after his gang in "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid", the camps are a place where children with life-threatening diseases can attend free of charge and forget about being sick and just be kids for a while.

Did he do this for publicity? Hardly. In fact, he turned down a proposed commendation from President Clinton in the 90's for his efforts. As former camp counselor Dahlia Lithwick writes on Slate.com:

"In an era in which nearly everyone feels entitled to celebrity and fortune, Newman was always suspicious of both. He used his fame to give away his fortune, and he did that from some unspoken Zen-like conviction that neither had ever really belonged to him in the first place."

Plus, he ate 50 eggs. Nobody can eat 50 eggs.

Well said

Legendary investor Warren Buffet on the subject of gold and the world's obsession with acquiring and basing currency on it:

"It gets dug out of the ground in Africa, or someplace. Then we melt it down, dig another hole, bury it again and pay people to stand around guarding it. It has no utility. Anyone watching from Mars would be scratching their head."

I like every word in this quote. But I especially like the "...or someplace" part.

Ye Gods

If you tried to envision the most terrifying headline you might possibly see today, you'd probably think that said headline would have something to do with the current economic crisis, or that some crazed dictator has the nuke, or that Al Queda has struck again.

But you'd be wrong.

"Let me ask you this: Does it have to be a whale? Wouldn't an airplane-sized shark be scarier?"

Ain't' It Cool News is reporting that some visionaries in Hollywood are gearing up to make a new, big-budget version of Herman Melville's classic "Moby Dick." Except of course, that they are determined to change it in order to make it more palatable to today's moronic audiences.

"Our vision isn't your grandfather's version of 'Moby Dick,'" said screenwriter Adam Cooper. "This is an opportunity to take a timeless classic and capitalize on the advances in visual effects to tell what at it's core is an action-adventure story."

Well Adam, at it's core 'Moby Dick" is actually a symbolic and metaphorical examination of man's hubris, obsession and futile attempts to control his fate and impart his will on nature, set against a backdrop of the whaling industry that was so vital to our growing nation at the time. But whatever.

The story goes on to say "The writers revere Melville's original text, but their graphic novel-style version will change the structure."

This means they will attempt to cram a hot chick in there somewhere.

"Gone is the first-person style narration by the young seaman Ishmael..."

Makes sense. He was only the vessel through which the reader understands and interprets the story.

"This change will allow them to depict the whale's decimation of other ships prior to to it's encounter with Ahab's Pequod..."

Translation: "We're going to rip off "Jaws" as much as legally possible. And there will be plenty of unconvincing CGI."

"...and Ahab will be depicted more as a charismatic leader than a brooding obsessive."

This also makes sense. Why would someone who had their leg bitten off by a whale waste time and energy brooding, or be obsessive? In fact, can we ditch that whole peg-leg thing? No A-list actor is going to want to waddle around on a peg-leg. It's just not very sexy. Instead, maybe he just has a scar on his face? Not too big, though - a tasteful scar. And now that I think of it - that title. "Moby Dick?" A sperm whale named Dick? Come on - kids are going to laugh at that. Maybe we could change it. Something like - "Leviathan"? No , too highbrow. Maybe..."White Death"? Well, we've got time to hash all that out. Can someone see if Brett Ratner is available?

Yikes

Columnist Gregg Easterbrook points out the following dreary fact in his fine "Tuesday Morning Quarterback" column on espn.com:

"It took the United States 209 years, from the founding of the republic till 1998, to compile the first $5 trillion in national debt. In the decade since, $6 trillion in debt has been added. This means the United States has borrowed more money in the past decade than in all our previous history combined. "

Yikes indeed.

It's that time of year again

Am I referring to the forthcoming fall equinox? No, nothing so pedestrian. Instead, I am speaking of the birth anniversary of none other than Mr. Adam West. Mr. West turns 80 years young today. He is akin to a god.

ibong

I saw this photo on some other blog that I forgot to bookmark, so I can't credit them. Sorry, dudes. But what we have here are a couple of visionaries who decided that they didn't want to just thoughtlessly add to one of our nation's ever-growing landfills, so they took their old mac and made a "tobacco" pipe out of it. Well done, gents. I also like that one guy took pains to conceal his identity while the other stared brazenly into the camera. And, for the final flourish, all this went down in a purple room.

Thud

That's the sound of the Dow dropping 500 points the other day. Well done, Wall Street. So much for deregulation. But I must admit, it's pretty clever how you've managed to socialize risk but privatize profit.

It's deja vu all over again

"I was defined as the insider [in New Hampshire], and those days are over. I'm going to make it very clear to the voters of this state who Mr. Outsider is and who Mr. Insider is."

-George Bush referring to John McCain, 2000.

To communicate his new maverick image, Bush then adopted the slogan "A Reformer With Results." Now McCain and his Creatonism-favoring running mate are sounding the same horn.

Since we're all just going to buy this sack full of malarky and pretend that the last 8 years never happened, I'd like to tell you about this great new song I heard: it's called "Who Let The Dogs Out?" and it's by a hot new band called the Baha Men. It's utterly infectious, and I'm convinced these guys have the talent that will stand the test of time.

We're not out of the woods yet

OK, so turning on the Large Hadron Collider early this morning didn't create a black hole that sucked in everything in it's path.

Yet, that is.

It is my understanding that right now the LHC is only firing particles in one direction, and things won't actually start colliding for a month or so. Once that starts, the feared-but-unlikely black hole could manifest at any time. So if you're sitting on the couch minding your own business sometime in October and suddenly your perception of time slows down and everything looks all rubbery and stretched out, prepare to be winked out of existence.

And what would that be like? Well, charmingly enough, something like this:

"Your body would be shredded apart into the smallest possible pieces. Neil deGrasse Tyson, director of the Hayden Planetarium at the American Museum of Natural History, who wrote the definitive account Death by Black Hole, imagined the experience as "the most spectacular way to die in space."

Thanks, Neil. I'm going to head home and tightly clutch my teddy bear now.