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.

Say your prayers, hug the wife and kids, etc

Because tomorrow some scientists deep underground on the border between France and Switzerland are going to fire up the world's largest particle accelerator, and once they do, we could all perish within seconds. Intended to allow these foolhardy eggheads to learn how the universe was formed by analyzing particle collisions, some fear that the accelerator could accidentally create a black hole that will suck up everything around it. In other words - you, me and everything we hold dear.

The scientists called such fears "baloney." I don't know about you, but I like that guys smart enough to conceive, design, build and operate a particle accelerator the size of a small city still use words like "baloney." Brings them down to our level.

But the most terrifying part of the article to my eyes was the following: "(the accelerator) even has a rap dedicated to it on YouTube." Brrrr - such words chill the bones.

More about the impending apocalypse here. Been nice knowin' ya!

Violent coffee commercials from the 50's with muppets

On the most recent episode of "Mad Men," the agency was pitching a large coffee account that wanted to reach a younger demographic. A mention was made of a failed previous attempt that featured puppets. Well, a little digging reveals that lo and behold, such a thing did exist.

These were done on the 50's for Wilkins Coffee, and featured muppets courtesy of a young Jim Henson. They are strangely violent, especially for the era:



These would be fun scripts to write:

MUPPET #1: Hey, do you like coffee?

MUPPET #2: No.

SFX: Blam! (Muppet #1 kills Muppet #2 with cannon).

Ah, the good old days.

And another thing

Something else that has struck me as odd this week is another shrill refrain from all the RNC speeches: that the GOP believes in smaller government, that the GOP will reduce the size of the government, etc.

Well, consider this: the last time a Republican president left office with a smaller government than when he went in, it was the 1950's.

The GOP does not believe in or engender small government. The GOP likes the government to have no say in how businesses are run or regulated, but that's a whole different story.

That's the last of my scorching political commentary for now. I'll go back to posting Scooby-Doo clips.

I'm confused

Various blustery and strident speeches made during the Republican National Convention that has blighted my city this week have all had a common theme: Republicans are going to change things! No more politics as usual! Throw out the political elite and bring in some outsiders to shake things up!

I find this fairly interesting, seeing as how we've had a Republican President for the last 8 years and Republicans controlled the House and the Senate until January of 2007. So - what they are offering is change from...themselves?

An interesting strategy. I would say that voters would see right through it, except that these same voters twice-elected a privileged moron (who failed in every business venture he undertook but kept getting new opportunities due to his father's political power and connections) and were willing to swallow the image of this same mope as a salt-of-the-earth, God-fearing Texan who toiled ceaselessly to clear brush from his land.

Should be an interesting election season.

Dang

Singer, songwriter, actor and good ol' boy Jerry Reed died Monday at the age of 71. He starred with Burt Reynolds in "Smokey & The Bandit" and also wrote & performed the movie's famous theme song "East Bound and Down" (You know you know the words..."East Bound and down, loaded up and truckin', we gonna do what they say can't be done....").

He wrote songs for Elvis and Dean Martin, popped in on "Hee Haw", had a big hit in the early 70's with his novelty song "When You're Hot, You're Hot" (a personally adhered-to philosophy that we here at Blogfoot believe shapes the world in untold and myriad ways) and, lest we forget, even co-starred on "Scooby-Doo":



Jeez - would have it have killed the animators to fill in some more of the seats in concert scene? Things looked pretty sparse there.

Anyway, here's hoping you got that truckload of Coors where it needed to go, Jerry.

Ice-skating chimps

That's right: ice-skating chimps.

The website incorrectly labels them as ice-skating monkeys, but they are in error. Chimpanzees aren't monkeys. They're apes.

Anyway. Ice-skating chimps right here. My favorite moment? Right around the 1:10 mark. It involves a rope.

The persistence of corvidae* memory

*Corvidae is a cosmopolitan family of oscine passerine birds that contains the crows, ravens, rooks, jackdaws, jays, magpies, etc.


You could be forgiven, I suppose, for not knowing how smart crows are. Most people think crows are just a loud pain in the ass, but the crow is a noble and handsome beast, one that possesses a wide-ranging dialect and a fierce intelligence. Crows use tools, unlock cages and have even been known to mimic human speech. Scientists who have studied them say that they are somewhere above dogs but below dolphins on the animal intelligence scale. And it appears that they can even remember human faces and subsequently hold a grudge, according to this fascinating article in the New York Times.

So give the crow a break, would you? Next time you stroll through your neighborhood and one barks at you, just cluck back. It's probably just saying hello.

Oh - one more boastful thing: the color image above is an oil painting of a raven I did way back in 2003 for a group show. Some woman bought it, and now I like to think that it hangs in someone's private wood-paneled library, where a gentleman sits under it smoking his curvy pipe in an overstuffed chair.

As seen on ebay

Lou appears to be a happy, well-adjusted fellow, and most likely worthy of my trust. I think I will visit his ebay store.

I do believe that Lou's moustache may be the densest one I've ever seen. That thing is comprised of billions upon billions of coarse, wiry follicles, each waiting to snatch an errant fly as it buzzes past.

Puny humans to run amok at art exhibition, Hulk remains unimpressed

That’s only because The Hulk is notoriously close-minded when it comes to the visual arts. However, those who are more predisposed to dip their toes into the waters of creativity and unshackled techno geekery are wholly encouraged to come out tomorrow night (that's Saturday to you) and see a gallery exhibition of artistry by our good pals at Puny, Northeast Minneapolis’ torch-bearers of eye-popping, electronically-borne visual stimuli.

There will be a wide-ranging display of arty things, live music, a DJ, and if I were a betting man, I would say that there will most likely be various types of free crackers on paper plates as well. Details here.

The stuff of nightmares

So the Milwaukee Zoo has a new baby orangutan named Mahal, and it's biological mother died, so they've brought in a foster mom orangutan, and subsequently the plight of Mahal has captured the hearts and minds of Milwaukeeans (God knows how many single-parent and orphaned babies spring from the city's huge inner city, but who cares about them, right Milwaukee? It like Gordon Gekko said in "Wall Street": "That's the thing about WASP's. They love animals, can't stand people.").

Anyhoo, they had some contest where kids could draw Mahal, and here's one of the winners. Ready? I hope so:



Gahhh!! Make it go away!

Seriously, that's terrifying. Somehow the "I love you" makes it even weirder. Not sure why, but it does.

Keepin' it classy

Jamaican sprinter Usain Bolt has been raising eyebrows at the Olympics, not only for smashing world records and winning 2 gold medals, but his celebratory behavior afterward. What's he done? Oh, not much, really. From an AP story:

"Bolt made little effort to congratulate the other runners as he wrapped himself in a Jamaican flag and set off on a solo victory lap. Swaying to the reggae music on the stadium loudspeakers, he walked barefoot around the track, putting his face inches from a TV camera, raising an index finger and yelling, "I am No. 1! I am No. 1!"

I'm a little disappointed he didn't bend one of the other runners over and pretend to mount them, but hey, there's always London in 2012.

Book cover of the year

Simple. Direct. Powerful. It literally stopped me in my tracks during a lunchtime visit to Barnes & Noble.

Bigfoot body press conference lamest thing since "Grease 2."

I mean, if you're going to concoct a hoax, at least bring a little bit of craft to the table. Gimme a little bit of sizzle. And for f@*k's sake, if you're going to stage a press conference claiming to have the body of a Bigfoot, it might be a good idea to actually bring the body.

Who was Count Dante?

If you read comic books in the early-to-mid 1970's, you no doubt remember this full-page ad, which was seemingly in every Marvel comic published back then (not sure about DC titles, I was more of a Marvel guy):



Ah yes...Count Dante. A man so deadly that he glowed hot pink. And check out that classy-but-deadly script his name is rendered in. Plus, he flat-out says that he's the deadliest man alive. I never sent away for his free booklet of fighting secrets, probably because I was 7 years old and things never got so serious on the playground that I had to consider plucking out another kids eyeball.

As it turns out, there is a story behind this ad, and it's a good one. Count Dante was a rather notorious fellow, and aside from knocking on Muhammad Ali's door and challenging him to a fight, storming rival dojo's and walking around Chicago's lakefront with a lion on a leash, he was also suspected of being involved in a $4 million heist. Plus, he also ran a beauty salon, where he styled the hair of Playboy playmates! All this before dying in 1975 at the tender age of 36. Well, as Dr. Eldon Tyrell told Roy Batty, "The star that burns twice as bright burns half as long."

"By cutting her hair in long layers, I have given this dreary
housewife a more contemporary look. Now, I will snap her neck like a twig."

Now that I've got you salivating for more info, here's a link to a very interesting and much more in-depth look at the life of Count Dante, courtesy of the Chicago Reader.

Also, the story mentions a filmmaker who is currently working on documentary of the Count (something I would gladly pay to see), and he's selling cool t-shirts as a fund-raising tool. You can get those here. I went with the military green.

You know - there are times I look around at this world we've wrought and I weep for all that's gone awry. And then there are times like this, when by following a few links I discover that I can buy a t-shirt with Count Dante on it, and I think that somehow, everything's going to be OK.

The moment of my vindication is nigh

So a press conference has been set up for this Friday, because some dudes claim that they have in their possession the carcass of an actual Sasquatch. Details here.

Part of me is naturally skeptical of this claim. The reasons I am skeptical are thus:

1.) I'm naturally skeptical.

2.) People never seem to tire of staging dopey Bigfoot hoaxes.

3.) Anyone with half a brain knows that Bigfoots head off to a mysterious and hidden "Elephants Graveyard"-style valley to die, making the likelihood of finding a deceased specimen nil.

Naturally, I will be reporting on this story as it unfolds. But like I said, part of me fears some lame viral marketing ploy and is highly skeptical.

But the other half of me is pretty excited. How excited? Well, it can be summed up in three words: raging hard-on.

Quote of the year

Actually, this may be of quote of the decade. Or even, dare I say, the millennium.

I spent today recording a radio campaign at a production house here in town. During lunch I was flipping through an issue of People magazine whilst punishing the build-your-own-gyro spread they brought in for lunch, and I saw that there was a short article about Bret Michaels (lead singer of Poison and star of VH1's 'Rock of Love") hair philosophy (I shit you not). You know - why he has long hair, what he likes about long hair, etc. And within that was nestled this beautiful stanza from Bret regarding his long hair:

"It says 'I am a wild child. I will take you on a Harley ride, then make passionate love to you. And should you be attacked by a lion or an idiot in a bar, I will protect you."

I cannot believe dude had the balls to swipe my marriage vows. I worked long and hard on those, Brett. Rest assured my attorney will in touch soon.

Guilty as charged

A friend who reads the blog emailed me today after reading my post on my other friend's 'ghetto charisma'. He thought it was only fair to point out that there was a place that I dragged him to on several occasions in the 90's (OK, and maybe a couple times in the aughts). The place? Well, see for yourselves:



That's right: Ponderosa. That all-you-can-eat salad bar is sublime. Plus, you can't beat a sirloin and buffet for $8.99. For some insane reason the mighty Ponderosa has no presence (or pentration, as they say in the retail biz) here in Minnesota, so when I go back to Milwacky
I have to indulge.

Notes from a Perkins virgin

This weekend I got together with a friend to work on a long-gestating web project, and somehow he talked me into doing this at a Perkins restaurant, an eatery of dubious distinction that festoons seemingly every corner of this great land of ours, and one I've managed to avoid in my 40 years on this planet.

My review? Small portions of sub-par food. I would have to give it 1/2 a fork. And that's only because the waitress was pretty attentive and kept refilling my water glass before it was even empty.

This isn't the first time this particular friend has led me into a low-grade wasteland. In fact, he excels at it. Sometime ago I coined a phrase for his ability to somehow talk me into visiting establishments that I know suck.
I said he possesses "Ghetto Charisma."

Here are just a few of the places this harbinger of crud has gotten me to frequent, either in his presence or at his fervent recommendation, that I would have otherwise never step foot in:

Radio Shack

Old Country Buffet

Auto Zone

TCF Bank (I not only belong to this bank now, but I sucked my wife into its low-rent clutches as well. This "dragged into the gutter by proxy" demonstrates how powerful his ghetto charisma truly is.)

Perkins

Denny's

Arby's / Sbarro combo restaurant

Buffalo Wild Wings

William's Bar (unsavory meat-market in uptown Minneapolis where you will choke on the fog of Axe body spray hanging in the air)

Various crummy Chinese food buffets

I'm certain that I'm forgetting some. I'm also certain this list will grow in the future.

坏驴子

That's the Chinese character-equivalent of "bad-ass," because that's how I would have to describe the opening ceremony of the Summer Olympics on Friday. That was some serious spectacle, and if you didn't watch it you missed out on some pretty impressive shit.

In other news, Brett Favre in no longer a Packer, which sucks.

Amenities are important

When looking for a new apartment, there are several factors to consider. What defines luxury? I guess it's all in the eye of the beholder. But sexiness is always near the top of the list.

Thank you, Uptown Minneapolis, for being the sort of place that would post a sign such as this. You are truly sexy.

Wacky office props

Autographed photo of Richard "Jaws" Kiel? Check. 

Little statue of Zeus hurling a thunderbolt? Check. 

Old school robot? Check.

Now I can work in peace, completely secure in the knowledge that my interests are effectively communicated to all passerby.

Sheer poetry

"His tie is askew. His third-day shirt has ring-around-the-collar. His thick, wavy clump of hair overhangs eyes screwed tight in a lopsided squint, a brow that is permanently furrowed and a leathery puss smudged with unshaven stubble...he looks like an ambulatory cypress stump in baggy brown pants. And the raincoat. The raincoat is an oversized, unhung affair in the last stages of decomposition, scarred and seasoned with the grease of a thousand fingers."

Who chisled out this mighty prose that so deftly paints such an evocative portrait of a protagonist? Steinbeck? Faulkner? No, although you could be forgiven for thinking so. It was written by a titan named Alfred Lawrence in 1972, and is excerpted from "Columbo #1", a paperback novelization of a "Columbo" episode I recently bought in Denver for a quarter. "Columbo" was a fine show for its time, and I look forward to reading the read of the 126-page tome (the excerpt above is the 1st paragraph of the book! Talk about starting with a bang).

My favorite part? That's easy: "...he looks like an ambulatory cypress stump in baggy brown pants." Beautiful.

Classic Bigfoot documentary

Courtesy of the fine folks at American National Enterprises circa 1972:



It's a thing of beauty - everything viewed through a rich, golden-brown hue. And I love the part at the 2:30 mark when some old-timer decides to fire up his chainsaw right in the middle of an interview.

These were the kind of films that fired my young interest in the subject. Sadly, part 2 hasn't been posted yet. Hopefully soon.

Strong bear

A designer here at work just sent me this jpg of a bear making muscles and reveling in all it's bear power. I like it. In fact, I want this on a t-shirt, too. So whichever loyal Blogfoot reader is currently making my free, high-quality Marty Feldman t-shirt, go ahead and whip up a tee with this image as well. Print it in gold ink on a brown athletic fit shirt (no box around the bear is necessary, just the image floating), and while you're at it you might as well open the file in photoshop real quick so you can get rid of the bear's camel toe. Thanks.

Disappointed

I've gotta say, I'm pretty underwhelmed with the slim choices of Marty Feldman t-shirts available to today's consumer. You'd think in the year 2008 that when you've decided that you would like some garb adorned with the strange visage of the bug-eyed English comedian and Google "Marty Feldman t-shirt," that a veritable avalanche of choices would come your way. But you'd be wrong. The selection is really quite slim, ranging from a blurry, obviously unlicensed shot of him as Eye-gor in "Young Frankenstein" on a white Hanes Beefy-T (the lamest of all t-shirts, they are as thick and itchy as burlap and shrink in length yet grow wider with each washing), and an all-type treatment that says "I heart Marty Feldman." That's it. Two crummy options in the whole world.

Lame. Unacceptable. Outrageous.

All I want is an American Apparel colored t-shirt (in blue, maybe gold) with the below image on it, and no type.



Is that so much to ask? Apparently it is. Bah!

The world's sweetest letterhead?

Quite possibly.

How did I come into possession of this jewel? Well, after my blog post about Ted Cassidy, my thoughts naturally turned to other giant actors, which led me to the website of Richard Kiel, who portrayed the hulking, steel-toothed villain "Jaws" in the James Bond films "The Spy Who Loved me" (1977) and "Moonraker" (1979).

I saw that he was selling autographed photos for $10 (not to mention he wrote a historical novel about abolitionist Cassius Clay and a book about how to sell your home in today's competitive marketplace!)) and decided to order one. When I came back from my week off I saw an envelope marked "Richard Kiel Fan Club" on my desk. I eagerly tore it open, but it contained the wrong photo, plus it was made out to Steve, which is not my name. Also included was a lengthy letter Mr Kiel wrote to the fan, hence the letterhead.

Due to privacy issues I'm not going to show the whole letter, and in fact have already forwarded it on to the correct person. But I gotta say, I was fairly impressed that Mr. Kiel would sit down and write a full-page, single-spaced letter to what the language shows is an ailing fan. He's a classy guy. A really huge, classy guy.

Gone fishin'

The Blogfoot offices will be closed for the next 10 days, as I'm heading to Addis Ababa to help build a bridge for an impoverished village, and word is they only have dial up. Back on the 14th.

If this keeps up I'm moving to Alaska

I'm going to have find a new route through the skyway, because the "fashion" displays at Macy's are really starting to grind my gears. First it was the docksides, and now this:


At first I thought it must be a Halloween costume, but no - it's only July. So they must really think that someone would be willing to saunter around like this. And just what is that pattern on the shorts, you ask? Why it's seagulls. How jaunty! Paired with tie and white belt, it's the perfect summer ensemble for getting punched in the cock.

Good stuff

I found the below story on McSweeney's earlier today, and I've read it 3 times now and have laughed every time. So now I'm cutting and pasting it here to save lazy Blogfoot readers the trouble of clicking on a link. It's by Pasha Malla and it's called:

COVERING TEEN WOLF: ONE COACHES GUIDE

Used to be, the key to beating Teen Wolf's Beavers was just to play them on any night there wasn't a full moon. We were unlucky one season in that we met them 28 days apart, both times in their barn, and Teen Wolf destroyed us—64 points in the first game, then a quadruple-double in the second, with 14 blocked shots and 25 steals. Our third matchup, though, we were fortunate enough to have a 76 percent waxing gibbous, so it was regular Scott Howard, who turned the ball over twice before fouling out, scoreless, in eight minutes of play. These days, however, it seems the guy can change over whenever he wants, which poses a real problem to opposing coaches. What follows is the best strategy my staff and I have come up with to limit Teen Wolf's effectiveness on the court. While admittedly far from foolproof, it will, hopefully, prove useful to your team. We're all in this together, folks.

To begin, you're going to have to resign yourself to the fact that Teen Wolf is probably going to drop at least 50 points. That might seem like a lot, but, unfortunately, it's just the way the ball bounces. As coach, you need to recognize that your job isn't to do the impossible; you're not going to stop Teen Wolf entirely, but you can try to contain him by making him play your team's style of basketball. Discipline and defensive fundamentals help: nose on the ball, feet moving, channeling him into traps—careful with those, though. Soon as Teen Wolf gets two guys on him, he tends to find the open man. He's a heads-up ballplayer with great court sense, so if you're going to bring a trapping zone against Teen Wolf, make sure you have solid weak-side rotation and your defenders are communicating.

Of course, that's only if he feels like passing. Teen Wolf gets scrappy once you put the pressure on, and he's a great ball handler with a low-to-the-ground style reminiscent of Pistol Pete or a young Isiah Thomas. Add to his skill and quickness those gigantic, hirsute paws, and you're up against one hell of a dribbler. We've tried giving Teen Wolf a step, respecting his speed, but we've found that if our guys slack off him, he'll generally hit the open jumper—or else take off from wherever he's standing on the court, sail over everyone's heads, and finish with one of those dunks where he ends up sitting on the top of the backboard, howling, feet dangling down through the hoop.

While you're welcome to try it, my feeling is that man-to-man defense simply isn't an option. Some teams like to play a box-and-one, which generally works well against most lycanthropes. With Teen Wolf, though, you have to be careful. He'll just stand baying by the sideline while the rest of the Beavers run four-on-four. Then, at a signal from Coach Finstock, Teen Wolf will come screaming down the lane, fur bristling and fangs bared, for the alley-oop. (And with him having what's rumored to be a 78-inch standing vertical leap, rest assured he's even more difficult to stop once he gets up in the air.) I've heard of coaches dealing with this by putting a sniper in the crowd with a box of silver bullets and a hunting rifle. We tried it once, back when Teen Wolf was only a freshman: the shooter missed, and when the cops showed up and cleared the gym we were forced to default.

So, I bet you're wondering, if it's impossible to cover him through conventional defenses, what can we do? Here's the key: Teen Wolf doesn't get along with his teammates. While he's certainly got the individual skills to dominate most games, I'd have to struggle to think of ever seeing a more selfish player in my 28 years of coaching. He tends to alienate his fellow Beavers by doing things like stealing the ball off them, or stealing their girlfriends, and their resentment is easy for opposing teams to exploit. Sympathy seems to work well; get your players to say stuff like, "Man, sure sucks playing with Teen Wolf," or "I'd hate to have a guy like Teen Wolf on my team," and you'll be surprised how quickly the Beavers' team defense will start to open up.

Another trick is to keep on the officials about aggressive play. Granted, most refs are pretty scared to call anything on Teen Wolf, what with the risk of being devoured in the parking lot after the game. Still, it's hard to ignore someone being gouged by lupine talons, especially if the player's entrails are exposed. Coach Finstock hates sitting Teen Wolf, but if his star picks up three fouls early, there won't be any other option. Just make sure to tell your guys to resist taunting Teen Wolf while he's on the bench; it only makes him angrier, and with that anger comes frightening strength.

Finally, keep in mind that beneath all that fur, Teen Wolf is only human—or half-human, whatever—with weaknesses, just like any of us. And as a hormonally imbalanced, eternally cursed teenager, he's particularly fragile. For one thing, at just under 70 percent, Teen Wolf's free-throw shooting is comparatively weak; if you've got a kid on your team brave or crazy enough to knock Teen Wolf down with a hard foul, encourage it. Make him earn his points at the line. "Hack-a-Wolf" brought us within 10 of the Beavers during last year's playoffs—that is, until Teen Wolf dunked eight consecutive trips down the floor from the 3-point line, putting the lead out of reach.

OK, that's pretty much all I've got. As I mentioned earlier, defending Teen Wolf isn't an exact science, and you're more than welcome to alter these tactics as befits your own ball club. I hope that between us we can keep the lines of communication open and continue to share strategies that seem to work. My feeling is that there's no team that is completely unbeatable, even if their star transforms into a werewolf before every game. Oh, and if you come up with some way of preventing Teen Wolf from jumping up and catching your team's shots, I'd be particularly interested in hearing it.

Thanks, and best of luck.

You tell 'em, grandma!

So while checking the online price of the "Mad Men" Season 1 DVD set at Amazon, I decided to read some of the user reviews. I didn't have to scroll down very far before I found this rage-fueled gem, obviously submitted by a 117 year-old woman who probably hasn't had a good laugh since Uncle Miltie last wore a dress. Here is her acerbic review:


Sad to see a show that glorifies drug use!

Some interesting writing and acting ruined by use of the tobacco and alcohol drugs. Just as the movies are FINALLY starting to clean up their act with these drugs, this series comes along and almost tries to glorify them. Both drugs are weapons of mass destruction, especially tobacco. I'm sure the tobacco and alcohol pushers are happy with this series!


Jeez- heaven help this crone if she ever stumbles upon an episode of "Nip/Tuck."

But I'm glad she shined a cold revealing light on a sinister and oft-ignored blight of modern society - the alcohol pushers! They lurk on every corner, whispering to me as I walk the filth-strewn streets of this decaying metropolis. They keep trying to push their alcohol on me, but I am strong. Begone, alcohol pushers!

What the huh?

I cut through the downtown Macy's yesterday on my way to meet a buddy for lunch, and as I passed by the men's shoe department I beheld something that violently grabbed my eyeballs and started raping them. Was it?...could it be?...Ye gods, it is! A display for colored docksides / deck shoes! They're back for the attack, and they're available in green, yellow and red, so you're assured of getting a color that will offend someone.



A wave of sensations washed over me: disbelief, anger, fear, nausea...then, after I finished beating the salesman who asked if I wanted to try a pair on within an inch of his shabby life, I started to coolly access the situation. Obviously someone would want these things, or a company wouldn't have made them, and a large chain department store wouldn't have bought them. But who? And why?

Suddenly I had the answer: an asshole would want them, plain and simple. So then the ad guy in me took over, and I decided to write some taglines for the relaunch of these grosteque abortions. Blogfoot readers are encouraged to pen their own and submit them to the comments section. Here's some to get you started.

"Sperry Top Siders - It's time to be a prick again."

"Sperry Top Siders - For those who attended the fancy summer camp in 'Meatballs.'"

"Sperry Top Siders - Asshole Spoken Here."

Have fun, Blogfoot readers.

"Dynamite" magazine pulled no punches

If you grew up in the inflation-wracked, energy-crunched 1970's and bothered to attend school, you no doubt remember "Dynamite" magazine. It was sold through your school's "Weekly Reader" or Scholastic Book Club program, which was basically a pamphlet where you check off books you wanted to buy ( I bought my first Bigfoot book from the weekly reader program around 1974 or so), and a week or two later your stuff showed up. It was an exciting time.

"Dynamite" came a bit later, I think it started around 1976 or so. You could order it from weekly reader, but for some reason I felt a subscription was necessary. It was a kids magazine, so the subject matter was generally movie or TV stars kids would be interested in. "Issues of the day," I guess you could say. Like this one below:



That's right: after much wailing and teeth-gnashing amongst the editorial powers-that-be, it was finally decided that the top stars of 1978 were - Chewbacca and Shaun Cassidy. Well, they do have similar hairstyles. No doubt Lee Majors, various Sweathogs and Donnie & Marie are still demanding a recount.

"Dynamite" also gave megastars like the Captain & Tenille and Shields & Yarnell (mimes who somehow had their own TV show) valuable exposure to that critical 8-10 year-old demographic and their disposable incomes of .75 cents a week in allowance. But "Dynamite" was more than just fluffy entertainment news. They would eagerly tackle the tough issues of the day in order to supply answers to questions that were prompting schoolyard fights all across this great land of ours. To wit:



I think time has answered this question appropriately enough, no? I mean, come on - The 1978 "Sgt. Pepper" movie had George Burns in it. The "Sgt. Pepper" album? No George Burns. A clear win for the Bee Gees.

I also like that when deciding to sink it's teeth into the musical debate of the ages, they chose to go with a "Mad" magazine-style illustration for the cover in order to convey the gravity of the issue at hand. Exactly how "The Washington Post" would do it, I imagine.

Eventually (within one year) my interest on this dopey magazine waned, but not before I received not one but two cool King Kong posters that were included with issues. One was the 1976 remake poster (which came in an issue with King Kong holding "Laverne & Shirley" in his hand), and the other was a kick-ass 3-D poster of the old Kong on the Empire State Building, which hung in my room for several years. I still have the issue with the remake poster, but alas, not the cool 3D one.

**Short intermission while I go try and find a google image of said 3-D King Kong poster***

No dice. I remember seeing it on ebay about 5 years ago (and getting outbid on it), but now I can't seem to find an image of it. Nostalgia, thou art a harsh mistress.

Somehow I don't think this quote will show up on the movie poster or DVD packaging

From Harry at Ain't It Cool News comes this critical bon mot regarding Mike Myer's newest vehicle "The Love Guru":

"If shit got 'The Love Guru' on it, shit would wipe it off."

Hmmm - I'm guessing he didn't like it very much.

Great scene

Here's a fine bit of late 60's cinema, courtesy of Director George Roy Hill - a tense-yet-funny scene from "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid."



Recognize the big, knife-wielding guy? Why it's none other than Ted Cassidy, who played "Lurch" on "The Addams Family." I stumbled upon this because my wife sent me an article about Lou Ferrigno that mentioned Ted Cassidy doing the 'voice' of the Hulk (more of a growl, really) on "The Incredible Hulk" TV show, as well as the narration during the opening credits that had that speedy piano chord behind it ("Dr. David Banner: physician; scientist. Searching for a way to tap into the hidden strengths that all humans have. Then an accidental overdose of gamma radiation alters his body chemistry. And now when David Banner grows angry or outraged, a startling metamorphosis occurs...."). As you can see from this clip, Ted definitely had some acting chops. He really played the scene nicely.

Another thing I really like about this clip is that Cassidy did the classic George Kennedy technique of slowly taking off his shirt while still talking, thus striking fear into the heart of your opponent. It's a simple formula: If you take your shirt off while talking, you mean business.

A lot of people angrily tear their shirts off these days, which is both obvious and lame (I blame 80's-era Hulk Hogan for this). Plus, you ruin your shirt. Slowly and calmly unbuttoning it is the way to go. It displays a calm and confidence that is guaranteed to make the other guy wet his pants. Try it at your next big meeting, and watch clients fall in line.

Oh yeah - here's a nice still shot of Newman's kick to Cassidy's groin. Should make a nice wallpaper for your laptop:

Kinski, round 3

Here's a couple more pics showing the inclusion of green in dear old Klaus' face. At this point I have also colored in the eyes. Color tip: eyes are not white, they are basically a lighter hue of the subject's skin color. In most cases teeth would be treated basically the same. White is a color that doesn't really exist in nature, and using it out the tube is too glaring, and using it to lighten other colors results in weak, foggy hues, in my opinion.


A close-up of Mr. Kinski's penetrating, red-rimmed gaze. Note the blues, greens and oranges.

So at this point I have invested about 10 hours into the project, and would estimate that the painting is about 25% done. Now that I have all my values established via these glazed layers, I will begin to apply thicker layers of paint, blending some areas and keeping others sharply defined, and hopefully giving everything more volume and luminosity. For some reason I keep playing the same CD over and over when I work on this, which is "Saturnalia" by The Gutter Twins (an utterly fantastic record, btw). I start the CD and basically paint until it's over. Once it ends, I clean my brushes and rejoin the surface world (I work in a basement studio).

OK, that's enough painting for the time being. I won't post shots of this again until it's noticeably further along. Next up : thrill to pictures from the Blogfoot "High & Low of Wisconsin Architecture" tour, where we visited the strange and eerie House on the Rock as well as Frank Lloyd Wright's Taliesin estate in one dizzying, rain-soaked weekend.

I call that a bargain

I don't know how many of you watched the first two episodes of the new Discovery Channel series about NASA called "When We Left Earth" last night, but it was straight-up awesome. Tons of great archival footage and commentary from titans of the field like Gene Krantz and assorted astronauts who were right in the thick of things. The series continues next Sunday and is essential viewing, in our humble opinion.

On a related note, I was ordering the DVD of said episodes of the Discovery Channel website, and I noticed they had a link to Amazon.com for a fantastic item I already have called "America in Space: NASA's First 50 Years," a giant picture book whose title should pretty much explain itself to all but the densest among you. What raised my eyebrows is that this huge $50 book is currently a mere $10 at Amazon! Yowsa, wotta deal! I don't want to shill for a corporation, but that's just too darned cheap not to spread the word about. I'm assuming it's due to the Discovery Series, but who knows why, and who knows how long it will last. Check it out.

Dude named "Uncle" who recently commented, please contact me

I was moderating my comments this morning (all 2 of them - boy, you people are an opinionated lot. Real firecrackers, you are.), and I found this one, which almost made me spit out my coffee:

"I worked odd jobs at JCPenney (late 70's at "Apache Plaza" in St. Anthony, MN) and one of the oddest was wearing the Super Dennis robot costume around the store. "Super Denims" were JCPenney kids jeans."

Alright - a local boy! This comment was left in the last day or so, but was in response to some older posts regarding me trying to figure out if there really was a Robot used to advertise a line of children's jeans in the 70's or if I imagined the whole thing while in the throes of a chickenpox-related fever dream. Actually I know it existed, but I have been unable to find any proof on this worthless thing called the web that's supposed to be such a resource. If you're unfamilar with this story, previous posts are here and here.

Uncle, whoever you are, your blogger profile is disabled, so contact me so we can discuss further. And please tell me you have a photo of yourself in said robot costume. Blogfoot would pay handsomely (say, $5 or so - I'm the J. Jonah Jamenson of the internet!) for the rights to publish such a photo. Just leave a comment for this post with your email, and I'll email you and delete the comment.

Quick Kinski update

I added a darker brown to the deepest folds of his face, and mixed some blue with a darker red to make a new background - deeper and less 'orangey' - which gives him a lot more dimension.
And menace. Always looking to up the menace factor with this one.

Since this pic was shot, I also started glazing in shades of green into his facial shadows (cheekbones, above the eyes), and it's working pretty well. I'm starting to think this piece could turn out decent.

More next week once I throw some more hours at it.

How charming

So I was sitting in the lobby of a large downtown office building at lunchtime today waiting for a conference call to start regarding a shady business deal I'm cooking up, and while waiting for the phone to ring,
I wiled away the minutes gazing out onto the bustling pedestrian thoroughfare known as Nicollet Mall, when a cute little boy wandered into view. He had nice features, had a neat little outfit on, etc (you notice these things more when you have a kid yourself).



Then his mom entered the frame, and gave him a beverage to drink from. Well that's nice - a picturesque little snapshot of parenthood, thought I. Except for one little detail, that is. A detail I sadly wasn't quick enough to capture with my cellphone camera.

The mom was wearing a large belt buckle that read "Kiss My Ass."

Now, I don't want to throw stones here - but when my kid was born,
I took stock of my life and decided that maybe it was time to retire things like my "Kiss My Ass" belt buckle, which is why mine now resides in a box in the basement, waiting for the day when we have a rummage sale and someone can pay a quarter for the privilege of letting strangers that happen to look at their waistline know that make no mistake, theirs is an ass that should be kissed.

A Mona Lisa for our troubled times

Below is the oil painting of German actor/madman Klaus Kinski that I began last weekend. So far the likeness is there, but I want to exaggerate the planes of his face more and get his eyes to the point where his stare unnerves the viewer.




Right now it has just one layer of paint on the canvas, just figuring out my colors and values. I don't like to use "tube colors", rather I like to place mixed colors in layers of glazes next to each other so that the eye is tricked (which is really the root of what painting is - after all, you're trying to represent something dimensional on a flat surface). For example, people think a tux is black, but I'm doing it dark cobalt blue. The red background helps makes it appear black. The same with his skin - I won't use a flesh color, rather I'll use yellows and oranges, and rely on the intense red and blues to make it appear more 'fleshy' to the eye (flesh isn't really flesh color anyways - everyone's is obviously different). So basically what I have going here is a "triadic color scheme." That said, the red background might change to a grayish-green to make the yellows & oranges of his skin pop more. But maybe not.

OK, I'm starting to veer into Bob Ross territory - no need to give the plebian hordes too much of a peek behind the curtain. Stay tuned for further Kinski portrait updates, and watch Klaus grow more sinister and saturated with each passing week.

This guy isn't really Chevy Chase, and you're not.

Here's a picture of a Chevy Chase impersonator taken at a recent convention of similar sad people who make their living pretending to be famous people at corporate gatherings, gas station openings, bar mitzvahs, what have you.

What I like about this guy is that he left nothing to chance communicating the whole "Chevy Chase thing," regardless of what era of Chase you are familiar with. Early on in the process he donned the Lakers jersey from "Fletch" and thought, "Hmmm- this is pretty solid, but older Chase fans might not get this." So he cleverly affixed a "President Ford" pin to his lapel, and presto! - those who chuckled at Chevy's antics on "Saturday Night Live" in the 70's were magically pacified. I can't pinpoint the exact year in which the real Chase stuck a pencil in his ear, but really - does a humorous move such as this ever grow stale? I think not.

Happy Birthday, Dracula!

Venerable British actor Christopher Lee turns 86 today. He's cool.

Things I did over the last 10 days insead of blogging

I started and halfway completed a large backyard landscaping project. Tore out some vile buck thorn trees, replaced them with arborvidaes, dug holes with a pickax, etc.

I drove to Nebraska with the wife and boy to visit relatives for a couple of days.

I skillfully ducked jury duty.

I read.

I worked on an oil painting of Klaus Kinski.

I worked on a King Kong model.

Things I didn't do? I didn't blog, check email much or think about advertising.

I tell ya, that last one was especially sweet.

The Garden Yeti is here

I came home the other night to find a large box that looked like it might contain a small dishwasher or a dorm-room mini-fridge sitting on my front steps. A closer examination of said box revealed the following:


Outstanding - my Garden Yeti had arrived. I always liked this item and had blogged about it previously, but was hesitant to pony up the $100. But then I figured that I had to do my part to stimulate the economy, so what the hey. Anyway, this thing is big (over 28" high) and very cool. How big and how cool? Here are some pics.


The Garden Yeti is about as tall as a sitting, panting 75-lb dog.



The Garden Yeti is taller than a 4.2 month-old baby that is being stretched.



The Garden Yeti is very well made. Lots of detail, sturdy, etc.



The Garden Yeti stalks the bucolic, mid-century hamlet of Saint Anthony Village.

Is your yard lacking that certain panache'? Then be original and think of something else to put in your yard. But if you want to lazily copy me, you can order yours here.

"It used to be a gentleman's business. Now it's a horse orgy!"

So sayeth an aging copywriter about the changing face of advertising circa 1961 in Chip Kidd's fine new novel "The Learners." A sequel to Kidd's first book "The Cheese Monkey's", this tale finds the protagonist 'Happy' graduated from college and pursuing a position at the small Connecticut advertising agency that a design teacher he admired once worked at.



If you didn't know, Mr. Kidd is a much-sought-after (and understandably so) designer of book covers. His wide-range of work is impressive in that he has no discernible style, other than the fact that his covers are always well thought out conceptually and extremely well-executed. He doesn't force his personality on the work, nor does he always use one style of font, or always use illustration, or a rigid grid approach, or what have you. He designs something appropriate for the project at hand, which needs to be different from the solution that came before. Seemingly simple, but a task many designers utterly fail at. I guess a "style" is fine, but at some point there must be an acceptance that you are in service of the project and not the other way around.

Anyway, as highly as I think of Kidd's design sensibilities, I was admittedly a tad suspicious when I heard he was coming out with a novel back in 2002. But as it turns out, "The Cheese Monkeys" was an entertaining book with a particular kind of energy and wit that I enjoyed. The fact I went to art school (with all the good and bad that such an endeavor entails) and that the book was about the same thing no doubt helped, but the book was still rich enough in detail and characterization that anyone would most likely find it entertaining.

So I was interested in this sequel, and found it to be pretty darned good. The book was by turns humorous, dark, slight and deep, and successfully tied together a lot of themes such as:

The struggle of giving a shit and having taste when plying one's trade.

How the thumb of authority can change one's behavior in unexpected ways.

What is the proper way to advertise shoes or potato chips?

The death of the illustrator and the ascendancy of photography.

The emerging roles of metaphor, wit and irony in the changing face of communication.

It's also very-well designed, and laid out in a way that helps subtly communicate the book's themes without being overwhelming. I should also mention that, generally speaking, it's pretty funny. It's good stuff. Check it out.

Another gem from The Onion AV Club comments

This one is from a talkback for the McSweeney's novel "Arkansas" by John Brandon (a solid debut novel, btw), which is about people who just sorta fall into drug-dealing. The comment was posted by "Teenager" in response to talkbackers debating the notion of people turning to crime out of boredom, and goes like this.

I am from a town without cool bars and a shitty music scene.

I wouldn't turn to crime, but I do think about it a lot.

I know other people do too. I know this because GTA4 is selling exceptionally well.

Well said, Teenager. You nailed the "no-holds-barred yet consequence-free" appeal of video games. Deep down, we all just want to whack a hooker in the head with a lead pipe. We're animals, or at least our avatars are.

Dude is old

Republican Presidential candidate John McCain is old (he's also ornery, but that's not what this is about). Just how old is he? He'll be 72 this August, meaning that if elected (god forbid) he would be 2 years older than Ronald Reagan was when he took office in 1981. Wow. I'm not sure I'd trust a 72 year-old to do much besides say "hello" to me on the rare occasion I saunter into a Wall Mart, let alone run my country. But as always, I'm sure I'll be in the minority on this matter.

Anyway, back to making fun of how old this guy is. It seems as if someone has saved us the trouble of keeping track of all the things that John McCain is older than. How thoughtful. It's quite a list, and you can find it here:

Thanks to the always gentlemanly Will Dinski for the heads up.

High-end crap

For a first-class-experience all the way, I suggest you make a sandwich using Buddig Select deli meats, wash it down with a bottle of Budweiser Brew Master Private Reserve, then top it off with a bowl of Blue Bunny Premium ice cream. That's how rich people who demand the best that life has to offer do it. Face it: that regular Buddig meat and Blue Bunny ice cream are for serfs, peons and suckers.

Let's all repeat the infinitively recursive poem/rhyme

My name is Yon Yonson, I live in Wisconsin. I work in a lumber mill there. The people I meet when I walk down the street, they ask me my name and I say: My name is Yon Yonson, I live in Wisconsin. I work in a lumber mill there. The people I meet when I walk down the street, they ask me my name and I say: My name is Yon Yonson, I live in Wisconsin. I work in a lumber mill there. The people I meet when I walk down the street, they ask me my name and I say: My name is Yon Yonson, I live in Wisconsin. I work in a lumber mill there. The people I meet when I walk down the street, they ask me my name and I say: My name is Yon Yonson, I live in Wisconsin....

And so on, into infinity. Or madness. Whichever comes first.

I'm not sure why this popped into my head today, but it did. It was used by Kurt Vonnegut in "Slaughterhouse Five", although he didn't originally write it. It's origins are sketchy, although it may spring from Swedish immigrants arriving in the new world. Or it may just be one more retarded thing that springs from Wisconsin.

Thus endeth today's public service message.