Minneapolis zombies claim their rights were violated

Some zombies spent last weekend in the hoosegow here in Minneapolis. Apparently they were having a "zombie dance party" downtown, were detained by police, and then arrested and held. They also claim that police said that they were going to shoot them in the head. No shit, Sherlock. The Minneapolis police force is a well-trained one, and they know that when you see a zombie, you should shoot it in the head. That's called "our tax dollars at work."

The bad thing is that now we're going to have a class 3 or worse zombie epidemic on our hands. One can only assume that the zombies grew hungry while in lockup, and, most likely unsatisfied with the baloney sandwiches they were given, decided to snack on their fellow prisoners. Those prisoners will in turn become zombies, and when released on Monday, will lurch out into the twin cities in search of living flesh. Board up the windows and stock up on canned goods, people. This is going to be bad.

You can read the chilling tale in it's entirety here.

Followed by the greatest album cover of, well...at least 1986

When neo-classical guitar god Yngwie Malmsteen was ready to uneash his album "Trilogy" upon the world in 1986, he called upon the finest colored pencil artist he knew (probably a relative), and this was the result: Yngwie warding off a three-headed, fire-breathing dragon with his guitar. He doesn't appear to actually be playing the guitar, which is strange, because anyone who has heard Yngwie fry the frets knows that he could indeed defeat a dragon in such a manner. No, instead Yngwie (pronounced Ing-vay) is simply holding the guitar aloft, which the artist would have us believe is enough to thwart Fafinir the Mighty Dragon of the Isles*. How fake is that?

*I decided to name the dragon

For those of you who are unfamilar with Mr. Malmsteen, he was some weirdo from Sweden or somewhere like that who played the guitar super-fast and suposedly mixed in "classical" elements. It was kind of a trend (albeit a sad one) in the mid 80's, aimed at the discerning metal head who had tired of simplistic, snarling riff-rock but still liked dragons. But perhaps the mysterious entity known as "Guitarimonicus" can put it best. Thus, here are some excerpts from his user review from amazon.com:

"Yngwie can be described as an amalgamation of metal, blues, and classical mixed together to present a heterogeneous style that is unique and appreciable."

"I just saw him live last weekend and can say that his finger speed in person is dazzling. Scalloped frets or not, he can play blindingly fast anywhere on the guitar, and the cleanliness of both his picking and fingering hands while he plays above the 12th fret is simply amazing."

"Any guitarist who bashes Yngwie as merely a shredder (a complete misnomer) needs to consider switching to a more suitable instrument, perhaps the lute."

Dang. I believe I was just insulted by a guy named "Guitarimonicus."

I should add that I actually saw this guy in concert in Milwaukee back in 1987. I was working at a record store at the time, and got free tickets from a label rep because a friend of mine loved this kind of shit. What's more, we had front row seats. I shit you not. At one point Yngwie pointed at my friend (who didn't sit down the entire time) and then launched into a hilariously fast, super-long solo. I think my friend shot his wad right then and there. The whole scene was strange and more than a little retarded (I was not into this kind of music at all), and the thing I remember the most was that the venue held about 1,500 people, and even though it was full, there was only about 6 women there.

Thus endeth my neo-classical metal tale.

The greatest black light poster of all time

This is a black light poster from the 70's, and it's brilliant. It's like the Hulk grew a weird plant-like afro and beard, then smoked some weed out of human skull and then flipped you off. It's titled, elegantly enough, "Torga."

You can click on it to enlarge, then print out and hang it on your wall to piss off your old man. I imagine that's what the poster was scientifically engineered to do anyway.

My industry embarasses me

I work in advertising, and I've always been pretty realistic about what that involves: selling shit. It's certainly creative, but it's primary purpose is to move money around the economy. That noted, I primarily view my role as creating something interesting that doesn't irritate or anger whoever sees /hears it. Hopefully I go beyond that and manage to amuse / entertain them. The large percentage of ads are crap (just like the large percentage of movies, music and TV is crap), so I try to work at places that endeavor to do better work. Keep in mind that without advertising, there would only be 13 different magazines printed, and they would cost $30 a piece. Your cable bill would be about $190 dollars a month for 7 channels, all of them begging for money constantly like PBS. It's intrusive and not perfect, but it helps spur the creaky cart of capitalism along. Plus, I get to be creative just about every day, work with interesting people and I don't have to follow a dress code.

But this is the kind of stuff that makes me want to run for the hills.

CBS is going to start putting ads on eggs. That right. Fucking eggs. Because research shows that half-awake / hungry people are the perfect demographic for "CSI:Miami." And they are calling it "egg-vertisng." Get it? Whooo! That's rich. Here are some of the other "egg-cellent" (to paraphrase Vincent Price as "Egghead" on the 60's "Batman" TV show) gems they've mined from the rich soil of wordplay:

“CSI” (“Crack the Case on CBS”)
“The Amazing Race” (“Scramble to Win on CBS”)
“Shark” (“Hard-Boiled Drama.”).
Variations on the ad for its Monday night lineup of comedy shows:
“Shelling Out Laughs”
“Funny Side Up”
“Leave the Yolks to Us.”

And yes, someone did get paid to write those.

George Schweitzer, president of the CBS marketing group, said he was hoping to generate some laughter in American kitchens. Ah. So that's the sound I've been hearing echo through my neighborhood every morning.

Next up in the ad que: getting bent over and gang-raped by a bunch of guys dressed like Abe Lincoln while they shout out what exciting programs are on The History Channel that week. It's a great way to reach the target audience in an unexpected way.

Red Buttons is dead

Actor / comedian Red Buttons has died at the ripe old age of 87, presumably from being 87. He was a vaudeville star at a young age, had his own TV series in the 50's, and starred in many films, including his memorable turn as "Pockets" in John Wayne's "Hatari!", one the greatest movies ever exposed onto celluloid.

He is not be confused with actor / comedian Red Skelton, who is also dead.



Nazi villain and Captain Amercia foil the Red Skull is presumed still alive, however. His whereabouts are unknown.

Stan Lee is punk rock

Here is a picture of comics legend Stan Lee giving "the finger" to a photographer. Johnny Cash has got nothing on Smilin' Stan. I notice there is a "Spider-man" poster in the background, which leads me to postulate the following: Stan was in attendance at the premiere of the "Spider-Man" movie, and thought it would be cool to make Spidey's web-slinging hand gesture (which is actually a palms-up version of the popular rock on / demonic hand gesture thingy) at the camera, but he forgot how to do it because he's old, and old people forget things. But I do think that the Members Only jacket really adds a nice air of menace to the proceedings.

To boldly go where no trademark attorney has gone before

This character looks familiar for some reason...I can't place it, though. Hmmmm. Wait
a minute...I think I remember this guy now. He was from a short-lived science fiction program that was on TV in the late 60's. If memory serves, I think he is an alien from the planet Zulcan, home to a race of beings that tend to be highly emotional. I seem to remember that he also flies around on a starship and takes orders from a Captain Mirk while always finding himself in agreement with the jovial Dr. McCay. Oh, the adventures they had!

This is an action figure made in 1974 by a fly-by-night outfit named Lincoln International Toys. They mainly produced terrifically bad figures of classic monsters such as Frankenstein, Dracula, The Wolfman, et al...but for some reason decided to brazenly toss this one into the mix as well. And why not? Absolutely no copyright infringement going on here.

Lennie, we hardly knew ye...

Lennie Weinrib, the voice of "H.R. Pufnstuff" has died at age 71. He was also the star of "Magic Mongo" (pictured above), a live-action Saturday morning show about a bungling, beach-combing genie (!) that was part of "The Kroft Supershow", as well as the voice of Scrappy-Doo and legions of other cartoon characters. Check his name at imdb.com and you'll be shocked at how many voices he did that you'd recognize, such as "Inch Eye Private Eye" and "Jabberjaw", a cartoon about a cowardly great white shark that talked like Curly from the Three Stooges and played drums in a rock band but didn't devour people.

Conan is totally going to bang this chick

I mean wench. Conan is totally going to bang this wench. Notice how the creators cleverly have Conan (sorry about the rampant alliteration) breaking the fourth wall and looking slyly at the reader? Who says comics are just for kids? Not I.

Satan welcomes new bunkmate

Former Enron CEO / shitheel Kenneth Lay has died of a massive cornonary at the age of 64. He was awaiting sentencing after being found guilty of conspiracy and fraud in the Enron trial in May. This proves the old adage that "you can't take it with you." And by "it"
I mean the millions of dollars you enriched yourself with by selling falsely inflated company stock which competely obliterated the retirement plans of all the people who worked for you.

There's only one way to fell an ogre: lightning bolts

Don't analyze this one too much. Sometimes it's best to just let art flow over you.

Oh yeah...my site visits are down, people. Forward Blogfoot on to the unenlightened, and let's get this train rolling again.

Dude, just dial down the center and call collect

Remember "The Incredible Hulk" TV show from the late 70's? I think we can all agree that it was pretty weak. You'd get two meager hulk-outs an episode, and those usually just resulted in The Hulk throwing some goons 15 feet or picking up the rear end of their car. Then he'd run away. I guess that mournful piano theme they played at the end while Bill Bixby walked away was evocative enough, but the rest wasn't so hot. Nonetheless, I still watched it regularly. Whaddya want? I was 11 years old.

Anyway, here is a clip with the worst excuse for turning into The Hulk ever. Unless there's an episode where someone poor short order cook enrages Mr. Banner by forgetting to hold the onions as he requested.

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.