Lattice of Coincidence...

"A lot o' people don't realize what's really going on. They view life as a bunch o' unconnected incidents 'n things. They don't realize that there's this, like, lattice o' coincidence that lays on top o' everything. Give you an example; show you what I mean: suppose you're thinkin' about a plate o' shrimp. Suddenly someone'll say, like, plate, or shrimp, or plate o' shrimp out of the blue, no explanation. No point in lookin' for one, either..."

--Miller

Way back in August 2006 the lovely and talented Melinda June mentioned the Compound favorably on her blog. I started reading her, and checking out the sites she linked to, and then the sites the people she linked to, linked to. It took me a a little while, but I realized that quite a few of these bloggers:

• were from the midwest
• specifically from the Chicago area
• about the same age as we were
• had a bunch of the same interests we did
• frequented a bunch of the same bars and hangouts we used to

Melinda, it turns out, grew up in Iowa a short distance away from a bunch of MizBubs' family. Melinda, Lulu and Coaster Punchman all went to school in the same town as some of MizBubs' family. Tenacious S is a huge fan of Naked Raygun, and MizBubs' best friend dated their drummer for a long time. Lulu grew up a short distance away from where we now live, and now lives about a couple blocks away from where I used to live--we've essentially switched neighborhoods. Johnny Yen went to the same grammar school as MizBubs, and had the same teacher in the gifted program. He also worked at a barbecue joint next door to the tattoo parlor where MizBubs and I both got some work done.

And yet none of us ever ran into each other. Until recently.

MizBubs and I had the good luck to have met Lulu, Tenacious S and Johnny Yen recently. Last Friday night we all met and had a couple of well-deserved drinks at Tiki Terrace. The coincidence continued; Lulu informed me that it used to be the site of a Mexican restaurant that allowed underage teens to drink, and I collected bloody clothing on one of my first big cases from the 7-11 across the street.

I can't remember the last time three or four hours passed by so quickly. Let me tell you--I don't think you could ask for a better group of conversationalists. At times it almost turned into a game of "6 degrees of separation", made more surreal by the Hawaiian language version of theCarter Family tune "Will the Circle Be Unbroken" playing in the background.

Oddly enough, no one ordered a plate of shrimp. Maybe next time.

Clown killer remains at large...

I hope you vicious clown haters are happy now:

Two circus clowns have been shot dead during a performance

I think that either drugs or Marxist politics may have been involved.

Germany or Florida

Time for another round of Germany or Florida. Decide if each of the following news stories originated in Germany or Florida. Scroll down for the answers.

1) A woman goes into the hospital to give birth. A few months later she's a quadruple amputee, and the hospital won't explain what happened to her.

2) A brother and sister, both in their 20's, are going to court to legalize their incestuous relationship. The brother has already done some time in jail.

3) A "growing subculture "Emo" fad where teens cut themselves to express their personal pain has prompted concern from parents..."

4) "Flyer's chocolate", "shabu" or "gingerbread", an amphetamine that causes euphoria and excitement, has become a popular party drug.












1) Florida.

2) Germany.

3) Florida.

4) Germany.

There is no "I" in team

But there are plenty of clowns.

Friday Random Ten: February 23

Twisting—They Might Be Giants

Femme Fatale—The Velvet Underground

I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry—Johnny Cash

Death at the Bar—Kitty Wells

Settin' the Woods on Fire—Hank Williams

Honky Tonk Man—Johnny Horton

Saving All My Love For You—Tom Waits

We're Desperate—X

I Asked For Water—Howlin' Wolf

The Big Three Killed My Baby—White Stripes

You can't always get what you want

But if you try sometime, you just might find, you get what you need.

And what I need is a drink. A fruity tropical drink, swilled down with gusto, surrounded by tropical foliage and dazzling conversation. So I'm just twitchy with anticipation, waiting to head over to Tiki Terrace Friday night.

My first two days off have been almost entirely consumed by running errands (not mine, other people's) and I have a sense of having gotten nothing worthwhile done. I worked a cool side job today, escorting a few million dollars worth of jewelry for a TV appearance. Some of the jewelry had been worn by Scarlett Johannson, and some was bound for the Oscars this Sunday.

I'm sitting here talking with MizBubs. She's just figured out how to turn the heel of a sock she's knitting. I wish I had any ability to actually create something. MizBubs, and both of our daughters, know how to make stuff: jewelry, clothing, art. So, anyway, we're talking about going down to New Orleans and doing some building. And I'm ranting and bitching about work. Our eldest is getting ready for Fangoria Weekend of Horror in Rosemont this weekend; she's hanging out as a Tromette again.

Get me to the weekend. And get me some sleep.

On, Wisconsin

More news from our cheese-making, brandy-drinking brothers to the north:

Man mistakes porn DVD as woman's cries for help

James Van Iveren, 39, grabbed a sword and allegedly kicked in his upstairs neighbor's door when he mistook the sounds of a porn movie for the sound of a woman being assaulted. James was at home with his mother at the time, and couldn't call police because he has no telephone.

I think he was hoping that 19 years of sword fighting at the Bristol Renaissance Fair would finally pay off and he'd get to rescue a maiden.

When more is not enough

I think that we all need to take this quiz immediately to see if we need this product. Be warned, though, even a miracle drug like this may have some potential side effects.

Today in Televangelism

February 21st, 1988: Jimmy Swaggart gives his famous "I have sinned against you" speech, blubbering and begging forgiveness after getting caught with a hooker in a Metairie, Louisiana motel. Swaggert, who helped drive fellow evangelists Jim Bakker and Marvin Gorman out of the ministry, was then defrocked himself. Clearly the irony was lost on Jimmy, as he then railed against the Assemblies of God for their lack of forgiveness. There are some good accounts of Swaggart's travails here and here.

Showing how much tougher your old school preachers were, Swaggart blamed his hooker and porn problem on demons, and had said demons cast out over the telephone by Oral Roberts--no three weeks of chickenshit Ted Haggard "counseling" for Jimmy. Nope, just one phone call.

The demons stayed cast out for at least a couple of years. In 1991 Swaggart was again caught with a prostitute. Showing that the forgiveness of his followers was near-inexhaustible, he still had a congregation. He addressed his flock: "God says it's none of your business!"

And he still has that congregation: Jimmy Swaggart Ministries.

I'd say it's clear that Rev. Swaggart has been humbled by his struggles with sins of the flesh. During his Sunday sermon on November 10, 2002, Swaggart shared his thoughts on the prophet Muhammad:

Thank God for that Baptist preacher who stood up and said at a Baptist convention, "I'm going to tell you who Muhammad is: he is a sex pervert, deviant, pedophile who married a 7-year-old girl."

You're not hearing me saints? "What did you say," you ask? The Baptist preacher before thousands said Muhammad was a sex deviant, a pervert, a pedophile. He married a 7-year-old little girl! A little girl, seven years old--that's a pedophile. And, oh, the news went crazy. "Ohhhhhhhh! Hear what he said?"

I don't know who you are, Mr. Preacher, but thank God for you--thank God for a spine that's like a Texas sawlog. Thank God for a heart that beats for Jesus Christ.

Speaking for myself, personally, if I'd ever been caught getting freaky with a series of prostitutes, I'd probably refrain from public statements. But that's just me.

Where y'at?

Happy Mardi Gras everyone. Hope y'all have an excellent day, full of good food and music. Wear a little purple, green or gold. Try and work a little dance step into your daily routine.


I really fell down on the job this year, and I don't have a lot of good visuals and music. I tried to find a digital version of James "Sugar Boy" Crawford's original recording of "Iko Iko" (originally known as "Jockamo".) It's a quintessential New Orleans song. Most people think it's much older than it really is--Crawford wrote it in 1954, and the Dixie Cups had a top 40 hit with it in 1965. You can listen to the Dixie Cups version here. I love the sound of it, especially when it was used to sinister effect in the movie The Skeleton Key.

This video features Dr. John, the Meters and Professor Longhair:



You can check out the Neville Brothers' version here. You can find some more ass-shakin' piano music video from Dr. John here (check out his boots!), and from Professor Longhair here.


Cook yourself something from The Creole and Cajun Recipe Page.


You can work on your faux New Orleans accent and vocabulary here: How ta tawk rite.

I've saved the best for last. Visit the New Orleans Area Habitat for Humanity website, and make a donation. Better still, try and head down there and do some volunteer work this spring or summer. The St. Bernard Recovery Project, having cleaned out and gutted over 2,000 homes, is preparing to rebuild.

Today is Murderous Clown Monday

This is my work week in a nutshell: dames, clowns, violence and glue-sniffing.

Nerves of steel

In my opinion this next video bears repeated viewing. Sure, it's enjoyable enough the first time: what's not to enjoy about watching a grown man terrified by a reptile? Click on the video, watch it, and then read down.



Wasn't that fun? Now, watch it again, but consider these points:

1) Watch his hands. This man is so paralyzed with fear that, even though he thinks he's being attacked by a flying lizard, he can't even effectively move his hands to fight it off. Watch them flutter hilariously.

2) Listen to his voice. His vocal chords choke up and he can't even get words out, just odd gacking sounds like he's hocking up a hairball. That is, until he lets out with "what the f*ck" as he goes down.

3) Watch how his legs lock up and he loses his balance, pitching sideways. Reminds me of those bits John Belushi used to do on SNL, the ones where he'd do a commentary on Weekend Update and become more and more hysterical, and eventually fall out of his chair.

It's a miracle he didn't pull that poor snake in half as he went over.

IT'S TIKI TIME

Snow...freezing cold...salt stained footwear...misery. It's TIKI TIME!

MizBubs and I can't take it any more. We need to get out and have couple a drinks. It's f*cking cold and awful, and we can't afford airfare to Las Vegas, New Orleans or Key West right now, so we gotta come up with a plan B. Nothing beats the winter blues and cabin fever like a few Mai Tai's, Zombies, Apu-Apu's or Suffering Bastards in the company of friends. Here's the deal:

MizBubs and I will be at the Tiki Terrace in Prospect Heights on Friday, February 23, from 6:30pm on. Here's the address:

1 S. Wolf Road, Prospect Heights

They have good drinks, and some live music starting around 7pm. And they got snacks! (awesome fresh taro chips) Come on, let's hang out for a while. We deserve it.

Hope we see a few of you there.

Ten Favorite Things

It's been a while since I got on one of these things. Lulu, Wonderturtle and Tenacious S have all composed some wonderful lists so far.

Here is mine:

Ten favorite things starting with the letter S:

The Sazerac. I've mentioned them before, and in my opinion it's a perfect cocktail:

• 2 oz rye whiskey (bourbon will do in an emergency)
• ½ oz bar syrup
• absinthe (you can use Absente or Herbsaint)
• 3 drops Peychaud's Bitters
• Twist of lemon peel

1. Put a few drops of absinthe in a rocks glass and swirl to coat the glass.
2. Mix the whiskey, syrup and bitters in a cocktail shaker over ice until chilled.
3. Pour into rocks glass over two ice cubes. Rub rim of glass with lemon peel.
4. Enjoy!

Sex: Well, duh. Seriously, I'm fascinated with it, all its complexity, joys and horrors. My love of all things sexy and sleazy is ironic, though, given that I'm also offended by the increasing pornification of our culture, and I'm fairly modest in my personal life.

Slot machine noise: That exciting, omnipresent noise inside every big casino. Every once in a while I'll hear something that reminds me of it—a cell phone ring, a video game—and I'll be instantly transported to that wonderful moment when you first walk into a casino.

Skillets. Big iron skillets. We have a nice collection of well-seasoned cast iron skillets, and I use them nearly every day. They feel great in your hand when you're cooking, and they have a great old look. Plus Wanda Jackson had a great song about beating her husband with one.

From My Big Iron Skillet:

There's gonna be some changes made
When you get home tonight
Cause I'm gonna to teach you wrong from right

With my big iron skillet in my hand
Gonna show you how a little woman
Can whip a great big man
If you live through the fight
We're gonna have when you get home
You'll wake up, and find yourself alone

Sweet tea: Summertime in the south. I can only drink it when the temperature goes over 90.

Sunshine: I've always liked being outside, and I dig that near-blinding sunbaked feeling you get in places like Las Vegas, or the combination of sunshine and water in places like the Florida keys. I seem to crave it more as I get older.

Swamps: Why am I so attracted to a landscape that, frankly, scares the shit out of me? Snakes and alligators. Fever, bourbon and decay. Mmmm... I've been in mangrove swamps in Florida, and Cypress swamps in Louisiana. I like the cypress swamps better.

Shotguns: BOOYAH! There is not much in this world more fun and satisfying than shooting a big-ass 12 gauge shotgun. I own two of them, a Remington 870 tactical shotgun (think Ving Rhames in the Dawn of the Dead remake) and an antique Winchester Model 12.

Splatter movies: The wetter, the better. I want so much gore and grue flying off the screen you feel like you need a raincoat.

Summertime: And the living is easy. Catfish, barbecue, sweet tea, drinking on the back porch. Sleepy dogs.

Random shmandom

Computers used to be so much easier. We just got a new computer, and for some reason half of the songs we had in iTunes didn't transfer over. So now, especially for some of the compilations I've gotten, I have to go back and search for each individual song and put it back in its proper directory. I hate bringing up a playlist only to have the music stop, and see that little exclamation point sitting there mocking me. I think my random ten choices are starting to mirror my increasingly fragmented and disjointed state:

Jack the Ripper—Link Wray

Green Door—The Cramps

Japanese Sandman—Martin Denny

She Blinded Me With Science—Thomas Dolby

Fed-a-Ray—Lord Beginner

Goin' To Chicago Blues—Peggy Lee

Blue Yodel No. 4—Bill Monroe

That's Showbiz—Rev. Horton Heat

Nightclubbing—Iggy Pop

I'm Not Talkin—The Yardbirds

Give the people what they want

And if the people (and by that I mean one solitary Australian Googler) want Sybil Danning, then by God I aim to give em some Sybil Danning.

Lovers of exploitation movies rejoice: Sybil Danning is about to return to the big screen after an absence of 18 years! This picture is from the trailer to "Werewolf Women of the SS." WWOTSS is a trailer directed by Rob Zombie that's going to be shown halfway through the new Quentin Tarantino/Robert Rodriguez movie Grindhouse. Man, am I excited!

Grindhouse is a tribute to all those sleazy exploitation wonders from the 70's and early 80's. Splatter films, slasher films, women-in-prison movies (hubba), torture films, Giallo, Jess Franco, cannibal movies...whew. Go to the official Grindhouse website and watch the trailer--all I can say is, any movie that features a hot amputee chick being outfitted with a prosthetic leg/machine gun is ok by me. You can see a nice collection of stills here at Bloody-Disgusting.

Hmmm...if Sybil Danning is back, maybe we'll see more of Mary Woronov.

I'll have the road omlette and a side of cow parts

It's 845 miles from Sheboygan, Wisconsin to Fairfax, Virginia, and evidently trucker news travels fast.

On February 11, an unknown trucker crashed his rig into a guard rail and spilled 165,000 eggs onto the highway. He high-tailed it outta there before the police showed up. Undoubtedly he'd heard, through the trucker grapevine, what happens when you spill a truck full of animal products onto the roadway, and then stick around to give the cops some lame-ass excuse.

Site Meter Tells All...

A paddler in Seattle wants to know about Old Town wood and canvas canoe

A mountain dweller in Denver, Colorado, seeks hippo tortoise 2007

A reader in Charlotte, North Carolina is still grieving the loss of New Orleans resident Addie Hall

Turks want moose attack videos

Some Brit from Swanley Junction seeks revolver sudden smashed spillane.

Another aspiring paddler from Cambridge, Massachussetts, wants information on 17' Old Town Charles River canoe restoration

Everyone wants to know about Armi and Danny.

Hoosiers have got to find Negro Modelo dealers in Indiana

And, finally, someone wants to see Sybil Danning nude. Jesus, buddy, who doesn't?

It's almost Valentine's Day--SWING, BABY

That's amore

Who cares if these 5,000 year old skeletons are in a lover's embrace or just tangled up? It's Valentine's Day, and anyway it's just cool to see skeletons hugging.

Now wouldn't it be funny if both those skeletons are the same sex?

Narcozoology: Birth of a new science!

Johnny Yen, in commenting on on an earlier post about Pipe-Hittin' Exotic Animals, wrote:

"You've firmly established the the crack-crazed fiend/reptile connection. Is this evidence of a methhead/exotic mammal connection?

Will Coatimundi possession be probable cause for a meth search?"

Excellent questions, Johnny. I propose to address those questions, and many more, through the application of a bold new science: Narcozoology. Narcozoology aims to study the relationship between drugs, dope fiends and the animals that surround them. Narcozoology builds on established theories and methods in sociology, psychology, the whole range of reptile sciences, years of paranormal research published in journals that mainstream so-called "academia" doesn't have the guts to publish, and mountains of anecdotal evidence gathered by workers in the field. Narcozoology, while based on these solid foundations, is also driven forward by liberal doses of coffee and bourbon-fueled intuitive leaps. It is, above all, a fearless science.

In order to help spread the word, I ask that from this point forward, any of you, when referring to me, add "founder of the fearless new science of narcozoology." Or words to that effect; I also wouldn't mind being referred to in print as the "world's leading narcozoologist."

Years from now, you'll be able to say you were there at the beginning. How cool is that?

No blog is an island

I am not (yet) a reclusive, booze-addled, gun-happy crank. I love socializing and talking, so I felt more than a little embarrassed that it took me this long to link to some of my favorite sites. Please accept my apology for not doing so sooner. I'm still figuring this out, and going through my bookmarks to find more stuff to link to. I imagine that within a week or two there will be quite a few more blogs up there, and a whole bunch more pop culture and political bullshit.

The snow's been shoveled two and a half times so far, and I'm sure there's more to come. I'm not beefing--you'd have to be a real whiner to complain about this snow after seeing what got dumped on NY state last week. I've been on the phone with work about a half dozen times today because some high-ranking clown is upset that I left my car parked in the department lot. We went to my niece's birthday party Saturday, and MizBubs suggested that she pick me up at work rather than wait for me to drive home and leave from there. I would've picked up the car sooner, but I didn't need it. Anyway, rather than just call me directly, bozo, undoubtedly cranked up by a couple of scheming cronies, spent the entire day pestering my friend who's working today and is the acting commander while our boss is on vacation. My friend, under orders, has had to call me every time and report back to bozo--yes, Joe is going to move his car, some time later today after his daughter gets home from school. Honest to God, if we spent half the effort on real police work that we do on peripheral chickenshit like cleaning the parking lot, or replacing the hat shields and bands on the uniform hats, there'd be no crime. I'll go in later tonight, after all the day shift hall monitors have gone home, and get my car. I want them to see it as they leave work and go home upset.

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, and I hope everyone has someone special to spend some time with. If you don't, I hope one's on the way.

I want to sign off on an up note, so here's a little Bettie Page, looking like she's wearing her Valentine's Day bustier and shoes. Dig that hep mid-century furniture in the background.

Pipe-hittin' exotic animals

While the alligator/crack cocaine nexus is a well-established fact in the field of narcozoology, and there appear to be multiple links between drug use and ownership of exotic pets, this author has not yet established a strong link between methamphetamine use and any specific animal. Until now.

Sheriff's Police in Riverside County, California, were startled by a coatimundi while searching a home for drugs. According to this story, 29 year old Norman James Vollan purchased the creature for $1,000 and brought it from Texas to Nevada, where he lived at the time. Eventually the duo rolled west and settled in Riverside County. After the search was completed, Vollan was charged with possession of methamphetamine and child pornography.

Forget the iconic cowboy, the rugged pioneer families, trappers and ranchers. This is the new American West: rootless perverted dope fiends and their freak pets shambling westward, waiting to meet The Man.

Mmmm...Valentine's Day...meat....

Are you ready for Valentine's Day?

This guy is.

Swanky fun with astrology

Why is it swanky? Because the guy's wearing a tux. And why is it fun? Well, the guy's got chicks doing some kind of interpretive dance in the background, and he's singing about astrological signs.

The fellow's name is Harvey Sid Fisher, and in addition to being the auteur behind these music videos, he also writes screenplays, is an actor, and is one of L.A.'s top ten million photographic models. You can find all twelve of his astrology songs, as well as some of his other work, here.

I was introduced to Mr. H.S. Fisher by Jen from Casual Slack and Princess Mombi's Friendatorium.

What amazes me is how he knew that I'd enjoy having a cowgirl cavorting in my theme song.

News from Wisconsin

A truckload of cow intestines and digital music technology don't mix.

Just ask Ryan Engle, 25, of Kenosha, Wisconsin. He flipped a semi truck filled with 76,000 pounds of "beef byproduct" when he tried to adjust his MP3 player.

According to this story, the Wisconsin Dells tourist attraction The Wonder Spot is about to be bulldozed to build a road.

And, finally, the West Salem Coulee News proclaims the Man Bat of Briggs Road to be the weirdest story of 2006.

Remarkably, there's not a single story involving necrophilia or sex with animal carcasses.

On, Wisconsin!

Canada is not Chicago

It may be cold, but Toronto is not Chicago.

I'm sitting here watching The Dresden Files with MizBubs for the first time, and I noticed that it's set in Chicago. But even before I saw all the pine trees in what was supposed to be "Jackson Park" I knew it was yet another "Chicago" feature shot in Toronto. How? Because the voice coming over the police radio sounded so f*cking Canadian, that's how. Trust me when I say it's a safe bet you'll never hear anyone connected with the Chicago Police Department saying "oot" or "aboot" instead of out or about.

Come on, Sci Fi channel. If you're going to shoot in Toronto, at least hire a few authentic Chicagoans to sprinkle the dialog with an occasional "over by", "bustout" or "jagoff."

This life's for me

Wham! Bam! my cat Splash
lies on my bed with his tongue puffed out
by drinking all my whisky.
As for me, not enough sleep, drained, persecuted,
I had to sleep in the gutter
where I had a flash
Oooo-ooo-ooo-ooo!
in four colours

Allez-oop! One morning
a darling came to my home,
a cellophane puppet with Chinese hair,
a plaster, a hangover,
drank my beer in a large rubber glass
Oooo-ooo-ooo-ooo!
like an Indian in his igloo

This life’s for me, this life’s for me
This life’s for me me me me me
This life’s for me
Oooo-ooo-ooo-ooo!
This life’s for me

Allez-oop! The chick**, what a gas!
what a vibration!
to be sent on the door mat
filed, ruined, drained, filled
You are the King of the divan!
she says to me in passing
Oooo-ooo-ooo-ooo!
I am the King of the divan

This life’s for me, this life’s for me
This life’s for me me me me me
This life’s for me
Oooo-ooo-ooo-ooo!
This life’s for me

Allez-oop! Don't mind, don't worry
Don't affect me
It’s not today
that the sky will fall on my head
and I'll come unstuck
Oooo-ooo-ooo-ooo!
This life’s for me

Allez-oop! my chick has gone away,
flew away, finally had enough, to break
the sink, the bar, leaving me alone
like a large jerk
Oooo-ooo-ooo-ooo!
I've put my foot in it

This life’s for me, this life’s for me
This life’s for me me me me me
This life’s for me
Oooo-ooo-ooo-ooo!
This life’s for me
This life’s for me, this life’s for me
This life’s for me me me me me

I need a party

Something with some strong booze, and some stimulating conversation. Well, the conversation should at least start out stimulating. How it ends up, I don't really care. This time last year we were planning a tiki poker night; this year we just can't get it together to throw a good party.

I'm thinking of organizing an outing to some local gin mill for an evening of hanging around, some place that isn't home. Drinking at home when it's -5 outside just seems insular and desperate.

I'm hungry

For some reason today I'm thinking about food. Specific food, like the pork loin I'm about to put in the crock pot for later tonight, and food that's not even here in front of me. Valentines Day has me thinking of chocolate, and the New Orleans Menu daily keeps other food items on my plate, so to speak. I've been tracking the reopening of restaurants in New Orleans since Katrina, and according to New Orleans Menu they're up to 746 restaurants open for business.

I'm trying to drop some weight to make running a marathon this year a little easier. So far I'm down about 5 pounds and it's going pretty well. If it weren't so damnably cold I'd be running 3 times a week and the weight would pretty much take care of itself. My cutoff for outdoor running is around 20 or 25 if it's not too windy, so for now all I can do is try and lay off the deep-fried hillbilly goodness, at least until it warms up outside.

I've put more effort into eating well, instead of thinking of it as restricting myself. I love food, and I'd rather have less of something I love, than more of some tasteless low-fat alternative. Give me one big slice of Vivace (roasted red pepper and artichoke heart) pizza from Marino's instead of three slices of some processed diet crap.

Anyway, for whatever reason, this morning I'm thinking about food.

Did you know that today is National Bagel and Lox Day? YEAH! Reminds me of a story:

So, a Martian is having some mechanical problems with his flying saucer, and has to make an emergency landing to check it out. When he lands, one of the wheels on his flying saucer breaks. The Martian fixes the engine, then looks around for a replacement wheel.

Fortunately, the Martian happens to have landed near a bagel shop. The bagels in the window are the same size as the wheels on his flying saucer. He goes inside and says to the proprietor "I would like to have one of those wheels."

The proprietor looks down at the Martian, and then over to the bagels, and says "wheels? Those aren't wheels, those are bagels." The Martian asks what they are for, and the proprietor explains that bagels are for eating. He gives one to the Martian and tells him to try it.

The Martian takes a bite. Then he chews for a while, looking thoughtful. Then he speaks:

"Hey, you know something? These would go great with lox!"

Here's the sad thing, though. Other than people who live in New York, or near a couple bakeries in Chicago, or close to a few other bagel bakeries scattered around the nation, most Americans have no idea what a real bagel is. That doughy product they sell at places like Panera, or Dunkin Donuts, or Great American Bagel, bears no resemblance to real bagels.

Speaking of chocolate, here's a story from Germany. I'd thought about saving it for another round of Germany or Florida, but then decided to use it now:

Candy with a surprise inside: Hey, that's not a crunchy nut center--that's a human finger!


I think I'll have a bagel instead.

Pregnant gambler hits bonus round

32 year old Nyree Thompson was 8 months pregnant and feeling a little antsy. Maybe she was worried about working out the details of her upcoming maternity leave, or daddy hadn't yet painted and finished the nursery like he'd promised. So Nyree did what lots of pregnant women looking to relax might do--she headed down to the comforting, smoke-filled embrace of the casino.

And proceeded, after an unknown amount of time at the slot machines, to give birth.

According to this story, Nyree delivered at 9:40 am. I'd like to think she's an early riser and had just arrived at the casino, but I couldn't find any articles that said exactly how long she'd been at it before the miracle of birth occurred. The birth was a first for the casino:

Steve Callender, the vice president of operations at Resorts Atlantic City, where the event took place, said that to his knowledge, this was the first casino floor birth in the establishment's history. He told an Atlantic City reporter that "We've had people (cripes! people, as in more than one?!) die here, but we've never had people born here." Callender has been on staff since the casino opened in 1978.

She named the baby Qualeem--I think that's the name of the good luck charm she was rubbing against the machine while repeatedly chanting "mama needs a new pair of shoes" at the time she went into labor.

Freezing cold and miserable random ten

Even though it's freezing cold and miserable here, there's great tunes to warm you up over at Dale's and Johnny Yen's.

Make It Rain—Tom Waits

Hittin’ the Bottle Stomp—Mississippi Jook Band

Doin’ My Time—Johnny Cash

What Keeps Mankind Alive—Tom Waits

She’s About a Mover—Sir Douglas Quintet

Rockin’ Bongos—Chaino

I Just Don’t Know What to do With Myself—Dusty Springfield

Blue Suede Shoes—Carl Perkins

The Black Angel’s Death Song—The Velvet Underground

Voodoo Dreams—Les Baxter

Porn and Pancakes

Oh, yeah, you heard me right. Porn and pancakes.

According to this story from the Associated Press:

"It's not your typical church breakfast. An event billed as "Porn and Pancakes" is being hosted by a church in rural upstate New York."

The event is billed as "an honest discussion about pornography and its impact on society." The article goes on to state that several churches have expressed a desire to host Porn and Pancakes events. P&P is sponsored by an outfit called Triple X Church, or simply X3. X3 is concerned about the pornification of our society, and they aim to help deliver us from its evil.

Now, I have to say I'm not happy with the pornification of American culture. Raising daughters with strong character and a positive body image is a challenge, no doubt. But to me, you do your job as a parent, and you love your kids, and you talk with them and treat them like human beings, and use those "Girls Gone Wild" commercials as teaching moments. You fill your children up with your values (which means, of course, you actually have to have some values of your own to start with, and you can't be shy about instilling them in your kids) and you don't allow society--especially popular youth culture--to be a greater influence than you are.

The thing is, I view pornification as being more a function of commercialism and exploitative capitalism than I view it as a symptom of sin, and I've raised my children accordingly. I have to wonder about folks who prescribe THE HEALING POWER OF JEEBUS as the cure for all ills.

X3 says that they minister to those in the porn industry, and its consumers. There's no doubt that there are plenty of damaged people there who need spiritual help. But I have my doubts about people who are so obsessed with one issue, especially one like pornography. I'm also suspicious of any group addressing some aspect of sexuality that is composed mainly of men. I mean, doesn't it seem at least possible that the real reason a bunch of 20 and 30-something guys want to "minister" to the porn-afflicted could be that they might, uh, want to hang out around hot-looking porn babes? Don't you wonder how many "strictly-for-research" porn collections these guys have? I still haven't decided if the vibe on the site is ironic or just creepy--they bill themselves as the "#1 Christian Porn Site", for instance, and the graphics are meant to resemble adult websites. You can buy a Jesus Loves Porn Stars tee shirt, which is really kind of rockin, except that I'd worry about where the money was going.

What really got me, though, was the Operation Save the Kittens. That's a reference to the "Every time you masturbate, God kills a kitten" picture that's floated around the internet for years. While X3 graciously reassures that they don't think God kills kittens ("you would have to talk to Bible scholars about that") they are strongly against masturbation: "start pleasing Him and stop pleasing yourself."

I wonder if they distribute saltpeter to their members, or if prayer is enough?

2006 Monsters of the Midway

Devin Hester and Thomas Jones were excused from this group photo after tonight's game.

It's Game Day

Bad music. Bad video. Horrible album covers.

Lulu recently posted a YouTube clip that purports to be the worst video ever. I won't dispute that claim. It was stunning, with its feathered hair and vaguely futuristic tunics and bizarre moments of Mickey-esque choreography. Lulu, I can't thank you enough for giving me something to do as I woke up this morning: I had to know more about this Armi & Danny--these two pop idols, half of an Abba, only more obscure and without a string of number one hits.

The woman was a hot Fin (in fact, she was Miss Finland 1977) named Armi Aavikko. Sadly, she died of pneumonia in 2002. There's a memorial gallery here; I wish there was a Google translator for Finnish-English.

The blonde dreamboat singing with her, Danny, is Ilkka Lipsanen. I'd like to have seen a cage match with him and David Hasselhoff back in the day. He was well known in the 60's for his Finnish language cover of Petulah Clark's "Downtown", "Kauan." You can visit his official website here. Apparently it took three Finnish hotties to replace Armi.

I digress.

For a while now I've been meaning to post some fantastic album art I found. Seeing the Armi & Danny video reminded me.

The first stop is the Museum of Bad Album Covers. Oh, boy, do they have the goods. There are currently 38 pages, divided into categories. I'll give you samples of a few of them (warning, some images NSFW)

Oh no, it's the Germans!

Metal mayhem

Ever wonder what happened to the lead singer for Dexy's Midnight Runners? Find out here, in the section titled "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

The God Squad

And, finally, Uncategorizable Awfulness

Another fun site is titled, aptly, The Worst Album Covers of All Time! It's an easy-to browse site, but maybe not as encyclopedic as the Museum of Bad Album Covers. Still, they've got some goodies there too.

Friday Random Ten. That's all.

Generation Why—Reverend Horton Heat

Autonomy—The Buzzcocks

California Uber Alles—The Dead Kennedys

Baby Please Don’t Go—The Amboy Dukes

Mass Production—Iggy Pop

World Keeps Turning—Tom Waits

Fever—Peggy Lee

Swing the Big Eyed Rabbit—The Cramps

That Old Black Magic—Louis Prima & Keely Smith

Miserlou—The Trashmen