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