Ironically, the fact that my wife would see this card and buy it without hesitation is one of the reasons I married her. This card has the kind of non-committal sentiment that says “let’s make this weirder than it already is”
Being somewhat of a talented Greeting Card designer, I decided to do a little Freelance work for Carlton Cards in Cleveland, OH to expand this fantastic line:
You may have noticed lately that this site hasn’t made good on its “daily humor” promise. Well, I have debts no honest man could pay and had to lay low for a while. But now that the border patrol’s trail has gone cold, I’ll show you some of the awful crap I encountered fleeing God’s Country over the weekend. It’s good to be back and not rotting in a Canadian jail again. Hope your Monday Tuesday sucks! BLERRGH!
You know what they call a “cheeseburger” in Minnesota? A Juicy Lucy. It’s a hollow hamburger filled with deadly molten cheese and IT’S DELICIOUS. The problem is, I saw this sign in Wisconsin…
…And their Juicy Lucys are a little different, apparently. If it’s three things people love in Wisconsin, it’s cheese, Tommy Bartlett’s Robot World, and eating a gas station cheeseburger after a good piss. Mmm…juicy! [SAD TROMBONE!]
And, while we’re at it, there’s nothing I’d rather drink after changing a little boy’s diaper than warm, acidic Land O Lakes orange juice. Come to think of it, there’s no phrase I’d rather see than “Grip N’ Go Milk” as I’m wiping down a baby’s frank and beans. So, if I’m reading this right, we’ve got milk, milk, Orange-ade, and down below where the fudge is made. Some poetic soul at a Baraboo, Wisconsin Quick Stop must be very pleased with himself. [GRIPPY TROMBONE!]
And speaking of things I wouldn’t put down my throat (Cock Soup notwithstanding), there’s this drink from my local coffee shop: The Ball Dropper. Actually, this drink is pretty damn good. And before I was even halfway done, I sounded like Barry White. When I was completely done, I had crossed into Tay Zonday territory. Thank you, Ball Dropper! I am victorious over nature. [DEEEEEEP RIIVVVERRRRR TROMBONNNNEEE!]
In keeping with the food theme: here’s one meal of a man, Tom Selleck. But why isn’t his $9.99 action move “Night Passage” selling? Is it because it’s got a pink border, and joins movies like Legally Blonde and the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants in the “Girls Night” series of DVDs? Because I can’t imagine a better idea than getting all the girls together, popping open some Jack Daniel’s Raspberry Coolers, and throwing in the ol’ Jesse Stone: Night Passage (the prequel to “Stone Cold,” where Selleck “relocates to a small town only to find himself immersed in one murder mystery after the other.”) But the only way you can find Tom Selleck’s Girls Night Out-approved action fest is to swing by Office Max, where this display resides. Let’s say I enter “Girls Night Out DVD” in my GPS. And lets say my GPS then directs me to an office supply store, and to a romantic comedy DVD kiosk within that store, and then to a pink-bordered, made for TV Tom Selleck cop movie. It is at this point that I light my GPS on fire, collect the insurance money and sue Google Maps for gross and malicious incompetence. [SELLECK TROMBONNNNE!]
In anticipation of my upcoming animation column, “Celling Out,” at UGO.com, I present this classic Worst Cartoons Ever post. Also, it’s late and I work in the morning.
If there were a way to replay the noise Super President’s doughy sidekick makes right before Steel Man punches him in the face, over and over on an endless loop, I think I would be the happiest person alive. It’s kind of like “HOO GEET!” or “HOON GLEEK!” I’m sure his voice directions were great:
Director: Ok Jerry, in this scene, Steel Man—who is clearly not a man by any stretch—walks into the “impenetrable base.” He does this by walking through the open door. Then, he punches you in the jaw, not killing you instantly. You need to make a noise that captures this.
Voice Actor: How about, Hoon Geet?
Director: Hmm…”Hoon Geet.” I like it, but maybe give me something in a “Hool Jeet.” Oh, hell, you’re the actor: Hoon Geet it is.
Voice Actor: Then what should I say?
Director: Oh nothing. Then we have this scene where the unstoppable Steel Man—who could snap a man like a Baked Lays with his bare hands and is immune to bullets—well, he’s gonna get scared off by a dinging bell, after going to all the trouble of breaking into the place.
I would like to add, upon watching this again, that though NO SECURITY SYSTEM ON EARTH is a match for this robot, Super President sends his powerless sidekick “Jerry” into the fray and is all, “Ehh, call me if you see the killer robot. And remember, he’s got super powers.” Jerry’s just staring at his walkie talkie and pissing his pants.
By the way, if you think the phrase “You were wrong, Sales,” is just bad grammar on the robot’s part, you probably need to watch this post first.
The late night wars are hard for even a lot of Americans to understand. Though, in fairness, most Americans haven’t learned that Ed Hardy pants look ridiculous, and Lady Gaga is an elborate hoax by a Japanese game show. So I can’t fault the Chinese for resorting to turning Conan into the Hulk, Leno into Superman, and Jeff Zucker into…I’m not sure Captain Bald or something….just to explain it. You can see the not-as-funny English version HERE, where you’ll hear that…yes…even the “didn’t get the memo” cliche has made its way into Chinese news, taking its spot alongside those hilarious “human rights violations” cliches. This clip is courtesy of America’s foremost animation expert, Jerry Beck, from his awesome Cartoon Brew website:
And speaking of crappy animation, I guess it’s a good time to announce that I’ve been pegged as the new Animation Guy over at UGO.com! Thanks to my time over at Worst Cartoons Ever, I’ll have a weekly column discussing everything cartoon related. I think the column is tentatively called “Celling Out,” which is a pun on animation cels and the lengths I’ll go to in order to make a buck (Sean T. Collins originally penned this one, I believe. I put out a call-out for catchy names amongst friends. UGO didn’t go for my suggestion…”Acme Sweatshop”…or my friend Ryan’s suggestion, “Cock Garage.” But I’m still holding out hope for “Cock Garage.”)
Also, you’ll probably see classic Chris Ward edits like this as I go:
Translation: Hands off the Masturbating Bear, scum!
I’m no stranger to gospel music, techno mash-ups or inappropriatereligiousiconography…so perhaps that’s why this perfect storm of videos (brought to my attention by Bryan Sandlegs Morrelli) is something I will never, ever, ever stop enjoying. Just try not to Get The Ghost when you watch these. Like, every time I see them I want to go out of my mind. I want to fly a cross shaped jet at supersonic speed. I want to cut someone’s head off with communion wafer ninja stars. I want blood to spray out of a Virgin Mary statue’s eyes like a fire hose and knock everyone over in the first 3 rows. I want to LIVE, dammit! LIVE!!!!
I’ve been off the radar lately because of a boatload of things in my lap that, sadly, aren’t lap dances. But I would hate to deprive you the chance to have your Monday ruined by coming to my website. Ruining things is what I do. Hope your Monday sucks! BLEAHH!
So was it a coincidence that Conan was canceled after my comic book appeared on his show, or yet another conspiracy against our nation’sChrisWards? The Chris Ward curse continues, unchallenged! [SAD TROMBONE!]
And speaking of Conan, why does he insist on going by the name “Mrs. Stewart” and tricking me into think Liquid Bluing makes clothes white? [Sad Trombone!!!!]
I took this at the airport. Either security is lax enough where someone can hack in and dick around with the LED sign behind the flight gate, or someone in charge of airplanes thought this was a funny/good idea to put up on their sign. Either way, I feel incredibly safe, thank you for asking! [Ladies and Gentlemen, if you'll turn your attention out the righthand window you'll see we've reached our SAD TROMBOOOOOOOOOONE! destination]
Did you know at Apple stores, there are little Apple viewing areas where you can cram in and sit and watch Apple commercials on an Apple Genius iScreen iTheater on an endless loop? Doesn’t that sound like fun? Doesn’t this seem like, oh I don’t know…. THE MOST IRONIC SHIT EVER?!?!?[SAD TROMBONE!!!]
Hey lady, what did you THINK only 10 skee ball tickets was going to get you? Try a little harder next time. [Photo courtesy the estate of Charles Edward Cheese][SAD ANIMATRONIC TROMBONE!!]
You all know Junkstore Jesse Thompson from his hilarious Maxim.com articles and the famous Berserker beer can scene he introduced me to. Well, we drugged our spouses, threw them in a mini-van and had a rock and roll time in St. Louis this year for Junkstore’s birthday/New Years Eve. Here are the pictures! I know it’s not the same as Sad Trombone Monday (I know I’ve missed two in a row now…things have been too crazy) so please accept this pictorial as a kind of Happy Slide Whistle Monday instead. I don’t know if this tops last year’s “Electro Shocked Face Muscles Party” at Junkstore’s pad, but it was close. Which reminds me…hey! This site’s been up for about a year! What a complete waste of your time! Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?
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There was a secret hipster roller skating rave, and Jesse and I used this opportunity to show Lil’ Bow Wow how Roll Bouncing is actually done.
What’s a New Years Eve party without a quick stop at bad guy Ben Gazzara’s basement from Road House? This is the cousin of the bear that fell on Tinker. Actually, this is from the Cheshire Lodge in St. Louis. You know this hotel from Up In The Air with George Clooney. I know it from the housekeeper asking me if I’d seen “The Bearded Man” that haunts the fourth floor. I wasn’t aware Billy Mays had moved on to poltergeisting so quickly. Classy joint. Very posh. Very haunted by Billy Mays.
“When There’s No More Room Left in Hell, Zombies Will Roller Skate Around the Earth.”
CLICK THROUGH FOR MORE, INCLUDING SECRET CAVES AND SHIT!
Ok, so yesterday I touched on Handicapable Gospel Singers. But there are also a multitude of able bodied fire-and-brimstone preachers who shouldn’t have been allowed near a recording studio, Dictaphone, homemade tin can and string, or otherwise. Here’s a few I found while digging through records at Vintage Vinyl in St. Louis and, again, from this site.
What in Hell do I want? Well, for starters, not to be cheerfully flipping through records and suddenly getting yelled at like I was selling cell phone upgrade plans door to door. The back of the album says “If you think about it for just one moment this is one of the most logical questions you will ever be asked.” Hey kids, the next time your parents ask “What in hell do you want?”, tell them that’s one of the most logical things you’ve ever been asked. Then enjoy your brisk, merciless beating with a JC Penny’s fake leather belt.
“What if Mary Would Have Had An Abortion?” Wow. That’s gotta be the worst Marvel “What If?” issue in the series, right above “What If Wolverine Drank and Drove the Blackbird through a Children’s Hospital?” I guess the answer would be, “she’d look like someone ate the last Little Debbie’s Stars & Stripes Snack Cake, just like Rev. Johnny Williams here.” Actually, he looks just like when Louis Gossett Jr. wants Sean Astin to PICK UP THAT GODDAMNED BANANA in “Toy Soldiers.”
“Hi! Am I a bigot? Well, I don’t see any other bigots on this album cover so you must be addressing me. Also, where’s Jesus? He was supposed to be here 15 minutes ago. I can’t wait to meet him, I wore my bright yellow background and everything.”
Record Company: “What’s your album called?”
Rev. Clay Evans: “‘Too Many Babies in The Church.’ You know, people who are babies spiritually, but also actual babies, whom I hate. I mean, leave your kids at home Sunday Morning, you know?”
Record Company: “So for the album cover, you’re thinking…”
Rev. Clay Evans: “Me riding a big camel through the desert.”
Record Company: “Oh good, good…I’m glad we’re all on the same page here.”
Hmm…this was in the Gospel Section, but I think Rev. “Cheeks” is a Reverend the same way Sgt. Pepper served bravely in the British Army.
“Lord, Seriously…I have osteoporosis. Lubricate my bones. And maybe add some cod liver oil to my diet, and grant in me the ability to decipher double entendres as they relate to ‘bone lubrication’ jokes hurled in my direction.”
I, umm…..I’ve got nothing. Except maybe “it’s my world, and it’s not a place I have to hide in/
Life’s not worth a damn ’til you can say ‘Hey world, I ammm what I am-mmmm!’”
You know, it says Jesus did an awful lot of healing “the lame” in the bible. And I don’t mean Lady Gaga fans, I’m talking about the handicapable. But that fact doesn’t seem to bother these gospel singers who are maimed, mauled and scarred beyond belief but still sing his praises.
Now, lest you think I’m cruel, we have a family friend who is a blind pastor. But here’s the thing: he was born with one eye, and the other was poked out in a basketball game by an ornery 10-year old when he was in junior high. How’s that for rotten luck? You think I’d be kneeling at the old rugged cross if I was dealt that hand? Much less cutting gospel records?!? I’d be drinking alone in the dark and cursing to myself, mixing a Downward Spiral follow-up on my Fisher Price tape player.
That’s my best guess, as I’ve never known real adversity and would be a total puss in the face of any physical challenge that doesn’t involve me retrieving a bright orange flag from a vat of baked beans.
So, I guess I can’t tell if these albums are inspirational, exploitative or terrifying…and I don’t know if it makes me a prick for posting them….but they are kind of awesome. Enjoy the misery.
Yes, it truly is a miracle to tickle the ivories when you have nothing to tickle them with. There’s a guy in my hometown, a lawyer, who comes into a diner every single day and eats breakfast with no hands. He uses utensils like a pro. That’s impressive. I’ve seen a guy with no arms and no legs roll and light a cigarette. Amazing. So equating this woman’s hard earned adaptation to a “miracle” is a bit of a stretch, and actually kind of condescending to her when you think about it—as if she had nothing to do with the work that went into learning the organ with no freaking hands. Like, if it were really a miracle, wouldn’t Jesus give her new digits? Otherwise that’s just a half-assed miracle, and God don’t make junk, as my t-shirt once said.
…Also, would “The Handless Organist” be her given Christian name, or is this a nickname she earned later? The record gives no indication. [This one, and a few others, come from Ester Goldberg's blog. Her true treasure lies in heaven for uploading these.]
Illinois: my state invented the corn dog, the ferris wheel, and the Raul Julia of singing midgets. Like The Handless Organist, The Singing Midget apparently doesn’t have a name—first, last, middle or otherwise. It was also an affront to the tens of other Singing Midgets in Illinois, and spawned the landmark copyright case “Singing Midget v. Billy Barty’s Half-Pint Jug Band.” In the case of the album’s name, “Colorful” is obviously an old-timey way to say “Ghastly” and “Evil in God’s Eyes” while seeming fun and innocent. But the Singing Midget knows better, and when these three aren’t suspecting it he’s going to leap out of that bass cello and gnaw their crusading faces off. Then we’ll see who’s “colorful.”
What Handicapped Gospel Album article would be complete without Little Richard Miller, he who is without arms and legs? I wrote extensively about his life story in comic book form HERE, but still think it bears repeating that this dude is the Conan O’ Brian of armless, legless gospel singers. His follow up album—”Jesus, Use Me, Just Not For A Doorstop This Time”—was poorly received, and the tour bus was cut in half and sold to the Singing Midget. Also worth repeating: this album has tracks like “In the Shelter of His Arms.” You don’t see the Handless Organist doing “He’s Got The Whole World In His Hands,” you know. That’s sick. Also sick? The dude was double-promoted twice in high school. What’s that even mean?
I call bullshit—these dudes ain’t blind. Look at ‘em yuck it up, knowingly. I call bullshit. The fact is, you could get PRET-TY far as a blind act in 1939 and the money was just rollin in and…what’s that? They’re STILL TOURING 60 YEARS LATER? Man, that’s a long time to keep up the blind shtick. Especially after that dust-up with another band calling themselves “The Blind Boys of Alabama,” forcing them to add “Original” to their name…and then Gallagher’s brother was calling himself “The Blind Boy From Alabama” and…the whole thing just got ugly.
They finally had a hit not too long ago and…well, this video kind of makes me goosebumpy. Plus, “their rendition of Tom Waits’ ‘Way Down in the Hole’ was used as the theme song of the HBO series The Wire in its first season” according to Wikipedia. Pretty good for some fake blind fellows. Don’t believe me? Listen to the subtext of the song: “Was Blind But Now I See.” I’m not asking for “Paul is Dead, Paul is Dead…” but c’mon! Hide your ruse a little better!:
Maybe they should have called this album “Lord, It Is By Faith in Our Calculations Alone That This Trio is a Five-Piece.” These guys did a bunch of albums in their day and don’t sound half bad, but it’s unclear who did what. I think the tall guy sings, and the guy in the wheelchair is like the Professor Xavier of gospel music—I only say that because he’s surrounded by mutants.
And THAT brings us to this little album I bought not but 2 days ago: Merrill Womach’s “Happy Again.” So, basically, Merrill Womach is like a burned face version of Mickey Rourke, with a little Tom Waits sprinkled in.
According to the album, the guy was horribly burned after surviving a horrible plane explosion. And, praise be to Jesus, they even show you on the album’s inner fold!
Hey, now that’s something I wanted to see. You could have just told me “it looked as if someone had taken a marshmallow and left it in the fire too long,” and I would have believed you, Mr. Womach. But, no we get to see it. We get to see it all. He even does a song called “Here Comes the Son,” because actually doing “Here Comes the Sun,” (or “Hot, Hot, Hot,” or “Fire Down Below” for that matter) would just be in poor taste. And thank the maker, we get to HEAR him thanks to the magic of the internet. You’ll be surprised to learn his vocal chords are completely melted, he sounds like a dehydrated donkey braying out praises. Just kidding, he sounds like this:
“He has promised to dry every tear in my eye…”
Yep. That’s fucked up.
Maybe Merrill and this guy can get together and do a world tour. I mean, I’d pay to see that. If one blown up dude is an inspiration, two would be like an inspiration explosion!
When the producer of Snakes on a Plane asks if you’re a god, you say YES.
It’s with the greatest of pants-tightening enthusiasm I can officially announce that, in addition to this site, I’ll be a regular poster at GEEK WEEK, which officially launched yesterday! I know, I know…you’re used to seeing me write for Fan Belt Quarterly and Fish Hook Enthusiast Digest, so it’s kind of a stretch for me.
I was approached several years ago by Mr. Jeff Katz—producer of Snakes On A Plane, X-Men Origins: Wolverine, and Shoot ‘Em Up—about a web venture he was working on, and after years of hard work, research and sweat that I had absolutely no part in, the Six Apart team (they designed the Huffington Post) have finally launched this beast. I’d like to think I have a pretty good bullshit detector (working for Wizard Magazine will help you fine tune that sixth sense), and Katz seems to be a guy who’s been on the level with me and knows how to spit game, knows what he wants and how to get it—as anyone who saw his San Diego ComicCon panel can attest.
I’m thrilled to be on board. I like this guy, I like his big ideas, I like his fire and vinegar, I like how he treats creators, and I like that he’s from the Midwest. He’s that perfect storm of Actual Geek and Daft Businessman that could pull this off. And he’s got a little bit of The Joker running through his veins, which is the kind of personality I tend to roll with. And, most of all, I like that my good friend/superb writer Gary Hodges is involved, as well as the only editor I’ve ever worked with who has his face printed on a goddamned thong.
Here’s a great article about Katz in Variety, as one of the 10 Producers to Watch.Personally, I thought Wolverine was a great movie right up until Wolverine stays in that barn, and the farmer forbids him from sticking his penis in any of the three holes. That’s not in the comic book (well, maybe one of Chris Claremont’s later titles).
And, say, here he is on Attack of the Show talking about his new comics brand:
Ok, so up until now it seems like I’m kissing a lot of ass. And while I’m not above that, I am sincere about what I’ve said thus far. So let’s play the Devil’s Advocate: there are tons of “Geek-Centric” websites out there. Maybe too many. Hell, MC Chris said it (I think)…geeks are kind of like the new jocks. And we’re constantly being marketed too, with words like niche-marketing and pre-awareness being bandied about, terms that raise everyone’s BS Terror Alert to “Reddish Orange.” And G4 is…well, G4 is what it is. True blue geeks still think of G4 as a corporate wolf in L33T speak clothing, with no real reason not to. We all know the score, dummies. Olivia Munn can only strut around in that White Queen get-up so many times: baby, I’m bored. My dick is not a rat, and you are not the pied piper. So what’s next?
In the words of Tom Atkins, “Thrill me.”
In the past year, I’ve seen that sites like Topless Robot ,Panels on Pages and the Robot 6 blog (just to mention just a few) can be wonderful models to look up to. After years of working for publications that scream “THE 10 GEEK THINGS YOU GOTTA OWN!” and “BEST COMIC BOOK RACKS! WE TALKIN’ BOUT BOOBS!” (fool’s posturing, basically), these sites are down to earth, candid, transparent, respectful of their audience and—when they’re at their best—there’s some refreshing humility there.
And visitors of those sites know that smart writing and good company brings a smart, fun community along with it. While this post has been a hopeful, forward-looking rah-rah-rah for the industry so far, I’m not naive. I want to make some money doing this—doing what I love to do. It’s all I’m really qualified to do except drive women wild, and I’ve already kissed all the pretty girls.
So, I hope you’ll stop by and comment often, and let me know how I’m doing. A crowd draws a crowd, so please support me and I swear I’ll try to do better at leaving comments at my friend’s websites. I’ve been scattershot at that lately. We do this in a vacuum and any comments are good comments. That’s why I leave up all the hate comments—nothing gets me hawt like the occasional person yelling at me or telling me I suck. I feed off your energy, anonymous, ball-less flame poster. I love you. Let’s have a discussion. Thank you sir, may I have another.
Really: why so serious?
Oh yeah, and I’m occasionally going to use Geek Week posts here at this site. Hey, I’m not stupid. Why work harder? That said, I can now edit videos at my house instead of driving across town, so expect a lot more men in banana hammocks and Ghetto Jesus posts in the near future. Plus, I’m working on two secret projects you’re really, really going to enjoy…
Let’s have a good decade for a change. Happy New Year.
