Godspeed, Frog Brother #1. I guess this finally answers The Thrills’ enduring question. Truly, Haim turned never closing your mouth into an art. Here’s some clips of a video I wish I’d bought last week. Not surprisingly, it’s about $100 on eBay now. Vultures.
…And my favorite all-time Corey Haim scene, in which Corey fends off a group of rollerblading thugs with a handful of fruit and a flame-throwing Super Soaker: all from Nicole Eggert’s shopping cart.
Coach Tucker and Carolyn loved to travel, and always sent me postcards from locales around the country during the summer. They kind of kept us accountable to keep running when we really wanted to be sleeping in late and trying to score beer…these postcards let us know he was thinking of the upcoming season, and we should be too. This one’s from Dallas. Reading RHT’s handwriting was an art in itself…but after a few years, you picked up on it. It was like a secret language only our team could read. It says “Thanks for helping at the fair.” We got to sit in the heat together and park cars for the Rushville Demo derby, to raise money for the track. It was one of the longest, dryest, hottest days ever. It really sucked, actually. But he and I got to talk about movies for hours on end. He loved movies, especially Sci-Fi, nerdy stuff like Star Wars and Dune. We definitely had that in common. He was the first to tell me they were making new Star Wars movies, and I was actually excited at the time. He had recently went to see “Striptease” with Demi Moore, which was controversial at the time, and I thought this was hilarious in itself. I don’t think I was old enough to see an R movie in 1996. He said the movie wasn’t any good, but Demi Moore had “bazongas the size of basketballs for some reason” and then eyes got really big and he puffed his cheeks out. We laughed about that all afternoon. The end of the card says “Be careful of heat, use belt at pool. Jog with Stear, Dustin and Caleb. —Coach rht” He had bought a special belt used for training runners in a pool. It was a very odd device, and we rarely used it because we were shiftless and lazy and couldn’t be bothered. We couldn’t even figure it out how to use it for a few weeks. I think we did cannonballs with it on. Coach always wrote his initials in three lowercase letters like that. Kind of humble, in a way. That was his trademark.
I was going through old clippings and photos, thinking back about Coach Tucker. I’m working on a longer piece, but I’d just like to share some bits and pieces for now.
Welcome to part 2 of World of Ward Crap’s 13 WEEK series on filming junior dance competitions. Read about last week’s travesty adventure HERE.
Having survived a trip to the heart of Amish darkness last week, Bryan and I once again mounted our mini-van and headed to another dance competition in Nashville, TN—this one was at the Grand Ole Opry (or “The Grand AOL Opry” as my text messaging spell check kept insisting, giving me a possible glimpse into the not-so-distant future). To catch you up to speed, here’s what I’m involved in:
Terrifying, right? It’s weird how things work out. I first met Dan Raleigh (aka, Fred Price) when I worked for Wizard Magazine…my friend Junkstore Jesse Thompson and I picked his hilarious video Supercycle USSR as Wizard’s “Direct to Video” contest winner. We flew him out to Chicago to collect his prize, and Dan and I immediately learned we shared the same love for things like the Beastmaster and stuffing large plants into hotel elevators. Now, years later, he’s kind of my boss. Check out his winning Wizard video. I should mention that Josh Powers (seen below) is also my boss, which is AWESOME. Do you have a cooler boss than this? I don’t know, has your boss ever stolen a Russian super bike? There’s something else familiar about these two videos…listen closely.
Yep, after you hear the narrator from Supercycle, it’s hard to take the dance commercial seriously ever again. Hooray, Easter Eggs!
Now, on to Nashville…..Click through to hear about the Dukes of Hazzard museum bathroom incident, which country music stars are dicks, and why Tupac and milk go together so well…
Here’s the thing about being an astonishingly talented and sexy writer: it doesn’t pay the bills. And I don’t mean phone bills and electric bills. Oh, heavens no. Those are extravagant fruits I’ve not yet tasted. I’m talking McDonald’s Dollar Menu Bills (I’m running a tab, they know I’m good for it). So occasionally, I take on jobs that: A) payz the billz and B.) providez an endlezz stream of new storiez to tell U guyz LOL. For the next 13 weeks or so, I will be traveling around the country filming Youth Dance Competitions for companies with names like Bravo! and Nexstar! and Headliners! In short: I’ll be videotaping little girls every weekend for money.
Left: What I’m filming every weekend. Right: “I was just doing my job.”
We rolled into Lancaster, PA last week right in the heart of Amish Country. And that night, there was a funny video going around the YouTube about our sudden situation. Except it’s not so funny when you’re sitting in a hotel in Pennsylvania, buried under one of the worst snowstorms in US history.
So besides being stuck in a town with hundreds of dancing children, it got stranger. In fact, everything in this town seemed…very not right. And that’s before I saw an Amish family going down the road, smiling from ear to ear, bundled up and holding a giant keyboard they’d just bought from Target. The town next to Lancaster is called “Intercourse,” for one. Imagine my disappointment after Bryan and I followed the sign for “INTERCOURSE: 10 MILES.”
“Intercourse: Lancaster County is about Families Doing Things Together.”
Then the hits just kept on coming…no pun intended. Was Pennsylvania founded by 13 year old boys?
And, of course, to get to Intercourse you have to first drive through Blue Ball (traffic is really backed up there. Just painful). From there you can get to Paradise, and eventually Fertility.
This is all very unfortunate. Probably as unfortunate as the town’s main liquor store being literally right next door to its rehab center. “Lord grant me the serenity to…aww, fuck it. Jager bombs are calling my name!”
THIS WEEK’S STOP: NASHVILLE, TN…where I’ll be staying with Junkstore Jesse! Stay tuned….
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!
