Ok, I’m kind of phoning into today’s entry. It’s funny cat videos. But since you’ve already seen the other awful things I’ve trained my cat to do, or made them watch me do, here’s the requisite origin story.
My wife’s Valentine gift to me was that she was secretly training our cat to ring a bell. I don’t think I can ever top this. Here’s how that went down. Or, rather, here’s how it all came up. On my kitchen floor.
So all this Cricket attention has made Champion, our first born cat, jealous. He’s acting out. He can’t ring a bell. He can’t do shit. And he’s trying way too hard to earn our love back.
“Hey guys, I’m an elephant! You seein’ this?”
“Hey guys, LOOK! I’m a rooster! The Cock of the Walk!”
“Hey! HEY! Over here! I’m Young David Bowie!”
“SEE? SEE!?? YOU CAN PILE SHIT ON ME TOO! LIKE THIS!
PLEASE GOD ANYTHING JUST PAY ATTENTION TO ME AGAIN.”
Sigh. It’s just so sad to watch all this play out. So who wants a free, non-bell ringing cat? We’re getting rid of him.
Kidding! Kidding. But seriously. He better be shooting bottle rockets out of his ass in a year’s time or it’s back to the streets.
You all know DJ Daymage. Not only does he make amazing mixes and provide soundtracks to bachelorette party videos, but he comes through on some pretty amazing birthday gifts. A few years back, he gave me this priceless item:
But, still, I had so many questions. This little guy was willing to hold whose bag, exactly? My bag? Gareb Shamus’ bag? The long-awaited answer came this year, with yet another piece to add to my collection of tragically misspelled art, including the famed Finger Pupies. Behold:
Shown: The unfortunately named “Male Bag.”
My cat, Champion, wants no part of this. Even without his balls, he knows the difference between “mail” and “male.”
But my other cat, Cricket, is another story altogether. Cricket looovves to play with my Male Bag. She gets a treat every time she plays with the ding dong on my Male Bag. She used to get a treat for just touching or rubbing up against my Male Bag, but I started running out of food quick. Observe! Maybe you’ll learn something:
Note: This is a long entry. Just man up and take the ride. There’s a contest at the very end to win a book called “What’s My Pee Telling Me?” from Chronicle Books and South Park Season 13 on Blu-Ray from Comedy Central.
First things first: My headline is probably misleading, because there are two definitions of “tryst.”
1. An agreement, as between lovers, to meet at a certain time and place.
2. A meeting or meeting place that has been agreed on.
Clearly, I would never intend to meet Gareb Shamus as a lover (though I totally might, have you seen him lately? We’ll get to that) But definition “#2″ deals with our agreed meeting place. Which, in this case, would be something called FaceBook.
Shown: (Left to right) Photoshop fantasy of Gareb Shamus of Wizard Entertainment, Uwe Boll, and Me. Getting ready to be unstoppable street toughs.
For those who don’t know, I used to work for Wizard Entertainment. It’s where I got my start, and I met a lot of good people there. A few of whom are still there, who I haven’t talked to in a while. But most everyone else, including the guy who helped start the magazine in a big way, got fired. Even the entire message board community got fired. And I kinda, sorta got myself banned later on for some jokes I made about the company. An ex-company head told me off the record that if “the company would spend more time actually running things instead of focusing on petty shit, maybe they wouldn’t be totally fucked right now.” I’m paraphrasing a bit, but the phrases “petty shit” and “totally fucked” are actual quotes. Pretty much everyone landed on their feet at bigger, better jobs.
Pretty much.
Actually, to be totally honest, I’ve secretly always thought of Gareb as more than just friends and co-workers lowly employee writer and company CEO. My wife and I have a “Gareb” clause in our marriage, wherein, should I get the opportunity, I can have passionate relations with my ex-Boss/Owner of the entire Wizard Universe. As to not be one-sided, she has a “Rita Rudner Clause” on her end (What a body and what a talent, even after all these years!)
I guess I got a little nervous because I became re-acquainted with Gareb Shamus at practically the same time as Tom Welling AND Rich Johnston of Bleeding and Dying in Gutters, (this is a popular UK comic-book gossip page–like, “who is Batman dating?” stuff–for all the non-comic book fans who are reading this). So, I wished Gareb a Happy Easter. I know, I know…he’s Jewish. I realize that NOW. And I’m not sure what they celebrate in the UK. All I know is that they eat “Eggy In A Basket, Chip Chip Cheerio” and all that happy horseshit. I’m an American, I don’t need to know about that.
So, overall, I choked on this one, alright? Opening comment jitters. After all, Gareb wanted to be my friend. He asked me. In spite of everything mean I said about him, too. Well that was all in the past now as far as I was concerned. I mean, Frank Miller ripped up a copy of Wizard Magazine onstage, and Miller has been a Guest of Honor at Wizard World since then. All I ever did was make jokes and help sell his magazine.
Straight up business question. Letting him know he can just get in touch with me whenev’. I think she’s getting a Bill Finger award this go ’round, don’t want to miss it.
Letting Brent Spiner know where to reach me….
SO THEN I get pretty excited because I see this video on Gareb’s Page, and it prompts several questions from me about In Dance We Trust coming to Wizard World, all which are almost answered in the video (watch about 20 seconds of it, if you’re able to). Just priming the pump, getting people excited about the comic book convention where the In Dance We Trust girls will be appearing.
Pretty straightforward questions, I think you’ll agree. Important ones, too. I don’t want to toot my own hose but I’m a reporter, you know.
But then something goes horribly wrong between Gareb and I. CLICK THROUGH to find out how Gareb responds to my sexual advances which I just couldn’t contain anymore.
I’m 29 today. God. What a terrible number. What a terrible, un-round number. 30 I’d be fine with. Good round number, 30. Here’s some videos to reflect how I feel today. Some old, some new…whatever makes me laugh today to get me through this Clogging Dance Competition in North Carolina. Best present so far? A hacker kid at the even showed me how to tether my Droid to my laptop, leeching internet from my phone and…well, it’s all real technical and involves “proxies” and “climbing telephone poles” and what have you. So here’s some videos of birthday shit, and also two men pouring beer over each other.
How to Wish me a proper birthday:
How to Terrify your Child with “Bimbo the Birthday Clown”:
How to Take Advantage of your Local News’ Stations Inane, Chuckle-Headed Birthday Announcements
How to Wish me a Fucked Up German Birthday:
How to Really Celebrate a Birthday, The Chris Ward Way:
How to Create an effective and pleasing birthday:
Creating a MORE Effective Birthday for Your Corporate, Animatroic Loving Clients:
Creating a More Effective Dick-Head, Failed Talk Show Birthday:
And, finally, How to Force David Bowie Into an Awkward Birthday Greeting on Your Foreign TV Spot:
Yep, you’re not alone….this is pretty much how I remember it to.
I never thought I’d see the day when Tales of the Gold Monkey arrived on DVD (or “The Gold Monkey,” as the original promo advertised, confusing the audience and leaving too much room for interpretation. Were these “Brief Anecdotes of the Gold Monkey”? “Third-Hand Information About The Gold Monkey”? No. Clearly, these were Tales, and the later title better reflected that.)
I think I’d rather watch more videos from Know More Monkeys (AKA, the coolest kids ever) in which they beat a snowman’s head in with a skateboard. Though I’m pretty sure there are already DVDs out there called “Snowman Domination,” if only in Japan.
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:
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!!]
Imagine ALEJANDRO JODOROWSKY being put in charge of the art department for Hollywood’s next batch of tent pole summer films, and you’ve dipped your toes in the waters of madness that make up these nightmarish film posters from Ghana. Yeah, I’m pretty much buying this unassuming book from Amazon, like, immediately.
In the 1980s video cassette technology made it possible for “mobile
cinema” operators in Ghana to travel from town to town and village to
village creating temporary cinemas…
In order to promote
these showings, artists were hired to paint large posters of the films… The artists were given the
artistic freedom to paint the posters as they desired – often adding
elements that weren’t in the actual films, or without even having seen
the movies…
The artistic freedom that these artists were
given allowed for the creation of some very interesting and sometimes
bizarre posters that, as screenwriter Walter Hill wrote, were quite
often “more interesting than the films.”
Here are a few favorites from the site:
I’m guessing the Marmaduke movie in development ain’t gonna look anything like this. Which is a shame, cause that’s the only way in hell I’m going to see it. But it’s good to see Brian Warner getting work
You remember the theme song for this movie: “Charles in Charge/Up on Days/And Protecting John Connor.” Sure, it wasn’t very catchy, but neither was the alternate title for this Ghana version: “Scott Baio is 45 and Has a Penis Pistol and Rosy Red Nipples.”
This showcases a famous scene from Ghana’s “Poltergiest 2: The Giest is Loose.” I speak, of course, of the finale when a bottle of soda orgasms a blood-drooling demon that craps chainsaws which, in turn, rain down on Craig T. Nelson’s waiting sedan. Then Demon Verne Troyer looks on in delight as Baby Snow White fondles her dollie’s breasts. Splendid piece of cinema. Splen-DID.
This was sort of a catch all poster for Where the Wild Things Are, Twilight: New Moon and Old Dogs (the naked dwarf being Seth Green, and the horned monster being a gorilla rocking him to death. Great comedy: the universal language!)
Dear Ghana House Party poster painter guy: You nailed it, brother. Take a bow. Drop that makeshift paintbrush and let some other fool finish the C.H.U.D. mock-up. You’ve more than earned your weight in goat meat today.
I can conclude that “the spy” refers to the man with the burned off face and “me” refers to the shrieking harpy growing out of his ass. But what I can’t figure out is why this movie isn’t called “I’M ALTERNATELY TERRIFIED OF THE SPY WHO LOOKS LIKE PETER LORRE AND THE FISH WITH THE HAPHAZARDLY CIRCUMCISED TAIL FIN.”
Patrick Swayze, Kelly Lynch and Sam Elliott look better than ever! Now THIS is a poster the screams “blockbuster” the world over! Genius, GENIUS piece of promotional art.
…Ok, ok…I drew this. But If someone could please pass it along to the guy in Ghana hiring people to paint American movies on canvas flour sacks, I’d be forever in your debt. I hear that economy’s booming!
I don’t actually have the time to post…it’s late. Just got home. I just got back from the CAT CIRCUS.
I just watched a cat and a chicken have a bell ringing contest. I watched a bunny drive a red car. I watched a black cat knock some shit over and send other cats running into the crowd. And then we all sang Silent Night as some cat pounded on a drumset. In short, it was awesome. Got a really amazing interview with the wonderful cat women (sexy and single cat women, I might add) involved and I’ll be sharing with you soon where it will appear. Until then, here’s my cat music video again. It pretty much sums up how I feel.
SHOWN: “Hey, it’s your cousin Morris…MORRIS THE CAT….listen, you know that new sound you’ve been looking for? LISTEN TO THIS!!!! [MEOOWEROERERRR....]“
I don’t know what you’re doing Monday the 21st and, truly, it doesn’t matter. Because I’m going to the Cat Circus. And any interest I might have shown in “what you’re up” to is purely an act, for my every thought turns to the Acro-Cats: the “Cirque du Soleil” of Feline Circus Acts.
That’s how they describe it.
I would settle for the Flea Brothers Missouri Cats of Squaller Revue. I really wouldn’t care. It’s a cat circus. Heavens, I don’t know what to wear!
Did I mention there will be an appearance by the ROCK-CATS??! I’ve already forgotten about that Pixies show I went to. I thought the Rock Cats was a pretty lame name, after the litany of cat puns on the Circus Cats website (”up close and purr-sonal tour…” “purr-sonality.” Basically, purr puns), until I realized it’s a play on The Rockettes. Come on, Acro-Cats try a little harder. You’ve got a cat on an electric guitar, and while that isn’t as impressive as THIS, it’s worthy of a better name than “Rock Cats.” I mean, off the top of my head I can think of, like, five mediocre ones. “Cat the Wet Sprocket.” “Meow-thew Sweet.” “Digable Planets (and cats)” “Catman Crothers.” “Catthole Surfers.” And that’s mostly just the nineties names!
I mean, LOOK at this shit! YES I WILL BE PAYING MONEY TO SEE THIS, DON’T ASK ME AGAIN!
All this Cat Circus hullaballoo reminded me of one of my all-time favorite interview “gets.” I was just starting out as a writer at the Western Courier, at Western Illinois University. I think this article about the original Jingle Cats (named, ahem, “Welcome to the Jingle”) really shows its age (ignoring the Making the Band reference), but I still remember how excited I was to get this as a giant cover story in our Entertainment Section, complete with a giant cat head on the cover. I think it’s about time for a follow-up interview with Cheeseball. But it’s still a pretty good story. Get this drama:
“Spalla admits that growing up in Los Angeles, he was always sort of a cat person, but while living in a Beverly Hills apartment, a fateful encounter would eventually lead to the Jingle Cats we know today.
“I found (Cheese Puff). Somebody had locked him in a basement and put poison food in there. And I heard meowing through the air-conditioning system, and I went down there and the door was locked,” he said.
“We broke the lock off and we rescued Cheese Puff. He was real small and he had a giant head because he hadn’t had any food. There was, like, cottage cheese that had poison in it and he wouldn’t eat it.”
Luckily for Cheese Puff, Spalla took him in and even started taking the new pet to his job at a sound effects studio, where he was then recording a version of Jingle Bells.”
And because that cat was saved, I can now welcome you to the stuff of Christmas nightmares…from my Krampus-filled heart to yours….The original Jingle Cats.
I had almost convinced myself I could do this too. But my cat Cricket Sanjaya Ward is fat, and lacks the motivation of her father! If she would only TRY a little harder and APPLY HER DAMN SELF we could be rich she could live out her dreams of SINGING! GOD! THE HENDERSON’S CAT CAN SING, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?!?
SHOWN: The untold riches denied me and my own pets
