I’m about to go to Lollapalooza for three whole days, so I think my new strip is appropriate (click for full size).
—In other news of note, I was right about Tommy Wisseau and the sneaking suspicion I had about his “legal council,” thanks to commenter Rebochan:
Just thought I’d let you know, “John” actually *is* Tommy Wiseau. He got outed in a Harper’s Bazaar article some time back and his little war with The Nostalgia Critic is getting this publicized.
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….
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!]
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!!!!
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!’”
Ladies, if you ever see this guy, get outta town. Unless it is of paramount importance for you to find someone’s wife, of course. If that’s the case, find out all you can about the husband and his entire family. Genealogy is creepy, man.
“Crack the identity of that woman. Look at the husbands dealings. Trace his entire family…Go now…”
My best buddy Joe and his wonderful wife Izumi live in Japan, and just had a cutie patootie baby boy who is about to inherit a whole bunch of comic books and Star Wars toys from his father. But to their infinite dismay, the number one diaper brand in Japan is this:
Hey! It’s “Goon” diapers, for your stupid Goon Baby. Just look at those ugly goon bastards, crawling around in their own Goon stew. Choose either small “Green” size for goonie-faced newborns or the Red “Danger! Danger!” size for fatty Goon babies who split their own diaper because they’re so goondamned fat.
Sure, you could buy the “Gimp” Brand diapers at the dollar store, but they’re not biodegradable and they come pre-shit in (as we’ve come to expect from the “Everything’s A Yen” store).
How about some truth in advertising, Japan? When you buy Goon Diapers, you’re really buying this, now aren’t you?…
Shown: the true face of Goon Brand diapers
And guess what else? Only Goon diapers have the power to give a newborn baby a mind-shattering orgasm right there on the hardwood floor. Oh, is that comment over the line? Ok, fine. Then you tell me what the hell is going on at the end of this commercial. Because I’ve watched it about 50 times, and I still don’t know why unleashing a meteor shower of Vitamin E pellets on a kid’s ass causes it to succumb to the throes of mad passion.
That’s pretty uncomfortable. Waaaaaaay more so than a baby riding around in a Michelin tire on the highway, or being dangled over a balcony. Still, maybe none of this is as disturbing as the ass wiping cartoon frog we have here in America. This round to you, Dumpster Baby Goons!
Not sure if you watched Headline News this morning, but they’ve put all the trees in a tree museum, and are charging the people a dollar and a half to see ‘em. I don’t know about you, but in this economy that’s a hell of a bargain! Finally, something cheap to do, you know? And here’s some more depressing things to kick off your week. Hope your Monday sucks! FEH!
Love of House (Not the Hugh Laurie fan-fiction site)
You know today’s November 16th, right? And you haven’t bought anything for your kids for Christmas yet? Well, better luck next year because “Love Of House” is all that’s left on the shelves. Ironically, “Love of House” was deemed too grammar impaired for even Toys R’ Us to carry. At any rate, have fun explaining to your kids that “Mini Lordliness” is really what they wanted, not a PlayStation 3. This all reminds me of that Bootleg B-52’s song “Love Of House Shack” that this toy set inspired
Shown: Asian Fred Schneider sings the hits. He added, “The Love of House is a Mini old place where Lordliness am getting together. Love of House, baby, yeah.” [saaaad trom-booonnnneee!]
This stern warning accompanies a thrift store window we used to frequent (we frequented the window, not the store).
“Ok,” we “will” put “all” our “clothes” on “hangers!” Jesus “Christ” don’t have a “shit fit” about it and “scare off” your “fucking” customers! NO EXCEPTIONS! [sad "trombone"!]
Did I ever tell you about the time I sprinkled 8 bags of cocaine on a personal pan pizza and ate it in under 10 seconds? Wouldn’t you know, THIS is the first and last thing I remember seeing? A cross between Super Mario and that kid from The Grudge? [pants-pissing trombone!]
I pulled over from the highway just to take this picture. I hope you’re happy. If Subway restaurants hadn’t been ruined for you before with their slimy, lukewarm deli meat, disgustingly kemp countertops and prep areas and irritating jingles…consider this your wake up call. I’m a Quiznos man now. [sad trombone!]
What if God were one of us? Just a mumbling, ghetto-fabulous, do-nothing slob like one of us? “JC in Tha Hood” is the kind of movie that appears like a star of wonder, star of bright in the video store. How can you not immediately grab this off the shelf, and be healed by its power?
Saafir…Caffeine…Shorty Mack…Eastwood. Don’t look for any Da Vinci Code meaning to these seemingly random words on the DVD cover: these are the film’s actors. Caffeine (you know, like the drank!), Eastwood (not Clint ), Shorty Mack (in the flesh!)…they’re all here like a Holy Trinity with a +1 on the guest list!
We rented this and Left Behind last weekend (naturally). Needless to say, after watching JC In Tha Hood, we had not a second to devote to Kirk Cameron’s end-of-the-world shenanigans. They suddenly seemed silly next to JC’s keepin’ it real message.
Saafir plays a character named “Jesus,” and he at least has the “one name” thing in common. Everything else…not so much. Picture if Humpty Hump from Digital Underground and Jesus got bizzee in a Burger King bathroom. You’d get JC in Tha Hood.
His voice is, like, transcendent. Just the way he says Lucifer as “Loocifer” floors me. I can’t get enough of it. When he says “Wha happen, Loocifer?”, it’s like a crappy Song of Solomon on mine ear. “My Fah-thuh, who arts in hea-vun” is another favorite. The movie even seems to ask the audience “what if Jesus was BLACK?” I know, I know…this question was resolved by Yahoo! an entire YEAR AGO!
Not convinced of the godsend that is JC in Tha Hood? Watch these jaw-dropping clips from the movie (for sale here), which I’m officially propping up as the Christian version of The Room! Seriously, you have to see the entire movie. This montage doesn’t do it justice.
(note: while JC in Tha Hood has the trappings of a Christian film—and while I doubt that capital-g God cares which mortals are saying words like “motherfucker” down here on Earth, in English or otherwise—this movie is full of language, sexual violence and homeless funk that would make the Pope weep. It’s definitely Too Hot for the Fireproof Crowd. I left out the, ahem, sexual romance for this montage.)
Additional things you’ll get to see when (and I say WHEN) you watch this movie:
- A long speech between Satan (in a cherry red Brooks Brothers suit) and Jesus about a battle for souls, FOLLOWED by scenes of Satan getting people to do awful things to themselves. And what’s the titular Jesus do this whole time? HE WALKS AROUND LA HOLDING A BIBLE IN THE AIR. There is not ONE scene between Jesus and anyone in this movie who needs his immediate help. It’s maddening. The whole time my friends kept screaming “Jesus, DO something already!”
-A green-screen heaven. No, not the LucasArts ranch. An actual green-screen heaven.
-A whore-killing pimp who has a full-size posters of The Mummy, The Matrix, and one prominently displayed Paul Hogan/Elijah Wood Flipper Poster in his apartment. And it appears to be SIGNED!
-A slideshow from director Dale Stelly (which just makes me want to say “Stale Deli!” when I read it) featuring the crew slamming Colt 45s. Works every time! Also, the gangbanger’s car says “STELLY” on the license plate, which kind of takes me out of the film. Which is where I wanted to be, actually. So, in that case…thank you!
-A drawn out final scene on a staircase, where a reformed gang member preaches the gospel and thanks his members for letting him preach in the house “while the church is being worked on.” Uh-huh. The church is under construction. So we couldn’t film there. Eli eli lama sabachthani?* ["My God, My God, why have you forsaken my Location Scout?"]
-At least 3 different takes of the “Hey Old Man, wanna buy some DRUUUGGS?” guy. [note: those guys are totally the same age, but he insists on calling him "gramps" and "old man" in every version of the 3 stories! GAHH!!! Also, this guy would make a GREAT team with whistle-enthusiast Bubb Rubb.]
Woo-WOOO! WANT SOME DRUGS, OLD TIMER? WOOOOOO!!!!! THA DRUGZ GOES WOO-WOOOO!!!
And by the time the whole film ends with someone screaming “GLORY!” into a microphone—WHO?!?! Someone TELL ME WHO!!!—followed by an inexplicable tribute to those who lived through 9/11…well, it’s stranger than any apocalyptic future Johnny Cash sang about.
Time to put on your funtime cap for the chance to win a box full of wonderful things from me by playing (altogether now…) WHO…IS…THIS….FOR!![thunderous studio applause]
Why? Because I have free video games and other crap laying around that PR companies have sent me, and Growing Pains trading cards I’ve accumulated…so who knows what you might win! Don’t you like getting stuff in the mail? Don’t you like playing games? Mail order is fun.
First, watch the video below to understand how this simple process works:
Ladies, Gentlemen…WHO IS THIS FOR?
…It’s both the easiest and the most difficult question you’re likely to encounter today. Who is this Tongue Kissing lighter for? Someone had to come up with this product, so who do you think they had in mind? Who said, “I’ve got the perfect butane lighter! It’s a rubbernecked woman jamming her tongue into a dead-behind-the-eyes N’Sync cast-off! And [BLANK] will buy tons of these!” So, just fill in the blank for me.
For example, is this for:
- the Horny Smoker On The Go?
- a man who loves giving gifts, but hates his family?
- the deaf surfer from VH1’s “Sex Rehab with Dr. Drew”?
- Children?
Give me your best responses below, enter as much as you’d like, and I’ll be showering my favorite entry with prizes…GOOD LUCK, GUMSHOES!
