Welcome back to Sad Trombone Monday: an accumulation of asinine apparati that angers the assemblage. Hope your Monday SUCKS! BLEAHHHH!
Either I’ve suddenly become retarded beyond medical definition, or I’m actually seeing this. This company makes the bold claim that “white” is a color. And, now that I think about it, that’s what I’ve been saying for YEARS! White IS a color, and the color White deserves as much rights as, say, the color Orange or Purple. So I don’t understand why every time I take my “White Rights!” sign outside this supermarket, the cops show up and put a baton up my ass. I suppose my struggle for White Rights continues! [SAD TROMBONE!!!]
I ran into this record in Tennessee, and kind of regret not buying it. I have a party coming up, and if there’s a Tunnel Banger out there, it’s Uncle Bud’s Hospital Experience. The wacky font really sets the tone for the 60+ minutes of this Dr. John Harvey Kellogg looking ma’fucka’s in-depth essay about his excruciating hospital stay. I, for one, can’t wait to hear that old colostomy bag chestnut [SAD PEE TROMBONE!]
If there’s one guy we know who will stand up for the family farmer, it’s Richie Farmer, KY Dept. of Ag Commissioner. [SAD TROMBONE!]
Guess which item is misspelled? On one hand, hogs don’t have wings. But Illinois is really good at finding a way to make greasy, terrible fucking food where none exists. Even if that mean inbreeding hogs with seagulls, murdering them, battering them, and creating an unholy appetizer known as “Hog Wings.” Also, Lemonade is misspelled. Thanks for playing. And thanks for stopping by Leatherface’s Corn Dog Shack. [SAD FAT TROMBONE!]
“Next stop, Infinite Suffering! Please stand clear of the closing axes please…next stop, Eternal Hell.” I really should have opened that Puzzle Box before I got on the Metra. (Courtesy of Sad Tromboner Alex Kropniak!)
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’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!
I don’t have a strong reaction to Brittany Murphy’s death, except that its unfortunate for those who actually knew her, like her immediate family. I don’t even know if her name has one or two ‘Ts’ in it. It is not my place to act personally sad. That would be awful of me to do.
The last time I thought about her was actually yesterday at the video store when I was in the New Releases, and I was really noticing her on a lot of direct-to-video cover art. And I briefly thought, “She was really big at one point, and now she’s in all this crap, how does that happen?” and started thinking vaguely about actors and their career arcs, and how some actors fall out of favor for no reason, or because of bad management, or whatever. And how it was mean of SNL to do a bit on her last week, because she’s not even in the public spotlight, so the whole thing was weird and awkwardly cruel.
And I thought about Jon Heder, and Brittany Murphy, and Jason Biggs and some other people as I walked around the video store daydreaming, wondering why I was in a video store at all since I have a Netflix account, going through the motions, bored on my day off. And then I got a pizza. And that’s pretty much it.
But what really jumps out at me is a sudden onset of Rorschach-level hatred for all of humanity when I make the mistake of going somewhere like Twitter on the day a celebrity dies. You see stuff like this:
Hey, that’s cool. Ninja terrorists have feelings for actresses who were barely on their radar half a minute ago. Thanks for sharing you, and the hundreds like you.
*sigh*. Goddammit. Really? Die in a fire. I guess this is to be expected though. Doesn’t make it any less depressing.
If you are one of these people who say “unexpected celebrity death” and act shocked and affected, please accept my invitation to eat a three handfuls of staples and shit office supplies. You are a moron. Chalk one up for you. Deaths are either expected or unexpected…celebrity doesn’t enter into it. And, since 99.9% of people don’t actually know this celebrity personally, you can bet it’s unexpected to you personally you mouth-breathing troglodyte. Besides, who wakes up thinking “I wouldn’t be surprised if a celebrity died today! Nope, this is the perfect day for that! And, hey, what do you know…one DID!” Idiot.
Also, when it seems like a lot of “celebrities” are dying, try to remember that A.) a celebrity dies every single day in the world and B.) Everyone is famous now and every moment of every thing is on Twitter…
This is the most depressing headline I’ve ever read. Read it again. This is the scene in Back to the Future II when Marty McFly comes to the future and Ronald Reagan’s hologram head serves him a fucking Pepsi.
You’re living it.
You are a stranger in the most unfavorable, awful, vapid, dystopian future you can imagine. It’s really happening. Except you don’t have a flying time machine to go back to normal. You’re fucking stuck here and the world is staring down at you and reminding you every single day that “HOVERBOARDS DON’T GO ON WATER.” Didn’t you know that, dumbshit? That’s what I think when I’m on the internet sometimes: I’m the only one who keeps trying to make a hoverboard go on water, and even the little kid with the pink Mattel board knows better. I’m never going to get it. I’m old and getting older. It’s too late for me.
You wake up and realize you’re not Marty McFly–a cool, mistunderstood transplant from another era–but you’re actually old Biff Tannen, sad and alone and talking to yourself about some Sports Almanac and fated to have manure dumped on you every 5-10 years. There’s no going back.
So read this headline outloud. Keep reading it. Fight the urge to drink a pint of Drano afterwards…
And then you get to this: Ashton Kutcher’s “Death Tweet.”
When I die, if the people closest to me write little 140 character 0BiTuaRIE$ and say “2day we lost xxChrisxx Ward to the Freek Gatorz Accident” and SHARE them with the world, I will drag Brittany Murphy’s soul up with me from hell, and together we will wage unholy war on Earth with fucking burning fire and suffering and gnashing of teeth you can’t possibly imagine. If you needed another reason to root for the Earth to heat up and kill us all, this is it. “See you on the other side kid.” You flippant twits.
You bunch of flippant twits.
Sad. Trombone.
Shown: Last known photo of Ms. Murphy from Perez Hilton. What a guy. He adds “Lindsay Lohan and Courtney Love take note: that could have been YOU!” Well, I’m just glad it’s not you, Perez.
Welcome to the “I’m tired” edition of Sad Trombone Monday. Old Man Peterson’s got me doubling back into a swing shift, and if that sumbitch thinks I’m moving the palettes that MARY left in the warehouse bay, then he can kiss my ass. So, once again, here’s Monday’s collection of random, depressing observations. Hope your Monday sucks, bleah!
I don’t have any control over what Facebook spam ads pop up on my page, but all I want for Christmas is an option button that lets me click “disable tit-feeding father ads.” Are you a breast-feeding dad? Here’s 10K towards education! Welcome to Obama’s America….am I right, everyone!?!?? [Sad Trombone!]
Depressing: Appearing on Love Connection. More Depressing: Lying about your age on Love Connection. Most Depressing: Your name is So-So, and you’re painfully average looking.[Sad Chuck Woolery Trombone!]
Oh godDAMMIT! Angelina’s hiding the twins?!?! ARGHH! I guess I’ll have to resort to sexy old screenshots from Foxfire and Gia. Wait, they’re talking about the babies? Oh, I don’t care about those. Poor choice of headlines for the normally classy Life & Style. [Sad Tromboner!]
“Dear Eyeglasses Shop bathroom on South Grand: your sign is not working! Thank You!” [Sad Trombone!]
I liked how this asshole even stacked the smaller rolls on top of each other. Nothing thrills me more than petty, passive aggressive wars like this being waged inside retail jobs all over our great nation. Well played, TP guy.
“How will Jesus Come.” The question for the ages. During Red Shoe Diaries? In a Doubletree Inn honeymoon suite? In a truck stop shower stall? With a pinky finger up his…actually, forget it. I’m not touching this one. I want to live to see Christmas. Oh, not because I’m afraid of getting struck by Jesus lightning. Because I’m afraid of Glenn Beck’s people.
If we were at a Texas Roadhouse Chain Eatery right now, you would hear the faint sound of forced employee clapping make its way from the kitchen right to our table, followed by a cowboy hat and saddle for this website to sit upon and pose for pictures. And then a 17 year old kid with a looming Ford Mustang payment would say “Hey pawdners, today marks this website’s 100th post!” and they would woop and holler and everyone would try very hard not to look up from their Chicken Ding Dillers and Texas Tonyun Boomin’ Possum Blossoms. And what a good time we’ve all had in the process. Thanks for stopping by. And now, as always, I hope your Monday sucks! PSHHHTTT!!!
This is what we got from my wife’s aunt one year for Christmas. It’s lingerie. For a Christmas tree. They say it’s the thought that counts, and her thoughts turned to buying us naughty, mini-undies to hang on our Christmas tree.
Ahem.
So I guess these are official Hallmark keepsakes for the family that likes to put the “Sex” back in Chrisexmas. [Sad trombone!]
On the plus side, her aunt got me my all time favorite ornament, the Pac-Man Arcade Keepsake, the next year…which Cobra Commander enjoys playing in his Hallmark Keepsake Boxers from the previous year.
“High SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSScore!”
Hey!Now here’s a holiday tradition you won’t want to miss: pictures with Santa Claus. And how could you miss it, with all those hours he’ll be appearing? Oh, what’s that, little boy? You’re here to see “African-American Santa” instead? Well Black Santa’s appearing one day only, for two hours.And I hear he’s not even really African-American…I hear he’s African-CANADIAN! [Sad Trombo-ho-ho-hone!]
Also please address Santa as “Santa”—or Regular Santa—and not Caucasian Santa. And make sure that when you lie to your kids about Santa, you’re also lying about the correct race of the Santa. If your white kid thinks a Black Santa screwed him out of a present, you’re just just stirring up racial resentment at an early age. Best to tell your white kids that Santa is white, and black kids that Santa is black. It’s easier that way. Separate, but equal Santas, you know?
“But what about Chinese Santa?”
Don’t be goddamned ridiculous kid. There is no Chinese Santa. Just pick a line—Black Santa or White Santa. But, between you and me, it’s best to pick White Santa (he’s here more often).
Still, on the positive side, no waiting line for Black Santa! Why? Because there’s a bearded black man yelling “HO! HO! HO!” in the center of the mall and a white lady freaked out and called security. Once they get all that ironed out, I’m sure you can sit on his lap.
Isn’t holiday diversity a wonderful thing?
…And after a hard day of deciding what race the Santa you worship is, why not bring the family in for a warm Pooboy Sandwich? Mmm, Mmm! Just like momma used to pinch right into a hot oven. Nothing says Christmas like a moist, juicy, steaming Pooboy Sandwich. [Poo Trombone!!!]
Check out this holiday special from the Best Buy Geek Squad! For only $19.99, the Geek Squad will drive to your house in their awful car and install the latest firmware updates to your PS3! Hey, that’s terrific. Because when the PS3 tells me “Latest Firmware Update Required” (roughly every fucking time I turn on the PS3), it’s too much trouble for me to hit the “X” button to Accept. I love how helpful the Geek Squad is. Like how they’re willing to sell me a $200 Monster HDMI cable, or “set-up” the picture on my Plasma TV by adjusting the contrast and brightness, or push the “power button” on my remote with their able thumbs. I am useless without them! Here, just take all my money! I’m a complete moron! Of course, the price of this highly necessary service varies from place to place. $20 is a steal! [HI-DEF TROMBONNNNE!]
…Why hey, it looks like Slate.com is running a related story on Best Buy scams. This one’s about the Geek Squad “optimizing” your new Mac (read: turning the power button on). That I can agree with but…hey, Slate, I hate Jon and Kate as much as the next American who built up their celebrity status in the first place. But maybe tell your underpaid web-designer to ease up on the violent imagery in his subliminal banner scroll. Merry Christmas! BLAM! [Sad Trombone Plus 8!]
Today is “Cyber Monday,” hot on the heels of “Black Friday” and a prelude to “Lime Green Dell Laptop Buyer’s Remorse Wednesday” and “Take Another Man’s Life to Get Your Hands on a Hamster Toy Piece of Shit Thursday.”
Like you, I avoided the “Big Box” stores altogether last week (I get all my Christmas gifts from Debbie’s heavily trafficked Build Your Toys From Trash website anyway) and hit a few of my own secret spots. Close your eyes and try to imagine opening these gifts on Christmas morning, and then divide that feeling by the number of Kleenex you’ll need to wipe away your tears, and you’ll have a formula for a Celexa-popping Xmas morning, Charlie Brown. As always, hope your Monday SUCKS! BLEAH!
This was sent to me by my friend Kim last year, but I just now got the courage to open an email called “Bag O’ Baby.” This actually brings back funny memories. Last year, I asked my wife for a Bag O’ Baby for Christmas, and imagine the look on her face when she showed up with a Glad Lock bag full of dismembered infant parts and I had to explain that I meant romper cotton onesies! I showed her this picture, and we all had a good laugh (well, except for the baby) and then sold the still-wriggling, pungent remains to The Beatles. But for some reason, this album didn’t make the Beatles Box Set. [SAD RINGO TROMBONE!]
Shown: “HA HA HA HA HA! Everything we do is genius!”
I don’t care if it’s marked down to $2.99…I will not open a box marked “Puppy Surprise.” Not after the Finger Pupies incident, anyway. [SAD TROMBONE!]
2008 Mattel Executive: “Ok, everyone…we’ve just produced 500,000 of, what I believe, will be the hot girl’s toy this year. The IM-ME! It updates the concept of “passing notes” for a new, tech-savvy generation of girls! You see, girls want two things: 1.) Things that are pink. It’s pretty much the only color girls like. 2.)High-tech gossip gizmos. The “IM-Me” takes the chat room…to the CLASS ROOM! Judy, write that down. “From the chat room…to the class room!” just like that, with the dots and the exclamation point. Of course, this may be hard to hide in the classroom, cause it’s big. Also, it beeps loudly. I’ve invested all my money–and I mean all my money–in this thing, I believe in it so strongly. You’re all getting bonuses!”
2009 Mattel Executive: [on phone] “How’s the IM-Me selling? What’s that? Cell phones, you say? Excuse me for one second.” [hangs jacket on chair, leaps out of 3rd story window. Only breaks legs. Dies, quite avoidably, from pulmonary embolism, as a result of DVT Blood Clot, when nurse simply forgets to administer routine Lovenox shot upon his release from hospital. Guilt-ridden nurse kills self.]
There. I hope you’re thoroughly depressed. If not, here’s the actual product description from the website:
It sounds 2good2btru – but it’s 4real! Girls, you no longer have to wait for your turn on the computer, because with IM-Me™ you can stay connected with family and friends from anywhere in the house! IM-Me™ for kids is private, convenient, portable and safe.
Even cooler, you can build your own community of
IM-Me™ friends. Once you’ve exchanged user names,
you’ll be able to instant message your buddies anytime, anywhere. What r u waiting 4? Start IMing now!
Now are you depressed? Good. I’m glad. [SAAAADDDD TROM-BONNNNE!]
The mouse you’re using right now may have more germs than a White Castle toilet seat French Fry. Actually, knowing you, it definitely has more. That’s why I can’t figure out why this mouse wasn’t a big hit. Was it because there’s an entire segment of the population who would NOT LIKE TO HOLD A COMPUTER MOUSE DIRECTLY UNDER A RUNNING FAUCET? Apologies to Howie Mandel, who owns 6. [WACKY SAD TROMBONE!]
Shown: Get it? He hates germs!
Let’s say you’re looking for ideas for your son’s Christmas gift. Your son is 15, and doesn’t really talk to you much anymore. He’s going through that “surfing the net in a locked basement” phase of development. You know how kids are. Well, if he won’t talk to you, there’s nothing wrong with checking out his web history to see what he’s been into these days. Hmm, it seems from 8PM until 3AM every night, he’s “curious” about “farm animals”! Thank god, because there is a Curiosity Kit to help him explore these curiosities! You’re a good mother. Your son is going to love this. [SAD TROMBONE!]
…Oh, and your son is also going to love this Christmas card with his Farm Animal Curiosity Fulfillment Kit. I guess what I mean to say is, even if you run a small time greeting card company, and your budget is lacking in this economy, do find an artist who has enough sense of field and depth of vision to avoid painting scenes where North American Brown Bears appear to discreetly fuck White Tail in front of the baby Jesus. I mean, come on…it’s Christmas. [SAD TROMBONE!]
