This is an Amway propaganda tape I picked up about the dangers of common, every day tap water. She’s just watching out for her children’s interests, at the end of the day. Good for her.

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:

CONTEST UPDATE: Shockingly, the SOUTH PARK SEASON 13 Blu-Ray and WHAT’S MY PEE TELLING ME? book are still unclaimed. Read about how easily you can win them here.

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.

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.

(more…)

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.

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!’”

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.

From Epherma Assemblyman:

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!

[Thanks to Jesse Thompson for the tip!]

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…”

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!]

The comics world was abuzz (so abuzz, they were afraid to comment!) upon seeing Watchmen creator Alan Moore’s psychedelic rock band in action, as I first witnessed with terrified eyes over at Topless Robot. This is a big deal for two reasons. 1.) The snake worshipping Moore rarely plays his breed of Showbiz Pizza Place-inspired rock in public, and 2.) It’s the first time in years he’s played with long-time bandmate Kenny Fisher from the film Can’t Hardly Wait

Did someone order a Love Burger…WELL DONE?

After I watched the video, I realized this was all very familiar. I emailed a friend of mine, and—YES—he sent me the only existing footage of Alan Moore’s first performance with The Retro Spankees singing “You Cannot Fart Around With Love” from 1969. I knew we had this laying around! But the real point I’m getting at is this: I’m sick today and don’t feel like doing anything, and by watching this video you will then feel exactly like I feel.

See? I wasn’t joking. Do you feel like doing anything now but taking a good, long shit? Of course you don’t. This video is an audiovisual stool softener.

Shown: Iron & Wine robs the clearance aisle of Kay Jewelers.

And SPEAKING of demons, December 5th is Krampus Day, so be sure to terrify all the children in your life by filling their heads with stories of Santa’s sidekick, Gruff Vom Krampus, an impish, black-tongued Satan who beat children with reeds and rattles chains in their ears. Leave it to Germany. Why, Krampus even has his own, hilarious Twitter page this season! I wonder what person(s) are behind that?

Shown: Giddy Up, Krampus! How can you have any apples if you don’t eat your MEAT!

Seanbaby’s incredibly comprehensive review of the Secret Video Game Tips, Codes & Strategies VHS (and interview with star Donn “With Two N’s” Nauert!) is a thing of comedy beauty I won’t attempt to duplicate. Go read it again for the first time. But that post is years old now, and most of the videos don’t work. Probably because they pre-date YouTube.

And that’s a shame, because you’ve probably never gotten to see the clip of the world’s most Goddawful NES Secret Code of All Time. I don’t think Seanbaby mentions this one.

This video is for any of you kids bitching about load times or hard drive space or 16-digit Wii Friend Codes (ok, those still suck. You can bitch about that), just remember that when I was a kid, I had to learn about a 70-character level select code from a mouthbreathing hoser on a tracking-impaired VHS tape. And what did my trouble get me? A chance to cheat at Rambo, one of the worst 8-bit turds to come out of the lower intestine of Acclaim’s game developers.

Shown: The way a real man enters a level select code: double fist it. “Capallll E, small Gee, Cappall H, Zerohl, Zerohl, Zerohl…”