Part 1 in my 5,000 part series, “The Dangers of Rock and Roll.” I have six hours of footage from this thing. Here’s the first part, which displays all the dangers of Rock music.
If you’ve seen this brand new Kanye Video, you know it’s the best Monday Wake Up Call since Maxwell House invented caffeine. It’s awesome!!!! I never thought when I read 300—Frank Miller’s terribly boring graphic novel that got made into a fun movie—that someone would ape it and create a cultural powerhouse of a moment. Yeah, that last sentence was pretty annoying, just deal with it…I’m tired. Powerhouse will have to do. Cultural Powerhouse. Whatever. It works. Sure.
People can talk shit about Kanye West all they want: he’s the trendsetter. The waymaker. The recess organizer. The most popular kid. And I LOVE HIM. TEAM KANYE. Taylor Swift: your music is blah blah blah blah. Thank God Mr. West interrupted you, or we might not have anything to talk about still except your boring, pedestrian pop-country slush. Kanye West is pretty much the only pop-rapper worth listening to right now, until Luda puts something new out. I hope Kanye puts out an album so good, that Lady Gaga’s farkle-ass face implodes. BTW: For the record, Lady Gaga sucks. If you like her, though, I apologize—it must be hard to defend such shitty music all day, every day. Ok, polarizing rant over. Sorry. I really don’t care that much, honestly. I just like to shake the Ant Farm.
So here’s my version. Enjoy, and I hope your Monday Sucks! Blargh!
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.
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....]“
Remember a more charming, innocent time when you didn’t associate the eleven o’ clock hour with steel drums and Joe Francis’ Wayward Daughters Gone Wild? When alluding to sex, you had to say “party” or “make whoopi” or “have a wet whoopi party down at Flop Town?” Sure, we all do.
Ad #1: “We talked about EVERYTHING.”
When I feel lonely, I feel better knowing there’s a mom-jeans wearing Jersey girl out there wants to “tawlk, or just listen.” She’s on that phone line (you know, that fun phone line? Anyhowel…) We had SO much fun listening to how she says the word “anyhow.” For once, I’m just glad what’s actually on the other end of the phone during these calls is well-represented. Anyheowl, here it is….
Shown: Look into the eyeball.
Ad #2: “Actual Volleyball Coach Seeks Phone Love”
You know, I’m willing to suspend disbelief that a nympho sex kitten is waiting by the phone at all hours for my call, twirling the phone cord betwixt her fingers and painting her nails with little Pac-Men (hey, its my fantasy, OK? Stay out of this). But I draw the line at believing that male Volleyball coaches, female Playgirl models (aren’t Playgirl models dudes?), and Ambien-eating Executive Secretaries (that’s like saying CEO of Fry Cooks) are lining up to call, or even “talk to the Monitor if they’d like to be in the commercial.” What the hell? “You know, I’ve taken this Volleyball coaching thing about as far as it can go. It’s time to use my clout to represent a phone sex line.”
Hi, I’m Chad the Volleyball Coach—Bump, set, spike it, that’s the way I like it. Let’s have phone sex and, failing that, where are the volleyball games in my area?
Ad #3: “Be All That You Can Be Anyway You Want.”
This is probably one of my all time terrible favorites. It just drives me crazy the way the girl says “let me tell you about an exciting party line called 976-2900,” while confusing sleep deprivation for sexiness. I think I’ll try that sometime:
“Hey Chris, what’s your phone number?”
“My phone number? It’s called 555-2900″
“Ok, forget it if you’re going to be an asshole. What’s your email?”
“Let me tell you about my email called ChrisChrisChris@whooptydoo.com”
Also, “You can be yourself, or anyway you want.” Oh, good to hear! Can I also be on the phone, or any place I need?
Click through for more un-sexiness, and the LONGEST PHONE NUMBER EVER...
