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Monthly Archives: May 2011

The RoyCoup Book Club Offer

This is my version of ‘George Carlin’s Book Club Offer’. I figure if it’s a good idea, and the originator is dead, why not keep it going? (admittedly, mine pale in comparison) Here’s how Carlin began his advert and I’ll follow with my list:”Hi, welcome to the George Carlin book club. We’ve got books out the ass. Call now, call now. Here are some of the titles you will receive:

How to lease out the space inside your nose
How to make a small salad out of your work pants
How to become a total fucking greaseball
How to act laid back during a grease fire
How to filet a panda
How to style your hair with a bullwhip

And a few of mine:

How to fake your own death
How to cause your own death
How to properly kick a dog in the ass
How to run over your neighbors dog
How to intimidate children
How to make a sweater out of two dead cats
How to use your testicles as a coffee filter
How to cause the end of an era
How to build a life out of broken dreams
How to phrase everything you say as if it’s a question?
How to say nothing: the art of political speeches
How to pretend you’re from Texas: A George Bush teacher
How to make dinner from junkyard scraps
How to prove the existence of god
How to predict a bowel movement
How to blame yourself for everything
How to make people homicidal in church
How to make yogurt out of your toe cheese
How to turn beer tits into mammary glands

Call now, call now.

 
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Posted by on May 29, 2011 in Randomness

 

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You Ever Notice…

You ever notice…how many people there are. In the world. In this country. In your town. That you don’t know. They’re everywhere. There are so many goddamn people alive today. You could walk around all day, potentially all your life, and not notice one familiar face. Not one. Next time your out on the town or in the city look around. Who are all those people? Where did they come from? I find that most times the public just gels into one sort of blob that I need to try my best to maneuver around. But every so often I stop trying to look around for people I know when I’m out and I wonder “who the hell are all these people?”

 
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Posted by on May 28, 2011 in Randomness

 

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Bitchin’ Insights

This is just a post where I bitch about something that I hope is in insightful in some way. Actually, it’s probably not insightful, but it has a nice ring to it, so it stays. Here goes. Student presentations….

Why is it that most of my fellow students can’t put together a half- way decent oral presentation? Even in a conversational, relaxed way. Many of them seem to depend on power point presentations, which is just cheating. They put up the PP and either read straight from it, or they foolishly summarize. “So like, here’s this slide, there’s a bunch of information. I won’t read it all because there’s 500 words, but basically it’s like saying that like, if we don’t stop eating corn sugars we’re like, all going to be obeast.”

Some put dates and facts on theirs. Which I guess is fine. Most of them like to play videos. Short youtube videos. Oooohhhhh. Just what I needed. Fuckin’ movie time. As if the only way I can learn is through Sesame Street techniques. I say if your going to show a movie, you’d better be passing out popcorn. The ones that do show movies don’t even explain them. They just say something like, “yeah, so you see, like we all need to do something about, like the way we eat.”

I have an idea. (This is based on my assumption that the students in my classes are a lot like students all around and across the U.S.) Let’s bring back elocution. Let’s get speech classes in the schools. Laptops and iPhones obviously aren’t teaching people how to be comprehensible. Let’s get people going at an early age so that when they do reach adulthood, they can give a logical, thoughtful presentation that doesn’t rely on saying, “yeah, so, like, yeah. I don’t know, it’s all on the slide.”

 
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Posted by on May 27, 2011 in Musings

 

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Like: Like, What About It?

Like is a word with meaning. Like, seriously, it is. You wouldn’t know it, though, by the way it’s used. Even when it is used to express having a taste for– as in, for food– we don’t notice it. Here’s why. Most likely you will hear someone say something like this: I like, don’t just like this sandwich, I like, love it. See what I mean? Anyway, if you live in California I’m sure you hear ‘like’ used to nauseating effect. I know I do.

It seems most people I run into can’t even really speak in full sentences. Only in what I call ‘sentencial vignettes’– or just vignettes– which are basically short pieces of sentences that are joined together by the word ‘like’. I’ll give ya another example. The other day I heard this ‘sentencial vignette’ spoken: Then, like, I went to the library, and like, I had to, like, actually check out, like, books. And it, like, had been so long that, like, I just laughed. Like, I almost forgot to how to, like, look through a card catalogue!

Since the word ‘like’ has become such an integral part of American speech for some, I thought I would provide a few definitions for it. Just for, like, the hell of it.

The New Websters University Dictionary of 1937 defines ‘like’ as:
adj. similar; resembling; equal or nearly equal; disposed: adv. in the same manner as; probably; as; as if: v.t. to have a taste for; enjoy: n. a counterpart.

The Urban Dictionary defines ‘like’ as:
A meaningless word used in teen-age [not just teenage anymore] American speech which may indicate, among other things, a gap in thinking or brain functioning; a contemporary equivalent of “uh” or “um”.

Every third word used in the LA and Orange County areas of Southern California.

So like, what about it?

 
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Posted by on May 27, 2011 in Musings

 

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I ‘WTF’ Huckabee

In case these Ted Nugent lyrics for ‘Cat Scratch Fever’ aren’t enough to send the folks at FOX into a fit– relating to Common performing at the White House– after Huckabee jammed with Nugent the other night, it might do some people well to remember that Bob Dylan performed there back in February of 2010. Bob Dylan. The same guy who wrote a song about a guy he really loved: George Jackson (not to mention Hurricane Carter). George Jackson. Who was jailed for one year to life– for robbing a gas station of $70. And who was shot just a few days before the start of his trial for allegedly killing a guard at Soledad Prison. Dylan apparently loved him because ‘he wouldn’t take no shit from no one/ He wouldn’t bow down or kneel/ Authorities, they hated him/ Because he was just too real”. Granted, Dylan has rarely– if ever– played this song live and you never know with him. Either way, he wrote it and recorded it in 1971 not long after Jackson’s death. You didn’t hear anyone at FOX bitch and moan about that.

But just for the fun of it let’s look at the lyrics for ‘Cat Scratch Fever’ (oh, keeping in mind Ted’s sentimental ballad Stranglehold) with some analyses in parentheses just for the hell of it:

Well I don’t know where they come from
But they sure do come
I hope they comin’ for me
And I don’t know how they do it
But they sure do it good
I hope they doin’ it for free

(Innocent enough. This has to be a scene backstage at a concert where young and horny women show up to either hang out or ball out rock stars. I like how Nuge groups the women he sees together as ‘they’ and thinks they must all be there for sex. Oh, and hopefully aren’t charging for it.)

They give me cat scratch fever
Cat scratch fever

(This sounds like a disease. Sorry, but it does.)

The first time that I got it
I was just ten years old
I got it from some kitty next foor
I went and see the Dr. and
He gave me the cure
I think I got it some more

(Ah HA!. So it is a disease after all. Here we have Nuge detailing his history of VD going back to when he was 10 years old. The little ‘kitty next door’ must’ve been quite the sexual savant to have had VD when she was still a kitty. (And why is he insinuating that he has some more from said kitty?). Or maybe she was one of the groupies who was at his show who somehow knew what he would turn out as and wanted to get first dibs.)

It’s nothin dangerous
I feel no pain
I’ve got to ch-ch-change
You know you got it when you’re going insane
It makes a grown man cryin’ cryin’
Won’t you make my bed

(He feels no pain from the VD. Even though he’s cryin’, cryin’ and going insane. Yes, you do need to change, Teddy boy. You need to learn how to change your own sheets and make your own bed. And you need to come to grips with pain. And misogyny.)

I make the pussy purr with
The stroke of my hand
They know they gettin’ it from me
They know just where to go
When they need their lovin man
They know I do it for free

(This is just sad. He’s so hit up with the VD that he can only satisfy the women who were there for him– and weren’t charging after all– with his hand. And it’s only a stroke at that. And how does Teddy know that the women are being stroked by him? He paints a portrait of a gang of chicks and guys hanging out either getting laid or waiting to get laid. Either way, there is sex going on with multiple people here. So how does he know that they think the hand stroke on their vahina is from him? They could just be thinking it happened in passing. So Teddy boy isn’t actually involved in the sex. It’s a sad song actually. Here’s a nice orgy going on and alls fever-dicked Nugent can do is brush a cha-chi every now and then and think he’s some big stud whose loving is so good he must charge for it. But don’t worry, he does it for free. What a guy.)

 
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Posted by on May 17, 2011 in Music

 

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The Out of Work Umpire

If your an American, you watch baseball. If you don’t, you’re probably a terrorist or a socialist of some kind. Anyway, if you watch baseball you probably have noticed in the past couple of years how bad the umpiring has gotten. (Unless you watch baseball in California. Then you watch only when other people yell at the screen and interrupt your dialogue on wine and politics. Or when your team just wins the World Series. That’s right.) It has been so bad at times that it can lead one to believe- and the ‘one’ in this case is me- that they are doing it on purpose in order to expand instant replay and drag baseball unnecessarily along into the 21st century. Anyway, with all this bad umpiring going on it can lead one to think- and the ‘one’ in this case is once again me- about maybe firing an umpire. Which then leads one further to think- again me- what if there was an out of work umpire? Just roaming the streets, not knowing what to do, not knowing anything but umpiring. So this jobless ump walks around all day looking for situations in public life where he can interject and make a call. What kind of things would he be able to judge? Would he make only ‘safe’ and ‘you’re out!’ calls? Or would he also call balls and strikes? Now that I think of it, he probably could call balls and strikes because there would inevitably be a time when he would come upon a guy trying to hook up with a girl or get her number and when he failed- even though she’s pushing 34, is out of work and feels the need to breed- he could say ‘strike three! you’re out!’ OK. Let’s see what other kinds of situations our unemployed, hopeless umpire might run into….

Let’s say there’s a bus that has pulled up to a stop. People get off and then people file in. Someone is running, this is happening in the morning, to catch the bus to work. The bus driver can see the person running in his/her direction but decides to act totally oblivious (why do they do that?). However, this runner makes it just in time so that the driver has only had the door closed about 3 seconds and the runner is persistently yelling, “open the door! let me in! why do bus drivers always do this?! I know you saw me running!’ And the driver relents, with an inward smile, and the runner makes the bus in time. Our umpire is standing there watching this- not getting on the bus, he just has nothing to do- and makes the call: “SAFE!” The driver shakes his head.

Oh, here’s one. Let’s remember that our umpire has the authority to throw someone out of a game. Let’s say there’s a scene in a supermarket. The ump is on line buying diet coke and Doritos (Doritos was actually on spell check, for real) for breakfast and the guy in front of him is arguing with the clerk that he didn’t get the right amount of change. At first he is polite but he becomes increasingly incensed by the clerks refusal to even hear him out. Finally he yells out, “just give me my fucking change old man!”. Yep, our ump steps in and delivers the verdict: “You! You’re outta here!” And he tosses the disgruntled corporate supermarket shopper outta the store.

Let’s say there is a couple out on a date, guy and a girl. They are walking into a restaurant- the ump is smoking by the front door, not because he is eating there, he just has nothing else to do and as he was walking by he heard that they were playing smooth jazz and so he stopped by for a smoke- and the guy does not wax chivalrous by opening the door for his powdered maid. The ump notices the dismayed look on the damsel”s face and makes the call: ‘strike one!’.

Our ump is hanging out on a street corner talking to a hot dog vender, watching the foot traffic. Down one street he sees a guy walking towards the intersection, obviously hungover at 2:30 on a Sunday afternoon, with two large pizzas balanced in the palm on his hand. Down the adjoining street is an out of work environmentalist consultant jogging to keep fit because she’s pushing 34 and isn’t pregnant yet. The ump sees that the timing is working out so that the pizza loser and the non-pregnant woman are set to run into each other at the intersection of the two streets. The not-yet-knocked-up jogger runs smack into the pizza guy. They tumble to the ground, and the guy drops the pizzas. Our ump makes the call: she’s safe! He dropped the pizza. As the two are nervously apologizing, the dude makes a bold play and asks for the girls number. She scoffs and keeps on jogging. The ump looks at the dude: You! You’re out! He doesn’t protest the call. However, she regrets her rash decision, granted that she thought the guy was kind of cute and bold for asking her number on such a lark and that it could have been ‘fate’. This is exactly why she isn’t a mother yet. She’s struck out. The ump knows this and, pointing in her direction, yells ‘strike 436!’ as she walks away. She doesn’t hear him over her Britney Spears, but she hears him all the same.

Take Your Base. Our ump is on line in an ice cream shop. In front of him is a guy in his late 30s with his cute blondey headed 8 year old boy. The boy, in near incomprehensible English, orders a cone of booger snots and scabs ice cream to go with his dads cone of regret. As they are being rung up, the ice cream clerk tells the guy that the cone for his son is on the house, no charge. (It’s uncertain whether he had a thing for the little boy or if he wanted to be the little boy so he could be molested by his father, our ump is not sure.) Our ump, seeing all of this, points to the boy and says, ‘take your base!’

Our ump is back at the hot dog stand. Nicolo, the owner of said hot dog stand, and him have gotten close. Nic- for short- he’s a good guy. He can curse in seven different languages. Only one of them the umpire suspects is an actual language. But, he gives him a free hot dog everytime he makes the right call. So naturally they are pals. One day the ump is watching traffic mindlessly when he sees that a bicyclist- or whatever they’re called- didn’t see that the light turned yellow because he had headphones in so that he could listen to the latest Britney Spears in hopes that he will be inspired to generate a marketing strategy to string Campbell’s Tomato Soup unnecessarily along into the 21st century. The ump sees that a taxi is getting ‘last licks’ on the yellow light and takes a left turn going 45. He plows right into the oblivious bicycle rider in the aerodynamic schmuck-gear who smashes his head on the hood of the car before tumbling over the windshield, bouncing over the roof, makes a horrific noise with his head on the trunk and then leaves the witnesses no doubt that his skull was crushed when he hits the ground. The ump almost chokes on his hot dog, but during the stunned hush of traffic and pedestrians, summons up enough oxygen to make the call: GAME OVER!

 
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Posted by on May 9, 2011 in Musings

 

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Woody’s Pix

Woody Guthrie– along with being a great songwriter, optimist, cartoonist, humourist, and the dustyst, singinist humanist– produced some iconic photography. Breeze through if ya feel it and give a listen to what Bob Dylan had to say about Woody if ya feel it.

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Posted by on May 8, 2011 in Music

 

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