Me, doing more blogging, because what the hell else am I going to do?

I'm going to be blogging on occasion at Best Recession Ever, a blog that whistles cheerfully amid the collapse of the West.

I'll be cross-posting here, so, while you should be support Mac, Aaron and Jeremy, if you're in a hurry, you can just read my stuff over here.

I don't know how to say the above without sounding like an asshole.

I'm sorry.

You are all Jet Pack people.

You are a Jet Pack person, because you're tolerant of pointlessly rad things, otherwise you wouldn't be here.

You see, at least on a theoretical level, the inherent joy, value, greatness of strapping on a box of a highly unstable liquid and letting in blow up in such a way that you can sort of control the trajectory and flip the bird at the surly bonds of the Earth and not die, or if you do die, it will be amazing and everybody will say that, while it's sad you died horribly, you died the most awesomest way.

I know, know, know in my heart of hearts that is true about you, you amazing sociopathic genius.

My friend Mac is a Jet Pack person to a fault. Like, he HAS WRITTEN A BOOK ABOUT HIS QUEST TO STRAP THAT SHIT ON FOR REALS.

And he's written a book on his descent (Joke! You ascend in a Jet Pack. Heh. God, I'm sorry) into the world of the Jet Pack, or more properly, rocket belts. Mac spent a year or so hanging in this weird subculture made up of human being who refuse to accept that future that promised to us on The Jetsons isn't coming. They are making their own future. Neat.

Mac interviewed me for the book, and I think I gave long, boring answers, so I might not have made the final cut.

But still, pick up a copy. You're the type.

The book is called Jetpack Dreams: One Man's Up and Down (But Mostly Down) Search for the Greatest Invention That Never Was. You can also read about the book here.

I interviewed Hank, Mac's lunatic liberal gun freak father, here.

Some answers for Tim

Work chum Tim has been puzzling over some knotty issues as of late, and has asked to me to weigh in on this blog. Here’s the result. I’m not saying my answers are good, but I am saying I am at least trying and that should count for something.

What the f@#ck happened to Ice Cube?

O'Shea Jackson, also known as “Ice Cube” and “Frasier” is primarily famous for wearing baseball caps with aplomb, though he also is a movie actor and was evidently a singer (or whatever the talking guy is in a ska band, sort of like Rankin’ Roger is in General Public) in some sort of ska band or something. His cousin, who is better than him, is Del the Funkee Homosapien, who provided the voice of Barney Rubble in Gorillaz, a Hannah Barbera project.

His turn in the film Anaconda got him a lot of notice, and that launched the Ice Cube media juggernaut, ultimately leading to Ice Cube landing the eponymous role in “That’s So Raven”.

Actually I really don’t know anything about Ice Cube. He seems like he was secretly not all gang guy, but a nerd, like one of the kids in “Fame” or something.

I think the Disney ride that is Ice Cube is closer to the true O’Shea Jackson.

I didn’t answer this one very good.

What manner of guy actually uses those paper toilet-seat covers?

Fussy men in $300 jeans and faux-hawks, creative directors mostly (and we know who I’m talking about).

It has to do with an idiotic denial of one’s own mortality, and the fact that one has a bum-bum that makes boom-booms. These creeps irreconcilably straddle the life-denying stasis of a particularly non-reflective consumer aestheticism and fact that one lives in on the material plane where time is cyclic and we die and are reborn a little bit every sticnking minute of our mortal existence, and the abyss is as a close as the breath of your lover, or splash back from a toilet.

That’s why these people are assholes. BECAUSE THEY PRETEND THEY DON’T OWN THEM.

Also: men who have shingles on their buttocks. But I’m not as annoyed with them, 'cause dudes got painful shingles on they asses.

What are some items one could put Wing Pepper sauce on?

Despite it’s exciting and exotic name Wing Pepper sauce is a watery bland sauce with cloying cheese notes.
Because it’s barely registers, you could dump it gallons of this shit of most things and not improve the flavor.

It is very expensive.

Wing Pepper can be added to the following foods/item, and not even make a goddamn difference:

 Watermelon
 Salsa
 Rice and Milk
 Beef Wellington
 Pad Thai
 Wasabröd ™
 Kugel
 Dry breakfast cereal
 Dried sinew
 Ambrosia
 Beer caddies
 Powdered sports drink
 Chaw-type tabacco snuff
 Eggs
 Tofutti Cuties ™ Vegan Dessert Novelties
 American paper the currency
 Hushpuppies (fried fish)
 Hushpuppies (shoes)
 Shrimp Etuoffe

Mouthy Canadian Broads

There's so many of them.

That's a gross generalization, actually. I know all of two in the real world, one is currently not blogging and one never even had a blog...AND SHE LIVES IN OAKLAND. (And there is a Canadian blogger I know who lives in the U.K. who is currently not blogging and she's not mouthy.)

In the blog world I know of two: The inimitable Jay of Kill the Goat, this new Kim person, proprietess (which is a sexist word) of the insanely named Repliderium, which is a Canadian term that refers to your mom.

Neat. Up Canada! Huh!

My GOD this a great podcast

The Cold Bath

This is really good. My friend Michael (who I really don’t know all that well, to tell you the truth. But he’s a nice chap) has another friend, a mysterious Luciferian gent who is a former political consultant. Michael has convinced this man, a man I guessing is in his sixties, to sit down a spiel about anything and everything. And it’s stunning.

Your parents may have had friend like this, a charming bastard who corners you at a dinner party and terrifies you by showing you the abyss before you even realized there was such a thing.

Mr. Anonymous is a hell of a storyteller, completely infuriating and hilarious.
It’s not probably for everyone, but if you’re a This American Life-loving sort of person, you’ll enjoy this.

It’s like This American Life crossed with Nietzsche.

The web is a powerful collaboration tool for spazzes

A couple of years ago, blog chum Jack P. Toerson linked to the singular Mr. Baldo Has A Blog Now, a blog marketing the wonderful and spurious Mr. Baldo's Shiny Wax For Balds -- Now with Phlogiston®.

Well, Jack P. and I were possibly the only readers of this blog, and we both contributed a few jingles does in the style of various popular tunes. I visited the blog today, and it seems that sadly, Mr Baldo's blog has not updated since 2006.

Since it doesn't seem like a working concern, I thought I'd better grab my "work" before it disintegrated into dead photons. The web is filled with the ephemeral crap! Yay, the Web!

Here are the songs:

(To the tune of Back in Black)

Baldo Bald™, I hit the wax,
With Phlogiston®, I’ll share the facts!
Yes, I'm gleaming my dome,
Like Cadillac chrome!
I keep a-lookin' at my scalp 'cause it's gettin' me high,
Forget the wig 'cause I’m never shy!
I got Phlogiston®, like bomb,
That’s why my scalp is looking so fly!

'Cause I'm Bald! Yes, I'm Bald!
Well, I'm Bald! Yes, I'm Bald!
Well, I'm Ba-a-a-ald!Ba-a-a-ald!
Well, I'm Baldo Bald™!
Yes, I'm Baldo Bald™!

Ow!

Baldo Bald™, give my scalp a smack,
Going to go get a Baldo’s Family-Pac™!
Yes, I'm polished good, like I should
Going catch the next bus to Hollywood!
'Cause I'm back on the shine and my dome is so fine,
Perhaps one evening we go out and dine!
As a gentleman, you can be certain I’ll pay,
And I’ll be buffed the Phlogiston® way!

'Cause I'm Bald! Yes, I'm Bald!
Well, I'm Bald! Yeah, I'm Bald!
Well, I'm Ba-a-a-ald!
Ba-a-a-ald!
Well, I'm Baldo Bald™!
Yes, I'm Baldo Bald™!

Well, I'm Ba-a-a-ald! (I'm Bald!)
Ba-a-a-ald! (Well, I'm Bald!)
Ba-a-a-ald! (I'm Bald!)
Ba-a-a-ald! (I'm Bald!)
Ba-a-a-ald! (I'm Bald!)
Ba-a-a-ald!
Baldo Bald™!
Yes, I'm Baldo Bald™!

Remember: There’s Bald, and then there’s Baldo Bald.
Now with Phlogiston®‼
Baldo’s Shiny Wax™ for Balds. Available at your friendly neighborhood drugstore.

**

(To the "tune" of Baby Got Back)

[Intro]
Oh, my, god. Maurice, look at his BALD. It is so shiny. He looks like,someone who avails himself of Mr. Baldo’s Shiny Wax™ For Balds. But, y'know, who can’t help but admire shiny Balds? Woman only talk to him, because his gleaming dome exudes confidence, 'kay? I mean, his Bald, is just so polished. I can't believe it's just so burnished,, it's like,out there, I mean – my god. He's just so ... Bald!

[Sir Bald-o-Lot]

♪ I like Mr.Baldo’s and I cannot lie
♪ You other Baldie's can't deny
♪ That when Phlogiston® is applied as directed,
♪ Your scalp starts to get respected,
♪ And you GLEAM, wanna take off you cap
♪ And show that ra-di-ant dome
♪ And with the incandescent glow your wearing
♪ The masses can't stop staring
♪ Tia Carrera wants to get wit'cha
♪ And take your picture
♪ Before your dull pate made ya feel mourny…
♪ But with that Bald suddenly it’s pleasant to be so shorny
♪ Ooh, Baldo'-smooth-skin
♪ Now you admired by colleagues and friends
♪ Truly, Phlogiston® is meant
♪ To be an above average sol-vent
♪ I've seen them coruscate!
♪ Drop some science on that pate!
♪ It gleam with sheens,
♪ Like a Monet landscape scene
♪ I'm tired of magazines
♪ Sayin' soporific scalps are the thing
♪ Take the average Baldman and ask him
♪ The dome gotta pack much vim
♪ So, Baldos! (Yeah!) Baldos! (Yeah!)
♪ Has your Bald got Phlogiston®? (Hell yeah!)
♪ Tell 'em to buff it! (Buff it!) Buff it! (Buff it!)
♪ BUFF that healthy Bald!
♪ Baldo’s got scalp!(My Baldo’s Shiny Wax, with Phlogiston®)
♪ Baldo’s got scalp!
♪ (Apply just a drop to bust a gleam on top)
♪ (Apply just a drop to bust a gleam on top)
♪ (Apply just a drop to bust a gleam on top)
♪ (Apply just a drop to bust a gleam on top)

Now with Phlogiston®‼
Baldo's Shiny Wax™ for Balds. Available at your friendly neighborhood drugstore.

**

(To the tune of Satisfaction)
♪ I can't get no Phlogiston®
♪ I can't get no Phlogiston®.
♪ 'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try.
♪ I can't get no, I can't get no.

♪ When I go to the grocery store
♪ And the idiot clerk in Aisle 6 (Bald care)
♪ Is tellin' me they don’t got no more
♪ Baldo's Shiny Wax™ for Balds
♪ As he snickers at my occluded scalp,
♪ I can't get no Phlogiston®
♪ Hey hey hey, that's what I say.

♪ I need to get some Phlogiston®
♪ I need to get some Phlogiston®
♪ 'Cause I’m Bald and I’m Bald and I’m Bald and I’m Bald.
♪ I can't get no, I can't get no.

♪ When I'm tending to dome care
♪ And the tin bottom is shining through
♪ The leavings of Mr. Baldo’s magic goo
♪ And I’ve reached the end – my heart may rend
♪ At this cranial tragedy!
♪ I scream no, no oh Christ no!
♪ Hey hey hey, my scalp is dull.

♪ I can't get no Phlogiston®
♪ I need a tin, but I don’t got one.
♪ 'Cause I’m Bald and I’m Bald and I’m Bald and I’m Bald.
♪ I can't get no, I can't get no.

♪ When I'm walkin' round the block
♪ And I'm scrapin’ here and I'm beggin’ there
♪ Just tryin' to score some wax.
♪ The clerk tells me better come back later next week
♪ Seems you hit us at Bald season’s peak

♪ I can't get no, I can't get no,
♪ I can't get no Mr. Baldo’s® Shiny Wax™!
(Try our new Mentho-Phlog, No Tears wax. For children's tender Balds.)

Now with Phlogiston®‼
Baldo's Shiny Wax™ for Balds. Available at your friendly neighborhood drugstore.

**

(To the Tune of Iron Man)

I. AM. BALD-O!

♪Has he lost his sheen?
♪What can he do to make it gleam?
♪Can he shine his dome?
♪With a dollop of Phlogiston® foam?
♪The la-bel has he read?
♪Will he apply to his head?
♪Just five minutes there
♪Is a priceless aid in Bald-o care.

♪He is polished now
♪The La-dies all shout out WOW!
♪Battling scalpie brine
♪For the future of mankind

♪Nobody mocks him
♪They just stare at his head
♪With Baldo’s Shiny Wax™
♪Any woman he can bed.

♪Now the time is here
♪To travel to your drugstore near
♪Pull it from the shelf
♪An essential tool for Bald-o health!

♪Nobody mocks him
♪They just stare at his head
♪With Baldo’s Shiny Wax™
♪Any woman he can bed.

♪Phlogiston® contains no lead
♪It’s a perfect balm for the Bald-o Head!
♪Run to the store as fast as you can
♪Baldo's Shiny Wax™ for Balds lives again!

As advertised on the Shorn Hannity Radio Hour.
Now with Phlogiston®‼
Baldo's Shiny Wax™ for Balds. Available at your friendly neighborhood drugstore.

**

(The Tune of "Blake's Jerusalem")

♪ And did this wax in ancient time
♪ Polish England's Baldies a-gleam?
♪ And did the waxie wax of Phlogiston®
♪ Giveth England's pleasant Baldie sheen?

♪ And did the Shiny Wax Divine
♪ Shine forth upon our smooth-ed domes?
♪ And was a Healthy Brill-i-ance buff-ed here
♪ Among these dark Satanic liver spots?

♪ Bring me my tub of wax!
♪ Bring me my lambswool shammy!
♪ Bring me my sealant!
♪ O clouds of Phlogiston®‼ Bring me my Baldo's Shiny Wax™!

♪ I will not cease from my buffing,
♪ Nor shall my shammy sleep in my hand
♪ Till Baldo's Shiny Wax™ for Balds,
♪ Has smoothed and polish-ed my pate.

Now with Phlogiston®‼
Baldo's Shiny Wax™ for Balds. Available at your friendly neighborhood drugstore.

SO, uh, neat.

Musica!

My friend Kelly has dreamed up a delicious project called The Three Minute Miracle Project, basically a group of music listening fools sharing music. Each week, a member of the group uploads an MP3 playlist via Pando and everybody else gets to enjoy it.

(If you're looking for an exceptional graphic designer, check out Kelly's professional site here. And here's her freakin' insane house.

Below you'll find my playlist. It's hitting the boards this Monday, but as my BFF, I'll let you have a sneak peek. I'm a giddy fool. It's pretty good, if a bit sixties. The Bee Gees even make a turn in their early Beatles rip-off period. Enjoy, eared friend! (You'll have to download the aforementioned Pando, but it's free.)

Here's a chappie with a well tempered blog

Citizen of the Month. He's a good writer.

Paula has started a new blog

It's called eatshopsleepberkeley and it's a blog that deals with

1. Eating

2. Shopping

3. Sleeping

all in Berkeley.

It'll be restaurant reviews and crap. So local interest. But there you go.

I hope to contribute.

Flower Travellin' Band

Roughly the Blue Cheer of Japan. Great Japanese acid rock.



Hat tip to the inimitable slickdpdx (a distant relation toMr. Mxyzptlk) of the even inimitabler-to-being-sui-generis Known Unknowns.

Okay, I laid it on a bit thick.

There's this American woman who somehow lives in Norway.

Yeah, I don't know either. But here's her blog if you don't believe me: Sidestepping Real.

I like the writing. Jesus, get off my neck already.

I got me a Wunderkammer and I know how to use it.

Blog friend Marion has a very, very interesting blog called Mapping the Marvellous. It deals with, and I'm quoting here:

Books, articles, quotes, images, concepts, theories and thoughts related to my research on collecting, taxonomy, classification, cabinets of curiosities, the history of natural history and surrealism.

Which more interesting than most other stuff you're going to look at today. You should go visit. Marion might even classify you.

Toby wrote werewolf book.

Friend Toby has written a book about Werewolves. Werewolves in LA. In free verse. They have their own werewolf gangs. And the hero is a dog catcher who falls in love with one of the, uh, bitches.

And this the point were you start getting antsy, right? Well, hold the fuck on. You don't know everything.

The book is really, really good. Here's the London Times review if you insist on not believing me.

It's out in the UK even as you read this, and will available in zee Amerika come Feb.

It's good. And because you sort of know me, you sort of know Toby, so you're deep in the currents of the zeigeist.

It feels great, doesn't it?

A blog meme thing from Stephanie

Stephanie made me do this.

We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.

People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.

At the end of your blog post, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.

Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

Here’s my go:

1. I have a gimp wrist, specifically on my left arm. It only rotates 180 degrees, from thumb pointing straight up, to thumb pointing straight down. As a result I can’t put my left hand flat, like “slap me five” flat. Has prevented me from pursuing my dream of being a waiter. The Wife claims she fell for me when I showed her my malfunction, so I guess it worked out.

2. I tried out for the quiz show “Jeopardy”. I passed the written test, but performed miserably on the screen test portion.

3. The Wife has bandied about the figure of $150 per month as my Amazon allowance. I see this figure as sort of a baseline theoretical ideal, rather than an actual number per se.

4. I got my driver’s license at age 30. On the day of my first attempt at taking the test, The Wife drove me to the department of motor vehicles, and we pulled up to wait in the vehicle line. It was taking forever, so long in fact that The Wife had to leave to pick up our then infant daughter Ruby at daycare. I was left vehicle-less, standing in a long line of cars and trucks. In the Escalade in front of me, I could read the lips of the father of the 16 year-old kid in the passage seat, waiting to take his test. The man said “What is that motherfucker doing?”
A little functionary came waddling out and explained to me gently, as if I might flip out and kill him (because, let’s face it, I looked crazy standing in the drive with NO CAR) that “We don’t actually provide a car sir.”

I waited on the grass for The Wife to return from picking up the baby.

5. I get choked up by bagpipes. No idea why.

6. On the days I drive to work, I like to sing Hank Williams songs at the top of my lungs. And sometimes Nick Cave.

7. I have a prejudice against some types of southern American accents. I associate them with being disingenuous. I haven’t had any experiences with any southerners that were any more negative that with northerners. I have experienced more “Hell, you’re from San Francisco? How do you manage with all those fags out there?” coming from southern-accented voices. I dunno, it’s complicated and irrational.

8. My feet smell today.

Now, here’s my victims list of memed people:

G
Dave
Tracy
Kim
Marion
Jay
Kelly
Greg-who-is-not-me
Al: Cube mate and hug friend

Friendly-type low key travel blog.

Friend Tracy, formerly of the once and future How I Died Todayand formerly an eligible bachelorette (congratulations) has switched her attention to Travel Betty.

She travels shitloads -- how she manages I do not know -- and she writes well, so you should really visit. Seriously. Stop fucking around.

Three more blogs. Three more handsome blogs. And a site.

-- Meatspace Friend Kelly has launched a blog called Stuff/Things, so I guess she's my blogfriend, too. Kelly is very nice and charming and is tasteful, is funny, is blah blah blah. She's a graphic designer/art director. She has a nice house.

And if I may be bold this Saturday morning (at home with a young boy covered in angry red hives), I think blogspace/meatspace friend Kelly should be friends with San Francisco based blogspace/meatspace friend Tracy. Tracy is a writer and is very nice and charming and is tasteful, if funny, is blah blah blah. I have never been to Tracy's house.

Kelly, meet Tracy. Tracy, meet Kelly.

-- Meatspace Friend Kelly has a dreamy husband, the kind ladies have dreamy little dreams about. He has a blog entitled Logocracy. Apparently, he'd like to give Condi Rice's gapped teeth a rogering.

-- Cubemate, making things on the web person and general Englishman Alastair has a blog, called The Laconic. Is he, you know, laconic? A bit, though if you are going to call your blog "The Laconic", you had better be pretty fucking laconic. Will take this up with him next week.

-- Not a blog, but more of a proper site, that is what friend Dylan's site is to me. Has photos.

Mikon? What you at man?

Your mama called, she's mad, man.

(Mikon is a blog friend from Malayaasisiasia, also spelled Malaysia)

Interview: Jim, maker of incredibly strange and profane toys.

Obviously, this is not Jim

Friend and sometime commute pal Jim comes from an incredibly large and talented family of musicians, authors, editors, and other sort of fancy pants bohemians.

Jim himself is an author, but the kicker for me is he is also a toymaker. Jim is a co-founder of StrangeCo., “Purveyors of the Peculiar”. He’s also a bit of an art toy evangelist. Here’s a briefish email interview with Jim. He’s cool.

G: So you make… dolls? Toys? Objects d’Art? Thingies? What do you call them?

J: We make collectible vinyl toys, based on original designs by independent artists. They're known by all sorts of descriptive terms - Designer Toys, Urban Vinyl, Art Toys, Fashion Toys.... I do like Thingies, though, certainly the most concise.

In our host high falutin’ moments, we like to think that we are creating accurate, fun 3-D representations of a particular artist's 2-D character design, an in the process making affordable pieces of sculpture art - kind of like a vinyl limited edition print.

G: Who designs them?

J: We work with quite a number of artists, actually, most of whom have had some success in one form of subculture art mode or another - street artists, independent cartoonists, illustrators, etc. To bat around some names for your avid readers: Mars-1,Jim Woodring,Ron English,Friends With You,Gary Baseman,Tim Biskup,Todd Schorr,Kathy Steico-Schorr,tokidoki.... there's a ton more and even more that we'd like to work with, but hey - can't take up too much room in your blog, eh?

G: Do you have an art background?

J: I'm more a man of letters, but I certainly appreciate good visual art.

G: Is “playability” considered when creating your stuff, or is it meant for the shelf?

J: It's actually more about "poseability" than playability - the toys we make usually have a few points of articulation (arms, legs, and neck are the general standard), so you can move the character into a couple of different postures. But we see the advantage of playability, too - we'd like to make the perfect desk fiddler for those nervous moments of pause between typing on the computer and answering the telephone.

G: You’ve commissioned some heavy hitting underground and fancy pantsy comic artists, like Peter Bagge and Jim Woodring. Do they dig what you’re doing? Do the artist ever get hands-on with the production stuff?

J: Yeah, both of those guys like what's going on with the weird toy
thing. It's an opportunity to take ideas that would otherwise only
exist in 2 dimensions and turn it into 3-D, and still retain some of
the feel of a mass-produced publication.

G: How big is the market for art toys in the US versus, say, Japan?

J: Japan, I think, has a more established toy collector culture, and is always "cooler" than the United States. But for what we do, the US
and Europe are bigger markets.

G: You just got back from the San Diego ComicCon. It’s interesting to me because your stuff has more of an urban culture feel in contrast with the whole men-in-tights thang that I associate with Comic cons. How do the more straight ahead comic fanboys approach you guys?

J: Well, Mr. Mills, it just ain't your granddaddy's comic con any more. The San Diego Comic Con is huge now, encapsulating way more than the normal superhero fare. A lot of people attend comic con specifically for the contemporary art angle. Ralph Bakshi has a booth at Comic Con, and this year I met Moebius. How cool is that? With that said, the folks in Batman costumes either like what we do or are indifferent to it. There's something for everyone at comic con now.

G: So, at your desk, it’s late, no one is around. Do you bust out some figures and start making explosion sounds?

J: I have a new USB hub on my desk that makes an auto-destruct sound when you flip a switch, I suppose to stand in for those times when you really feel like blowing up your computer. It makes a nice explosion sound, without me having to screw my face up and risk spittle all over my desk.

G: Can you guarantee that none of your figure will come to life and stab me to death in my sleep?

J: No Chuckies that I'm aware of. You're in good shape and can rest easy.

G: You’ve got smallish kids in your home. Do you play the “Dude, I’m a freakin’ toymaker. You are living with a goddamn TOYMAKER. Do you even comprehend HOW RAD THAT IS?” card very often?

J: Nathaniel, my eldest, who's in 2nd grade, took one of the toys that we sell to his class sharing day. He's already spreading the mystique around without any prompting be me, so I'm saving this card for an occasion of maximum effect. In the mean time, I prefer to rule with an iron fist - with an occasional boom explosion sound, runaway spittle and all.

##
Next up: possibly the promised Mojo Nixon interview?? We shall see. Mojo is a talker not a typer, so friend Dave is going to interview him over the phone. I’m going to China on a business trip, so Dave is handling the interrogation, which works out because I have a horrible, nasally voice.

Hicksion hits paydirt.

Blogfriend Hicksion, the dirty rotten imbecile that runs Close But No Cigar has been invited to produce a 15 minute radio show for the BBC. A 15 minute comedy radio show for the BBC. Or he's been invited to develop one, or he can sit in the lobby and an sit in the lobby and quietly color with crayons for awhile while listening to a
radio,, or he does make-up for a radio show, or he makes explosion sounds with his mouth for a radio version of Captain Scarlet. I'm not entirely certain.

What I can say certainly is this:

Hicksion is an absolute shithead.

The only comedy radio we get in the US is bearded middle-aged men punning about Broadway musicals on NPR.

Hicksion tried to corral a bunch of tardos, me included, to produce a comedy podcast, but we all kept getting distracted by colorful string and shiney bottle caps. So he "applied" himself and "bathed often" and "got off his pasty ass", and now he's all that. Dirtbag. I happen to know for a fact that Hicksion traffics in Japanese pig spanking videos. Be a damn shame if his masters at the bbc found out about it. A goddamn shame.

Congrats, goon.

Word to my gays, my bookish conservos, my ranty centrists, my progressives fightin' the man. Oh, and an English guy. And another Canadian.

Here are some loverly blog people, who I'd like to go on a cross-country bus trip with. Hopefully with a shitload of shrooms.

The gays:

Gay Sex and Advanced Calculus is run by a gentleman in Philly who is in vastly better shape than I am.

The Gay Agenda is manned by one Pursey Tittwiller, a person of great wealth and taste, among others.

The conservative:
Progressive Consevatism is run by a self-described "Punk Rock Conservative", who reads a shitload of books. Goddamn! Word up for books, y'all!

The cranky centrist:
Ranando Report is the home of a bona fide specimen of the semi-legendary species, The Western Democrat. Scrappy and opinionated.

The progressive:
Fighting Injustice and War belongs to a fellow who is medical marijuana legalization advocate. I say legalize it because, because, well, WHAT THE FUCK?

The English guy:
St. Custard’s is a nice, quiet blog of an odd disposition. Numbers his entries. I like that.

And, of course, another Canadian:
Here I Go Again belongs to Cathy, a woman from the Best Place in North America. And who am I to argue?

So, there you are. Keep the noise down, you goddamn freaks.