Author Archive

diet coke and mentos

July 28th, 2006


202 liters of Diet Coke and 523 Mentos, to be precise.

Oh, and with great music by Audio Body.

riding the core revolution

July 28th, 2006

It's just like horseback riding

Saddle up, kids. Now you can buck common sense, all logic AND your hips at the same time. Don’t forget to “see it in action” – group scenes of the elderly and out of shape rockin’ and tiltin’ their pelvises always promises to be a good time.

You know, I would actually be interested in this if one minor adjustment were made to it. A well-placed saddle horn, if ya get my drift.

And I think you do.

just lazy, I guess.

July 27th, 2006

Late-night dancer

Maxima. Golden Companion. Celebrity X.

They sound like condoms, don’t they? Or some sort of virility boosters? Right? Right?

Wrong. They’re scooters. Motorized scooters. The kind you sit in. The kind made for the somewhat disabled, but mostly used by the fat and lazy who are just tired of walking. Super sized for the “increase in obesity” even.

“Mr. Robles doesn’t have a problem walking — he says he was simply saving up energy for late-night dancing. ‘I’m pretty healthy,’ says the 37-year-old truck driver from Brooklyn, N.Y. ‘Just lazy, I guess.'”

Late night dancing, indeed. Well, clearly. I mean, look at the picture.

Oh, and let’s not forget the ones who use them to dupe ushers into thinking they’re disabled, so they can buy cheap tickets to shows in casinos, but still get great seats.

aliens . . . or pulverized bats?

June 3rd, 2006

Boy, aliens sure are much smaller and redder than I'd imagined they'd be.

There’s something very Arthur C. Clarke-ian about having “blood rains” (what one might consider a sign of that elusive beast, Satan, or at least of the impending apocalypse. . . of course, I’m using the term “one” as shorthand for “psychotic religious nut”) turn out to be an alien life form. Although I can’t say that I don’t love the idea that’s it’s just a really fine misting of bat blood.

DNA-less bat blood.

That self-replicates.

At temperatures exceeding 600ºF.

ooops. . .

May 25th, 2006

So a few months ago during a leisurely hike, a friend of mine and Lou’s (my best friend and ex-boyfriend) suggested we put together a comedy fire routine, possibly for the upcoming Xara festival (for which we were already performing with our fire conclave, The Phoenix Projekt). This was very exciting to us, because no one EVER does fire comedy. . . fire performers are generally too busy accumulating all the trappings of would-be rock stars to think outside the Tribal/Sexy/Intense box.

Cut to one month later, and this is what we made (that’s me on the left, with the red dreads, and lou is the bald man on the left). . .featuring the Tubatron stylings of our very own David Silverman, who explains how to make a Tubatron here.

beware the ides. . .

March 15th, 2006


Happy birthday, Jeff.

guitarist wanted: must not be clammy handed

March 8th, 2006

David Icke only wears turquoise

David Icke is a former soccer player who keeps churning out poorly written, even-more-poorly supported, conspiracy theory that’s like Cheese Whiz™ for your soul. David Icke posits such political figures as Al Gore as blood slurping satanists, and claims the reptilian humanoids (yes! lizard people!) who are running this whole planet (again, yes! lizard people!) can be recognized by their clammy hands. David Icke doesn’t believe in margins or proper punctuation, nor does he rely too heavily on anything even remotely approaching logic. David Icke thinks whole civilizations are thriving in the center of the earth, and controlling our every facet of existence.

David Icke has a son.

And David Icke’s son has a rock band.


sleek, low-calorie holy-grail spotted in connecticut

February 27th, 2006


Some years ago I either purchased a gift for Jeff, or I played a prank on him. It was too long ago, or I’m too high, to remember, but either way, my actions culminated in the consumption of a can of Tab, by both Jeff and Evan. Neither one fared well, if memory serves. . . something about stomach aches, crawling skin, and a permanent and far reaching apathy, which I’ve heard continues to afflict each even to this very day. So it was with glee that I received news that biochemical engineers and chemists have finally set aside their age old rivalry, and come together to gift us with the cure for lethargy and listlissness. One that’s pink and low calorie to boot! New! Tab Energy Drink.

Sadly, it would appear that not every state in this fine country has been blessed by the budding good will between those great men in lab coats, and, um, those other great men in lab coats, as this holy grail of energy has, as of yet, only been sighted on the hallowed shelves of Stop&Shop in the 203.

Or is it the 860?