Off the Top of My Head
I’m introducing a new feature here in the salt mines fueled by my insatiable desire to innovate. Off the top of my head I’ve decided to call it Off the Top of My Head. It’s part hair-raising excitement, part brainy thought-provoking ideas, a healthy dose of attitude, a smattering of snark, and, of course, snow drifts of dandruff.
Here’s just a little slice of the all-American pie known as Shit I’m Pondering Lately. This is stuff right Off the Top of My Head. (This post contains very little actual research.)
- A doctor was diagnosing people with cancer when they did not have cancer. He even gave them chemo.
- A doctor has been diagnosing women with MS when they did not have MS and putting them on a potentially dangerous battery of expensive medications.
- Stories about sexual misconduct by doctors when patients are under have been in the news of late.
- A priest installed a hidden camera that looks like a power outlet in the women’s restroom in his church. Before he could be brought to justice he bravely fled the country. Amen.
- I’ve always known about the existence of hypocrites yet somehow I can still feign surprise when they are dragged out and exposed to the light of day. The case of John Duggar, a hyper-energetic evangelical Christian (see Quiverfull) is interesting. On one hand he’s an upstanding member of the community and fights for causes he believes in, like the sanctity of marriage (aka “seedbed of virtue”) while serving on an organization known as the Family Research Council. On the other hand he’s paying $250 for an account on AshleyMadison.com, a web site that helps married people have affairs. Absolutely breathtaking.
- Then there’s the case of Jared Fogle, Subway pitchman and part-time child pornographer. Let’s see. What’s the tally now? Bill Cosby? Horny. Brett Favre? Horny. Anthony Weiner? Horny. Tiger Woods? Horny. John Edwards? Horny. Sandwich guy? Really, really horny. Need I continue? I think I see a trend.
My point? None, really. Except, perhaps, that people like these actually exist. They are out there. They walk among us. They are, like Mr. Rogers likes to say, some of the people in our neighborhoods.
Who has a stronger moral code than humans? Try the humble amoeba. For starters.
Bonus read: Quiverfull of Shit: a Guide to the Duggars’ Scary Brand of Christianity (Gawker.com)
Who’s Sheetin’ Who?!
Let’s Do It Kroc-Style: Boom Like That!
History is written by the victors.
–Winston S. Churchill
I have this personal pet theory. It goes a little something like this:
What do I mean by this? It’s time for a tale of hungry dogs, drowning by garden hose, buxom secretaries, altered birth certificates and who’s car is parked next door.
Such Nice Boys
We photobombed ourselves before it was cool.
As a pubic service, from time to time, I take the lyrics from hit songs, roll ’em around in my head a bit, think and ponder, and run them through the universal translator.
Do they mean something? I’ll find out.
“Hey, nonny, ding, dong!”
Yikes. Something tells me this one is going to be far too easy. As easy as drilling for oil in the quiffed pompadour of a 50s doo-wop singer.
Today’s blue plate special is a rockin’ little ditty from 1954 called Sh-Boom as performed by The Crew-Cuts.
Trivoids: Sh-Boom was originally an R&B hit for The Chords.
Sh-Boom
(excerpt)
Now every time I look at you
(hey you, across the room, i’m creepin’ from a distance)
Something is on my mind
(i’ll give you a hint, it’s sex!!)
Dat-dat-dat-dat-dat-duh
(is my clever onomatopoeia subtle enough?)
If you do what I want you to
(romance is doing what the man wants)
Baby, we’d be so fine
(by “we” i mean he who must be obeyed)
Think about these lyrics. Really think about them. I think you’ll see what I mean. If this song doesn’t make you want to Elvis your pelvis you don’t know diddly.
Elvis lyrics translated into English
The lucky sperm about to penetrate the ovum.
I have decided, as a pubic service, to run some Elvis Presley lyrics through the universal translator. I hope you enjoy these as if hearing them for the first time.
Doubt my qualifications? Don’t. I was literally married under a velvet painting of Elvis in the Graceland Wedding Chapel, Las Vegas, Nevada. (But not to my wife, mind you.) I’m qualified enough.
Now bring on the big romantic ballads…
It’s Now Or Never
It’s now or never
(Daddy is in the mood)
Come hold me tight
(I will direct the action)
Kiss me my darling
(This had better be good)
Be mine tonight
(This will decidedly not be a long-term relationship)
Tomorrow will be too late
(Parts of me are feeling blue)
It’s now or never
(No promises after the booze wears off)
My love won’t wait
(There’s a BP situation in my pants)
Wasn’t that fun? Are you feeling all romantic? Make the jump and let’s do one more.
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A Snot Across The Bow
I’ve always had the ability to sniff out Danger. Let me tell you, it does not smell good. Why do things always have to end up like this?
My mission today is to discuss Weiner and address the elephant man in the room.
I’m going to be straight with you. I’m a dude, albeit a feminized one. So I asked myself, what’s the hubbub about this man all about? Something isn’t kosher!
When I look at the face of Anthony Weiner blood rushes away from my naughty bits and leaves me with a bit of a headache. His face actually causes shrinkage.
Am I missing something? Not to put too fine of a point on it, but the Weiner is completely unattractive. I ask myself, if I woke up in the morning and found him laying on my body, what would I do? I’m forced to admit I would chew off my own arm just to get away. Trust me on this, not many humans meet that standard.
“Weiner” and “wiener” are two different things. Never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never mix them up.
–Tom B. Taker
We call it “fugly.”
Unattractive. Unbeautiful. Man Medusa. Unseemly. Repelling. Unsightly.
And yet…
So what is it? What’s the attraction? Does he have the heart of poet? A horny poet? Does he understand women to such a degree that it turns them on? Does he hot chat better than the author of 50 Shades of Grey?
Or is it merely the money? Power? Celebrity? Is it all about the unquenchable lust for 15 minutes of shame? Is this what we have come to? That life is the ultimate substitute for reality TV like the game of Survivor?
I don’t get it. Luckily I keep an airsickness bag handy for times like these.
Walk On By
You didn’t walk on by this post? You pervert.
So, yeah, Hal David recently passed away. It was on Sept. 1, 2012. I was on another WordPress blog and they were discussing his passing and that he had written many hit songs with Burt Bacharach including Walk On By. I added to the discussion and said that I was pretty sure I had mentioned that particular song on my blog in the past.
It turns out I was wrong. There are apparently at least two different songs that share that same name. Who knew? And I was remembering the other one. Of course.
You know the one, right? It was co-written by Tiger Woods, Bill Clinton, Brett Favre, and Anthony Weiner, et al. It’s a romantic little ditty about a fellow walking down the street with his new girl. Along the way he spies his former lover that he’s still in love with and he gets a touching idea. Why not have his cake and eat it, too? Keep it a secret, but give the old flame the signal that his fire still burns. In other words, he’s ready for a little nookie on the side.
Brilliant!
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