From the Comments:
Jenlyn says: How dare you be such a pompous jerk about the Watchmen movie. Not only nerds want to see it. I was in line at the supermarket the other day and overheard an elderly lady expressing her fond opinion of it to the cashier. You aren't even considering the size and diversity of the audience that it will bring, so instead of criticizing something that you will pay nine dollars for anyway, shut up and let the world enjoy one of the most-hyped up movies of the year.
Sen. Barack Obama spoke yesterday at the American Airlines Overhaul Base, but I have a friend who says he also worked out alongside a giant Secret Service detail at the Scott Fitness location in the West Crossroads early in the morning. Seriously, and no joking, you guys. She missed him by about 20 minutes, bringing to a grand total of eight her near-brushes with famous people she missed by just a few minutes, including Bill Murray, Jaleel White, JM J. Bullock and former Health and Human Services Secretary Tommy Thompson. All at various Scott Fitness locations!
After the jump, some stuff I worked on all morning, as a kind of hobby. Click here, or on this photographic metaphor of me working on Internet blogs:
"Free Mumia Abu Jamal for the 10th caller." Sometimes when I'm trying to figure out how to stretch one paycheck across two Fridays or doing other responsible shit like pouring my used motor oil in the sewer on a hot afternoon or doing my taxes, also on a hot afternoon, I occasionally miss being in prison. For all the bad stuff you've heard about it, at least you don't have any responsibilities. I learned the hard way not to volunteer for anything responsible like laundry, the library or working as Mumia Abu Jamal's sidekick on his Prison Radio show. Which is what I did the summer before I got transferred to Leavenworth.
Back in those days, Mumia's show was a "Morning Zoo" format, and we'd do things like make "Krazy Kalls" to the prison chaplain asking him to pray for nonexistent prisoners over the phone. It made the time pass a little quicker and a little easier for the cons whenever they heard the chaplain say, "Dear Lord in heaven, please bestow your blessings of hope and perseverance and relieve the pain of your faithful servant, Mike Hunt," live on the air. We'd phone Leonard Peltier at the Lewisburg Penitentiary and tell him he'd been granted a new trial. Lots of Top 40 music, lots of merch giveaways. I worked the soundboard and laughed at all of Mumia's jokes.
The show got shut down by the feds in 1998. A couple of FCC commissioners actually went deep undercover by committing a minor felony so they could get arrested and incarcerated. It had to seem real, you know? So they beat up a hooker. Their investigation ultimately determined that Mumia was taking kickbacks from the major record labels, who smuggled in cartons of cigarettes, which are like money on the inside, and envelopes stuffed with cash, which are also like money on the inside, in exchange for putting Brandy and Monica, Ol' Dirty Bastard and Xscape into heavy rotation on Prison Radio. 1998, you guys. You think Mumia cared? He was on death row, yo. The Mumia Morning Zoo was canceled and replaced with a call-in show, Shank Talk, with Richard Ramirez, which is still on the air as far as I know. Mumia had to pay a hefty fine, just like Kansas City, Missouri, Mayor Mark Funkhouser's fine from the Missouri Ethics Commission for campaign finance irregularities. You see how I brought that whole thing home with a local news link? I am the king of the epic-length segue. Seriously, they should program novelty Billy Bass robotic fish to read these things aloud, because they would sell millions of them.
"Indiana Jones, searchin' for some stones..." This video comes with a whole fake diegetic narrative about having been lost since 1984 and only just now being recovered and shared with the world, but my pretending muscles are all worn out from from my back-to-back performances as Mother Superior Mary Regina in the Lenexa Repertory Dinner Theater production of Nunsense last week. So fuck all that. These guys are not 1984 guys, they are 2008 guys, and are probably geniuses or something.
Also, I know pop songs stopped coming with mid-song raps about "Chaka Khan, lemme feel for you," or "Ronnie, Bobbie, Ricky and Mike," but maybe someday they'll start doing it again. Nicely packed, bag boy.
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Good Lord, what happened in here? This is just the kind of mess that will set Mr. Briefs's bowtie spinning! Quickly, quickly--everyone look normal before he gets back!
INDY!
(SCREAM!)
INNNNNNNNDYYYYYYYYY!
(Is attacked by bat.)
INNNNNNNNDYYYYYYYYY!
(Is lowered into pit of fire.)
INNNNNNNNDYYYYYYYYY!
(Is no longer cast in major-studio pictures, and has to settle for:)
INNNNNNNNDIEEEEEEE!
doctah Jones, you want to chase some alien skulls? and maybe get blown up by a nuke? no? then-- wait!-- come here, drink from this skull, and enter the BLACK SLEEP OF LUCAS.
you too, Spielberg.
I'm with you, Chris: I don't know why nobody wants to talk about that video. It's definitely the best YouTube piece I've seen in the past 5 minutes. Thanks for sharing!
Mola Ram Suta Ram
Mola Ram Suta Ram
Mola Ram Suta Ram
Mola Ram Suta Ram
Ack! My heart!
And I thought joining this tiny cult in a basement would lead us to world dominatioARRGGHHH!
Wait, whuuut? Which part was cold? By "last part," do you mean "the part that is not actually last?" Because I am sincere in my admiration for the Indiana Jones song.
How sweet is it to have generated the first Plogspawn? In your faces, wumble and gus!!
Anyway, it seems that there is a chance to capitalize on this desire to be me. I am in development of a MMORPG where you can make up an avatar and quest to achieve different levels of Trevor. The boss mobs will be based on Pitch writers and their minions will all be based on �Clothes Whores� photos. To smite these bad guys, you must beat them over the dome with a variety of objects, innuendo, commentary, and rhetoric until they get off their lazy fat asses and produce worthwhile journalism, which you then praise them for until they eventually resort to their lazy ways and you do it again. Beta testing will begin sometime in 2009.
Also in development is a collectable card game and role playing game.
Chris,
The proof is in (the)Trevor pudding: the cretin who Plogjacked me earlier could not have possibly known that I do have Internet access at work. No way any sad and lonely nerdy IT boy blocks (the)Trevor!
And, for your further edification, I have no more need of interns than Christopher Walken does more cow bell.
As for Indiana Jones, screw that: I'm off to Buca di Beppo to steal the photo of Mother Superior Mary Regina sitting around in a nursing home watching Wheel of Fortune.
Ciao!
My minor brush-ins were with Carrot Top and Steven Tyler - no joke. Guess I should start working out at that gym and improve the quality of brush-ins.
so, wait, someone's pretending to be Trevor? that makes sense. i'm always telling the girls at shoneys that I'm e. thomas mcclanahan. that's all it takes and I am in, boy.
Which one is fake, all the trevors sound the same to me.
I have no time to listen to such songs. Well, that and the IT Nazis at work prevent access.
Thus, please, minons that steal my name, listen to it and provide comment.
Sheesh, being a icon is tough ass work, but I never thought I would have to delegate my Plogsponsibilities.
Maybe I need minion interns? Who wants in? I promise fair, but strict treatment, Facebook-free work environment, and dark alley medical and dental coverage.
Okay, okay, you guys, but what about the Indiana Jones song? God, it's like nobody wants to talk about anything important.
I once saw Lewis Black at a Plaza bar. I swear, the hottie blondie he was with was totally an escort.
Chris,
Shank Talk, with Richard Ramirez
I want to apologize for not mentioning in the Plogjacked post above how genius that phrase is.
That is all: any subsequent comment on this post will be yet another cheap Plogjack.
Chris, why don�t you provide an alarm handle in your real writing like you do in your photographic metaphor of the same? Methinks it would add significantly to your message today if that handle could be pulled thereby setting off the sprinkler system and you performing �Flashdance� moves, only in a prison shower with Funky and Urkel.
Alas, I did get your metaphor about Obama �pouring oil in the sewer on a hot afternoon�. It did more harm than good, was an abuse of discretion, and short cut proper way of disposing garbage. Yet, it was syrupy, a fun way to waste time, and ultimately had little effect on the grand scheme of things. Well played, old chap!
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