The main post is below this impromptu Lemur Life Story…
aliceteach over at DPUD has a great post about Frank Miller for Toddlers. That won’t make sense if you haven’t seen Sin City, but go watch the movie she put there.
My comment there was: At least at that age you can say “Oh, look at the funny looking rubber ball!” and almost (sometimes) get away with it.
It reminded me of a time in college when my roommates and I, in a fit of boredom and an innate desire to be obnoxious (alcohol may have been a factor), crafted in the dark of night a (anatomically correct) 7 or 8 foot tall (erect) male phallus-thing. The wording was chosen to avoid certain Google searches .
We poured bucket after bucket of water on this thing and had a layer of ice that was inches thick over the whole thing.
The next day we got pictures of each other sitting on one or the other of a pair of giant testes, and I had one of myself sitting there, proud as can be, complete with the full-arm cast I had for several months. Shown below is a very good friend from those college days, and we’ll call him… OldEnglish800… for reasons which I will not divulge at the moment.
Women were driving by our house and every few minutes a car would honk and chicks would yell “Whooooo!” It went on for hours until someone got cheesed and called the cops. We denied that it was ours and the cops decided to get in a workout with their clubs. They were extremely tired after trying to break several cubic feet of ice with nightsticks and had some firefighters come and loan them some axes. They were not too happy with us, but as future events unfolded we became much more closely involved with them. They had our number. That’s another story.
I took the picture back home for the Christmas holiday. The family was laughing over it and my grandmother comes in and says “What’s so funny?”
Immediate silence. A hush came over the room as we all panicked and thought as one, “What the hell is the right thing to say and could someone else please say it so I don’t have to?”
It got kind of awkward after about ten seconds with the ten or twelve of us sitting there as if we were Bambi frozen in the middle of the road by the Pork Chop Express’ lights.
The pressure was building… building… and suddenly my aunt jumped up explosively and said “LOOK MOM! HERE’S A PICTURE OF LEMUR SITTING ON PART OF A GIANT SNOWMAN! Isn’titsillyhowhe’soutinthesnowandcoldwithoutaproperjacketandthatcastuncovered?” Then she started hyperventilating, gasping for breath.
We held our collective breaths, waiting for the moment that our almost-octegenarian matriarch would figure it out and come unglued. Believe me, a 4′ 11″ matriarchal ungluing is not something you want to witness more than once in your life.
She turned to me, looked me squarely up and down, frowned, and said “Lemur, why are you going out in the winter without a coat? You could get pneumonia!”
I shook my head in shock and said “Well, Gram, I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I was so excited about building a snowman I forgot it. It only got down to 8F that day so it wasn’t like it was viciously cold.”
My Gram walked out of the room muttering about how terrible I was taking care of myself and again, as one, ten or twelve of us went for our drinks and had doubles.
Goes to show you – octegenariansn and toddlers can be easily deceived at times, but you can’t depend upon it.
****
Now, for the original posting material…
Titled: Oh. Yeah, this means goodbye, I guess.
Harold Camping, Doomsday Priest, has apparently stuck by his prediction that Tomorrow (Friday, October 21, 2011) will be The Day We Die.
Don McLean sings softly in the background:
Did you write the book of love,
And do you have faith in God above,
If the Bible tells you so?
I’m pretty sure that the Rev. Camping has not cleared his bank account or sold his house yet again, despite the rather obvious need to spend money like there was no tomorrow in order to save the last few souls. I’d say if he is enlightened as he says he is, it shows a remarkable lack of faith on his part when you look at the record of his behavior. I’d also say the good Rev. Camping never actually read the Book of Matthew. Just sayin’.
I started singin’,
“bye-bye, miss american pie.”
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, “this’ll be the day that I die.
“this’ll be the day that I die.”
But, wait… the old fella suffered a stroke (but didn’t die) in June, which seems awfully soon after The World That Refused to Die Event (May 21st, 2011). Does that not seem like a pretty convenient way to shutter yourself away from a world full of derision, mockery, and in the case of the gypped people, betrayed anger?
Yup! It does to me, too!
Yeah… I hear what you’re saying, Camping, but no offense… you’re a f***ing loon.
And in the streets: the children screamed,
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed.
But not a word was spoken;
The church bells all were broken.
And the three men I admire most:
The father, son, and the holy ghost,
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died.
When you look at all the nice well-intentioned folks (but stupider than a bag of hammers) that gave this screwball all their money and gave away their savings and gave up homes, it becomes obvious that another part of American Pie would seem to fit the good Rev. Doomsday.
Oh, and as I watched him on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage.
No angel born in hell
Could break that satan’s spell.
And as the flames climbed high into the night
To light the sacrificial rite,
I saw satan laughing with delight
The day the music died
Don’t read anything into this. I just really like the song and I thought it would be fun in conjunction with mocking the Doomsday Priest, is all. I’ve often wondered what McLean meant in the lyrics but I don’t obsess about it. It’s a catchy tune.
I was a Jim Beam man, after Tanqueray Gin, of course. I don’t like Rye though. Blech.
If ever we bloggers decide to have a get-together, there had better be a 3’x5′ poster of your penis snowman pic.
EPICNESS!!
I will have to scan it in to get that kind of res. And get permission from OldEnglish800 to do so, but I respect
Not his pic. YOURS!!!
What makes you think she didn’t figure it out?
I rented The Meaning of Life with a friend and my grandmother was living with us so she sat down to watch it.
Suddenly, I’m sitting there with my grandmother listening to “Every sperm is special”. I know the “Bambi in the headlights” feeling very well.
She was Italian and after 60 years in the country didn’t really speak either Italian or English (chunga was “chewing gum” for instance), but I’ve always wondered if she figured it out.
I know she hadn’t figured it out because while she had lived a long life she had no guile. She would either get it or not, and with a topic like that there is no way she would have remained silent.
I am at Pizza Slut and will reply about your movie with grandma later.
Oh, so crappy pizza is more important than my grandma and sacred sperm?
Add another reason I boycott this place.
A correction, I searched and it’s not “Every sperm is special”, it’s “Every sperm is sacred”.
Well, the reverend whasisname or whoever was absolutely right.
We’ve all died and reality has crashed. Everything is kaput.
Um….no, wait…….any second now…
Speaking of “every sperm is precious…”, a few years ago a buddy of mine’s (very young) daughter was heard singing that song the morning after he and his wife watched the flick on DVD. She was supposed to be in bed.
They gritted their teeth, refrained from saying a single thing, and *sigh of relief* she has never sang it again.
I had a cousin, college-age, but working and following the band Phish at the time. Got a nice part-time job near Arizona State University. My family had a real laugh when he tried to explain to Grandma why he was working at an all-night bookstore, in that part of town, and why she couldn’t come visit him at work.
The kind of bookstore where customers come in wearing trench coats, the covers of the books and movies are covered, and you must be 18 to enter the store or purchase merchandise.
It was like watching a cat covering poo on a concrete driveway.
Mrmacs – The kind of store where the proprietor tries to interest you in purchasing a battery-operated vagina?*
*Name that line/movie/actor.
Yes and no: Yes, that kind of store. No, I didn’t recognize the quote. A little research turns up the movie 8mm. That a winner?
Oh, and Darn you to Heck. The junk that turns up when you Google for that phrase without thinking of the implications…
Aggie, you are saying you want a picture of my penis? I cannot comply with that but I will look for the pic of me instead of OldEnglish800.
…………………….
I thought it was impossible to render you speechless and I proved myself wrong. 🙂 Also I thought I could not be proved wrong – it is a lot to assimilate.
I promise that if there is a blog get-together I will find the “Lemur next to a snow penis pic”. CW may have some suggestions as to where it might be -I probably took it out of that roll of film to show some friends a while back.
Gotta go – the cat just OD’d on catnip. She’s not moving.
My apologies if I upset you, there. Just flicking you shit.
Ask Cruel Wife – if I stop doing that, it means something is very very wrong with me.
8mm was an awful movie. Just because a sickness exists doesn’t mean you should make a movie of it. And that comes from a guy who likes Dexter.
Mrmacs – yep, the very flick. The dialog (between N, Cage and J. Phoenix) concerning the battery-operated v is hilarious for a number of reasons.
…and you should have known what you might turn up doing a search on battery-operated anythings!
LK – yes – the movie (8mm) is quite sick (its supposed to be), but the soundtrack is both extremely erotic and haunting. Its one of the very few soundtracks I have actually searched for and bought.
So there’s a good thread idea: Awesome movie soundtracks.
Here’s two: “Fifth Element” and “Dazed and Confused”.
Wait, forgot the ultimate movie soundtrack: “Heavy Metal”. The original one, of course.
Oh Brother Where Art Thou? is a surprisingly good soundtrack.
Oh, hell yes. The Heavy Metal flick soundtrack is magnificent.
I was too busy looking at whatshernames (villovilustbody?) to notice the music – except when Ruby Rod’s background music was playing. But only because whatshername wasn’t in any of those scenes.
Another good soundtrack is “Altered States”, and another (vewry stwange) one is “Ravenous”.