Wednesday, November 30, 2005

The Boba Fett of Foliage

Somewhere, sometime, the tree switched sides.

The Christmas Tree is at it again. This time it’s fighting for the other team. There’s been a lot of talk lately about the “war on Christmas.” It turns out that Christian conservatives are unhappy with the homogenization on the holiday season.

Leading the troops on the side of conservatism is Jerry Falwell. As always. He put together a legal super-squad to sue Boston over the renaming of their city’s Christmas Tree. You probably already know all this, but if you don’t, I’ll tell you. Bean Town was keen on the idea of changing their Christmas tree into a Holiday Tree. Just like that. As if by magic. They felt that the name change might help people to feel included in the holiday season. As if by magic.

Also, as if by magic, the city changed its mind. The Boston Christmas Tree remains, unchanged.

The whole idea is stupid if you ask me. I’m an atheist. I don’t have much use for religious fundamentalists. I have even less use for Jerry Falwell. But does it really matter if the name of the tree changes? Who cares. Call it a Christmas Tree (I do), don’t call it a Christmas Tree…

Jerry cares. He was on TV this morning talking about Christmas trees and what they represent. How the Christmas tree is a fundamental symbol of the birth of Christ. “It’s not a Ramadan tree” he said. Yup, I’m sure that Muslims are really bummed about that.

Man, you would think to hear Jerry go on about it, that the Christmas tree practically gave birth to little Jesus (maybe it was J’s wet nurse or something, I don’t read the Bible all that much).

Yet, it seems like only a few years ago that the Christmas tree was again on the front lines in the battle against Christmas. But in those days, Christians would have you believe that the tree was trying to put a 60 caliber round square in Jesus’ forehead. It was there in the trenches, breathing mustard gas and sharing naked pictures of pin-up girls with Santa, the Menorah, Fanoos and Kikombi Cha Umoja.

But then the Tree turned mercenary.

Now it’s fighting for the Christians. Now it’s fighting for Jerry Falwell. Now it’s Jerry symbol for the birth of Jesus.

The tree is also prophetic it turns out. It’s been around a lot longer than Jesus. In fact Jeremiah writes about it in the Old Testament (of the Bible). But he’s not as cool with it as Jerry. Here’s what Jeremiah had to say about it:

Jeremiah 10:2-4: "Thus saith the LORD, Learn not the way of the heathen, and be not dismayed at the signs of heaven; for the heathen are dismayed at them. For the customs of the people are vain: for one cutteth a tree out of the forest, the work of the hands of the workman, with the axe. They deck it with silver and with gold; they fasten it with nails and with hammers, that it move not." (King James Version)

Okay, so the Bible condemns Christmas trees. So what. That’s the Old Testament anyway. It was written by Jews. Of course they don’t like Christmas trees. Besides, it sounds like Jeremiah has more of a problem with tree bondage than anything else.

You go, Jerry. You fight that good fight. Maybe someday you’ll actually win the battle against Christmas. It’ll be saved! They might even make it a national holiday! Who knows?

But, Christmas Tree, I’m very disappointed in you. There’s blood on your hands, pal.

Really though, it’s just a freaking tree, people.

Fun Fact: A Fanoos (or Fanus) is a traditional Ramadan lantern hung by the Egyptians to celebrate the magical month. As it turns out, the Fanoos is also under fire by certain Muslim groups who feel that it is incompatible with Islam. Maybe because one of the derivation theories has it originating with Christians? Does it really matter, Muslims?

It’s just a freaking lantern, people.

The Kikombi Cha Umoja is a traditional Kwanzaa cup used for…well…drinking and pouring stuff…that is meant to symbolize the first Principal of Kwanzaa, Umoja (Unity). The principal of Umoja is to strive for and maintain unity in the family, community, nation and race.

That “race” part makes me a little uneasy (what does unity of race entail exactly?). No one is attacking the Kikombi Cha Umoja, but hey, does it really matter?

It’s just a freaking cup, people.

And if you don’t know what a Menorah is…TS.

Tuesday, November 29, 2005


Can I get some moisture in the air here please?! I’m tired of tooling around like a walking, talking Van de Graaff machine.

The weather has finally cooled off in southern California. This is great for my spirit, but it’s bad for my fingertips. I swear that if you look closely, you’ll see little singe marks at the ends of my fingernails. Is there nothing more surprising than the pain of an unanticipated electrical arc shooting from you to the doorknob (or vise versa)?

I guess that’s why they call it a shock (or vise versa).

Yes, everything I touch seems to hurt me these days. Even the simplest act of switching on the lights can be nerve racking. I get up off the sofa and before I can touch anything I have to find a way to release the static charge that comes with sitting on a cloth couch through an entire episode of Prison Break (seriously, they couldn’t at least escape before the end of the “fall finale?!” How lame. And what the hell is a “fall finale” anyway. I hate network scheduling directors).

Having to discharge my static makes me feel like I’m about to start working on volatile explosives. But at least at the “volatile explosives factory” they have chambers and such. They way they discharge their static is a bit more…graceful…than mine.

I just have to find something metal…and then grab it as fast as I can before it “bites me.”

This process may not be fancy, but it works. Sure I look like an idiot. But I look like a bigger idiot when I jump back three feet just because my shoulder accidentally brushed against the rabbit ears on the television.

I need cable.

And don’t even get me started on the terror I face just getting in and out of the car.

Stupid static electricity. I’ll bet it’s getting back at me for never doing a demonstration on it in grade school science class. I’m sorry!

I’m scared of balloons.

Fun Fact: Static electricity causes a spark because negatively charged electrons in one material are attracted to the atoms in the other material that have an excess positive charge.

Opposites attract.

I guess that’s why I continue to touch Tanya even though she shocks the hell out of me every time. But the shocks had better stop soon. Even a lab rat learns its lesson after a while. I feel like I’m being conditioned.

“TAM, why did you and Tanya break up?”

“I don’t know really. It was an exceptionally dry month. After a while I just lost all desire to make any kind of contact with her. In fact, the prospect of it became frightening and debilitating.”

“Oh, sorry man, that’s so sad.”

“Yeah, she was a cool chick. Anyway, thanks for your concern. Hey, while you’re here, could you turn on my lights and start my car for me?”

Oh, and the latest TAM Cartoon is up! Shockalicious!

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

What a Load of Crap

Say you. Not so, say I. There is nothing crappy about the fantastic TAM Merchandise that I purchased for myself at the TAM Holiday Café Press Store.

In fact, here is a picture of some of it.

That, my friends, is a Mr. Gnomertote (for all your notable totables), a Mr. Gnomerton’s First Christmas women’s ringer tee (festive), a Magic of Christmas large-sized mug (perfect for drinking coffee with those new holiday flavored creamers from Coffee Mate – I recommend the Pumpkin and the Peppermint Mocha – they’re quite tasty) and a Mr. Gnomerton’s First Christmas tile coaster (because getting a wet ring on your IKEA furniture can be deadly).

All of these fine products came quickly and are of a quality much higher than I actually expected. Really, what do you expect from a “make-it-as-it’s-ordered” online store? But don’t be scared. There’s a reason that Café Press has done so well for itself. They sell good crap. It’s just the quality of the actual images printed on that good crap that’s the gamble. And since you already know the quality of the TAM Cartoon there should be no fear.

Wait. Forget about the quality of the TAM Cartoon. Go ahead and order some junk. It’s reasonably priced.

What’s with this constant sales pitch, you ask? Are you trying to make money by guilting your friends into buying stuff?


Is this some kind of pyramid scheme, you wonder?


Are you just some kind of horrible narcissist?



Fun Fact: Thanksgiving is tomorrow. I just wanted to remind you in case you’d forgotten. I don’t want to hear “dude, I totally spaced on Thanksgiving this year! Why didn’t you remind me?!”

It’s tomorrow – weirdo.

Monday, November 21, 2005

Early Bird Special

I’m posting the latest TAM Cartoon today! One day early! Yowza!

You may be thinking to yourself, “TAM has a regular cartoon posting schedule?” the answer is…yes. Pay attention!

I just thought that since this is another Thanksgiving themed cartoon and Thanksgiving is coming very soon, I had better get it up now so that it can be “enjoyed” before the holiday instead of after. Looking at a Thanksgiving cartoon after Thanksgiving is over is annoying. Like when people leave their Christmas trees up until February.

Don’t leave your Christmas trees up until February. The only people with an excuse are those poor shut-ins who die and no one notices until months later when neighbors become aware only because the mail starts piling up and the neighborhood cats look healthier and more satisfied. They can’t really help it. So unless you’re dead, take that tree down by late January – at the least.

The lights though are another story. Live the Yuletide spirit all year long with festive Christmas lights!

Live it!

Fun Fact: Tanya reads magazines backwards. I don’t know why. I guess she doesn’t care if she ruins the ending.

Spoiler Alert!

The Absolute Vodka did it.

Friday, November 18, 2005

Master of the Obvious

That's me.

Yesterday, I actually saw Star Wars Episode III for the first time.

It sucked.

Fun Fact: George Lucas is a bad screenwriter.

Speaking of bad screenwriters, don’t forget to visit my TAM store and pick up some great holiday crap! How’s that for a sales pitch?!

Man, I feel like the Willy Lowman of internet commerce. Hold on, I'm just going to jump in my car...

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Pig in a Poke

That title either means that it’s another “grab bag” post today…or that I’m a fatty in a sack.

Perhaps both are true? Thanks to my new diet however, the former is more true than the latter. Here we go.

Gravity and GAP Have Conspired to Make Me Look Like a Perv

I’ve always been a huge proponent of calling people before you show up at their doorstep. Really, it’s just common courtesy. After all, you don’t know what people are doing at home at any given moment. Luckily, my friends never show up without calling first. They’re just good people. At least that’s what I suspect since none of them ever show up (oh, how sad).

Now, I never show up an-announced, true. But my nature being what it is, I’ve shown up plenty of times early. Sometimes extremely early. I’m talking “sitting on the curb outside their place for 10 minutes trying to find that balance of being early but not obscenely early” early. And I’ve gotten that distinct feeling that I’ve interrupted people before. That feeling when you can tell that something has just happened, but you don’t know what.

“Oh, my host’s face is flushed, they seem nervous and out-of-breath. Either they were crying or…let’s just pretend they were crying…all alone.”

I’m sure that you’ve gotten this feeling before. We all have. But why is that? Do we expect our friends to be a bunch of depraved deviants, just getting in one “quick one” before their buddys show up? Or is it that irrational fear that someday it will actually happen that makes us suspicious? Or is it perhaps that we know how we behave that makes us wary? In any case, it’s not your host’s problem is it?

Anyway, yesterday I got a call from Kevin. I had some stuff of his here that I borrowed and have been trying to get back to him before Tanya throws me out (for some reason she doesn’t like to dine with a Digital Video Deck on the dinner table…go figure). So, as I said, he called yesterday.

“Hey I just got back from my audition and thought that I could stop by, pick up my DV deck and hang out for a little while.”

“Sure, I’m not doing anything…when? Where are you?

“In your driveway. I can come back later if you want.”

“No, come on up.”

Hey, he did call before he knocked, right? And he offered to come back later. But you can’t really tell people to come back later. It makes it sounds like you’re doing something you shouldn’t.

And I wasn’t. I was just sitting here trying to find some recording software. Nothing seedy…or even interesting. But still, I wasn’t exactly prepared for a guest. I have to at least try to look cool, right? Look at least put-together. But I wasn’t. I did some quick cleaning and opened the door for him…a little late.

No big deal. We sat around and talked for a bit. I gave him his stuff. He left.

Now, I don’t know if it’s my brain playing tricks on me after the fact, but he seemed a little uncomfortable. Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. But I got the distinct feeling that he thought that he had interrupted something. And since I was home alone

Why am I worried about it, you ask? Normally, I wouldn’t be. But I was wearing a pair of pants that I got at the GAP. I don’t wear these pants very often so I had failed to notice that they have one very annoying…quirk. A quirk that I have absolutely no control over.

After Kevin left, to my horror, I noticed that my pants had done it to me again…my zipper was down.

So much for looking put-together.

So much for not looking like a pervert.

Maybe he didn’t notice?

No, he noticed. I just know it. Damnit.

Snowman Jam

No, not preserves made from Frosty’s peeps. Tanya got me a great present yesterday. One that I was very excited about. I would say that I’m a little embarrassed to mention it but I just got done telling you that I hung out with my friend while my pants offered a grotesque window to my beanie-weenies. So this is nothing.

Tanya got me the singing snowman from Hallmark. Maybe you’ve seen the commercials. It’s cheap if you buy three greeting cards. So Tanya bought three greeting cards…and I got a new friend. One who won’t judge me if I don’t zip up every once in a while.

Who cares if he sings like Dean Martin on helium, he’s a fine piano player (and singing like Dean Martin, even on helium, can never be that bad).

We jammed.

He rocks. Thanks, Tanya.

Fun Fact: It’s weekly weigh-in time! I’ve been on the South Beach diet for exactly one week so far. Last week at this time I weighed 184 pounds (at least that’s what my scale says; the gym scale has a different agenda).

It’s been a week of eating meat, cheese and lots and lots of vegetables. And inadvertently cheating twice. I had an apple (really, how pathetic! How do you cheat with an apple?! I forgot that in the first two weeks you’re not supposed to have fruit) and last night I had a glass of white wine (I forgot about that too, it was an ingredient in the Cornish game hens that I was making and if I hadn’t drank it then, it would have sat around until it was undrinkable).

But now I weigh…drumroll…a big 175!

Hey, that’s 9 pounds! That’s “Biggest Looser” numbers there. Only 5 more to go. But I still need to loose my belly. I swear, I’m the only person on Earth who can be fat and skinny at the same time.

NASA should study me.


Tuesday, November 15, 2005


There’s a reunion going on here at The Anthropomorphic Male today. A reunion between you…and the Tam Cartoon! Yes, finally, the latest one is here! Lazycartoonistastic!

Like every good reunion, it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other. At least the latest incarnation of each other. You used to be BFFs, but somehow, you’ve drifted apart. I don’t know about you, but the TAM Cartoon was thinking about not coming to this thing. It said that it felt fat. I worried that while you’d been doing wonderful things with your life; it was just sitting around, stuck in some kind of rut. After all, it has never left its home town. But that’s nothing to be ashamed of, is it? Sometimes people and cartoons just have different priorities. Not everyone can be an astronaut or a famous movie star. At least that’s what the TAM Cartoon keeps telling itself. So it simply put itself on the South Beach diet for a couple weeks, thought of ways to make sitting around at home sound like an exciting occupation, bit the bullet and showed up.

And hey, really it’s been too long. You guys should keep in touch better. Make a pledge to write to each other more often. And hey, who knows, maybe you’ll see ach other again at the next reunion.

Fun Fact: This was one lame post. And I have never attended a reunion. I’ve been out of high school now for about 14 years (good god, really?!). Not one reunion. But what did I expect? I mean most of my classmates couldn’t figure out how to use the soda machine. And yet I expect them to organize a reunion?

Ah, public education.

Oh, and don’t forget to pick up your TAM Merchandise on the way out (follow the links on the right of this page). It’s cheap. It’s fast. It’s “cool.”


Friday, November 11, 2005

Shameless, Baby!

Hey, I’ve got TAM merchandise here! Well, not here exactly. But if you’ll follow the links to the right under “TAM Merchandise” you’ll be whisked away to paradise.

That is, if your idea of paradise is buying crappy TAM merchandise.

If you have any requests, let me know.

Go ahead and buy. Eric did. And he’s super cool! Especially since he’s the only person on earth that owns TAM merchandise. But don’t feel bad for him, just because you buy some, it won’t make him less cool. He’ll still be the first ever to own a TAM coffee mug!

Thanks, Eric. You’re way cool. And did I mention cool?


Thursday, November 10, 2005

I Want to See Less of Myself These Days

At least I’d like to see less of my midsection. That’s why I’ve put myself on a diet. I’ve always struggled with my weight. By that, I mean that when I’m a fatty, I struggle to lift myself. And while it’s not as bad as all that, I’m firing a preemptive strike here.

And I’m trying a weight-loss plan that I’ve never tried before. I’ve done the vegetarian/bagels and Taco Bell/1200 calories a day diet (lost 100 pounds on that one…I don’t recommend it). I’ve tried “Atkins” (by which I mean that I cut out carbs. I didn’t actually follow the legitimate plan. Lost 20 pounds on that one in about a month…gained back 40 pounds in about three days). I’ve even done Weight Watchers by proxy (I’ve decided that one can’t lose weight on any diet done by proxy…but you can gain a few).

This time it’s The South Beach Diet (the actual, real-deal plan). It’s pretty much a conglomeration of all those previous diets except without vegetarianism, bagels and Taco Bell (really, that diet is just bad news).

I’ve decided (right at this moment) to go ahead and share my successes and failures with you on this blog. I know that the first question you have when you wake up in the morning is “how much weight has TAM lost this week?” Now you don’t have to wonder. The answers will be yours.

At the moment I’m 6’ tall and weigh 185 pounds.

I don’t really expect to lose any height (at least I hope not, but I’m pretty sure that’s not what they’re talking about when they promise that you’ll lose inches), but I wanted to put things in perspective.

My goal is to lose about 15-20 pounds. Do I really need to go to such extremes to lose a measly 15 pounds? Yes, I do. It’s always hardest to lose those last “few” pounds. That’s why I get so frustrated when I see shows like the biggest looser. Sure, a 400 pound dude can drop 150 pounds pretty easily. Hell, his body is begging for it. I think that it actually takes more energy to become 400 pounds than it does to not. But that’s an extreme. I tell you from experience that it’s damn easy to get to 265. And you can get to 200 before you realize it.

As an actor, I’m in no man’s land. I’m too thin to be the “fat” guy and I’m too fat to be the “cool best friend guy.” By the way, I’m too goofy looking to be the “lead guy”…and too terrified to be the “young father.”

I’ve been the “fat” guy before and I’m none too eager to go back to that.

That’s why the preemptive strike. Wish me luck. I’ll keep you posted (I know, it’s your dream isn’t it?) And if you’re in a supportive mood, why not visit Mike and Tanya’s blog and support them too.

Fun Fact: As I said a couple days ago, I just finished shooting a short. I dressed the set for it with various pieces of furniture that I found on the side of the street.

For those of you who don’t know, people in LA don’t throw furniture away. They don’t donate it either. They just put it out on the street to picked up by whoever wants it. It’s an ugly system (most of the stuff is just crap), but for the most part it works…and hey, I got some cool furniture for the short out of it.

Anyway, when the short was over, I returned the two stuffed chairs that I found to their street-side home. This morning while I was on my walk, I saw those two chairs again. They had sat out in the rain and looked pretty horrible (I had cleaned them up for the shoot).

And then it hit me…guilt. I felt bad for leaving these chairs out in the cold like that. After all, they had helped me out in my time of need. I know, they’re freaking chairs. But somehow, as I walked past them, dripping and dirty, I could swear that they were giving me “puppy dog eyes.”

And for a second – just a second – I was tempted to bring them back home and let them live in my carport again (as a kid, I used to kick rocks home from school and then feel bad for just leaving them. I ended up with an unhealthy collection of “kicking rocks”). Then I remembered that they were chairs. And that they were heavy (I’ve already logged more than enough mileage around town, looking goofy, carrying them on my head). And, most importantly, I remembered that they were wet.

I ain’t carrying a wet stuffed chair for nobody, pal.

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

You Gotta Have Friends

I’ve always said that I would rather have good friends than money or material goods. Especially if those friends give me cash and cool stuff.

I spent this past weekend directing my latest short film, The Social Club. If you want to know what kind of friends you have, direct a no-budget short with them. Ask them to sacrifice a ton of their time. Ask them to spend their own hard-earned money on coffee and gasoline (hell, what are they going to need it for anyway, you’ve already destroyed their entire weekend, right?). Ask them to drive to the valley. Ask them to breathe artificial fog into their lungs for 36 hours. While you’re at it, why not ask them to borrow thousands and thousands of dollars of production equipment, or a home worth more money than you’ll probably see in the next 15 years (especially if you continue to direct no-budget shorts).

On top of all that, ask them to do it with the only the promise of a credit like “set photographer,” “grip,” “boom operator,” “grip/eye-blackener/beat-up dude in chair,” “cardboard taperer-to-windower,” “chili-maker/makeup/fog wrangler,” “light designer/A.D./b-roll director/hijack victim,” “homeowner/cleaning lady,” “put-upon D.P./editor/furniture mover.”

Well, there’s the credit…and my undying appreciation.

Hopefully the credit will be worth something someday anyway.

But things went great. I really do want to thank everyone that helped out. I can never repay you. I repeat: I can never repay you. So don’t ask.

Directing is a lot like giving birth I suspect. There’s a great deal of discomfort involved, you don’t get a lot of sleep before and during the process, in the heat of it all you can say snarky things that you don’t really mean, there’s a fear that the thing that bursts from your creative loins will be some hideous purple space alien-looking thing that looks less like it’s parents and more like its long-deceased great great aunt Maivis (present tense) – and it’s practically guaranteed that you won’t remember the pain after it’s all said and done.

Now, while I can’t guarantee that the finished product won’t have “alien-baby” syndrome, I can say that this project was the most pleasant one that I’ve had the privilege to work on. And, yes, I have forgotten the pain. In just a day or so. That’s some kind of record.

I tell you, it’s really easy during a shoot to say “I’m never going to direct ever again!” Let me say from experience that it’s way easier to delude yourself into thinking that the next one is going to win an Oscar.

Show me to that Academy Award (the one for best short under $400).

Fun Fact: In the 1960 movie "Psycho" by Alfred Hitchcock, Hitch used chocolate syrup for blood in the shower scene. On the set of the movie “The Social Club,” chocolate syrup was not used for blood…

…because I forgot it at home.

Thursday, November 03, 2005

The Vice is Right

I’m a smoker. It’s not something that I’m necessarily proud of. It’s bad. Any 5-year-old could tell you that. Ask a 5-year-old about smoking cigarettes and chances are that they’ll look at you as if you had just said a dirty word. Poophead.

I wonder how a 5-year-old feels about wine coolers?

ABC News, in a noble attempt to get more people to quit smoking and keep potential addicts from ever starting, has implemented a new health series called “Quit to Live.” Every night on the evening news they’ll do a little story about the dangers of smoking.

Last night, the danger they reported on was the tobacco industry itself.

See, Big Tobacco is targeting our children. Yes, again. This time they’re doing it in new and more clever ways. Tobacco marketing campaigns are the stuff of legend. It seems that no mere mortal is impervious to their genius strategies. Why are they seen in this light? Well, because so many people have died from cigarette smoking that it would seem completely unbelievable that new smokers would ever pick up the habit. And yet they do pick up the habit. People continue to smoke. It has to be because of Big Tobacco’s revolutionary and devious marketing strategies, right?

I mean people can’t be that stupid could they?

Why can’t we just call smokers stupid? I know I am. Smokers are stupid. Smoking is stupid.

Calling the Tobacco companies “evil geniuses” is stupid.

As I said, ABC news was critical of the tobacco industry last night for marketing cigarettes to our children. Even in this post Joe Camel world. How are they doing it you ask? What unbelievably evil scheme has the tobacco industry implemented to push nicotine to the kiddies? It’s a plan so fiendishly clever that it has gripped the attention of the world.

They’ve lowered prices, they’re offering freebies and they’re making flavored cigarettes.

What will those evil geniuses think of next?!

And so specific to children! I know, as an adult, that I have no use really for free, inexpensive or good-tasting things. That’s why we have Starbucks. Adults like to drink $5 latés that taste like drywall.

Damn you Big Tobacco! Lets just keep the cigarettes tasting like the inside of a chimney. And god forbid you should try to keep the price down. The next time I see a “buy two packs, get a third pack free” promotion at the 7-11, I’m going to throw my Slurpie right in the cashier’s Hindu face!

But seriously. I don’t want to defend the tobacco companies. But let’s be fair here. Adults do enjoy flavored cigarettes. Ever been to a pipe shop? That place is like a smoker’s candy store. And they’re not new. Flavored cigarettes aren’t new. Sure, kids will enjoy a good “Mandarin Mint” smoke every once in a while. After all, nothing compliments a luke-warm beer served in a plastic keg cup like a flavored cigarette. But let’s not relegate all “flavored things” to the kids. I enjoy good things too much. (Like cartoons. Another thing that has been completely handed over to the tykes. If it’s animated…it must be for kids, what with the vibrant colors and all)

And since when did the children get the monopoly on all inexpensive things? The experts on ABC News claimed that since “kids smoke more when the cigarettes are less expensive,” the “lower prices” of cigarettes promotes smoking specifically to kids.

Excuse me?

Really, though, this has all gotten out of hand. Until it’s made illegal, tobacco companies have the right to promote their product (not to kids of course). I don’t care if you like it or not (I hate Miracle Whip but they still sent me a coupon for it). Let’s not be hypocrites here. If you want to go after Big Tobacco, fine. Go for it. Tell the world about the evils of smoking. You wouldn’t be lying. But let’s not stretch the truth about it just to create a sensationalized hatred for the tobacco companies. There are so many things to hate the tobacco companies for, we don’t need to create reasons.

And what about liquor? Why have I not seen a single news story about Schnapps? So many wonderful flavors. So easy to get drunk off of. Wine coolers? They’re essentially melted snow-cones for slutty chicks, right? Flavored vodkas and gins? Cocktails? And even if kids are too lazy to make a decent cosmopolitan, they can get them now, pre made, in cans. Tasty.

The last time I checked, no high school kid ever smoked one too many vanilla flavored cigarettes and ended up getting pregnant or falling off a roof or crashing their car into a mini-van full of pre-schoolers.

Isn’t smoking bad enough on its own? Do we really need the hellfire and brimstone?

Fun Fact: Wall-Mart has a new commercial touting their dedication to community and the veterans. On it they have a WWII veteran talking about how much he likes Wal-Mart. And he should like it, after all he works there. He’s really old. He can barely walk. But he works a Wal-Mart. I’ll bet that nobody else would hire him.

How nice that after driving prices so low with foreign goods that employers can’t afford to pay retirement benefits to their long-term employees and still compete in the marketplace, Wal-Mart had the heart to give this 80-year-old man a job so that he can work until he drops dead.

Yeah Wal-Mart!

I need a cigarette (I'll take a menthol, it's not really a flavor, it's been grandfathered out of the flavor category).

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

Gimme That Old Time Fun

The kind where we stay home.

Of course, now that I’ve typed that, I can’t get Grandpa Simpson out of my head. Now to the point…

There’s something really great about old-timey radio broadcasts. Abbot and Costello, Buck Rogers, Itchy and Scratchy (Eleanor Roosevelt did the voice of Scratchy during the war). I actually remember them from my childhood. Not because they were actually on. My mom was a huge fan.

Plus, when I was in the second grade or so, we moved into a big old house in Deer Park, Washington. It was creepy. In my bedroom closet (which was inexplicably attached to my mother’s closet, it was like a secret passageway…with clothes on the floor…I’m a slob) I found a cassette tape that was left by the previous tenant. A great old chiller called “Only the Dead Die Twice,” an episode from the infamous inner Sanctum series (give it a listen). I listened to that old thing all the time. In fact, the only time I would switch it out was to listen to my “Scooby Doo” radio drama (yes, it really existed but with different voices, on the tape I had they were busting counterfeiters). Or sometimes I would have to acquiesce to my sister and listen to “Thumbelina” or Strawberry Shortcake (I’m the Peculiar Purple Pie Man from Porcupine Peak, cha cha cha cha cha cha ch-cha cha cha!).

Anyway, I have since nurtured a big soft spot for radio shows. So you can imagine my thrill when I came across this on the net today while I was looking for something else. It’s amazing. I really only find cool stuff on the internet when I’m looking for something else. Rarely do I ever set out to find cool stuff. I forget that there is actually worthwhile crap on the web. I mean besides this blog, porn and video game cheat codes.

If you find yourself bored today, why not listen to an episode or two of the old Abbot and Costello show? They have really cheesy jokes. Some of which are just itching for a comeback.

Fun Fact: Charles Herrold of San Jose, California was the first person to broadcast a regular radio show. As a professor, his first broadcasts consisted mostly of his students playing popular records for their friends.

Herrold was on the air daily from 1909 to 1917 and didn’t give away a single U2 concert ticket.