Category: entertainment

Bought The Farm In 2007

I don’t know why but every year that passes I reflect on those who are not here to see the new turn of the calender. Call me morbid, call me a sad sack, call me what you will but I always try to mention to anyone who will listen the great people who have died so that at least their spirit will be here to see 2008 arrive. Here are a few of the shocks of 2007 for me. I hope I can do them justice but if you read VeggieMacabre often enough you know I may be a little lowbrow.

Lady Bird Johnson: 1912 -2007. I don’t know too much about her life other than her thrust into First Lady status with her husband, the former President Lyndon Johnson. Every time a first lady passes I always think about the Secret Service guys/gals who have done something below standard in their career to have protection duty of a first lady. I imagine coming back to headquarters for reassignment maybe something like the pet detectives of the LAPD. It is an important job but it is still funny.

Coincidentally the dog on King Of The Hill, Ladybird, also passed away on the same day.

Evel Knievel: 1938 – 2007. I figured this guy was “circling the drain” but like any kid of the early eighties who had many Evel Knievel toys and t-shirts, it is always sad to see a legend die. They say he died of natural causes. I think it would have been fitting to see him do one more stunt and depart the Earth the way he should have done 1000 times before. They should have at least shot his casket over the Grand Canyon. (Now I am truly going to Hell.)

Calvert DeForest: 1921-2007. What a guy. He was a long time pop culture hero and a David Letterman favorite of mine. He always posed the question of gender to many people but to me it was always a question of teeth. First off did he have any and if he did, how small where they? Did he eat plankton? Well, at least this picture can clear up that question for me.

Joel Siegel: 1943-2007. This one turned me on my ear. Joel was always the voice of the cinema for me and by and large we agreed. Except he canned Beetlejuice and it was tough to talk dad into going after that review. Regardless, he was my favorite part of Good Morning America (sorry Lunden) and he left us much too early after losing the fight to colon cancer. I give cancer a thumbs down and a middle finger up.

Dick Wilson (Mr. Whipple): 1916-2007. “Can you squeeze it?” Another icon gone but not forgotten. He embodied the importance of sqeezey soft toilet paper that as a child, forced me to hug every package of Charmine to insure Mr. Whipple wasn’t full of shit. I was wondering how I would tie in toilet paper with shit and there you go.

Tom Poston: 1921-2007. This was unexpected too. I remember watching Newhart with dad in the livingroom while he did push-ups as I sat on his back. Besides of course “I’m Larry, this is my brother Daryle and this is my other brother Daryle” I only really remember Tom. He seemed like the one actor that was a really nice guy and possibly an ice fisherman. He just strikes me as one.

The Fabulous Moolah: 1923-2007. She was the female thunder of the WWE. Her thirty year career of semi-kicking ass led her to the longest title holder in any professional sport. Maybe it is the feminist in me but she could kick Sting’s ass any day of the week. When I was little I had Wrestling pals which were pillows with arms shaped like your favorite wrestler. The neighbors older sister was always Moolah and she repeatedly fucked us up to the point that I gave up any hopes as a career WWE wrestler. I just couldn’t get over that hump.

Brad Delp:1951-2007. Oh Brad, why did you have to leave us? Not like that! If you are not familiar with Brad Delp he was the master mind and beautiful vocalist for the band Boston. I will never forget listening to their first album and I was just blown away. That is really all I could say….blown away. If you don’t have that album go buy it. Go buy it right now and listen to it with headphones. It will change you.

Brad committed suicide. He left us with questions and no answers other than his talent not being recognized for what it was. I will admit when I heard of his tragic end I sat in my car and shed a few tears. He was my Lennon.

Robert Goulet:1933-2007. “Goulet!” I must admit that I was never a huge fan of Robert Goulet until Will Farrel’s SNL impersonation. Actually, anyone my age is probably in the same boat. I do remember him as the potential investor, Maxi Dean, in the movie Beetlejuice but other than that…nope. His legacy will live on through many elderly ladies who remember Robert on his Broadway hit, Hamlet. And of course many early 30 year olds who sing “The Thong Song” with Goulet vocals.

Yvonne De Carlo: 1922-2007. I know this picture doesn’t do her justice but this chick was beautiful. She (to me) was best known as her role on the TV series, The Munsters but her filmography stretches from here to Indonesia. She has been in more films including one of my favorite 1977 occult classics, Satan Cheerleaders. If you ever star in a movie with a title like that you will always be a star to me.

Tammy Faye *: 1942-2007. As far as TV evangelists Tammy was the most famous to me. I always thought of her as a pioneer in the plastic surgery field and there was something to be said for that because she was the most popular Halloween costume of the eighties. That maybe a stretch but in my neighborhood that costume didn’t lead to a bag full of raisins and pennies, I can promise you. I do feel bad because I saw her last interview and she looked so frail. I take everything I said back after that. I wonder where TV evangelists go when they die? They would kind of be old news up there, don’t you think?

Richard Jeni: 1957-2007. Another candle blown out too soon by his own accord. It always makes me especially sad when a comedian dies before their time. They spend most of their lives filling ours with laughter and joy and we never see it coming when they go. Apparently he was diagnosed with severe paranoia and depression and took his own life. I will miss this guy because his stand up is something to stand up for.

Dan Fogelberg: 1951-2007. Not a dude you can bang your head to but definitely a dude you could get laid to. That sounded bad. You know what I mean. His folk music was so melodic it would be instant death if you were driving through the night but in the right spot, nothing beats it. If the moon is right and if you hold your hand to your ear facing east, you will faintly hear me singing “Leader of the Band” on Karaoke night at Smith’s Old Bar. He passed from prostrate cancer just weeks ago. I hate cancer.

I know many others have been lost in 2007 but these few have impacted me in someway and I wanted to share. So in some conversation in the future, bring them up. Maybe they can still be with us in 2008 if nothing more than spirit and memories. I want to thank them all and send my deepest condolences to the families. You guys made life great before 2007 and will make it great for many years to come. That’s pretty cool when you think about it.

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Duck Fight

Life has taken a few twists and turns over the past month. I guess that is why I haven’t been writing as frequently as I used to. But yesterday afternoon I had a bit of a creative awakening. I have been so self-absorbed I really missed the chance to notice life around me and get my usual inspiration from random happenings. Then I witnessed what few, I believe, have witnessed.

Driving through my neighborhood I pass a few man made lakes. Or maybe they are ponds. Actually I am going to go with small lakes. Anyway I noticed a lot of splashing and commotion in the center of one of the lakes. I immediately pulled over and rushed out to the dock to see exactly what was going on. Within a few seconds it became clear that I was witnessing a real life duck fight.

It was brutal and for a good 30 seconds there was nothing but splashing, quacking and feathers. But it wasn’t like watching two dogs fighting or bears defending one’s territory. It was actually ridicules and a little bizarre. Much like watching a Disney character go bad. I know that is a stretch but it elicits the same response from me. I’ve never seen a duck death match.

Well, after a few seconds it became clear that these two mallards were not giving up until one of them was flappers-up. So I, and I have no idea why, decided to break up the quarrel. Throwing acorns at them and shouting, “break it up ducks, you are embarrassing yourselves” I rapidly became disconnected from my present setting. Little did I know two ladies with a stroller stopped directly behind me and witnessed my efforts to stop the fight.

Between the well placed acorn throws and shouts of desperation to stop their duel, it worked. One duck flew one way and the other in the opposite direction. It didn’t seem that they accomplished anything more than proving to all other living creatures that much like a middle aged man on a scooter, duck fighting is something to lose respect over. So, with a sense of accomplishment I dusted off my hands and turned to walk off the dock towards my car. Then, to my surprise, I caught eyes with the two stunned soccer moms. Mustering my composure I walked past them with a purpose and said the only thing I could think of.

“It was a duck fight.”

9

Me And Murf

 

My whole life I have tried to make the right decisions only to find that there was a much better decision I could have made staring me right in the face the whole time. I’m not saying that every one I made was the wrong one but usually there was an easier way if only I took the time to think and not shoot from the hip. There are certain people in life that can take a 50/50 chance and almost every time get it wrong. I am one of those people and I have come to accept that. When there is a fork in the road, gut feelings are not to be trusted because Murphy and I are so close he allows me to call him Murf. Let me give you an example.

This afternoon I went to the basement to hunt down the elusive Christmas tree ornament box that weighs between 45 and 500 lbs  based on how high on the shelf it is. This year it was located on the tip top of the back self in the darkest corner of the basement. My mission was to retrieve it, lug it upstairs with minimal damage to the eggshell white walls and Ethan Allen furniture obstacle course between the basement and living room tree. Assessing the height, weight and angle the Rubbermade box I needed a stable platform to reach it. Looking directly at a step ladder I immediately decided that was no good and the half crushed cardboard box was just perfect to stand on because it was closer to the Christmas box.

I crawled up on the box and dispersed my weight evenly on both sides. Laughing to myself for being so clever Murphy heard me and came calling. Just as I pulled the tonnage of ornaments to the point of no return the box below gave way and we all came crashing to the cement floor. And then I woke up after dreaming about jell-o salad and a backyard Luau. No shit, I knocked myself out cold! I have only involuntarily fallen asleep a few times and that involved a needle, the smell of rubbing alcohol and blood. So now I don’t want to fall asleep because I may slip into a comma. Is that right? Concussions lead to comas? I think that’s right so it looks like a long night of VH1 Classic Rockfest.

I need to find comfort in my dilemma so I turn to the Wold Wide Web. I know my blog mates are smarter than I am so I can’t turn to them. Thanks YouTube. Again.

Did you see the ceramic Elvis at the end?

9

Radio Sh*t

                                                                    

I’m going to start this day with a reflection on RadioShack. I hate RadioShack with a hatered that is rarely witnessed by many who know me. If someone was to udder words like crap, shit, stink pile, poo, junk, dump, pewtrid, funk or sounds like blap, ploop, or shlllapsspspsp, the first image in my head would be the RadioShack sign. Why I feel this way is primarely because of a Christmas present I recieved in 1985. It was a silver Ferarri remote controlled car and it was the most spectacular thing I had ever seen. You can tell by weight and size of a wrapped gift that it has to be cool. Rectangular packages leave out the possibility of clothes or books so it was kept for last to unwrap and to a seven year old it was not a disapointment
I could hardly wait to pull that thing from the box, put in the 6 D baterries and tear up the driveway with the Italian dream machine. But little did I know it was bought from the one store that sells only electronic dog shit. When the car was prepped and charged and I was dressed for the inclimate, damp day outside, it was time to test drive.
  I remember approximatly ten full minutes of remote control fun and then it came to rest, rolling out of control against the garage door. With a mechanical inclination of a seven year old I feverishly banged the remote. There had to be a simple answer to why the car is not responding! So with mouth agape, arms limp and a slouching stride I walked to the disabled car and examined the undercarriage. I can’t remember what I was looking for but I had a gut feeling it was bad. I needed to take to Mr. Fix-it. You know…Dad.
  With careful inspection my father was too perplexed with why the car decided to shit the bed so soon. He expected it to last at least a week. He turned to the one avenue I would never and that is the instruction sheet. This led to my worst fears and that was the long list of what the car could not drive on and if you own it then the joke was on you. Turns out the car could not operate on pavement, lanolium, carpet, grass, dirt or anything else besides a wooden track. Dad looked at me with sympathy and we decided to bring it back to RadioShit on the most dreaded boxing day to see if there was a way to return the car. This is the beginning of my hatered towards RadioShack. But I was cool for now. I had other toys to break.
  So we got up early and took off to Perimeter mall. My memory is fuzzy because I probably blocked out most of that day but I’m sure it was a mad house. With the car back in the original box my Dad and I walked into the RadioShack store to stand in line behind other equally pissed off customers. He thought this was a great platform for me, as a seven year old, to gain some real adult expirience and ask for a Ferarri exchange by myself. Now that I think about it he probably was banking on a cuteness factor to make the exchange less painful. Either way, cuteness or life lesson, it backfired and the bitch clerk took one look at me and decided to make me an example.
 

Now to this day I am positive that all RadioShack emloyees ar given a training handbook full of Nazi propaganda. They take great joy in selling little kids shit for Christmas presents, have them go through the pains of the present breaking and forcing them to come back to the store to recieve an ass chewing. Why I believe this? It only makes sense to me because it happened to me. The snot, chick employee assessed the situation before her and in a loud voice said, “Let me guess, you didn’t read the instuctions and now you want a new one?”


  I remember my ears turning hot and humiliation set in. With a scornful look she snatched the box out of my arms and went to the “employee only” section. I looked for my Dad but he was standing by the cassette players lost in geek world. Before Icould go to him for protection the “employee only” door kicked open and the female Gerbles waddeled her way to the counter. She wasn’t done with her power talk. Not by a long shot.
  “I am going to let you exchange this but I had better not see you back here whining about how it is broken.” I hope she felt good having a power trip on a seven year old. Maybe it was the fact she had to work on the holidays or I was customer number 3,000 with an exchange but I feel she saw me as an outlet for her shitty RadioShack customer service skill.
  Walking out the store my Dad peeled away from HiFi extacy and saw that mission was accomplished. I was still in shock from having my ass handed to me. We made it to about the parking lot before I broke down in tears. I was a protected kid growing up. My folks never yelled at me and my elementary school was something from Nickelodeon so getting chewed out by a stranger really shook me up. It must have because I am writing about it 22 years later. Dad didn’t really think that much about it. We got into the car and went to Ihop for “feel better pancakes.”
  By the time we got home the feelings of shame and embarasment subsided and the excitement of a new remote Ferarri took center stage. But when I took the box from the bag the bitch from the store had salt for me wounds. Istead of a shiny ass kicking ass kicker sports car I got a remote controled pickup truck. That’s all I’m going to say about that.
  I have not been to a RadioShack since. I refuse to shop there and I even tell others to boycott the company. My visceral hatered towards RadioShack will never be squelched and everytime a new store opens a puppy dies. So up yours RadioShack. Up yours.

11

Insanity Has A Face

If there is any doubt that YouTube has changed the face of entertainment then I challenge that with the thousands of regular people who have become over night celebrities simply by uploading videos to share with the millions of people who probably are not doing what they should be. Like I said in a previous blog, if you feel like watching a dog named Bill eat a carrot, there is a good chance you’ll find it. For that, I am thankful. Actually I am going to say that at Thanksgiving dinner this year. Because then I would have missed an opportunity to review The Norma Lee Show.

Oh where to begin with this? I guess I’ll give you a little history before I introduce you to the lady herself. I lived in Atlanta a few years ago and anyone who lives there will tell you the morning commute on 400, 285 and 85 is much like getting a root canal. Luckily for me they had a great morning radio show on 96 rock called The Regular Guys Show. Somehow they found Norma Lee’s homemade recorded CD and played it on the air and I fell in love. I mean it was pretty fucking terrible as far as the music was concerned but her innocence was very endearing. I thought she had fallen off the face of the Earth until an accidental YouTube run-in this afternoon. Now I can share it with you. Enjoy…

Now you see that we are dealing with a pretty special case here. Inspired by the 80’s craze of music videos, she wrote, performed and produced this gem called “He’s Swapping His Boat For A Tractor”. The lyrics are pretty straight forward. It’s about her significant other who just retard (?) from a factory and he has all this land that a boat can’t help with. So he swapped his boat for a tractor with the help from God and his family. I’m still confused by the basketball, though.

Oh my God that was priceless! First off, the shout out to Dr. Phil made my millennium. I doubt there will be any references made to him that won’t cause me to break out into song, “HEY DR. PHIL..DO YOU WANNA..” You have to love the way she gives a real “fuck you” to Paris from the state of Kentucky. She pulled out all the stops and used such great props like a clock, stair rails for prison bars, Lightning McQueen from Cars, a few bottles and oh yeah, her own ass. So take it in stride Ms. Hilton and quit flapping your jaws.

“Reckon they got a caller I.D.?” I hate to break it to you Norma but they can’t see you through the phone. It makes one wonder if the bag over the head was a joke that went over her head. I also wonder if there is a dick of a person who is filming this and suggested she wear a bag. I hope not because she seems like a real sweet person. I don’t believe she will be asked to take the Mensa test but she looks like someone that will bake you a pie when you are sick. Even if the pie is filled will some thing strange like corn or baked beans. It’s the gesture.

I think this was creatively driven by Norma’s boyfriend. Only a country dude can make a video about guns, legs and toe-maters. I must say that I was a little uneasy hearing Norma moan while the camera focuses on her feet. I think someone has a fetish and now I won’t be able to sleep.

This must be a big thing around Kentucky because Norma is going out of her head. Her low octave tones inspires me to wipe out my schedule next Saturday and cruise the neighborhoods for yard sale signs. When I find one I will demand a song before I buy LA Gear sneakers and Kenner Star Wars toys with missing pieces. I wish I knew what Norma was selling. Hopefully autographed cassette tapes. “…come on down and buy my junk!”

I love this song. From the first time I heard it I immediately had mental pictures of Jesus actually copping a squat on a human heart. That image can make me laugh but at the same time terrify me to the core. It reminds me of what the creepy old guy in Poltergeist 2 was singing. Norma also teases us will cookies, Amish bread and the chance to catch a glims at a swing set just out of view from the camera. But at least we get to meet the baker of the Amish bread or at least his gut that eclipses 90% of the screen.

I think we will end on a high note. The song, “I’m Not An Old Dooshbag” (that’s how it’s spelled on the track) really knocked over some barriers in what I consider hilarious. Never in my 29 years have I seen dolls referenced in a song about a dooshbag complimented with a singing Grandma and a background Sony keyboard demo beat. I would use the word awesome but I think it falls short. So I will say niftyawesomebadasscool.

Norma Lee, you have touched my heart. There is no way I will cruise the YouTube world with out stopping by the Norma Lee Show to see what is new. I can’t believe your album has not gone platinum yet but give it time. The world will soon know your talent and I hope that day is soon. At least before you retard. (?) And Norma….you are no dooshbag.

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