Friday, June 29

You could be a part time model

From HBO's Flight of the Conchords: I've been unable to get this song out of my head.

Hot enough to be a waitress, air hostess in the 60s, or even a part-time model (You'd probably have to keep your normal job). Beautiful like...a tree, or a high-class prostitute.

I can't believe/ That I'm eating a kebab/ With the most beautiful girl I have ever seen...eating a kebab.

Listen here to a great interview on Fresh Air including live performances of 'Part Time Model' and a few other songs.


Now available in T-shirt form!

Rickrolled is the new Goatse'd

b3ta reports:
Rickrolling is tricking someone into accidentally watching the video to Rick Astley's debut single 'Never Gonna Give You Up". This is usually done by pretending the link is to something completely unrelated and extremely interesting.
So whatever you do, under absolutely no circumstances, upon pain of death or retinal scarring, DO NOT CLICK THIS LINK.

It's good to have goals.

(From 'Found' magazine)

Thursday, June 28

Bomb Camp

Maybe not the brightest idea in the world, for a whole bunch of reasons: teaching teenagers from around the world how to blow shit up.
"Some people like baseball, others like math – I just like to set off bombs," said Brandon Meadows. "I figure here, learning how to do it properly is better than messing around with it at home, right?"

Meadows is one of 20 teenage campers enrolled in a weeklong explosion camp in the Missouri Ozarks. At the camp, high school students from as far away as Egypt and Hawaii shoot dynamite, TNT and plastic explosives.

During his week at camp, Niels Zussblatt, a teen from St. Louis, helped blast a rock from deep in a mine, obliterated a watermelon, cut steel beams and set off a "wall of fire."

One of his favorites?

"Blowing up the chicken was good," he said. "It flew – forced bits of chicken guts to fly like 40 to 50 feet."

Before completing the chicken explosion, Zussblatt heeded his professor's warning: When you are looking at the explosion, do not have your mouth open.

Dick Cheny is the Harlem Globetrotters as....

Jon Stewart on Dick Cheney's latest attempted ass-rape of the Constitution, in which he:

1) Refuses to tell an oversight committee how many secrets his office keeps. The answer? That's a secret too.

2) Attempts to said oversight committee abolished. (As Stewart notes, it's not that easy to shoot an entire committee in the face, old man style, and then have them apologize to Cheney)

3) Claims he is not fully part of the executive branch because he casts tie-breakers in the Senate.

Watch the video clip for the insightful Harlem Globetrotters analogy. (Hint: it concerns their questionable membership credentials as part of the Scooby Doo gang).

As a postscript, the White House is now disavowing the Vice President's "outside of the box" constitutional argument, after a team of legal experts determined that the strategy was "Coo-Coo for Cocoa Nuts."

Having a flutter on the Go-Karts

One of the best things about Britain's legalized gambling houses is they will often give odds on inane bets of the customer's own choosing, from the ending of the next Harry Potter book (if the wisdom of crowds can be trusted, Harry's a goner) to the color of the Queen's hat at Ascot.

This from the brilliant email newsletter Popbitch:
In 1998 a man watched his son soundly beaten in a go-kart race by a very fast young driver. He went to the bookies and asked to put a bet on this kid winning a Formula One race before he reached the age of 23.

William Hill laughed him out of the shop, but Ladbrokes gave him odds of 200-1. After this month's Montreal Grand Prix, where 22 year-old Lewis Hamilton recorded his first victory, the chap called up Ladbrokes to claim his winnings - 40,200 pounds.

Tuesday, June 26

Using Web 2.0 to go #1

Ok pop-o-matic, someone finally stole your idea: A cellphone-based, user-generated directory containing the best places to take a leak in a given city and location.

I like everything but the name: MizPee. It's lame. And boys need to pee sometimes too.

Thursday, June 21

Coney Island Beer

If the label is any indication, Coney Island Lager tastes just like its namesake: Freakish, ugly and reeking of desperation.

Tuesday, June 19

The Next Food Network Star

I hate reality shows and with a few exceptions (Oliver, Lawson, Batali, Bastianich) don't really like cooking shows either, and so never really considered watching 'The Next Food Network Star.'

However, Anthony Bourdain -- another TV cook who I actually like -- has me thinking that the show is so goddamn awful that it might be worth it.
Yes. Of course I watched NEXT FOOD NETWORK STAR. Minimally talented wannabe cooks of negligable to moderate experience compete to become "Celebrity Chefs" based on a focus group-like criteria of "likeability" while food and cooking ability (such as it is) take a distant back seat. All to record breaking ratings for FN!

I love it.


Michael has no chance--as he's too capable, too professional and too experienced. Even if he GOT the gig, he'd no doubt quickly hang himself from shame when he got the Full Picture. ( "Michael! It's a Holiday Special! Our research shows that audiences want to see you nibbling corn nuts out of Sandra Lee's ass under the mistletoe!You have no problem with that, right?)
Another installment of Bourdain's blog has this:
I made myself a pitcher of Negronis, booted some crystal meth, ordered out for pizza and some take-out uni and setttled in for another exciting week of Slaughterfest. And here's what happened:

Daryl Dawkins lumbered in as guest judge. The perfect candidate he's about as irrelevent to the world of food and cooking as any human could be. Genius! Next week, it's Joe Piscopo.

Ade did it

Slate has the round-up of alternate Sopranos endings by YouTube users, and this one is definitely the best. Additional bonus points for explaining the true significance of the Ginger Cat and utilizing Imogen Heap's "Hide & Seek" as a soundtrack a la The OC (and Saturday Night Live's spoof). Meta-tastic!

ps watch this before HBO pulls it down

Friday, June 15

LeBron James is a wuss

...compared to this guy, at least when it comes to Pop-A-Shot.

Wednesday, June 13

Did you hate the Sopranos finale?

After some very hearty swearing at my TV and a good night's sleep, I'm coming to around to the conclusion that Sunday night's finale was actually an ambiguous masterpiece -- in death as in life. (For the record I think Tony got whacked by the trucker hat guy but of course there is plenty of room for interpretation.)

But just think how bad the Soprano's fat lady song could have been if it was on network TV. Blogger and TV scribe Ken Levine hypothesizes:
They would want the following changes in the last scene. Meadow should drive a Ford because that’s who is sponsoring. She should have no trouble parallel parking because Fords are easy to parallel park. The restaurant must be TGI Fridays – also a sponsor and much more colorful. The threat should come from a singing waiter wearing a straw hat, suspenders, and hundreds of fun buttons. A secondary threat should be an Arab terrorist with a scar. The Arab should pull his gun. The waiter should point his banjo (which is also a semi-automatic rifle). It looks like Tony, Carmela, and A.J. are done for it. Final commercial break. We come back just as Meadow bursts in the door with an Uzi and blows the bad guys away. Meadow, it seems, has just come from dance class and is wearing nothing but a hot leotards. Tony says, “That’s what I get for going to Fridays on Tuesday.” The family shares a laugh. Meadow sits down. Everyone hugs and declares their love for each other. Carmelo calls out, “Can we get ANOTHER waiter?” They laugh. One more hug. Long fade out, as music swells – Dino’s “Ain’t That a Kick in the Head”. Fade out. Your local news is next.

South Africa pix

Great White Shark Bait

Tutu, Elmo & Oprah

Adam and the Arch

Atop Table Mountain

Baboons - Uncut

Sunset over Cape Point

I'm back!

Details on S. Africa forthcoming later today, but first:

Here's a trend heartily endorsed by the Monkey Daemon editorial board -- comic books created for TV series that were just too good to survive in our cold, materialistic world.

Veronica Mars is no longer with us on the idiot box, but she may live on in ink and paper, according to this report.