Wrapped Up Like a Happy Howling-day Seizing

Be not afraid, for I bring you news of a great joy, which shall be to all people who support my making a tiny bit of dough, so that I will not be reduced to crafting my family's Christmas presents from the boxes from other people's Hanukkah presents. I've got a new thing up at Comedy Central's InDesicion blog about how Fred Thompson the man stacks up with Fred Thompson the character:

• Comparison Shopping: Fred Thompson vs. "Fred Thompson"

... read it! Enjoy it! Share it with your friends and neighbors and neighbors' friends' pets!

Meanwhile, C-baby surprised me recently with a copy of Emmet Otter's Jug-Band Christmas, which as some of you may remember was a Jim Henson show done for HBO back in the olden days of yore. It had been a favorite of mine when I was a kid, but I hadn't actually seen it in twenty years or so, so I was curious how it would hold up. Here's the original introduction featuring Kermit the Frog, which was cut out when Disney bought it, along with several sarcastic lines which were apparently considered too cynical for modern tots:

However, it turns out that as a whole, the show is pretty depressing, and the message is basically that life sucks when you're poor. It's sort of like a Muppet version of "Good Times." I still enjoyed it for nostalgic reasons, though.

Finally, here are some things I wrote over at Cracked recently:

• Ian's Unnecessary News Roundup: Jamie-Lynn done got knocked up'ded, Huckabee wants to steal your soul, and yet another story about Pete Doherty and vomit.


• Fun with Yahoo News Photos: Wayward nipplies, terrorist scallops, and barbwire airports.


• A Knight to Remember: Knight Rider's back, and it's still a crappy American car with bad gas mileage.

Merrily, verily!

Tids, Bits

Here's a new thing that Wayne of the Gladstones came up with and which Tobe Matty and I have been contributing some jokes for--the Boiler Room News. I think you'll agree that the camera loves Wayne's basement:

I think you'll also agree that it's better than 78% of the other fake news out there. And it allows for many long email threads about what the appropriate pause length before delivering the punchline of a panty joke is. You can view the entire series so far at the lovely Boiler Room News website.

And here are some things I've written for other sites which pay cash money (or as C-baby says, "More sandwiches for me!"):

• Ian’s Unnecessary News Roundup: Garth Brooks' amazing technicolor dream-hat, homophobic vampires, and the terrible truth about toad-smoking (it doesn't make you look cool).


• Eight Seven Crazy Nights: Hanukkah: charming winter festival for the yarmulke set, or source of impending global cataclysm? You decide!


• Led Zeppelin: Been a Long Time, But They Still Rock and Roll!: Exclusive footage from their triumphant, heart-attack-free reunion!


• A Blogger’s Dilemma: Gotta whole Liotta love.

Anywho, that's all for now. As those cool kids at the Renaissance Faire say, "More anon!"

Dinette Vignettes, Etc.(ettes)

In lieu of better ideas, I've decided it's time to bring back the ancient WULAD feature wherein I share stories, quotes, and what have you from the exciting and unpredictable world of public eating. That's right, it's the return of Dinette Vignettes!

Part the First: while I was eating my lunch in the park today, two women sat near me and conversed loudly about their personal lives. I was trying not to listen, but couldn't help but pick up the following quotes:

• "So he was always out late, never coming home, so she got so worried she had a miscarriage. I keep thinking though, some day that's gonna be my baby!"


• "So I says to him, 'You better understand, or else you not gonna be #@%$ing me anymore!'" (Reply: "Yeah, they always understand that!")


• "Sooner or later, everybody gets laid by a Mexican."

Part the Second: I decided to try a place near my work which specializes in hot dogs of various and amazing varieties called "What's Up Dog?" (Note: do not get the Chicago dog unless you can handle hot peppers. Those cute little yellow "sport" peppers are no joke.) Anyway, as I'm sitting there eating my Chicago dog (sweat running down my face and seeing spots), the phone rings. The guy behind the counter answers it and says, "What's Up Dog?"

---

Meanwhile, here's a trio of my recent contributions to other sites for your edutainment:

• As Fast as You Can Take Them Away, She Can Make More: Britney's pregnant again! Or isn't she?! Or is she?!! Or is she not?!!!!


• Ian's Unnecessary News Roundup: Steve Irwin's kid picks up the hip-hop torch, Amy Winehouse is a hamster-murdering skank, and Jessica Alba is the next Ethel Merman.


• How Far Is Too Far?: Wayne's all like, 'Dead kids are funny!' and they're all like, 'No they're not! You're offensive!' and I'm all like, 'That's not offensive, this is offensive!'

Anyway, enjoy, and tune in next week for the amazing story of "Anti-Icky Poo"!

Stuff, Things

I had a dream last night that I was riding in the casual carpool (a really good system we have here in Gomorrah-by-the-Bay which allows the drivers to save on toll money and skip the ugly toll plaza traffic, and the riders to avoid riding on the grungy odor-trap known as BART), but my dad was driving. I was in the back, and Carlos Beltran was in the front passenger seat, in his full Mets uniform and batting helmet. We must've made a wrong turn somewhere, because I didn't recognize where we were. I kept offering suggestions to my dad to get us back on track, but they were apparently all wrong, because pretty soon I realized we were on a narrow dirt road in the mountains.

I was really embarrassed, so I started making conversation with Carlos, like, "So, congratulations on the Gold Glove and Silver Slugger awards--that must be exciting..." but he was giving short answers and was obviously annoyed that we were lost in the wilderness when all he was trying to do was get to work. Then I somehow said, "so I guess this means you're the best first baseman in the league..." and he snapped, "First base?!" (since of course he's a center fielder, which I knew, but I was nervous and misspoke, so get off my back, OK?). Anyway, we continued to get more and more lost, but eventually I woke up. For all I know we're still there, and have had to eat Carlos to survive.

Meanwhile, here are some bits I've written in the past weeks which you should check out if you are the sort of person who enjoys things which are funny:

• Jude Is Never Having to Say You're Sorry: According to Jude Law, the only thing we have to regret is regret itself.


• Cracked Science Corner!!!!11!!: Three morsels of sciencey goodness, each of vital importance to you and your increasingly bleak prospects for a future as a non-dead person.


• And He Saw That They Were Good: Salma Hayek sez "Thank God for My Breasts!"


• Beatleohead, R.I.P.: Thom Yorke tells Paul McCartney to go suck a walrus.

...oh, and a Happy Turkey Day to all!

WULAD Web Wround-Up

Have you ever wondered, "What is the craziest shit I could ever possibly see?" Well, thanks to Boing Boing (which is the website of choice for people who resemble that condescending IT guy character from Saturday Night Live), here is a video which does in fact contain shit which I believe is the most crazy upon which you will ever lay eyes. It's like if you took your ordinary, everyday crazy shit and covered it in cocaine and plutonium and shot it into space and it fell into a black hole and exploded. Really, it's crazy:

... and in future news, these guys are dead.

Meanwhile, I have two posts this week over at Cracked for you to enjoy and/or ridicule: first, what do eight-legged girls, Kim Cattrall, and a giant Chinese Ferris Wheel have in common? Find out in Ian's Unnecessary News Roundup. And second, did you know that in the United Kingdom pregnant women are allowed to pee in policemen's hats (although presumably not while the policemen are wearing them), and that it's legal for John Cleese to kill one Spice Girl per year? These astounding legal facts and more can be found in Rule(s) Britannia.

Finally, when I read a headline like "Reporter Bernstein raps celebrity news," I really expect that it's going to be about Carl Bernstein actually rapping, with lyrics about Britney Spears and Brangelina and what-have-you (a la "Gr-Gr-Groin Injury"). Man, was I disappointed.

Strike While the Irony Is Hot

Just in time for Halloween, I've got a post up at Cracked today in the theme of that very holiday:

I think I remember being told by someone recently that we live in "The Age of Irony"—possibly it was the ambulance driver who ran me over, or the doctor at Planned Parenthood who knocked up my girlfriend—and if the news media is any indication, it's true:

'Saw' Star's Son Has Ironic Halloween Costume
'Saw IV' villain Tobin Bell's creepy movie puppet sidekick Billy is such a hit in his household, the actor's young son will hit the streets at Halloween dressed like him.

Now, the son of the star of Saw dressing up as a character from Saw is about as ironic as the son of a fireman dressing up as a fireman, or the son of Dick Cheney dressing up as an asshole, or the son of Tom Cruise dressing up as a batshit-crazy gay dude. Which is to say, not ironic at all.

Now, with a little knowledge of what the word "ironic" means, it's not that difficult to come up with plenty of costumes that fit the definition more accurately. For example:

• Marion Jones' son dressing up as a urine sample


• Sen. Larry Craig's son dressing up as a men's room


• A nappy-headed ho dressing up as Don Imus


• Woody Allen's daughter dressing up as his wife, and vice-versa

... and you're not going to believe this, but there's more!

Spider-Man 4: Directorial Showdown!

I did another Cracked post today which you might enjoy:

After spending the past eight years developing his own unique ass-groove in the director's chair of the Spider-Man series, Sam Raimi has decided to give another ass a shot:

Raimi directed the first three movies and wrote 2007's Spider-Man 3---but the filmmaker is stepping back to let someone else create their own vision for the web-slinging adventure.

Since Raimi didn't mention any potential candidates, I decided to gaze into my crystal ball of smartass conjecture and envision how the next Spider-Man adventure might look under the helm of seven fine directors, and compile that information in a handy chart, suitable for framing. (You're welcome, Sam.)

To read the chart, which features potshots at directors from George Lucas to Woody Allen, and which I spent way too much time on, click here.

Star Wars, Episode VII: The Crappy TV Show

I've got a new article up at Cracked today, which is pissing off the nerds royally ("the other nerds, you mean"), and which you might enjoy:

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away... you respected George Lucas. Just when you thought he had finished defiling your cherished memories, the Star Wars creator (and destroyer) announced yesterday that he plans to exhume those memories, rip their heads off, and take a dump down their necks:

George Lucas is planning a live-action television series spinoff of the "Star Wars" film franchise... which will not include the films' major characters. "The Skywalkers aren't in it, and it's about minor characters," Lucas told the Times on Tuesday.

... So on the off-chance that he's still open to suggestions about this minor-character-driven show, and in gratitude for the good times we once shared before he blew it all to hell, I'd like to offer the following show ideas, absolutely free:

Catching Up with the Fetts
$25,000 Jedi Mind-Trick Pyramid
Womprat Manor
Are You Smarter than a Tauntaun?
Mos Eisley Vice
Akbar, P.I.
America's Next Top Jawa

But wait, there's more! Continue reading "Star Wars, Episode VII: The Crappy TV Show"...