The 223rd step on the last road home.

Why I hate small-potatoes buslines

1.] It doesn't matter if I'm in the terminal for five minutes or five hours, some jerk I went to high school with will bump into me and try selling me something within 30 seconds. At least this last time, the jerk was selling insurance instead of crack.

2.] I always get bumped from the one bus going where I need to be that day.

3.] The bus people always rub my nose in #2 by giving me a free roundtrip ticket to anywhere they service -- like, all of New York, and some of Pennsylvania and New Jersey -- except the one place I actually visit regularly.

FUCK YOU, THE BUS!!!!!!!

Breaking News: Snowy the dog, R.I.P.

Thu Jan 27,2:06 AM ET

ITHACA, New York - A photograph was released this afternoon to confirm that Tintin's semi-faithful canine companion, Snowy [or "Milo" if you're in Japan; "Milou" in France, Finland, Greece, Luxemburg, Sweden, Iran or Vietnam; "Milu" in Spain, Basque, Portugal, Corsica, Hungary, Italy, Serbia, Croatia; "Miluo" in Esperanto; "Milus" in Poland; "Melok" in Russia; "Bobbie" in the Netherlands; "Boncuk" in Turkey; "Katrina" in Bavaria; just "Snow" in Slovakia; "Spokie" in most of Africa; "Struppi" in Germany; "Terry" in Denmark or Norway; "Tobbi" in Iceland; or "Smwtyn" in Gaelic Ireland] is dead.

The speculation over the years about the dog's whereabouts following the death of Tintin creator Herge almost matched the amount devoted to aide de camp/"mistress"/gold-digger Erin Fleming following the death of Groucho Marx. An investigation into the time and cause of the dog's death was still in progress at press time.

The 221st step on the last road home.

close toilet readings

You know, stuff like this makes me seriously rethink my bathroom reading habits. On the other hand, I've apparently lucked out romantically, in that none of my oral-sex partners ever coughed the semen onto the pillow. I mean, really, who the fuck wrote this stuff, and how awful must his/her/hir/its dating history be? Two more red flags about the author are that rimming is considered oral sex -- since when, and SEZ WHO??? -- and "Apart from being bitten, catching genital herpes is the main risk" of oral sex. Perhaps ... if you're fucking an alligator.

Speaking of reading on the toilet, Elvis Presley's favorite books were THE BIBLE and THE IMPERSONAL LIFE, and he died reading Frank O. Adams' THE SCIENTIFIC SEARCH FOR THE FACE OF JESUS. Discuss.

The 220th step on the last road home.

Browsing IMDB.com on the road

And I thought comic-book message boards were embarrassing wastes of time. This thread is especially heartbreaking when you compare Dalton Trumbo's work to Metallica's, and that you can buy a DVD with their "One" music video [which features clips from JOHNNY GOT HIS GUN] in this country, but not the actual film itself.

Scroll down to the IT CAME FROM HOLLYWOOD entry for my favorite review of the year. Talk about missing the point! It reminds me of the tools I knew who lovedlovedloved everything on the Sci-Fi channel ... except MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATER 3000, since they cover up the bottom of the screen and talk during the movie. I knew a half-dozen of those kind of tools, and they all despised MST3K for ruining their viewing pleasure of classics like PRINCE OF SPACE, where chicken men from outer space battle a Japanese superhero who's pals with little Tokyo schoolboys who've been dubbed with William Bendix's syntax. Who wouldn't want to take in its every nuance without distraction?

Every now and then, I see an unbearably shitty movie that somehow gives me the feeling that Goldie Hawn was somehow involved in its making. For example: THE SIDEHACKERS, the z-grade attempt to do for side-car motorcycle racing what ENDLESS SUMMER did for surfing and ON ANY SUNDAY did for motorcycles. Who directed this steaming piece of shit? Gus Trikonis, who was married to Hawn at the time it was made. This is especially chilling if you've ever seen the movie.

Attention HTML/Java scripters: An opportunity to help wipe out Endemic Treponematosis

I'd like to add a small lefthand column to the page, but every method I've tried hasn't worked. Anyone who knows how to do it and/or knows of a page that shows how to do it please email me or post in the Comments below; whoever hooks me up first will have a day named in his/her honor. [And yes, I can do a snazzy little collapsible hack for the Comments feature, but a three-column page is beyond me.]

To sweeten the pot: In addition to naming a day in the person's honor, I'll send whoever who helps the most an autographed door-hanger that shows who to give a breast exam. [I have a bunch left over from an old job.] Guys: There are photographs of BOOBIES on this thing! Girls: You'll learn how to protect yourself from CANCER!

Also, would anyone like me to add any alternate feeds of the blog, besides the atom one? Does anyone actually use the atom feed?

I'm having a brief moment of user-friendliness, so any suggestions that would improve the enjoyment of The Unofficial John Westmoreland Memorial Tribute Webring should be made now, before I regain my senses.

The 211st step on the last road home.

Mind: Destroyed. Bank Account: Unchanged.

Holy shit, Tribune is offering a GIL THORPE collection, UNDER THE FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS!, admitting to 330 pages of semi-coherent, possibly ironic gridiron action for about 40 bucks! Many people greenlit this project! No sale, but I still may buy some JUMBLE merch, since Millions of people do it every day!!

The 208th step on the last road home.

MST3K: The Gathering

If only it was 1993 again, I'd print some of these out, paste them onto some mana cards and rock out. I reembraced my passion for Mystery Science Theater 3000 a few days ago, after having spent a very long night searching my soul to find what cell-phone ringtone suite best encapsulates me as a human being. The answer, which seems so stupidly obvious now, is material from "Manos" the Hands of Fate. The majority of the MSTie sites I found in my search for Manos wav files were years-abandoned ghost ships that were mostly focused on the "new" season's episodes instead of the Joel-era shows, but I did find the above page, a fusion of two nerd-culture movements so prominent that nature demanded a hybrid.

I had friends who would spend their Friday nights -- or was it Saturday night? Sunday? Christ, it's only been 10 years and I can't remember -- playing Magic: The Gathering and whatever that stupid vampire card game was called until midnight struck and everyone piled around the TV to watch the new episode of MST3K. Most of those friends are dead now; I think the only reason I survived was that my interest in Magic went little further than making one-color decks of small Common creatures no one wanted 30 of, like Grizzly Bears, Prodigal Sorcerers or Plague Rats. So please remember: Always, know your dealer.

The 206th step on the last road home.

"He headed up SUPERMAN!"

Banner house ad from one of the not-awful job-search sites on the Web:



This thing is wrong on so many levels that I'm getting an ice-cream-headache-like feeling just looking at it. The description of the seminar itself is similarly disturbing and amusing -- especially the "It all starts with an idea:" section, which should've been titled either "One of these things is not like the others:" or "Pick out the actual graphic novel:"

The 205th step on the last road home.

Kennedy's secretary was named Lincoln.

I was doing research into NYC street addresses that would put a condo in the East River when I came across the name "Gale Gordon," a character actor who I knew from most of Lucille Ball's post-I LOVE LUCY work. But I had recently seen the name somewhere else, but couldn't place it until I realized Gale Gordon's also the name of the voice actor who played Flash Gordon in the 1935 radio series, which I was listening to while I was researching.

I jumped on Imdb to see if there were multiple Gale Gordons, and learned that the Lucy Gordon is indeed the radio Flash Gordon, as well as the replacement Mr. Wilson from the last season of the DENNIS THE MENACE television show. And that there was a fucking DONDI movie, and Gordon's in that too. And Gordon was in an Elvis movie -- a really shitty one, even by Elvis-movie standards -- he played principal Osgood Conklin on OUR MISS BROOKS, and was in what sounds like the greatest crappy movie ever made, a Frankie Avalon musical called SERGEANT DEADHEAD, THE ASTRONAUT, costarring Eve Arden, Cesar Romero and Buster Keaton ... but directed by superhack Norman Taurog. And the only Taurog movie known to not be an utter piece of shit? SKIPPY, based on Percy Crosby's comic strip ... which was syndicated by King Features, the same company that handled Alex Raymond's FLASH GORDON. [Or, Avalon starred in a million crappy beach movies with Annette Funicello, who was a spokesperson for Skippy peanut butter, the company that ruined Crosby's life and career.]

The circle is now complete; go in peace.

Here is the WWI flying ace buying a new 8.4V 900 MAH NIMH battery for his Sopwith Camel

I've spent many an hour on "the thunder bowl" pondering the trim characteristics of Snoopy's doghouse*, hours that I'll never get back. I've never regretted the loss of that time, until I realized today that I've never taken my thoughts to the next level. Yes, that's right, this radio-controlled airplane company is working on a kit of Snoopy's flying doghouse.

I don't go in for novelty merchandise -- especially comics stuff -- and I'm not an R/C flying enthusiast, but I'd buy that doghouse kit if I could. The only thing that would be funnier to see is a Snoopy doll on top instead of him being the vertical stabilizer. [Really, wouldn't a clear, lightweight-plastic stabilizer work just as well?]

* which is really hard when you consider that Charles Schulz rarely drew the house in 3/4 view, so you can only speculate on how long its eaves were. Actually, he only drew that sort of shot early in the strip's run and had probably stopped long before the big fire that burned the first doghouse to the ground [along with Snoopy's pool table, Van Gogh, etc.]. Maybe the eaves are short; maybe they're long -- for years, only Schulz and his God knew for certain; and now, only God knows.