Old Singers & 9/11 Don’t Mix

by  • 

The Crank

In retrospect, when I watched the 9/11 ceremonies in Manhattan from my living room (a misnomer), it struck me, there’s a reason singers who had hits in their twenties shouldn’t try to sing them when they’re pushing seventy.  I watched Paul Simon, folk guitar in-hand, completely butcher “The Sounds of Silence.”  You know what would have been more respectful?  Umm, silence?

Now, don’t get me wrong, I loved the ceremony and I feel that yes, two black granite holes in the ground with water flowing down in the middle like a tub drain is exactly the way I would have done it, fer Sher, but……..What? Too soon for a 9/11 memorial joke? 

When you are sixty six (WNBC), and some well intentioned young person contacts you to please sing that hit you had in the sixties, well, to paraphrase Nancy Reagan, Just Say No. You can no longer reach those highs anymore, so it’s kind of like asking Steven Hawking’s computer to sing an all mid-range rendition of our National Anthem. “…and the VoiceText’s read glare!”

Look, there’s a reason there will never be a Led Zeppelin reunion, besides Bonham’s death.  By the way John’s death was a necessary evil.  If your drummer doesn’t die before your third album, it’s all over.  Def Leppard tried to get away with just one arm and look what happened to them.  Anyway, Robert Plant knows all too damn well that unless we want to hear the line “does anybody remember laughter?” sounding as if it were sung by Richard Sturbin of the Oak Ridge Boys, it’s probably not a good idea. Get over it; it’s never going to happen, aka, the Levee broke, his vocal chords have gone Over the Hills and Far Away so it’s time to Ramble On.

I have noticed there are some older singers who still sound as good as they did when they were young.  Then I realized this was only because they sung rather crappily even back then. Rod Stewart comes to mind.  He always sounded like a 4-pack a day, seventy-year-old vasectomy gone horribly wrong, aka, he’s good to go for a long and productive career.  Tom Petty also comes to mind.  If I can sing like him until I’m 80, I’m reasonably sure he can do so.  Here comes my voice, here comes my voice.

Simon was like “Hello youngness my old friend, I fail to sing like you again.” He looked bloated and tired. Granted, I also look bloated and tired but, remember, I have looked bloated and tired since the Carter Administration…besides, I would have just said no. Oh yeah and, Paul, give up the hat.  We all know you’s bald. You haven’t had any hair since 1977. Nothing says ‘I’m Kool’ better than a suit jacket and a baseball hat.  Are you going to Scarborough Fair?  I hear they have a lot of hats there.

It’s like going to a Stones’ concert.  You go to hear the old songs, knowing full well they’re getting on in years.  But somehow you’re never fully prepared for Mick Jaeggermeister and the Crypt-Keeper Four. Has anyone actually told ‘Keef’ he died years ago?  Will the next tour be ‘The Mausoleum Tour 2012’?  Speaking of 2012, remember the Mayan prophecy?  The Stones opened for them.  At some point, fellas, just stay home.  But, then again, nothing says rock & roll like adult diapers.  Sympathy for the Hamper?

Back to 9/11.  I never thought I would ever feel sorry for a billionaire, but it happened. The cute little old Jewish guy who owned the 99-year leases on the Twin Towers, 86 year old Larry Silverstein, who had just acquired them a month before…  He had been in a car accident when the final papers needed to be filed.  He had his Doctor kill the morphine drip and called his minions to his hospital bedside to get the job done.  He really just should have hit the M button one more time and done the cross-eyed smile.  That’s what I do to get through Zano features.  He admits he is alive only because his nagging Jewish wife made him keep an appointment with his dermatologist.  He would have otherwise been in the Top of the World restaurant on 9/11, having some tenant meetings and then dying.  If you have ever encountered one of these old women, you know you just don’t argue. The payment for that is, to paraphrase Jimmy McMillan, Just Too Damn High.

America’s Napoleon, New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg, kept the clergy out of the ceremonies, mainly because he needs to feel important to make up for some, er…shall we say shortcomings?

As Rudy Giuliani said when asked, “The microphones won’t melt if the clergy was there.”

He also said there was no room for the Fire and Police personnel. Jeez Bloomers, ease up. You really can’t get re-elected this time, besides, changing the law to suit yourself usually only works once.

In closing, while the Freedom Tower looks to be a beautiful building and all, I preferred this runner-up:

You have to admit this captures both the essence of the War on Terror as well as our New York sensibilities about, well, everything.  Hello Bronx cheer, my old friend…
Share

Nation to Cryogenically Freeze itself until Current Job Problem Solvable

by  • 

Nation to Cryogenically Freeze itself until Current Job Problem Solvable

Washington, DC—President Barack Obama announced his proposal to essentially freeze-dry the entire continental United States from sunny Miami to rainy Seattle. This harsh, potentially dangerous, process will be undertaken in the hopes future economists will gain the tools and knowledge necessary to once again create American jobs.

“This isn’t about blame anymore,” said Obama. “It’s about fighting the hiring freeze with a bigger freeze.  Farmers will be compensated for any crops destroyed by freezer-burn and my Cash for Carsicles program will offer government aid to any cars irreparably damaged during the process.”

Republican opposition came quickly.

“This is just an attempt to extend his presidency indefinitely,” said radio talk show host Rush Limbaugh. “Look, the day we defrost as a nation, if this president had the courage and wisdom to step aside, he would have Republican support.”

The White House used a power point presentation complete with images of Han Solo being frozen in carbonite, as well as an enthusiastic endorsement from the Snow Miser, of The Year without a Santa Claus fame.

Obama concluded the presentation by adding, “Just think of it; we could choose not to thaw Biden’s mouth, not to mention parts of Newark.”
Share

Top 10: The Best Guinness in Las Vegas Revealed!

by  • 

Mick Zano

This post is over two years in the making, but only because I just learned how to use Word. It took longer for Bald Tony and I to complete this arduous Irish/Vegas pubcrawl than it took Frodo and Sam to journey to Mordor. Granted, we would have remained at the Green Dragon until the orcs razed the place, but, who knows, maybe Sauron would have kept us on as Middle-Earth beer tasters? Meet the new boss, same as the old boss. Yes Mr. Winslow, I just compared you to a dark sorcerer, but in a good way…really. Oh, on that note, I’ve just released a Nazgul toward Barad dur with our receipts.

My first visit to Sin City I realized this place took its Guinness seriously. So I finally assembled the pile of bar napkins, coasters, and scribbled notes into one comprehensive list of Vegas’ best of the best. This is my crowning achievement. This is the stuff of legacy and legend (sadly accurate where I am concerned). This top 10 list is by no means all inclusive. It’s the best on-line to date, at least for the moment. This is an attempt to rate the best Irish pubs anywhere in the greater Las Vegas metropolitan area. I actually pissed in all the corners, so I know the territory fairly well, but if you feel we missed your establishment just hit our Contact Us button and we’ll be there. Seriously, if you click the button we’ll be there within ten minutes. Or the pizza’s free. On the other hand, getting us to leave…I can offer no advice.

About 10 places did not make the cut, so let us never speak of them again. An honorable mention type shout out to the Crown & Anchor—a place completely disqualified for being an English Pub. Nevertheless it’s a great place with rare outdoor seating. I like the one on E. Tropicana; the little one on Spring Mountain is cramped and looks to have once been a Long John Silver’s. Oh, and Hennessey’s is number 11, because our lists go to 11. I like Hennessey’s. It’s located amidst the Fremont Street Experience—old Vegas, Hunter S. Thomson Vegas. This place gets a nod for location, location, location, but the pint, meanwhile, needs some improvement.

The Mulligan (not to be confused with Mulligan’s video poker) Award goes to the Todd English P.U.B. (public urban bar), located at City Center. Whereas I enjoyed the Double Grimmbergen very much, their Guinness remains the highest I have ever paid for a taste of old St. James’ Gate to date. It’s like nine bucks! And it’s among the most tasteless versions ever! I have notified the Men in Green (MIGs), who will be there shortly…and may the Lucky Charms leprechaun piss in your corn flakes.

I found it easier to break these puppies into tiers (within tiers there’s not as much difference in quality). And now, without further adieu, the much anticipated Top 10:

Tier 3 (the two that barely made the cut):

10. J.C. Wooloughans:

Truly the biggest disappourment. It’s located in the Rampart Casino, about as west as you can get and still be in Vegas. It happens to be ranked number 2 on another Irish pub listing. Oh, it’s number 2 all right. Where’s the TP? Maybe I hit it at a bad time, but I certainly wasn’t going to order another one, especially after a dry and uninspired turkey sandwich to boot. Boooo! I will never darken your doorstep again and, I assure you, this has nothing to do with your decision to bar me. This 10th spot is clearly in danger. So hit our Contact Us button Irish pub owner type peeps and I will gladly knock this bitch down a notch. And, remember, for a free pint you get a Discord exclusive. Yes, we are stout whores.

9. Murphy’s Law:

This is another one that is supposed to be a very highly rated joint, but I just wasn’t that impressed. This one is in danger of falling off the list as well. It might have lost some of its luster since I hit two of the medal winners in the same day, aka, it pale ale’d in comparison. Sorry, a pour joke for sure.

Tier 2 (solid pints of Guinness worthy of a stop):

8. Three Angry Wives:

Let’s be clear here. This is a sports bar. It has an awesome name, but Vegas needs to stop catering to the global ADHD populations. Vegas is a shiny neon, ever-changing ball that calls out to anyone who forgot to take their Ritalin that day. But I still have no use for sports bars outside of hockey season. The pint was surprisingly good, but let us never speak of it again.

7. Quinn’s (formerly Fado):

This place is located in the Green Valley Ranch Casino complex in Henderson. Same tap set up as Fado, just new owners. It has the slightest of bites in the after taste, but otherwise a solid pint…if I don’t slobber so myself.

6. Brendan’s (formerly Brendan’s):

Located in the Orleans Hotel, only a stone’s throw away from one of our medal winners, this place has no business being this good! We were only there to hit the comedy club next door. The guy literally poured the beer straight into a large hefe glass. He filled that wheat beer glass to the top in one shot and then swung the bitch over to me. No shit. My jaw dropped and I may have lost control of my bladder—which is unrelated, yet still noteworthy. Am I missing something? besides my adult diapers? Does that technique work in a hefe glass? I’m thinking this was more about beginner’s luck than anything else, because after the beer settled, some six hours later, it was damn good. BWTF??!

5. Sean Patrick’s:

A good Irish name. Admittedly, I was kind of drunk when I was here, but this didn’t hurt the scoring, nor should it. Vegas Great Bald Tony said I declared “this pint ROCKS!” before being escorted out. And his word is good…well, in increasingly small circles.

4. Auld Dubliner (a class by itself):

This is nearly top tier. It’s kind of in a class by itself (see earlier parenthesis). It’s just a smidge below the medal round, yet way better than most of the second tier rabble. Nice and creamy. The Auld Dubliner, in Lake Las Vegas Village, is actually a chain of about eight locations across the southwest. It had a nice set up and friendly staff….Kudos! I really like this place. This is the only top ten’r I journeyed to without the Great Bald One and, as those of you who know me can attest, I really should be supervised.

The Village is a Europeanesque group of restaurants and bars complete with cobblestone streets and piazzas (I recommend the pepperoni). By the way, they call every stinky little canal in the southwest a lake. Come to think of it, the smell probably adds some authenticity to the place. I’m waiting for them to name one of them Canal Superior or something. Let’s hope our failing economy doesn’t kill The Village too quickly as it is about the most unique spot this side of Tuscany. Oh, and Candace and Whitney were great hostesses who both thwarted my advances like pros (aka, the usual).

Tier 1 (The Medal Round!!!):

3. McMullan’s:

McMullans

This is the best all around Irish pub in Vegas! And probably the best overall establishment as well. It’s just west of the Strip and it’s a real Irish pub—not some casino nook carve out, or mall-mart special like the rest of these posers. The layout is awesome, the beer is wonderful, the food is great, and there’s a rare outside area to enjoy your brew in the sunny Mohave. This is one of my happy places.

2. Nine Fine Irishmen:

Nine Fine Fisherman

This place is the more traditional winner. It’s actually the winner, but just about everyone designates this place as numero uno and I am not everyone. I have been to Nine Fine Irishmen six or seven times now and I have never had anything but the perfect pint. They go through so many kegs each day—about nine (ten when I’m there)—and it’s just such a fresh wonderful pour every time. It’s located in the New York New York casino and it’s another one of my happy places. Start spreading the brews! Sorry. It’s the Guinness talking…trust me, it’s better than what it says later.

And the winner is…wait for it…

1.Ri’ Ra’!!!!!:

Ri Ra

Actually, I placed Ri’ Ra’ as #1 just as a shocker. Nine Fine Irishmen and this place are both neck and neck, but wow did they put a pint in front of me. Ri’ Ra’ set out to make a statement in the Las Vegas world and I want to help them in their quest. Is it better than our number two and three contestants? Not sure, but it’s awesome and it’s been there about three minutes, so I urge you to check it out. In the malls where I am from they had Spencer Gifts and the Gap…this place could make me a Smithian Mall Rat out of me yet.

Umm, but we didn’t get off on the right foot with the Ri’ Ra’ians. Three pretty women in black (WIB) were guarding the door. Are you the gate keeper? Apparently, a high roller had rented the whole joint out for a private party, so we were not permitted into the establishment, per se. Sadly, I relayed some un-pleasantries (not directed at the pretty ladies, of course, but I asked them to pass along our general disgust to the high roller in question). Didn’t they recognize Vegas Great Bald Tony? Well, they’re new, so we’ll cut them some slack. My vision of this “private party” was of a bunch of wine spritzer, non-Guinness drinking Mafioso types, watching a football game…Notre Dames vs. Notre Dudes or some nonsense (sorry MJ!).

So outside of Ri’ Ra’ I had this moment of profound sadness and angst—of fear and loathing, if you will. We had only come to the Mandalay Bay region for the christenings of this latest of Vegas Strip Irish pubs. Now we would have to settle for free pictures with Pete Rose at the Sound of Music next door.  NOOOoooooo! Damn you Ri’ Ra’!!

I told Tony, “I have to get in there! They have, not one, but two of those groovy Celtic doohickey’s over their name. It has to be good!”

So I coaxed Tony into heading down an adjacent hallway where we were able to sneak in the backdoor, albeit barely, and made our way barward. Within a few minutes, not only were we enjoying one of the best Guinness pints EVER, but the bartender, Fitzy, took my picture to commemorate our awful deed.

Mick Zano at Ri Ra
I really look like that…it’s the lightening, really

Fitzy hails from New Jersey, or so he told me with a thick Irish accent. Ri’ Ra’ means fun, excitement, and ruckus. It’s also the same letters as the Real Irish Republican Army, so what better place to do an Irish car bomb? Of course, now that I Googled Real Irish Republican Army, I will never be allowed to fly to Ireland, but isn’t America awesome!

On the way out Tony talked me out of my idea to tell the women, you know, the ones who wouldn’t let us in:

“Mr. Such & such is not pleased you turned away his close personal friends.  He would like to speak to you immediately.”

In Riraspect, Tony was probably right. The beer was great, Fitzy was great, and eventually I need to learn to behave myself.

Congrats Ri’ Ra’!!!
Share

Winnipeg Wilderness Wipes out Warm Weather Wussies

by  • 

Winnipeg Wilderness Wipes out Warm Weather Wussies

Winnipeg, MB—The start of training camp for the newly relocated Winnipeg Jets met with tragedy last weekend.  The team had just moved to the great white north from Atlanta, GA for the beginning of the 2011-2012 season. Only minutes after the start of their first formal practice, the entire team froze to death right in the arena. Apparently the players could not adjust to the sudden change from Warm Oceanic (Cfa) to a more Temperate Continental (Dfa) climate.

“We should have known better,” stated Jim Ludlow, CEO of True North Sports and Entertainment, owner of the Winnipeg Jets. “When the last team moved from Winnipeg to Phoenix, the team never made it off the tarmac.  The entire team spontaneously combusted right there at Sky Harbor Airport. The folks down in Phoenix had to have a barbeque fundraiser to put together a new team.  Luckily, they had plenty of cooked meat on-hand.  The Koho Coyote skewer was a real crowd pleaser.”

Prior to the move to Winnipeg there was talk of originally moving the team to Kansas City. In hindsight that would probably have been a more prudent move.

When asked what the path forward was for the Winnipeg Jets, Mr. Ludlow replied, “I guess we’ll have an ice-cream social.”
Share

Ask The Ghetto Shaman

by  • 

Ask The Ghetto Shaman

Dear Ghetto Shaman,

Did you hear?  Archeologists have discovered ancient sperm in the eye sockets of some Brazilian crystal skulls.  Is this further proof of your Tao of Skull Fucking? Or are the natives just gnawing on too many roots?

Okie4

Dear Okie4,

A rare person who understands my work!   You speak of the Legend of Crystal Skull Humpers.   I think my next book Indiana Jonesing and the Temple of Spooge will vindicate my theory, or put me back in jail. I’m sure it’s one of the two. 

The Ghetto Shaman
Share

Vegas San Gennaro: Leave the Feast, Take the Cannoli

by  • 

Bald Tony

Mick Zano was supposed to come for *sigh* yet another visit earlier this month.  Due to circumstances beyond his control he had to delay a week.  Unfortunately I was working overtime, so it looked like things were going to be a bust.  Then, being the good friend and inadequate employee I am, I timed Zano’s visit with a three day suspension.  Whoo Hoo!  So, to be clear, I would not be getting paid for three days AND spending extra money.   Dave Ramsey would not be pleased.

I have enjoyed going to different festivals around town, and attended the San Gennaro Feast several times.  I missed it this May, but September was going to be a lock, especially since it had moved to a more central valley location, the Rio Hotel & Casino.

So there we were, two yutes—well, compared to The Crank—looking for My Cousin Guinea. The SGF is five days long, and I usually go during the week and at night to avoid the huge crowds and daytime heat.   With Zano in tow I broke both of those commandments and went on a blistering sunny Saturday just as the gates opened.  Five minutes later I realized my mistake when Zano proclaimed, “What have carnies done to my Italian grandmother?!”  

San Gennaro Feast

It all went downhill from there.  I should have known better than to bring an Italian guy who only wanted to get to the next Irish pub.

He immediately started with his infamous Longuyland kvetching, “I’ve been to the real San Gennaro Feast in the real Little Italy, and it’s twice as big, twice as many days, no cover charge, more food and drink, yada, yada, yada.” 

I hate to admit when Zano is right, but he had a point.  The first three food dishes we ordered “weren’t ready yet.”  And we did not enter the Feast and run to the food vendors.  We scoped the action for an hour before turning our stomachs foodward.

San Gennaro No Feast

Mmmm, not prepared yet

Did the vendors think people would not eat before noon?  Another disappointment was the lack of entertainment.  At night, there are street performers and musicians roaming the Feast.  During the day it was Rio security and Las Vegas police, which made Zano twitchier than a paranoid schizophrenic on meth (especially with the strip club limo incident fresh in his mind).

We said arrivederci to the SGF barely two hours after entering, by far the least amount of time I have ever spent there.  In order to have at least one authentic Italian experience, I knocked out Zano and stuffed his carcass in the trunk on the way to our next destination.   Instead of drinking with the Irish, he’ll be sleeping with the fishes. 

Next week is the Greek Food Festival.  OPA!  The week after that is the Asian Food Festival. The next week is the Renaissance Festival.  I don’t plan on letting Zano out of the trunk before then.  Actually I think I’ll just leave him at McMullan’s next time.   Oh wait, he’s persona non grata there.  Well, I guess I could leave him at an Irish pub where he’s welcome.  Hmmmm, good thing I have several months to find one.

Share

Merkel Agrees to EU Bailouts Only if Greece Submits to a Drug Test

by  • 

Merkel Agrees to EU Bailouts Only if Greece Submits to a Drug Test

Berlin, DE—The Chancellor of Germany, Angela Merkel, has decided to pull out her oversized purse one more time to save Europe.  However, she did warn European leaders today there will be stipulations.  First, she is insisting the country of Greece undergo a drug test within 24 hours.  If any illicit substances show up in the country’s system, she will not help until it “seeks professional help.”

Merkel is also insisting Portugal “pull in their nets and open a proper factory already.”

Merkel reminded Portugal that it’s 2011, not 1011.  She then encouraged the country to “Febreze itself immediately and put on a tie.”

Merkel also reports a growing resentment toward the Brits. “Even if they were to join the EU tomorrow, I wouldn’t lift a finger to help them.  Not until England successfully completes an anger management program, facilitated by a licensed professional.”

She then called them schwankers and made an obscene gesture known only to German Chancellors.   

Share

Searching for New Investors: The Blues Mobiles are Dead

by  • 

The Crank

Have I got the investment for you! Over the years, as we grow older, our needs change. We start life in diapers, go on to tighty whities, and on to boxers, then, well, back to diapers. We start out sleeping all day, then at night, then not even then, then at night again, then all day, just intermittently. Our lives come full circle, but there is one area that has disappeared from the scene. Old people cars…complete with deploying Depends feature.

Always derided, never appreciated, the butt of a century of jokes, old people’s cars have still always been there for us. The day we traded in that old truck, or sports car, for the Buick Lesabre, Chevy Caprice, or Ford Crown Vic, was a day we all hoped would never come…yet it came nevertheless. And the cars were always there, waiting, almost with a grin, saying to us Resistance Is Futile. You get old, you buy a Buick, you drive slower and slower, you get short, and you die, simple as that. Then the nephew you end up leaving the car to just enters it in the next Demolition Derby. Best of all worlds, he even paints your name on the side in day-glow orange rattle can.

Herein lies the conundrum. In order to fulfill our destiny, we are pre-destined by our gene pool for our “last ride” as it were, to be large, quiet, smooth, with 4 doors (preferably no day-glow rattle can sayings yet), kind of like driving a simulator, or better yet, a video game. Only those properties will safely see us off into the netherworld, and we all know we won’t get past the Pearly Gates without one. But here’s the rub…those cars no longer exist. The last Chevy Caprice remained police cars until ’96. The last real full-sized Buick was the Park Avenue in 2004. Today I realized the Crown Vic, the car that started as a cop car, went on to live as a taxi, ending its life as a three room apartment for illegals, will cease production this fall.

Simultaneously, we as a nation are looking at an increase in the number of old people like never  before. We baby boomers are all about to come of age, with retirement monies in hand, and nary a fat-assed car to be seen.   And, if not for us, what about my nephew’s Demolition Derby dream?  Or stock prices for rattle can spray paint?

I realized just how stupid the powers that be in Detroit are. Just as they have fully integrated the “young” into the new automobile, they have left all us walking history lessons sans ride.  Here is where the investment comes in…

In 2007, Russia bought all the tooling for what is arguably the worst car to come out of Detroit in a century, the Chrysler Sebring, and now manufactures it in Siberia somewhere. They’re selling like hotcakes. Russians are not the brightest bulb on the international chandelier, so the Sebring must look like a fucking Bentley compared to what they are used to.

What we need now is for somebody who wants to be THE ONLY GAME IN TOWN, for some 30 million crypt keepers.  Please just step up and leave your money on the table. I want to purchase the rights and tooling for the 2004 Buick Park Avenue. There are some 25 old factories still left in Michigan, and with near 20% unemployment, workers will not be hard to find. The ’04 Park Ave (the last year they were made) was the largest, most fuel efficient, most powerful, roomiest, most durable, safest, most reliable car that ever came out of Detroit (4 doors, 5 body trunk, 25 mpg, big old 3.9 V6 with front wheel drive…and nearly invisible, might I add). Cops never saw them, thieves never wanted them. If you left one in the Bronx with the doors unlocked and the keys in the ignition overnight, you would return the following day to see a note on the windshield saying “We locked it up for you, keys under the mat, please don’t do that again.”

Time to step forward…come on, who wants to make a killing? It can’t lose. Old people cannot even get into the new cars, physically. The high side bolsters on the seats are like the Matterhorn to an old ass. We want a large flat soft leather seat, like a Barcalounger, where you can almost here Ricardo Montalban saying, “fine Corinthian leather” or even “I’ll chase him ’round the moons of Nibia and ’round the Antares Maelstrom and ’round Perdition’s flames before I give him up!”  Sorry.  Sometimes I Khan help myself.

Don’t forget, low slung bucket-type seats will make the cars seem driverless to oncoming traffic. Rescue workers will need the Jaws of Life to get them out after a nasty accident. We want ass-height seating. We don’t get down into, or up into anything. We sit, period. No low-slung sports cars or high-riding SUV’s for us, oh no. Open door, plant ass, swing in legs. Oh, and I think a feature that shuts off the turn signal after five miles would be an added bonus. 

I plan marketing to be full page ads with large type in: AARP Monthly, Osteoporosis Today, Depends Newsletter, and on TV on Dancing with the Stars, and on re-runs of Marcus Welby M.D., Matlock and Perry Mason. I also plan a tour of Senior Living areas all over the southwest and Florida.

Invest now, at my website www.phatOldRide.com. Be a part of the future and the past at the same time. See the ‘new’ 2013 Cruiseship Sedan.

The ‘new’ 2013 Cruiseship Sedan

The CRANK
Share

ASPCA Mistakenly Euthanizes Tea Party Congressman

by  • 

ASPCA Mistakenly Euthanizes Tea Party Congressman

Topeka, KS—Congressman Stanley Farrell (R) was reportedly very angry with allegations that the Tea Party played a key role in the stock market’s recent turbulence.  People who knew him, described him as prone to political fits and tirades.  He often barked about wanting a smaller government and lower taxes.

“He’s been just furious with President Obama’s liberal agenda,” said his wife Megan.  “Last week he got much worse.  He was frothing at the mouth and chasing cars around that have progressive bumper stickers.”

ASPCA workers claim he was angry, and it was hard to make sense of his anger.

“He left us no choice,” said Rin Tim Tim of the ASPCA.  “We did not have any clue he was a Congressman at the time of the lethal injection…or even a human for that matter.” 

The ASPCA President told Discord reporters he has no remorse.

“Look, if another furry politician comes into one of our locations and starts biting people and accusing them of being socialist-illegals, we’re going to do the same damn thing.” 

Share

Ask The Ghetto Shaman

by  • 

Ask The Ghetto Shaman

Dear Ghetto Shaman,

What exactly is going to happen in 2012?

Mike Dresden

Smithtown, NY

Dear Mike,

I will no longer be on parole in the State of Pennsylvania. 

The Ghetto Shaman
Share

Live-Blogging the Republican Debate on Opiates

by  • 

Mick Zano

After watching the show Monday night, I have to admit to being wrong.  These candidates are really shaping up to be a prepared, well-informed group of individuals.  Oh, you mean the Republican candidates…I was talking about American Idol.  Sorry.  I only wish Trump and Palin were there to share in the Thorazine love.  Speaking of Thorazine, why isn’t Glenn Beck running?  I think if those three came on board, you’d have a nice representative slice of Americana…the criminally deranged slice.

8:15PM:  Started late because of the Daily Show monologue, damn.  Well, I have to get my real news somewhere.   I just got here and it’s already looking like Republicans have officially cornered the market on fear, paranoia, and stupidity.  At least they’re sticking with their strengths. 

8:30PM:  Good, Santorum is talking.  I can take a bio break.  The great thing about Rick is I won’t miss Dick.

8:40PM:  Oh boy, Romney is bordering on making sense on healthcare…no boos yet.  He better watch the whole ‘broaching reality’ thing with this bunch. 

8:45PM:  The jobs bill…hmmm, Obama had something to do with that, right?  So can I get a hardy round of F-NOs?  Of course I can. 

8:50PM:  Really, Perry?  The stimulus is a complete failure, one hundred percent? It created not a single job…ever?  I’ll tell you one thing it did do, it allowed you to coin the phrase “the Obama Depression” tonight, so be thankful for every penny of it, you uninformed putz. 

9:00PM: Bachmann just said she’s a voice in the wilderness…if only.  Someone keeps letting her back inside!  She finished her soliloquy by saying it’s not that hard to turn this economy around…sure it isn’t, if you’re a heartless wench, unburdened by even rudimentary math skills.

9:15PM:  Bachmann and Santorum just owned Perry by pigeonholing him as being in cahoots with Big Government.  Wow, this reminds of me when Mothra and Godzilla teamed up to take out Monster-X.  Just as many buildings seem to be burning in the background it seems…or is that principles?

9:25PM: Yeah, the coordinated attack on Romneycare has begun, right on schedule.  It looks like Mothra’s wings are on fire.  Oooooh nooooo, they’re booing?  Real Americans are booing the death of other real Americans without health insurance… Yep, the Foxeteers keep stooping to new lows; no easy trick when you already started out in the Marianas Trench. 

9:30PM:  Santorum’s back on.  Beer break.  Sorry. I lived in PA during some of this guy’s reign and I’ve heard enough of him to last several lifetimes.  What’s strange is he’s really stupid, yet not popular?  Thus he’s sort of a Tea Party anomaly. 

9:40PM:  Blah, blah, blah.  Yeah, I’m banging hub right now.  It’s calming me down.  I think I’ll also play the Kermit the Frog version of Hurt.   It helps…… to see if I still feel.

9:46PM:  Santorum’s back on and I don’t need anything yet.  Crap.  Good time to take out the recyclables.  Yep, he’s talking about American exceptionalism again, as if it still has any relevance in 2011.  These days America is special all right, but only in the same way that…nope, can’t go there.

9:50PM:  Wow…I’ll say one thing, these people aren’t nearly as jazzed about bombing and occupying Iran and Syria as they once were.  Hmmm.  Expensive toys don’t fly anymore, even cool ones with rockets—no doubt an unintended side effect of W.

I survived!  It was a close one, but I made it.  What struck was this:  boos were synonymous with the truth on any given topic.  When an inconvenient truth reared its ugly head, the mob reacted with disdain, aka, whenever their Fox sensibilities were challenged (aka, the programming).  Sure they applauded at some good things and some bad things, but those boos were the most telling.  Never has the neo-cocoon been more evident.  Hold on, neocons have actually morphed into isolationist, government-shrinking morons (IGSMs).  They’re the same people, just a little less insightful.  I will need to change the name of this delusional bubble of non-reality…you know, that magical place where most conservative types now reside.  How about the Tea Planet?

Just for the record, I’m fine with some government shrinkage, I just want it conducted by someone without brain shrinkage.

It seems like each candidate refuses to drink from the cup of stupid on at least one topic, minus Bachmann, of course, who is always two-fisting the stuff.  For the last round of debates it was McCain and torture.  Remember that?  He wasn’t going to play that game, for obvious reasons.  For Romney, it’s a reasonably compassionate view on healthcare.  So he’s doomed.  Even Perry got one right by saying the Great Wall of Texas would be a bad idea—followed by more booing, of course.  Regardless of your opinion on immigration a physical wall thousands of miles long is about the stupidest idea going for sure.

When Ron Paul mentioned, just like in 04’, how our own military occupations were cited by Al-Qaeda as a reason for 9/11, everyone booed.  They booed so loud he couldn’t even finish.

“Does not compute with American exceptionalism, warning, boo louder, warning, his words are hurting our ears.  Boooo!”

They wouldn’t even let him finish one of the few accurate statements of the evening.

One particularly incensed Tea Planeter interviewed after the debate told NPR, “We want to fight them there, so we don’t have to fight them over here.”

Wonder where she got that one?  OK, you win this round.  Why would Al-Qaeda have any insight into their own motivation?  Touché, Foxeteers.  Ron Paul is mentioning something called a fact…and facts no longer have any place in a Republican debate, unless they happen to jive with your less than stellar ideology.   Boooo yourselves!

In 04’ it was Giuliani who attacked Paul after this comment and this year it was Santorum, on cue.  Yep, actual history will never get in the way of their revisionist history.  None of them have learned anything with one notable exception, spending…there isn’t going to be any—even as it relates to potential military operations.  Thus Neocons have morphed into Tea Planeters.  This is progress…maybe.  But their candidates remain truly frightening.  It’s not a surprise such candidates exist, but the story is this: they’re popular.  I mean, they resonate with huge swaths of our society.  Why isn’t anyone talking about the implications of this?  To put it in perspective, if America was at the ASPCA we’d be put down by now. 

That’s my two cents, well, one cent…I can’t afford two right now; things are a little tight.  Time to listen to Kermit the Frog again and bang the last of my hub.  That’s an expression.  I think it’s drug related.
Share

Osama Bin Laden’s Wife Claims Pot was “Mellowing him Out”

by  • 

Osama Bin Laden’s Wife Claims Pot was "Mellowing him Out"

Abbottabad, PK—More and more information is surfacing about the last days of Osama Bin Laden’s life.  His second wife, who wished to remain faceless, said, “Pot was finally starting to mellow him out. He talked less about terror plots and more about the lack of any nearby convenience stores in Abbottabad.  ‘Convenience stores are supposed to be convenient,’ he would say.  Then he would laugh at jokes like that for hours.”

As he began smoking absurd amounts of marijuana, he all but stopped his Facebook Meetup terror groups.  According to many, he was shifting his future goals away from Jihad toward opening a hemp stand somewhere.

“He didn’t want to kill anymore,” said another wife.  “In fact, he was starting to quote John Lennon songs a lot and wanted to run off to meet that Beatles Yogi guy.”

“He started running around with a new group of friends,” said still another wife.  “The beatings all but stopped and no more ‘human shield’ duty on weekends.  It was nice.  He still enforced Sharia Law, but only when he managed to stop giggling.”

U.S. Navy Seals are supporting these claims.  They confirm large amounts of marijuana were growing in Bin Laden’s compound and, during Operation Geronimo, he was found half baked and watching a Baywatch Marathon. 

Share

The Goonification of Lovecraft: Why Universal Pictures is Dead to Me

by  • 

Mick Zano

Hey Universal Pictures, H.P. Lovecraft is not a Goonies movie!  Since we have been a little Cthulhu-heavy lately here at the Discord, we must mention our insane—clawing at our own entrails—disappointment in the decision to cancel Guillermo Del Toro’s version of At the Mountains of Madness.  Universal insisted Del Toro make this 150-million dollar horror extravaganza with a PG-Rating.  Have you ever read any Lovecraft, Mr. Universal dude? You would have better luck making Shaving Ryan’s Privates a bleeping G-Rating!  …which, by the way, was a really important film in its own right.

No doubt, Universal is trying to universally rook more money out of the general populous. And, because of this, I am at the very Mountains of Madness myself right now.  I have conjured up both an Old One and a Deep One in your honor, Mr. Universal dude.  That’s Cthulhu talk for “I fart in your general direction, you sons of a Hollywood person.” 

By the way, the Mountains of Madness do differ slightly from the Cliffs of Insanity, but there is some shared mythical geology somewhere, I’m sure.   I have said for years we need a real Lovecraft movie.  Whereas I have enjoyed some of these cheap low budget extravaganzas, most of them were done not so much with a blue screen as a blue crayon.  Most of these attempts, nay, all of these attempts did not capture the true essence of Lovecraft.  You know, that lichen-covered, ancient ruins of Unknown Kadath all dripping with Old One atmosphere kind of thing.  I want a movie almost exuding with the smell of rotting flesh and rotting vegetation…no, I’m not talking about Spy Kids 4 (although, that should get honorable mention).

Most Lovecraft adaptations have left me feeling like ripping out my own eyeballs…and not in a good way.  Lovecraft is arguably the master of horror, so how did you expect Del Toro to introduce entrail-ripping insanity to the youngens? I realize they have Cthulhu beanie babies, but I still think you’re missing a few steps there, Sunshine.  It’s like Universal is trying to reduce Cthulhu to the God of paper cuts or something. “Oh the darkness, the madness, it’s making me want to poke myself repeatedly with this stapler! Ouch, ouch.  Oh the humanity! Ouch.”  Give me a break. 

This could have been one of the movies of a lifetime, instead of Universal’s attempt to turn it into a Lifetime movie.  But someone still needs to do this.  Either Universal needs to let Del Toro work his R-rated magic or someone else needs to pick up the tentacled torch.  Del Toro could have made this a true movie event, an epic not seen since Frankenhooker (which, by the way, you should consider making a sequel of as well). 

Letting this movie slither by is a monstrously large missed opportunity, pardon the pun.  It’s an insult no one has made a Peter Jackson/Tim Burton type attempt at Lovecraft.  In the age of endless repeats from Adam’s Family VII to Adam’s Family: The Next Generation, I think it’s time to take the plunge into the eschatological mind-fuck that is H.P. Lovecraft.  If done correctly, this movie will leave you feeling like…well, I think this picture sums it up nicely:

If done the way Universal Pictures wanted it done, ummm, I think those Photoshoppers over at the Discord said it best:

Squidthulhu!

Hold the phone…Tom Cruise was supposed to be in it!?  Why wasn’t I told?  How about calling it At the Casting of Madness?  Geesh.  Never mind, perhaps all is for the best. 

Share