bumpty, bumpty.

the main question about cop rock is usually, “how did this ever happen?” but i’d rather know, “why couldn’t this exist in the DVR age?”

disappointed face.


the golden age.


yesterday and today.



and today:

Continue reading ‘yesterday and today.’

please exist soon: wake n’ bacon

though it’s been in my consciousness for a number of years now, it now seems more important than ever — what with the economy tanking, worldwide food shortages, and gary busey — to ask one important question to the millionaire risk-takers of the world: throw some money behind wake n’ bacon and get this fucker made. we’ve skirted by on the brink of annihilation for far too long as a civilization without our bacon being prepared already when we wake up. let’s right this wrong. and then darfur.

“elegant women are very rare, i’m greek.”

so, guy meets girl. girl reluctantly gives guy phone number. guy calls soon after, gives best stalk pep-talk.

or, as put by the person who posted this awesome voice mail message (the video of which is largely irrelevant):

Okay guys here is the info on this voicemail. One of my friend’s from work and her friend were out one night in the SF Marina district and were hanging outside of the bars trying to find a cab. One of the girl’s, Olga ends up meeting this guy Dmitri and they talk for at the most 2 minutes. She hands him her business card and says call me.

Well attached is the actual voicemail that this guy left her. Wait till you hear it you will be laughing so hard you’ll fall out of your chair.

some thoughts on two seminal versions of the seminal phil collins jam, “sussudio”

in the first version, a bloodless blond muppet spazz-dances and lip synchs to an abbreviated version of SUSSUDIO to a triumvirate of judges seemingly comprised of his grandmothers:

a few reactions:

1. if you surround it with a blue sport coat and wear white pants, even a trapper keeper can look stylish.

2. puttin on the kids (incidentally, could this title be more appropriate?) could not afford a fake microphone for duffy to hold, but he deftly improvised.

3. ever wonder if a series of overlapping triangles would constitute a suitable background for a talent competition? how about now?

4. “oh, your dad’s name is normal? and he called you ‘duffy?’ what an ass.”

5. as a tv show host, the pinnacle of your profession is inversely proportional to how frequently you must interview your guests from your knees.

in the second rendition, an emaciated, considerably-less-talented, 1980s manchild version of david archuleta joins fergie (and backup dancer mario lopez!) in a rollicking shriekfest the likes of which only child star factory kids incorporated could have produced:

1. ha ha. fergie.

front pages of accidental irony, msnbc.com edition