In re: The Great Schlep, my good friend Aaron’s good friend Ivan was far too charitable to a pisspoor joke.
“You know why your grandparents don’t like Barack Obama? Because his name sounds scary, it sounds Muslim, which he’s obviously not. Yes. Barack Hussein Obama, it’s a super fucking shitty name. But you’d think that somebody named Manischewitz Guberman might understand that.
“Please call Stella. Ask her to bring these things with her from the store: Six spoons of fresh snow peas, five thick slabs of blue cheese, and maybe a snack for her brother Bob. We also need a small plastic snake and a big toy frog for the kids. She can scoop these things into three red bags, and we will go meet her Wednesday at the train station.
the speech accent archive, a compendium of recordings of accents from around the world, set to Dadaist poetry
via Design Info
UPDATE: Neven adds one to the bag. I think it’s “Mid-Atlantic Muppet”.
Cutlery Barn
The Great Gesticulator (1924) - “Fighting Bob” La Follette, first radio campaign speech
Can anyone help me track down video from The State, Episode 308 for the “Senator Cavanaugh” campaign ad? It’s from the same episode as “Taco Man”, and it goes a little something like this:
Senator Martin Cavanaugh thinks automatic rifles should be available to pre-pubescent girls with epileptic conditions.
Arnold Brown Doesn’t.
Senator Cavanaugh voted for rabid pit bulls to be doused in gas and set loose in this city’s Alzheimer wards.
Arnold Brown voted against it.
Senator Cavanaugh thinks breathing out his back, and changing his name to Sir Jaervy Barzenblatz would be the best way to cure marsupials of their pouches.
Arnold Brown doesn’t waste his time with such nonsense.
But he does use a colostomy bag.
Senator Martin Cavanaugh. A complete lunatic, but at least he doesn’t crap through his stomach into a bag.
photo via Shorpy, script via daftchris8
“…I sometimes harbor this fantasy that a bunch of homosexuals will break into my apartment (not as sexy as it sounds), then dramatically toss the contents of my dresser out the window, throw me into their Ford Escape (a proud sponsor of the reality show in my head), and re-build my wardrobe and home furnishings from scratch. That seems like a very millennial kind of longing. Only in the last ten years or so has it become conceivable, and even probable, that at some point in your life a bunch of colorful characters will kick in your door and solve your problems reality TV-style. I don’t mind rushing around, or having my friends “confess” that I dress like a narc who’s gone undercover in a Midwest high school. I would let someone take a pair of scissors to my Batman t-shirt or bulky sweaters or dozens of nearly identical cowboy shorts and cargo shorts. They can destroy them and replace them with suits and ties and and monogrammed undershirts and trench coats for wet and cold weather. I don’t care—they can burn everything I own, as long as they stay away from my purple Nike Dunks. That’s my favorite pair.
Channeling Rodney Dangerfield
“I’m a PC and a human being. Not a human doing. Not a human thinking. A human being.”
Mmmmmmmm. Let that soak in. Cuddle up in that downy blanket of good feeling. For these are the divine words of Deepak Chopra, one of the many persons of note (?) rising to the name ‘Spartacus’ in the 2nd go at a Windows rebranding (a project phase internally named ”Lowered Expectations” at Crispin Porter + Bogusky).
Fictional anthropomorphized computer Chopra elucidates: “You see, one must not do things. And one must not even think things. One must simply be. Things.” To which I find myself, notepad in hand, conference badge on neck, nodding in vigorous approval.
Until I am overcome by the spirit of Rodney Dangerfield (himself, an anthropomorphized urinal cake), who has this to say in response: ”That’s an excellent point, Doctor. About what, I have no idea. (I am a urinal cake.)”
I echo Gruber’s sentiments when I say that Dr. Chopra, Windows mascot, “says nothing, but pretends to say something.” What a tremendous failure in advertising. Yuck. Get it off me.
Disney Lab Unveils its Latest Line of Genetically Engineered Child Stars
In Which a Caption in a Piece About Model-spotting Made Me Laugh
