Blog Archives

the Weatherman

If you haven’t seen the hilarious “Weather Man” with Nick Cage, I highly suggest you get on that.

Now, I know my sense of humor and taste in movies is not the same as everyone in the world.  So if you like movies about bunnies and romance and little happy children running around singing songs, I recommend something in the children’s department.  If, however, you have a sense of sass and silliness, check this movie out.

Nick Cage is always at his best when he plays nutballs.  In this movie he has a variety of personal issues to contend with, ranging from a very problematic short term memory to confronting difficult family matters, like how to handle the complicated issue of his daughter’s frequent camel toe.

Favorite scene from the movie is as follows:  Dave Spritz is supposed to be out getting tartar sauce for the take out meal he is bringing home.  He is notorious for forgetting to bring things home.  If his wife could hop inside his brain for a minute, she might understand why it’s so hard for him to do small tasks…here is his inner conversation, as he stands behind a woman on the street with a particularly nice ass:

“Man, I’d like to put my face in there. Right in there. Tartar sauce. My hips are cold. Tartar sauce. That’s when you know its cold. I like eating pussy. Tartar sauce. A lot of guys don’t. Well maybe they do. Maybe that’s just black guys. Tartar sauce. What happened to the guy who was trying to fly around the world in a balloon? Did he make it? I should put some espionage or stolen plutonium in my novel. Tartar sauce. Spice it up. Neil Young. Fuck, its cold. Neil Young. Wh-why am I thinking about Neil Young. Neil Diamond. Neil… Theres not a lot of famous Neils. Is this Wednesday? I wish I had two dicks. I thought the whole family was going to learn Spanish together this year. That never really happened. I haven’t had a Spanish omelette in a long time. [street light turns green] Here we go.”

fishing from beyond

If I were to try to do something beyond the grave, it wouldn’t be fishing.  It would be something I love, like having sex, or watching Twilight Zones, or trying to eat other people’s food even though I’m dead and I really can’t enjoy the flavors anymore.  Fishing isn’t really my thing.  But apparently there is someone on my morning walk who is still trying to get his fly on.

Last year I noticed a fishing line, draped passionately over a telephone wire.  Of course, if you are the average, boxed-in type thinker, you will just assume someone got their line caught while casting off.  I’m sure that is frustrating.  I, however, immediately thought that someone had been called away to heaven, and despite the happiness one might have when realizing you are going UP instead of the other direction, this recently vacanted being wanted to hang on to his fishing pole and get in one last catch.

It seems he was successful in convincing the authorities that he should stay around a little bit longer, and guard the waters, or continue plucking fishies from their homes, whichever he is capable of in his newly ghostly state.  I’m calling him Fisherman Bill.  Here are some shots of him I think you’ll like:

skullduggery

skullduggery:  trickery; unfair, dishonest practices and goings on

i ADORE this word.  wish i’d made it up.  it has a dark, sinister, piratey feel to it, and its flavor makes using it a brilliant feat of genius.  not that i have occasion to use it often, but i see it from time to time in books.  it always makes me smile.  it makes me think of a pirate on a deserted beach, hiding the bones of some hapless victim, burying them deep in the sand.  because clearly the victim found out too much information about the treasure, or rum, or female companion, and he needed a good place to rest for a while anyway.  it gets so hot out there.

so this is one of my all-time favorite words.

skullduggery

tune in later this week for more complete nonsense and superfluous drivel