Recently in The Funny Category

I usually shy away from topical announcements on this site, particularly for events that are occurring within a 24-hour window. However, I did so a while ago when one of my comedy heroes, Martin Short, appeared on The Best Show on WFMU. So I feel duty bound to do it again, because on tonight's installment, host Tom Scharpling will share the airwaves with Chris Elliott.

Good god, I love Chris Elliott. The mere mention of his name brings a smile to my face. His appearances on David Letterman basically invented the Late Night Talk Show. Without Chris Elliott, whither Conan O'Brien? Nither, I say.



For Get a Life alone, he deserves to be bronzed and placed atop a comedy pedestal. Get a Life was like the Velvet Underground of comedy nerd-dom. Few people watched it, but everyone who did went on to do amazing things. Oh, and I watched it, too.



If you haven't seen Eagleheart, Elliott's new Adult Swim show, get on it. It's basically Walker: Texas Ranger starring him as an ass-kicking, name-taking marshall, and is every bit as great as that premise implies.

To hear him be awesome on the radio tonight, tune into 91.1 on your dial at 9pm sharp. Or if you're not in the NY area, go to WFMU.org to listen over the interwebs. DO IT.

I would be remiss if I let this day go by without mentioning that it is the second anniversary of the Best Show Gems podcast. You've no doubt seen me prattle on about The Best Show on WFMU on this site (like last week, for instance). Best Show Gems is a "bite-sized" version of the show that appears biweekly, and contains some of the program's most hilarious segments. If you've never listened to show, Best Show Gems is a great entry point into its hilarity and the mythology of the fictional town of Newbridge, New Jersey.

The podcast is curated by Martin Degrell, who does a great job and is also an awesome guy. And he hails from Sweden, thus proving that the greatness of The Best Show transcends oceans, continents, and language barriers (well, as long as you speak English).

Check out this week's installment, a segment from 2003, when a man calls up offering to be host Tom Scharpling's personal magician. You shan't regret it.

This week's edition of The Best Show on WFMU brought another gem (what else is new?). Host Tom Scharpling did a one-man two-guy podcast--Podcastin' with Gary and Roy!--complete with blown out mikes, widely divergent sound levels, and awful music. For some reason, calling it Podcastin' cracks me up. It vaguely reminds me of The Hangin' Out Gang.

Poorly produced podcasts might seem like low-hanging fruit, and they totally are, but I think sometimes the joke isn't in the target, it's how you aim at it. Several folks at FriendsofTom.com expressed the desire to hear these bits isolated, without any setup, as if they were actual podcasts, and I have done just that. Please enjoy these three "episodes" of Podcastin' with Gary St. Cloud and Roy Harburton (or "Jiggle the Handle," as I believe @eastwes referred to it, a reference to Tom's denouncing of podcasts as bastions of "toilet talk").

You may also be happy to know that Gary and Roy are already on Twitter. Follow away.

Podcastin' pt. 1


Podcastin' pt. 2

I am on record as digging the new sports/parody show Onion Sportsdome. There's been wildly divergent opinions on this program on the interwebs. Some folks are extremely disappointed, others hate it. I think it occasionally borders on the genius, as both a pitch-perfect parody of SportsCenter and for being just plain funny, To each his own (even though I'm right).

However, there is plenty of room for more than one sports/comedy program, and there is certainly room for Norm McDonald to return to the television. That is why I was thrilled to find out (via @enosarris) that Mr. McDonald will soon be starring in just such a show on Comedy Central.

Evidently, the format is going to be very Weekend Update-y: live audience, Norm commenting on the sports news of the day. That's fantastic, since he was easily the best Weekend Update "anchor" in SNL's long run (though there are other ones I've enjoyed, of course). But most importantly, Norm McDonald will be doing stuff that people can see on a box in their homes, which has not been the case for a criminally long amount of time.

I have no doubt this show will be amazing. But my hope is it will be just as uncomfortably funny as Norm hosting the ESPYs back in 1998.

I cannot think of Thanksgiving without also thinking of the annual Turkey Day marathons that once came with them. In the early/mid 1990s, Comedy Central would turn over its broadcasting day to a non-stop showing of Mystery Science Theater 3000, my favoritest show ever.



If I recall correctly, it was a Turkey Day Marathon that turned me on to MST3K in the first place. I didn't even have cable, but an older cousin hipped me to its basic premise, and it certainly sounded like it was up my alley. One Thanksgiving at my grandparents' house, I just happened to flip on Comedy Central as they were airing the "Crash of the Moons" episode. It was love at first sight.

My grandfather, who did not cuss lightly, wondered "What the hell is this?" with genuine bewilderment. But he still indulged my obsession by allowing me to set up a timer recording on his VCR, so I could tape it every night at midnight and bring it home to watch.

"I don't get that show at all," Grampa would say, but he let me monopolize his TV (and cable box) anyway. He was a saint.



I am decidedly a Joel partisan; his shows had a goofiness and silliness that kept them from being too mean-spirited, and I think that was lost when he left. However, my favorite Turkey Day bumpers might be these from the Mike Era, which bring back many characters from over the years: Mr. B Natural, The Kitten with the Whip, and Pitch, among others. Plus, Mike reprises two classic roles: the preternaturally ebullient Jack Perkins, and crooner Michael Feinstein (much to the delight of Dr. Forrester).

I went to a fantastic wedding in the Catskills a few weekends ago. It was autumny and beautiful and full of wonderful music, as befitting a union between two musicians. The bride and groom each played with their respective bands during the reception, which was great. (The best man joked that it was the first wedding reception that should have had a merch table.)

On our way up to the mountains, we got off the NY State Thruway at a certain exit. This exit immediately seemed familiar, in a very profound way, as if it played an important role in my life. Within seconds, it dawned on me: This was the same exit for the town of Woodstock. (My first clue was the big green road sign that said <-- WOODSTOCK 12.)

Despite growing up not too far from this famous hamlet, I have been to Woodstock twice in my life. The first time was to see the Bad Brains play a tiny, tiny club as they embarked on a reunion tour; it turned out to be much better than when I saw them play Irving Plaza a few days later. The second time I went to Woodstock, I saw the best comedy show I ever saw.

This week marked the tenth anniversary of the birth of the one of the most unique pieces of entertainment since sliced bread (which was once considered very entertaining). I speak of The Best Show on WFMU, which made its debut on October 10, 2000. If you read this site, you know I'm a huge fan, and I've written about the show or alluded to it hundreds of times. But I felt I couldn't let this date pass without marking the occasion in some way, because it is literally one of my favorite things ever, for many different reasons.

It's hard to even describe what it is to someone who hasn't heard the show. The vital statistics are this: It's a three-hour extravaganza of "mirth, music, and mayhem" hosted by Tom Scharpling. Phone calls are taken, some from for-real listeners (usually on some sort of topic), some from the imaginary citizens of Newbridge, New Jersey, a town whose wealth of intertwined characters put the Marvel Universe to shame.

There's more to the show than this. Much, much more, but don't worry, we'll get there. But you should probably know, if you don't already, that it's the funniest thing going.

I came fairly late to the Best Show Bandwagon, which makes zero sense because I've been listening to WFMU since college. I probably listened to every show on the station but The Best Show--not on purpose, just out of happenstance. Not only that, but I was also a fan of many people and things in the realm of comedy who were either fans of the show or associated with it in some way (like Jon Benjamin and Jon Glaser, who used to be on the show quite often). I even took an improv class at the UCB Theatre, which has many Best Show fans amongst its faculty. Against all odds, I remained impossibly, blissfully ignorant of its existence.

Then, three years ago, I saw Patton Oswalt announce on his MySpace page (that's how long ago this was! MySpace still existed!) that he was going to be an in-studio guest on The Best Show. Since Patton is one of my favoritest comedians of all time, I gave it a listen. By the end of this episode, I had the same feeling I had when watching Kids in the Hall for the first time, or Mr. Show or MST3K. That wonderful, almost frightening sensation of "where has this been all my life?", something that seems to vibrate on the exact same wavelength as you.

It's Friday! Procrastinate and count down to happy hour with these lovely bits!

Do you love the Muppets? That's a trick question. Of course you do. After all, you're a human being with a sense of humor and a soul. Only an inhuman monster would not like the Muppets. I would not care to be in the same room or ever meet such a quote-unquote person.

Yesterday, the tweeting of Chunklet led me to this YouTube gem. It's a camera test for the first Muppet movie (aptly titled The Muppet Movie). I don't know who posted this, but I owe you a few beers. Words can not express how happy this video made me. In it, Kermit and Fozzie engage in an existential meta-conversation about what they are, exactly. Plus, Miss Piggy admits to a horrible, horrible crime.



There is another video from the same session, apparently, which is not quite as brilliant but still has some amazing dialogue in it. For instance, Fozzie wondering why the car he's riding in does not have a stove.



This next thing is not a video per se, but it's my damn site and I'll promote whatever the hell I want. The illustrious Paul F. Tompkins and Tom Scharpling appeared together on a special two-part edition of the podcast Comedy and Everything Else. It made for nearly four hours of non-stop hilarity. I particularly like Tom's reasoning for why he shouldn't have to sit through the Sarah McLachlan animal cruelty PSA's. Subscribe now and listen to it all. You won't be sorry.

I know, we all thought it seemed like a fun, cool idea at the time. But in retrospect, I think it was a mistake to build this city on rock and roll. Don't get me wrong, I think this city has the best rock and roll in the world, no doubt. But I think basing our entire town's existence on it has hindered some other important things a town really should concentrate on.

For instance, I don't think it's been good for local business to have operating hours of "whenever, dude!" The grocery stores carry little else but Cheetos, beer, and energy drinks. The art museum has nothing but Roger Dean paintings in it.

You'd think a town built on rock and roll would attract a lot of tourism, but that has not proven the case. The festival we planned to attract more out-of-town visitors, Knee Deep in the Hoopla Days, was poorly attended. Mainly because the advertising for said festival consisted of 50 xeroxed fliers stapled to telephone poles.

Then again, there's little reason for tourists to come here when city services are so bad. Public transportation is both uncomfortable and unreliable, as it consists of a fleet of 15-year-old Dodge vans. The sanitation commissioner has promised to start trash pickup "when I get a chance, man". Public health initiatives are limited to the establishment of a few "crash pads" downtown, and couch space schedules have proven difficult to maintain. The school system was not served well by the previous administration's "we don't need no education" initiative.

Not to mention the oldest part of town, our crumbling downtown district, which is literally built on rock and roll. Vinyl discs and album sleeves are not reliable building materials. And most of the records wouldn't even rate an F on the Goldmine scale these days. But the mayor won't tear it down because he doesn't want to  "ride wrecking balls into our guitars".

Worst of all, the local radio station plays nothing but guys' demo cassettes. Unbearable.

From: Human Resources (hr@technotek.com)

To: All_Staff (staff@technotek.com)

Re: Fridge Cleaning

 

Just a heads up that we've scheduled a fridge cleaning in the fourth floor kitchen this weekend. The cleaning staff will throw out any unmarked food, so if you want to keep something, please use the little yellow DO NOT DISCARD stickers we've posted in the kitchen.

 

If anyone has any questions about this at all, please let me know. Thanks!

 

* * *

 

From: Bill_Thompson (bthompson@technotek.com)

To: All_Staff (staff@technotek.com)

Re: Re: Fridge Cleaning

 

Hey Fred, does this mean they're gonna toss some of those science projects you got in there? They'll need a hazmat suit to touch that stuff! LOL

 

* * *

 

From: Angela_Williams (awilliams@technotek.com)

To: All_Staff (staff@technotek.com)

Re: Re: Re: Fridge Cleaning

 

Bill, if you want to send a jokey email to Fred on company time, that's your business. But don't hit "Reply All" when you do it and clog up everyone's Outlook inbox.

 

* * *

 

From: Bill_Thompson (bthompson@technotek.com)

To: All_Staff (staff@technotek.com)

Re: Re: Re: Re: Fridge Cleaning

 

Angela, I find it ironic you would send me a snotty email about pressing "Reply All" that is itself a "Reply All" message.

 

* * *

As I stated in my Onion AV Club interview, I'm extremely bitter and disillusioned about the state of comedy these days. Like the world in general, the comedy world rewards mediocrity and shuns innovation. It's as simple as that. Comedians pander to the audience in the most shameful ways, because today's audience expects to be pandered to. The audience wants what it wants when it wants it, and no one is daring enough to give the audience what it might need.

/smashes watermelon with oversized wooden mallet

But really, this has been in the cards for a long time. Parents don't discipline their kids anymore. People wear whatever they want to and behave how ever they feel like in public. Curse words aren't shocking anymore because everyone uses them. How can we expect any art form to grow in an environment like this?

/crushes container of cottage cheese with sledgehammer

I also blame the cellular nature of the 21st century. You want to listen to music? Put on your iPod and shut out the rest of the world. Want to watch a movie? Stream it online. We have no communal experiences anymore. So now, when I do a show, people in the audience react like they're sitting their living rooms, watching alone. They heckle and yell and hoot and holler, with absolutely no consideration for the people around them.

/whacks Snicker bars with a tennis racket

And the only things worse than the audiences are the comedians. No one has any sense of craft or timing anymore! But then again, how would they gain such knowledge? We have no vaudeville. We have no public support for the performing arts. A comedian--any artist, in fact--has to hit it big immediately or fail. People nowadays have neither the structure to support years-long apprenticeships, nor the patience to endure them even if they did exist.

/sues brother for copyright infringement

And the worst part is, I see no signs of this abating any time soon.

I weep for the death of the soul.

/rides enormous Big Wheel into trampoline couch

Beginning at 7pm tonight, WFMU is holding a 24 emergency pledge marathon. Normally, they hold only one pledge drive a year, but the station is in some dire financial straits.

Should you pledge out of the goodness of your heart and to keep the only radio station worth listening to in the tri-state area on the air? Of course. But if you need some extra motivation, know that The Best Show on WFMU is giving away a monstrously awesome HEROES DO WHAT HEROES DO FUN PACK! What do you get? WHAT DON'T YOU GET?!

• A special Best Show t-shirt designed by Michael Kupperman, genius behind Snake and Bacon, Tales Designed to Thrizzle, and many other comical works of gut-busting hilarity;
• A MP3 CD of Best Show rarities to satisfy lunatic completists like yours truly; AND
• A special CD of punk/rock rarities compiled by WFMU's own Terre T, who ALWAYS puts together an awesome compilation.

Tune in tonight starting at 7pm, and I'm sure you'll hear even more reasons to pledge. Special guests! Hilarity! HELICOPTER RIDES! And much much much much more!

Listen: I got no end of things I gotta spend dough on. I've got birthday parties, engagement parties, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, Bastille Day...I'M STILL PLEDGING, AND SO SHOULD YOU! CAPS LOCK!

And remember: SOME WILL BURN, ALL WILL PAY!

It's Friday! Procrastinate and countdown to happy hour with these lovely bits!

It's sad when NASA has to get promotional ideas from Mr. Show. Too bad they couldn't have gotten Toby Keith (the real life C.S. Lewis Jr.) to write a song for this interstellar, pyrotechnic event.

And yes, I'm positive I'm the eight millionth person today to post this video blast from the comedy past. But there's no excuse too flimsy or timeworn to enjoy some Mr. Show, I says.




Speaking of which, also enjoy this sketch from an unaired Bob Odenkirk pilot circa 2002 (Next!), featuring Odenkirk and Mr. Show alum Jay Johnston.

Hey guys, have you thought about watching the Jay Leno Show when it debuts next Monday? It's gonna be blast! Guests! Comedy! Things on the news!

Boy, I wish I was on TV right now! Did you see that Obama health speech yesterday? Crazy! Boy, I'd have a few zingers ready for Joe Wilson. Then I'd also have a few for Obama, just to even it out! I like to give it to both sides! I think that's why people like me! I'm fair!

But you should still tune in! We're gonna have so many surprises, you won't believe it! I just got an original user's manual from a 1969 Lotus Super 7 Series 3! And I'll read the whole thing, live on the air!

Watch as I play a hilarious prank on Chuck's Zachary Levi! He'll order a tuna wrap from the craft services truck, but we'll send him a turkey club and insist it's tuna! You'll crack up at as he exhibits mild frustration over the matter!

Did you know when I was in college, I was voted Most Likely To Continue to Exist? It's true!

Thrill as I realize one of my lifelong dreams: drop-kicking a pumpkin across the Grand Canyon! And they said it couldn't be done!

You guys like Twitter, right? If I did something with Twitter, would you tune in then?

We're doing stuff for the troops, too! As soon as the first show wraps, we'll burn it to DVD and send it to one lucky army base in Fallujah! That army base will then send it to another, and so on, until every man and woman in uniform gets to see it! Which should happen some time in 2017!

Adam Levine from Maroon 5 will stop by to restring his guitar--live!

I'm bringing back Iron Jay! But this time, it will be an actual iron statue of me! We'll travel to a working foundry in Youngstown, Ohio to watch it be forged!

Do you like that guy Mike Rowe from Dirty Jobs? Me too! If we had him on the show, would you tune in?

You'll love the spin-off of my Headlines segments: Mastheads! You won't believe some of the crazy names these editors have!

It's so cold outside the spotlight, so tune in! If you don't, I'll have to be on the road 290 days a year because I hate my family! Come home to NBC!

Hello, America! This is Jay Leno telling you to watch the new Jay Leno show, which premieres next Monday at 10pm! We're gonna have lots of exciting guests and so many surprises, you won't believe it! 

Remember that car I drove in the commercials for my new show, the racecar with 10 on the side? I'm gonna try and eat it live on the air! It could take me all week! Can the human stomach digest a carburetor? Guess you'll have to tune in to find out!

Join me for Jay's Wacky Pranks! I go down to the Hall of Records and try to legally change my name to Jey Leyneaux. It'll blow their minds! And yours!

Ever seen human chess? You've never seen it like this, played with the Supreme Court justices and the surviving members of the 1979 world champion Pittsburgh Pirates! Will Kent Tekulve be a pawn or a rook? We'll see!

Bring in a homemade casserole and I'll judge it on a scale of 1 to 10!

An old favorite will join us: Joan Embry from the San Diego Zoo! And I'll get up close and personal with a rhesus monkey! What does he do on my shirt? I can't say, but I'll give you a hint: it starts with "P" and ends with "urinate"!

Join me when I take a tour of the Rawlings Golf Center in Reseda, as they hand-assemble my custom golf cart! If you've ever wondered how cup holders are made, wonder no more!

Are you excited about the new hit animated movie Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs? So am I! That's while I'll be throwing hamburger meat from the roof of our studio! If you're lucky enough to be walking down the street at the time, you get to keep up to half of whatever lands on you!

Juggling! I'm gonna learn how to juggle! You guys like juggling, right?

World champion whistler Dave Morris will thrill us with his rendition of Wagner's entire Ring Cycle!

I'll do an entire monologue without using the letter 'e'! Does that sound interesting? What must I do to get your eyes on me?! I need your attention! I'll shrivel up and die outside of the spotlight!

The Jay Leno Show starring Jay Leno! Let's all be there!

The tweeting of bigplastichead alerted me to this awesome video. Someone took the immortal opening sequence to 2001: A Space Odyssey and substituted the soundtrack with a school band's attempts at Strauss. Result: hilarity.

I AM ZEB FROMULAX, APPLIANCE HYPNOTHERAPIST! BRING UNTO ME AN APPLIANCE IN NEED OF AID!
Mr. Fromulax, my toaster has been acting up lately. It burns everything, even when I have the dial turned all the way down.


LOOK INTO MY EYES, TOASTER! YOU ARE GETTING SLEEPY....SLEEPY....YOU ARE CALM! YOU ARE AT REST! YOU ARE GOOD TOASTER! YOU WILL FUNCTION WELL! YOU WILL NOT BURN BREAD-STUFFS UNLESS CALLED UPON TO DO SO! WHEN YOU AWAKE, YOU WILL SINGE FOOD ITEMS CONSISTENT WITH THE DESIRED TOAST SETTING!

NOW, BRING FORTH THE NEXT PATIENT!
Can you make my microwave cluck like a chicken?


SIR, I AM NOT A PARLOR TRICKSTER! I AM AN APPLIANCE HYPNOTHERAPIST! I ASSIST APPLIANCES AND THEIR OWNERS IN THEIR GREATEST HOUR OF NEED! THIS IS SERIOUS BUSINESS, SIR!
Then why are you talking like that?


IT IS THE HYPNOTHERAPIST'S CODE! YOU WOULD NOT UNDERSTAND SUCH THINGS! NOW BEGONE FROM MY SIGHT, SIR!

YES, MADAM? I SEE YOU HAVE A DVR!
Yeah, the In Demand won't load for some reason.


DVR, LOOK DEEP INTO MY EYES! YOU WANT TO FUNCTION! YOU WANT TO ALLOW YOUR OWNER TO WATCH LAST WEEK'S EPISODE OF "HOUSE"! YOU DO NOT WANT HER TO CALL UP THE CABLE COMPANY'S SUPPORT LINE, BECAUSE THEY'RE JUST GOING TO TELL HER TO REBOOT YOU, AND SHE'S DONE THAT LIKE FIVE TIMES ALREADY!

NOW YOU, SIR!
I got this toilet, the tank won't fill up. I used to be able to jiggle the handle, but...


A TOILET IS NOT AN APPLIANCE, SIR!
I guess not, but I figured since you were so good with the other stuff...


SIR, I AM HIGHLY TRAINED IN APPLIANCE HYPNOTHERAPY! THAT IS MY SPECIALTY! I CAN NOT DABBLE IN OTHER FORMS OF HYPNOTHERAPY, NO MORE THAN A CARDIOLOGIST COULD TRY HIS HAND AT BRAIN SURGERY! OR A FURNITURE HYPNOTHERAPIST COULD ATTEMPT LIGHTING FIXTURE HYPNOTHERAPY!
Could you just give it a shot? I lugged this thing all the way down here.


SIR, MY SECRETARY WILL GIVE YOU THE NAME AND NUMBER OF A QUALIFIED PLUMBING HYPNOTHERAPIST! I'M SURE HE CAN ASSIST YOU MORE ABLY THAN I!

A few weeks ago, The Wife, The Baby, and I visited a friend in Bushwick for a BBQ. About three minutes into this lovely summer event, The Baby made it known that she would not be satisfied with the selection of toys we'd brought with us. So The Wife went off to a local dollar store to get some crayons and a coloring book.

But she didn't just come back with a coloring book. Oh no. She came back with a goldmine of surrealistic art treasures. She came back with one of the straight-up weirdest things I have ever set eyes on. And it was a mere 99 cents, shoved between expired Tuna Helper and off-brand Malta.

Why was it so weird? The ultra-cheap production is a factor. "Cheap" is actually charitable for the care and attention that went into this publication. Needless to say, none of the art is very good. It was obviously cobbled together from various sources, with little regard for aesthetic unity or copyright issues. Many images have been blown up a thousand times, so the borders are way too thick and pixelated.

But that's not why this thing is so bizarre. Oh no, that doesn't even scratch the surface. If David Lynch, David Cronenberg, and Werner Herzog collaborated on a coloring book, it wouldn't look one-tenth as weird/disturbing as this thing.

Context is key. Keep in mind, this is meant to be a coloring book for children. That's what makes it so insane. At least I assume it's a coloring book. There is no text in this book except for what you see there on the cover. I'm not even sure what language this is. Italian? Romanian? Esperanto?

I hoped to investigate the origins of this weird, weird thing, but I can't figure out who published it because it has no ISBN. The only publishing info is a bar code and a note that says MADE IN CHINA (which means it's probably made of ground-up plastic pellets and lead paint). But it might as well say MADE ON NEPTUNE, because I can't imagine a human mind putting this thing together. I just can't!

Why? Oh, you'll see. Don't worry, you'll see.

A while back, I decided to work my way forward in the Best Show Archives, all the way from the first archived show from 2000. I started listening to the show two years ago, and wanted to ground myself in all of its weird, intricate mythology and folkways.

As I started to listen to these old shows, I thought, "Maybe I should keep a running log of what happens in each show. That way, if I wanna go back and listen to something again, I'll know where it is."

Then I thought to myself, "If I am interested in such a thing, surely others are." So I posted them quietly on this site and enlisted the aid of the detectives on the Friends of Tom forum to fill in some of the missing info (particularly, which comedic star filled the role of which on-air "guest"). The Friends of Tom were, as always, extremely helpful and encouraging of this obsessive behavior.

Then I thought to myself, "Well, this is fine, but it really could use some spiffing up." So I went back and added anchors so you could link to specific shows if you wanted, and also added some relevant links to various events mentioned during the course of the show.

So now I'm finally ready to reveal it to the public at large: The Best Show Logs, the product of one man's mania. Right now, there are logs for all of 2000 and 2001, plus the first three months or so of 2002. There's also links for them in the sidebar to your right. Comments, corrections, and questions always welcome.

At the rate I'm going, I'll be writing a full compendium and chipping these things into stone by the end of the year.

Readers of this site know that I'm a huge fan of The Best Show on WFMU. Last night, host Tom Scharpling welcomed famous comedienne Paul F. Tompkins into the the studio. Mr. Tompkins is a frequent guest, and he always brings The Funny when he makes the trip out to Jersey City.

But even judged against these high standards, last night's episode was more wonderful than one could possibly imagine. Paul and Tom took a piece of YouTube straw and spun it into Comedy Gold. Nay, Comedy Platinum!

The YouTubery in question: a promo for the 10th Annual Gathering of the Juggalos!



Tom and Paul went through this video piece by insane piece, examining just how moronic/white-trashy/lawsuit-inducing the whole affair is. Ninety seconds of commercial led to a good hour and a half of non-stop hilarity.

I encourage everyone to go listen to the archived show now (if you must skip ahead, The Gathering discussion begins at 1:27). You will not be sorry. Their dissection of the curious etymology of Violent J's Beach Boys BBQ Blowout Bash Blast is worth the price of admission alone. But there's oh so much more. Last night, I was pacing my kitchen and punching my fridge in a vain attempt to catch my breath. That's how hard I was laughing. (And my fridge has had it coming for MONTHS now.)

I won't go through the video, since Tom and Paul did it so brilliantly already. But here are some things that I was blissfully unaware of until last night:

• The Insane Clown Posse still exists.
• Not only does the Insane Clown Posse still exist, but they've built themselves into a white trash media empire. Kinda like Jimmy Buffett, but with more barbed wire wrasslin'.
• This Gathering thing has been going on for ten years. Nirvana didn't exist for ten years. Black Flag didn't exist for ten years. The Beatles didn't even exist for ten years. But this thing has.
• Rowdy Roddy Piper is apparently a comedian. Or at least he will appear at The Gathering's Fresh Ass Comedy Tent. My guess is his act involves taunting Hulk Hogan and buffing Gene Okerlund's bald head with a chamois. Or he just recites lines from They Live.
• Among its many attractions, The Gathering includes seminars. On what? No idea. Maybe an afternoon of affirmations and punching with Violent Joel Osteen? And are ICP signed up with WebEx? Because I'd love to catch a webcast of that seminar if I can't go in person.
• ICP describes itself as "the most hated band in America" with "the most understood fan base". I think The Grateful Dead might take issue with those statements.
  

Did that video whet your appetite? If so, check out this 14-minute infomercial on The Gathering of the Juggalos to check out some of the worst things Humanity has to offer. I just hope this video hasn't been beamed out into space. Because if an advanced alien race sees it, they will lay waste to this planet as soon as they can.

If nothing else, The Gathering of the Juggalos should help law enforcement officials. If they just rounded up everyone who showed up to it, both meth consumption and meth production would be cut in half overnight.

When I first meet Arturo Chien-Mbutu Smith, he is inspecting the pint glasses in the bar of Mlegantinho, the restaurant that catapulted him to fame as New York's hottest celebrity chef. He is weighing each vessel on a highly sensitive digital scale that can measure up to one-ten-thousandth of a pound. He does this twice for each glass: once while completely empty, once containing a single yellow feather, freshly plucked from a somewhat noisy and reluctant duck waiting in a cage nearby.

The reason? He suspects his supplier may have tried to pass off some sub-par glassware on him, and this method is the only way to find out. The glasses all look the same to the untrained eye, so I ask why he bothers with this elaborate ritual involving waterfowl.

"I never do things the easy way," he says, with a sly grin.

If Arturo's glass-inspection process doesn't make this obvious, then his career path certainly does. Rather than attend a prestigious cooking school, he was determined to become a famous chef by studying medieval literature at Bard. Did he learn any valuable techniques for preparation or presentation in, say, Le Chanson du Roland?

"No, absolutely not," Arturo says, in between feather plucks, "and that's the whole point."

Most aspiring chefs try to work their way up from menial kitchen positions, but not Arturo. Fresh out of school, he decided to start his own restaurant. Gathering investors from family friends, college buddies, and the Craigslist Random Encounters page, he accumulated enough capital to make his dream a reality. But it didn't take long for that dream to turn into a nightmare.

The restaurant, Chill!, opened to mixed reviews. Most of the criticism was leveled at its location on the Ross Ice Shelf. The expense involved in transporting food to the South Pole kept customers away, as did the fact that visiting Chill! required a snowmobile and at least $600 of snowgear. The bad press, combined with a lack of foot traffic and rampant cases of gangrene among the kitchen help, doomed Arturo's vision. 

But the closing of Chill only compounded his problems. There was the small matter of his creditors, who testified that Arturo never told them he planned on building an Antarctic restaurant. Frank Derwood, the Chase Bank official who approved the loan request, insisted Arturo's paperwork was for a barbershop in Weehawken.

Arturo also faced many lawsuits from ex-sous chefs who blamed him for their amputated, gangrenous limbs. Still, he refused to blame polar temperatures or frostbite for his failure.

"If anyone was in the wrong place, it was me," he says, with a sage nod of the head. "I was still running from myself, and I didn't even know it."

After several years of meditation and reflection in an undisclosed location without extradition treaties, Arturo knew what he had to do: open a new restaurant in New York dedicated to serving the unique cuisine of his Copranesian forefathers.

"You see, the Copranesians, we are passionate about our food," he says. "That's what sets us apart from all other ethnic groups. I can still see my dear mother, toiling away at the mswioq, grinding it with her precious fhiuta, just to make us three ounces of klazhnaka for dinner. I would bring that passion to New York or be injured trying."

Like all artists, Arturo had many obstacles to overcome. Copranesian food had never taken off in New York, or gotten a foothold of any kind, or ever been heard of, actually. There were also charges that Copranesia was not an actual country or culture.

"My people have had to struggle against this prejudice throughout history," Arturo says. "Just because something does not exist on a map, does that mean it does exist in the soul? Are certain people imaginary just because there is absolutely no evidence that they exist?"

Mlegantinho opened to almost universal rave reviews. It has become so popular that it no longer takes reservations. Instead, invitations are inserted into random copies of The New York Review of Books and The Atlantic Monthly.

He is not without his detractors, however. Some critics debate the validity of Copranesian cuisine, a stance that infuriates Arturo. "When they say such things, it is like they have raped the corpses of all of my ancestors. And if they say such things to my face, I will not hesitate to stab them with a cleaver right in their corpse-raping balls!"

Such threats haven't stopped critics like The New York Times' Frank Bruni from raising objections to Arturo's cooking. "My first time at Mlegantinho, I ordered something called sxivtlaka," Bruni wrote in his review, "and it tasted exactly like pork lo mein to me. It even came in an aluminum take-out tray. The waiter recommended a vintage 'Copranesian' wine, but I swear it was just Hi-C fruit punch with some vinegar thrown in."

Arturo's defenders counter that Frank Bruni is fat and smelly. Arturo himself has nothing to say to Bruni, but does share some wisdom from the old country. "There is a saying in Copranesian: Af ghaqtla perb secilas, frop jastla la xer-vaina."

I ask if Arturo can translate that into English.

"No, not a single word."

I am having a supremely crappy day. I won't go into details, because the details will not be compelling to anyone, I assure you. But this crappy day comes on the heels of several crappy days recently, so it feels a lot worse than an out-of-nowhere crappy day would. If that makes any sense.

But news like this alleviates the general crappiness just a little bit.



To be honest, I saw no more than 5 episodes of The State when it aired, because it was on MTV and I didn't have cable. (Well, I had limited cable access via grandparents who lived next door, but I saved most of that precious access for MST3K and 120 Minutes.) But I saw it enough times to know it was pretty awesome. Any show whose theme song samples Nation of Ulysses doesn't have to do much else to woo me.

It was always a show I wanted to explore further, because clearly it deserved exploring. Unfortunately, no one saw fit to make it explorable. The fact that it hadn't been released on DVD for all these years is criminal.

But I guess the perpetrators of this offense have been tried, convicted, and executed, because The State will finally get a proper DVD set of its own. That is fantastic news for fans of The Funny.

Now, if the Mets could remember how to catch balls and run the fuckin bases, I'd really be in business.

You know what was most unfuriating about Opening Night in baseball this year?

It wasn't the fact that Opening Night itself is an abomination in the eyes of the Lord, as I've stated before. And not the fact that it involved the Braves and the Phillies, thus forcing me to root for The Meteor.

And it wasn't the fact that I'd have to listen to an evening of idiocy with Joe Morgan; I just switched over to ESPN Deportes, where I can hear hilarious pronunciations of "Chase Utley" and "Jordan Schaefer". It was the fact that I knew I wouldn't see his performance completely dissected in an epic 10K-word takedown on Fire Joe Morgan.

Yes, I realized yesterday that this would be the first Opening Night in a few years without the benefit of FJM. How I miss it so. Can I talk to someone at The Office? Ken Tremendous needs to get back to Fremulon Insurance so he can make us all laugh about Hat Guy again.

All we have are the memories, I guess. IF you're feeling nostalgic for sarcasm, try this post, in which Jon Heyman's seething hatred of VORP is chewed up and spit out.

Not because of their ridiculous monopoly and exorbitant service fees. But because I just got an email from them with this subject line:

Save $5 on tickets to see Vicki Lawrence and Mama

Really, Ticketmaster? Really?

I just read Nathan Rabin's Year of Flops retrospective on Brain Candy, the 1996 Kids in the Hall film. Reading it brought back a whole slew of memories of a movie I used to quote on a nigh-daily basis. I actually saw the movie in the theatres, making me one of several dozen people to do so. It's not a perfect flick by any means, but I think Rabin draws an apt comparison between it and far-reaching Monty Python features like The Life of Brian.

Rabin's article also reminded me that there was a period in which I watched Kids in the Hall constantly. When I was in high school, CBS showed a late night hour-long block of KITH on Fridays (two episodes stitched together with extremely weird bumpers). CBS knew their audience: late Friday nights were perfect for the comedy dorks like yours truly who were right in the KITH wheelhouse, and unlikely to be doing anything else with their weekend.

I first heard about Kids in the Hall from a high school friend, back when the show first aired in the States on HBO. I didn't have cable, so he paid me back for years of reciting Monty Python by singing the "These Are the Daves I Know" and imitating The Head Crusher Guy.

The first time I got to actually see the show was during a trip across the border. My two younger brothers were on traveling soccer teams and playing in some weekend tournament in Montreal. One of my goals for this trip was to try and see Kids in the Hall, since I'd heard so much about it (I vaguely remember reading of its hilarity in several music magazines I read) and I realized this would be my only real chance to see it, unless my mom finally caved and got cable (which she wouldn't until I was away at college; cable was the last luxury to fall in our house, left over from the days when we was Dirt Poor).

Needless to say, it was love at first sight. It was a direct descendant of Monty Python, with all its non-sequiturs, envelope-pushing, and cross dressing. They did sketches that would be virtually impossible in America (for instance, suggesting that gay people actually exist while also not making them the butt of every joke), in accents I could understand. Plus, KITH was being made right then, not 30 years earlier, so I didn't need to ask my dad to explain jokes about Edward Heath and decimalization.

When KITH wound up on CBS, I taped it religiously and watched it after school pretty much every day. I remember it being The Hotness among dork circles in the early 90s. A college friend of mine told me he even dressed up as the Head Crusher guy for Halloween one year (complete with folding chair), despite the fact that not a single candy dispenser knew who he was. I laughed, but only because it was exactly the weird/obsessive kind of thing that I would have done.

So my question is, How come nobody talks about them anymore? Granted, it's hard to talk about something that doesn't exist. But you will still hear lotsa love extended to other 90s comedy pioneers like The Simpsons, Mr. Show, or even the ultimate Dork-Fest, Mystery Science Theatre 3000 (I say that as a fellow dork). But references to these shows are far more likely to elicit knowing chuckles than, say, The Chicken Lady, even among Dork Circles.

Somehow Kids in the Hall slipped under the cult radar, even for me. By all rights, I should own all of the shows, which trickled out on DVD a few years ago. And yet I don't. Shame on me!

As punishment, I shall watch this video of what might be my favorite sketch from the show. This bit is a lot funnier if you had a daddy who drank. Or is it sadder? I get those two confused a lot.

If you didn't get a chance to listen to The Best Show's second and final Pledge Marathon Night, first of all SHAME ON YOU. But hey, maybe your kid was sick or your dog was on fire or something. So if you didn't get to listen to it, Stereogum has an excellent play-by-play for you. And no one says you can't listen to the show from The Best Show Archives, or subscribe to The Best Show podcast, ya know.

For those of you who did listen, but would like visual evidence to accompany your fahntasies, Stereogum has plenty of pics from the event. Here's one of my faves: Tom Scharpling in his stellar Judge Smails outfit, with co-host Therese, John Hodgman looking strangely servile, Paul F Tompkins in a Napoleon pose, AP Mike appearing not nearly as creepy as I expected him to, and just in the background you can also see Aimee Mann, Ted Leo and Terre T in their FOT sailor hats.

A recent tweet from Ted Leo alerted me to the latest intertube craze: making fake album covers. Apparently, it goes like this: you get an artist name from a random Wikipedia page, an album title from a random quotation, and a cover image from Flickr's "explore last 7 days" page. It's about as stupid and addictive as it sounds.

I gave it a shot and came up with two decent LPs. This one's from my side project with PJ Harvey:

And this one's from my industrial/goth group:


Update: Ted just posted another example, far superior to mine. He's just as good at making fake albums as he is making real ones.

I've posted loving tributes to The Best Show on WFMU on this site, and referenced it many times, because it is awesome, and I like to talk about things that are awesome. But I also realize that not everyone has the stamina or the time to devote to a 3-hour show.

For those of you who fit into that sad category, please investigate Best Show Gems, a bi-weekly podcast of the show's funniest moments in bite-size chunks. It just launched yesterday with a worthy bit, wherein Tom gets a call from the owner of the insanely over-booked Club Pizzazz.

Subscribe via iTunes here. You shan't be disappointed.

I hate to post about another thing I discovered on the Friends of Tom forum...

Wait, no I don't. Because I've found some awesome things in its depths, like the Burt Reynolds and Friends Museum. My latest (third-hand) discovery (via Erik in Portland): Craigslisting, a site wherein one man jerks around the denizens of the eponymous online classified site.

I'm not big on Big Public Pranks anymore. I used to be very much into them, but now I don't like it when more-or-less innocent folks are subject to the jackassery of random strangers. I feel like pranks should be directed at people who deserve them, not, say, Best Buy employees who are just trying to do their jobs.

But the victims of the Craigslisting pranks go so willingly into the woodchipper that you can't help but think they deserve it. Like the guy who wants to trade an Outback gift certificate for a pack of smokes, and who actually seems to believe that Outback has their own brand of cigarettes.

I won't spoil any of the rest. Just read and enjoy.

Oh, you thought you could kill it, didn't you? YOU CAN'T KILL IT! HOW CAN KILL DEATH ITSELF!

Of course, "death itself" in this case refers to Holy Goddamn!, the official Scratchbomb.com podcast, which makes its triumphant return to the interweb airwaves TODAY!

In episode 001, I speak on my current preoccupation with Food Competitions, and interview the proprietor of Winger's, which will explain the presence of that horrid ad just above you. Plus, I spin some tunes (listed below for you completists), interspersed with some obscure sound clips that no one but me will remember or enjoy. Fun!

How can you get all this audio hotness? Well, you can play it in your web browser by clicking on the audio player below. If you want to subscribe to the podcast and you have iTunes, click here. Otherwise, you can click on the xml feed contained in the banner above your head or in the navigation bar just to your right. Or here, if you're really lazy.

Oh, and you're welcome.




Holy Goddamn 001 Selist:

Cupid Car Club, "Grape Juice Plus," Cupid Car Club M.P. 7"
Minor Threat, "Salad Days," Discograpy     buy
Elijah and the Ebonites, "Hot Grits," Eccentric Soul: The Capsoul Label (v/a)     buy
Jay Reatard, "All Over Again," Singles 06/07     buy
Future of the Left, "Manchasm," Last Night I Saved Her from Vampires     buy
The Zombies, "Care of Cell 44," Odessy & Oracle     buy
The Hold Steady, "Slapped Actress," Stay Positive     buy

Somewhere in the Dominican Republic:

/ding dong

Who is it?
Who is it?! World effin' champions, that's who!
Yeah, and we're here to tell you that the Giants are goin' DOWN on Sunday!
I don't think the Giants play again until April.
Pfft! You thought we were talking about San Francisco, you DUNCE?! No, we're talking about the NY Giants. Or should I say, the NY TINIES, because they're gonna feel two feet tall once they get stomped by the IGGLES!
How bout dem birds, baby? The firm leadership of Donovan McNabb! The explosive running game of Brian Westbrook! The competent blocking of L.J. Smith! They're gonna poop all over the Giants' heads like a red convertible fresh out of the car wash!
Allow me to imply that the following members of the Giants are gay: Eli Manning, Brandon Jacobs, Antonio Pierce, Phil Simms, Frank Gifford, Y.A. Tittle...

Alright, moving on with our Senate confirmations, what's the deal with this Roland Burris fella from Illinois?
That's a funny subject. Seems he was appointed by a disgraced governor, and no one ever told him that this was gonna be a huge issue. I don't know how he couldn't figure that out on his own. But anyway, we made sure the Illinois secretary of state didn't sign his certificate of appointment.
So we're rejecting his appointment?
No, see, we fixed the certificate so that you can't officially accept his appointment. So the problem's fixed from your end. We try to avoid conflict as much as possible.
Mm hm.
Later, in the Senate chamber:

Excuse me, I'd like to sign the roll book now, because I'm the junior senator from Illinois and...
Yeah, Burris, we're gonna need your office to put some old files, so I'm gonna need you to take your press conference on to the Capitol steps.
Yes, but I was told that I would be a senator by the man with the crazy Richie Rich hair...
Yeah, so if you could get on out of the Senate chamber as soon as possible, that'd be great.
/raps cubible wall with knuckles, walks away
Okay, so I'm go back to Illinois and burn Blogojevich's house down.

As a parent, I'm always on the lookout for something that may warp The Baby. Not so much to shield her from harm (apart from the obvious evils), but more to spot True Weirdness that may shape her in the future.

By True Weirdness, I don't mean someone/something that tries real hard to be weird. Some Williamsburg hipster in a handlebar mustache and a Billy Jean pleather jacket does not have True Weirdness. I'm talking about a creative expression so undiluted and genuine that the practitioner has no idea (s)he is being weird. Like some guy who lives in the middle of nowhere and who's never been to a gallery and has no artistic ambitions at all, yet feels compelled to make sculptures out of old mufflers and crankcases.

Sadly, most kiddie fare is devoid of True Weirdness, unless you consider the preternaturally wholesome world of Barney weird. (/thrusts hand up high) SpongeBob Square Pants can get completely insane at times (in a good way), and has plenty of jokes that go way over kids' heads. SpongeBob makes me laugh on a consistent basis, and I like that it provides steady work to Mr. Show alum Tom Kenny. Still, it's hard to call something as popular (and lucrative) as SpongeBob Truly Weird.

There's Yo Gabba Gabba, which is complete audio/visual crack for parents who grew up with Nintendo. And I have to applaud any kids' show that regularly features Rahzel, Biz Markie, and Mark Mothersbaugh. But it also tries very hard to be hip. It succeeds to be sure, but this self awareness keeps it from being Truly Weird.

I have only discovered one Truly Weird kids' show, and it is as strange as anything I've ever seen on television: The Marvelous Misadventures of Flapjack. It airs on Cartoon Network, and could totally be part of the Adult Swim lineup if it had more pottymouth. But unlike the Adult Swim shows, I don't get the sense that it's trying to be weird. Its simply dedicated to a bizarre mini-universe whose architect has no idea how weird his visions look to the rest of the world.

I don't care for the incessant chattering between the Phillies and Mets. It's unbecoming the behavior of champions. When my Atlanta squadron were winning 14 consecutive titles, rest assured you would not hear such tomfoolery or folderol coming from the mouth of a Brave. Heaven forfend the very thought!

I tend to think that such blathery is a Northern trait. I've read that, during the War of Northern Agression, Union soldiers shouted the most vulgar epithets at our brave Confederate fighters. I'll wager that most of the prisoners at Andersonville were incarcerated for the types of offenses against the English language that one can hear in any pool-hall or sea-port saloon above the Mason-Dixon.

But I also recognize that the Atlanta squadrons I've been privileged to play with have a little something called class. It would not befit a team called the Braves to be anything but classy, lest they offend the memory of those noble red-skinned savages who gave us our moniker. Yes, those godless heathens might have been felled by smallpox blankets, but no microbe or pus-filled bubules could ever defeat their brutish spirit!

Class is elusive in our philistine age. So allow me to enlighten the benighted masses as to how a person can carry one's self with class. Because if there's anything Chipper Jones knows, it is the art of the classy gesture.

First, one should respect a worthy adversary and its partisans. When another squadron plays the game in the correct manner, you are obligated to say, "Hale fellow, well met! Would that we could meet far from the field of proverbial battle!" A firm handshake would signify that there are no hard feelings, and assures your opponent that you are not concealing any brickbats behind your back.

Second, assure that you are surrounded by men of character good and true. Nothing saps the lifeblood of a sporting team more quickly than when that team calls upon the services of mercurial men, or layabouts, or men who attempt to gain an unfair advantage.

It should go without saying that a gentleman of class pays proper respect to the fairer sex. I would never cotton to a man who would dare treat a woman in a churlish or uncouth manner. I would not care to tread on the same playing field as such a man, and certainly not to be led by one, either. In fact, were I to run across such a so-called man, I would feel duty-bound to challenge him to a duel in a manner of our mutual choosing. I am partial to fisticuffsmanship in such cases, but am not averse to pistols at 20 paces if the situation merits such dire means.

Above all, make sure that your squadron-mates do not drink sasparilla! This demon drink has corrupted many a youth--beware its thorny tendrils!

I also find that class is much more easily attainable when one has had several "movements" a day--at the very least, five or six. Remember: an empty colon is a classy colon.

Before I conclude my remarks, I would be remiss if I didn't leave you with the words of one of the classiest men to put on a baseballing uniform, Jonathan Rocker.

Y'ALL CAN GO FUCK YERSELVES, YA BUNCHA HOMO MEXICANS!

Jay Mariotti is here, ready to light up AOL Fanhouse with his unique brand sarcastic humor and avoiding locker room confrontation. Where's my desk? Where's the cafeteria? Do you guys have a Good Humour vending machine?
Um, Jay, I'm afraid you misunderstood. When we offered you a job, it wasn't at AOL Fanhouse, it was at AOL Fun House!
AOL Fun House? What's that?
Why, it's only the most radical, awesomest house of all! And here's the guy who put the fun in AOL Fun House, J.D. Roth!

NBC's Football Night in America Wild Card Weekend Something or Other is proud to welcome former president of the Lions, Matt Millen. Thanks for being such a good sport and being with us, Matt. I have to say, though, I'm surprised your head is so big. I thought for sure it'd be canteloupe sized. Or at the very least, more of a pinhead shape.
No, no, I have a normal head.
Fascinating. So you are not legally required to wear some sort of helmet? Not even for insurance purposes? Because surely your skull is as soft as a newborn baby's. I imagine it as one big fontanel.
All the seams in my skull knitted together a long time ago.
How about a dunce cap, do you usually wear that? Or a propeller beanie? Maybe one of those floppy crowns like Jughead wore?
I don't care much for hats.

As chairman of the New York Douchebag Sportswriters' Guild, I, Mike Lupica, call this meeting to order. First item of business, all praise and worship be due to Gorlaqk the Dread.
Hail Gorlaqk!
Indeed, Murray Chass. Second item of business, it looks like Eric Mangini might have a job interview with the Cleveland Browns. Do we think this is the next best move for him? The floor recognizes Phil Mushnick.
No. Not only did he lead the Jets to a disastrous end, but he didn't heed a word of our invaluable advice!
Shall we cut him any slack because that advice varied wildly among all of us from minute to minute?
Surely you jest! There is only one honorable thing for Mangini to do: take his own life.
My mustache and I agree. To go on living would do nothing but bring shame upon his ancestors. It would also make it seem as if our pointed barbs did no damage to his fragile psyche--which surely cannot be true!
I concur, Bob Raissman. So we're agreed that Eric Mangini can only truly find peace in the icy grip of the grave. The question follows: What would be the best method?

All the little fledglings who left my nest, see how their wings have been clipped. First Romeo, then Eric. Charlie is surely not long for Notre Dame. It shan't be long before they come begging for refuge. And I shall refuse them. Not because I am cruel, but because they must learn for themselves the pain we must all endure in this vale of tears.

And also because I am cruel. Quite a bit, actually.

I shall, however, pass along these words of advice on what to do once the axe has dropped.

When you clean out your office, everything goes in the shredder. Playbooks. Game film. Third string tight ends. Shred it all to ribbons. Then shred the ribbons. Then burn the shredded ribbons. Then eat the ashes of the burned shredded ribbons. The next time you take a dump, you do it in a 12-foot-deep hole, which you then fill with cement. And before the cement hardens, throw some pit bulls in it. That will keep neighboring children away.

You now have a choice to make. In the wake of this incident, you can choose to be humble and take your lumps. You can choose to discover within yourself a kindness and charity you never thought possible.

These would be the wrong choices. What you must do is recognize this humiliation for what it truly is: a forge in which you shall rehsape your soul. You shall hone it to a sharp point, and you shall use that soul-blade to smite your enemies! 

This is also an excellent opportunity to update your Enemies List. I prefer to do this on a daily basis, but I realize that simple weekly checkups may suffice for most coaches.

Some head coach somewhere shall offer you a coordinator's job. He shall count on your desperation to ensure your fealty and a cheap price tag. Accept the position and the pittance it pays, but do not forfeit your allegiance. For no one deserves it but Gorlaqk.

Yes, Gorlaqk is responsible for my coaching prowess. You didn't believe it was due to intense study of game film and inspiring leadership in my players, did you? No, all my achievement flows from the fount of Gorlaqk, as deep and rich as blood from a freshly sliced throat.

All hail Gorlaqk the Dread! Tremble before his mighty talons! Lay before him your first-fruits, and he shall reward you with riches and success, and many, many hooded sweatshirts!

I hope pain don't hurt for you this holiday season.

STEINBRENNERUS: Have you gotten my first baseman, Seneca?

BRIAN CASHMAN: Um, it's Brian, but yes, we have signed Mark Teixeira.
STEINBRENNERUS: Bring him forth.

STEINBRENNERUS: Ah, but he's a strapping buck of a man! Can he perform?

MARK TEIXEIRA: Well, I'm pretty much guaranteed for 30 homers and 100 RBIs every year.
STEINBRENNERUS: Ah, this pleases the Steinbrenner! Yes, he shall provide me hours of amusement! Place him over there with the Sabathia and the Burnett.

GIRL 1: Ooh, Jen's texting us from her big date.

GIRL 2: He brought her roses!

GIRL 1: That's sweet! So anyway, my supervisor is such a bitch! She's always giving me a hard time about...oh, it's Jen again. 

GIRL 2: Did something happen?

GIRL 1: No, she just wanted me to know that he took her to Chez Francois.

GIRL 2: That sounds like a made-up name for a French restaurant.

GIRL 1: Totally. So anyway, my supervisor...oh, for fuck's sake, what now?!

GIRL 2: Just turn your phone off.

GIRL 1: You don't know this broad. She will totally call me to make sure I got all of her riveting text messages. And then she'll tell me the exact same things that are in her text messages. She's nuts.

Now that I've written a snotty and spiteful post about comedy, I feel it my duty to balance my Prose Karma and dedicate some energy to the righteous of the world.

As readers of this site know, I get Comedic Man-Crushes about bi-yearly. When they overcome me, I become a maniacal evangelist for my beloved's cause: burning CDs of their best stuff for friends, reciting lines to my endlessly patient wife, carving their names into telephone poles.

This goes all the way back to my childhood, when I used to recite Peanuts comic strips and Monty Python routines into a tape recorder. I still have no idea why I did this; something just compelled me, as if performing my favorite pieces would make me funny by osmosis. I went so far as to enlist one or both my brothers to play opposite me as the pet shop owner in the Dead Parrot Sketch, or flesh out the Mountie chorus for the Lumberjack Sketch.

If those tapes ever surface--well, it'll just confirm the dorkitude I profess on this site on a daily basis. However, I digress. Today I write of the latest heart on my Trapper Keeper cover: The Best Show on WFMU.

There are times when I feel profoundly disconnected from humanity. Like, I operate on a completely different wavelength than the rest of the world. These moments tend to occur whenever I turn on the TV. Or read anything online. Or leave the house.

I realize this is an extremely childish and narcissistic POV. Everyone feels different--Free to Be You and Me taught me that. Well, that and the inherent creepiness of baby puppets.

But how am I supposed to feel, gentle reader, when I'm told that the entire world is all a-twitter at the news that Jay Leno will host a 10pm talk show, and I think to myself, Wow, Jay Leno still exists?

I mean, seriously, people are excited about this? No one has ever been excited by anything Jay Leno has ever done. I challenge you to convince me otherwise.

I still don't understand how Jay Leno got to be Johnny Carson's successor. Who let that happen? Shouldn't that have been reviewed by the Council of Things That Make No Damn Sense?

Johnny Carson was witty and urbane, a gifted comedian and a master interviewer. No one has ever used any of those words to describe Jay Leno, except prefaced with the word "not".

People still talk about sketches Johnny Carson used to do on The Tonight Show. You see clips of his most famous celebrity interviews on TV all the time. Jon Stewart imitates him at least once a night. He remains the gold standard by which all late night fare is judged.

You think they'll sell "The Best of Jay Leno" DVDs some day? Nope, and you will never say this to your grandkids:

Back in my day, we all used to gather 'round the television and watch The Jay Leno Program. I still remember the time he found a midget version of himself! And the time Kevin Eubanks pretended to laugh at his monologue for the 8 millionth time! Oh, it was magic!

Here at Scratchbomb HQ, I get a lot of review copies of upcoming books. Oh my yes, I'm practically inundated with literature. But while I love to read, I rarely get a chance to speak with the authors behind these works. But that ends today! Because today begins a regular feature on the site, Authors Cornered!

My first interviewee is L.X. Magruder, best known as the creator of dozens of young adult novels. He's the man behind such beloved children classics as The Sleepover Pals and Wikipedia Jones. Next month, Slapdash Books releases the first volume in his first series for adults, a twisted universe of vampires and other monsters called The Darkening.

First off, I'm surprised you decided to write a series of vampire novels. It's quite a departure from your previous work.

I've always been a huge horror fan, so I didn't see it as such a reach. If you go back and reread at my books, you'll see many elements of the supernatural.

Even though your last five novels were in the Johnson High Cheerleader Squad series?

The supernatural elements are subtle, to be sure, but believe me, they're there. I mean, there's no way those really complicated pyramid moves could have been accomplished without the occult.

How did you come up with the idea for this new series?

Vampires are huge in publishing right now. Particularly, books where vampires fight humans and/or other types of monsters. While these works raise some intriguing issues, I don't think they explore them as deeply as they could. That's what I hope to do with The Darkening series.

What kind of issues?

Like, what would happen if a werewolf did it with a mummy? How would that work? I'm sure you've wondered about that before.

I can't say I have.

That's the role of the artist--to ask the questions no one dares contemplate.

Okay Brett, I've come down here to Hattiesburg to meet with you. I hope we can come to some sort of peace agreement and end this whole unpleasantness.
Unpleasantness? What're you talkin' about? Ain't no unpleasantness out here, Mr. Murphy. I just wanna get out there on the football field and have some fun.
Of course you do. But if you showed up at Packers camp right now, it would just be a huge distraction for everyone involved. We need to decide the future of our relationship and proceed from there.

'Relationship'? That's some pretty fancy talk. Brett Favre don't know from fancy talk. He's just a simple guy who wants to toss the pigskin around and have some fun. Just like in this here advertisementation.

You will warp your children. It's an inevitable byproduct of the parenting process, just like how you can't make a hot dog without two or three rat turds finding their way into the mix.

Some warping is a good thing, in the long run. A completely unwarped, innocent child would grow up to be one of those scary, infantile grown ups who's way too into Harry Potter. If you're lucky, you warp your child so that they have a healthy skepticism about The Ways of the World. If you're unlucky, they grow up to collect other people's skin. But in all likelihood, you won't know how you've warped your child for good.

I can trace my own warping--positive and negative--to a lot of things. But I know that parental TV viewing played a major part. Particularly, my dad's fondness for Monty Python. He never forced me to watch it, but it was on in the house often, back in the days when Python was a PBS staple.

I remember liking it a lot when I was way too young to know what I was watching. I had to ask my dad to translate certain Britishisms like pram and lorry and explain allusions to historic events I hadn't learned about yet. But I liked the really weird cartoons, and the fact that in any given episode you'd probably see some boobs (PBS was the best friend to a kid without cable in the 80s).

Was I destined to be a nerd anyway, and annoy the shit out of my friends by repeating sketches they'd never see? Yeah, probably. But the fact that I could recite "The Lumberjack Song" at age 7 definitely sped up the process. Was it my father's intention to bruise my fragile psyche with anagrams and cross dressing? I doubt it. Still, it happened.

CHRIS BERMAN: Welcome to ESPN's Spook-tacular NFL Playoffs Preview! Brought to you by Budweiser, Coors Light, Heineken, Levitra, and Budweiser! I'm your host, The Boomer, Chris "Oz Never Did Give Nothing To The" Berman. Because the NFL playoffs are so huge, ESPN is preempting its round-the-clock poker coverage to give football its due. First off, the NFC. How do you see the senior conference shaping up, Ron Jaworski "Huh! Good God, Y'all-ski! What Is It Good For-ski"?

RON JAWORSKI: It's been a disappointing, mediocre year in the NFC..

CHRIS BERMAN: Absolutely nothin'! Say it again-ski!

RON JAWORSKI: Last year's conference champs, the Seahawks, just barely staved off the 49ers to take the NFC West. And I'm pretty sure the 49ers' offensive line is actually made of popsicle sticks. No one in the NFCreally scares you. There are compelling reasons why each of the conference playoff teams couldn't go all the way.

MIKE DITKA: Except for the Bears.

RON JAWORSKI: Actually, the Bears have many glaring question marks, such as Rex Grossman's horrid passer rating, which can make babies cry from across a room.