A) Oops… Hey, Last.fm… Seen the news lately?
B) I wonder what Michael Jackson’s play count looked like before he bought the farm (but not the ranch)? I’d be willing to bet it was nowhere near 29 million.
C) Does Last.fm knows something we don’t? Is the King of Pop planning something along the lines of his former Father-in-Law, The King?
When I first went to Japan in March 2002, I was passed on a street in Shinjuku by what I thought was some lowered, blacked-out 
Yakuzamobile. I was pretty blown away by the box-like styling, seemingly putting a foot in the ass of the aerodynamic turds on the road at the time. A few days later I saw another Toyota bB (this one was not so bosozoku looking) parked along Kappabashi and snapped this photo.
What goes around comes around, and after returning to the states and telling everyone about this strange Japanese car, I read that it would soon be available in the US. And as we later found, in the rather dumbed-down form of the Scion xB. Alas,the honeymoon was over, as they say.
During my second visit to Japan in November 2004, I spotted another oddball Japanese creation that set my heart aflutter yet again: The Nissan Cube. Standing before Ginza’s Wako department store one day, a Cube drove by and made the corner, just the angle for me to catch sight of the asymmetric rear window, wrapping around one side of the car like a middle finger in the wind of conventional design.
Just like the first time around, I spotted another one a few days later in Asakusa. this time, Sharon snapped a photo of me with the car, in a pose I learned many years earlier from my friend, Rodrigo Peréz Nebel: Standing next to the car as if I were unlocking the door and preparing to drive away. A photo of two starry-eyed lovers, enjoying the sheer novelty of first touch.
Time-warp forward to 2009, and we see how history repeats itself. Nissan has released the Cube in the US, but radically redesigned. My former lover is not the same—She has given way to fake tits and Botox injection. I do not recognize her. Only the rear window remains untouched, but in concept alone. Her formerly angular lines have been rounded. Me no like.
A client brought in his new Cube this week, wishing to have his advertising graphics applied. I explained to him that I first saw the Cube in Japan in ’04, and in his best all-knowing manner (after all, he did just pay good green money for this car, so he oughtta know, right?), he looked me in the eye and said:
“No, this one is new. You’re thinking of the Scion.”
I politely explained to him that Nissan was producing the Cube in Japan as far back as 1998. He looked confused, as if the local Nissan dealer hadn’t divulged the whole history to him. Or maybe he was shocked that the design was not of good old ’merican bloodlines. At any rate, when we were back inside later, I dropped the photo of myself and my former love on him. His response (like seeing his new bride happily posing with an old boyfriend): “Oh.”
I haven’t figured out if God-Biscuit is swooping down to save the people of India or if he just likes a good curry. Anyone?
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I was watching Tina Fey’s spot-on Sarah Palin impression from last night’s Saturday Night Live when it occured to me, “Is everyone else as curious about the scar on Tina Fey’s face as I am?” So I simply entered her name as a Google search and let the query suggestion feature answer the question for me. Beyond the scar issue, there was one thing that really stuck out—66,800 searches for tina fey wikipedia. Why not just, um, go to wikipedia and search tina fey there? Are people really that lazy? This also makes me think that Tina Fey’s Scar would be a good band name. |
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Today, my neighbor informed me that her lawn sprinkler sprays water in a square pattern, so it is the best for getting into corners. Then there’s Dan Haggerty’s Smiling Jesus painting, which is just absolutely… Well, I’m just short the words to descibe it. What the sprinkler thing has to do with Smilin’ Jesus, I don’t know, but they’re two things I learned about today that I thought were worth sharing with you. |
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I guess you’re all wondering where I’ve been lately and why I haven’t been posting. Yeah, all of you. All of my loyal readership. Uh huh.
Let’s just say I’ve been busy with important matters of US security—Such as a recent summit I participated in with Iran’s Iron Sheik. He damn near had me defecting to the other side with his promises of heavenly virgins and all that crap if I would help him take out Hulk Hogan. in the end I had to decline ‘cos I like women to be a bit more experienced.
Sorry, Sheik. But you’re still #1 All-American in my book.
Yeah, so I haven’t posted since February, big deal.
Recently, I’ve been making sporadic missions to Sixth Street after nearly ten years out of circulation. Last night I took my camera and captured what I believe to be a typical drunken night on Austin’s “Boulevard of Sin,” or whatever colorful description you might like.
Just before 2am when the bars kick everyone out, the streets look like this:
A few of the more faint-of-heart types (or those who are just plain smarter than the average drunk) try to head out before the circus comes to town…
Then there are the hungry drunks who stand around and gaze at the culinary delights that line Sixth Street… Fajitas, sausage wraps…
Pizza of several different varieties…
Dudes try their damndest to secure the evening’s lodgings…
Some apparently succeeding…
Others succeed at simply standing (with help)…
And then the hoards of drunken filth are pushed out of the saloons and told in no uncertain terms to GO THE FUCK HOME!
And Johnny Law swoops in on horseback to make their quota for the evening.
Meanwhile, the quest for drunk grub continues…
And soon, children, the streets of Austin, Texas are coated with a thick slurry of vomit and cigarette butts…
Not to fear, though… This guy show up about this time every night to hose the hole mess down the sewers. I caught him starting off his night’s work in the parking garage at 5th and Red River. Good job!
Santa Claus made it to our house rather early this year at 11:52pm. I was still awake, so I grabbed my camera and got this shot of him just as he was laying his finger aside his nose and giving the proverbial nod, etc.
He didn’t think it was funny when I told him he looked like a black Rip Taylor, so he pegged me in the eye with a lump of coal. Asshole.
Years after the fact and the Goatse stuff just keeps popping up all over the place.
If I weren’t married to my hardshell case and the wonderful feeling I get every time I remove my iPod from it and see it in its unscratched brand-spankin’ new-esque glory, I would have to have the iGoatse. It’s even available in black, so you can listen to the Misfits (aka the Misgoats) and feel all gushy and warm inside… Starting from the bottom, of course.
What we really need to see at Wal-Mart this holiday season is the TubGirl® Brand Chocolate Fountain! Ohhh, make your Holiday Party special.
I’ve been getting slammed from all over the world with searches for “guy castrating himself video” (and all variations possible) and “elastrator video.” Perhaps you should all stop living vicariously through the misadventures of a handful of lost souls true adventurers and start the nut cuttin’ yourselves?
Anyone who is worth their salt in punk rock history knows The Misfits. Last night I was trudging around online, trying to figure out exactly where I lost the enthusiasm I once had for punk—reminiscing about how innocent, nihilistic and yet idealistic it all really was and how I wish it could still be that way—when I happened upon the Misfits Wikipedia entry. I realized that their history has got to be one of the most colorful in terms of outrageous makeovers, reinventions and regroupings of any band ever… That Jerry Only is a real master of marketing it seems.
Then it occurred to me that there is a bigger merger possibility here that is hinted at in a Misfits t-shirt for sale at their website…
Am I the first to notice the similarity to our favorite gut-wrenching homoerotic Internet meme? I searched around for a bit and decided I would be the first to carry this vision to fruition…
And so, unveiled here for the first time, I bring you… THE MISGOATS!
Now here’s something completely different… A web ad for a hotel chain that’ll induce your man to hang himself. That’s right, kids… Dudes check in but they don’t check out. You’ll awake in the morning to a fresh start in life; No more dominating and/or cheating, lying husband to stand in the way of your dreams, ladies! Welcome to Hang’Em High Hotels, Suites and Funeral Parlors!
Spot the typo! Freudian slip or diss on YouTube? Can someone say proofreader?
Following up on my recent crack pipe-themed rant, I see we have another esteemed guest!
Dude is from Fairport, New York. He’s on the hunt for someplace where he can score Used Crack Pipes.
Now, I thought purchasing used drug paraphernalia would be like second-hand dildos—who’d wanna buy that?! Apparently it takes all kinds…
Then again, I doubt crackheads are super choosy.
One of the many reasons people blog is for attention. Don’t lie. Maybe you have a lot to say, or you think your recipe for Orange and Lemon Marmalade is the best out there or you think black helicopters have flown up your ass, but the real deal is that you want attention. So in the interest of tracking how much attention I’m getting (or not getting, as the case may be), I was taking a look at my miserable stats, and this catches my eye:
Let me make sure I understand this.
Homeboy couldn’t simply Google “crack pipe.” It was even beyond him to do a Google Image Search for “crack pipe.” No, instead he’s relying on the wonder of the Internet to do the work for him, so he does a Google search for HOW+TO+DRAW+A++CRACK+PIPE, which led him to this previous Hello Sluggo posting.
Perhaps he couldn’t be bothered to look no further than the end of his arm?
Here, I figger that since you were nice enough to come to my little corner of the Web and have a little look around, I’ll return the favor by drawing your crack pipe for you.
There. I hope you get an A.
UPDATE: Cracknet madness continues with a Hello Sluggo “hit” from a slowhead in Indianapolis, Indiana searching for “hitting+a+crack+pipe.” Whatever happened to good ol’ red-blooded American male search terms like bukkake and Goatse?
