Posted on April 13th, 2010 by Scraps.
Categories: Words, Musicians, Comedy, Old Posts.
Debbi converted to Zoroastrianism and distributes leaflets in Fresno bus shelters. Vicki has returned to her first love, waitressing. Michael is a lobster fisher in the Maritimes. Susanna was carried off by a twister.
Posted on April 12th, 2010 by Scraps.
Categories: Words, Badness, Comedy, Old Posts.
Looking for a man who "walks to a different drummer," "takes the road less traveled," and isn't afraid to say the emperor's naked, even when it isn't "politically correct." Are you my "free thinker"?
Posted on April 7th, 2010 by Scraps.
Categories: Words, Music Criticism, Literary Criticism, Comedy, Old Posts.
While my opinion runs counter to the critical consensus, it has nothing to do with unusual bravery and insight on my part, or cowardice and conventionality on the part of my colleagues. I'm just a bit odd.
Posted on April 5th, 2010 by Scraps.
Categories: Words, Comedy, Movies, Old Posts.
There are no bats in this movie.
No one sucks a potato through a straw.
Neither the best boy nor the gaffer ever worked with Trent Lott.
Astrology plays no meaningful role.
Queen Victoria expressed no known opinion regarding this film.
No vehicle of mass conveyance plunges over a cliff.
The credits were not signaled in morse code by Bill Robinson.
There is no mysterious pattern of hair loss among the cast members.
The screenwriter did not go on to a successful career in politics.
There are no scenes in courtrooms, mining pits, or abattoirs.
Nothing Pauline Kael has said is likely to change anyone's mind about this film.
If you cut this film into millimeter-wide strips and strung them all together, it would not reach the moon.
The plot does not turn on a deathbed confession about the oatmeal.
The film never made the American Legion's censorship list.
It is no more nutritious than most films. Probably less.
I don't remember whether mumblety-peg occurs, but it is of no great importance.
If the male lead were dropped on your foot, it would hurt.
It was not filmed in feel-o-rama.
You can't roller-skate in a buffalo herd.
Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is all in your head, as usual.
It is not NORMAN... IS THAT YOU?
Posted on March 24th, 2010 by Scraps.
Categories: Words, Comedy, Old Posts.
People describe me as odd, different, strange, a bit touched. That's their way of saying I'm a bizarroid. Sometimes they call me unusual or weird, in which case what they mean is I'm truly mental. When they want to say that I'm certifiable, instead they call me bugfuck, gonzo, waaaaay out there man. But when they describe me as deviant, atypical, outlandish, irregular, mutated, off-the-wall, kooky, loony, wacky, unorthodox, not all there, screwy, unconventional, offbeat, goony, unstable, wayward, and flaky, that's when I know that they think, deep down and after all is said and done, that I'm just a bit predictable.
Posted on March 13th, 2010 by Scraps.
Categories: Music, Words, Media, Comedy, Old Posts.
I am now the publisher of the Sonicnet front page every morning. So I figure I'm getting paid to not write my own headlines:
MTV IN PAYOLA SCANDAL
TOWER TO GIVE AWAY ALL MUSIC FOR FREE
ARISTA REPLACES CLIVE DAVIS WITH DRUNK STOAT
FRED DURST FLAYED
Posted on March 12th, 2010 by Scraps.
Categories: Words, Comedy, Old Posts.
Whenever I hear the word "fail" I reach for my revolver.
Posted on March 3rd, 2010 by Scraps.
Categories: Words, Comedy, Old Posts.
Also, and I don't know a gentler way of saying this, B.R. Myers is not the writer Mark Twain was. --rbr on the Well
A few gentler ways of saying Myers isn't the writer that Twain was:
1: Myers isn't the writer Twain was. (But then, who is?)
2: Myers, while a fine writer in many ways, is not the towering giant of literature that Twain was.
3: Twain -- and I don't want to overstate this, because after all Myers is young and history may judge him kindly -- was a great writer, of course, while Myers has yet to establish his possible greatness.
4: Without wishing to dismiss your comparison out of hand, or discount its relevance to the argument, I think it's worth pointing out that Twain is a great writer, and Myers is, perhaps, slightly less than great.
5: I appreciate your point regarding Mark Twain; thank you for bringing it to the table. It certainly can be said that Mark Twain's famous attack on Cooper is similar in some ways to the BR Myers piece. We would be remiss not to acknowledge that. However, I think that it is also worth noting that Mark Twain is a great writer, and that his stylistic and rhetorical skills may have much to do with the success of his Cooper piece; while Myers, though able and worthy, lacks some of Twain's vigor, concision, and insight.
6: Myers isn't the writer Twain was, IMHO.
Posted on March 2nd, 2010 by Scraps.
Categories: Words, Comedy, Old Posts.
(My entry in a "literary commercial" contest.)
When I was one-and-twenty
I heard a wise man say
'Think well upon your future:
Your life will end someday.
Stash pearls away and rubies,
Embrace security.'
But I was one-and-twenty,
No use to talk to me.
When I was one-and-twenty
I heard him say again,
'A State Farm Family Policy
Was never bought in vain;
'Tis paid in small installments,
And buys you easy sleep
Till you are one-and-ninety
And buried six feet deep.'
Posted on February 15th, 2010 by Scraps.
Categories: Words, Comedy, Untruths, Old Posts.
Brad Jones was actually born Brad Bowie, but changed his name to avoid confusion with Brad Buoy, the inventor of the liferaft.
Brad Jones is feared in seven languages.
Brad Jones is responsible for all ska band names. He is still looking for bands willing to shoulder the names "Ska of the Antarctic," "The Skashank Redemption," and "F. Ska Fitzgerald."
A careless whisper of "Brad Jones" in the wrong alley could lead to the death of innocents.
Brad Jones will be down from 5 to 6AM for routine maintenance, following which it will no longer be permissible to disturb his routine.
If Brad Jones had been born a girl, his parents were going to name him Cleopatra.
Brad Jones plays without a cup. His opponents think it just makes him scarier.
If Brad Jones were granted three wishes, he'd wish for three more, but only three, because hey, be reasonable.
Remember that to Brad Jones and his people, a smile is an expression of hostility. If you wish to express your affection for Brad Jones, rub the top of his head.
If Brad Jones could only tell stories, the stories he could tell.
Brad Jones shot the sixth, seventh, and eighth Beatles.
Brad Jones is my brother, yet he's heavy.
In time, everything will be true of Brad Jones.
Posted on February 14th, 2010 by Scraps.
Categories: Words, Comedy, Untruths, Old Posts.
There are more Brazilians in Brussells than there are in Sao Paulo.
There are forty-seven words for "Abba" in Swedish.
Shouting "Bronco Nagurski!" while leaping from the shower to bed in a single bound is responsible for 90% of accidents in the home.
Left-handed people are disproportionately represented in Benetton ads.
Posted on February 14th, 2010 by Scraps.
Categories: Lists, Words, Comedy, Untruths, Old Posts.
I taught Madonna to eat, sleep, drink, breathe, ride trains, open envelopes, file taxes late without penalty, drop heavy objects from tall buildings, execute perfect triple axels, throw darts accurately with either hand, compensate for the distorting effects of rear-view mirrors, cheat, fly (with or without wings), sprint backwards, extract revenge with no chance of prosecution but with full knowledge of the victim, open child-proof packages effortlessly, play accordion while retaining her friends, tighten belts, loosen sockets, chew gum in a beguiling working-class manner, groan convincingly, belch like a lady, construct origami pets of every genus, pop corn in her mouth, lead oppressed south americans to freedom, defend a field hockey goal mouth, swim, dropkick, shimmy in a corset, tap the zeitgeist in her dreams, and die in her sleep.
In return, she taught me to relax. Ahhhhhhhh.
Posted on February 9th, 2010 by Scraps.
Categories: Words, Comedy.
A: Knock knock.
B: Who's there?
A: Interrupting Magritte.
B: Interrupting Ma--
A: This is not a joke.
Posted on February 6th, 2010 by Scraps.
Categories: Comedy, Old Posts.
[i'm going to post lots of old stuff, because i'm still learning to be me again.]
Hey, I've never introduced myself. I'm Scraps, but my true name is Lancelot St. Goodfellow, and I work for the New York Department of Public Spectacle as a cheese grater. In my spare time I throw pillows and conjugate verbs. Someday I hope to build a rope bridge to the future and walk across it on my elbows. I like fuzzy fruit and bald hamsters, and I hate people who are deaf or otherwise unable to pay attention to me. The sick ground chuck drops other the lazy fog. Selah!
Posted on November 1st, 2009 by Scraps.
Categories: Words, Comedy, Recovery.
(The last three weeks have been a steep curve of learning; I want to write down some of it.) This homework assignment is to describe a children's drawing, a simple drawing of a birthday party. And my therapist, Alexandra, told me to make a little story also (because she seems to have got the idea that I am promising).
"It's a birthday party. The boy with the big grin in the center is probably the celebrator.* The boys to either side have (presumably) presents for him. The cake in front of the celebrator has nine candles, which either means he's nine years old, or his parents screwed up. There are plates in front of his friends, but none in front of the birthday boy. Maybe he's supposed to give a slice to each of them, and than eat the rest of it by himself.
"But it doesn't matter; the missing plate is far from the birthday boy's thoughts. (Let's call him Ralph.) He is grinning -- do you notice that the other two are not? -- not in laughter; he is grinning because the plan he has cultivated, the plan he has spent the last year, well, planning, is coming to fruition. For his right hand is reaching, grasping for the big knife; and he is going to kill the two, or at least maim them.
"And yet. The right one of the boys -- let's call him Ralph, too -- is concentrating on Ralph the Killer's (or Maimer's) face. And do you know? his hands, both of them, are under the table. Maybe he is reaching for a knife too; it could be, because we can't see under the table. Maybe he's reaching for a gun! Maybe he's reaching for a knife and a gun! One thing that is for sure: we can't know until we move a minute past . . . the birthday party."
*(Originally I used the word "celebrant", but I looked it up, and the definition was "the priest officiating at the Eucharist," so no.)
Posted on October 21st, 2009 by Scraps.
Categories: Music, Words, Comedy, Oracles.
Yesterday a got a fortune cookie that said, "Come back later. I am sleeping. (Yes, fortune cookies need their sleep, too.)"
I love the first part. The second, parenthetical part, not so much. It's trying too hard, over-selling the joke.
But it's trying. It's fortune cookies like that that keep me reading them; one out of thirty, seems like these days.
Posted on September 25th, 2009 by Scraps.
Categories: Words, Comedy.
I am a three-days-a-week student of Speech at Methodist Hospital. This morning I walked for the first time past the office of the doctor in charge. On the door was a button:
and in smaller letters:
I don't think it's meant to be funny. It's funny either way.
Posted on July 18th, 2009 by Scraps.
Categories: Words, Comedy.
I make countless typos; even when I'm most careful now, I still make about one out of three, before correcting it. Today when emailing a friend to find another friend's email, I typoed it "elami". Somehow that struck me as funny.
Posted on July 15th, 2009 by Scraps.
Categories: Words, Comedy.
from Brady Lea:
"OUCH! What the fuck are you doing?" Instructions: Grab the book nearest you. Tiptoe around until you are hiding off to the side of a doorway. Wait for someone to pass. Hurl book at them. Record what they said here, and post these instructions.
Posted on July 22nd, 2008 by Scraps.
Categories: Words, Comedy.
I want to make a short film in which we're given a lingering shot of a gun on a mantelpiece, and later in the film a steroid-raged psycho tears the mantelpiece out of the wall and clonks someone with it.