This can't be real, can it? Apparently, it can, and it is. So many things come to mind when I watch this video. That giant-mustache-sporting guy continually looking back at Governor Palin, as if to say "is she seriously giving an interview in front of me while I'm draining the blood from these dead-ass turkeys?!" = HILARIOUS!
I'll spare you the rest of my "what the f's," my "oooooh no's," and my "I tol' you that bitch crazy's." Instead, I'll share with you some of the more entertaining comments left by members of the Digg and YouTube communities.
safehlkewqwsadkla: she's crazy - and we love her for it...
The5280Family: ...You will eat the turkey. You do not care how it got there... I'd love to see her gut a moose next while talking about national parks...
j72034: Note that she makes absolutely no sense when she is speaking, but you're so distracted by the Turkey carnage in the background you don't notice.
zizi333: Outtakes from Fargo is what immediately comes to mind... once the echo of her ramblings dies down... Watching the former VP candidate ramble on in front of Joe the turkey reaper... PRICELESS...
seltaeb4: Sarah Palin is truly a gift from God... for us Democrats. Note to Republicans: you're right, she's the greatest! She's the future of the Republican Party! Keep her front and center!!!
pepelu12: Jesus Christ, what the *****!
COINTELPROAgent: Newsflash for emo retards: this is what happens outside city limits.
thundacatblue: I'm sure heads will roll as a result of this...
lopla: TURKEYGATE
flickrdoodle: OKay, PETA... you win. I'm having tofu for Thanksgiving.
CarlosDJackal: What do people think, the Turkeys kill themselves for Thanksgiving?
MrsButtersworth: The dumb bitch in that video cracks me up.
Prophetxbb: Happy Thanksgiving!
Care to add a comment of your own?
11.17.2008
Partying makes you smarter
I believe that one's intelligence is measured not by the amount of knowledge one has acquired, but instead it is measured by the eagerness and openness with which they seek out new understanding.
(What did he say? Oh, wait, he's just talking out of his arse again. Ok.)
Someone in the know took me to Bert's Warehouse (wow does their website suck) on Saturday night. How did I not know about this place before?! Oh, wait, I know why, because I'm a big fat looser who lives across the street from Sam's Club in the 'burbs. Oops. My bad, dog.
When you put all of the following items together in one huge-ass warehouse, and keep them together for 7hrs, you get a near-coma-inducing good time; laser lights, smoke machines, REALLY big speakers, hot techno, hipsters, stoners, preppies, gangstas, guys in suits, moms in turtle-necks, cheap party girls, jagass guys who like cheap party girls, Blacks, Whites, Asians, Arabs, the Lollipop Gang, your uncle Louie, alcohol, and drugs you've never heard of.
An experience like that can be nothing but enlightening. So, yeah, getting drunk and dancing to deafening techno in a giant, smokey warehouse at 4am is actually the path to true understanding and infinite intelligence.
What makes you smarter??
(What did he say? Oh, wait, he's just talking out of his arse again. Ok.)
Someone in the know took me to Bert's Warehouse (wow does their website suck) on Saturday night. How did I not know about this place before?! Oh, wait, I know why, because I'm a big fat looser who lives across the street from Sam's Club in the 'burbs. Oops. My bad, dog.
When you put all of the following items together in one huge-ass warehouse, and keep them together for 7hrs, you get a near-coma-inducing good time; laser lights, smoke machines, REALLY big speakers, hot techno, hipsters, stoners, preppies, gangstas, guys in suits, moms in turtle-necks, cheap party girls, jagass guys who like cheap party girls, Blacks, Whites, Asians, Arabs, the Lollipop Gang, your uncle Louie, alcohol, and drugs you've never heard of.
An experience like that can be nothing but enlightening. So, yeah, getting drunk and dancing to deafening techno in a giant, smokey warehouse at 4am is actually the path to true understanding and infinite intelligence.
What makes you smarter??
11.13.2008
Reader participation - part 1 (you're all growns up)
It's Thursday. Actually, it's a rainy, gray, cold Thursday. Nothing of significance has happened yet today, and I do not expect that to change before the day ends. It's just... Thursday. The only thing that today has going for it, is that it's one day away from Friday. What does one "blog" about in such situations? I've browsed the news, and found nothing but the usual depressing crap, such as; suicide bombers, bailouts, going-extinct gorillas, and talk of Palin running in 2012 (please, god, NO). I even perused my scattered list of unfinished, unposted blogs, but could not find the energy to complete a one.
And then it occurred to me. I don't have to write anything. Instead, YOU can do it for me! A much better idea, yes indeed. Besides, who wants to hear what I have to say all the time, it is my ass that does most of the typing, anyway. So here's what we're going to do... each Thursday, every Thursday (at least, until I realize that no one cares, right after this Thursday), I'm going to present a question to you, and it will be up to you, to ponder and then of course share your answer in the comments section. I'll keep the questions loosely based on the theme on this blog: Always remaining in progress.
Are you in? Yes? Good. Be careful though, answering the types of questions that I'm going to be asking might actually cause you to think, reflect, and maybe even learn yourself sumthin about yourself. Please heed my warning and be very careful. Ok, here we go.
Today's topic: Mikey's all growns up.
And then it occurred to me. I don't have to write anything. Instead, YOU can do it for me! A much better idea, yes indeed. Besides, who wants to hear what I have to say all the time, it is my ass that does most of the typing, anyway. So here's what we're going to do... each Thursday, every Thursday (at least, until I realize that no one cares, right after this Thursday), I'm going to present a question to you, and it will be up to you, to ponder and then of course share your answer in the comments section. I'll keep the questions loosely based on the theme on this blog: Always remaining in progress.
Are you in? Yes? Good. Be careful though, answering the types of questions that I'm going to be asking might actually cause you to think, reflect, and maybe even learn yourself sumthin about yourself. Please heed my warning and be very careful. Ok, here we go.
Today's topic: Mikey's all growns up.
- When you were asked as a child, that damn annoying question, "And what do you want to be when you grow up?" How did you answer?
- When you were in school/college, how did your answer change?
- What is your answer to that question now?
- What are you actually doing now?
11.11.2008
The Jazz Cafe and Gay Jedi
"I find your lack of faith disturbing."
It's no secret that I was raised in the suburbs, and currently live and work within the sprawl that the local news stations affectionately refer to as Metro Detroit (which, really is just a nice way of saying Not Detroit). My suburbanism, which I will neither apologize for nor advertise, has been well documented on many occassions.
Recently, though, I have begun the process of trading in my green (pansy-ass, suburbanite) lightsaber for a red (fear inducing, city dwelling) lightsaber. In dire fear of misrepresenting myself as a gigantic Star Wars geek, I offer the following analogies:
The suburbs...
And, the city...
Shite. I wish I could do the force choke. I can think of so many practical applications for such a skill. But I digress, as usual.
I am a supporter of the city, and this wasn't always the case. So, what happened? I'll tell you. I left ignorance and apprehension at home, went out, and experienced the city. And no, I'm NOT talking about playing slots at the goddamn casinos, riding the merry-go-round at Comerica Park, or going to the freakin Auto Show. Any frat-boy wannabe from Novi, or baby-popping skank from Roseville can drive down I-94 or I-75 for one evening each year to do those things.
No, I'm talking about the speakeasy D'Mango's (now open on Saturdays, too!), local flavor at The Woodbridge Pub, beer and volleyball at Z's, theater, art and beer at The Zeitgeist Gallery, and pulled pork from Slow's in Corktown. I'm talking about the eclectic offerings of City Fest, the raw, nationally renowned energy exhibited at DEMF, local art at The Russell, and the in-your-face awesomeness that is Dally in the Alley. I'm talking about local eats from Eastern Market, free music and movies at Campus Martius, scenery on The Riverfont, and the hidden attractions on Bell Isle.
And now, I'm adding the The Jazz Cafe to the TOP of that list.
My very anti-suburban, often free-ticket-acquiring girlfriend and I went to the midnight performance on Saturday night at The Jazz Cafe. It. Kicked. Ass. I didn't know a THING about Jazz, but it didn't matter.
The Jazz Cafe is located under the Music Hall, and provides an atmosphere that, if you're not overly mindful of your surroundings, wreaks of big-brother-type cities like the NYC or Chicago. The shape of the room, style of the clientele, and overall vibe of the joint is just, well, smooth as hell. Oh, and they had BBQ chips. I LOVE BBQ chips.
When a guy gets on the mic and introduces a song like this, you know it's going to be a good show: "Yeah, so... I rented an apartment from a Korean guy in L.A., like years ago, man. It was a good apartment. The apartment came with a dog, though. He said I didn't have to take the dog, and that he would give it to a shelter or sumthin... But I told him, no man. I told him, I'll take the apartment, and I'll take the dog. So I took the dog, and he was a good dog... I'm tellin you, that dog, was a good dog. This song, is about that dog..." (I'm paraphrasing because I was just a bit toasty at the time, and can't remember the exactness of his introduction, but I think you get the premise. The guy was smooth, and the song followed suit.)
Soaking in the rhythm was a fascinating crowd that included couples, singles, and dudes just... you know, hangin out, man. It included pretentious jazz-aficionados marked by the token jazz hat and tucked-in scarf, and real jazz fans like the older black gentleman behind us, and the older white woman in front of us, both of whom were sitting alone and moving to the rhythm like they knew how and had been doing for years. And how can I forget the annoying, begging-to-be-punched-in-the-face kids sitting to our left? They had wanna-be-black-jazz-artists-but-instead-play-in-a-shitty-alt-band-in-mom's-basement written all over them. The crowd was as interesting as the performance itself.
I can still hear the music, and I can smell the air in that place. The Jazz Cafe is a must experience. The Jazz Cafe is good times in every sense of the phrase "good times." The Jazz Cafe is real. The Jazz Cafe is Detroit.
That was a good night. If you haven't been, you need to go. Now.
Update: For another, more well-written report on the Jazz Cafe, be sure to go here!
It's no secret that I was raised in the suburbs, and currently live and work within the sprawl that the local news stations affectionately refer to as Metro Detroit (which, really is just a nice way of saying Not Detroit). My suburbanism, which I will neither apologize for nor advertise, has been well documented on many occassions.
Recently, though, I have begun the process of trading in my green (pansy-ass, suburbanite) lightsaber for a red (fear inducing, city dwelling) lightsaber. In dire fear of misrepresenting myself as a gigantic Star Wars geek, I offer the following analogies:
The suburbs...
And, the city...
Shite. I wish I could do the force choke. I can think of so many practical applications for such a skill. But I digress, as usual.
I am a supporter of the city, and this wasn't always the case. So, what happened? I'll tell you. I left ignorance and apprehension at home, went out, and experienced the city. And no, I'm NOT talking about playing slots at the goddamn casinos, riding the merry-go-round at Comerica Park, or going to the freakin Auto Show. Any frat-boy wannabe from Novi, or baby-popping skank from Roseville can drive down I-94 or I-75 for one evening each year to do those things.
No, I'm talking about the speakeasy D'Mango's (now open on Saturdays, too!), local flavor at The Woodbridge Pub, beer and volleyball at Z's, theater, art and beer at The Zeitgeist Gallery, and pulled pork from Slow's in Corktown. I'm talking about the eclectic offerings of City Fest, the raw, nationally renowned energy exhibited at DEMF, local art at The Russell, and the in-your-face awesomeness that is Dally in the Alley. I'm talking about local eats from Eastern Market, free music and movies at Campus Martius, scenery on The Riverfont, and the hidden attractions on Bell Isle.
And now, I'm adding the The Jazz Cafe to the TOP of that list.
My very anti-suburban, often free-ticket-acquiring girlfriend and I went to the midnight performance on Saturday night at The Jazz Cafe. It. Kicked. Ass. I didn't know a THING about Jazz, but it didn't matter.
The Jazz Cafe is located under the Music Hall, and provides an atmosphere that, if you're not overly mindful of your surroundings, wreaks of big-brother-type cities like the NYC or Chicago. The shape of the room, style of the clientele, and overall vibe of the joint is just, well, smooth as hell. Oh, and they had BBQ chips. I LOVE BBQ chips.
When a guy gets on the mic and introduces a song like this, you know it's going to be a good show: "Yeah, so... I rented an apartment from a Korean guy in L.A., like years ago, man. It was a good apartment. The apartment came with a dog, though. He said I didn't have to take the dog, and that he would give it to a shelter or sumthin... But I told him, no man. I told him, I'll take the apartment, and I'll take the dog. So I took the dog, and he was a good dog... I'm tellin you, that dog, was a good dog. This song, is about that dog..." (I'm paraphrasing because I was just a bit toasty at the time, and can't remember the exactness of his introduction, but I think you get the premise. The guy was smooth, and the song followed suit.)
Soaking in the rhythm was a fascinating crowd that included couples, singles, and dudes just... you know, hangin out, man. It included pretentious jazz-aficionados marked by the token jazz hat and tucked-in scarf, and real jazz fans like the older black gentleman behind us, and the older white woman in front of us, both of whom were sitting alone and moving to the rhythm like they knew how and had been doing for years. And how can I forget the annoying, begging-to-be-punched-in-the-face kids sitting to our left? They had wanna-be-black-jazz-artists-but-instead-play-in-a-shitty-alt-band-in-mom's-basement written all over them. The crowd was as interesting as the performance itself.
I can still hear the music, and I can smell the air in that place. The Jazz Cafe is a must experience. The Jazz Cafe is good times in every sense of the phrase "good times." The Jazz Cafe is real. The Jazz Cafe is Detroit.
That was a good night. If you haven't been, you need to go. Now.
Update: For another, more well-written report on the Jazz Cafe, be sure to go here!
11.05.2008
ALREADY?!
The elections are over. And thank Jeebus because inProgress was growing weary of the political banter to which there never seems to be a right (or wrong) answer that we all can agree on. It's a good thing, too, because now we have something much more important to turn our attention to. Holiday greed!
It began, LITERALLY, at 12:01am on November first. One, single day after Halloween. I saw it, and heard it, with my own eyes. Want proof? Just click here. Be SURE to click the "Listen Live" link, for the full effect.
Soon, our country will be transformed into one, giant, tinsel-covered Bronner's store. Santa Clause will win the presidency in a landslide. The House will be filled with elves, and the Senate with talking reindeer. The Abominable Snowman will seek to enrich uranium, and Yukon Cornelius will invade the wrong country in search of gold.
Fa la la la la, la la freakin la.
It began, LITERALLY, at 12:01am on November first. One, single day after Halloween. I saw it, and heard it, with my own eyes. Want proof? Just click here. Be SURE to click the "Listen Live" link, for the full effect.
Soon, our country will be transformed into one, giant, tinsel-covered Bronner's store. Santa Clause will win the presidency in a landslide. The House will be filled with elves, and the Senate with talking reindeer. The Abominable Snowman will seek to enrich uranium, and Yukon Cornelius will invade the wrong country in search of gold.
Fa la la la la, la la freakin la.
+12 million votes
Yes, Cube, today was a good day.
For the first time in the history of me voting, the people and proposals that I voted for actually won. Holy crap. Bring on the pot-smoking embryos, and lets see if the rock star can deliver on his promises of change. And so, today was a good day because:
For the first time in the history of me voting, the people and proposals that I voted for actually won. Holy crap. Bring on the pot-smoking embryos, and lets see if the rock star can deliver on his promises of change. And so, today was a good day because:
- I no longer have to hear McCain refer to the American people as "my friends." OMFG did he overdo that shit. Did his speech writers run out of ideas?!
- The bleeding in my ears caused by Palin's voice will begin to subside.
- Half-black, all black, Chinese, Vulcan, whatever Obama is, I don't care. What I do care about is this: for the first time, a U.S. president will NOT be an old, white-haired, white dude.
- We will be given a short reprieve from the numerous and mostly FALSE attack ads that have plagued all facets of our main stream media for over a year now.
- Should Obama actually do a "good job", baby-boomers will be confronted with another reason to overcome the closet-racism that their parents taught them so well.
- The rest of the world (wait, you mean there are other countries on this planet?!), may hate us a little less now.
- Savior and bringer of positive change or not, at least our president-to-be can form complete sentences... with real words.
11.03.2008
DON'T VOTE
Yeah, that's right, I said it, and I'll say it again. DO NOT vote tomorrow. Stay home. Tear up your voter registration card. Don't even think about driving past your local voting station. Just treat tomorrow like any other day, and bypass your opportunity to be a part of the democratic process.
The truth is, if you're an average American, you're uninformed, impressionable, gullible, lazy, and scared to death of forming your own opinions about the political issues that affect your life and the country to which you owe your livelihood. You've likely never traveled outside of the Midwest (and NO, Canada does not count as travel, sorry), so you have no idea what the world is really like outside of your bubble. Your favorite pastime is watching reality television, you think camping in the Thumb is an "adventure," and you actually do refer to McDonald's as a "restaurant." Please, I'm begging you, stay out of the voting booth tomorrow!
For the 3 or 4 of your out there who actually do make an effort to gather information and then form an educated opinion, I present the following sources of information for your reading pleasure:
The truth is, if you're an average American, you're uninformed, impressionable, gullible, lazy, and scared to death of forming your own opinions about the political issues that affect your life and the country to which you owe your livelihood. You've likely never traveled outside of the Midwest (and NO, Canada does not count as travel, sorry), so you have no idea what the world is really like outside of your bubble. Your favorite pastime is watching reality television, you think camping in the Thumb is an "adventure," and you actually do refer to McDonald's as a "restaurant." Please, I'm begging you, stay out of the voting booth tomorrow!
For the 3 or 4 of your out there who actually do make an effort to gather information and then form an educated opinion, I present the following sources of information for your reading pleasure:
- Michigan.gov/vote
- Project Vote Smart
- Truth-o-meter (read the truth in each candidate's accusations of the other)
- PBS's unbiased feature on the presidential candidates
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