Cartoon by William Steig

The Best Theater Joke I Was Ever Told

Of this there can be no doubt. I have been keeping it close for about twenty-five years. It was told to me in confidence, a special gift from a transient mentor.

Now, please understand that the theater is full of transients and that nearly all of them are dim and pushy and annoying because of it. But there are a precious few who are so absolutely brilliant that being in their presence is to recall vividly all of the deeply sincere thoughts both innocent and honest that one had to forfeit in exchange for adulthood. At the same time, one is caused to feel a peculiar sense of shame for having ever been called upon to make the exchange in the first place. What if maybe I had cared more and worked harder? Is it that I am incapable of love?

Wait a minute. I seem to have drifted. Where was I? Ah, yes . . . the joke.

I pass it on to you now because I may very well die unexpectedly. It is as follows:

Techs are frustrated Designers.

Designers are frustrated Directors.

Directors are frustrated Producers.

Producers are frustrated Actors.

And Actors are frustrated people.

What? You didn’t think that was all that clever or funny? Well, maybe you had to be there.

Or not.

Oh, go to hell . . . and suck on this.

I Read the News Today, Oh Boy

Drawing by the great Lee Lorenz. See also Buddy Holly.

ACHTUNG!!! ACHTUNG!!! ACHTUNG!!!

It has been recently observed that the internet interjection “heeeee” is gaining currency.

This must end. Fully grown adults do not laugh by saying “heeeee.” The most that can be said for this sound is that it is the noise a tiny infant makes upon seeing a puppy. Copious amounts of spit and dribble accompany the flow of air used to produce this sound. It is a squeal. Grown-ups do not squeal. They laugh. A laugh is the sound of delight made by humans with a fully-functioning brain who do not crap themselves.

It has been suggested that “heeeee” is a variant form of “tee hee.” If this were so, then any ordinarily intelligent person would, in fact, actually say “tee hee.” It is easy to do. But do not, under any circumstances, ever actually say “tee hee.” It is not permitted.

There is an exception to this general rule. You are permitted to say “tee hee” if you are a girl character in a comic book produced during the 1950s, or perhaps the 1960s so long as you are destined to become a square. Examples would be Lucy, Violet or Sally; maybe Marcy, but never Peppermint Patty. Both Veronica and Betty said “tee hee” so read into that what you will.

Let it be known henceforth that acceptable forms of internet laughter or similar expressions of internet delight are to be substantially as follows: LOL, LMAO, ROFL, Heh, Hah, and Ha. Exclamation points are within the exercise of sound discretion and preference should be given to punctuation that is, in and of itself, comical as self-mocking. The cat-eating, furry space alien named Alf sucked ben-wah balls but at least he was good for something.

Ha!

WARNING: DO NOT READ THIS BLOG POST!!!

And do not click this music video. Do not watch. Do not listen. It is three minutes and thirteen seconds of cringing embarassment. Truly awful, it is nothing less than execrable.Plodding. Leaden. Lethargic. Lazy. It is the pop rock equivalent of Jacob Marley dragging yard after yard of heavy chain, cashboxes and ledgers, except nothing good will ever come of it, whatsoever.

This is the kind of musical performance that demonstrates in graphic detail exactly what too much cocaine did to you back in the early 1980s, even if you were young and in your prime. Kids, just say no.

And, truth be told, these guys didn't really get laid all that much. They were way too geeky and the slutty chicks were dumb but not so dumb that they didn't remember being in high school. What made the difference, of course, was lots and lots of cocaine. But these were the kind of guys who didn't share, the selfish bastards. Given the choice, they'd rather have the blow.

I will, however, say something in their defense. They were clean and they were well-groomed. At least that's something.

What NERDS!!1!!!!!

And you know what? Marshall Suck-My-Craw was so absolutely terrible, even his wikipedia entry is a pile of steaming crap.

And why the hell are you reading this, anyway? I told you not to, dammit. Now go away. That's right. Get the fuck out of here. NOW!!!

P.S. Marshall Crenshaw sings like a girl!1!!!!!1!!!!!!

B. Kliban Speaks

“There’s a lot of sham, pretense, greed, narrowness, and stupidity in the art business, probably as much as you’d find in medicine or insurance. A ‘legitimate’ painter who does something mildly amusing is suddenly a great humorist, like ‘serious’ novelists who cop an idea science fiction writers have been kicking around for years are suddenly startling visionaries.

“I consider myself a surrealist who happens to like the area of humor. If I didn’t, I’d probably do bizarre things that were deadly serious. I was a very serious painter. That was bullshit.

“Somehow, the idea of art and really funny stuff doesn’t fit. I’d love to see a fine painting by Titian or Leonardo that was really silly; a Venus with false nose and glasses and duck feet. Those esthetic assholes would be going crazy forever, wondering, is it art?

“Steinberg, the greatest cartoonist ever, had a big show at the Whitney Museum. Hilton Kramer, the art critic for the New York Times was wondering is it really art? And he’s one of these turkeys who will accept as art an Andy Warhol copy of a Brillo box that Andy Warhol never touched. And so what if he did, anyhow?

-- Jumping Up and Down on the Roof, Throwing Bags of Water on People, by Mark Jacobs, Doubleday & Co., Inc. (1980), pp. 57-58.

ADDED: For some strange reason, I recall this post at Althouse.

Bissage Achieves Greatness!!1!!!!!1!!!!!!!!!

I just did a Google search for "The Habanero Train Whistles."

Here's what I got: Results 1 - 2 of 2 for “The Habanero Train Whistles”. (0.18 seconds)

Both of those were returns to this post at Suddenly Bissage!!!

And to think my mother told me I was no good for anything but sex.

Oh, how wrong you can be!

Deeper Meanings # 11

You might think you have what it takes to draw a cartoon like this.

And you know what?

You are correct!!!

And yet you have never even so much as tried.

Now, why is that?

(Cartoon by the great Saul Steinberg.)

Words Fail, Buildings Tumble

I Guess You Had to Be There # 5

(1) Shakira Ricketts;
(2) 186 lbs.;
(3) The ostinato riff from “Go to the Mirror";
(4) Portuguese Flannel Spaniel;
(5) “Closet Receptacles R Us”;
(6) Paw-paw new guinea hen;
(7) Beat me, daddy, eight to the Burberry trench coat;
(8) Ground, down, town, clown, frown;
(9) Burping-tupperware-taxicab-plane-fare-brandy-lamb; and
(10) “The Habanero Train Whistles.”

Mrs. Bissage Has an Affair

My car is in the shop this morning. So I take Mrs. Bissage’s car to work.

And what do I find? Lipstick on her collar? A single, long blond hair?

No.

I find something much, much worse. There they were. All loaded in the CD player. Laughing at me. Bobby Sherman. Donny Osmond! David Cassidy!! Andy Gibb!!! Leif Garrett!!1!!!!!!!1!!!!!

I sit there in stunned silence. My world comes crashing down around me. Short of breath. Head spinning. Heart pounding. Palms sweating. What to do? WHAT TO DO???

And then . . . I know what to do.

Pedal to the metal, off I go, driving like a maniac to the nearest Tower Records. I am in and out in an instant, and off I drive to a secluded spot where I can be alone, by myself.

I put my newest purchase in the CD player. And I climb into the back seat.

Katy Perry kissed a girl . . . and she liked it.

And so did I, my dear internet friends. So did I.

And now . . . and now . . . Mrs. Bissage and I . . . are . . . even.

The Sincerest Form of Flattery

(Just not nearly as good!)

Cartoon by Bill Woodman

IM IN UR HATBOXWAITIN MAI TURNZ

It's a Mystery

Overnight, this blog's "link" and "visited link" colors seem to have changed themselves.

This defies reason.

I changed them back.

We'll see what happens.

I Photograph What I See

Teh Sexxxy Kitty Katz!!!

Do any of my fellow Althousians remember this old comment?

Yes, this is the cat.

And remember, folks, it's not incest is you're from different species!

All This Useless Talent

So here’s what happened. This morning I’m all jubilant over last night’s blog entry and I throw caution to the wind and I decide to keep the party rolling. I get in the car and I’m driving to work and I put “Chicago IX - Chicago's Greatest Hits” in the CD player.

LOUD!!!

And what do I discover, completely unbeknownst to me?

That’s right. You guessed it.

With absolutely no musical training whatsoever, I can do every trumpet part from “25 or 6 to 4” all the way to “Saturday in the Park.” And when I say “do” I mean do perfectly, with an over-the-top, strident, blaring vocal falsetto that resonates with the door panels and rattles the moon roof!

I am so impressed with myself that I crank it to 11 and roll down all the windows. People at red lights are looking in their rear view mirrors for an ambulance. Dogs are barking at me. Several parked cars had their burglar alarms go off by accident.

What a buzz! I am a horn section GOD!1!!!!!!!!

Even if I’m really supposed to be playing flugelhorn, it makes no difference.

I am a middle-aged, completely ordinary guy overwhelmed by indifference and the promise of an early bed.

And I ROCK!!1!!!!!!1!!!!!!

I Do Believe in You

And I know you believe in me.Oh, yeah!

Hey, come on now. I took that photo all by my little old self.

Is it really so very bad?

Well, no matter. Life is full of ups and downs. And if my tiny, little old life has taught me anything, it's taught me that there are few things better than feeling stronger every day!

Won't you join me?

COME ON!!11!!!1!!!!!

Ha!

Bissage Wrestles with Matters of Great Importance

Believe it or not, gentle blog reader, verily, as I type, some of my fellow Althousians have worked themselves into a froth and are insulting each other over matters collateral to duct tape and frostbite at the tail end of this comment thread. Such diversions are both highly amusing and highly satisfying, I should imagine.

Nevertheless, if you keep very still, and if you listen very carefully, you just might hear the soft voice of reason somewhere off in the vanishing distance.

Oh well. So it goes.

But enough of that!!! I have important work to do, seeing as how I am a very busy man.

Yes, my many astoundingly cultured internet friends, as in the olden days of yore, now is the time to take the music CDs from my car and put them back on the shelves WHERE THEY BELONG!!1!!!!1!!!!!!!

(1) The Who, “My Generation (Deluxe Edition)”;
(2) Elvis Costello, “The Best of Elvis Costello and the Attractions”;
(3) Eric Dolphy, “Out to Lunch!”;
(4) Elvis Costello, “Armed Forces”;
(5) Badfinger, “Straight Up”;
(6) Bill Evans, “Verve Jazz Masters 5”;
(7) Everclear, “The Vegas Years”;
(8) Julian Bream, “J.S. Bach: Chaconne, etc.”;
(9) The Strokes, “First Impressions of Earth”;
(10) The Smashing Pumpkins, “Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness”; and
(11) Green Day, “American Idiot”.

There you have it, folks, yet again!

And . . . finally . . . MY PENIS IS HUGE!1!!!!1!!!!!!!!!!!

Television Serials # 6

(1) In the Studio.

(2) On the Stage.

(3) We’ve been watching “The Prisoner” on AMC. Their website is obnoxious so I won’t link to it. WIN A SUBARU SWEEPSTAKES!!!1!!!!! And it posts spoilers which is dirty pool in my book.

But I can say this: Gandolf is evil. Jesus is kind of lame, which is to say ordinary. The doctor chick needs to have her eyebrows steam-pressed back to normal. Hayley Atwell plays Lucy/415 and she must be a great actress because she sure looks better-looking than she looks.

I’m reserving judgment on the show, itself, until I see the final two episodes which air tonight. But so far, so good. It’s not the original nor should it be. The underlying theme is what’s important and that’s fully intact, so good for them!

(4) Be seeing you.