Autograph hunting in the 21st century

Possibly construed by some as cyber-stalking, but I don’t care. For anyone who knows who Michael Arrington is, you gotta admit this is pretty neat. (click to enlarge)

Separated at birth?

Über chef Mario Batali, and owner of Springfield’s best and only comic book store… erm… Comic Book Store Guy. Seriously – throw the brother some orange Crocs and they’re the same person!

On a completely unrelated note, remember these guys? Ah, sweet reminiscence.

Now you see it (them). Now you don’t!

So Fozzie is back from the vet now, recuperating from an operation on Friday to help him lose a little weight. Make that two little weights.

Before:

After:

Wincing? Legs crossed? You’re welcome.

Just like when I had Bentley done, he was high as a kite when I picked him up after the operation. A stoned Labrador is as funny as any other animal I suppose, only it’s harder to tell if they have the munchies ‘cos they’re always hungry.

I was lamenting to the vet that although I understand the health and behavioural benefits of neutering, there’s something pretty cool about seeing a big hairy pair of clackers dangling there while he’s walking in front of me. I declined his offer to install some Neuticles, but I was sorely tempted. In the end I decided that if Bentley had to go without then they both could, but it was a close call. Whoever invented those things should be working for NASA!

PS. Fozzie turns one year-old of June 6th. Sarah and I decided to make him a present yesterday – partly because we were bored (stuck inside on a cold and shitty Auckland Sunday), partly because the crate he sleeps in stinks and has gots ta go! If you can keep a secret, click here to view his present. Pretty cool huh?

The day the Internet stood still

Trey Parker and Matt Stone have produced some outlandish stuff over the years, and many have decried South Park as nothing more inane drivel and toilet humour. What the critics can’t seem to grasp is that beneath the bleeding Madonnas, Paris Hilton whore-offs and chicken f&^%ers is some pretty astute socio-political commentary and brilliant satire.

The creators of South Park seem to take great delight in pointing out the elephant in the room, which as Jon Stewart said is something the news media should be doing a lot more of but which sadly seems to be the responsibility of comedians these days.

Anyhoo, I came across this clip this morning (full episode here) and it really struck a chord with me. Think about it – how different would your life be if you woke up in the morning and the Interweb wasn’t working?

*shudder*

*UPDATE*

Ok, so Viacom managed to get the clip pulled less than 6 hours after it was posted, and right now there aren’t any other versions at YouTube. Of course, that doesn’t mean you can’t watch it – it just means you have to search further afield and provide ad revenue to a Ukranian pirate instead of the content owner. Oh well.

View the entire episode here

Doggie Style

Short and sweet today. I have more pics of Bentley and Fozzie, taken last week.

Click here to view

Go on. You know you want to.

You guys are vultures!

That’s not a bad thing – I actually quite like it.

For the past week or so, nearly 20% of all visitors to this blog have viewed the Dead Pool page. Now, I know you’re all probably gutted that nobody* anticipated Chuck Heston’s check-in to Hotel Dirt, but staring at all those sad blocks of black text with no skulls beside them isn’t going to change things. All you can do is try and come up with a better list for next year (Murphy’s Law says that if you do, at least three of your picks will be killed in a horrible gasoline fight accident on New Year’s eve, but don’t let that put you off), or if you’re really that keen to score some points rule 10 is still in effect.

Now – go do something useful**, will you please?

* Update: My bad! Hayden C now takes the lead from Tim the Crim with a healthy 16 points. Nice work.

**Heh. Don’t tase me bro! Love it.

Wocka Wocka Wocka!

Meet Fozzie. Fozzie’s parents are moving back to Canada (eh?) and so Bentley now has a little brother – a chocolate Labrador Retriever, born 6th June ‘07.

I’d forgotten what hard work puppies are! Having Fozzie around has reminded me what a fantastic dog Bentley is, and how important it is to train them while they’re young.

As you can see he’s pretty overweight, and he’s also well overdue for some basic training. But he’s already best buds with Bentley so I figure we might let him stick around for a while. Will look forward to introducing him to you all soon.

ps. His nuts are coming off next friday, so please send any useful recipes, handy craft ideas etc to the usual address. I already have a kangaroo scrotum purse, and if barbequed dog testicles taste half as bad as goat I won’t even consider it – so you’ll have to dig deep to really impress me.

pps. I’m baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!

Required Reading: Craigslist ‘Best Ofs’

I can’t believe I’ve never come across this before. Craigslist members simply nominate their favourite posts and they appear in the ‘best of’ section. I need no other news sources as long as I live.

Springer would love this site. I mean – check out this chick…

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Mustang Wheels

——————————————————————————–
Date: 2008-02-29, 8:07AM CST

Mustang 4 lug FR500 & Ponys for sale – $1 (Tomball)

——————————————————————————–
Reply to: sale-590608257@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-02-28, 10:08PM CST

I have a set of FR500 for a fox body mustang and I’m not sure what they go for? So I guess I’ll take $200.00

I also have what I was told are ponys $100.00

I need this stuff out of my bedroom, I kicked out my boyfriend after he got me and my mom drunk and had sex with us both. And now both of us are pregnant! We know who the babys daddy is.

make this stuff go… or if you are looking for a girlfriend I may give them to you if we hook up.

Pam

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Mustang wheels, you say? Are you sure the lad in question didn’t drive a Bentley? A Rolls Royce? Ok, what about a Prius? Surely he’d need something big and powerful like a Range Rover or Porsche Cayenne to tow your house around?

Goodbye to an old friend

About a month ago, while visiting Sarah’s parents, the girls decided to make Afghans and so I was sent to the garage to fetch some walnuts. I don’t like them myself and tend to pick them off if they’re not buried too deep in the icing. But then other people seem to like them and who am I to play Nut Police?

I digress…

So down I go to the garage. Raise the door, turn right, reach into the sack – and I’m immediately four years old again, standing in Peter Burt’s garage with a walnut in each hand, struggling in vain to pry one open. When he was done laughing (sometimes it took a while) Peter would take them off me, hold them both in one hand and *crack* – palm opens to reveal shattered walnut. I didn’t much care for the walnuts themselves. What mattered to me most was that Peter Burt was my friend, and he could do anything! One day I’d grow up big and strong like him and open walnuts with one hand too.

Me and Dave, aged around 1 years. I’m the cute one on the right. What are we doing? Trying to figure out how to get over the fence to visit our mate Peter Burt.

In addition to the walnut trick, Peter taught me a lot of neat stuff over the years. On some occasions his motives could possibly have been less than altruistic – such as when I learned how to paint a fence, push a wheelbarrow and mow lawns – but I wouldn’t have known or cared.

Peter would do things purely for the joy it brought to other people. One day he called right out of the blue to say that he needed some labourers, and so Dave and I were immediately dispatched. It turned out that his project for the day was to build a trolley for us to race down the street. The ‘labours’ he required were for us to sit on the thing and make sure he got the dimensions right.

When I was fourteen I asked Peter if I might rummage around in his wood-pile for some scraps to build a skateboard ramp. He told me to draw up some plans and come back that afternoon. When I arrived he was unloading a trailer full of brand-new timber and plywood, and we got to work right away. Teenage years can be troublesome at times (and that year had been a bitch, to tell the truth), but that summer spent on the ramp with my friends – sun shining and music blaring – still rates for me as one of the best times of my life.

When I heard of Peter’s passing my first reaction was disbelief. Not denial, the usual first stage of grief – but disbelief. I’d seen Peter in December at my Grandmother’s funeral and he looked so good – strong as a ox and happy as Larry. Surely there had to have been some kind of mistake? Sadly not. He was always so vibrant and full of life that it was easy to forget that he’d had his health issues over the years, and he’d had seventy three of them. He hadn’t aged a day the whole time I knew him – but it’s hard to detect old age and infirmity behind eyes that literally sparkle, and a voice that begins and ends every sentence with a peal of laughter.

He’s only been gone for a few days, and those of us who were lucky enough to know Peter already miss him like crazy. But spare a thought perhaps for those who were not so fortunate – the hungry masses scrambling for hammers, multi-grips and nutcrackers as we speak, their walnuts unopened. They will never know the joy of having a friend so completely decent, caring and charitable. I do, and will be forever grateful.