Awkward Semaphore Conversations: Day Off

So you're taking the day off because you have a stomach virus?

Something to get you in the Halloween spirit

[Via Videogum]

A completely original song that I wrote all of the lyrics to

From my upcoming pop-soul album, Completely Original Songs That I Wrote All of the Lyrics To:

"Walking In Memphis"

Put on my blue suede shoes
And I boarded the plane
Touched down in the land of the Delta Blues
In the middle of the pouring rain
Marc Cohn – won't you look down over me
Yeah I got a first class ticket
Cause I wanted to relive your song

I was walking in Memphis
I was thinkin' about how that was such a really great song
I was walking in Memphis
Man I'd really like to meet Marc Cohn

I saw the ghost of Elvis
On Union Avenue
I followed him up to the gates of Graceland
Just like you did, too
Now security they did not see him
It was exactly how you described
I went down to the Jungle Room
To see that girl you were talking about
But there was just one weird-lookin' guy

Well, I was walking in Memphis
It was like I was you, but of course I was still only me
Walking in Memphis
But do I really feel the way you felt?

Unfortunately they'd run out of catfish
And there wasn't any gospel I could hear
Reverend Green couldn't see me
Cause he was out of town that weekend
But I still had a prayer in Memphis

Now Muriel actually still plays piano
Every Friday night at the Hollywood
And I went down to see her
And I asked her if she would
Do a little number
And sing with all her might
And she said
"I don't play that goddamn song anymore"
And I said, "Ma'am I aaaam tonight ... oh, wait ... I'm so sorry ... here, just a small tip for your troubles ... again, so sorry"

Then I went walking in Memphis
I needed to cool down a little bit after that
Walking in Memphis
I wonder if these people know where Marc Cohn lives

Walking in Memphis
Wait, you're telling me he doesn't actually live here?
Walking in Memphis
Well, shit-shit shit-shit shit-shit shit-shit shit

Put on my blue suede shoes
And I boarded the plane
Touched down in the land where I work at Staples
In the middle of the pouring rain

Yes/No/Maybe: Finally!

Declaration of Dependence by Kings of Convenience. Riot on an Empty Street, Kings of Convenience's previous album, came out so long ago that I was actually still an undergraduate at the time. I am five hundred years old now, and the sounds on that album remind me of a far gone place and time. So it's kind of strange to hear, on Declaration of Dependence, what could amount to Riot on an Empty Street, Vol. 2.

That's not to say there's no difference. Riot had a bit more energy. There's nothing like "I'd Rather Dance with You" on this album, which is a shame. Also, while there are some typically catchy and emotionally insightful songs on Declaration ("Mrs. Cold," "Boat Behind"), there isn't anything as outright gorgeous as "Homesick."

In that sense, this album is somewhat disappointing. For now. Inevitably, I will listen to this album a lot, and I'm sure the looming comparisons will stop looming so much, and I'll be able to hear this album on its own, in its own time.

Klipsch IMAGE S4 earbuds. I had almost given up on earbuds entirely and was about to switch over to clunky-but-effective headphones when I read about these and decided to give earbuds ONE MORE CHANCE. Thankfully, my $80 gamble seems to have paid off. These earbuds sound great, block subway noise, and, crucially, don't fall out of my ear. Finally!

The Yes Men Fix the World. The Yes Men are two guys who are political pranksters. They've pulled off some doozies, including one where one of the guys went on international BBC television as a Dow Chemical spokesman and claimed that Dow Chemical was officially accepting responsibility for the industrial disaster at Bhopal, India and announced a cleanup initiative. Dow Chemical's stock lost billions in value. Dow retracted the Yes Man's statement and has not committed to any cleanup efforts.

Sadly, that seems to be the outcome of most of the pranks documented here. The Yes Men pull a prank exposing what they see as some great injustice, get revealed as pranksters who are trying to bring awareness to an issue, and then ... well, not much in the way of concrete results. They are honest about that fact, too, so this movie kind of becomes a self-examination regarding their philosophy and tactics. But only kind of. They usually end up interviewing someone who thinks that what they're doing is great, and that's the last word.

Ultimately, then, this documentary seems like one long boast, hidden inside a weak critique of capitalism. I have admiration for a lot of what these guys are trying to do, and certainly for the size of their balls, but this movie ended up feeling like a ninety-minute commercial for the Yes Men.

Storming Storm King

Last Friday, Meredith and I went to Storm King, a sculpture park north of NYC. Check out the photographic evidence here.

I appreciate your enthusiasm, Barnes & Noble travel guide section

but your follow-through is less impressive.

Help us find the cure for Boopsky

Dear Seth,

As you know, cancer and HIV/AIDS affect millions of lives every year. But thanks to the efforts of researchers and the generosity of people all over the world, these diseases are becoming more treatable and preventable every year.

In the meantime, however, less-publicized conditions are ignored. Research languishes as much-needed money goes toward the "big name" diseases, leaving thousands of people with little hope and few choices. Among these people are the many who have Boopsky.

Though not yet as widespread as cancer or HIV/AIDS, Boopsky is a rapidly infectious disease that causes people to roodle-toodle all the day. Within seconds of infection, Boopsky rums the gums, and slips up the brainstem, turning right-thinking minds into prattlers, tattlers, and timmy-tum-tellers.

Boopsky is a virulent form of ambulocirculatory rizzlepizzle. Ropscop the table and pip down for grandma, Boopsky is here, and she is a mean thing. Researchers have been flummoxed, grummoxed, and pop-kneed by the Boopsky Lady, particularly as it refuses, simply confuses, to stay still for their microscoping maneuvers.

Though whimsical and fun on the run and at home, Boopsky is a debilimatating disease. Its victims have been known to collapse on the spot, their minds overtaken by ol' Boopsky's rot, and they suddenly imagine themselves on a yacht, sailing their brains out to sea. "Jiminy Cricket!" they cry as the rickets of mental infection begin. In minutes they've lost it, and when we all cost it, it comes to a billion-point-three.

In dollars, annually.

In Cockers, Spanuelly.

Won't you help us? You've still got the right-mind, I can tell. I can see you through these colors. Don't try to hide behind chartreuse! She's not on your side!

She's on both of our sides, don't you see? Boopsky, dear old Boopsky-Doodle, can run her fingernails along ANYONE'S spine. Five out of every one Americans will be affected by Boopsky this year, and next year, and the following year, and the year following after that, and all the years until they simply run out and fall off the edge of the universe into God's mouth. Let us grab Boopsky's tail while we can still see it slithering on the floor, and up the back of our legs.

As Benjamin Boopsky, founder of the National Boopsky Foundation and the Boopsky Institutsky, has often said, "It isn't a Woopsky and it isn't a Zoopsky, so what can it be but a Boopsky?"

Please. Help us.

Sincinattily,

Rupert the Rup-Pup

Yes/No/Maybe: How scary life can be

Where the Wild Things Are. I saw this at midnight last Thursday, so I've had a few days to ponder, and I still don't quite know what I think of it. It is a very strange movie, and definitely not the adventure story that the trailer implied it would be. But a more honest trailer for this movie wouldn't have been nearly as exciting, because how do you get people psyched to see a slow-paced, thinly plotted fantasy that is ultimately about how scary life can be?

I am making it sound terrible, but it's not terrible. It's gorgeous, which is the one thing people can seem to agree on about this movie. It's painful in its recollections of the bewilderment of childhood, and in its depiction of the eternal childhood the wild things seem to be living in on their island. It's funny. It's true to the book in that it's not plotted like a Children's Story, and this is actually one of the strongest choices that Dave Eggers, the screenwriter, and Spike Jonze, the director, made. There is no false comfort in this story. There are no Bad Guys to conquer. There are no easy explanations.

It is basically a beautiful, frightening, fun dream. Is it a kid's movie? Some kids will get bored with it, probably. But for others, I think, it will be memorable and affecting in a way that they haven't experienced before.

Actually, that was true for me, too.

Dear Zachary. Instead of writing a critique, I'll just say this: watching this documentary was an intensely emotional experience. If you have Netflix, you can watch it online.

Man on the Moon by Kid Cudi. I like "Day and Night" and "Up, Up and Away," but overall this album sounds like Lupe Fiasco without as many good beats.

From CIA University's alumni magazine

A rather unnerving menu

I'm over at Yankee Pot Roast again today. I seem to find the combination of food and absolute terror inspiring.

A thought

I had this thought,
and maybe it's a little weird,
but I was thinking
that if you lay flat on your back,
and I lay on my stomach
so that the crowns of our heads touched,
then I could push myself up
and over the top of your head,
and we could align our nostrils directly on top of each other,
so we could smell
the inside of each other's noses.

Just a thought.

Letter to the Bobcat Boosters

Bobcat Boosters,

As you know, we are deep into another stellar season of Bobcat Football! The Bobcats have an excellent shot at yet another championship year. We are still the leaders in our division, and Coach Banks is very proud of this year's roster, especially QB1 Darryl Lazenbee.

But last weekend's loss to the Central High Rams (2-4) was a wake-up call. As Coach Banks will tell you, if we want to ensure the Bobcats' status as division champs, we cannot afford to lose another game this season, and certainly not to a team as weak as the Rams. To achieve this, we must make certain that the Spirit of the Great Bobcat is pleased. In the wake of our loss, the Great Bobcat is deeply upset. The Protectors report that, deep in his secret mountainside cave, the Great Bobcat now gnashes his fiery teeth, spits blood, and roars and screams through the night, demanding satisfaction.

So, just as we ask the players to give "115 percent," we must now ask the same of you. To repeat, we CANNOT lose any more games this season. How much are you willing to contribute to make sure your son doesn't lose? How much are you willing to sacrifice, just as your son has?

We hope, for all our sakes, that you will be generous. And, remember, with great generosity comes great reward.

Review these new Booster Levels and choose wisely:

• Bobcat Slave: The lowest level of loyalty demands only a small physical sacrifice (e.g. fingertip, small toe) from one of the parents. In return, you and your family will be spared the Great Bobcat's vengeance.


• Bobcat Servant: The next level of loyalty requires a small physical sacrifice from both parents, as well as the giving of a precious family artifact (e.g. Grandma's brooch) to the white-hot flames that form the earthly substance of the Great Bobcat. The artifact cannot ever be retrieved. In return, your son will be granted strength and speed beyond his normal abilities for one game, and you will also receive the benefits of the Bobcat Slave level.
  


• Bobcat Trusted Servant: This level of loyalty necessitates either the gifting of a child's foot/hand OR allowing the Great Bobcat into the marriage bed whenever he pleases (Important Note: the Great Bobcat is a greedy, unkind lover). In return, your son will be assured first-string status, and he will be blessed with uncanny predictive abilities on the field. You will also receive the benefits of the previous levels, as well as a Bobcat hoodie or blanket.
  


• Friend of the Bobcat: For this level, you must pledge one of your children to a lifetime of mental slavery. In return, your player will enjoy strength, speed, and mental acuity above his normal abilities during three games, and he will be granted immense popularity among his teammates. You will receive the benefits of the previous levels, as well as access to the Bobcat Clubhouse during one game.
  


• Trusted Friend of the Bobcat: This level compels you to personally donate your child to the hungry flames of the Great Bobcat while he quenches his thirst with your tears. Additionally, the tongues of the flames will brand your skin with the Great Bobcat's mark, which will itch severely for twenty-three years (note: creams and prescription medications have no effect). In return, your son will enjoy incredible athleticism during all games and will be guaranteed to break a school football record. Additionally, with parental permission, your son may have his choice of one Bobcat cheerleader to do with as he pleases for an evening. You will receive the benefits of the previous levels, as well as a private lunch with QB1, Darryl Lazenbee.


• Protector of the Bobcat: This level requires that you enter Brae'Uhl, the spiritual wasteland over which the Great Bobcat holds dominion. In Brae'Uhl, you will wander for a thousand years, suffering through unquenchable thirst and driven mad by mocking visions from your past life. Then you will die. In return, your son will become one of the greatest high school football players in state history. You will also receive the benefits of the previous levels, along with a golf outing with Coach Banks and a free tanning session at Banks Bahamas Tanning Salon.


• Most Devoted Protector of the Bobcat: This level's requirements are unspeakable. In return, however, the Bobcats will win the state championship. You will also receive the benefits of the previous levels, as well as an audience with Great Bobcat himself and a memorial plaque on your choice of stadium seat. Interested boosters must contact the Great Protector of the Bobcat (Mr. Thompson at clubhouse ext. 293) and prove their worth in series of grueling trials. Most, perhaps all, will perish in these trials.
  

After reading this letter, take a breath. Consider all the great things life has given you, and how expendable many of them are. Consider how much your son, and your son's future, means to you. Consider the Great Bobcat's horrible vengeance, which you cannot escape no matter how far you run.

Only then should you make a decision. And we know it will be the right one, for you, and for the great tradition of Bobcat football.

Sincerely,

The Bobcat Booster Team

Story of a Sweater: Insight Iconography V-Neck Sweater from Urban Outfitters

Actually, it didn't even seem like a good idea at the time.

Yes/No/Maybe: Ice-forming

A Serious Man. Like any self-disrespecting nerd, I took a few film classes in college. On the first day of one of them, the intimidating German lady professor asked us to introduce ourselves and name our favorite director(s). In retrospect, this icebreaking tactic seems well-intentioned but actually ice-forming, because as soon as some lameass has announced his pick for favorite director, every other snob in the room (and they are all snobs) begins to silently mock that dude's pick as "pretentious" or "commercial."

So, when I introduced myself and said "the Coen Brothers," I thought I had beaten the game. Because who could hate on that pick without swallowing some shame? The Coens had serious film cred (they won the Palme d'Or at Cannes for the mostly forgotten Barton Fink) and Hollywood film cred (two Oscars for Fargo, still one of my top five movies) and made a bunch of other weird, technically excellent movies that were often very funny (e.g.).

Yet what seemed like a smart pick in 2003-ish rapidly became a pick that required some defense. Their most recent movie had been The Man Who Wasn't There, which I liked and still do, but overall is kind of mannered and forgettable. And then they made Intolerable Cruelty and The Ladykillers back to back. Yikes. I'm not even going to link to those. After that, it was like, "Well, they used to be really good..."

And then they made No Country for Old Men, which was good, but a very by-the-book adaptation of the novel and also a bit too much of a throwback to their first movie, Blood Simple. So they had made penance, but still seemed like they were in a bit of a decline, creatively.

And then they made A Serious Man.

This movie is fantastic. It is, sort of, the story of Job, re-told in a suburban Minnesota town in the 1960s, but it is much funnier than that. It is also kind of terrifying in some ways. In fact, for nearly two hours, the movie holds you in this tense balance between laughter and fear, occasionally dipping you toward one or the other, only to bring you right back. And this isn't sudden-loud-noise fear. This is truly existential fear.

Everything about this movie is just sharp. If you get a chance, go see it.

Ocean Eyes by Owl City. It seems that everyone who recommends this album also hems and haws about how, yes, it does sound like the Postal Service but it's still good. It's an argument that I understand and sympathize with, and I like the Postal Service, so I got this album.

And maybe this is just my initial reaction, but ... yeesh. It is a LOT like the Postal Service. It is way too much like the Postal Service. It is basically a mediocre Postal Service impression, complete with Ben Gibbard soundalike vocals and awkwardly earnest lyrics. It's a nice story that this guy is now semi-famous and earning real $ when he was fairly recently working at a soda bottling factory and recording music in his parents' basement. But maybe a few more years toiling away in obscurity might have done him some good.

Sometimes you try hard to make a concept work and you just can't do it, perhaps because the concept is not that great

So I'm afraid you won't be reading Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s dream journal today.

Here is a better concept instead:

The big game

Sweating? More like flooding. This was it. It all came down to me. It all came down to this moment.

Two strikes.

Fourth down.

Ten seconds on the shot clock.

Pressure? More like pressure cooker. And I'm the meat.

The goalie stared me down.

The pitcher gave me his evilest eye.

My caddy stepped gently away.

Scared? More like terrified, horrified, and shaken up. I tell ya, I felt about as loose as a petrified forest.

I picked up my racket.

Made sure my skis were nice and tight.

Squeezed the worn leather of the rugby ball.

Focused? More like laser-sighted. I come fully equipped.

The crowd thundered and brayed.

My girl nodded to me from the area designated "Table Tennis Tournament Audience."

The luge countdown reached zero.

In the zone? More like I was the zone. And the zone was me.

I put the shot.

I released the arrow.

I threw the goatskin-covered jai alai ball.

Knew it? More like ... no, that's right. I knew it.

I knew I had just set a new county record in frisbee golf. For this particular course only.

Sweet? More like bittersweet.

The worst nicknames in American history

Most public figures in American history had a nickname. It's just that you don't hear about a lot of them because they were so terrible. In my research, I have unearthed many of these forgotten, awful nicknames. Enjoy? – David "Kale Sandwich" McCullough


"Smelly" Pocahontas – Indian who provided assistance to English settlers in Virginia; most likely not any more odorous than other people of the time; nickname potentially started by a jilted John Smith

Roger "Jesus Christ" Williams – prominent theologian and settler of Rhode Island; didn't say he was Jesus Christ, just told people to call him that

Crispus "Placeholder" Attucks – young black American who died in the "Boston Massacre"; for his entire life, struggled to come up with the perfect nickname, only to be shot the day after he'd finally found it; unfortunately, he never told anyone what it was

Benjamin "The Benj" Franklin – prominent scientist and inventor; Founding Father; "The Benj," which he asked people to call him later in his life, was one of his worst inventions, and it never caught on

John "Dash-It-All" Adams – second U.S. president; frequent letter writer; no recorded instances of him writing, saying, or being fond of the phrase "Dash it all"

James "Playful" Madison – fourth U.S. president; his nickname, ascribed to him in childhood, always creeped people out a little bit when he was an adult

Eli "Printing Press" Whitney – inventor of the cotton gin, not the printing press

Abraham "Lincoln" Lincoln – sixteenth U.S. president; while probably the greatest president in U.S. history and an otherwise highly intelligent and thoughtful man, he never quite grasped the concept of nicknames

Walt "Obviously Not Gay" Whitman – famed poet; self-ascribed nickname only drew attention to the fact that he was most likely gay

Levi "Cotton Gin" Strauss – inventor of blue jeans, not the cotton gin

John Phillip "Soupsa" Sousa – composer of popular marching band music; was actually rather fond of soup, but "Soupsa" is obviously a terrible nickname

Amelia "Nosehart" Earhart – aviation pioneer; her nickname, an awful play on words, was given to her by a teacher when she was eight years old; it depressed her throughout her entire life, and some say it led her to disappearance

Franklin Delano "Jonas Salk" Roosevelt – thirty-second U.S. president; cruelly, his nickname was the actual name of the inventor of the polio vaccine; no one is quite sure how this happened

Harry "Trombone" Truman – thirty-third U.S. president; not a trombone player or trombone enthusiast, though there is at least an alliterative quality to this one

Robert "Food" McNamara – architect of the Vietnam War; was not particularly overweight; to this day, prefers smoothies to solid foods

George W. "Astronaut 5000" Bush – forty-third U.S. president; a renowned nickname-giver, everyone in his White House pretended to know what he meant when he called himself "Astronaut 5000"; he made it even more confusing when he sometimes referred to himself as "Astronaut 6000"

Dr. Love

From my upcoming Motown-style album, Songs About Doctors:

"Dr. Love"

Ooh, I went to my doctor
Said 'I'm feelin' strange, (so strange)
I've got a fever of 103,
And my mind is feelin' deranged,"

I started to tell him,
How I thought I might have the flu, (might have the flu)
But he stopped me in the middle of my sentence,
And said, 'I know what's goin on with you,'

He said, 'You're in looooove,
It's the simplest thing in the world,
You're in looooove,
You're in love with a boy or a girl.'
He said, 'You're in looooove,
It's an easy diagnosis to make,
You're in looooove,
Just save me some of that weddin' cake.'

I sat there in silence,
for five seconds flat, (seconds flat)
Then I said, 'Doctor, doctor,
I really don't think it's that,

I've got diarrhea,
And I often have shortness of breath, (shortness of breath)
Sometimes I find blood in my stool,
And in the mornings I feel like death.'

He said, 'You're in looooove,
It's the simplest thing in the world,'
He said, 'You're in looooove,
You're in love with a boy or a girl.'
He said, 'You're in looooove,
And you've got it pretty bad,
You're in looooove,
So there's need to get mad.'

I took a deep breath,
Got as calm as I could get, (I could get)
Then I looked that doctor in the eye,
and said, 'That's inappropriate,

'My eyes are oozin' pus,
Slow, sick, and dyin' is how I feel, (how I feel)
And you're a medical doctor for God's sake,
So don't tell that I'm head over heels.'

He said, 'I'm sorry but you're in loooooove,
It's the simplest thing in the world,'
He said, 'You're in looooove,
You're in love with a boy or a girl.'
He said, 'You're in looooove,
Any doctor would tell you the same,
You're in looooove,
No need to give me credit or blame.'

I screamed really loud,
And said, 'Stop playin' games, (playin' games)
Don't tell me I'm in love,
Just cause Love is your last name,

Is this the diagnosis,
That you give to everyone? (everyone)
What would you say if a guy came in here,
And he'd clearly been shot with a gun?'

He said, 'I'd say he's in loooooove,
It's the simplest thing in the world,'
He said, 'He's in looooove,
He's in love with a boy or a girl.'
He said, 'He's in looooove,
It's a pretty textbook case,
He's in looooove,
That's why there's blood all over the place.'

I doubled over in pain,
and fell onto the floor, (on the floor)
I said, 'Doctor, if this is love,
Then why don't you give me the cure?'

Suddenly I felt my heart,
Explode all up inside my chest, (inside my chest)
My eyes began to close,
And I entered cardiac arrest.

The doctor said, 'See! You're in looooove,
It's the simplest thing in the world,'
He said, 'You're in looooove,
You're in love with a boy or a girl.'
He said, 'You're in looooove,
And you're probably about to die,
He said, 'You're in looooove,
Nurse, can you remove this guy?'

La-la-la.

Yes/No/Maybe: Heart, heart, heart, and stomach

The Invention of Lying. If you click through to my complete profile on this blog, you'll see that Ricky Gervais, the star and writer and director of The Invention of Lying, is one of my primary Interests, along with Comedy in general, the electronic game Catchphrase Jr., and Yogurt Beverages. These things are near and dear to my heart, heart, heart, and stomach, respectively. So I wanted to see this, as it involved the first two of those things, and because it was Ricky's first solo film project, and because it has tons of funny people in it.

So I did see it. And ... it was not near or dear to my heart, stomach, or any other of my organs. The premise is that, in this world, everyone tells the truth, all the time. No one has ever lied. People seem psychologically incapable of doing so or even understanding what a lie would be. But then Ricky's character figures out that he can lie. And he begins to take advantage of it in order to be successful.

It's an appealing and clear premise, but it's also an incredibly limiting one, especially since the whole movie is about the premise. While other stories might have weirder or wilder premises, something that remains unaltered in almost every single story is human nature, and something that nearly every single story does is establish a set of environmental parameters in which human nature acts and is acted upon. But the basic concept of The Invention of Lying is that human nature is fundamentally altered. And it's altered in such a way as to render everyone except Ricky into truth-spouting machines. It's almost like a Twilight Zone episode in that sense.

Except it's a 100-minute long Twilight Zone episode, which is unfortunate because a story that is almost entirely about a single idea, rather than real humans, begins to sputter and stall quickly, even when there are talented people acting it out and exploring funny aspects of the idea. This is especially true in this movie because it's impossible to emotionally connect with anyone except Ricky, the only real human. Even Jennifer Garner, who does a great job as the love interest in what must have been a really confusing role, never seems like anything more than a pretty robot. [THE NOTIFICATION OF SPOILER] I kept wanting her, or somebody, anybody, to learn how to lie. That would have provided real tension, and real humanity. But it doesn't happen, until a silly gag at the end.

Now, there are moments of humanity, and excellent comedy. Gervais's acting is superb, and he gets tons of laughs from doing his usual awkwardnesses, which feel very true in this strange world. And when he's by his mother's deathbed -- I really started tearing up at that scene. And, overall, this is a boldly atheistic romantic comedy with the potential to start conversations about religion and about the necessity of lies and fictions in our daily lives. But the directing and the writing just aren't strong enough to hold these moments of brilliance together. I laughed and I cried, but I was mostly disappointed.

Especially because Christopher Guest is criminally underused.

"The Brothers Zell" and "The Theory of Everything" at the Magnet Theater. I caught these two "Test Drive" shows this past Sunday and had a great time. The first show was an improvised play of sorts featuring, appropriately enough, the Brothers Zell, who are a couple of brothers living together and having strange adventures together in the 1920s. It was silly and quite funny and featured '20s-era voices and trappings and such, which is my favorite era for voices and trappings and such. The second show was an improv set featuring three stalwarts of the Magnet community just talking. Very little physical motion and no change of scenes. It was simply three dudes, in character, talking about Big Stuff and Small Stuff and it was refreshing to see, as the emphasis was entirely on listening and speaking and the humor came from exploring ideas on-stage. Different and funny.

The Ed Hardy Boyz. Making fun of douchebags who promote "vokka events" and wear Ed Hardy clothes is like grabbing a fish from a barrel and assassinating it at point-blank range. But when Nick Kroll and Jon Daly are the assassins, they do it with panache.

There is so much about this photo that is confusing

but what is clear is that it is great.

[Via]

Entries in the Schlitz Book of World Records

• Used to Be the Fastest Guy in School, No Joke – Darrell Sotherby (Grant, Indiana)

• Does Whatever He Wants, Whenever He Wants the Most Guy – Hank Proctor (Small Bend, Arkansas)

• Gives the Least of a Crap What You Or Anybody Else Thinks, G*ddamnit – Scott Velt (Portal, South Carolina)

• Most King of This Butt-Smellin' Town – Trey Banker (Earl, Virginia)

• Best Idea for an Invention, Come On, Check It Out – Wayne Polster (Hilltop, Washington)

• Can Fix Anything and Make It Better the Best of Anybody – Quentin Carles (Erskine, Texas)

• Will Not Believe It, No Matter What You Say, Simply Will Refuse to Believe that Total Garbage – Jake Traylor (Carlton Caves, Kentucky)

• Reads the Most Books About Pretty Much Everything, Just Ask Him a Question About Somethin' and He'll Answer It, Long as You're Reasonable – Seth Copper (Low Valley, Alabama)

• Coulda Been-a Movie Star if He'd Wanted, Just Look at These Features – Vincent Siriglio (St. Louis, Missouri)

• The Duct-Tape Guy – Greg Zsabo (Rolling, Nebraska)

• Been Everywhere, Just About Everywhere More or Less Guy – Richard Blasingame (Cragport, Maine)

• Up for Anything, Pretty Much – Dan Lillian (San Diego, California)

• May Not Be the Galaga All-Time Top Score Holder, or What Have You, But Definitely the Top Player He's Ever Seen, By Far – Craig Essen (Newton, Idaho)

• Pays for His Music Every Time, Not Like These Teenage Thieves on the Internet, and They Are Thieves, Let's Not Mince Words – Fred Troppingham (Denton, Pennsylvania)

• Yeah, Whatever, The More the Merrier the Most Guy – Steve Cavanaugh (Bear Lake, Minnesota)

• Just Won't, So Don't Even Ask – Terry Hines (Green Hill, Vermont)

Treasure pool rules

• Appropriate swimming apparel ONLY. This means: full-body bathing costumes, silken relaxation robes, or bikinis made of diamonds.
  


• NO sliding gently into the pool. You MUST dive in.
  


• While beneath the surface, you MUST swallow coins and, upon surfacing, spit them out of your mouth as if they were water.


• You MUST backstroke lazily across the surface of the pool.
  


• Toddlers MUST wear gold-plated swim diapers.


• Children under 12 years of age MUST be accompanied by a responsible servant over 18.


• Swimmers under $1,000,000 in assets WILL be escorted off the premises by a gruff, enormous man.
  


• NO personal music devices. The overhead speakers playing "We're in the Money" on a continuous loop MUST be audible at all times.


• You MUST smoke.


• You MUST drink.


• You MUST chortle and guffaw.


• You MUST act lecherously toward the lifeguards.
  


• Roughhousing, horseplay, and general chicanery are encouraged.


• If you are caught stealing coins, jewels, cash, or any treasure found in the pool, you WILL be publicly shamed.


• No black people.
  

Awkward Semaphore Conversations: The Dream

Morning, Eric. I had the craziest dream last night.

[Silence.]

I mean, it was just wild. One of those dreams you'll remember for the rest of your life, you know?

[Silence.]

Man, it was insane. Just an insane dream. One of those dreams you can't wait to tell people about because you know they are going to freak out when they hear it. It's like it could be it's own movie or something. It was that good. Just an AMAZING dream. You know?

Fine! What happened? Tell me all about what happened in your AMAZING dream.

Oh, the funny thing is? I don't remember what happened. Weird, right?

[Silence.]

Something inside

When I am at someone's apartment or house for the first time,
I idly open drawers,
and cabinets,
and closets,
and shower curtains,
and window shades,
and music boxes,
and bread boxes,
and refrigerator doors,
and washing machine doors,
and dryer doors,
and tiny little hutches for keys,

because there is always something inside
that I haven't seen before.

And, who knows,
there might be old Roman coins in there.