Road House
How was your Christmas? Did you get everything you wanted? That’s great. I got World Peace. No batteries though. Never mind. I also got Road House on DVD. Road House. Patrick Swayze film. On DVD. Yes, that’s right. Yes, you may feel jealous. Okay, stop feeling jealous. Instead, feel dread as I dissect this classic piece of movie history in lieu of writing anything more appealing. Road House is directed by Rowdy Herrington with aplomb – and, in parts, two plombs – and no, I’d never heard of him either. Apparently he also directed Gladiator. But not that Gladiator. The one with Cuba Gooding Jr and Brian Dennehy. No. Me neither. I’d guess Dennehy was a bad cop though. So what’s the story? Patrick Swayze plays Dalton. Dalton is not just a bouncer: he’s a famous bouncer! Possibly even more famous than the most famous bouncer you can think of. Go on. Really think of a famous bouncer. Well, Dalton is more famous than that. And he’s the second best in the business. The bouncing business. As our movie starts Dalton is doing what bouncers do at a little place called Band Stand, a club popular with the tone deaf and those afflicted with no natural rhythm that turns its nose up at DJs and other modern contraptions and only allows live country rock bands. Permed hair is big and cowboy hats are common so we know without being told that this film is: made in the 1980s, set in Incestville, U.S.A., going to make us cry at some point. Standing at the end of the bar with arms folded, scanning the crowd, being watched by a mysterious stranger wearing one of those string ties that cowboys wear and which look kinda cool in a "kinda cool on anyone but me" kinda way, bopping his head up and down very, very nearly in time with the song being massacred on stage, Dalton’s superior bouncing sixth sense suddenly starts to tingle. That smashed glass sound! The money slammed on the table! The knife! The kick! The woman on the floor! It can only mean Bouncer Warning Alert Amber! But Dalton’s the second best in the business and his bouncers soon have the matter in hand. And then they let the angry man go so he can stab Dalton in the arm. Perhaps if they’d been trained by the best in the business they might not have done that but who can really tell what goes on in the magical world of Bouncerdom. Our angry man tells Dalton he’s always wanted to "try" him and I think it’s a sentiment we...
American Football Explained
Warning! Long post! You probably won’t read this! Warning! In time for Thanksgiving and not in any way, shape, or form complete or remotely comprehensible! Both I and my other half are keen followers of American Football despite the fact that neither of us are American and only one of us was created in a laboratory from an old football, some nails, and a wind-up toy frog. Ribbet. I follow – and have done so since the late 1980s before you accuse me of jumping on some mad New England-supporting bandwagon – the New England Patriots. My other half is more of a newcomer to the sport and, after careful consideration a couple of years ago, decided that the Minnesota Vikings had the nicest colour kit. Purple. She likes purple. We have tried and tried and tried to get other people interested in the NFL but people being people and not yet being automatons with controllable lizard brains (note to shareholders of neOnbubble Sauromaton plc.: soon my friends, soon) the swine don’t seem interested citing various reasons ranging from "It’s all stop-start, stop-start" to "They’re all girls playing in all that padding; they wouldn’t last 2 minutes in a real man’s game of golf", and asking questions like "Don’t they stop the game every 8.2 seconds for commercials?" and "Is there an option in interactive viewing for cheerleader-gusset cam?" So, because nobody listens to me in real life and I have anecdotal proof that over two have in my virtual existence I now present a definitive guide to understanding, appreciating, and enjoying American Football. It’s Rugby For Girls, Isn’t It? No. Whenever someone attempts to compare rugby and American football I am forced to suppress the urge to rip out that person’s intestine and feed it up and down their nasal passages before twirling it into a delightful parody of a handlebar moustache. Yes, the ball shares some similarities in shape. Well done. However, last time I checked, nobody ever compared beach volleyball to marbles yet, surprise!, both use round balls. Baseball and mafia board meetings both utilise bats yet rarely are the two mixed up. Roller skaters wear kneepads. So did the guy who fitted the carpet at my parent’s house. Guess what? Not similar at all. NFL Fun FactFans of the Green Bay Packers are known as "cheesy helmets" but it’s not because they don’t wash down below, ha ha! It’s because they stick their penises in lumps of cheddar. When rugby players come together in a scrum (no double entendres please) they start more-or-less locked together and push. When I used to play rugby I was...
Your First Camel
A Message From The Department Of Homeland Camels Like it, love it, or loathe it but sooner or later there will be no more oil. Oily people are here to stay but no more oil. If we could refine the oil from oily people that would be something but we can’t. Bottom line: the oil’s running out and there’s nothing we can do about it. You could stick your head in the sand like the cunning yet proverbial and quite often peck-happy ostrich and hope that such an oil disaster doesn’t happen in your time. Or you could look to the future, become known as an entrepreneur, wallow in adoration from nubile wenches, and be the first person on the block to own … a camel! A camel? But aren’t there better, more futuristic alternative transportation methods? Oh sure. Hovercars perhaps? Personal jetpacks? Segway trains? Molecular de- and re-materialisation tubes? If there’s one thing that scientific programmes from the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s have taught us then it’s that every futuristic future fuel of the future has singularly and spectacularly failed to appear. We had the car back then and we’ve got the car back now. Looking to the future simply doesn’t cut it but we can always look to the past, learn, and modify it. What are the benefits of the camel solution? Camels occur naturally in nature just like oil but, unlike oil, camels are renewable. This should be good enough but there are plenty of other renewable animals out there too: greenfly for instance, harnessed in herds of several thousand, could easily pull a small child on a skateboard and that’s just the tip of the iceberg of their potential. However, were we to suddenly ditch oil in favour of the aphid we’d find ourselves at the wrong end of the Stick Of Wrath wielded by the Saudi royal family. It’s a big stick with a long reach and it’s got sharp bits at the tip. The mighty camel is the answer to all our problems. You’ve sold me. I want a camel. What should I know about them? I’m glad you asked. The History Of The Camel Remains of an ancestor of the modern camel have been found in caves in France dating back to the late Jurassic period. As with all creatures of the time the camel was far larger back then measuring over five metres in height and with a wingspan of twice that. Palaeontologists still debate to this day whether the carnivorous Humpadactyl could actually fly. What is known for certain from experiments undertaken in 1975 out of the back of a...
Pool
I’ve been insanely busy which is very similar to normal busy but has delusions and danger thrown in for free. If you don’t believe me you can ask Joanna, the mechanical hamster that lives among the sentient wax in my left ear. He’ll complain about having a girl’s name and you’ll need to have a good grasp of Swedish and semaphore to comprehend his responses but, if pestered enough, he’ll confirm that my busy levels have been hovering above the insane level for about five days now. That’s over a month in dog years. When I’ve had a smidgeon of free time recently I’ve crawled into the chair in my living room and flicked on the television. Sport helps me relax. Well, watching sport helps me relax. Partaking in sport helps me sweat and I don’t need any help sweating thankyou very much. Damned armpits. Why can’t we sweat internally and then excrete it out later through a nozzle in the belly button? It would rust belly button rings and might persuade women with guts that extend past their waistline to damn well stop wearing cropped tops and these are good things. Why would God invent sweat glands, then invent t-shirts, then invent anti-perspirant deodorant. That. Does. Not. Work? Does that make any sense Joanna? Oh, good point … The sports that currently have my undivided attention during the near-catatonia that follows in the wake of the insane busying are football and pool. The Copa America is taking place over in Peru at the moment and the World Pool Championship is being held this year in Taiwan. If you’re unsure where Peru and Taiwan are then let me explain: they’re on the other side of the planet. Bloody timezones. When Joanna and I take over the world everyone will move to Greenwich Mean Time and a series of space mirrors and space umbrellas will ensure we all get the same amount of daylight and night at the same time. Now, I’ve mentioned the kingly sport of 9-ball pool before. I mention it every time there’s a world championship and every time that the Mosconi Cup takes place: that’s two articles a year I don’t have to give much thought to. As luck would have it I never bothered moving across many of my articles from previous incarnations of this site and my key demographic is the short-term memory problem-ridden, middle-aged male or female with no interest in pool making a "completely new and original" post about pool satisfy both criteria of "making sure people don’t think I’ve died" and "boring visitors to tears" almost perfectly. Rules Of 9-Ball Pool...
Pictures of Jentina
Ever since I linked to this article about Jentina this site has been hit with an increasing number of searches for "pictures of Jentina." A cruel, evil, twisted madman with hate in his soul, venom in his blood, and psychopathic goblins controlling his bodily functions might try to take advantage of this traffic and concoct some poorly-formed article about the young singer in the hope of drawing in more and more of the fans desperate to gaze in awe at the next big thing to hit the UK charts for no reason other than spite. This insane genius might litter his article with phrases such as "Jentina, naked!" or "topless photos of Jentina" because he suspects that many of the "fans" are actually "perverts." Or male, which amounts to the same thing. As pure, unadulterated, bad luck would have it I am half evil on my mother’s side. So, for those who don’t know, let’s fill in some details about singing "sensation" Jentina and we’ll also make a bit of an effort to stop enclosing everything in "quotation marks" as it can "get" annoying when overdone or done wr"ongl"y. Jentina is one of fourteen children to a Romany mum. We don’t know anything about her dad and just because her mum is Romany and she has thirteen siblings it would not be fair to simply assume that neither does she. Mildly amusing and quite probable, but not fair. She grew up in Surrey which, for those who don’t know, is one of the posher areas of England. It could well have been the fact that being part of an extensive family of gypsies burning things and pissing on Aston Martins in the centre of Guildford city centre is what helped get her noticed. But it’s just as likely that music producers are drawn to voids where talent is absent like moths to a collapsing binary star system inhabited by other moths with a string of bad luck that sees their binary star systems collapse with alarming regularity. Bad Ass Strippa is the single whose release is imminent and whose video can be seen on The Box and Kiss if you’re unlucky enough to be flicking past at the wrong time on the way to Kerrang. You can also see the video to the song on Jentina‘s website. The song tells the story of Strippa, an ass bought by the poor villagers of Kingston Upon Thames with their combined savings to help them transport their wares to Olde Londone Towne. Strippa, despite being an ass, was as stubborn as a mule and as wily as the wily donkey, and ate...
Sick Jokes
The following jokes are, at best, in less-than-savoury taste and, in some instances, downright sick. They made me laugh though. However, if you’re offended by playful paedophilia, animal sex, and dead baby jokes you really, really, really shouldn’t read any further. If you take offence at anything on this page – or discover, for example, that a child of yours has happened upon the page after “accidentally” typing in the website address despite your careful “no supervision or protective software and don’t bother me because Jerry Springer’s on” policy of care – then the words “tough” and “shit” spring to mind. By looking at the semi-colon within the square brackets here [;] you agree to waive any right to complain. These jokes were all culled from the forums at Something Awful because I wanted to save them for posterity – if you’re not a member then you really should join for a small one-time fee; it will be the best money you’ve ever spent or feel free to complain bitterly about it to me and experience the sheer, unadulterated joy of having your email ignored. SICK JOKES BELOW – DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER IF YOU ARE NARROW-MINDED AND SELF-RIGHTEOUS IF YOU DON’T LIKE THIS PAGE … FUCK OFF REALLY. GO AWAY. NOT INTERESTED IF YOU ARE INCAPABLE OF COMPREHENDING THIS AND COMPLAIN ABOUT THIS PAGE IN THE COMMENTS THEN EXPECT INFORMATION ABOUT YOUR VISIT TO BE PUBLISHED AND EDITING OF YOUR COMMENT FEEL FREE TO ADD YOUR OWN SICK JOKES IN THE COMMENTS BUT PLEASE NOTE THAT SICK DOES NOT EQUAL RACIST (IT REALLY DOESN’T) AND RACISM WILL NOT BE TOLERATED ON THIS, A PAGE NAMED ‘SICK JOKES’ One day, Little Suzy goes swimming in the lake with her grandmother. After they get out they go to shower. “Grandma” Little Suzy asks, pointing between her grandmother’s legs. “What’s that?” “Oh,” her grandmother replies. “That’s my beaver, dear.” The next day Little Suzy goes swimming with her mother, and they go showering afterwards too. “Mommy, is that your beaver?” asks the girl. “Er, yes it is, Suzy. Where did you learn that?” her mother answers. “From Grandma. But I think hers is dead because its tongue was sticking out.” How is knocking up your girlfriend like locking your keys out of your car? The problem goes away with the aid of a coathangar. What is 12″ long and makes a woman moan all night? Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. What’s black and blue and hates sex? The ten year old in my trunk. Why did Helen Keller’s dog commit suicide? It couldn’t live with the name “aaaoouuueuuueaaoaa” any longer. Whats...
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