Archive for March, 2011

Sir! (July, 1961)

I know there are a bunch of books that collect covers from “men’s magazines” and while the covers are undeniably insane the ad’s kind of spell out what kind of readership they attracted. Here’s a bunch from Sir!, July 1961.   The guy on the cover seems to be saying “Not now fraulein, I must print more money so we can go out tonight!”                                                                   [CLICK ON EACH PICTURE TO ENLARGE IT]




The diet or A deck chair off the Titanic*

I haven’t written as much here as I’ve wanted to this past month because I’ve been preoccupied with a diet I started, yes a diet. My goal is modest, to go from morbidly obese to obese and then hopefully to just fat. When people hear the word diet the response could go anywhere from “Good for you” to “Eat a salad you fat bastard”. Anyhow, I had this dream about the diet, it roughly goes as follows:
I’ve been on the diet for about a year and have seen tremendous weight loss and I go to the doctor on a seemingly unrelated matter
Dr.-Thanks for coming in Mister Cronin there’s a serious ma….
Me-(upbeat) serious matter?… here’s a serious matter…I lost a hundred… and twenty five…pounds…oh yeah…me…lost a lot of weight.
Dr.-That’s what I wanted to talk to you about…the weight loss…it’s mostly from…uh cancer
Me-…not my…uh…not my dieting tenacity?
Dr.- No I’m sorry…it seems the dieting had very little to do with it…You could have eaten pretty much anything… and you still would have lost the weight…through cancer
Me-….is it…a good cancer?
Dr.-…………………have you ever heard of a good cancer?
I don’t remember the rest of it, I think it involved bacon and sobbing.

*”a deck chair off the Titanic” is a self deprecating phrase my friends the Slattery’s use when any of us lose a bit off weight. EX: “Hey, I lost 5 pounds. It’s like a deck chair off the Titanic”

I Like Records 50

Deceptive crazy guy came in. He comes in a lot but he never appears crazy. Neatly dressed, quiet, minds his own business, doesn’t stagger around in a haphazard way or march through like he’s going to war. No obvious tells, a stealth nut. He was walking down the middle aisle, talking in a low voice. At first I thought he was asking me a question but I looked and he was wearing earbuds, so I figured it was some hands free cel-phone thing. As he got to the closer to the back counter he stopped and yelled “Fucking faggots!”. I thought he was having some sort of an argument on the phone. I looked closer (trying hard not to make eye contact) and saw that the earbuds were attached to a regular i-pod and not a phone, so all the muttering and ranting was to himself or the dark forces that plague him. As he was heading out the back door he turned around and yelled “You guys need to fuckin’ sell bongs again!”

Sunday Music 3/27/11

Wallace Brothers / What-cha feel is what-cha get

The single is from 1973. Of course I don’t own it but I have the next best thing, the amazing comp Midwest Funk: Funk 45s from Tornado Alley on Now Again records

 

 

 

 

 

http://feedtim.files.wordpress.com/2011/03/19-what-cha-feel-is-what-cha-get1.m4a

Joe Jr. 2

Because you didn’t ask for it, (ok one person did) some more Joe Jr. Guaranteed to be 75% less funny than the last batch (which is pretty hard to do). Enjoy.

I Hate Me, Part 295,054

I thought I was in for the night and my wife came into the living room, “You forgot to get the puppy’s training pads.” I muttered a curse against little shitpaw and headed out to Foodtown, they were closing in ten minutes. I grabbed a pack of the training pads and headed to the counter, the only one open. There was an old couple ahead of me with enough food for them, their children and their grandchildren. They had questions on the prices of most of their groceries and they had strict bagging instructions. The old guy was wearing a Yankees cap which made me dislike him even more and I started staring at his head trying to bore a hole through it with my glare (FUCKIN’ FUCK, WOULD YOU HURRY THE FUCK UP, AAAURRGH!). I was so caught up in my anger daydream that didn’t hear when another cashier came up, he was trying to get my attention:
Cashier- Sir..I can ring you up at the courtesy counter…sir…SIR
Me-…oh…uh…uh…cool…thanks…uh…I just spaced out…for a minute
Cashier-(quick dismissive look)…sure
Me-(I’m not stoned!)…yeah…I just…uh……….uh……………uh…..
Cashier-That’ll be $11.42
Me-They’re on sale…Wait…I gotacard…a savings card
I then fumbled through my wallet and spilled the entire contents, there wasn’t much in there but it helped build the case that I was either A) a moron or B) a stoned moron.
Cashier-(smirking) you alright there…sir?
Me-(AAAAAUUURGHH!)….fine..I’mfine…
Cashier-That’ll be $9.42….outta ten…
I took my change and slunk out, the old couple were still being rung up.

Personalized Records 2

I bought a bunch of records this weekend and in the pile were these two gems. The original albums in both cases were Soupy Sales records, Abbey Road was once Soupy Sales Show and Hair was Do the Mouse and Other Teen Hits

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