Archive for October, 2012

I Hate Me, part 208,992

I’ve been going to the gym for a while now. Not in any attempt to get a “Hero of the Beach” type physique but more of a blind panic of never being as heavy as I was (the only comforting thought about gaining all that weight back is I would probably drop dead, so at least I wouldn’t have to worry about it). When I go (zero to five times a week)I get up at 7am, throw on my formless grays, grumble pleasantries to my wife, grab my I-Pod and I’m off. I used to listen to music ( a workout favorite was The Coachwhips) but after awhile I switched to podcasts. I usually listen to Tom Scharpling’s Best Show on WFMU, it’s always interesting and funny and one podcast will last about three days at the gym. The gym has a social order that I really haven’t seen since high school and have been trying to avoid ever since. There’s a group of older guys who are a cross between a school clique and a coffee klatch. They look like a bunch of ex-teachers and civil servants and they hang out at a machine where one of them is working out and chat and glare at people who aren’t in their group. Now I know that I’m probably paranoid about this but I never had much luck with cliques. I’m not looking to make friends and it’s too early to really have a coherent conversation. There’s a couple of people I know as customers from work and we’ll say hi or give an acknowledgement nod. So I turn on my I-Pod and keep my head down.  A couple of weeks ago I was on this workout contraption and I was listening to the Best Show. Tom has this character, a puppet named Gary the Squirrel, who pops up from time to time and hassles people, it reminds me of a character who would be on the old Uncle Floyd Show (an old bare bones TV show, that was jersey-centric). I don’t know what it is but whenever I hear Gary, I laugh out loud. So Gary turned up on the podcast and  I started laughing and I looked up and there was a guy from the old boy network just staring (this guy reminds me of Red from the Tube Bar). I of course panicked and tried to explain myself “…it’s uh….Tom Scharpling….uh…the best show….wfmu…podcast..uh….funny…uh..”. Then I realized that he wasn’t looking at me, he was listening to one of his chums on a machine behind me and I had interrupted them, then I got a glare. I slunk away and went on a different machine far away.

Gary the Squirrel

I got nothin’

I have hit  goddamned brick wall/writing block and I got nothin’. Here are the only things I had over the last two weeks:

*Those new fucking Toyota Prius ad’s. I’m all for green energy but that cutesy bullshit has gone overboard. Those commercials make me want to drive around in a flatbed truck with a tire fire in the back.

*A musical based on NPR Morning Edition host Soterios Johnson. All I have is one couplet “Oh Soterios, you can’t be serious”.

* I thought that comedian Paul Scheer would be able to play Hugo Weavings Matrix character, Agent Smith but I found no photographs to support this.

I will hopefully have something more substantial soon.

Paul Scheer could do this, right?

Still More Polka Record Covers

I found a Stella Records insert in one of the polka records we just got in. Some of the greatest, most primitive record covers come from this company. The thing that amazes me about the Stella album covers is that lot of these look like one offs by people who had never seen album art before. These are detail scans of a B&W insert, so the quality is not great but well worth a look. [Click on image to enlarge]

Still More Records I Found

Here’s a few more lp’s and covers I have found recently [click on image to enlarge]

First, what the fuck is going on here? This is the cover of a legit Allman Brothers LP, released in Germany

The back cover to the Allman Brothers LP

The Gabriels

The Gabriels (detail)

back cover to “Teen Polka Band”

Ms. Kurmel looks like she will not accept sub-par polka







[with Miguel Cabrera being the first player since 1967 to win baseball’s triple crown, I’m reprinting a piece on the last triple crown winner, Carl Yastrzemski and his patented birth control pills]

(A&P Press, Kelly Stinnett)
(Montvale N.J.) Bayer pharmaceuticals bending to government pressure has released a statement explaining how their YAZ birth control pill works. The official statement which is a 10 page document can be broken down into a few understandable points:

* Boston Red Sox star and Hall of Famer (elected 1989) Carl “Yaz” Yastrzemski is multiply cloned and is shrunk down to approx. 1/100,000th of his original size.

* Thousands of “lil Yaz’s” are put into pills, armed with tiny baseball bats.

* After the YAZ contraceptive pill is taken, the microscopic Yaz’s burst free from their pills and form perimeters around unfertilized eggs.

* When sperm attempts to gain access to the egg they are attacked by thousands of bat wielding tiny Yaz’s

* Yaz’s success rate is 99% when taken according to instructions.

This “Yaz”…

…is made from this “Yaz”


I Hate Me, Part 101,888

This is going back a long time, to around 1982. First let me get to the photograph, I’m on the right. I have no idea what possessed me to buy and wear a beret. In a life full of fashion mistakes, it was one of the biggest. My fashion mistakes weren’t in the man’s man “I’ll wear fuckin’ sweatpants out to dinner, I don’t give a shit.” type way. It was more of half assed hipster literary bullshit type thing. An illegal concoction of pretentiousness and idiocy. That’s my friend Sean standing next to me in back of my car, in the driveway of a house that a bunch of us lived in. It was a weird house, a few months after this photo was taken another guy who lived there pulled a gun on Sean for taking his parking spot and later we ended up burning furniture in the fireplace for heat, not knowing that it was cheap furniture covered in wood-like plastic and we had to open the all the windows and doors because of the fumes. Two nights before this picture the restaurant that Sean and I cooked had closed under a cloud of embezzlement and drug trafficking. The last night the restaurant was open, a bunch of people from work wedged into my VW Rabbit and we tried to drive out on the beach. I drove over a huge rock and fucked up my oil pan, which I wouldn’t find out about until later. Right after this picture was taken we thought it would be a good idea to go on a road trip and visit Sean’s brother who lived up in Rhode Island. Sean’s girlfriend couldn’t go, so it was just us two. Sean’s brother was going to cooking school in Providence and was always up for drinking. So we spent the better part of three days really drunk up in Providence. When we started home, my car got about two blocks and just seized up. I had it towed and when they got it on the lift, they pulled off the oil pan and pieces of my engine fell out. It looked like robot soup. I had done severe damage to the oil pan and parts of the engine that were near it (when I hit the rock back home). The car was shot, I couldn’t afford a new engine. I ended up selling the car for scrap up there, which gave us enough money for train fare home. …and then depression set in.