Posts Tagged ‘ humor? ’

Apples (honorary I Hate Me)

George "the Animal" Steele

George "the Animal" Steele

Curly Joe Derita

Curly Joe Derita

There’s a farm market called Delicious Orchards near where I live. They have good produce but it’s expensive and shopping there is annoying. Every now and again I’ll go and pick up a bunch of good fruit and vegetables, more than we would normally eat. It’s a weird theory based on osmosis that through the very act of buying the good food I’ll get the benefits of it, even if I don’t eat it.
I got there in the afternoon and it was rotten with people. I was picking out some apples when this big goon who looked like a cross between George “the animal” Steele and Curly Joe Derita (the last Curly) pushed my cart out of the way and spit out a pit or a core of whatever piece of fruit he just stole and ate. I gave him my best “Whatthefuck” look and he stared at me like a retarded child and stumbled off. A minute later I saw him at the free sample apple cider table and he filled up the tiny paper cup about 10 times and drank like a man at an oasis. I picked out the rest of my food and navigated through doddering oldsters and annoying children with parents. I got to a register that looked like it had the shortest line. Well, the line was short but the annoyance was long. The only customer in front of me was checking each item for accuracy, “Did you get that, they’re Gala apples, a dollar forty nine a pound.” She was a hippie-ish earth mother type with an older woman who had a wheel chair but preferred to stand and they were arguing over pretty much everything, “Where are the pears? I don’t see the pears.” “We have pears at home.” “Those pears are mealy and not fit to eat.” Add to this a toddler who was going through the already packed groceries, throwing them around and a teenage girl who was useless in controlling the baby “…stop,…stop…don’t go through the bag…stop…”. As I was waiting and trying not to lose my mind I saw this guy standing at the front of the store. A tall slack jawed type, the kind of guy who would always need a shave. He was staring off into space chewing on a toothpick and he had a bright red shirt that had two pictures. The first said “scratch” and was a picture of a monkey scratching his ass, the second said “sniff” and had the monkey smelling his finger. Then I noticed he was smelling his finger. I finally got out of there and as I was heading back to my car I almost got hit by a speeding car going the wrong way through the parking lot. As I was cursing the old people in the car I noticed they were serene and oblivious like the car knew where they were going and they were just along for the ride.

Movie Chat

lucas2This month Movie Lab (PBS network) digs up a seldom seen oddity, George Lucas’s Attack of the 60 Foot Woman.
In 1967 while attending film school and making short films, Lucas was approached by a representative from Dr. Scholl’s foot products. The late sixties were a hard time for Dr. Scholl’s. The hippie movement besides espousing free love and anarchy also went barefoot. Less shoes meant less foot care products and business was down substantially. Dr. Scholl’s wanted Lucas to make an hour long movie/commercial in which foot care products more specifically Dr. Scholl’s foot care products were prominently featured and shown to be “cool”. The movie was to be screened at high schools, vocational schools and junior colleges. Lucas seeing an opportunity to further his craft signed on immediately.
Six months later “The Attack of the 60 Foot Woman” was finished. The movie featured a young Linda Purl as Diane a free spirited “hippie”. While dancing barefoot during a protest at a chemical factory Diane gets caught in a thunderstorm and finds shelter in an empty chemical drum. The next day she wakes up to find she’s been transformed into a giant centipede. Mayhem ensues when Diane trundles about the countryside looking for help while being pursued by the army. Enter Dr. Professor “Click” Davis (James Franciscus) who is working with the army and is a trained podiatrist. Davis finds the distraught centipede woman and using nothing but Dr. Scholl’s foot products calms her down by soothing and healing all sixty of her feet. The final scene finds Diane now human again waking up in a field and realizing it was all a dream. She vows to take better care of her feet using only Dr. Scholl’s foot products.
The Attack of the 60 Foot Woman was a failure as a movie and as a Dr. Scholl’s commercial. It was only shown in a few school districts in the Midwest and was protested against by both hippies and church groups. The only thing successful was a soundtrack album by The Lovin’ Shoehorn which now fetches high prices on the internet.
In his book “Out of the Film Can, Into the Trash Can” Leonard Maltin describes 60 foot Woman as an early watershed moment in Lucas’s career and compares it favorably to the early Spielberg failure “Dik-Bot: Adventures of a lustful robot”. Lucas for his part refuses to talk about the movie and it appears nowhere on his film biography.

Movie Lab (PBS): Check local listings for time and date

The Bob

It’s already established that I’m middle aged and fairly boring. So it’ll be no surprise that I’m a fan of Bob Ross. Not so much the paintings as the man and the show itself. Bob is a human narcotic and the show is a warm bath (to slit your wrists in), from the opening with him and baby woodland creatures to the joy he takes cleaning his brushes “beating the devil out of them”. When I was in high school there was a rumor going around that he was a marine in Viet Nam and did a lot of killing, something snapped and he became what you see on T.V. I don’t know if that’s true but I kind of hope it is. Anyhow, we’ll watch it every so often and when we do we’ll imbue it with a drama that isn’t there.
“It’s done, the painting is done. Stop it.” “he better stop, it’s gonna be too crowded.” “Not another goddamn happy tree, stop it already.” “Is that a stream? What the hell is that?” “Christ, it’s mess, how many goddamn tree’s is he gonna put in.” “Well, that actually works, well done.” “Why did we ever doubt him.” “The Bob is good, the Bob is great.”     


mr. coughee

I was getting my car serviced at the dealer and I’m in the waiting room. Giant wide screen TV tuned to Regis and Kelly, shitty coffee, and an old Sports Illustrated. A salesman is there trying to chat up the cashier. He’s middle aged, surly, slumpy, with a head full of suspect “hair”. All he’s doing is coughing. Coughing like a lung is gonna fly out of his mouth. Coughing as if it’s a language, “cough couuuugh, cough COUGHCOUGH!!” (silence) “koff koff,coughcoughcoughcough.” This went on for fifteen minutes, it was horrible, go the fuck home already. Then he wipes his nose with his hand which he wipes on his ill fitting suit, glares at the people in the waiting room and walks off. If he can act like that and sell a car, he’s the greatest salesman ever.

“white” hot chocolate

Dunkin’ Donuts has been pushing a “white” hot chocolate” I’m not really clear on the “white” part. Is it “white hot” like molten metal and no conventional cup can hold it nor can anybody drink it, “Here’s your white hot chocolate, it’s served in mug hewn out of solid rock, you should let it cool down for a day or so until you drink it.” Or is it something more insidious like a “white power” kind of thing. “I want a hot chocolate, make that a “white” hot chocolate, it goes with my hood.”

get me to the slots

I was driving to Cape May with my wife and we stopped at a rest area right before Atlantic City. On our way out we saw a small crowd of people gather around an old lady who had collapsed in the line at Burger King. The woman, who didn’t seem to be in any danger kept screaming “Get me to the slots! Get me to the slots!” On the outside of the crowd was this down syndrome Burger King employee, a broom pusher. The whole scene with the old woman was blowing his mind and he was hitting a table with his broom. I felt bad for the guy, it looked like his head was gonna explode. He had no supportive people around or coping skills to deal with it. The old woman just kept yelling and we left.


As a fat guy I’m well aware of sometimes being a clog in some smaller aisles at stores. As a conscientious fat guy I do my best to let people pass by or “appear to let people pass” by contorting my body or just moving away.
One of the banes of my existence are skinny people with giant backpacks. These skinny jerks who have never been aisle cloggers are a goddamned menace. A menace because they don’t realize what kind of aisle clogging assholes they are. You say “excuse me” and they just ignore you. I’m sure they’re thinking “Me, I’m skinny. I could never be in somebody’s way”. The only thing worse is a fat guy with a back pack, it’s a giant orb of inconvenience.