"If music be the food of love... veg on!"
Why not a vegetable orchestra?
Showing posts with label Funny. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Funny. Show all posts
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Thursday, October 25, 2007
I is in yur Bibles
If you don't know what LOLcat is, you should. Go here.
If you do know what LOLcat is, you'll be pleased to know that someone (with way too much time on their hands) has started a wiki-style website project to translate the Bible into LOLcat:
If you do know what LOLcat is, you'll be pleased to know that someone (with way too much time on their hands) has started a wiki-style website project to translate the Bible into LOLcat:
1 Oh hai. In teh beginnin Ceiling Cat maded the skiez An da Urf, but he no eated it.
2 Da Urfs no had shapez An haded dark face, An Ceiling Cat rode invisible bike over teh waterz.
3 An Ceiling Cat sayz, i can haz lite? An lite wuz.
4 An Ceiling Cat sawed teh lite, to seez stufs, An splitted teh lite from dark but taht wuz ok cuz kittehs can seez in teh dark An not tripz ovr nethin.
5 An Ceiling Cat sayed light Day An dark no Day. It were FURST!!!1
Monday, September 10, 2007
Nobody is Funnier Than Wavy Gravy
(One from the archives... hard to believe this is almost 20 years ago, from the 1988 campaign against Bush the First)
Wavy Gravy is a soldier of the clowns.
He was recently at a large demonstration at the Lawrence Livermore Laboratory in California, a place where they do much nuclear stuff. He was dressed as a giant bunny, and carried a sign saying “Mutant Bunnies for Peace - Save the Humans.”
And he wore a human foot on a chain around his waist. For luck.
“Now I assure you that police do not want to be photographed busting no mutant bunny,” he notes genially. “It messes with their macho image.”
So he had practically walked in the gate before he was detained.
“So they grab me, and it was then that I whipped out - my ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card.” He pauses. “Laminated.”
He has the impeccable timing of a years-practiced comic. “It’s very important to laminate it first if you want it to be effective.”
(More...)
Well, the cops looked it over, then called in their superior, who called in his superior. Ultimately, the ultimate superior was called in. He scrutinized the laminated card, as all the other police waited breathlessly.
“Well,” said the cop honcho, “this thing’s only good in Contra Costa County....”
“But see,” notes Gravy, “what it did was smash any of that yada-yada energy and it lightened everybody up. I mean, who wants to be blown up by nuclear holocaust? Not even the police. It’s a question of survival.”
Wavy calls his sense of humor his greatest survival weapon. But he also claims he’s not really all that funny.
“It’s the situations that are funny,” he says. “All I do is point.”
As he talks, he is putting on his whiteface - his secret weapon. You see, when the clown puts on his whiteface, he is not putting on a particular face. He is putting on NO face, a blank face; a mirror. He puts on my face, and your face, the face of each person he... entertains. Touches.
“Look,” he is saying, nonverbally, “see, this is you.” We see ourselves, being silly, being vulnerable, and its OK.
With laughter, he breaches our daily defenses and strikes at our hearts with his cream-pie rapier. And we think. And we see. And we understand.
But it requires a delicate balance. Too much whipped cream, and you have nothing but the shallow Barnum and Bailey, clowns without purpose chasing their empty tails, our laughter a hollow practice at the letting down of walls without the consummation of illumination.
And too much of the rapier will wound, injure, cause the hitherto willing victims to recoil in pain, shut the doors, turn from the wounding messenger and spurn - or fail to attend - the message. Lenny Bruce learned this, and it killed him.
Before that, before Bruce unleashed his acid wit on an America that had not yet been Norman Leared, Saturday Night Lived, and MTV’d, Lenny Bruce was Wavy Gravy’s manager.
It is sad, for Bruce could have learned from Wavy, the living master, the consummate balancer: he who walks the line between the hippies and the politicians, between the hog-farms and the police stations.
“I always get arrested as a clown,” he says. “And you know why? You Know WHY?” he says it slowly, like a teacher explaining an important lesson to his students, like a minister imparting a parable of wisdom: “BECAUSE CLOWNS ARE SAFE.”
There have been a lot of long roads for Wavy. His resume reads like... well, like “A certified psychedelic relic,” as he puts it.
He was Born Hugh Romney on May 15, 1936 in East Greenbush, right outside of Albany, NY. He lived in Albany for almost two decades.
Then, “A hundred million years later,” Wavy Gravy was born: He was one of Ken Kesey’s original Merry Pranksters; he M.C.’d at Woodstock; he took a busload of hippies from Paris to Nepal.
And he got involved in politics. His street-theater group worked for Lyndon Johnson’s Campaign in 1964, “because Goldwater was going to start dropping atom bombs.” But when Johnson escalated the war in Vietnam, Wavy lost faith in politicians.
In ‘68 he ran a pig for President: Pigassus. “She was the first female black-and-white candidate for president,” he recalls proudly.
Wavy believes that in any year, “none of the above” should be an option on the ballot. After all, even in Chile they get to vote ‘no’.
“In the old days,” he recalls, “we used to register and write-in for Nobody. The concept was ‘Write in, right on, write off.’ This time we’re telling people to keep the spirit alive in their heart, but register and vote to lick Bush.”
And to help keep the spirit alive, Nobody is running again.
Wavy has hit the road on his fourth quadrennial “Nobody for President” tour, which will bring him to the Iron Horse in
Northhampton tonight. Wavy would never run for President himself, although he points out that with his years of campaigning, he’s at least as qualified as Dan Quail.
“I just work for Nobody. I’m Nobody’s fool. This is the fourth time that Nobody’s run. We were going to run a Piano in ‘88. But when Jesse Jackson threw in the towel... we have these plastic talking teeth that we use for Nobody’s speeches, and they started clicking of their own volition. It was scary - all the hairs on my arm leaped to attention. And I knew it was time.”
He points out that when you look at the issues, Nobody comes out looking magnificent:
“Look,” says Wavy, a sardonic smile on his lined and lumpy face. “I firmly believe that Nobody should have that much power. I want Nobody to run my life. And if Nobody wins - Nobody loses....”
Which just goes to show that Nobody is funnier than Wavy Gravy.
Wavy Gravy is a soldier of the clowns. He was recently at a large demonstration at the Lawrence Livermore Laboratory in California, a place where they do much nuclear stuff. He was dressed as a giant bunny, and carried a sign saying “Mutant Bunnies for Peace - Save the Humans.”
And he wore a human foot on a chain around his waist. For luck.
“Now I assure you that police do not want to be photographed busting no mutant bunny,” he notes genially. “It messes with their macho image.”
So he had practically walked in the gate before he was detained.
“So they grab me, and it was then that I whipped out - my ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card.” He pauses. “Laminated.”
He has the impeccable timing of a years-practiced comic. “It’s very important to laminate it first if you want it to be effective.”
(More...)
Well, the cops looked it over, then called in their superior, who called in his superior. Ultimately, the ultimate superior was called in. He scrutinized the laminated card, as all the other police waited breathlessly.
“Well,” said the cop honcho, “this thing’s only good in Contra Costa County....”
“But see,” notes Gravy, “what it did was smash any of that yada-yada energy and it lightened everybody up. I mean, who wants to be blown up by nuclear holocaust? Not even the police. It’s a question of survival.”
Wavy calls his sense of humor his greatest survival weapon. But he also claims he’s not really all that funny.
“It’s the situations that are funny,” he says. “All I do is point.”
As he talks, he is putting on his whiteface - his secret weapon. You see, when the clown puts on his whiteface, he is not putting on a particular face. He is putting on NO face, a blank face; a mirror. He puts on my face, and your face, the face of each person he... entertains. Touches.
“Look,” he is saying, nonverbally, “see, this is you.” We see ourselves, being silly, being vulnerable, and its OK.
With laughter, he breaches our daily defenses and strikes at our hearts with his cream-pie rapier. And we think. And we see. And we understand.
But it requires a delicate balance. Too much whipped cream, and you have nothing but the shallow Barnum and Bailey, clowns without purpose chasing their empty tails, our laughter a hollow practice at the letting down of walls without the consummation of illumination.
And too much of the rapier will wound, injure, cause the hitherto willing victims to recoil in pain, shut the doors, turn from the wounding messenger and spurn - or fail to attend - the message. Lenny Bruce learned this, and it killed him.
Before that, before Bruce unleashed his acid wit on an America that had not yet been Norman Leared, Saturday Night Lived, and MTV’d, Lenny Bruce was Wavy Gravy’s manager.
It is sad, for Bruce could have learned from Wavy, the living master, the consummate balancer: he who walks the line between the hippies and the politicians, between the hog-farms and the police stations.
“I always get arrested as a clown,” he says. “And you know why? You Know WHY?” he says it slowly, like a teacher explaining an important lesson to his students, like a minister imparting a parable of wisdom: “BECAUSE CLOWNS ARE SAFE.”
There have been a lot of long roads for Wavy. His resume reads like... well, like “A certified psychedelic relic,” as he puts it.
He was Born Hugh Romney on May 15, 1936 in East Greenbush, right outside of Albany, NY. He lived in Albany for almost two decades.
Then, “A hundred million years later,” Wavy Gravy was born: He was one of Ken Kesey’s original Merry Pranksters; he M.C.’d at Woodstock; he took a busload of hippies from Paris to Nepal.
And he got involved in politics. His street-theater group worked for Lyndon Johnson’s Campaign in 1964, “because Goldwater was going to start dropping atom bombs.” But when Johnson escalated the war in Vietnam, Wavy lost faith in politicians.
In ‘68 he ran a pig for President: Pigassus. “She was the first female black-and-white candidate for president,” he recalls proudly.
Wavy believes that in any year, “none of the above” should be an option on the ballot. After all, even in Chile they get to vote ‘no’.
“In the old days,” he recalls, “we used to register and write-in for Nobody. The concept was ‘Write in, right on, write off.’ This time we’re telling people to keep the spirit alive in their heart, but register and vote to lick Bush.”
And to help keep the spirit alive, Nobody is running again.
Wavy has hit the road on his fourth quadrennial “Nobody for President” tour, which will bring him to the Iron Horse in
Northhampton tonight. Wavy would never run for President himself, although he points out that with his years of campaigning, he’s at least as qualified as Dan Quail.
“I just work for Nobody. I’m Nobody’s fool. This is the fourth time that Nobody’s run. We were going to run a Piano in ‘88. But when Jesse Jackson threw in the towel... we have these plastic talking teeth that we use for Nobody’s speeches, and they started clicking of their own volition. It was scary - all the hairs on my arm leaped to attention. And I knew it was time.”
He points out that when you look at the issues, Nobody comes out looking magnificent:
- First of all, Nobody totally understands the economy.
- Nobody’s freed the hostages, Nobody knows what to do with radioactive waste, Nobody’s lowered your taxes, Nobody’s in Washington right now working for me and you.
- Nobody keeps all his campaign promises.
- Nobody always tells the truth.
- In fact - Nobody’s perfect!
- And Nobody works for nothing.
- Nobody bakes apple pie better than mom.
- Nobody knows you when you’re down and out.
“Look,” says Wavy, a sardonic smile on his lined and lumpy face. “I firmly believe that Nobody should have that much power. I want Nobody to run my life. And if Nobody wins - Nobody loses....”
Which just goes to show that Nobody is funnier than Wavy Gravy.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
On a lighter note....
Brilliant.
He who knows and knows that he knows is a Teacher. Learn from him.
He who knows not and knows that he knows not is a student. Teach him.
He who knows not and knows not that he knows not is a menace. Avoid him.
He who knows and knows not that he knows is our Attorney General. Impeach him.
He who knows and knows that he knows is a Teacher. Learn from him.
He who knows not and knows that he knows not is a student. Teach him.
He who knows not and knows not that he knows not is a menace. Avoid him.
He who knows and knows not that he knows is our Attorney General. Impeach him.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Someone - buy me dinner with Joe Wilson and Valerie Plame!
Oooh, I like this...
The Robert Kennedy Foundation is holding its celebrity auction, with bidding to close on April 6th.
Plamegate junkie that I am, my favorite would have to be dinner with Joe Wilson and Valerie Plame. Any generous souls out there feel like buying it for me - or Marcy Wheeler? As of this writing, the bid is at $2,650.
There's a bunch of fun stuff up, all to raise money for the Foundation's charitable activities....
You could have a walk-on role in the next Farrely Bros. movie; current bidding there is $4,250. That would be cool....
Or how about a set visit to Boston Legal and a cigar with Legal eagle William Shatner? Boldly puff for just $5,500...
The one I just don't get: breakfast or tea with Alan Greenspan and Andrea Mitchell. Even if the dude was head of the Fed all those years... chilling with him might be worth $45,000, but not if you have to put up with HER as well...
The Robert Kennedy Foundation is holding its celebrity auction, with bidding to close on April 6th.
Plamegate junkie that I am, my favorite would have to be dinner with Joe Wilson and Valerie Plame. Any generous souls out there feel like buying it for me - or Marcy Wheeler? As of this writing, the bid is at $2,650.
There's a bunch of fun stuff up, all to raise money for the Foundation's charitable activities....
You could have a walk-on role in the next Farrely Bros. movie; current bidding there is $4,250. That would be cool....
Or how about a set visit to Boston Legal and a cigar with Legal eagle William Shatner? Boldly puff for just $5,500...
The one I just don't get: breakfast or tea with Alan Greenspan and Andrea Mitchell. Even if the dude was head of the Fed all those years... chilling with him might be worth $45,000, but not if you have to put up with HER as well...
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