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IT'S DUE TO THE APPLAUSE This is a fucking astounding prospect that you and I are encountering right now! Thank you for reading! I am so grateful to be animated by your eyes. You astound me, and together we can all become our own Clopezi! I have been awarded numerous awards, prizes and distinguishments throughout my heavy-duty illustrious super-career. But nothing has ever meant as much as this moment! We are together, and you have approved and endorsed of my sweeping list of accomplishments. Thank you! I am absolutely convinced that by working together, we can continue to further generate distinguishing marks. We can amplify our list of achievements to stupendous proportions. We can shatter the electronic wall and we can build the bridge to bliss! Everything is beautiful, it is raining sheer ecstatic lullabies onto our shoulders! Our feet are walking in a wonderful rhythm! Our breasts heave in elation and the new comet has appeared! posted by chauncey MY PROVISIONAL BALLOT Don't trust those endorsements from the San Francisco liberals or San Francisco corporatists (they kiss after dinner anyway, don't you know?)!! Take it from me: vote carefully and everyone wins. Consider: Vote with yr bib not yr belly!
Your bartender may deserve a 'tip' - but does he deserve your vote?
Proposition G is complicated. Think long and hard before deciding.
posted by elvis HALLOWEEN YOU RULE
posted by cansafis NO DOCTORS LIVE THURSDAY 11/1 OAKLAND CA
posted by mr. brian TANKERTOWN an comick in 104 installments
posted by elvis WHATEVER IT IS—YES Anything you suggest is OK with me. I want you to be happy. I can cut it all to pieces, I can slowly diminish in volume until I've fully disappeared. I can play charades or transpose myself over temporal boundaries. I can very easily become another. The one thing I can't stand is to see you upset. I've got to give you something. Your emotions are very rich and vibrant, and when you are around me I am swept into your whirlwind. Everything is madness until I solve your problem. Without your mess, I would be a mess. The only way I can get anything is to give it all away. Please reveal your wantings and I will begin to take fire. I will live and dance around your disastrous situation. I will type out tiny little microblogs until my fingers are no longer connected to my hands (if you like.) posted by chauncey LOCAL SCENE The last Friday of the month is a great day to be in San Francisco's Mission District no matter when you cut it, but when it is the Friday before Halloween you know it is on for real. You get serious costumery in addition to the Critical Massers and sterling swath of wild eyed street crazies and dragged out funny men. I began with a delicious stint at the mighty mighty OLD JERUSALEM restaurant, where I was joined by the top-hat dinosaur aka Sir Roommate for plenty of pita, falafel, qodsiah, and baba ganouj. Gorged, gassy, and still frothing at the mouth from a decent wave session at Ocean Beach, we ballyhooed over to the the Old Victoria theater for a night of costume contests, Christian holy grail punk rock, zombie flicks, and one of the most tubetacular movies I have ever seen. Along the way we picked up the dudical STEVEDOOD who was curiously un-Tronned this night. Had he become the black light spectacle d00d would have stood good chance of winning the night's costume contest. But it was clear that tonight, he was just a dude. I on the other hand came dressed as Mel Gibson's The Patriot aka The White Noid. It was comforting to see a fellow Gibson supporter well-Bravehearted in the audience, and from what I was told dude was a guy with the first name "BigWave" which I assume means he swims and surfs the legendary Mavericks waves. Anyways I looked like this:
And later like this:
And I wisely avoided the contest that was decisively won by the most topical costume of the evening: a charred and gored , Malibu Ken and Barbie, fresh from the flames and complete with night-lighted hair. Other costumes of note were some dude as dog (surfers love On winner related a side note: collectors check this out. This band played, and the
highlight of their set was a heckler yelling "eat a dick" and throwing a beer can at
them. Call me Old Man Muppet but heckling still cracks me up (and in my
opinion the mark of a great comic is someone who can take heckling and turn The zombie shorts ruled, and I would link to them if I could find them, but
my main point is that the main event, MY EYES WON'T DRY 2, was the gnarliest
tube riding movie I have ever seen (and admittedly it is the only one I have
ever seen). Here is a preview for it. It's basically an hour of this dude,
Brian Conley, shredding tube waves across the world. Top notch. Camera angles from the board, his helmet, dudes in the water,
people on the shore. It is an excellent example of how to make a movie and
really put the viewer into the action. Lots of reggae on the soundtrack and This was my first time attending surf movie events at the theater, it will not be my last. BYOB, a good mixture of the sexes (definitely not a brostival), and most importantly everyone was having a loud and good time. The movie was great, just the right length, and to top it off it ends with a great gore shot: as though the god wanted Brian to quit filming and start editing, he gets a fin cut to the calf on one of the film's last surfs. He was in attendance at last night's event and still walking on crutches. Anyhow Hat's Off to Aqua (and thanks for the free leash, F'N'A!!) for getting that rad event together. posted by cansafis IT'S GOT TO BE PERFECT It's got to be perfect, folks—one way or another. If it's only pretty good, then it just ain't good enough. I have tried to bend and yield on all the issues but it simply will not any longer be acceptable. I need it to be perfect, every time, on the time. Take the recent impetus for a mega-blog explosion as has been suggested upon these inter-pages—is it a perfect idea? Hell no! What we need to do is form a committee to overlook and double-check the procedure. Once the committee is formed, we submit all propositions likewise. Then we draw up a format and cross-reference it with the others. Now we're getting perfect. Ah yes, I can feel an easing on the mind. Lots of folks try to tell me about feelings and ambitions and cooperation. I say don't even come me near unless it's perfect. First we establish the parameters, then we distribute the decision through the telephone, then we check back with everybody else. Everybody stand up, sit down at the same time. Now it's perfect—just like I'm needing it. Now somebody pass me a deli pickle before I tie up this balloon-poodle! posted by chauncey I CAN STILL REMEMBER THAT OLD GRAY WIND Time is the butter-pad on everyone's plate. Yet when we stop to think about it, what is an era? How does transformation arrive? Last week was like a baseball pitcher from hell. Everyone was shouting “Behold the hooven franchise, as she is slew, and where falls the Dread Bloggenwall, and what price victory?” Now there's murder on the radio but I haven't yet seen that wizardly promise corrupted. Everybody owes himself a victory. We dispense and follow magnets at behest and switch our livestock from friendly to deadly with the green glow of the electric grocer-man. All for the sake of tough-knots. We're too swift to believe it too soon. When the Dread Bloggenmeister opened his eyes a half-open, it opened the sun to start flooding brains with joy, with pearls of laughter, with the blue sunshine that weeps sadness upon men and their women. Hearts are a tough nut to crack, and until that wall crumbles, we all swim in the ocean alone under a blood-eyed sky. The day the picture first appeared I stood up on my chair with pride. We must be faster—sliding through Mercury's hemisphere and talking that blessed old talk of the sailors. This Monday is a different kind of Monday. Don't fool yourself. I took that old slice of butter and scooped it up and slathered it all over my chess-piece. Somebody got to teach Ye ol' Dread Bloggenmeister how to breathe, even if it kills him. In the end, I can't remember anything but that old gray wind. And that folks, is just… The Way It Blogs. posted by chauncey The following is a full transcript of the speech delivered by Senior Union Representative Chauncey Chaumpers to the No Doctors Blogsters Union Local 247 on Thursday, October 25, 2007, via email, directed at Ye ol’ Dread Bloggenmeister himself. I don't give two flying red turds about an old shoe-box full of photos
that Greenagers found in his closet! This is Q4 of 2007! Somebody
wake up and smell the time-bomb! I want it HOT, FRESH, and NOW! What are we serving here anyway? Feel-good salami sandwiches? Light a fire under your ass and smoke it, Bloggenmeister! The competition is crushing us! I want a diamond ring on every finger by Christmas! I want somebody to tell that muffin-headed bunny rabbit that there's a fire in the
outhouse! He's playing jingle bells while there's Russians in the varnish factory! Is
terror-watch the antidote to backbone? Put a sledgehammer on it! Fire everyone and
build me a better robot! I didn't vote for some shell-head to play footsie with a
lopsided parakeet! Can he even mark tallies? Put some vinegar in your pants before I step on you, Bloggenmeister! You've got poker chips where your eyes used to be! I want RESULTS! Light a fire or go back to bed! This sleepy-eyed mop-top charade has gone on long enough! Have you seen the swill that's going around? Eat it and believe it or fight it! Fellow Blogsters: What I'm suggesting is that the role of the Dread Bloggenmeister is to solicit and post
blog, stimulating as necessary. How many emails have circulated through the band this
week; and yet what we have we to show for it; are we any closer to another blog being Ye ol’ Dread Bloggenmeister asks in jest if he should BCC the internets every time someone emails a link about Hillary (D). This is exactly the attitude that has thwarted our blogonomy! Who has emailed links
about Hillary? Wake up from your power-mad snooze and pipe up or step down! Enough is enough! Your constipation has pained us all! Let the bloggers be heard! Ye ol’ Dread Bloggenmeister, you tells us your in-boxx is empty. And so is your head! Pull it out of your ass for once and get this ship in motion! Pull your fleets together before you wake up and find yourself the last doggie on the
poop-deck! How thunderous must the avalanche be before you acknowledge the sorry state of affairs? Fellow Blogsters: End transmission. posted by chauncey BLOGSTERS, BLOGGENMEISTER TO HOLD TALKS SAN FRANCISCO - A coterie of senior No Doctors Blogsters is holding high-level talks with Ye ol’ Dread Bloggenmeister at an undisclosed California location today to try to avert a surge of civil unrest within the band. The Bloggenmeister, who met with Union Representative Chauncey Chaumpers, was proposing measures to disrupt the activities of the militant group, which uses the electronic mail circuit as a safe haven for attacks inside the blogosphere. Outrage had broken out by Thursday morning, however, over whether or not the lynchpin was to be found in an old shoebox recently discovered under Greenagers’ bed. posted by chauncey For too long, members of this band have blogged long and hard under the tyranny of an EIC without the courage to pull the trigger. His brand of conservative blog-editing has not ushered in the golden era we were promised. posted by chauncey TANKERTOWN an comick in 104 installments
posted by elvis PRESIDENTIAL FAECES IN FOECUS
DON’T RUN Who will win posted by cansafis RETURN OF THE CURSE OF THE BOOTLEGGER'S GHOST The irregular bootlegging of the king anti-blog 'anon' author behind the "Findings" page in HARPER'S now carries an extra-enthusiastic recommendation that you subscribe to their fine magazine, as they have now archived their entire fucking catalog online for subscribers. Still so cheap, now super-value size.
posted by elvis TANKERTOWN weekly webly comickly
posted by elvis We finally received our archival copy of this estimable 2006 article in the Schenectady Tribune (or 'the schtrib' as the locals refer to it) promoting our US OUT OF CA tour. Thanks Mr. Terry!
posted by elvis PRESIDENTIAL FAECES IN FOECUS
RUN A gathering dust grows no wings posted by cansafis In a recent investigative trip to England, Chauncey fell upon a certain "Long Man" approach. No comment! posted by elvis TANKERTOWN weekly web comicxks for you, and you
posted by elvis PRESIDENTIAL FAECES IN FOECUS
DON’T RUN With no camera posted by cansafis ORIGIN & TECTONICS, track the last, as it appears: "In An Opal" In an opal,
posted by chauncey TANKERTOWN year two continues, weekly for another 52
posted by elvis PRESIDENTIAL FAECES IN FOECUS
RUN Steven’s picture posted by cansafis |
