Hookers or Cake

Where the self-obsessed get serious about silly
I'm too wacky to be hip.

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    • ------------------------------------- How this blog got its name

      ------------------------------------ There was a large painting of Evel Knievel shaking hands with Richard Nixon. It hung in the Mayors office. Late one evening after everyone went home. I took it down to the lab. I zoomed in on Evel’s left eye a 100x and enhanced it. It was an address. I went to the address. It was a modest, 1970’s style, split level ranch home in the suburbs.

      ----------------------------------- Inside I found a dead parrot lying on a waterbed. I revived the parrot with some saltines and adrenaline. We became good friends. The parrots name was Randy. One night a few years later while Randy and me played Gin Rummy, he sang me a song about a fire. The title of this blog was never mentioned but I sensed it, and Randy confirmed it by giving me ‘THE LOOK’.

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          tell me lies! Submit stuff
          • October 25, 2009 8:10 pm
            anybody got a source for this one? My church is looking for some new stained glass.

            anybody got a source for this one?

            My church is looking for some new stained glass.

          • October 25, 2009 8:00 pm
            (via fashionofthechrist)

            (via )

          • October 25, 2009 5:26 pm

            Orson Welles - excerpt from F is for Fake 75’

            Chartres is pretty awesome if you ever get the chance.

          • October 25, 2009 11:36 am
            “The house is haunted!” yelled some old drunk, pointing at his head, pointing at the sky. We all just kept scurrying on by, off to work. “He’s right ya know.” I half whisper to a little girl, whose riding a pony on the elavator. She just kept smiling, humming her song and offered me a swig of root beer. “Well this is my floor!” she announced and handed me the bottle. The doors opened and she and the pony galloped out into a roaring hail of gunfire. I turned away and the doors closed behind her. Quiet except for the sound of Kenny G sucking for eternity “I wonder if I should buy a new pair of shoes…” I thought aloud, sipping the warm sweet sassparilla. On the next floor a kitten got on and sat opposite of me and stared directly a foot or 2 above my head. “Well hello little kitten!” I chuckled - her gaze was unbroken. We reached the next floor and she padded out into a smartly furnished reception area. The doors closed as I muttered to Kenny G, “I wonder how she pushes the buttons?” “Maybe she doesn’t.” said Kenny G.

            “The house is haunted!”
            yelled some old drunk, pointing at his head, pointing at the sky.

            We all just kept scurrying on by, off to work.
            “He’s right ya know.” I half whisper to a little girl, whose riding a pony on the elavator.
            She just kept smiling, humming her song and offered me a swig of root beer. “Well this is my floor!” she announced and handed me the bottle. The doors opened and she and the pony galloped out into a roaring hail of gunfire.

            I turned away and the doors closed behind her. Quiet except for the sound of Kenny G sucking for eternity
            “I wonder if I should buy a new pair of shoes…” I thought aloud, sipping the warm sweet sassparilla.

            On the next floor a kitten got on and sat opposite of me and stared directly a foot or 2 above my head. “Well hello little kitten!” I chuckled - her gaze was unbroken.
            We reached the next floor and she padded out into a smartly furnished reception area.
            The doors closed as I muttered to Kenny G, “I wonder how she pushes the buttons?”
            “Maybe she doesn’t.” said Kenny G.


          • October 25, 2009 11:24 am
            [Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.] 4 plays

            Big Bad John - Jimmy Dean 1961

            didn’t Josh Groban do a cover of this?

          • October 25, 2009 11:10 am
            oh Ike Turner, you know the shortcut to my heart…

            oh Ike Turner, you know the shortcut to my heart…

          • October 25, 2009 3:21 am
            (via rrrick) fucking rockstars get all the ladies…

            (via )

            fucking rockstars get all the ladies…

          • October 25, 2009 3:00 am
            fashionofthechrist: (via thebeerihadforbreakfast) priceless you said it Hop Sing

            :

            (via )

            priceless

            you said it Hop Sing

          • October 24, 2009 6:18 pm
            I just got a ‘Ass appreciation day’ card from my folks. I this true? Is it Ass Appreciation Day today?

            I just got a ‘Ass appreciation day’ card from my folks. I this true? Is it Ass Appreciation Day today?

          • October 24, 2009 6:12 pm
            rrrick: Tribe of Ukrainian Fighting Women …an unusual and tough group of 150 Ukrainian women who call themselves “Asgarda.” These women live in the Carpathian Mountains and follow a rigorous routine of fighting and boxing, often with medieval weaponry. and my fighter jet is disabled, flying home from a top secret mission and I have to ditch over said mountians. Barely alive the Asgarda band finds me and nurses me back to health… just so they can kick the holy living shit out of me for the rest of my days. I die a crippled yet happy father of 713 children at the age of 68.

            :

            Tribe of Ukrainian Fighting Women

            …an unusual and tough group of 150 Ukrainian women who call themselves “Asgarda.” These women live in the Carpathian Mountains and follow a rigorous routine of fighting and boxing, often with medieval weaponry.

            and my fighter jet is disabled, flying home from a top secret mission and I have to ditch over said mountians. Barely alive the Asgarda band finds me and nurses me back to health… just so they can kick the holy living shit out of me for the rest of my days. I die a crippled yet happy father of 713 children at the age of 68.