This morning, when told he couldn't drive the Jeep until he was, A. Old enough, and B. Trained to do so, 5YO Nagurski loudly announced, "I'll take my case all the way to the Supreme CORN!"
One of Da-da's two main parenting skills immediately kicked in (one is barf catching, the other is keeping a straight face). Da-da smiled, bit his lip, and said, "Now, won't The Supreme Corn be surprised."
The Supreme Corn himself was unavailable for comment.
It's time for some 2010-inspired art THAT ISN'T TRYING TO SELL YOU SOMETHING. What a concept. Pieces were curated by Bronko and Nagurski, ages 3.5 and 5 YO.
An example of what can be done with Corel Painter 8. Thank you, Paul.
That's a piece by yours truly. The boys picked it out, Da-da didn't.
We break into Da-da's regular nonsensical mirthmaking for an odd one. Turns out NASA has removed an image from their site that shows... well, structures... on Mars. Structures that look like a ski lodge and a bunch of ski condos, which are probably booked this time of year, I'm imagining. Anyway, see for yourself:
[link and video]
The video showcases damning stills and close-ups. Worth a look, esp. if you're a forward-looking real estate agent...
|Flabbergasted at the giftage, Her Majesty then started giggling like a little girl.|
This from today's shocking AcmeVaporware/Illuminati release:
U.S. to Give Itself Back to Britain
AcmeVaporware Advanced Diplomatic Conservation Section and Bavarian Illuminati Reveal 50-year Plan to Place the U.S. Back Under British Rule; Queen Thrilled Beyond Words; U.S. Boxed Up and Re-branded, “The Colonies”
LONDON, UK, December 26, 2010 - In a deal reportedly worth well over
$200 trillion over the next fifty years, The Bavarian Illuminati and AcmeVaporware (AVW) today unveiled a detailed 50-year plan to box up the United States and give it back to Britain before a good-natured Boxing Day crowd of bemused Londoners. Citing all kinds of political power vacuumage, illegal bankster thingies and treasonous utterings of some of its more questionable subjects, AVW/Illuminati diplomatic officials began the process of putting Queen Elizabeth II and the British Government back in the driver's seat of, "The Colonies."
The plan calls for a complete and utter takeover of all levels of the U.S. Government, and promises to bring, "an almost Canadian," level of politeness, common sense and thrift back to Civil Servants, as well as all levels of Corporate America. In return for their unflinching generosity and guile, all AVW/Illuminati executives were secretly knighted, given titles and granted HUGE tracts o' land.
“Actually, because the majority of the land in the U.S. is British-owned anyway -- and Queen Elizabeth II the largest single landowner in the world -- we at AVW/Illuminati Ltd. thought this the next logical step,” said Dr. John Smallberries, former Chairman of AVW and newly minted Earl of Essex, doing donuts in a '52 Black Bentley across the verdant copses of St. Scooby-on-the-Heather. “This is all about infusing some good old fashioned manners -- and plain ol' Imperialistic verve -- back into our existing lifeless political PR showcase. 'Congress: the play we all pay not to see.' Well, not any more!” Dr. Smallberries later distributed knighthoods to fleeing children and clergy at well over 90 miles per hour.
“This is unconstitutional and ridiculous,” said former Vice President Dick Cheney, caught uncomfortably selling nuclear weapons to men in dark suits and glasses. “This is unbelievable and unprecedented. Inania like this is truly reflective of the expectations being placed on our shadow government representatives and how the Internet infrastructure is currently being used to erode our superior way of life by a nameless Netterati terrorist rabble.”
When asked for his reaction to the day's events, President Obama said, "Good," breathed a sigh of relief and went to play hoops.
“We are not precisely sure what Dr. Smallberries intended with this grand gesture, but we are immensely gratified with any gift of this size,” said Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, in a smart tea-colored suit created for the occasion. “We welcome back our estanged colonies with open arms.
Her Majesty's First Royal Colonial Action was to issue an arrest warrant for the entire Bush Administration, along with Sarah Palin, John McCain, Rupert Murdoch and all of Fox News, as well as Roger Goodell, NFL Commissioner (whom the Queen went after, herself, helmet-to-helmet). Her Second Royal Colonial Action forced all members of the Senate to work at a drive-in located in Devonshire (that will only show Peter Fonda movies, the Queen's favorite). Her Third Royal Colonial Action gifted Boston back to Ireland. And Her Fourth Royal Colonial Action renamed Washington, DC, "HOUNDSDITCH."
While most Americans got behind this, Sarah Palin started taking potshots at the Queen for all of thirty seconds before she was clapped in irons and put in the Tower of London, where she'll be responsible for mouth-feeding ravens and working the gift shop for the rest of her life.
|When not killing wolves for fun, Sarah Palin often prepares to welcome visitors|
to the new U.S.-themed Tower of London Gift Shop.
Sure, the chilly clockwork innards are daunting, but Ma-ma's actually quite warm and loving if you get enough 3,4-Methylenedioxymethamphetamine Jell-O into her. Happy jolly, everyone. This holiday fire is smiling just for YOU.
Santa's got a new ride this year. Prepare to beam Geek Da-da some goodwill and cheer. Make it so, Mr. Rudolph.
I locked the door, BUT MY RELATIVES STILL GOT IN.
Happy holidays, everyone, from A Man Called Da-da, A Woman Called Ma-ma, and Two Little Hellions Called Dammit and Jesus Christ.
Hopefully, grampa won't leave his undies in the sink again.
Always stylish and Sting-like, A Man Called Da-da is GREEN, baby. Having made faux trees out of recycled Santa mustaches and green doves and bunnies, young Vlad and Da-da are off to deliver them to poor orphaned
Here's wishing we're all abducted and PROBED this solstice (I so need a good probing). Maybe the aliens can get Bronko and Nagurski to eat their liver and plomeek chili. Anyway, we'll see all of you -- YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE -- at the upcoming UFO show of force over Moscow in January, 2011, and then in London a week later. Not surprising choices, given the ostrichesque state of the U.S. media. We'll also be seeing you at the huge alien landing in December, 2012. Or failing that, a UFO Chili Cook-off. (Da-da would encourage you to enter, but he's already slept with all the judges: that is, with Da-da; Da-da sleeps with himself all the time.)
Additionally, for you loonies, there will be the first and only lunar eclipse for 2010 last night and this morning. The last time Da-da "enjoyed" a lunar eclipse, he fell asleep on the roof and woke up half-frozen. I'd rather kiss a space Santa. Or wait for grunion to run. Luckily, it's raining here. Note: According to Geoff Chester of the US Naval Observatory, "Since Year 1, I can only find one previous instance of an eclipse matching the same calendar date as the solstice, and that is Dec. 21, 1638. Fortunately we won't have to wait 372 years for the next one... that will be on Dec. 21, 2094."
Whatever. Da-da'll be asleep on the roof. With an umbrella. So it goes...
|Da-da (white coat) gets a moon pie from a friendly passerby.|
Being a high-powered mutant hatched atop some Godforsaken roof-of-the-world desert where the wind howls 60 mph every day is kinda fun (in a painful way), and because of this soothing environment, Da-da of course LOVES rain, snow, fog, wind, hail, freezing cold, and really any weather that makes you hang onto something heavy so you don't vanish into the screaming void (which describes parenthood quite well, ahem). Anyway, much to his family's dismay, Da-da is consequently impervious to cold and really any weather except HEAT (heat being Da-da kryptonite).
What Da-da loves most of all are SNOW GAMES. Snowy football games. Football games played IN THE SNOW. Is this clear, yet? Football games (and tailgate parties) played in blizzards, the freezing muck, the ice, the fog, the driving rain, the lava, the toads, pyroclastic flows, etc. Love it.
Indeed, Da-da's not so much of fan of teams (which have fallen to mere BRAND status these days), but of open-air stadiums. If Da-da had endless moolah, he would regularly be seen at outdoor stadiums like Soldier Field, Lambeau Field, Heinz Field, Potter's Field, etc. Old fashioned, raw-knuckled, missing-teeth and -limbs kinda tombstone-y stadiums, where the chill-wind hakken kraks howl so fiercely that you can't feel your -- or anyone else's -- thighs, anymore. The kinda place where you start seriously thinking that it might actually be a good thing to wear a giant fake cheese on your head.
People stop Da-da on the street all the time (esp. the police) and inquire as to why he loves watching snow games so much. Is it simply the love of nasty weather? The festive, snuggly winter triumph of tenacious life over death? No, officer, it's quite simple:
Da-da LOVES to see millionaires suffer.
Watch as they slip and slide, fall down... boom. (Da-da likes to see billionaires suffer, too, but they seem to have the smarts to stay inside, buncha pansies.) Da-da would say his heart goes out to those poor schmoes playing in the elements who make the league minimum ($325k), but that's $325k more than Da-da makes, so they can shiver and bleed and eat snow like the rest. (Truth-be-told, Da-da loves everyone. Everyone is Da-da's brother. He's just a little grumpy. Children do this to you.)
Da-da's beyond old school. He's more stone age school, a snowy schadenfreude that demands all football and baseball and hockey games be played above the arctic circle, surrounded by hungry polar bears and fans on old Russian tanks, the game played endlessly until one team succumbs to either the elements, or the toothy fauna, whichever comes first. The survivors are then frozen till next season, which saves everyone time and money on off-season shenangians.
Da-da's gotta go. It's time for his two-hour soak in the Neva River.
|What? You didn't know Da-da was hot?|
Diatonic Da-da always says, "It doesn't matter what you play, so long as you put some decent air into it and learn the fingerings." Note: some things are harder to play than others.
Now that it's nearly college football bowl season -- and given that Da-da's bloodthirsty young charges, Bronko and Nagurski, are already being scouted at 3 and 5 -- Da-da will venture a brief, fearless, third-person commentary on prayer and football.
You probably don't recall the Supreme Court’s decade-old ruling that prohibited a high school in North Carolina from broadcasting a prayer over the school's stadium PA system immediately prior to a game, as it violated the Constitution’s mandate on the separation of church and state. That’s fine, but has the Supreme Court delved into what’s REALLY going on in the stands? Da-da doubts it.
Basically, both sides -- the tragically in-bred VISITORS and the shining HOME TEAM -- are doing what homo sapiens sapiens have been doing for the past million years or so: praying for carnage and overweening VICTORY, at all costs.
With an eye toward his youngsters' scholarship future (never too early, as they say), Da-da was invited to a college game in the middle of the season between two middleweight schools who just happened to be playing one another. Frankly, even Da-da was SHOCKED at the steaming bloodlust of such educated people (and Da-da's been to lots of Scrabble tourneys) on either side of the gridiron. Observe the prayer of the folks on one side of the field, here quoted in its entirety; Da-da's changed the names of the teams and spiritual advisors to help them avoid embarrassment and prosecution. Take warning that the following contains questionable language, and note that this was the BLESSING on one side of the field, cast from the one-eyed, one-legged, Right Reverend "Hacksaw" Boilermaker himself:
“Please God, let the Tortuga Behemoths beat the HOLY BEJESUS out of those g*ddamn Hamburg Warthogs on this, our night of Holy Redemption and Ultimate Revenge. And Lord, please have their QB Billy Bob Whackenfacker SUCK BIG TIME in the Red Zone, as he has in his last five appearances. Oh... AND COVER THE POINT SPREAD THIS TIME YOU SCUMBAGS!”Such heartfelt sentiments echo about the head- and limb-festooned halls of history. Remember the Crusades? Back then, after sticking your sword in the ground, you knelt and asked your personal Diety for your enemy’s quick demise, THEN you stuck your sword in your enemy. Play ball! It’s still vogue in most armies to check with the Almighty prior to handing your opponent his head on a platter, not to mention enjoying all the later Edenic fruits rightly belonging to the victor’s art of Pillaging Proper. You get all that?
In light of this, Ambrose Bierce once gave the definition of “prayer” as: “Asking that the laws of the Universe be annulled on behalf of a single petitioner confessedly unworthy.” Ambrose had obviously been to a few Home games.
Mix with that the words of venerated Notre Dame football legend Knute Rockne: “Football has been rousing emotions for hundreds of years in a variety of forms, all having in common the idea of whacking a ball from one place to another with varying degrees of violence as the means of propulsion.”
Put the two together and you have a conflict that would take armies to suppress; the franchise rights alone could make you rich beyond your wildest dreams.
Anyway, later that night, after the police cleared the field, Da-da uncovered a copy of the beseeching, visceral prayer to The Big Kahuna from the virtuous chosen ones screaming in the VISITOR bleachers. This from Father Vlad the Impaler:
“Please, Dear Lord, have Our Lady of Blessed Acceleration WHOMP the living CRAP out of those Godless ONE-EYED PIG F*CKERS! KILL THE F*CKING SOCIALIST BASTARDS! DIE DIE!!”Amen. Pass the Manifest Destiny, brother.
This mp3 has limped the circuit for a while, but having sat in way too many holiday horn sections, it always makes Da-da laugh.
Huh. Wonder what's going on here, though note that sometimes a Freudian 7-Up ad is just a Freudian 7-Up ad. Indeed, even as Freud said, "Every hot dog dream is a wish of Freud," he also said that people shouldn't strive to eliminate hot dog complexes, but should instead get into accord with them, as they are legitimately what directs human conduct in a world of big and little wieners. Speaking of that...
...quod erat demonstrandum. (Note: Marthaman wins the Mirthless Smile of the Millennium Award.)
This just in... three huge, fast-moving objects have been detected zooming towards earth, set to arrive around Christmas 2012. Real, or telescope schmutz?
3 Very Large Objects In Space Flying To Earth
E.T. does not need to phone home anymore, someone, or something is on it’s way to earth.
(The Examiner) - SETI Astrophysicist Craig Kasnov has announced the approach to the Earth of 3 very large, very fast moving objects. The length of the "flying saucers" is in the range of tens of kilometers. Landing, according to calculations of scientists, should be in mid-December 2012. Date coincides with the end of the Mayan calendar.
A few very large objects rapidly approaching the Earth - says SETI astrophysicist Craig Kasnov. Don’t take his word for it you can check it out for yourself. He recommends to go to the site http://www.sky-map.org/ and enter the coordinates of the giant UFO:
19 25 12 -89 46 03 - the first large object
16 19 35 -88 43 10 - a cylindrical object
02 26 39 -89 43 13 - the object as a circle
The project participants are assured that the facilities are absolutely real, and the American space agency NASA is trying to conceal important information.
None of these objects can be seen from the northern hemisphere. The second set of numbers in each line tells us that the "object" or "objects" is/are coming in from very deep in the southern hemisphere sky.
In any case, the only thing we can do now - wait for it - says Kasnov. Soon celestial objects will be visible in a good telescope.
Keep your eyes on the skies… the truth is out there.
The truth might be out there, but it sure ain't at NASA. Da-da scoped the three objects' coordinates listed, and... the objects are there, very large and bizarre, kinda like Da-da. Da-da therefore gives the large weird inbound things his full support, esp. as one of them looks like a giant blue phallus. (Looks like Da-da will have to have a little talk with the planet about where little planets come from.) And Da-da can wait to see what certain political whackos do with this -- not to mention DOOMSDAY FOX.
No worries. It's just the Vogon Constructor fleet set to clear Earth out of the way of the new intergalactic superspacehighway.
Like Da-da always tells his boys: fear is as fear does. Just imagine what the stock market will do once the Space Brothers fix all your silly Terran problems. BANG ZOOM.
NOTE: Apparently, the SETI astrophysicist mentioned above doesn't exist, so is the story bogus? AND CAN DA-DA REEEEALLY SEE YOU BEHIND YOUR CLOSED DOOR? Actually, since NASA is trying to debunk this, Da-da's suspicious, as the communal hive-brain in charge of NASA is dumb as a box of dead crabs, and controlled by even bigger dummies who drink pureed mouse in underground bases with grumpy lizards. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
You've heard of the Mancession, o'course. Well, it's true. Now that the U.S. has fallen to the ranks of Second Empire service economy, middle aged men are officially obsolete as women of all ages (and some younger men) are cheaper and better
BUT there is a bright side: a whole new career path in police Santa line-ups! (Hm, which one is Da-da?)
Ok, none of them are Da-da, BUT HE'S JUST AS FOXY. And MAN, Da-da's alien hair transplant worked with a vengeance.
|Foxy Da-da is always foxy. And redundant. And foxy.|
|Airport Security Welcomes YOU!|
Now that the holidays proper have begun, a little comment on airport security. A Man Called Da-da has schlepped through airports all around the world, so he has a good handle on that rarest of animals, PERSPECTIVE. Observe.
In Tel Aviv, airport security is a trained phalanx of college-educated screeners who interview everyone who goes on a plane -- twice. No machines. No meltdowns. Wait times are 30 minutes. They've not had a serious incident in eight years. This is the old way of doing things. And it's cheap.
In Any Airport, USA, airport security involves a fun olio of increasingly expensive, intrusive machines and surly people with high school diplomas (and chips on their shoulders the size of a cadillac). Wait times are high. Meltdowns are high. And they have serious, lawsuit-spawning incidents all the time. This is the new way of doing things. And it's expensive.
In America, we don't believe in people, we believe in MACHINES and MONEY. People are merely consumers. Machines are glorified, and smart people are basically evil and should never be trusted -- unless they're smart MONEY people, and then you should trust them implicitly (they never lie). Indeed, Americans trust machines more than people, and place their lives in control of these machines more and more each day, mainly because of this warped trust issue and the fact that this causes us to keep spending money money money on the military-industrial-entertainment complex.
So you have to think, what kind of example are we making for our children? That we have no civil liberties, and dressing up in military uniforms and being rude is cool? That we have to be afraid all the time and everyone is an enemy (and therefore NOT a friend)? I think even a cursory think on this will show that old ways are often better than new ways, especially when it comes to capital outlays, making and keeping friends. Old human ways are cheaper and often friendlier than new inhuman ways. They're more economical. And they make people happy, what a concept.
So, employ smart, well trained, friendly people (um, we have a lot of smart, trained, friendly UNEMPLOYED people at last check), or deploy "smart" (intrusive, civil rights violating) machines and grumpy people. What could be more simple?
(NOTE: Los Alamos scientists just discovered that TSA scanners are shredding human DNA -- just like small children and brain cells.)
It's official: influenced by the highly successful Turkey Rapture a few weeks ago, at 5:58 am EST, all the world's hams and pigs and slabs of bacon and pork bellies pre-empted the holidays and Raptured themselves into Pig Heaven, where they'll pretty much do the same things pigs have done in the past, except they'll glow a lot more -- and gloat about all the spiritually UNCLEAN ham they Left Behind. Yes, in case of Ham Rapture, your ham will indeed be unhammed.
"This was reported previously," said an anonymous FDA official, "but because of the huge number of pigs, ham, pork bellies and bacon in the world, it took a lot longer to get all that protoplasm transmuted up into Pig Heaven. Think of the logistics." The official added that he's really sad to see bacon go, but that he understood that pigs had a right to spiritual ascendancy, too.
Besides the Christmas tree scene, the dance sequence is still the best part of, "A Charlie Brown Christmas" -- esp. given the obscure nature of the two above numerical characters, namely, "555 95472," or 5 for short (orange shirt on the left) and his twin sisters, "3" and "4" (3 appears above, or is that 4?). His parents are apparently 1 and 2, which means that A Man Called Da-da would probably be #2. Either way, like Da-da's ex-wife, Lucy's still pissed, but has no idea why, and Franklin still can't eat with the honkies.
Da-da's currently listening to the spooky, Masonic Christmas imaginings of the Golddiggers. You can almost FEEL the beige polyester.
So, this has bugged Da-da ever since he was forced to watch, "Empire Strikes Back," 54 times without sound when he worked a speakerless box office at a drive-in back in '81 (ACK, ANCIENT HONKY DA-DA ALERT), but since his FIVE YEAR OLD recently picked this out during a recent viewing...
"Da-da, why are the Stormtroopers always missing?"
Da-da said something nice, of course, about them having a bad day or missing on purpose, but for lack of a better explanation: Stormtroopers suck, son. If they didn't, the plot would grind to a halt, and that right soon. Their marksmanship is horrendous, plastic suits of "armor" useless, organization terrible and in disarray, and horribly prone to cheap Jedi Mind Tricks. Bottom line: Stormtroopers need better training... and man, does their moral suick from watching so many of their brethren choked and fried by the Dark Side.
Which begs the question: why do so many people dress up as stormtroopers when they suck so bad and lose in the end? Are these people nostalgic for fascism? That's as weird as Franklin aced out by whitey. And while Da-da has you, how can any Stormtrooper tell who outranks any other Stormtrooper? They all look alike, save for Lord Vader and his black-clad nasties. Whatever. Like Hewlett-Packard employees, maybe they're telepathic clones.
Well, as The Old Man of the Sci-fi Mountain, Da-da dimly recalls another group whose aim wasn't that good -- but it was a hell of a lot better than Vader's schmoes -- so the below snap could have something to do with Stormtroopers missing badly:
And which came first: the Clones, or the Cylons? And how soon till you hear THIS at an airport near you?