Krofft Supershow, 1976. With shit like this on Saturday mornings, it's no wonder kids in the 70s turned to drugs.

Hey it's me, Kaptain Kool and the Kongs! Super Chick. Turkey. Nashville. And Flatbush. And the boy howdiest show on earth--The Krofft Supershow! Starring Wonderbug, Dr. Shrinker and Electra Woman & Dyna Girl.

Kathy Ireland: Hotter Than Hell, 1984

Dry and Clear Acne Medication, 1977

Fuck you Proactiv! This shit has Exfoliator N-12 and only takes five days to work!

Vintage Ad #96: Mamiya/Sekor DTL Camera, 1973

Good camera. Bad photoshop.

The Star Wars Holiday Special

No you’re not hallucinating (uh, unless you’re zooming on acid, pink ladies or tainted fish larva, then yeah, you might be), but what you are seeing is a condensed version of the 1978 Star Wars Holiday Special. Two hours of this crap exists. You don’t want to see it. George Lucas would rather it disappeared forever. Chewbacca's family? Bea fucking Arthur? Jefferson fucking Starship? What the hell is happening here?

The following handwritten letter was found crumpled up on the snow-encrusted marble steps of McKinley Hall:

Dear Lisa,

Can you believe that our lowly serf bitch housemaid from Southern Ecuador had the smug know-it-all gall to call me, me—the biggest pompous goddess of immodest ego—a stuck-up and conceited primadonna? Who does that inconsequential peon think she is compared to my regal status as queen of swelled-head self-importance? Hey did you clear your throat mucus into my moisture-wicking workout socks again? It’s either that or my inside-out cat finally emptied his digestive sack after weeks of storing up prescription strength fish chum cat dinners in his intestines. Just realized Christmas is on for December 25th again. It’s like so confusing every year. Say that reminds me, can complex math formulas be used as analogies for physical determinism?

This is the month with New Years eve, right?

Kristin

Song of the Day:

Japanty, “Koi no hareruya”

Dial-A-God

That's right--I like my spiritual advisors to drive Hondas.

Vintage Ad #19: Black Velvet Whisky, 1974

Star Crash, 1979. Obviously nothing like Star Wars.

This space fart of a movie is so bad, you’ll be hard-pressed to finish watching the trailer. Observe the Star Wars-like theme music, gratuitous use of lightsabers and talk of a "weapon so vast, so huge, that it would take a whole planet to conceal it.” Um, you mean like a Death Star?

Vintage Ad #75: TDK Cassettes, 1980

The Cult "Love Removal Machine" 1987

Ian Astbury: A modern day Jim Morrison reincarnated on Whistle Test.

RIP Evel Knievel

It was December 31, 1967. As an insane publicity stunt, Evel Knievel had the gall and balls to attempt to jump a heavy Harley over the expanse Caesar’s Palace fountains. After losing a $100 roulette bet and downing a shot of whiskey, Evel Knievel got on his motorcycle, ran a few laps around the large ramps and packed audience until finally revving up and taking off.

His slow-motion crash landing is stuff of legend. Flipping backwards over the handlebars, he smacked the pavement so hard, it split his pelvis in pieces. Like a rag doll, Knievel rolled over and over; his jumpsuit becoming a bag of bones and twisted organs. He only came to rest when finally impacting the cement wall that circled the parking lot.

He was in a coma for a month. When he woke up, he was an American hero. He went on to sell millions of stunt cycle toys and he was a huge hit on ABCs Wide World of Sports. Evel was an outspoken critic about recreational drugs, yet behind the scenes he was a raging alcoholic and infamous womanizer. Still, he was fair—even if he knew he wasn’t going to make a jump, he was going to damn well try anyway because folks spent their hard-earned money to see him risk death.

You wouldn’t see riders flipping light dirt bikes on Extreme Games if not for Robert Craig ‘Evel’ Knievel. My heart goes out to the Knievel family. Imagine the immense escalating tension that family must’ve felt before each gut-wrenching jump year after year. Did I mention Knievel wrote gold-plated checks? That way, no one would cash them. They’d be souvenirs. Which doubled in value today.

Whew, Cheney's Heart Restored to Normal Rhythm.

Happy Thanksgiving: White meat, dark meat, all will be carved.

Hawkwind 1972: "Silver Machine"

Turn on, tune in, drop out. Just think: Lemmy Kilmister was actually kicked out of this band for doing too many drugs. Soon after he formed Motorhead. Eat the Rich, indeed.

The following handwritten letter was discovered this evening crumpled up on the windswept grounds of McKinley Hall:

Dear Lisa,

I had a big problem doing laundry after eating a greasy, but delicious family bucket of KFC. Who knew it’s a bad idea to replace fabric softener with a powerful stool softener? Real shame too because when I decided to wash your favorite goose down comforter I apparently mixed up the directions. On the bright side, my colon is doing just fantastic. And wouldn’t you know it, but when I washed your sheets the same thing happened again. Sorry. Gotta say my ass feels so great, that when I walk it feels like I’m totally sitting on a couch. Did I mention I’ve got a good read on catching some hot black market Tom Brady sperm? I’m freezing those puppies until I’m ready for my patriot act.

I’m also redecorating my vag with shorter meat curtains,

Kristin

Song of the Day:

Pittsburgh Slim, “Girls Kiss Girls”

Vintage Ad #53: The Fifth Season Jumpsuit, 1976

Roadie (1980): Another crap ass film that time forgot.

Vintage Ad #22 Marantz Stereo, 1976

That's right, I like my stereo to kick the shit out of all the other stereos.

Soul Truth: Mr. Fucking Dynamite: James Brown. A Man and His Band.

WHAT SORT OF MAN READS PACO CAMINO?

He’s a jet setting fashion photographer that gets paid a ludicrous amount of money to travel the world taking pictures of the hottest chicks in the latest designer outfits. Maybe because he wears fitted denim, the Paco Camino Man has an endless stream of horny models begging to crash with him after the shoot. Perhaps it’s the intriguing designer knit ascot, wide-collared psychedelic print rayon shirt, or the wild stallion belt buckle, but the Paco Camino man always seems to capture the all-important money shot under deadline. Totally in danger of spontaneously combusting from a Spinal Tap-type coolness, legend would have it that he’s obviously hung like his estranged uncle who still travels the country in the sweetest custom van ever. “Ass, grass, or gas, no one rides for free.” Words to live by indeed, Paco Camino Man.

The following handwritten letter was recently discovered on the leaf-strewn marble steps of McKinley Hall:

Dear Lisa,

Is it possible to walk, chew gum, burp, fart and sneeze at the same time? How about taking out sticky contact lenses after a week of binge drinking while sitting on the john trying in vain to squelch a case of uncontrollable taco bell shits all the while hiccupping every sixteen seconds? Hey, I suppose since you installed motion detectors in your room and unpickable locks on your dresser, that you probably don’t want me rifling through your underwear drawer anymore high on PCP. I get it. That’s cool. I’m voting for Hillary next year—how awesome would first husband George be throwing late-night P-Funk parties at the White House?

Is there any way to tell if you’ve accidentally peeled off your corneas?

Kristin

Song of the Day:

Peanut Butter Wolf, “Umbrellas”

The Fantastic Four 1967: Menace of the Mole Man

Oh Mole Man, when will you ever learn the Fantastic Four will never be defeated?

No more days 'till Halloween

Vintage Ad #32: Roman Brio After Shave, 1974

Think about it. That's right, just think about it.

Oh the shame of lingering household odors

Hey! Son of a Gun! It's Refreshment Time!

Or maybe it's high time the acid kicked in. Melting sticks of butter, gum drop fruit beards, candy cane tongues, and cosmic cows from outer space that magically turn into hamburgers. The smiley mouth with the front yellow pot tooth. French fries. Black Santa ice cream and falling hot dogs. Damn, I gotta freaking quit sniffing glue.

WHAT SORT OF MAN READS PACO CAMINO?

Take Off…On a Completely Unique Experience! The Paco Camino Man drinks a fuckload of beer and keeps mountains of Colt 45 talls plentifully stocked in his elevated mushroom house located above the Cliffs of Dover. Casually commandeering, the Paco Camino Man also prefers his mushroom house sex groupies to wear outlandish space outfits complete with silver boots, metallic shoulder shields and clear plexiglas helmet globes. Don’t worry though; they’ll be coming off when the pretty ladies adjust to his groinal area pressure changes, girthonal longitude and atmospheric increases. No problem here, Houston. The Paco Camino Man: Partnering with Colt 45 in exchange for Colt 45. It's out of this world.

Vampyros Lesbos, 1969

Music: "The Lions and the Cucumber," Manfred & Siegfried Schwab

The following handwritten letter was found crumpled on the windswept marble steps of McKinley Hall:

Dear Lisa,

So I hear Ellen DeGeneres is the new Michael Vick. Boy, that bitch really has some nerve finding a loving home for a stray dog adopted from an animal shelter. Hey my willy-nilly exchange returns are in, and it seems I’m substituting haphazard variances of differentiating discrepancies with alternating inconsistent mutations that morph randomly. At least I’m elated my bipolar condition is suddenly making me sad, but then blam, instantly, I’m like totally happy again and hmm, that’s weird, but now I’m so depressed. Hey have you ever had a tattoo peel off? Or a toenail fungus so rank, it infected your teeth? Suppose I should replace my nail clippers, huh?

Confusion is hard,

Kristin

Song of the Day:
“Chick Habit,” April March

PACO CAMINO TEQUILA!

The Naughty Stewardesses, 1975

"The Naughty Stewardesses--they're sweet, but know the score. The lovingest group of oversexed and undersatisfied females who ever graced any runway. Jane does it for kicks, Debbie does it for love, Margie does it for money, and Barbara does it for fun. They're the naughty stewardesses and they're flying your way now. Fly first class with the naughty stewardesses, the cutest, curviest, most caressable hostesses who will ever take care of you."

Vintage Ad #103: The Herbal Encounter, 1975

A most civilized shave. An uncivilized fragrance.

Scouring the globe to bring you the stupidest shit ever.

What in the name of Apu is going on here? Is this a rockin' Indian dance party hosted by John Matuszak of the 70's Oakland Raiders? Anyway, the dude with the shades sporting the fro and gold boots got moves like you've never dreamed of—keep an eye out for his badass backwards leap up to the top of the staircase. Oh yeah.

WHAT SORT OF MAN READS PACO CAMINO?

How many private planes do you own? The Paco Camino Man not only keeps several on stand by at his secluded mansion, but he’s also licensed to thrill aeronautically with top gun cockpit clearance to fly erogenous zones. Sporting perfectly windswept daredevilish hair, gold-rimmed, amber-tinted aviator sunglasses, and a daring, melon-colored wide lapel rayon sport shirt bursting from his formfitting tweed jacket, the Paco Camino Man is an experienced pioneer of the mile high club. Attracting sensual, wing-on-a-prayer birds of a feather, the Paco Camino Man only asks you keep the landing strip clear of debris, but still carpeted and well lit. Because the sky’s the limit when you’re flying high with Paco Camino baby.

The following handwritten letter was found crumpled on the autumn-baked marble steps of McKinley Hall:

Dear Lisa,

Is it possible that square block chunks of time might seem more like boxed clock-recorded cubes instead? I mean, couldn’t six weeks, four days, and 36 hours almost kind of seem sort of like five weeks, six days, and 53 hours on any third Sunday after a daylight savings time change following a holiday weekend on a leap year? Or maybe not. Oh yeah, I discovered that the foul odor emanating from the basement is from my flip-flops. It wasn’t a corpse after all. Don’t handle or lick them, as I understand they are totally fungally lethal. Good news though--my nuclear crotch-rot has been downgraded by the EPA and upheld by a district court judge, so you’re welcome to borrow any of my thongs again,

Kristin

Song of the Day:
Northern State, “Away Away”

Vintage Ad #93: Dingo Boots, 1978

O.J's third leg has always gotten him in trouble.

The Man's all legs and knows everything about feet. Listen: "Boots have to look great--but they also have to be made for whatever you're going to doing in them. That's why, when you say boots, you gotta say Dingo." Thanks, O.J. We make our insides be as cool as our outsides by using nothing but the best materials and nothing but the best bootmakers to put it all together. Like O.J. Simpson, we mean what we say, and what we say is: Nobody Puts Leather Together Like Dingo.

What's more disturbing: Poison covering "SexyBack" or the sight of these depraved stuffed animals getting their freak on?

Answer: It's equally upsetting, but looking at stuffed animals will never really be the same again. I shudder to think that Tisdale, my beloved childhood teddy bear was bumping uglies with Mr. Tootie, a horny stuffed duck I won at a fireman's carnival.

Vintage Ad #23: Spalding Rubber Basketballs, 1977

If you want the ball with the sure-handed feel, look for our signatures at your sporting goods dealer. Other autograph balls are signed by Wilt Chamberlain, 'Pistol Pete' and 'Ernie D.'

The cure for the blues

Beaker sings a woefully underappreciated version of “Feelings.”

Stardog Champion

R.I.P. Martha

The Internet as imagined in 1969

The Internet In 1969 - Watch more free videos

Jesus Christ, did Bruce Willis make a Banjo Party album? Sure as hell looks like him.

Frank Ovanin my ass. That's freaking Bruce Willis. Bullshit or Not?

The following handwritten letter was found crumpled on the unseasonably warm marble steps of McKinley Hall:

Dear Lisa,

I had a word problem antacid trip about a train carrying Queens of the Stone Age leaving Chicago sometime yesterday and heading southwest at 93 MPH, while another train departing with Rage Against The Machine left New York traveling 87 MPH sometime the following Thursday in a northeast-ish direction. Winning a free bucket of variety chicken from Clucko’s, I determined the trains would intersect if operated by US American conductors who went to school in South Carolina and the Iraq, such as, and like had no maps. Funny, but after reprogramming my iPhone as a potentiometer measuring electromotive forces, which are of course, negated by variable resistances crossing through established currents, I found that it works perfectly great as a vibrating multimedia sex toy.

Hey does your pee smell suddenly like urine?

Kristin

Song of the Day:
Fairmount Girls, “Sinkin’ In”

Vintage Ad #17: Tipalet flavored cigarettes, 1970

"Hit her with tangy Tipalet Cherry. Or rich, grape-y Tipalet Burgundy. Or luscious Tipalet Blueberry. It's wild! Tipalet. It's new. Different. Delicious in taste and in aroma. A puff in her direction and she'll follow you, anywhere. Oh yes...you get smoking satisfaction without inhaling smoke. Smokers of America, do yourself a flavor. Make your next cigarette a Tipalet."

Stop the bullets. Kill the gun

Nike. Back in the Day.

Forget Nike shox or Nike iPod. We're talking old skool kicks. And a lot more facial hair.

Drum War! Buddy Rich vs. Animal!

Animal can only scream in open-mouthed horror as he poops out early getting stick-whipped by legendary human drummer Buddy Rich.

Vintage Ad # 45: Oshkosh B'gosh, 1973

Players Choice Couple: Suddenly busted for stumbling in with an empty wine bottle and carrying his shoes (no time to untie them I see).

"It was one warm July night—rather, morning—about five a.m. in one of them newfangled swingers apartment buildings uptown midtown. Harvy Jones had moved there due to the persistent urgings of his wife, Vikki, who wanted to live the glamorous and stylish life she imagined all young swinging couples lived—the best of everything, food, cars, bad pads, furs, rings and things, etc."

Ten bucks says this ends badly.

Vintage Ad #71: Cruex Jock Itch Powder, 1977

Chafing? Rash? Groin irritation? Any man can get them, especially if you’re active and work up a sweat. That’s why you need Cruex, the medicated powder that gives you fast, soothing relief, plus special medication that fights the causes of Jock Itch. Cruex, the product made specifically for Jock Itch and other groin irritations.

Ex-Catholic or Cathoholic

LIGHT CRITICISM

The following handwritten letter was found tonight, crumpled up on the marble steps of McKinley Hall:

Dear Lisa,

I realize the recently released reality show realigning reciprocal real estate realtors is really recalcitrant and reasonably ridiculous. Damn, I bit my tongue when I wrote that just now. With my pen I mean. I mean my teeth bit my tongue. Not my pen of course, because it’s like totally inanimate—unless you’ve got one of those new biting pens, then you'll wanna keep it away from your mouth and when buffing the ‘ol round mound (ouch!). Say, how’s your unsightly back acne? I’ll rub you down with Clearasil again if you want. Let me know because I’m like, so busy pretending to fake my way through imaginary hypothetical situations as an invisible deaf mute. Well, only theoretically of course.

You’ll never believe where I got a whiffle ball stuck,

Kristin


Song of the Day:

Issac Hayes, “Hyperbolicsllabicsesquedalymistic”

The Van Halen Boys Ain't Talkin' 'Bout Love

It’s on! The Van Halen reunion tour with David Lee Roth is finally on! I’ve only been waiting for this since May 18, 1981 when a Roth-led Van Halen played my hometown of Rochester, NY. However I was far too young to attend a concert since my parents were firm believers that such ear-splitting devil music was an "audile gateway drug to Satan’s cauldron of rock and roll hell." Whatever that's supposed to mean.

Van Halen also played Buffalo’s Auditorium 7-31-81, The Carrier Dome in Syracuse 10-9-82, and the "Aud" again on 3-22-84. Ancient Van Halen fans might remember the original lineup destroying Manley Fieldhouse in Syracuse, NY on 5-17-79 and again the next night in Rochester, NY at the War Memorial.

But wait, “Didn’t they play here in 1980?” Well, yes they did. Pat yourself on the back because you didn’t burn that brain cell after probably chugging a dozen Schlitz talls and puffing pounds of pre-show pot in the parking lot.

Anyway, just a week after David Lee Roth was charged with a misdemeanor in Cincinnati “For complicity in inciting others to violate the fire code,” Van Halen played the Buffalo Memorial Aud on May 5, 1980 (which now sits empty and is sadly scheduled for demolition) and the next night in Rochester at the War Memorial (now the Blue Cross Arena).

Oh yeah. The photo up top there. It’s circa-1959 Amsterdam. That’s Alexander Arthur Van Halen on the left eating a cookie and playing a xylophone and Edward Lodewijk Van Halen on the right taking over drums from his brother.

A decade and a half later, Eddie Van Halen would turn the guitar world on it’s ear after forming the greatest party band of all time in Pasadena, California with a cocky playboy singer named David Roth. And don't forget that Alex's powerhouse drumming totally kicked ass too.

WHAT SORT OF MAN READS PACO CAMINO?

A game player who just happened to wander into a ritzy downtown hangout on ladies night, he’s a backgammon wolf in sheep’s clothing who knows how to score. Sporting feathered hair and studly sideburns that the chicks dig, he’s got threads so he hot, he’ll still be rocking forty years from now when blousy earth-toned henna-patterned silk shirts come back in style. “Say, how’d you ladies like to come back to my place for some drinks? We could put some Mancini on the stereo and maybe smoke a joint in the Jacuzzi.” Hey love gambler---go ahead and roll the dice because you’re reading Paco Camino.

The following handwritten letter was recently discovered on the sun-drenched marble steps of McKinley Hall:

Dear Lisa,

This summer camp sucks big-time ass! My drawing class is sketchy at best and I caught my chewing professor feverishly masticating at lunch. Say at what point do you stop using rectal thermometers as novelty drink stirrers? My gut says when spicy tacos attack, but my ass says “Gut, goddamit--I get all your shit and I’m fucking sick of it! Why don’t we send some processed cheese the other way out for once?” Hmm, this might sound crazy, but maybe I've been hallucinating on toxic pine bark laced with bad-grade heroin which I've been unkowingly burning as incense at my exclusive kick-ass crochet house parties.

Dog fighting is bad, but after-hours cat juggling and fish-teasing is just horrific,

Kristin

Song of the Day:

Van Halen “Act Like It Hurts” demo

It's Called Gettin' Down in the 25th Century

Horny Space Princess: What are you doing?
Buck Rogers: It's called gettin' down. It's a little before your time if it frightens you.
Horny Space Princess: Nothing frightens me!
Buck Rogers: Alright fine then get down and boogie.

The following handwritten letter was recently discovered crumpled up on the steps of McKinley Hall:

Dear Lisa,

I put my mad acting skills on full display when I groped my way through the Ironic Contradiction TV Convention as a blind sober seeing alcoholic astronaut discharged from NASA because I claimed a well meaning, but over anxious genie lived with me at my house in the 60’s. It was touchy feely until I was manhandled by a woman wearing kid gloves. Hey how many times a week do you shave your feet? The tops of my toes look like thick pube mustaches and that fiery rash between my boobs has quickly spread to my armpits. Oh yeah, I’ve been using your deodorant the past couple of days since my deodorant ran out a couple days ago and wearing your sport bras and putting them back in your drawer without washing them.

Don’t worry you can share my calamine lotion,

Kristin

Song of the Day:

“How I Feel” Wax Tailor

Flight of the Conchords, "Bowie Song"

Natural blues

seeing christina ricci as a gyrating angel ontop of a tv set is titillating. this is one of moby's magnum opus.

Celebrate Freedom with Schlitz Malt Liquor

The following handwritten letter was found crumpled near the sunny steps of McKinley Hall:

Dear Lisa,

Soccer has been a blast except for our goddamn narcoleptic goalkeeper who keeps falling asleep on corner kicks, free kicks and shootouts. Otherwise she’s fucking awesome! I too know what it’s like to have a crippling disease since contracting conjunctive gingivitis from cat yodeling in the back alleys of New York City. If only I was wearing an IUD this could’ve been prevented. Identification: Underage Dentistry medical tags of course. What were you thinking? Hey my therapist says I need to start stopping my starting stop start-up post haste. Yeah, I gotta get going on that. Hey I can’t wait to get stupid at the moronic imbecile-a-thon for dumb retarded idiots and assholic dipshits.

When I stand next to dumpsters you can barely smell my trench mouth,

Kristin


Song of the Day:

Z-Trip, “Immigrant Noise RMX”

Vintage Ad: Jockey Fashion Underwear

Vintage Ad #62: The night belongs to Charger.

Vintage Ad #33 - Shirt Men

Vintage Ad #33 - Shirt Men, originally uploaded by jbcurio.

Make Love Not War

Oh, excuse me Ricky. Ricky, I did see what you were doing. It felt good didn’t it? It’s all right; we all have feelings like this sometimes. I’m just glad you’re doing this in the privacy of your own room. When you’re a little bit older we’ll have to talk more about these feelings and what causes them, and how we can control these feelings. I’m sorry I intruded on your privacy. I’ll be sure to knock next time. Okay?

History of the word Fuck

end of ze world

brought to you by my 22 yr old friend. Happy Birthday Ivanka! (real identity shall remain confidential)

The following handwritten letter was recently discovered on the sun-drenched marble steps of McKinley Hall:

Dear Lisa,

Good news! My land swimming training program is a real splash. Course my neighbors think I’m all wet walking around on dry pavement wearing goggles and paddling my arms through the air. Hey that sandpaper vibrator Ty Pennington gave you really rubbed me the wrong way, but surprisingly it worked wonders smoothing the surface of my wooden dildo sculptures. Funny, maybe that’s why I found it in stashed in your toolbox and not the back of your nightstand with all your other fun zone appliances. Oh yeah, did I mention I might’ve accidentally ruined your clothes when I mistakenly threw them all out on the lawn and unintentionally watered them with a garden hose? Don’t worry though-- I’m still expecting a free $25 Macy’s gift card just for clicking a myspace banner ad and simply entering my social security number!

Heavy ass weightlessness is wreaking havoc on my gravitational pull,

Kristin

Song of the Day:
Van Halen "You're No Good" live 1979

I've been in a coma for like 30 years. Is Bigfoot and Wildboy still the best TV program ever made?

It Just Ain't Memorial Day Without Captain America Bursting Out of a Van on a Motorcycle...

Holy crap. Are you serious? This is like the worst shit I've ever seen and I've seen some serious crap. Swear to god don't ever call me again.

Christ, Can't This President Get Anything Right?

Oh snap, it's "Click It or Ticket" week? "Say, why don't I just pull the 'ol truck up to these here reporters without wearing my seat belt, and hell, maybe do a line off the dashboard too.."

Bloody Hell! It's Black Sabbath Playing "Children of the Grave" Live at the 1974 California Jam

The following handwritten letter was recently discovered on the steps of McKinley Hall:

Dear Lisa,

Holy crap, we’re finally graduating! Well at least that’s what I think I’m going to say to all our friends and families in like three years or so when we actually do graduate. But I suppose that all depends on our upcoming high court inquiry by the DEA commission into our intricate smuggling ring selling volleyballs filled with our farts through the basement of the community activity annex and then transporting them across state lines into Mexico and Canada where they are coveted as novelty exploding gag souvenirs for blind people because their sense of smell is heightened. Hey, who knew there’s lots of stuff in the yellow pages? I thought those were just for ordering pizzas. Or bail bondsmen.

I trimmed my front bush to look like a bunny. Everyone on the street just loves to stare at it,

Kristin

Song of the Day:

Malfunkshun, “With Yo Heart (Not Yo Hands)”

Marvelous Youtube Discovery #93: Mystery Man Plays Van Halen's "Eruption" on a Violin

Well done my fleet-fingered friend. I could feel your fingers burning, your brain totally on fire, thinking to yourself, "I'm playing 'Eruption' at ludicrous speed, suddenly remembering the movie Spaceballs because there's a Van Halen song used in the movie during the space diner scene where Mel Brooks spoofs the part in Alien when that monster thing blows out of that guys stomach and does a ragtime dance on the counter, except that was a Sammy Hagar song called 'Good Enough' and not a song sung by David Lee Roth, whom without a doubt is the best singer the group has ever had. Alright, about now I've got about one blistering minute left and so far I'm totally killin.' But coming up is that insane tapping part, which I've never tried to play before, so let's get ready and ...focus..focus..oops, slight slip there, hold on, that's it, I'm back on track. Got it together now. "Okay, big finish and boom--I stick the landing! Okay then, let's tie this puppy off with a couple of totally tasty licks from 'You Really Got Me' and baby I'm home!"

My inspiration? My buddy bet me a jazz cigarette I couldn't do it.

Decadent Smut: Christina Enchanted, 1979

A Seductive Journey Into Haunting Magic And Erotic Fantasy

Beautiful, fabulously wealthy Christina van Bell is drawn into a circle of psychics who unleash their powers in dangerous ways. Held captive by the demonic forces of a threatening mystic, she journeys to worlds beyond living experience, surrendering to unearthly seduction and falling prey to the horrors of forbidden passion.

Christina is vacationing in London when she receives a phone call from the dead; someone has tampered with the family fortune, and Christina stands to lose half of all she owns. Suddenly she must submerge herself in bizarre world of orgiastic spiritualists and spell-casting magicians, strange mystics who will introduce her to incredible new dimensions of pleasure and passion.

Flight Patterns

visual data animation of the jetset

More Truth in Advertising?

What day is it?

Super Bendy Woman!

Don’t be afraid. It’s okay to be mildly freaked out yet strangely aroused at the sight of Zlata’s contortions. Keep in mind she’s balancing on a glass table too. Hmm, just thinking here, but it would seem that certain possibilities could maybe possibly come to mind...say, um, I gotta go, the dog’s on fire…

HOLY KNIT! ONLY $2.99!

Thread supplied yarn through the guidline then make a slip knot. Set slide ring for weave desired. Push needle through and pull back. Even if you have never knitted before, K-Tel's one needle method is fast and easy. After completing the roll, pull end loop and start back. Cut to any size or shape. Every stitch is locked. Won't run or ravel. Illustrated instruction pattern book shows you how to make the latest fshionable garments.

The following handwritten letter was recently found crumpled on the unseasonably cold marble steps of McKinley Hall:

Dear Lisa,

I’m so wet and excited! I’m showing off my shaved pussy in the upcoming Cat Fancy swimsuit issue. Clitoris is stroked and stoked! My cat I mean. Cripes what were you thinking? Think we’ll go with the Farrah one-piece. Anyway, forget taking your metrosexual llama out for a good time in the inner city forest—it’s infested with ghetto bears, rabbit hos and deer pimps. Hey Cheapco accepted my schematics of car seats for four-legged dogs and airplane storage compartment carriers for kids. Um, oh yeah--sorry about the explosive farting in the fish tank thing. Who knew that chunky, half-digested taco chum could kill marine life? AAAHH! My screaming class is shout out loud, shriek at the top of your lungs excitement!

Kristin


Song of the Day:

“Gin and Juice” Richard Cheese

Truth In Advertising

yes it is all true. art directors have the most fun.

25 Polka Greats! K-Tel Records 1971

You mean I get "Too Fat Polka," Hoop-Dee-Doo" and "Who Stole the Kishka" in the same collection? That's freakin' awesome!

The following handwritten letter was recently found crumpled in a ball on the marble steps of McKinley Hall:

Dear Lisa,

Exclamation points are like totally back in style! Hey, if you can’t find your glasses it’s because I couldn’t find my glasses (uh, because I wasn’t wearing my glasses), so when I found your glasses I sat on them. Oops!! See the first exclamation point emphasizes my sincere regret while the second exclamation point is just simply in vogue! Since I’m completely blind and can’t see squat, I’m willing to bet my gambling problem wagering on underwater race sharks at night might not go as swimmingly as I fathomed. Hey my friend Maria turned me onto this new extra spicy salsa douche that’s muy caliente!! I know Diego Tostitos sure digs it!!

Been dropping down The Bombas and the Ploppas new album Toilet Humor,

Kristin

Song of the Day:

"Goodbye Just in Case" From The North!!

$ I predict a future product $

i can't wait to install this in my new cave grotto behind my woodshed!

Today's guitarists just don't know how to fucking accessorize anymore...and no it's not a purse, Joey.

AC/DC "Sin City" Live on the Midnight Special 1978

Our friend Monica visited Bon Scott's gravesite in Australia and sent us this cool picture. The Heineken cap and wilted flowers were already placed there.

AMBASSADOR HOTEL PROJECT
© 2004-2006 WHIT WAGNER

My first serious photographic pursuit was an attempt to document the massive (and empty) Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles. What followed was a three year quest to gain access to the property culminating in a trip through the hotel's interior on the "Final Public Tour" in March 2005.

In the interim, the grounds were photographed from various off-property locations and the resort's transformation from forgotten to demoliton-ready in the span of two years is fully documented.

The result of this journey are the images on this site and my book, Late Check-Out. Culled from hundreds of photographs, they cover every accessible inch of the fourteen-acre property...inside and out. Now completely demolished, the Ambassador Hotel lives on only in collections like this. I hope you enjoy viewing the images as much as I enjoyed taking them. WHIT WAGNER

Don "No Soul" Simmons
P.O. Box 15384
Newark, N.J. 07101
NOT AVAILABLE IN STORES!

The following handwritten letter was found folded on the marble steps of McKinley Hall:

Dear Lisa,

Lousy Smarch! I’ve just learned my May-December fling with that undergraduate named Junior Freshman (who’s in his Senior year at the Sophomore Academy) is headed for a spring commencement. Damn girl, these stretch gore-tex control top pantyhose make my ankles swell up like balloons when I fart, and after winning that five alarm chili-eating contest, I keep tripping and falling down when I pass gas stations. One Al-Qaeda quickie-mart thought I was trying to detonate a dirty bomb when I was cutting moves listening to Christina Aguilera on my iPod while picking out extra spicy corn chips. Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you that you’re right---a Cleveland Steamer ain’t no dry cleaner in Ohio.

See you down at the pillow stuffing class,

Kristin


Song of the Day:

“Gut Bucket” James Brown

Sac Free Underwear!

sacfree® makes your sac free!
In former times there were boxershorts or slips.
Today there is sacfree®, the first boxerslip of the world.
sacfree® will bring you a great feeling of liberty.

Briefly: A new dimension of comfort and liberty for your balls. And... sacfree® is sexy.

Dudes from all over the world are raving about Sac Free. Here’s some swelling testiclemonials…

“Finally, there’s underwear that let’s my balls hang out…” Rod Johnson, Albuquerque, NM

“I never thought my balls could hang so low!” T. Bag, Hackensack, NJ

“My balls were literally in a sling! Thanks Sac Free!” Nard Von Testiclees, East Germany

“Hey ma! My balls are hangin’ out!” Cletus the Slack-Jawed Yokel

Take a peek at SAC FREE

The reason the internet was invented #53

The following handwritten letter was recently discovered on the steps of McKinley Hall:

Dear Lisa,

Did you know that mac and cheese without the cheese is pretty much just macaroni? Just goes to show you that without roadmaps or driving compasses we’d really be lost. When someone gives you eggs, you either gotta make a succulent egg salad or take them back to the lab to perform comprehensive scientific studies determining the raw buoyancy of invertebrate water foul vs. incubated housed land mammals. That reminds me---it’s cool to wear pristine white pants to the La Brea Mud Museum before Arbor Day right? Hey I used your Tara Lipinski curling iron to straighten my downstairs lady forest for wookie week at the Star Wars symposium at the newly repaired Ogdensburg Dome Center on Route #32 Wednesday. Parking was free!!

I’m come the realization that my inconclusion class is uncertain,

Kristin


Song of the Day:

“Love Child” From The North 2007

Evil Rock Quilts

As the name suggests, Quiltsrÿche is not your ordinary run of the mill quiltter. Boo Davis quilts these heavy metal motifs with names such as "Skullfucked" and "Bangover".

Soul Truth: The Marvelous Marvin Gaye: In Celebration of Black History Month

Behold the greatest soul musician who ever did live performing an emotionally charged version of "What's Going On/What's Happening Brother." If you don't get goosebumps watching this footage then you must be freakin' dead. Either that or a godamn C.H.U.D., in which case get the hell outta Paco before I call Pinhead and his merry band of Cenobites to tear you apart. Or maybe I'll get the Brown Hornet to use his superpowers instead. See what happens when I get off track during black history month..

Do you suffer from "Male Menstrual Cramps."

you don't have to suffer in silence any longer. Get help. See the documentary

Useless Youtube Discovery #67: Igor Falecki~The Ridiculously Amazing Four Year-Old Drummer

The Asylum of Satan, or as I like to call it, three minutes you'll never get back

Awakened by a mutilated crazed animal who seeks her beauty to appease the blood lust of a devil bridegroom pursued to the canyons of hell to the edge of sanity by the bestial craving of the Prince of Darkness. The Asylum of Satan!

self cleaning underwear

Goodbye nasty. Hello nano.

VD is for everybody! Even the song is catchy!

HOT POOP

What happens when you mix the sassy vocals of a fourteen year-old girl from Paramus New Jersey with an Irish sheepherding fiddler, a telekinetic bassist and a crime-fighting drummer that used to play in a Hall & Oates cover band?

They're called Hot Poop-- and make no mistake-- they play hardcore funk with a sloping-forehead metal crunch, but Poop also drops in the mellow schmaltz of Enya and Yanni and flushes it all around. Wait, I'm starting wonder if I've got my facts straight here. Hmm, maybe I should've googled them before posting this.

Well, then would you believe that Matisyahu is actually Jimmy Fallon in disguise? Ever seen them together? I swear I saw Tony Clifton the other day on The View.

Bullshit or Not! Special DVD Porn Edition!

Movie titles can often be misleading. Guess which five DVDs are mainstream films and which five are hardcore porn flicks:

1. Angels in America
2. Alphabet
3. Felicity: An American Girl Adventure
4. Ten Little Piggies 9
5. The Cheetah Girls 2
6. Playing With Aaralyn Barra
7. Uptown Girls
8. Down Periscope
9. True Story of the Nun of Monza
10. Princess Has Come of Age

Mainstream Movies:
1. Angels in America ~ HBO
3. Felicity: An American Girl Adventure ~ Warner Bros.
5. The Cheetah Girls 2 ~ Disney
7. Uptown Girls ~ MGM
8. Down Periscope ~ Twentieth Century Fox

Hardcore Porn Flicks:
2. Alphabet ~ Vivid
4. Ten Little Piggies 9 ~ Platinum X Pictures
6. Playing With Aaralyn Barra ~ Anarchy
9. True Story of the Nun of Monza ~ Media Blasters
10. Princess Has Come of Age ~ Black Widow Media

There's nothing quite like a children's laxative commercial to embarrass the crap out of you

The Facts of Life are all about Bongs (and you)

the blue dot

I love this photographer, he makes me want to go hug a tree. I hope we have trees in the future. If we're smart maybe we'll still have forests too. (and polar bears)

The Good American #37

Punching an American flag in certain circumstances is acceptable, but stuffing it in a jar of urine is most certainly frowned upon.

This Just In...

Here’s the latest poll on whether or not we give a crap about polls:

46% said they couldn’t care less
46% said they care very much
46% said these polls are always fucked up

I Dare You To Press Play

The following handwritten letter was recently found crumpled up on the snowy steps of McKinley Hall:

Dear Lisa,

I’m finally getting around to thinking whether or not I should do something about the stalling Delayed Reactions—my indecisive, slow-motion volleyball team that’s hesitating about what it’s next move should be. Doesn’t matter, I’ll probably get hit by a car anyway. Say, did Godzilla wear diapers as a baby lizard? Because that’s a lot of freakin’ reptile shit to deal with. Cripes think of the formuzilla bill too. Hey my airplane watching group is really looking up since we realized they can’t fly underground as invisible land submarines. Geez, to think we wasted better part of a year staring at the sidewalk.

Been saving my farts for you in a jar filled with pine-scented air fresheners,

Kristin

Song of the Day:

“The Old College Try Cha-Cha” Henry Mancini 1960

Pooping on Star Wars Nerds

Soul Truth: The Martin Luther King Tree

Instead of dragging your poor Christmas tree out to the curb three days after Christmas every year, why not redecorate it in honor of the great Martin Luther King? Now since most of you have already thrown out your trees, I don't suggest cutting down another one just for this purpose--that'd be kinda wasteful. Now, I too have a dream..to proudly redecorate our Christmas tree for each and every holiday of 2007.

Bicycle Clown

The AV Geeks Film Archive at www.archive.org hosts an extensive collection of vintage commercials, movies, and public safety films such as this semi-tragic tale of Bicycle Clown.

Roller Skate Safely (1980), Pt 2

Learn the all important toe stop with a Shakespearean instructor on rollerskates. Totally wicked tricks in team costumes too!

Mmm, Super Cheesy 70's Goodness

Van Halen ain't wearing no roller skates

For a band that had all the brown m&m's taken out, refused to wear roller skates on photo shoots, and played Jeff Spicoli's birthday party, it's about goddamn time Van Halen was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

No you are not being paranoid

somebody is watching you.

And Now a Message from the Master

Bruce Lee screen test - 1964

Lane Meyer: A once great champ—now a study in mopishness..

See what happened to the mysterious Camaro from Better Off Dead

So long, Ramen Noodles Inventor

When our bellies were hungry there was our old friend in the cupboards. When our limited palette knew only the delectable tastes of hotdogs, and mac and cheese, there was also the trusted Ramen noodles. You have carried us through hard times and downright lazy times, when we couldn't think of anything better than slapping the cube shape noodles in boiling water for 2 minutes with a sprinkle of the salt-laden seasoning pack, and our bellies were once again satisfied. You made it easy Momofuku Ando. And for that we give you thanks. Rest in Peace.

SLIM GOODBODY

Wearing this suit gives me a sense of internalization.

Russian Utopia

Moody music with an air of minimal GUI, this site explores the architectural drawings of urban plans and buildings that never were realized beyond paper.

Everyone's favorite pair of jeans

Levi's jeans in the 70's were more than just denim. They were in fact psychedelic.

Magic Poon

Why Magic Poon? Why?
‘Cause hotwiring cars ain’t no crime in hell blondie..’
But Magic Poon, what about my purse stashed under the bleachers—think it’ll be safe during the thug convention?
Damn girl, you nuttier than a peanut factory

RIP SPY BAR

Deaths always seem to come in three’s. Last week soul brother James Brown passed away, then ex-President Gerald Ford, and then Saddam Hussein (although hanging might not actually be a natural cause).

But the most untimely death was that of Rochester, NY’s Spy Bar. Below is a copy of the letter owner John Ritter posted in the (outrageously spotless) bathrooms on Saturday, December 30:

Lisa said you were printing my letters

Now that I shook off the holidaze

I was able to navigate through my agency holiday party unscathed and guilt free

An excerpt from the Good American Rulebook

Rule #172

Always figures out how to pay for groceries before reaching the checkout.

And I’m gonna be high as a kite by then

It's every kid's wet dream. Imagine flying through the air with a pair of rockets strapped to your back. Must own superhero jumpersuit with silver boots to operate. Batteries not included. Some assembly is required.