Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Category Archives: Blogwhoring
The resurrection of Mel
After a long hiatus, our favorite Latin blogger is back in action! Mel Gibson comments on his recent arrest for suspicion of DUI:
They told me that drinking the blood of Jesus was a crime. If being a true Christian is a crime for which I may be
persecutedprosecuted, then I will demand the death penalty!
Go give him some love, people.
***
Who wants to see me go live?
I’m going to try to go live with my webcam tomorrow evening at 8 PM PST. Come on over for a chat if you’re in the mood. Who knows, it could be fun.
But I have to warn you . . . for some reason, I seem to attract lots of strange sex chat people. Folks with really limited imaginations.
Stay tuned.
D.
Now available as cover model for were-hobbit romance
The Bitches have posted the amateur entries for their cover art contest. I’m in awe of the talent here — my own attempts at snarky (and arachnophilic) cover art seem so lame by comparison. (Still . . . I think Sex at Seven, Dinner at Eight rates as Best Spider Romance Title worldwide.)
Gurta Belle McWanker’s Stalking the Savage Were-Hobbit would have won my vote, were it not for the male cover model’s obvious non-hobbitiness. Gurta, call me. My rates are reasonable. And Ms. Pussi McSavage? Any time you need a cover model in goofy glasses who’s up for a nipple massage, I’m your man. I’ll even shave my chest.
But there may be a scheduling problem, since the hair has to stay on for my were-hobbit photo sessions.
D.
Jake: “You guys had horrible TV when you were kids.”
Thank Jim Donahue for this one.
Good night already!
D.
Come for the manties, stay for the dry discourse
I mean, stay for the insightful analysis of the current rhetorical flamewar over illegal immigration. Yeah. That’s what I meant to say.
I’m guest-blogging over at Blue Gal’s place today. She found me some mighty fine undies to wear, yessirree. Come see.
I was going to link at “come see,” but that would waste a Google-tweaking opportunity. How about this: come see hot men’s underwear. That’s better.
D.
I waste time so you don’t have to
Lyn Cash, the sweetie, has been trying to send me a video. Something nasty, no doubt. Unfortunately, I can’t get the vid to work and I’m not enough of a tech wonk to figure out the problem, so I tried finding it on Google Video.
Meat Loaf
No, not another recipe. I’ve never made a successful meat loaf. In fact, I’ve given up on it entirely. Even the sound of the words meat loaf makes me think of a meat-brick slathered in ketchup and baked to leathery badness.
Naw. I’m feeling weird and tired this evening, wishing I could be one of those blokes who drinks espresso at night and still gets to sleep. Even George Bush’s scraping-bottom approval ratings and Rove’s impending date with fingerprint ink can’t energize me. And that’s why I’m taking the easy way out.
Hat tip to Pat Johanneson for shouting out (A) Terry Bisson’s short story “They’re Made Out Of Meat,” available online, and (B) linking to the video dramatization of that same story. Pat got the links from BoingBoing. You don’t really need a link to BoingBoing, do you?
Recognize anyone on that “They’re Made Out Of Meat” video? How about Tom Noonan, uber-tall character actor whom I most fondly remember as Frances Dolarhyde in Michael Mann’s 1986 movie, Manhunter? Screw Anthony Hopkins’s version of Hannibal Lecktor. Brian Cox is Lecktor, just as Noonan is Frances Dolarhyde. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, rent the damned movie and see for yourself.
There. Amazing. I wrote an evening post, feeling like crap.
D.
ETA: It was bound to happen. Spock has a MySpace blog. Make sure you check out “Video 2”.
Kate and I have done it. What’s the matter with the rest of you?
We’ve signed on to the Online Blogintegrity Statement of Principles, which includes:
NO CUSSIN’. Fuck that cursing shit. I mean, like, fuck it. FUCK.
Hey, I don’t understand half of those other Principles, but I get that one. I’m sold.
So . . . what are you waiting for? Do it!
The one-nippled* Starship Captain commands you!
D.
*I’m deadly serious. I’ve magnified it 400% in Paint Shop Pro and the dude has no left nipple.Â
Potpourri
Remember the old Jeopardy, the one that Art Fleming hosted? Not that icky new Jeopardy, with Alex “Smug is My Middle Name” Trebek, who delivers answers like, “This world is sometimes called the Red Planet” with a perfectly straight face. (Ugh. And the way he corrects contestants when they get the question wrong! Sure, Alex, like you would have known the answer if it wasn’t staring you in the face.)
Potpourri was the catch-all category on the old Jeopardy, and that’s the word that came to mind when I decided to spread tonight’s bit of blog love. Without further ado, let’s play Jeopardy!
A: This “demented” writer is hosting another book giveaway.
Q: Who is Demented Michelle? (Yup, another giveaway. Toss your hat into the ring.)
A: This “malicious” author dishes on sequels and sequelitis.
Q: Who is Tamara Siler Jones? (Doing it again, April 27.)
A: For top notch snark on the Puritans at RWA, check out this genre jockey.
Q: Who is Paperback Writer? (Still snickering about point #3.)
A: These “clever shrews” recently landed their very own Wikipedia page.
Q: Who are the Smart Bitches? (A: This is your current emotion. Q: Am I envious?)
And for $1000 . . .
A: Hands down the biggest time-eater on the web.
Q: What is You Tube?
G’night.
D.
An incredibly perceptive analysis
“I want to believe,” said the Rabbi Marc Gellman,
“But you atheists make my life wan.
I’d rather snort cole slaw with that doper Rush Limbaugh
Than find God in the sands of Iran.”
Neil Young said, “You rube, stop watching YouTube,
You’d be better off shaving your Bush.”
“Out of MySpace,” cried Reb Gellman,”you heathenous hellion.
Better music I make with my tush!”
Now, I could rhyme “erection” with “Singapore election,”
“Courtesan” with “Kaavya Viswanathan”,
and tout compris with the Crony Fairy,
Lord above, I can’t take it any more! You don’t want to know how long it took to write those measly 2 3/4 stanzas of lameass poetry.
I may be a Technorati whore, but I have limits.
D.