1. We added a couple of new links to our blogroll: The Aristocrats and archy. We’re sure you’ll find these blogs enlightening, and that you will enjoy their nice fonts and color schemes. Plus, they’re pretty darned funny, which is why they have won the coveted World o’ Crap seal of approval. Also, the people who blog there are very nice people. So, check them out!
2. Oh, and you know who we really like? Dog House Riley of Bats Left Throws Right, that’s who! For, despite his apparent problem with heroin, and his equally destructive TV Guide addiction and vast historical knowledge, Mr. Riley is a mighty fine human being. At least, that how he seems … AT FIRST!
P.S. We also really like Julia of Sisyphus Shrugged, even though she doesn’t know as much about heroin as Doghouse.
3. Thanks again to everyone who contributed to the “Feed the Furry Bottomless Pits” fund. Today I bought a 20-pound bag of Iams cat food, a 20-pound bag of Bil-Jac dog food, a case of Friskies canned cat food, a package of Bil-Jac dried liver treats, and a couple of canned of Sheba diamond-studded gourmet cat food (it was a 2-for-1 deal). So, the cats and dogs will have the pet equivalent of a goose dinner with all the trimmings this Christmas Day! And there is enough money left to do the same at least two more times! So, I thank you, the pets thank you, and the stockholders of PetsMart thank you.
4. And speaking of PetsMart, Jeep the Foster Dog found a home at the PetsMart adoption event today. A nice woman who wanted a companion for jogging, camping, and snuggling adopted him, and I’m very happy for both of them.
In fact, the whole story is so touching that I think it should be made into a holiday movie for Lifetime (or the Family Channel, which features even sappier flicks). If I were writing it, it would be titled “Jeep: The Rescued Dog Who Found a Home for Christmas. Saved Santa, Redeemed a Neglectful Father, Taught an Old Coot the True Meaning of Christmas, and Provided Us All With a Valuable Lesson About Not Eating Cardboard.”
5. And speaking of holiday movies, the votes have been tallied, and the official World o’Crap War on Christmas movie of 2006 is … drumroll please ….
(Yeah, like you were surprised.)
Scott will be giving the film the “Life Lessons” treatment when he gets a break from playing the role of a real-life George Bailey (yes, right now Scott is single-handedly running the family Savings and Loan, saving pharmacists from poisoning kids, fighting mean Mr. Potter, pretending to care about that dopey Zuzu and her petals, and helping his nonagenarian Grandfather move into new quarters).
I will be watching the crappy 1977 version, It Happened One Christmas, so that I can provide you with a scholarly assessment of what happens when George Bailey becomes Mary Bailey, Mary Bailey becomes Trapper John, Clarence the Angel becomes Clara-the Cockney imbecile, and Mr. Potter becomes Orson Welles. If I don’t get enough uplifting sentiment from it to save your souls, I’ll also try to watch Road House.
Hopefully, we’ll be able to provide you with some life lessons to help you through the holidays while there are still holidays to celebrate. But if we don’t, keep in mind this story by Pastor Swank: “All Is Bright.” It’s about how he and some of his “church folk” wanted to visit the poor unfortunates at the convalescent home as their Christmas good deed, but “since other [non-nutty] organizations had clogged the home’s December calendar,” Pastor Swank’s group couldn’t bother the old people until January. Sadly, once they got there, they found that the senile residents were not too responsive to the Christian group’s attempts to make them sing Christmas songs. (The pastor writes, “To my right there was a resident who insisted in calling out unintelligible gibberish while we gave forth with ‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing,’” which I find kind of ironic, given his insistence in calling out unintelligible gibberish while other people are trying to think.)
2. Oh, and you know who we really like? Dog House Riley of Bats Left Throws Right, that’s who! For, despite his apparent problem with heroin, and his equally destructive TV Guide addiction and vast historical knowledge, Mr. Riley is a mighty fine human being. At least, that how he seems … AT FIRST!
P.S. We also really like Julia of Sisyphus Shrugged, even though she doesn’t know as much about heroin as Doghouse.
3. Thanks again to everyone who contributed to the “Feed the Furry Bottomless Pits” fund. Today I bought a 20-pound bag of Iams cat food, a 20-pound bag of Bil-Jac dog food, a case of Friskies canned cat food, a package of Bil-Jac dried liver treats, and a couple of canned of Sheba diamond-studded gourmet cat food (it was a 2-for-1 deal). So, the cats and dogs will have the pet equivalent of a goose dinner with all the trimmings this Christmas Day! And there is enough money left to do the same at least two more times! So, I thank you, the pets thank you, and the stockholders of PetsMart thank you.
4. And speaking of PetsMart, Jeep the Foster Dog found a home at the PetsMart adoption event today. A nice woman who wanted a companion for jogging, camping, and snuggling adopted him, and I’m very happy for both of them.
In fact, the whole story is so touching that I think it should be made into a holiday movie for Lifetime (or the Family Channel, which features even sappier flicks). If I were writing it, it would be titled “Jeep: The Rescued Dog Who Found a Home for Christmas. Saved Santa, Redeemed a Neglectful Father, Taught an Old Coot the True Meaning of Christmas, and Provided Us All With a Valuable Lesson About Not Eating Cardboard.”
5. And speaking of holiday movies, the votes have been tallied, and the official World o’Crap War on Christmas movie of 2006 is … drumroll please ….
Scott will be giving the film the “Life Lessons” treatment when he gets a break from playing the role of a real-life George Bailey (yes, right now Scott is single-handedly running the family Savings and Loan, saving pharmacists from poisoning kids, fighting mean Mr. Potter, pretending to care about that dopey Zuzu and her petals, and helping his nonagenarian Grandfather move into new quarters).
I will be watching the crappy 1977 version, It Happened One Christmas, so that I can provide you with a scholarly assessment of what happens when George Bailey becomes Mary Bailey, Mary Bailey becomes Trapper John, Clarence the Angel becomes Clara-the Cockney imbecile, and Mr. Potter becomes Orson Welles. If I don’t get enough uplifting sentiment from it to save your souls, I’ll also try to watch Road House.
Hopefully, we’ll be able to provide you with some life lessons to help you through the holidays while there are still holidays to celebrate. But if we don’t, keep in mind this story by Pastor Swank: “All Is Bright.” It’s about how he and some of his “church folk” wanted to visit the poor unfortunates at the convalescent home as their Christmas good deed, but “since other [non-nutty] organizations had clogged the home’s December calendar,” Pastor Swank’s group couldn’t bother the old people until January. Sadly, once they got there, they found that the senile residents were not too responsive to the Christian group’s attempts to make them sing Christmas songs. (The pastor writes, “To my right there was a resident who insisted in calling out unintelligible gibberish while we gave forth with ‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing,’” which I find kind of ironic, given his insistence in calling out unintelligible gibberish while other people are trying to think.)
Nor were the demented residents very grateful for their special gift from the group: an orange for each ot them. (Hey, oranges may have been considered a special holiday treat during the Depression, but now giving them out is like putting green beans and bologna in a child’s Christmas stocking.)
But it all ends on a happy note when Swank and the Swankettes sing “Silent Night,” and everyone gets the Christmas spirit. In January.
So, something to think about while you wait for those movie summaries.
But it all ends on a happy note when Swank and the Swankettes sing “Silent Night,” and everyone gets the Christmas spirit. In January.
So, something to think about while you wait for those movie summaries.
16 Responses to “The Good News Report”
Yay for Jeep. Someone to go camping with and snuggle with sounds delightful. I’m almost jealous, but I suspect the having-to-eat-dog-food thing cancels it out.
We amused the Pet Smart folks by yesterday taking in for their pet food drive a big bag of food the cats won’t or can’t eat, and buying an even bigger bag of more food in different brands. “You know you’re just encouraging them to be finicky.” True, but the one of them refusing to eat is how this got started in the first place, and they’re still way cheaper to feed than any of the humans in the house.
Enjoy IaWL and its evil twin. Here, we’ll be doing the traditional David Attenborough Documentary Festival. We’re already halfway through The Living Planet, and will make it through the Private Life of Plants, Blue Planet, Life in the Undergrowth, Planet Earth, The Life of Birds, and Life of Mammals, before wrapping up with a new one this year, Life in The Freezer. We should be able to avoid seeing IaWL ourselves, in fact, an accomplishment that will truly give us something to celebrate.
Merry Christmas Eve to everyone, and happy holidays too! Remember, if you must kill your annoying relatives, please be careful to not get blood on the wrapping paper, as it makes it hard to recycle.
We amused the Pet Smart folks by yesterday taking in for their pet food drive a big bag of food the cats won’t or can’t eat, and buying an even bigger bag of more food in different brands. “You know you’re just encouraging them to be finicky.” True, but the one of them refusing to eat is how this got started in the first place, and they’re still way cheaper to feed than any of the humans in the house.
Enjoy IaWL and its evil twin. Here, we’ll be doing the traditional David Attenborough Documentary Festival. We’re already halfway through The Living Planet, and will make it through the Private Life of Plants, Blue Planet, Life in the Undergrowth, Planet Earth, The Life of Birds, and Life of Mammals, before wrapping up with a new one this year, Life in The Freezer. We should be able to avoid seeing IaWL ourselves, in fact, an accomplishment that will truly give us something to celebrate.
Merry Christmas Eve to everyone, and happy holidays too! Remember, if you must kill your annoying relatives, please be careful to not get blood on the wrapping paper, as it makes it hard to recycle.
Shorter Swank: Old people suck.
Riley? Sheesh, Riley doesn’t deserve mention even in jest on a blog run by two actual kind-hearted humanitarians. Riley was overheard just last Thursday telling his sister that (re: their octogenarian, atypically-demented mother) that the real drawback to living in the Midwest was the great distance one must travel to find an ice floe. I’m not making that up, and it’s only slightly ameliorated by the fact that he was actually speaking of his own rapidly deteriorating mental condition. The man would fuck a woodpile on the off chance there was a snake in it, if I may quote Louisa May Alcott.
Happy Holidays, sz. You’re the greatest. So is Scott. And D. Sidhe, of course, and Bill S. and Chris V. and marq and Mrs. Biscuitbarrel and Annti and preznit and beginningtowonder and woodrowfan and lemonhead and everybody else who makes me laugh on a daily basis.
Happy Holidays, sz. You’re the greatest. So is Scott. And D. Sidhe, of course, and Bill S. and Chris V. and marq and Mrs. Biscuitbarrel and Annti and preznit and beginningtowonder and woodrowfan and lemonhead and everybody else who makes me laugh on a daily basis.
Yeah, yeah, Riley. I’d just sit over in the corner making chopped liver noises if it wasn’t for all the hungry pets around here.
I think Pastor Swank making old folks sing cheery yuletide songs in January for fifteen cents worth of citrus fruit may be my most favorite war on christmas story ever. I particularly enjoyed him hating on the cheaters who ganked the prime old people time by the sneaky ploy of paying attention to them when it’s not late December.
Merry Xmas/solstice celebration of choice to the rest of you (you know who you are). You’re an island of awesome on my personal internets.
I think Pastor Swank making old folks sing cheery yuletide songs in January for fifteen cents worth of citrus fruit may be my most favorite war on christmas story ever. I particularly enjoyed him hating on the cheaters who ganked the prime old people time by the sneaky ploy of paying attention to them when it’s not late December.
Merry Xmas/solstice celebration of choice to the rest of you (you know who you are). You’re an island of awesome on my personal internets.
But it all ends on a happy note when Swank and the Swankettes sing “Silent Night,” and everyone gets the Christmas spirit. In January.
and who says senile dementia and Alzheimers don’t have an upside?
and a very merry war on Xmas to all of you
and who says senile dementia and Alzheimers don’t have an upside?
and a very merry war on Xmas to all of you
You’re right, julia, that’s truly unfair. Bastards, what with all that actual goodwill and all. Am I the only one who suspects Swank was only there because otherwise he feels too guilty when his congregants glare at him while they sing “Joy to the World” during services? That’s wingnut charity in a nutshell, too, isn’t it. We earn our Goodwill To Men points in the most shallow and fashionable way possible. One convalescent home has to take on extra staff to deal with all the people looking for an eggnog contact high while the other homes and shelters and kitchens in the area are ignored. They’re probably just full of people who are poor or jobless or running away from husbands or sick with one of those diseases that you get when you disobey God’s law, anyway.
Also, jeez, is that site crawling with popups and embedded ads or what? I have got to learn not to click over to Swank.
And Doghouse, I don’t think I’ve ever admired you more than I do right now. (Though I want a cite on that Alcott quote.) That was beautiful.
A fantastic holiday or so to you all, and you’re welcome to share my bittersweet chocolate truffles and sparkling cider any day.
Also, jeez, is that site crawling with popups and embedded ads or what? I have got to learn not to click over to Swank.
And Doghouse, I don’t think I’ve ever admired you more than I do right now. (Though I want a cite on that Alcott quote.) That was beautiful.
A fantastic holiday or so to you all, and you’re welcome to share my bittersweet chocolate truffles and sparkling cider any day.
Funny you mention the oranges; I’m 38 but as a child always received an orange in my stocking from my depression era parents. Seemed totally normal at the time, like a tradition. Wasn’t until later I understood the origins of the sentiment. It still rings sweet to me, though.
And a solemn and mortifying Advent to you, too, Doghouse! What a great community this is – Thanks to you, s.z. and scott, for making it happen.
Dropping in late before heading of to choir at the Midnight Mass to wish everyone a truly Jolly War on Christmas. S.Z., you’re a stronger person than I, being able to watch that stuff. Mr. MiS is, however, somewhat annoyed with you. I’m keeping him awake by giggling and shaking the bed reading BLTBM. I’ve picked up so many important life lessons already, and I’m not even halfway through. Mr. Riley, it’s a delight to share a comments page with you. I visit your blog daily. Joyeaux Noel to one and all.
Riley, you make me laugh more often than most, except maybe for my beloved Bill S., so try to keep yer pecker away from the DANGEROUS snakes, okay?
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/16252805/
Warm non-religious feelings and wishes for all of the World O’Crap peeps, especially all of the wonderful lurkers who’ve given so much care and love to Lee. I’m hoping to be able to update her blog after the xmas shenanigans (the ones that I had to endure were YESTERDAY, so now all I have to deal with, familial-wise, is a funeral, and NO, sadly, it’s not any of the relatives that I would wish dead or want to kill myself — it was the one cool great-uncle on The Dick’s side, planting him on Wednesday), ’cause that’s when Susan said that that’s when they should finally hear from that ENT group about an appointment for Lee.
Thank you all for always being her for me, even when I haven’t been here, and S.Z., darlin’ heart, thank you for helping me feed my own little collection of feral kitties, besides being such a good friend all of these years. Scott, thank you for the laughs and the contributions to all of my wild-hare missions, and especially for that wonderful Better Living Through Bad Movies book!
I guess it’s just an oral tradition, at this time of year, to think back over all of the clusterfucks and try to remember the good stuff, and when I think on good stuff, I always think of World O’Crap.
Now that THAT pile of sentimental crap is outta the way, who’s got some leftover turkey & cornbread dressing? I didn’t get any this year, they made GUMBO, and I’m craving DRESSING, dammit!
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/16252805/
Warm non-religious feelings and wishes for all of the World O’Crap peeps, especially all of the wonderful lurkers who’ve given so much care and love to Lee. I’m hoping to be able to update her blog after the xmas shenanigans (the ones that I had to endure were YESTERDAY, so now all I have to deal with, familial-wise, is a funeral, and NO, sadly, it’s not any of the relatives that I would wish dead or want to kill myself — it was the one cool great-uncle on The Dick’s side, planting him on Wednesday), ’cause that’s when Susan said that that’s when they should finally hear from that ENT group about an appointment for Lee.
Thank you all for always being her for me, even when I haven’t been here, and S.Z., darlin’ heart, thank you for helping me feed my own little collection of feral kitties, besides being such a good friend all of these years. Scott, thank you for the laughs and the contributions to all of my wild-hare missions, and especially for that wonderful Better Living Through Bad Movies book!
I guess it’s just an oral tradition, at this time of year, to think back over all of the clusterfucks and try to remember the good stuff, and when I think on good stuff, I always think of World O’Crap.
Now that THAT pile of sentimental crap is outta the way, who’s got some leftover turkey & cornbread dressing? I didn’t get any this year, they made GUMBO, and I’m craving DRESSING, dammit!
D. Sidhe on December 24th, 2006, saith:
Remember, if you must kill your annoying relatives, please be careful to not get blood on the wrapping paper, as it makes it hard to recycle.
To which I reply:
Use butcher-paper, dears. It’s waxed, hence less likely to soak through, leave embarrassing stains, et cetera, ad infinitum, ad nauseam.
Remember, if you must kill your annoying relatives, please be careful to not get blood on the wrapping paper, as it makes it hard to recycle.
To which I reply:
Use butcher-paper, dears. It’s waxed, hence less likely to soak through, leave embarrassing stains, et cetera, ad infinitum, ad nauseam.
A merry Sun Return to all from this non-designated lurker and occasional poster. Thanks for being an island of insanity in a world that’s just plain nuts, and giving me some of the greatest pet stories and movie reviews on the planet! Also, an especial “Happy Holidays” to any Christmas Warriors that may be hiding there in the shadows!
Please enjoy the good times, which make life worth living, and don’t diss the bad times, without which we’d have nothing to reminisce and laugh about.
Now, to wrap those last few presents…
Please enjoy the good times, which make life worth living, and don’t diss the bad times, without which we’d have nothing to reminisce and laugh about.
Now, to wrap those last few presents…
mmm…lemonheads,
I’m 31 years old, and my mother still hangs up stockings for my brother and me, and she still puts an apple and an orange a piece in each. Momma was born after WWII, but being raised in rural Northeast Mississippi, it took a while for the end of the Depression to get around to them. It makes her smile, which makes me smile, and making Momma (and my Mommaw) smile is the only reason I have anything to do with the whole Christmas thing these days. A big 10-4 on how the incescent whining of the Christmas Warriors has almost leeched out any and all sentiment I had for the secular aspect of the holiday. Way to go, cats, too bad you “good Christians” can’t find something more positive to do with all that yuletide energy, like, oh I don’t know, feed the hungry or clothe the poor. But, naw…that sounds like something that Jesus guy would do, and he was a wimp.
Now. A Singing to Old Folks On Christmas story. Last year, two guys from the local music scene did a little performance for the old folks at one of the local nursing homes. Both of these guys are pretty good singer-songwriters (names upon request), both doing a sort of alt-country, wanna-be Steve Earle-type thing. The to-do was at 9 in the morning, and both them boys had been up all night, drinking and dealing with their serious sinus problems with “special medicine”, if you know what I mean and I think you do.
The nurse kept asking for “Christmasy songs” rather than the pair’s collected tunes of drinkin’ and whorin’ and such, but the closest they came was a mumbled version of Robert Earle Keen’s “Merry Christmas From The Family” and an admittedly neat cowpunk version of “Silent Night”. Except for one little old lady who danced (more or less) the entire time, the old folks sat in stunned silence. It was video taped, and even though I was stoned when I watched it, I still felt sorta guilty for laughing as hard as I did. Nursing homes are crushingly depressing.
In any event, I hope all y’all had a good whatever. Apart from having to bury my paternal grandfather, mine was quite nice, but you have no idea how glad I’ll be to get back to Athens tomorrow. I love my family, but I love even more than they’re all 300 miles away from me.
I’m 31 years old, and my mother still hangs up stockings for my brother and me, and she still puts an apple and an orange a piece in each. Momma was born after WWII, but being raised in rural Northeast Mississippi, it took a while for the end of the Depression to get around to them. It makes her smile, which makes me smile, and making Momma (and my Mommaw) smile is the only reason I have anything to do with the whole Christmas thing these days. A big 10-4 on how the incescent whining of the Christmas Warriors has almost leeched out any and all sentiment I had for the secular aspect of the holiday. Way to go, cats, too bad you “good Christians” can’t find something more positive to do with all that yuletide energy, like, oh I don’t know, feed the hungry or clothe the poor. But, naw…that sounds like something that Jesus guy would do, and he was a wimp.
Now. A Singing to Old Folks On Christmas story. Last year, two guys from the local music scene did a little performance for the old folks at one of the local nursing homes. Both of these guys are pretty good singer-songwriters (names upon request), both doing a sort of alt-country, wanna-be Steve Earle-type thing. The to-do was at 9 in the morning, and both them boys had been up all night, drinking and dealing with their serious sinus problems with “special medicine”, if you know what I mean and I think you do.
The nurse kept asking for “Christmasy songs” rather than the pair’s collected tunes of drinkin’ and whorin’ and such, but the closest they came was a mumbled version of Robert Earle Keen’s “Merry Christmas From The Family” and an admittedly neat cowpunk version of “Silent Night”. Except for one little old lady who danced (more or less) the entire time, the old folks sat in stunned silence. It was video taped, and even though I was stoned when I watched it, I still felt sorta guilty for laughing as hard as I did. Nursing homes are crushingly depressing.
In any event, I hope all y’all had a good whatever. Apart from having to bury my paternal grandfather, mine was quite nice, but you have no idea how glad I’ll be to get back to Athens tomorrow. I love my family, but I love even more than they’re all 300 miles away from me.
Hey Matt — wanna trade?
Either the families or the 300 miles?
Sorry to hear about your grandfather, we’re planting my one cool great-uncle on that side on Thursday.
And if you see a big tall shaved-head bouncer from New Orleans when you get back to Athens, punch him in the nuts for me.
Well, he’s not THAT tall, but still. Can’t quite call his name at the moment, but his girlfriend’s a snot.
Either the families or the 300 miles?
Sorry to hear about your grandfather, we’re planting my one cool great-uncle on that side on Thursday.
And if you see a big tall shaved-head bouncer from New Orleans when you get back to Athens, punch him in the nuts for me.
Well, he’s not THAT tall, but still. Can’t quite call his name at the moment, but his girlfriend’s a snot.
Nursing homes are crushingly depressing.They’re even more depressing of you’ve spent any meaningful amount of time in one. As in as a patient. I spent about a month-and-a-half in one back in ’97 (mainly because my cheap-ass insurance didn’t want to pay for that amount of hospitalization). I was the youngest person there by thirty-odd years. Toward the end, when I was nearly recovered but couldn’t walk, I spent a great deal of my time rocketing around in a wheelchair, ’cause my arms were pretty strong. Good times, good times.
Anti,
Thanks, and my sympathies for your great-uncle. As for the rest, nah, they do drive me up the wall, but I wouldn’t trade my momma’s people for all the gals in Gammorah. My favorite is when we get New In-Laws and they meet the hillbilly horde for the first time, including my prodigal brother and long-haired, liberal lunatic black sheep me – and realize just what they’ve gotten into. The look on their faces is always priceless, but eventually, gabba gabba, they become one of us. Especially when they sit down with Mommaw, who’s 85 and has decided she’s done the whole seen-but-not-heard country wife and mother thing too long, and by God, she’s gonna say just what she wants to say. We were actually able to get the entire clan together this time, first time in far too long a time.
And I ain’t punching no bouncers in the nuts for nobody. Actually, we do have a lot of hipster ex patriots from the Big Easy, the ones that didn’t drift to Austin after Katrina hit. I myself am kicking around the idea of moving to the Big Easy once my lease runs out. Maybe get my life back in gear, find something worthwhile to do.
Thanks, and my sympathies for your great-uncle. As for the rest, nah, they do drive me up the wall, but I wouldn’t trade my momma’s people for all the gals in Gammorah. My favorite is when we get New In-Laws and they meet the hillbilly horde for the first time, including my prodigal brother and long-haired, liberal lunatic black sheep me – and realize just what they’ve gotten into. The look on their faces is always priceless, but eventually, gabba gabba, they become one of us. Especially when they sit down with Mommaw, who’s 85 and has decided she’s done the whole seen-but-not-heard country wife and mother thing too long, and by God, she’s gonna say just what she wants to say. We were actually able to get the entire clan together this time, first time in far too long a time.
And I ain’t punching no bouncers in the nuts for nobody. Actually, we do have a lot of hipster ex patriots from the Big Easy, the ones that didn’t drift to Austin after Katrina hit. I myself am kicking around the idea of moving to the Big Easy once my lease runs out. Maybe get my life back in gear, find something worthwhile to do.
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