Archive for the 'Pre-recorded Twisty' Category
Oh no! A 40-second video of a dancing cartoon butt wreaks havoc with my neurotransmitters!
Below, sent in by blamer Katie — thanks, Katie! — is the video that generated my paroxysm. According to my secretary Phil, the video is funny, but not as funny as I think it is.
At Thanksgiving I usually let some steam whistle through my kettle of disgust regarding the holiday’s shameless celebration of domination culture, but this year I’ll confine myself to remarking that this ubiquitous euphemism “Turkey Day,” though it makes the spinster skin crawl, is at least a step in the right direction towards secularizing these godbag holidays.
I know a couple of turkeys personally. They bear no resemblance to the poor mutant albino carcasses commonly referred to as “turkey” by urban consumers. Why does everybody act like the world will come to a fucking end if they don’t roast one of those things? Who actually even likes eating that shit? This senseless clinging to violent tradition. I ask you.
Meanwhile, Franny got spayed two days ago, and is pitiful. She has already chewed through 2 e-collars. Against all odds, she hasn’t blown out any sutures yet.
In other news, it will amuse the Blametariat to hear that my debit card got hacked by some asshole perv who used it to open not one, not two, but three Internet porn accounts. As anyone who has endured this indignity knows, the aftermath is bloody. For the next three days — not counting the superfatted “Turkey Day,” since nobody answers Internet porn phones when there is excessive gorging to be done — I will be on perma-hold with endless automated customer “service” systems in a maddening attempt to rectify this way-bogus turn of events. I spoke to one human porn site guy who told me I was “paranoid” in thinking some total stranger had nicked my card number. He was positive that if I double-checked the house I would certainly find some pornsick husbands or sons slavering away in the dark.
I’d like to tie that asshole perv’s nuts in a bow.
Spinster aunts, at midnight after a half a bot of rosé, are often inclined to sluice out to the back porch, wearing attractive headlamps, to find Western diamondback rattlesnakes hanging out by the door. The serpents wait like patience on a statue, apparently imagining that mice or hunks of filet mignon are about to come flying out of the house.
The situation is perturbing in the extreme, since the Western diamondback is, according to Texas Snakes, a Field Guide, responsible for “the majority of serious envenomations and most of the fatalities” incurred by snake-encountering Texans. Its status as the most frakkin dangerous snake in the state results from its vigorously high self-esteem, giant fangs, and gargantuan venom capacity.
I gazed about me, giving the air a hopeful sniff. Nope, just my luck. Why the snake-handling Pentecostals should have chosen this of all moments to make themselves scarce, I’ll never know.
Faced with an inconvenient paucity of deluded Christians, it was clear that I was on my own. So I enjoined the 3 1/2-foot specimen to move along by menacing it with a broom. I believe I also yelled, “Hey. Git along, now.”
The Western diamondback rattlesnake just laughed and cranked up the rattling to eleven.
I then got the bright idea of turning a water hose on it. When this tactic merely induced the snake to slither a few feet thither, then to coil up against a drainpipe from which tactically advantageous position it adamantly refused to budge, I gave up and went to bed. It appears that reptiles, unlike cats and forest fires, like water.
Speaking of brooms, have you seen that repellent TV commercial where the smiling blonde hottie dances around her sparkling kitchen making love to her Swiffer mop, while her old mop, cast in the role of jilted lover, mopes around stalking her? Women and their romantic, intimate relationships with cleaning supplies!
Excuse me, I’ve got a hot date with an old dishrag.
Do I just sit around making goofy little movies with my iPhone these days? Yup.
Behold Attack of the Bathroom Accoutrements, director’s cut.
Speaking of film, here’s the latest release from Spinster Studios 24-Hour Emergency Art-O-Mat, iPhone Cinema Department. It’s a dilly.
Remember how there was an adorable puppy gonna show up here at El Rancho Deluxe? Well, she showed up. A yella lab. Call her Fran. The credit for this excellent name belongs entirely to my pal Erin, who once had a cantankerous old American Eskimo named Fran, a tragically noble animal I always pretended to dislike.
Although now that I think about it, I actually did dislike that dog. She was a senile old bite machine.
As promised: the well pump repair documentary, cinematographed with my iPhone. Five minutes of pure torture.
Yeah, I got the new video iPhone. I am a pathetic early adopter.
The video is of my giant horse Stanley. He is wishing I would just let him go out and eat some grass already.
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