Literal Albatross: A Thing by Doug Driesel Jr.

I am currently archiving my weekly written podcast on my Tumblr page.  If you like it, click here to subscribe.  The following is from April 4th, 2012.

Ding dong, the Thursday’s dead.  Which Thursday?   This Thursday.  And as the maniacal cackling of this this Thursday dies down into a pile of fetid goo, so is it now time for the fetid goo that is one of these stupid things.

Ah, The Wizard of Oz.  I found myself talking about that horrible, boring movie last night.  The person to whom I was speaking claimed that The Wizard of Oz transcends the concepts of “good” and “not a very good movie at all.”  That person is a dumb dumb.  But she was cute, so I smiled and nodded, tacitly agreeing with the stupid things that she said about this dumb children’s movie that does not hold up to the test of time.

First of all, nobody farms dust anymore. The bottom fell out of that when the second Great War started. There aren’t that many modern families sitting around pining for the days when you could get free-range dust. Though, I do think they talked about that on THE Modern Family one time, but I wasn’t really listening. It’s a stupid show, but I was with a cute lady, and I believe I made my stance on accepting dumb things because of pretty lady adjacentness.

The second reason this classic piece of American cinema is the worst: Singing! Ugh. Singing in a movie is the absolute wit’s end. I already barely care about this…I don’t know…rec center you need to save or whatever, now I’ve got to sit through this five minute thing? If your songs aren’t about sadistic dentists or the sugar content of transvestites, or, at the VERY least, sung by Jim Belushi, then I just have no use for your spontaneous outburst of human emotion.

Don’t EVEN get me started on Glee. Really. Don’t. I don’t have anything to say about it. Other than “Nope.” Cop Rock? Okay, maybe Cop Rock. But it’s got the camp, ba-bee!

The third reason I want to shove this dumb movie into the dirt and call it a ‘mama’s boy?’ It’s one of the main reasons we have Liza Manelli. Has there ever been on this planet a more tedious person?! Of course there has. In the course of human history, there have been PLENTY of people more tedious than her. What’s the most tedious thing she’s done? Married a bunch of gay dudes? No, the reason I yell/asked that thing about tedium is to give me an excuse to use the interrobang, my absolute favorite punctuation.
 
Note that I left on the ‘e’ up there, so you know that it is not my vodka favorite punctuation.  It is not my Smirnoff punctuation.  It is not my Svedka punctuation (the best punctuation of 2033).  Nor is it my Absolut favorit.  I figure if you’re leaving one ‘e’ off, you might as well leave them both!  I think I might be getting a little agitated by all this vodka talk!  Am I getting off track?!  Ah, another interrobang.  That’s calmed me down considerably. Back to the dumbest movie ever made, The Stupid Wizard of Dumb Oz.
 
What I’m saying is that The Wizard of Oz is a boring movie for stupid people, and instead of showing it back to back to back to back on TNT (they know drama) once a year, every year, we should just project it on the interior wall of the gayest club in every city.  That way, when you’re going out to the bars for a night out with your friends, you don’t sit around wandering where all the women are.  You have a nice, clear indication as to why there are no women.  Then, there is no mistake with an extremely effeminate man called “Kelly.”  No matter how insistent he is that he is more woman than I…er…you can handle.
 
I fear I’ve revealed too much.  Absolutly too much.  I believe that was our choice of drink for that night.  The Absolut Lee 2Much.  Drinks have weird names these days.  Last night I had a “Long Island Arnold Palmer,” which was a Mike’s Hard Lemonade and lots of whiskey.  It was mostly whiskey.  Look, cards on the table, I found an empty, dirty Mike’s Hard Lemonade bottle outside of a sorority, filled it with whiskey and drank out of it all night.  I don’t judge you and the stupid things you do in your free time.
 
And I could, you know.  I could totally judge you on the stupid things you do.  Remember that time you got halfway to work before you realized you forgot your wallet?  I don’t judge you for that stupid action.  Nor for that time you thought you were pregnant for a week, when it turns out you were just anorexic which caused the false positives.  No, I’m not judging you for that stupid action.  Nor am I going to judge you for that wasted afternoon you spent trying to sync up The Dark Side of the Moon with The Wizard of Oz.  You have to start the record RIGHT as the third lion roar starts, dumby.
 
 Did I mention that the Magicopolis show every Friday night has now been cancelled for every Friday night?  What a stupid question I just asked myself.  I can go back up and read about whether or not I talked about that.  We were bringing in a good audience, but they wanted the place to stay “magic only,” which might be the saddest persecution of which I’ve ever heard in my entire life.
 
Alright.  Links. 
 
I’m still promoting Clan of the Red Wolf.  http://youtube.com/user/BrilliantTwerkProd is the link.  Click on it.  Watch the cartoon.  The next one will be up next week. 
 
Finally, here’s a sketch I forgot I recorded a video for. The sound’s not great, and everyone keeps forgetting their lines, but it’s still quite funny. Clicky click here.
 
Now, it’s off to my dust farm.  I threw you a curveball there,  didn’t I?

THE NEXT DAY

HA HA OOPS

Holy cats, you guys! Now, I don’t know if you noticed this or not, but this week’s stupid thing came out yesterday instead of today. Let me explain: I am a stupid dumb dumb.

I climbed the mountain of idiocy, up the rocky slopes of stupidity, nearly fell down the Crevice of Reality Television, and right to Dumbass Peak, where The Great Gazoo popped up and called me a dumb dumb. But, really, he’s the dumb dumb. You know he’s on Earth because he was exiled for creating a weapon of mass destruction, right? We KNOW his planet has a WMD, but we’re not invading them! What gives, topical joke from 2005!?

Interrobang! Did I ever end up explaining what that is? It’s a question mark and an exclamation point put next to each other. The real name for the question mark is an interrogative point and in printer’s jargon, the exclamation point is called the “bang.” Hence interrobang.

Hey, I entertained you yesterday! Info can be fun, too. Info is short for “information,” FYI. And FYI is short for “for your info (with info still meaning “information”).”

Anyway, anywho, anywhere, anywhat, anywhy, anywhen. I guess I’ll let you guys go. Sorry about the mix-up yesterday. The whole thing about the mountain is still in effect.

Like Salt ‘n’ Peppa. Who are here and in effect.  It’s time to push it, jack. Or jill, for that matter. Why isn’t that a thing? “That’s a fact, Jill!” Oh. I answered my own question. If it doesn’t rhyme, it’s not worth my time, as my grandpa always used to say.

Have I mentioned that my grandpa was Nipsy Russell? Yep. He was an okay grandpa. I really liked grandpa Charles Nelson Reilly better. He and grandmas Fannie Flagg and Richard Dawson. Are we all on board, here? I think The Match Gamepanel are my grandparents? And also that I think that Richard Dawson is a woman?

And. That. Is. The. End. Of. That. Bit. Goodnight.

I am currently archiving my weekly written podcast on my Tumblr page.  If you like it, click here to subscribe.  The following is from March 29th, 2012.

The Fourth Estate has begun its inevitable wane, spiraling down to the apathy of American pop culture.  And so goes the fourth day of the week.  And I think you know what that means?  You don’t?  Oh, well it’s another one of these stupid things, dumb dumb.
 
I kind of depressed myself in the intro, there.  But, thus are the way things go. Life’s not just a bunch of jokes, everybody.  There’s serious stuff going on in the world. Like that guy who slipped on the banana peel while holding a big tray of pies.  Okay.  That might not have been the best example.  I should have gone with genocide or something.  But that’s depressing.
 
Great!  Now all I can think about is pie genocide.  Gasp!  I’m the Pol Pot of Pies!  Pol Pot Pies!  When you your pies step out of the pre-decided lines of pot pies, you buy a Pol Pot Pie.  Look, I’m a product of the American education system.  I don’t know who Pol Pot was genetically cleansing.  Or even what country he was in (“in which he lived,” forgive me).  Foreign geography and general knowledge is not my particular ‘bag’ (stupid hippies read this, right?).  I’m not Captain BBC News.  That’s some guy in Cardiff.  I know, you’d think it would be an Englishman, or at LEAST a Yorkshireman.  But, no.  It’s a Welshmen.  Don’t tell The Queen.
 
Is she still alive?  Or is she dead?  Or, gasp!  Is she Undead?  No.  No, I guess that wouldn’t make any sense.  She’s probably still alive.  Though, wouldn’t it be a better world if she were dead, and Charles was using her as a human puppet like so many Jonathon Silvermen?  Just to avoid the responsibility of being a King?  The answer is yes.  Don’t question me.  I’m like The Queen of these stupid one-sided conversations we have.  And I want to eat your brains.  See, unlike the real Queen, I ama zombie.  You didn’t see that coming, did you? 
 
To change gears for a minute, I need to press down on the clutch.  Having done so, I’d like to talk to you about The Garbage Pail Kids Movie.  We all know it happened and none of us are happy about it.  I have the studies right here.  Let’s see, “…100% of everybody has seen The Garbage Pail Kids Movie and think that it is stupid.”  Maybe I should have actually read this before I cited it as a source.  That sounds like a pretty subjective study.  “…Study conducted by the Institute for Poo-Poo Butt Farts.”  Huh.  Hold on.  I’m going to call this institute and find out what they have to say about this.
 
Beep boop-boop boop-boop beep-boop.  It’s ringing.  Yes, hello, my name is Doug—Now, I was talking—It is rude to continually interrupt—no YOU hang up and try your call again!  Click.  So, The Institute for Poo-Poo and Butt Farts does not exist.  But that’s not going to stop me from talking about this stupid movie based on dumb sticker cards full of gross puns and insipid songs about working together, that, apparently, everyone knows about (source unverified).  I say we remake The Garbage Pail Kids Movie, only we do it RIGHT this time. 
 
Who’s we?  Oh, I don’t know, maybe you and me and that guy (he can hold the boom mic).  Come on, it’ll be great.  First off, less songs.  Done and done.  It’s not the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and eighty-seven anymore.  Songs don’t cut the mustard.  I’m assuming that saying is referring to mustard greens and not actual mustard.  You can’t cut a liquid, folks. No matter how much I want to.  Okay, so non-newtonian fluid.  But, other than that, there is not to be any liquid cutting.
 
What’s the plot of this movie is a question you might have.  And answer I will give.  Here is the plot, broken down into its simplest possible terms, by IMDb user Volker Boehm: “Seven disgusting kids but nevertheless of interesting personality are being made of the green mud coming out of garbage can. Once alive their master gives them rules to obey although they think that life is funnier without following stupid regulations like no television or no candy. Naturally this will cause some conflicts.”  See?  It couldn’t be simpler.
 
I’m envisioning Prometheus, only those pod-urn things that aretotally not Alien eggs (eye roll) are garbage pails (which people still use, go with me on this).  And when they open up in front of the giant stone coin-head of Vendo-Matt, a bunch of gross children that kind of look like Cabbage Patch Kids crawl out, covered in snot and vomit and sometimes toilet water.  Then, it’s a bunch of whiney space marines and the guy from Mad About You versus these gross children in a derelict space mining colony.
 
That’s right.  I’m calling it right now.  Prometheus will have the exact same plot as Aliens.  Take that to the bank and fill out a deposit slip for it.  For exactly $15, because that’s how much a ticket to see Prometheus in 3D at the Arclight will be.  But go to the one in Hollywood.  The one in Sherman Oaks is a joke.  That’s why they built it there.  It rhymes. 
 
I’m done talking about that stupid eighties movie and I’m done talking to you.  Especially if you’re Bill Pullman.  Pull yourself together, man.  You’re supposed to be a space marine!  Yes, I know it was Bill Paxton.  That was a joke.  Do you not understand what I’m doing here?!

Actually, what am I doing here?  Oh, yes.  Promoting my stupid endevours.  First off, we have a lovely show for you tomorrow night.  Comedy.  Magic.  Drinking.  You know the drill.  Magic After Dark at Magicopolis in Santa Monica.  Comedy from Emily Maya Mills, Ben Covette and Johnny Doom.  Magic from Michael Vile and Chad Nelson.  Also?  Atticus Ingelbert’s Ironic Hipster Freakshow!  That sounds fun, right?

Then Tuesday I’ll be at Vibe Hotel in Hollywood.  If you’ve ever wanted to see people make pop culture references to those who barely speak English, then come to this hostel show.  So, probably don’t come to this one.

Wednesday, I’ll be performing at the Next Stage in Hollywood.  That’s going to be a good show.  It’s called Pizza Party with Matty Cardarople.  Lot’s of great people will be there.  Well, great comics.  They’re all terrible people.  Haven’t you met a comic?  

Hmm, I guess some links are in order. 

First of all, I’ve signed a partnership deal with Fullscreen.net.  I’d love it if you guys could just do me a favor and go to http://www.youtube.com/user/BrilliantTwerkProd and subscribe.  Once every two weeks I’ll upload a new episode of my webseries Clan of the Red Wolf, and in between I’ll offer a short cartoon or video that will probably be pretty stupid but VERY funny.  

The last link I’m going to offer you today is a link to my Rifftrax presentation Doug’s Double Feature - Horror Express and Galaxy Invader.  I haven’t been as active on Rifftrax over the last year, but I’m planning on unleashing a few more awesome ones like this in the near future. 

Pft.  Prometheus.  Like, I’m totally sure.  Gag me with a spoon. 

I am currently archiving my weekly written podcast on my Tumblr page.  If you like it, click here to subscribe.  The following is from March 22nd, 2012.

The dragon god Tiamat has once again risen from the ocean and swallowed the sun god Ra, or else the natural progression of time has brought an end to another Thursday.  And with that comes another one of these stupid things.
 
I am at a loss for words, ladies and, more actually, gentlemen.  Take that wig off, Frank.  You’re not fooling anyone.  As I write this, the time is four of the clock, post meridiem of the afternoon this has landed in your inbox and I have yet to receive my pair of back-of-the-comic-book x-ray specs!  I did like the cartoon told me.  I ripped out the ad, put it in an envelope, licked it with what I’d consider FAR too much saliva, then shoved it in a mailbox.  And here I am, still waiting, an hour later.
 
I think the point I’m trying to make is that cartoons lie to you.  To myself as well, but mostly to you.  And why not?  You’ll believe anything!  Remember that time I told you I ordered x-ray specs out  of the back of a comic book and you were all, like, “Hmm, that could be a fun venture, provided these cardboard frames and wax paper lenses work as advertised.  Why, he could become some sort of super-powered individual.  Like a super man, as it were.”
 
Look, dumb dumb.  Superman had more than just x-ray vision going for him.  He was faster than a speeding bullet and more powerful than a locomotive.  He was able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, because he can FLY OVER THEM.  You’ve really picked his second lamest attribute to describe him.  His first lamest attribute?  Super-breath. His third lamest attribute?  Spitcurl.  Is this nineteen hundred and fifty five?  Why does he have a spitcurl?  Is Superman some sort dirty greaser?  Is he ditching Lois on the regs to get some sweet side puss from Michelle Pfeiffer?  
 
That was an excerpt from my new book, “Grease 2: Hey, Let’s All Try and Reference THIS Movie From Now On.”  The publishers begged me not to end my book title with a dangling preposition.  On bended knee they got.  But sat there I did and looked them in the eye.  Like an old Arizona Jewish retiree I talked.  “As it is, the book title will stay,” I said.  “Why are you talking like Yoda?” The book publishing guy asked.  “What’s your specific job title, book publishing guy?” I responded.  “Smokebomb!” He yelled as he drove off in his exhaust spewing, windowless panel van. 
 
And that was the end of my publishing career.  I had a good run at it, all things considered.  I didn’t publish a whole lot of books, but I did do an OBSCENE amount of cocaine.  That’s still a thing authors do, right?  Do a crazy amount of blow off some stripper’s boobs?  Ech.  “Blow.”  What a horrible word when used in that context.  In other contexts, not so much.  “You know how to whistle, don’t you?  Just put your lips together and cocaine.” 
 
Hmmm… That actually would make an interesting movie.  Certainly that Johnny Depp/Ethan Suplee movie would have been more factually accurate if it were called “Cocaine.”  But then Eric Clapton would have had to file a lawsuit, like the rap group Arrested Development did when that TV show came out.  What’s that?  Oh, you didn’t know that Eric Clapton and Arrested Development were in a frivolous lawsuit pact?  You should probably check your cable provider, because they are not carrying VH1 and it’s insightful program “Behind the Music.”  Although, by this point, they’re probably only playing it on VH2, and no one’s cable providers carry that because I just made it up.
 
Since you are too cheap to get VH1 on the regs (I heard a youth say that yesterday and thought it sounded hip), I’ll recap the scene.  “What’s up, guitar hero Eric Clapton?”  “Not much, marginal rap group Arrested Development.  What are you doing in this fancy restaurant?”  “Busing tables.  Your accent is weird.”  “Don’t I know it.  Hey, did I hear you guys were coming out with a television show?”  “No.  It’s that damn Mitch Hurrowhatsis.  He totally stole our name so all of our fans will watch his stupid program.”  “Do you really think he remembers your group?  I only knew who you were because you’re walking around with t-shirts that read ‘Hi, we’re marginal rap group Arrested Development.’  You should probably take ‘marginal’ off those shirts.”  “We should, but do you know how much money it costs to de-stitch the words on a cotton t-shirt?”  “Oh, is that embroidered?”  “Yeah, we saved up and shelled out the few extra bucks.  We think it looks more professional.”  “Sure.  Sure.”  “So, anyway, we’re going to sue that Mitch Horrowalaliwitz guy.  It’d really help us out if you’d agree to sue anyone who tried to make a show either called ‘Eric Clapton’ or ‘Cocaine’ without your permission.”  “’Eric Clapton’ I have no problem with.  But, ‘Cocaine?’  I hardly own the rights to that concept.”  “Look, Eric Clapton, formerly of the classic rock band Cream, you’re making this more difficult than it needs to be.  Just promise us, the writers of such hits as fill in the blank here after looking up what songs Arrested Development has done on Wikipedia, that when someone inevitably names a show ‘Cocaine’ you will sue them.”  “Fine.  Can I get another glass of water?”  “Get it yourself!  We’re on break!”
 
And scene.
 
And now, to the links.  No, not the golf course.  The internet links.  Now I think you’re doing this just to get me upset.  And since I don’t want to get you guys upset, I’ll keep the links short today.
 
If you think this is a thing other people will like, please have them go here: http://eepurl.com/iXqpj It’s the link to sign up for them to receive this stupid thing I do every week.
 
Also, don’t forget to follow Canada Action News for all the latest, and greatest, Canadian News.  Here’s a gem from this week: “Canada’s only Wu-Tang fan not understood by those around him. “I don’t know what he was talking aboot, eh?” Reports some guy.”
 
And last but not least, make sure to come by Magicopolis tomorrow.  10pm.  Orlando Bishop, Lara Csengody and Jay Smith with magic by Michael Vile and Chad Nelson. Info here.
 
“Hey, weren’t you also in Derek and the Dominoes.”  “Yes, I was.”  “Why do we know that?”  “That was the band that performed Leila.”  “Oh, yeah.  That was the song about you horning in on George Harrison’s wife.”  “No, that was Bellbottom Blues.”  “Wait.  Wasn’t it Wonderful Tonight?”  “It was also Wonderful Tonight.”  “You a straight up cuckolder, Eric Clapton.”  

With all of the videos I’ve been doing lately, I’ve gotten a bit behind on archiving my weekly written podcast. In retaliation, I’m posting a BUNCH today. 

I am currently archiving my weekly written podcast on my Tumblr page.  If you like it, click here to subscribe.  The following is from March 15th, 2012.

As Douglas Adams once wrote, “I could never get the hang of Thursdays.” And, likewise, I can never get the hang of these stupid things.
 
And, as The Soothsayer said, “Beware the Ides of March.” That was by The Bard. Shakespeare’s real name was Jake Bardowski, and after he proved his partying cred (read: credentials), all his frat brother simply called him “The Bard.”  Once, he lost a bet and had to change his name to ‘William Shakespeare’ because it was “Wicked funny.”  Yes, Shakespeare went to a college in Boston.  Well, not in Boston, but near Boston.
 
Shakespeare was the kind of prick who’d say those kinds of things.  I heard tell he once cornered a man at a keg party and talked his ear off about his new project “Love’s Labours Won,” which he never ended up even doing.  I…er…I mean “that guy,” thought Shakespeare was on cocaine.
 
So, to shorthand, Shakespeare was not a Yankees fan.  That’s my clever way of saying “He liked the Red Sox.” Those people are the worst.  “The worst, Doug?”  Yes, disembodied sentence, the worst. 
 
And that’s the true story of Thanksgiving.  All that stuff about pilgrims and corn ewe copious are bull.  They’re a big, old bull inside of a Chinese shop.  The true story behind Thanksgiving is all that stuff I said about the Ides of March. 
 
Which reminds me. Today, March 15^th, is the Ides of March.  And on this day, in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and eighty-three, I was rendered unto this world.  And on that day, iMovie stalled.  A rendering joke for only six people!?  Hurray!
 
“Hurray, Doug?”  Yes, disembodied other sentence.  Hurray.  Specific jokes are  hilarious.  “Hilarious, Doug?”  Fine, other disembodied other sentence, it’s not hilarious.  It’s exclusionary and weird.  You got me, disembodied sentences.  Way to gang up on one guy!
 
As it is my birthday, tomorrow’s Magicopolis show will be special.  Comedy by Vance Sanders, Matt Manser, Ed Galvez and Jo Elless, with magic by Michael Vile and Chad Nelson.
 
And for all Canadian related news, check out twitter.com/CAActionNews
 
I’ve only got one link to share with you guys this week.  It’s a stupid video I did with a lot of different versions of myself.  It’s called “Clone Wars.”  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5-JI-vbeNPA
 
Post Script: You might have noticed this week’s thing was a bit short.  I’m writing this after getting home from a day and a night’s worth of birthday stuff.  I’ll be back to full force next week.
 
Senator and Mrs. Jake Bardowski, Class of 1964.