Afishionados,

So I’m watching HOUSE last night and Faux News was kind enough to intrude upon the lower portion of my screen with BREAKING NEWS! I know that Fox Noise is “fair and balanced” and would never¹ lie to me or have a bias on one of their stories, but I just can’t figure out how men’s nipples tie in with the Republican agenda that Fox is constantly trying to shove down my throat. Thoughts?

In other news, large traces of dihydrogen monoxide were found in a local woman’s body, doctor’s say.

¹Yes, yes they would.

Afishionados,

Whilst in search of bamboo for a 3D project, I happened upon this at a floral outlet store:

Confused? Click here.

Afishionados,

Target gift cards specify “Ages 1½+” in the lower right-hand corner. And, honestly, what child wouldn’t want a nice plastic gift card in place of a toy? Remember, your kids are never too young to start being a part of corporate greed!

Afishionados,

I’m not a big fan of Hershey’s Kisses. You have to remove a whole roll of tin foil only to uncover a miniature piece of waxy chocolate. They’re more effort than they’re worth. And what’s with the stupid little flag?

I Googled for a photo of Hershey’s Kisses to coincide with my rant, and I discovered that you can buy your child a Hershey’s Kiss costume. Why would anyone do that? This costume is guaranteed to make your kid gay if it’s a boy. The Kiss hat will make him look like a princess. And those saddle shoes? No straight guy wears those. And if you should happen to buy this costume for a girl? It might not make her gay, but it will make her look too dumb to be seen in public. I guess the plus side is that if your child is ugly, you can wrap the dumb flag around their face so no one else is forced to look at them. There’s also good chance that the costume could also make your child a sociopathic killer. Don’t believe me? I offer up this photographic evidence:

Afishionados,

If Diane Keaton was a duck, she would look like this.  Now, moving on. Australia is awesome, but I’ve just read about the dumbest thing to come out of it since Speedos.

SYDNEY (Reuters Life!) - Walks like a duck, talks like a duck, dresses like a duck — it must be Australia’s duck fashion show.

Behatted ducks in pink, green and yellow outfits waddled down the catwalk in the Pied Piper Duck Show at one of Australia’s most famous annual country festivals.

Brian Harrington, who runs the show, believes his feathered models are just as talented as their human counterparts, and completely under-appreciated.

The 60-year-old has run the show for some 25 years and dresses his ducks according to the latest fashion trends for each event.

“I love that little duck. If she was a human, she’d be on top money,” said Harrington.

I have an Australian agent in the field that has done extensive research on ducks, but giving them their own fashion show? Dammit, people, birds are evil. They’re trying to take over, don’t you see? First it’s the little things, like shitting on your car or stupidly flying into your windows and doors because they supposedly don’t see the glass. Bullshit. All birds are liars. They see it. They’re just testing your house for weaknesses and determining the best time to strike. They mostly come at night. Mostly…

Soon, the madness continues and the next thing you know birds have their own fashion shows. Harmless, right? Just cute ducks in little costumes? WRONG. They’ve already scrutinized the integrity of your windows and plotted to peck your eyes out when you sleep, and this is just evidence that birds are trying to infiltrate society. They want to be destroy the system by being a part of it. Clever, but I’m on to them.

 

Afishionados,

Don’t get confused. This ain’t your run-of-the-mill cheap plastic shit. It’s elegant.

Afishionados,

This post comes with fine print. You must agree to the following terms and conditions before reading this post. If you do not agree, click here to go to a happy place.

By reading this post you agree with everything written, said, and/or posted on this blog. By reading this post you acknowledge that you might be one of (though certainly not limited to) the following:

Article I.

1. An Ubercunt.
2. An alcoholic.
3. An Evil Bitch.
4. A drug addict.
5. An absolute waste of human life.
6. A vindictive asshole.
7. A hypochondriac.
8. A liar.

By printing this post or any part of Old Fish and Lemonade and mailing it to ANY attorney you agree to ALL of the following:

Article II.

1. You agree to pay me $15,000 in cash.
2. You’re not worthy of the air you breathe.
3. Everything that I say is always right.
4. You’re completely incapable of doing anything for yourself because you can’t stand up to your parents.
5. I am absolutely fucking awesome.

If you do not agree with ALL of the above you are in violation of the terms and conditions hereby in effect immediately by order of the Awesome King as of this moment on Friday, November 30th in the year of our Lord 2007.

These terms and conditions do not apply to “Fellow Inmates” with the exception of Article II: Section 5.

::Whew:: Sorry about that. It seems that my Fairy Tale post has ruffled some feathers so I had to add a disclaimer for this one. Now, on with the post. And remember, NO PRINTING AND MAILING to attorneys without agreeing to the terms and conditions of this blog. Any similarities to persons or things in real life, no matter how guilty those persons or things’ consciences may be, is pure coincidence.

The Evil Bitch

Once upon a time in Magical Happy Land there lived an Evil Bitch. She was annoying, had short hair, and hunched a lot.

The Hideous and Overweight Scourge of the Land: The Ubercunt

The Evil Bitch could never do anything without the permission of the mentally unstable Ubercunt. No matter how much she thought she was independent, the Evil Bitch was not capable of thinking for herself or making decisions on her own, for fear of upsetting the Ubercunt. Upsetting the Ubercunt would only lead to panic attacks, severe dramatic upchucking, and a fast, albeit pointless, trip to the Room of Emergency.

One day, the Ubercunt got it in her head to continually pester the Awesome King by making shit up and sending him copies of his fairy tales by means of a Loiyar. Though the Ubercunt considered herself a super hero, the reality is that she was nothing more than a fat Ubercunt in really bad tights.

The Ubercunt on its cell phone.

One of the claims of the Ubercunt and the Evil Bitch was that the Awesome King had been “text messaging derogatory messages” to the Ubercunt’s phone. This was not at all true, however, and the Awesome King would be MORE THAN HAPPY AND WILLING to submit the last few records of his cell phone statements as proof. After all, the Awesome King only gets 200 text messages a month with His Majesty’s Service Plan, and why would he waste them on the Ubercunt when he’s since met so many beautiful women at college and work?

The Ubercunt and the Evil Bitch also feared that a specific line from the Awesome King’s Fairy Tale was a threat to their life. “If only they could be silenced forever”. The Awesome King was confused by their reaction to a fictitious tale, and certainly never planned to take the lives of anyone. Especially not with gas at $3.15 a gallon. Sadly, the Ubercunt and Evil Bitch were gravely mistaken if they thought that the Awesome King cared enough to travel so far to do such things. No, children, the Awesome King would never do that. The Awesome King never meant it as a death threat. But no one ever said that the Ubercunt or the Evil Bitch were intelligent and that the Awesome King’s schedule certainly did not revolve around them and their guilty consciences.

The Ubercunt, after learning that the world does not, in fact, revolve around her or the Evil Bitch.

In the end, the Awesome King also reminded the Ubercunt and the Evil Bitch that there existed, even in Magical Happy Land, the Bill of Rights. The Bill of Rights happened to include the First Amendment, which states:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

This gave the Awesome King the ability to continue to write his fictitious stories and share them with his followers and admirers throughout all of Magical Happy Land.

And so, the Awesome King continued to live a happier life with his newfound friends from school and work and the memories of much, MUCH happier times.

Afishionados,

There is a remake in the works of the 1963 Alfred Hitchcock classic film The Birds. Typically, I am not a fan of remakes (or re-imaginings), especially of classic films that were just fine the first time around. I did like Ocean’s 11 (though I have never seen the original) and I like the new version of The Parent Trap better than the old one. But I don’t think that anyone needs to remake The Birds. I think it will go the way of the Tim Burton flop The Planet of the Apes or the abysmal Tim Allen’s version of The Shaggy Dog. This unfortunate trend may only be tiered to movies involving people named “Tim”, however, as I now see a pattern…

I’m no fan of birds, but the original version of The Birds helps my cause in showing the world just how evil these creatures are. If you aren’t scared of birds, you should be. They’ll peck your fucking eyes out, I promise you. Right after they’re done shitting on your car. Or head.

There’s no information as to what the new Birds movie plot is, but it won’t be as good as Hitchcock’s. And one reason for that is because Tippi Hedren can’t star in it.

Tippi Hedren’s first starring role was in The Birds. She was only 33 years old and she looked smoking HOT. That’s reason enough to watch the movie right there. I suppose she could make a cameo in the new version, but it just wouldn’t be the same. For some reason, remakes love to feature the original cast members in new roles for the remade version.

Naomi Watts is rumored to be in the new Birds. She’s a hot British born and Australian raised actress and I thought she looked stunning in the new King Kong. She was also a MILF in the overrated and terribly-sound-designed horror flick, The Ring. but she’s no 33-year-old Tippi Hedren. And I don’t think there is anyone out there among today’s actresses who looks even remotely like her. Surely not her own daughter, who will never ever ever ever EVER be a GILF.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! Jeezus that fucking photo is hideous and terrifying. My eyes are burning and have melted into my lap. The apple didn’t just fall far from the tree, it landed in a pile of fresh dog shit hundreds of yards away and cross-pollenated with a fugly tree. I can’t even believe they share some of the same genes.

There, now that’s MUCH better. Absolutely stunning. I may have to go back and watch more of her movies, because I think I have only ever seen The Birds.

I have to stop posting these photos before I wet myself.

Afishionados,

I spent yesterday afternoon with some family members and one weird Wisconsin fan watching the Ohio State game. I am not a football fan and never really have been. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t know most of the rules. I will also be the first to admit that I also don’t care what the rules are. I am pretty sure that football would still suck, even if I did learn everything.

I’ve watched a lot of football games, but they have never entertained me. Usually it’s a Super Bowl party and I am just there for the free food. I just don’t understand how so many people can be so infatuated with something that is nothing more than homoerotic male bonding + ballet.

First, the uniforms. Must they be so tight? I’m not saying you have to run around in robes and shit, but come on. Nobody likes when a fat woman wears spandex. But it’s okay for a herd of 300 pound men to wear tighter-than-tight pants? And what’s with all the ass tapping? I don’t want to pat a man on the ass, but it seems like a requirement for football. Blatantly placing one’s hand (or any part thereof) upon another man’s butt cheek is a homosexual act. And that’s fine if you’re into that sort of thing.

The game primarily focuses on these huge guys running around, sweating, and hugging each other. That’s pretty much it. And nothing exciting ever happens. Sure, one of the players will grab the “ball” (which it isn’t) and run hundreds of yards to score a touchdown.

He might be a fast runner, yes, but he’s just gotta outrun those huge gargantuan guys who are trying to fondle tackle him. What is so special about that? Even a New Beetle can outrun a Semi. Plus, a lot of those football cheerleaders are really hot. Why not run after them instead? Why chase the fat dude in the tight pants?

The game also takes hundreds of hours to play. Here’s how this is broken down: The whole ballet team huddles to talk about their next move and how awesome everyone is doing with their toe point and dance routine. Then they form a line, which they hope to touch, grab, and hug other members of the opposing ballet squad. A magical clock is started, runs for 30 seconds or so, and then stops. So even though football has four quarters around 15 minutes long, the clock only runs in 30 second increments.

In between these increments, former ballet players talk about their own glory days, what the new dancers are doing wrong, how great the new ballerinas are doing, and who they think is going to win and why based on their dance routines. A great deal of time is also spent nitpicking video replays of everyone, just in case you missed anything that happened within that 30 second window.

And then there is the mystical flag. At the start of the play, someone always fucks up. It doesn’t matter who or what, but it’s inevitable. You will know when someone fucks up because the Hamburglar comes out of nowhere and throws down his all-powerful flag. He then stops the clock, walks onto the field, and does the dumbest mime impersonation that you’ve ever seen. A lot of people can’t pat their head and rub their stomach at the same time, but the Hamburglar does this on a regular basis. And then, of course, because the clock is stopped, the television has to flash over to the middle-aged commentators arguing about who did or did not fuck up and was the Hamburglar’s call valid.

Eventually, one of the dance teams will win and the crowd will go apeshit. Some TV reporter will then find a dancer who made a great play during the game and ask them the same, retarded questions that are always asked:

“Ballet Man, you guys looked tough out there today! Why do you think your team won?”

The correct answer, of course, is this: “Because our team scored more points than the other team.” But the ballet squad is not allowed or is otherwise incapable of simply stating the truth, so they must reply with bullshit.

“Well, TV guy, our opponents really brought it today and they played a great game. Our team has been working hard and we’ve been really focused, and I think we just came together today and really pulled through. We’ve got some great players on our side who have a lot of talent and we have a lot of great coaching, and I think it could be a good year for us.”

At least the Super Bowl has entertaining commercials.

Afishionados,

Borders Books and Music was kind enough to send me an email tonight, informing me of my membership earnings. I don’t know if I want to spend it all on one item or if I want to save some of it for later. I’d hate to just have it go to waste.