The following is an actual junk email that had me laughing my ass off.
It was kinda like reading Hemingway on acid.
If all spam was like this, I think I’d actually read more of it.

“The grand piano is single-handledly gentle.
Some eggplant related to a traffic light makes love to a carelessly frustrating rattlesnake, or the hole puncher over a traffic light accidentally borrows money from some paper napkin of a diskette.
A bowling ball daydreams, because a power drill eats the maelstrom about another polygon.
Another highly paid spider buries the college-educated line dancer.
For example, the mitochondrial fraction indicates that a vaporized nation is a big fan of a stovepipe for a dolphin.”

Yeah, weird.

I have no idea what the fine folks at Ben & Jerry’s are smoking these days but they have some of the tackiest advertisements for ice cream that my eyes have ever had the misfortune to read.
The ads are so cutesy they make me want to stir fry a litter of Chihuahua’s.
Well, almost.
I hear they taste just like chicken.
Ice cream in January around here is almost as enticing as a hot cup of soup on the 4th of July.
It just doesn’t make meteorological (or logical) sense.
Like these Ben & Jerry’s ads.
I saw an ad at B&J’s a month or so ago for one of their frozen concoctions called ‘Whirled Peace’.
Ugh.
Gag me with a maggot.
The proverbial turd floating in the crapper was something I happened to notice last Tuesday.
Are you ready?
Get your tie-dye barf bags out.
The flavor du-jour (I didn’t even bother to see exactly what it schwas) was something called, ‘Yes, Pecan’, in honor of the big O’s inauguration.
Yes, Pecan?
You have got to be shitting me.
Lame, lame, lame.
Well, smack my ass an call me Betty, who was the slogan-making machine that penned that one?
They should be brought out to pasture and neutered.
Over the years, slogans have always managed to catch my attention, especially when they’re real bad.
(like B&J’s)
I found a few funny things floating in cyberspace regarding slogans gone over to the dark side:

• Clairol introduced the “Mist Stick”, a curling iron, into Germany only to find out that “mist” is slang for manure.
• Colgate introduced a toothpaste in France called Cue, the name of a notorious porno magazine.
• Coors put its slogan, “Turn it loose,” into Spanish, where it was read as “Suffer from diarrhea.”
• Scandinavian vacuum manufacturer Electrolux used the following in an American campaign: “Nothing sucks like an Electrolux.”
• When Gerber started selling baby food in Africa, they used the same packaging as in the U.S., with the beautiful Caucasian baby on the label. Later they learned that in Africa, companies routinely put pictures on the label of what’s inside, since most people can’t read.
• The Coca-Cola name in China was first read as “Ke-kou-ke-la”, meaning “Bite the wax tadpole” or “Female horse stuffed with wax”, depending on the dialect. Coke then researched 40,000 characters to find a phonetic equivalent: “ko-kou-ko-le”, translating into “Happiness in the mouth.”
• In Taiwan, the translation of the Pepsi slogan, “Come Alive With the Pepsi Generation,” came out as “Pepsi Will Bring Your Ancestors Back From The Grave” in Chinese.
• Also in Chinese, the Kentucky Fried Chicken slogan, “Finger-Lickin’ Good” came out as “Eat Your Fingers Off.”
• Frank Perdue’s chicken slogan, “It takes a strong man to make a tender chicken” was translated into Spanish as “It takes an aroused man to make a chicken affectionate.”
• When General Motors introduced the Chevy Nova in South America, it was apparently unaware that “No Va” means “It Won’t Go.” After the company figured out why it was not selling any cars, it renamed the car in its Spanish markets to the Caribe.
• Ford had a similar problem in Brazil when the Pinto flopped. The company found out that Pinto was Brazilian slang for “Tiny Male Genitals.” Ford pried all the nameplates off and substituted “Corcel”, which means horse.
• When Parker Pen marketed a ballpoint pen in Mexico, its adds were supposed to say, “It Won’t Leak In Your Pocket And Embarrass You.” However, the company mistakenly thought the Spanish word “embarazar” meant embarrass. Instead the ads said that “It Won’t Leak In Your Pocket And Make You Pregnant”

The psychology of slogans fascinates me.
And come to think of it, after reading these, maybe Ben & Jerry’s isn’t so bad after all.
Bite the wax tadpole?
Evyl must have had something to do with that one . . .

This weekend Pamela and I are going to see a favorite comedian named Jim Gaffigan.
{a surprise anniversary present from Pamel}
Gaffigan’s last tour, “Beyond the Pale” brought him SRO fame.
He’s currently sold out multiple performances in Boston.
I found a video interview regarding his new show, “The Sexy Tour”.
It’s a spoof but it’s a good one.
If you’ve yet to see the man, watch “Hot Pockets” or “Holidays”
Phunny stuff.
I know it’s only Thursday but I’m pretty much gone for the weekend.
Enjoy the video.
Catch you guys next week.

I have caught up on most comments and commented on many blogs.
But I will admit, I have been a bad blogger lately.
Not the worst but definitely not the best.
A very long work week combined with a busy life in general has grabbed me by the cojones.
I am taking a vacation starting at 6PM tomorrow. (EST)
I will be around and plan on posting a few things during the week but, in the words of the AWB,
I have work to do.
I thank all of you for the visits and the comments.
I will visit my folks on the blogroll as well.
No worries.
See you all on the flipside of the blogosphere.
Gonna take Frankie’s advice for now . . .

Propaganda, wasteful debates, meaningless answers to the
ad nauseum questions that never got truthfully answered
and now we have to vote?
On what?
Jesus Krispies, I’m really confused on this one.
Time for a write-in?
How about Elvis?
Hmmm . . .

A little while ago Evyl and me started a “man” blog.
A bit of a risque pot of blogging stew that we’ve had some fun with.
We’ve since added a few more men to make for some added insanity.
First was the addition of Evyl’s brother “Crazyass Dan”,
a full fledged comedian in his own right, reminiscent of his brother.
We’ve stretched the blogging ropes a bit more with a new contributor named B.E. Earl,
another interesting contributor to the mayhem.
He owes his moniker to a great site called “redmeat.com“.
With these additions we’ve also changed the name of the blog to “Mantown“, a name that encompasses
much of the overall atmosphere of the place.
Though posts are anonymous in terms of the writer, it’s always fun to play guess who.
It’s a guy blog that’s written by guys.
What can I say?
But damn, we love to see you ladies too.

Come one, come all to Mantown, the one place where boys will always be boys
You can leave your manners by the front door.
Now click on that damn chili pepper!!!!!

I’m all about the giving some days and today is one of those days.
Got a website for ya.
I just can’t keep this stuff to myself.
There is a specific reason I mention this but I’ll get to that in a few minutes.
If you want a real good laugh; do not pass go, do not collect $200 and go straight to hotchickswithdouchebags.com.
The site tagline is “Pictures of hot chicks with total and complete douchebags. With commentary.”
It is hysterical, imho.
The concept is fairly straightforward, find a guy that thinks he’s way too sexy and photograph him as he poses with some randy lass.
I thought of this website after seeing this narcissistic little prick get on the train.
He walks likes he’s on a freaking runway and I just want to stick my foot out into the aisle and watch this candyass fall flat on his face.
Yeah, he’s a gem. I have to laugh because I’ve actually seen him unsuccessfully try to pick up several women. (Dude, you’re on a train.)
He’s married as well, not that it really matters.
He is by all counts the quintessential HotchickswithDouchebags poster boy.
I’d love to see him hook up with Blondezilla.
Oh, wait a minute, that’s a different site altogether.
I think it’s NastyasschickswithDouchebags.com, but I could be wrong . . .
Right Said Fred knows all about it
btw- the guy in the picture won the highly coveted HCWD Choad of the year award.
And my, my, my wasn’t it richly deserved?

For two nights in a row I’ve dreamed of Gwyneth Paltrow.
No rhyme, no reason.
Maybe it’s the part of my brain still coming down from my Kelli Pickler fantasies.

Now the strangest part is that me and Gwyneth are in Grand Central Station in New York and she’s trying to buy a ticket.
I keep trying to get a word in edgewise but she ignores me for reasons that are really pissing me off.
Nothing more demoralizing than getting dissed in a friggin’ dream.
She finally gets her ticket and she begins walking away.
I no sooner start to follow her when she turns around, looks at me and says, “Get Parmesan.”
That’s it.
Now remember, this is a woman that has children named Apple and Moses.
Get parmesan?
I should have said something witty like, “Why don’t you name your next kid Pork Chop, honey.”
But I didn’t.
I will say she’s damn pretty in my dreamworld.
Now if I can just figure out the deeper meaning of ‘get parmesan‘ maybe I can get to that next level.
Apple.
Pickler.
Parmesan.
Maybe it was damn food dream after all.
Or not . . .
Apple, Pickler and Parmesan.
Say that 3X real fast

A couple of gals have some funky stuff going on over

HERE!!!!!!

I visited there tonight and a post reminded me of an old musical nugget I used to love.
Check it out below.
Anyone remember The Brothers Johnson?
Classic stuff.
I found a Quincy Jones video that has Ray Charles singing the lead vocal. (Chaka Khan, too!)
How hip is that?
Please visit the GIRLS and tell them I sent you alright?
They’ll be good to you.
If you have headphones, plug ‘em in a watch this wonderful video.
The sound is frickin’ awesome with cans.

Back in the late 70′s and early 80′s I was gigging on a regular basis. (gigging = playing music i.e., weddings, night clubs, festivals, frat parties)
For a working musician, the times were good.
Actually, that’s wrong, they were the best.
Although things have changed dramatically and DJ’s continue to unjustly monopolize the wedding industry I still have rather fond memories of the good old days.
I read this short post at FFE’s blog and the wheels began turning.

Back in ’79 I got into a very popular cover band and was told I needed to purchase a specific wardrobe to be worn when we played various nightclubs in the area.
It didn’t seem like a big deal to me at the time until I found out exactly what I would need to purchase.
Alright, I’ll describe it.
And if you laugh, you’re freekin’ dead.
Here goes: tight, hip-hugging, white bell-bottoms (the widest bb’s I’d ever seen with a red silk insert on the outer seam), a red silk shirt with lapels that came down to my nipples, a white and tres skimpy white vest that rode somewhere near the bottom of my rib cage and a pair of (God help me) hideous ruby red platform shoes ala Elton John and the Yellow Brick Road.
You want to put me out of my misery already, don’tcha?
I would wear this ‘manly-gear’ mainly at nightclubs.
After the band finished the night (@1:45 -2:00am) I’d be hungry and would venture into Worcester to a tex-mex place called “The MidHeaven” for a few tacos or enchiladas.
The eating part doesn’t strike me as strange but the fact that I still had on my stage clothes deeply disturbs me these days.
Go ahead.
Ask me.
Michael, what in God’s name were you thinking? You’re lucky you’re alive you stupid bastard.
I must have looked like some bizarre Elvis wanna-be, incarnated and twice removed.
Dear God, please someone shoot me . . . uh-huh-huh
Maybe that’s why no one ever bothered with me.
They thought I was dead.
I’m alive to tell the tale so . . .
God damn, I looked goofy.
But I got babes.
Go figure.
Must have been the hip-huggers.
I saw the video below and thought, “This video deserves a post.”

Most memorable line from the video?
The really memorable line from the video?

” . . . my blue jeans is tight
so onto my love rocket climb . . .”
Is that frickin’ poetry or what?