comedy bits lost to the sands of time? what the fuck kind of melodramatic noise is this shit? well, okay, it was either write this pointless and unnecessary recap of the past or write a running diary about the Ron Howard/George Lucas fantasy masterpiece Willow due to a recent cranberry-juice-and-vodka-inspired viewing of said film. the latter, however, is going to have to wait until next week, because i simply don’t have the strength (or the heroic consumption of alcohol that accompanied the viewing of Willow the other night) to watch it again right now.
ANYWAY, i might have touched on this topic before, but sometimes i and others will get involved in a topic of conversation where things get funny (my specialty is “random, situation-specific comedy”), everyone KNOWS things are funny because we’re all laughing… and then, later, no one can remember the joking well enough to record it, which, as you can imagine, is very frustrating when you’re me and you’re trying to turn your random bullshit into internet posts. so let’s reminisce about some of these frustratingly ephemeral moments!
see, this is where you end up when you start pedaling that bullshit about “every day above ground is a good day,” that’s all. don’t say i didn’t warn you…
why “every day above ground is a good day” is WRONG, Mel
this was inspired (much as this entire update was inspired by this incident i am about to discuss) by a walk out of work with a co-worker wherein we were discussing how our respective days had gone (his was fine, mine was fair to poor), prompting me to remark that every day with our employer was sheer excellence (please add a helping degree of sarcasm to that) and prompting HIM to respond with something along the lines of it can’t be that bad, we’re still living and all, whatever. what’s that? optimism? well, i have a combined solution for that: soul-crushing depression (“i don’t think i understand what’s great about continuing to live if you hate life”) and, yes, quoting Scarface. which, i admit, often happens after i, uh, watch Scarface two days earlier.
now, the thing is, i can’t remember the specifics of this way-energetic, crazy riff about how a) the character Mel Bernstein dropped this wisdom of “every day above ground is a good day” that everyone loves to quote, but b) all of his advice is terrible (“don’t go too far,” “you can’t shoot a cop,” and “i’ll fix this up” were proven wrong in his case IMMEDIATELY) and things don’t end well for him (i recall something about a first-class ticket to the resurrection?) … so why the fuck would anyone take that one pleasant-sounding remark seriously? but though i can’t remember the specifics (damn it), i CAN recall that i went totally berserk about this and made said co-worker sick with laughter. great success!
yeah, this has NOTHING to do with the following text, but it’s a top result when you search the internet for “southern” and “cannonball.” who am i to argue with that?
that “mocking the Civil War bit” where i was impersonating arguing with a southerner
around this parts, it’s noted that i love to impersonate the following things: a crazed reverend who may or may not be my immediate superior (YOU MOTHERFUCKERS ARE GONNA SEE THE MOTHERFUCKING HOOD COME OUT WHEN I’VE GOT YOU IN A FORT McHENRY) and redneck southerners, though, in the case of the latter, i don’t have a very enlightened portrayal going into action; my Andrew Jackson impression is consciously a cross between Foghorn Leghorn and a donkey (not because i hate him, but because he was a Democrat, so you see, it’s high-speed political sassafras). also, don’t ask why i need or employ an Andrew Jackson impression.
ANYWAY, around these parts you have a lot of southerners obsessing over Civil War battlefield (also known as “the war of northern aggression” and “the war wherein those stupid rebels got knocked the FUCK out”), and one of those guys then went and got himself killed when a cannonball he was restoring (i am not sure what that even means) exploded and killed him. now, all jokes aside, this wasn’t to make light of his death… but the next thing you know, a rant developed about how all these southerners are religiously obsessed with LOSING a war and worshiping OVERRATED generals (i’m looking at you, Stonewall Jackson) and turning the battlefields into some holy relic collection site (ancient cannonballs as an updated version of the Spear of Destiny or something). the jokes related to the above are probably pretty self-explanatory. this then turned into a riff on Marylanders and other border state peoples who consciously choose to identify with the CSA in that war despite all of the above; in the end i believe i was arguing WITH MYSELF and burning on the southern stereotype who was proclaiming that because Maryland was more rebellious because they had troops on the southern side without being in said CSA.
the moral of the story: when there are multiple people in a conversation and then you take it over to argue with YOURSELF… well, there may be problems. but i just wish i could have recorded the banter, because i recall it getting some laughs.
oh, you are no man? NEITHER IS THE WITCH KING, YOU VAPID TURBO-CUNT!
i am no man? (insert janklow’s sarcastic raspberry noise RIGHT FUCKING HERE)
okay, so, everyone knows that i LOVE to bitch and moan about realism in a series of fantasy movies, whatever. my most favorite thing to complain about, however, is the line dripping with girl power in Return Of The King (the weakest of those three movies) when Eowyn fights the Witch King: “I AM NO MAAAN.” seriously, i get a little queasy whenever i a) see the film or b) someone quotes that scene.
now, there are many reasons why i hate it: the general annoyance of prophecies that are too fucking literal (my version of that scene has her stabbing the Witch King, him rolling his non-existent eyes and saying “uh, it’s a figure of speech that expresses my awesome ability to kill heroes” and then crushing her torso with his flail); the terrible delivery of said line (i don’t know if i blame Jackson or Otto more, but i guess the buck stops with the former); the fact that there’s a convoluted nerd defense of the scene that involves a) the hobbit that stabbed his foot, b) something about that hobbit’s sword or knife or whatever being specially elf-magicked to stab up demonic creatures and c) the Simarilion being the source for all of this, which brings me to d: d) if you need the Simarilion to make your MOVIE make sense, fuck you. and fuck your family and friends. and take that flying fuck at that rolling doughnut i was talking about last week.
BUT I DIGRESS. none of this is was i can’t recall; rather, it’s this: this one time, i was impersonating this scene so bitterly and sarcastically that i started to act it out, threw myself into some furniture and over a chair, and subsequently hurt myself in the fall. talk about devotion to your craft! but i guess what i’m saying is: i wish i could recall why the fuck i did that.
so, i swear these topics were actually funny at the time(s). also, there was going to be something about making a pair of nunchaku out of dead toddlers and fighting people in an airport with them, but while i assure you it was hilarious and topical, it also sounds TERRIBLE, so we’ll just move on with our lives. and, for the record, i HAVE occasionally recalled and recorded a spur of the moment rant. this here was one of those times. great success!