Log in

No account? Create an account

Stutterings of the Sub-Genius

We Think We're Funny

10/15/05 09:25 pm - aeric_7734

I posted this in ultimate_metal, and I think it's pretty hysterical so I'm reposting it in here... without a cut... just kidding.

Shit That Makes me Hate Metal:Collapse )

10/13/05 10:45 pm - randomonionring

Man it's been slow in here. I think everyone's been busy. On a high/side note, however... I turned a friend of mine on to Low Brow and he was totally freaking out over the content. Bonus is that he works for the NSCC Polaris paper and wants people's contact info so he can seek permissions to run some entries in upcoming editions of the paper. If you're interested in seeing you stuff go print (albeit small-time print) kick your e-mail addies to me at turtle@hardscience.net and I'll pass them along. I'm trying to get him to join because he's a sharp lad and has much valuable material of his own to contribute.

10/6/05 11:22 pm - randomonionring

There once was a time when the standard for drunken, talentless, haggared eye sour-candy was set by the "women" of the Tidy Camp. Anne Savage, Lisa Pin-up, Lisa Lashes and Rachel Auburn would shun the concepts of hydration and mantainance of coherence and coordination, consuming their body weight in champagne, vodka and whatever else they could get their hands on, powdered or liquid, all for the sake of crownd entertainment, of course. Well look out, high queens of the UK trainwreck brigade. The U.S. has a new secret weapon to pit against you... and it's a Junglist!

It is now my pleasure to announce the arrival of...


Bio: One night, while indulging in the burgeoning club scene with close friend and consumption competitor Paris Hilton, Tara received what she thought was a sneer from the resident DJ. In a Vodka-and-Red Bull-and-Vodka-and-Vodka-and-Jaeger-and-Whiskey-and-Goldschlager-and-Vodka induced tirade, she stormed the booth and shoved the DJ aside. "Fuck you, fucker! Who the fuck do you think YOU are? I'm fucking Tara Reid, motherfucker!" she bellowed. Then she turned to the decks, fumbled the headphones on to her toussled head and said "Make that fucking DEEJAY Tara Reid".

And with that her career was launched.

"Oh my gawwwwwd. At first I was just doing it to piss the DJ guy off but then I saw the record players and stuff and I was like 'Fuck this noise. I can do this shit. This guy isn't shit. I can DJ better than him and all these fucking fuckers in here and I just starting playing that shit and the music was all BAAAAA NAAAA NAAAA WAUM WAUM WOOM WOOM packchickshhbakkachikkachikshh DOOT DOOT DOOT! and I was all like 'WOOOOOOOOOOO' and the people were all like 'WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO' and I was all 'FUCK YEAH! SOMEONE GET ME A DRINK!' and then Paris started dancing on the table and rubbing her crotch on guys faces and - Are you fucking listening to me? And then slapping them if they started getting into it and then... Where the fuck are my shoes? Anyway, I was so fucking good at that shit that I had my bodyguards take all the records and stuff when I was done cos that chump motherfucker wasn't gonna need it anymore. His ass is finished in this town! Yeah, and now I'm gonna do a fucking tour. How many movie stars are also DJs? Fuckin no-one! I'm cornering the market on this shit. I'm gonna use it cross market thing panties with little records on them and my own brand of energy drink. Gawd I'm hot. No. Really. I'm fucking getting myself hot now. Could you like, leave? Oh and get me a Pelligrino... WITH VODKA!"

Check your local club for dates.

10/3/05 01:04 pm - aeric_7734

*From Variety Magazine*


Perfect Stranger's star Mark Linn-Baker has announced his intention of publishing his diaries in book format (Harper House Books will be picking up the tab on this one), late yesterday on E! The diaries cover for the majority the entire span of the hit TV series Perfect Strangers, which ran from 1986 to 1993 on ABC. Cancelled due to falling ratings after a seven year run, the actor's journal also covers his time between projects. Below are several excerpts from these much anticipated journals:

May 15, 1988
Today on the set, Bronson was so high on coke I had to remind him to wipe his nose before he went out... I wonder if the audience will ever notice how fucking inebriated we are when we do this show. I mean, man, take Bronson for instance, the guy's insane. Prostitutes in and out of his dressing room, he spends like $700 a day on coke, and when we're out there in front of the camera, most of what he says isn't even scripted. Those Nielsen families eat this shit up, though, because we're knocking on the door of the third year of this horrible show.

April 9, 1985
I got a casting call this morning... some new sitcom on ABC called Perfect Strangers. I guess it's about a guy who moves to the big city, and his crazy long lost cousin from this island in the Mediterranean comes to live with him in Chicago. Some guy named Bronson Pinchot will be playing the cousin, but my agent assures that after seeing my work on the Doonesbury musical, the network guys are calling me a shoe-in for the other guy. I need work so bad. I had to dine and dash at Denny's yesterday because I couldn't afford to pay for my Moons Over Mi-Hammy.

October 27, 1986
So we're done shooting the first season for PS. Jesus christ does time fly or what? I never even thought the pilot would cut the mustard, but those guys in corporate are eating this shit up. If they only knew that Bronson was adlibbing the entire time he's out there, and I'm so addicted to Valium it's not even funny. It's amazing what stardom will do to you. I'll be walking to 7-11 and people will be like, "Hey! Cousin Larry can I get your autograph? Can you introduce me to Balki? Oh man, those chicks on that show are hot!" Sometimes I'll tell them that Bronson and I will get together and do rails of cocaine off Melanie and Rebecca's asses before tag teaming them in my Laurel Canyon apartment. They either get this jealous look or become disgusted, but either way they still wait for the autograph before they leave.

June 16, 1993
Well, the last show is coming up. I guess when a sitcom's had as good a run as we have, the network can't just stop airing it at a whim. That's definitely a good thing, because I need to get paid bad. I don't know wha's going to happen with me, but Bronson has already agreed to play the lead role in some show called the Trouble with Larry or something like that. Of course that's contingent on whether or not he gets through the Betty Ford program okay. Knowing Bronson, it's going to be tough. It pretty much pisses me off, though, because they didn't even consider giving me a show. Sure, Bronson's funny, but I know I can act, I wish I could score a role in one those John Grisham movies they keep putting out, so I could really showcase my skill. Oh well, whatever happens will happen... at least they offered a couple cameos in that show of Bronson's, that'll be a little money in my pocket.

This compilation of journal entries is sure to reach Best Seller status, and we look forward to seeing more of Mr. Mark Linn-Baker in the future. Since the publishing deal was announced he has already agreed to play the role of Charles Foster Kane in the Jerry Bruckheimer produced remake of the Orson Welles classic, and he is currently headlining Broadway with his solo rendition of Cats.

9/30/05 01:00 pm - rolandjd800 - Sharis

Image hosted by Photobucket.com

Larry Curtis. Founder of Shari's. The David Lynch of family chain restaurants. A poor man's Judge Ed Koch from People's Court. I salute you.

The food is completely modular, like legos or the moog synthesizer. Just how the Greeks thought everything on earth was made of the four elements earth, wind, fire, water, every Shari's menu item must include either pancakes, eggs, a hamburger patty, or Buffalo sauce. Case in point #1:
Image hosted by Photobucket.com
It's a hamburger with a fucking egg on it. Come on! Did they just make this thing to piss Jews off? At least they didn't make a burger with 2 pancakes as the buns.

Their World Famous Homemade Pies aren't exactly top notch either. Image hosted by Photobucket.com
Marshmallows, graham crackers, jello pudding mix? That's not a pie, that's what your 10 year old niece brings to a potlock to say "I made this all by myself" and everyone's heart just melts from the cuteness. A restaurant shouldn't be able to pull this off, they might as well sell pop tarts and eggo waffles.

I think also there's a subconscious warning that goes off in people head about the building shape.
Image hosted by Photobucket.com
What would happen if a Shari's went out of business? In a way, I think we keep going here because if it went out of business we wouldn't want to see the world's first six sided funeral home in our home town. If a dentist opened an office in an old Shari's wouldn't that just creep you out? It's like a chubby white girl getting the Halle Berry haircut, it just doesn't cut it.

That's it for now, Sharis has been on my mind lately.

9/30/05 09:53 am - aeric_7734

Last night on Sci/Fi I was watching one of the worst movies I've ever seen, and I have no idea where to begin with how bad it was, except to say that for something produced in the new millenium, it looked straight out of 1993. Anyway, the lead actress was really familiar and it kept bothering me because I couldn't figure who she was, until the commercial break I channel surfed and ran across a Marilyn Manson video on MTV or MTV2 or VH1 or Fuse (regardless), so of course seeing MM I automatically thought of Paul from the Wonder Years, and like a ton of bricks I realized who the actress was, Winnie Cooper. And yes, she's still hot.

Now in regard to drukore's previous post regarding Sir Richard Stabone, I started to IMDB some things, and for some reason got confused and though for a moment that Step By Step's Sasha Mitchell was somehow related to Andrew Koenig... well, he's not, but besides co-starring with the great Patrick Duffy, Sasha Mitchell has starred in a host of Kickboxer spinoffs, and this gem right here (forgive my cut-and-pasting, but this summary of Class of 1999 II is too classic to pass up):

In this sequel to the 1990 move "Class of 1999", the future is still a violent metropolis where gangs rule the hallways and themes like education and higher learning are a mere memomry. Jenna McKensie is a young, sweet high school teacher who witnesses the killing of one of her students by lethal gang member, Sanders. Jenna wants to testify, but Sanders isn't about to let this woman put her in jail by a long shot. So to keep her mouth shut, Sanders and his thugs decide to intimidate her with threats and even going as far as to try to rape her. The principal cannot suspend Sanders without definite proof of wrong doing, the cops have no evidence and Jenna's boyfriend Emmett wants to put Sanders in his place himself, but Jenna doesn't want him to do that. Jenna starts to question as to whether or not suspending Sanders will improve the educational system or not. Enter John Bolen, a stone faced substitute teacher who is not predisposed with putting up with crap like his fellow faculty members are. John is definitely a teacher who belives in discipline...extremely strict discipline. When students are out of line to the point where the principal can't control them, John takes it upon himself to show student's the meaning of the term "Out of School Suspension". Because if you're rotten to the core, John will personally make sure that you never set foot in his classroom or anyone else's ever again. Jenna acutally takes a liking to the silent substitute and feels she has found a friend who is willing to listen to her problems. John teaches Jenna that students should not be allowed to gain control of any situation in the classroom and that she must have a firm hand when it comes to teaching students. When Sanders and his gang try again to harm Jenna, John shows up in the nick of time and defends her from harm. Apparently, John can see that Sanders and his crew have no respect for the faculty and so John decides to ex out his gang members one by one. Then, Emmett and the local sheriff learn that an ex-C.I.A. operative named Gordon Ash is in town and is tailing John. It turns out that John isn't an ordinary teacher afterall: it seems that he is the last of a group of cybernetic fighting machines who are reprogrammed to teach students and those who misbehave are to be strongly disciplined. And it just so happens, that Sanders and his group are at the top of John's "Termination" list. But then, something screws around with John's mainframe and pretty soon, he's targeting almost everyone for termination, even Jenna. Can Jenna find a way to stop her protector before he demolishes the whole school?

9/29/05 02:22 pm - aeric_7734

It's true, we haven't yet grown to the multitude of mebers I intend this community to acheive, however, I am noticing a lack of any posting on any regular basis, and this includes one of our moderators. May I refer you to rule number 7 (unless you have not fulfilled the rquirements in rule #1). Thank you.

Might I also add, that it occurred to me today that were I to find a full grown human being less than 12 inches tall, it might possibly be the coolest thing ever. I would totally kidnap that shit and make him wear old school GI Joe figures clothes.

9/27/05 06:23 pm - randomonionring - Since we're posting classics...

Here's my blast from the past submission.

P.S. I enjoy this one, too.

9/27/05 07:25 am - aeric_7734

An olde classic.

9/26/05 11:42 pm - aeric_7734

So today, on my way to be as metal as maetal can be, I stopped by a friend's place. He happens to live out of a Budget Suites down the street from my house, and when I say down the street, I mean waaaaay down the street. But down the street nonetheless. Anyway, in my haste to get on with the "show" I apparently made the mistake of parking in a handicapped spot. That was stupid. Because sure enough my car got towed. I figured out where it got towed to, and whilst waiting for another comrade in metal arms to arrive on the scene to hopefully save the day, My friend James and I sat in his suite watching MTV2's Video Honeys on mute with subtitles for the hearing impaired while listening to some seriously black metal. Like so black you know you're going to hell just for listening to it metal. Evil beyond any other music that could be considered evil. With band members that look like this:

If not even more extreme... anyway, our ride finally shows up and we embark on the journey to the wastelands of North Las Vegas in order to get the red demon Hyundai out of impound. The further north we get the more uncomfortable I'm feeling and the soothing sounds of-

-aren't really aiding in my my feeling any more comfort (go on, try and read that logo... you can't, I know it, because neither can I and I'm one of the most metal motherfuckers on the fucking planet). We get on road that supposedly this impound place is located... and pretty much end up driving back and forth between Cheyanne and Lake Mead over and over agin, until we see, in dark red splendour spray painted on a fence next to what looked to be a back alley of doom. You know those back alleys that have the appearance that if you drive down it you might never be heard from again. Yeah, one of those. So we of course drive down the alley, and pull up in what looks like the front yard of the mutant family in the movie Wrong Turn starring her hotness Eliza Dushku. Broken down cars everywhere you can see, big fucking chain link fence with holes in it surrounding the entire establishment, and I might also mention that the establishment was really nothing more than a shanty. So we get out of the car and hanging from a noose on the gate to oblivion beyond which my car lay, we were greeted by this:

Except you're going to have to picture that same enormous teddy bear having it's feet and paws dismembered. With cotton leaking out like a giant fluffy white scab... four of them. And it was wearing a shirt with the towing company's logo on it. I looked at my friends and they go, "We're waiting out here dude, you're totally on your own."

So I go inside, and after photocopying my ID they take me to my car, which means I have to walk through the garage, fully expecting Brad Pitt from Kalifornia to jump out of nowhere and hand me a gun screaming at me to "Shoot the dog, shoot the dog!" that or find a guy in a rubber apron dissecting unexplained meat products on a giant oak table. But none of that happened, although at first the guy taking me back there couldn't remember where he'd put my car.

All in all, an evening worthy of irony and low_brow standards, assuming you've seen Gummo, you might also be able to appreciate the type of people that were involved in my evening's highpoints. Now here I am, $150.00 poorer, but wiser for it. Moral of the story, unless you're really handicapped, don't park in a handicapped space unless you want to negotiate with insane tow truck drivers in a business that more resembles a place where Guido might go to saw up Tino before burrying the disassembled body out in the middle of the desert.
Powered by LiveJournal.com