Wally and Molly Up In a Tree...

This is a picture of Wally, a little green stuffed animal who sits in his own little adirondack chair and watches Red Sox games from the press booth. He's apparently part of the New England Sports Network broadcast team of Jerry "Rem-Dawg" Remy and Don Orsillo. One of the things I've loved most about moving back here is that the Red Sox are on television every day. Remy and Orsillo are a great team, and they've quickly become my second favorite baseball broadcast team (behind Jon Miller and Joe Morgan).

If you get a chance to watch a game on NESN and they show the broadcasters during the game, look between them. Wally is roughly the size of a beanie baby and his chair is made to fit, so you might not notice him at first. It took me several games to realize he was there. Though the broadcasters are probably sick of him, New England kooks have taken to him and send him scarves and hats and all kinds of crap.

What caught my eye the other day was that Wally was in his usual spot, but next to him was a splash of bright yellow hair. It looked as if there might be a love interest for Wally. Wurfing at work one day after that, I went to Jerry Remy's Website and sure enough, they've come up with a girlfriend for Wally. Her name is Molly.

On Rem-Dawg's website you can buy your own Wally, and your own Molly, and your own little adirondack chair for them. The picture that advertises Molly's arrival in the store, though, is a bit disturbing. Here it is, and like the picture of Phil Spector's hair, it didn't need any help from me. Personally, I think she may be a little bit fast for our young Wally. Not that he seems to mind.

This Song Is Not a Rebel Song...

Last night Mrs. Village Idiot and I went to see U2 at the Fleet Center* in Boston. (I know, it's not actually called the Fleet Center this week).

It was the best concert I've been to in a long time.

Before going into any details, let me give a shout out of much thanks to our babysitters for making the whole evening possible. You know who you are.


Bono tries the old Pull my finger gag

Some random thoughts and notes:
-Former Vice President Al Gore and his lovely wife were there. The crowd around us was all a twitter right before U2 came out. Being idiots, we stood up to see what all the fuss was about and there's Al and Tipper, smiling and happy and ready to rock.
-In a much bigger deal, a couple of minutes later, the crowd again was all a twitter, only this time it was New England Patriots linebacker Tedy Bruschi, who wound up sitting in our row. For those of you who aren't football fans or aren't Patriot fans, Bruschi is pronounced "Brew-ski" which means that this guy has the coolest name in the history of professional football.
-Rumor has it that Steven Tyler from Aerosmith and his lovely daughter Liv were also in the crowd, but we didn't see them.

The show totally rocked.
-They played most of their best songs, the sound was awesome and the crowd was very much into it. The stage is small but has an egg-shaped walkway that members of the band occasionally strolled around, so they were pretty close to where we were sitting. The stage, lighting and special effects were all good, but the best technical part of the show was the sound. They were very loud but were also very clear. The Edge's various guitar sounds are remarkable, especially the percussive quality he got out of a Fender Telecaster on Sunday Bloody Sunday.

-Mrs. Idiot has been a U2 fan for over twenty years. She reported that her favorite part of the concert was seeing that the band has aged. Bono, for example, looked great but looked his age. When he skipped around the egg-shaped stage, he looked a little pudgy, and when he took off the rock-star sunglasses a couple of times he looked a tired and haggard around the eyes. Mrs. Village Idiot was very pleased to see that her rock idol has aged along with her, and that his ass has spread over the years just as it should. (As opposed to Mick Jagger who looks to be in better shape than any human should ever be and Paul McCartney who has looked the same since the 1970s).

-I did have a problem with the show in that there are obviously either musicians offstage playing synthesizer and guitar parts or there are recorded music samples that are being played along with the band. I'm ok with a band like U2 using recorded parts or extra musicians, but there should be some mention of it somewhere. I mean, look what happened when Milli and Vanilli didn't come clean.

-There's a "cell phone moment" when the crowd is supposed to text their names to a certain number and join the band's world relief organization, and then hold their cell phones over their head. This was troubling to me, who grew up going to concerts where people held lighters over their heads. The effect is the same, though the eerie glowing blue-green cell phone screens seem a little more sci-fi than rock concerts should. Mrs. Idiot and I had a "senior moment" during the "cell phone moment" as we've never really sent text messages through the phones and had significant trouble with the process, especially as we were well into the beer supply by then.

All in all, despite our idiocy, it was a great time. See them if you can!

Set list:
City of Blinding Lights
Vertigo
Elevation
Gloria
The Ocean
Beautiful Day
Miracle Drug
Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own
Love and Peace or Else
Sunday Bloody Sunday
Bullet the Blue Sky
Running to Stand Still
Pride in the Name of Love
Where the Streets Have No Name
One

The Fly
Until the End of the World
With or Without You
Out of Control

All Because of You
Original of the Species
Bad
(The crowd closed the show by singing "40")

Have You Seen Phil Spector's Hair?

I'm not above the occasional Photoshop trickery with photographs, but a recent picture I saw of Phil Spector's hair really defies words, let alone photoshop manipulation.
Here it is:

Few mortals can pull off a 'fro of this magnitude

After I recovered my wits, it hit me. I knew I'd seen that 'do before;

Our Stellar Weather Continues

Here's the actual Yahoo Forecast for my little corner of the globe.



Here's something from the Boston Globe today:

Psychologists say the dark weather can trigger a minor
''seasonal affective disorder" that may manifest itself in
oversleeping, (yep, got that)
irritability, (oh yeah, got that too, buttmunch)
a lack of motivation, (well, that's normal)
and general annoyance not only with the ribbons of gray in the sky but
with colleagues, fellow commuters, and family members. (yep, yep, yep and yep).

I wondered why it was getting harder and harder to get around to putting cover sheets on my TPS reports at work, turns out it's weather related. Thank God that Friday is Hawaiian shirt day.

Go here and read this....

This guy's site is a riot.
The History of My Mullet is a short photo essay on his dedication to the hairstyle known as a mullet. Each new page is a new year in the development of his mullet-tude Very funny stuff.

If you've got a few minutes after that, go to the mother of all Mullet sites, Mullets Galore

Rock on!

Voting Saddam Off the Island, Platform for King 2

One of those dusty old Roman guys said that all the people really want are “bread” and “circuses”. Personally speaking, I’d go for beer instead of bread, and a concert instead of a circus because I find most circuses to be cheesey and strangely depressing, but you get the idea. When I’m king I intend to fill your lives with all the fun and frivolity you can handle, (much of it reasonably priced thanks to massive sponsorship by the government). (My government will give away enough brew that I expect to be known as the “The King of Beers”).

As you know, it is my goal to unite the world under the banner of the Global Village Idiot. To do this, we need to do away with factions and divisions, or at least trivialize those factions and divisions until they’re no longer dangerous. For this, I plan on using the ultimate circus; television.

Let’s make a reality television show in which members of Congress have to battle it out Survivor style. The winner gets a million bucks, and his or her party gets ten extra votes in Congress. Let’s do a Fear Factor in which each of the contestants represents a political organization. I’d love to see representatives from PETA, Greenpeace, the NRA and all the rest of them go toe to toe. The winner gets a million bucks and one piece of legislation of their choice enacted. I’m very much in favor of upping the ante in the challenges. Stinging jellyfish and cranky sharks should be added to the swimming challenges, and contestants will have to navigate the obstacle courses while being chased by armed thugs. Currently Charlton Heston makes much political noise about getting his gun pried out of his cold dead hand, well, let’s see him take that risk on the new show “Celebrity Sniper Challenge.”

We can also do the same for religions. How about a year of game show inspired contests to settle the differences between Palestine and Israel? The winning country gets to occupy the West Bank for a year and the losing country gets lovely parting gifts. Next year we’ll do it again, stay tuned!

We have far too many people in this world willing to strap dynamite to themselves as an exercise in political or religious debate. This is unacceptable behavior in my kingdom. When I’m king, we will settle disputes with a rousing game of “Family Feud” or “The Price Is Right”. We need to chill a lot of people out and I can’t think of a better way than a steady diet of eight or ten hours of mind-numbing television. The King will be providing free big-screen tv’s to many many people very early in his administration…

I’m not trying to stifle debate, no, I’m trying to stifle explosions. In the kingdom, I’ll encourage my subjects to blog about everything. If you go stumbling around the current internet reading random blogs like I do, you’ll find that an incredible, and I do mean incredible, amount of typing goes into yelling about what a bunch of idiots one’s political opponents are. “Liberals” and “Conservatives” spend hours and hours and hours coming up with and then typing clever rants and tirades to publish on their blogs, and they actually expect people to read them. Generally, I think these posts go unread, except in a couple of scenarios:

Scenario 1: Joe Liberal publishes a brilliant post about what a bunch of lame dumbasses conservatives are. Billy Conservative, looking for fodder for his article about what lame dumbasses the liberals are, reads Joe’s post to get quotable quotes to rip apart for his own blog.
The two keep cross posting until they
a) discover better things, like NFL football or sex, and give up blogging
b) digress into personal attacks, realize no one is actually reading their posts, go back to blogging about how cool it would be to do Mr. Spock’s Vulcan Death Grip.
c) digress into personal attacks and wind up stalking and killing each other. This would be bad, but unlikely, as the politically wonkish are not a violent type. Generally speaking they would be more likely to stalk each other and get into a wild slap fest using folded copies of the Wall Street Journal.

Scenario 2: Freddy Conservative publishes brilliant posts about how smart conservatives are and how dumb liberals are. Howard Republican just started a Blog about the very same thing, and he desperately wants readers and links, so he pretends to read Freddy’s site and leaves thoughtful comments in an attempt to generate a following of his own. They link to each other and to other conservative blogs and create a happy festivus of conservative bloggers who don’t really read each other but who are united in their agreement that liberals, whatever their stripe, are all dumbasses.

See, the above scenarios provide for an acceptable and officially sanctioned political debate and no one got blown up. Cubs and Cardinals, Red Sox and Yankees, Lakers and Everyone; these will be the rivalries that should serve as models for all our rivalries. People can start “We love the King” blogs and “We Hate the King” blogs and “We like the idea of kings but hate this particular jackass” blogs. (And, based on the current trends, there will be a lot of blogs about people’s dogs, and even more blogs about their friggin’ cats). At the end of the day my loyal subjects will turn off their computers and tune in to an evening of riveting television, far too concerned about who will win this week’s installment of “Whack a Celebrity Mole” to want to blow anything up.

Yet another major world problem solved before lunch. This job will be cake.

Building the Ark...

Here's the actual weather forecast for my area:



After all the rain we've had over the past couple of months, though, here's how most of us actually see it:



Actually, as a result of this lovely weather forecast and the fact that my Music Blog was spammed by those cheesey internet spam people, I've come up with a couple of important pieces of policy for when I'm King of the World:

1) Intentionally spamming people, whether it be through e-mail, message boards, blogs, newsgroups or whatever, is punishable by death.

2) All judges will sentence the convicted on Mondays, before noon.

Problem Flatulence a Problem No More!

Technology On The March-

I think we've all probably been in a situation where we know we are about to seriously befoul the air around us.

In public places, the Village Idiot usually employs the technique known crop dusting, which is to say that he walks briskly whilst expelling the offending gas in his wake. This is a great technique in that the one who dealt it gets to put several yards of distance between himself and those who will become the ones who smelt it.

One must be very careful when cropdusting up the aisle of airplanes, buses and other closed spaces. If it's a particularly rank bouquet, you may well tip your hand as he that cut the cheese as row after row of people experience the wonder that is you and visibly react. They may be waiting for you on your return trip. For the true idiots out there, cropdusting is a stealth operation. If you're tooting and honking your way down the aisle your fellow travelers will definitely be waiting for you when you return.

As amusing as cropdusting may be, the other day I found on the internet a technological marvel that will make everyone's airplane rides much more enjoyable, the personal fart absorbing seat cover. The amazing part is that there are at least two companies that produce these things, and that seems to be all they sell.
Here is the site for the maker of the cushion shown below, and here is Flat-D, the #1 name in flatulence odor control. When I'm king, airlines will hand these out as you board the plane.


discreet, eh?

There you have it, another public service message from Kicked Puppies.

Found These While Wurfing

Merriam-Webster had a contest in which people could submit their favorite words that aren’t in the dictionary. “Ginormous” was the winner, and as that is one of my all-time favorite non-words, I had to read the article. (it’s here).

Some of my favorites from the list and from the articles that surround it:

Flusterpated (adj) a state of being flustered that's so intense, one's actions and words become bound up
furgle (v): to feel in a pocket or purse for a small object such as a coin or key
ginormous (adj): bigger than gigantic and bigger than enormous
cognitive displaysia (n): the feeling you have before you even leave the house that you are going to forget something and not remember it until you're on the highway
confuzzled (adj): confused and puzzled at the same time
phonecrastinate (v): to put off answering the phone until caller ID displays the incoming name and number
slickery (adj): having a surface that is wet and icy
gription (n): the purchase gained by friction: "My car needs new tires because the old ones have lost their gription."
Troddle (v) to wander around without knowing of doing so
wurfing (v): the act of surfing the Internet at work and rationalizing that it is for work purposes
onionate (v): to overwhelm with post-dining breath
espacular (adj): especially spectacular
spatulate (v): remove cake batter or other substances from the side of a mixing bowl with a spatula
optotoxical (adj): of or pertaining to poisonous looks that could kill, esp. from a spouse
smushables (n): the groceries that must be packed at the top of the bag or separately to avoid being mangled by the time you get home
pregreening (v): the tendency to creep forward while waiting for a red light to change
vidiot (n): one inept at programming a VCR
precuperate (v): prepare for the possibility of being ill
fumb (n): the large toe
sprummer (n) when spring and summer can't decide which is going to come first—hot one day, cold the next
spinter (n): the season between winter and spring where everything is drowning in a slush/mud mixture
slush turtle (n): the snow that collects on your mud flap

News From The Top Shelf

The Idiot was a bit groggy this morning but was muddling through the day when the following headline created great confusion.

Rice Praises Creation of Iraqi Cabinet

At last," I thought, "happy news from the pantry!" Normally, the headlines from my kitchen are much less positive:
"Paprika Cites Years of Neglect"
"Study finds Sugar Containment Lacking"
"Dog Blamed in Cracker Mishap"
"Organized Crime Taskforce Investigates Barilla Dominance of Pasta Shelf"
"Strange Smell In Corner"
"Authorities Hunt for Cereal Killer" (my personal favorite)
"Oil, Vinegar Part Ways"

So I was the happy idiot, pleased that all was going well with life in the pantry when this headline popped up on Yahoo:

Rice Points Finger at Syria on Iraq Violence

Why can't we all just get along, and who knew rice had fingers?

The Campaign Express Derailed Again

Just as I sat down to scribble the next platform plank of my campaign to be king of the world, the following news stories fluttered down from the interweb. Being of small mind and short attention span, I had to follow these bright shiny objects of knowledge. I'll get to the platform someday, I promise.

Mars Rover Struggles to Escape Sand Dune
I once had this same problem on Spring Break. The Rover needs to realize he's stuck and just hunker down until the alcohol wears off. Panic and more alcohol will not help, believe me, I tried both. I sent a jaunty e-mail with the story of my sand dune stickage experience to NASA, and then went ahead and read the news story. This part caught my eye.

LOS ANGELES - The Mars rover Opportunity is facing its biggest challenge since it landed on the Red Planet last year: how to get out of a sand dune where it's been stuck for two weeks.

Now that's my kind of Rover! Party on, dude!

More from the world of science:
Scientists Create Self-Replicating Robot
Oh, this can't be good

Scientists at the Cornell University in Ithaca, New York have created small robots that can build copies of themselves."Although the machines we have created are still simple compared with biological self-reproduction, they demonstrate that mechanical self-reproduction is possible and not unique to biology," Hod Lipson said in a report in the science journal Nature on Wednesday.

Ok, I'm pretty sure this will lead to Will Smith having to save the world. I can't believe that anyone would vest someone named Hod with that much potential power.


Here's what congress has on its plate:

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - A life-like prosthetic penis called the Whizzinator and other products promising to help illegal drug users pass urine tests provoked U.S. lawmakers on Wednesday to take legal action with subpoenas of manufacturers.

I hope this is televised, I want to hear members of congress use the word "whizzinator". Yesterday's news had a story about Minnesota Vikings RB Onterrio Smith being stopped at the Twin Cities airport with the Whizzinator. According to Sports Illustrated:
A search of a bag Smith was carrying April 21 turned up several vials of dried urine and a device called "The Original Whizzinator," which includes a fake penis, bladder and athletic supporter.
I gotta say that Congress will be fighting a pisser of a battle here, because if they outlaw the Whizzinator, only the outlaws will have Whizzinators. (Does the war on drugs seem silly to anyone else out there, or is it just me?)


Note what the the field trip was supposed to teach:

HEBER CITY, Utah - Three children and an adult were treated for minor injuries after an empty, runaway railroad car crashed into the Heber Creeper, which was carrying pupils on a train safety field trip.

The headline says it all:
Pizza Delivery Ends Prison Siege

SYDNEY (Reuters) - An Australian prison siege ended Monday after a group of inmates agreed to release a guard they had held for two days in return for a delivery of pizzas, prison officials said.

How would you like to be that guard? he now knows exactly how many pieces of pepperoni his life is worth.


Another great headline:
Authorities Blow Up Small Refrigerator
I've often opened the old fridge at Chez Idiot and, surveying the landscape of molds stored in tupperware, felt that throwing out the whole unit would be easier than cleaning it out. I never dreamed of blowing it up! That must've been some seriously funky hamburger helper!


Haven't we all had days like this?
Ice Cream Vendor Punches Complaining Boy


Finally, headlines from the world of Michael Jackson.
Jackson says his chimp shared his toilet, had good table manners

What I Learned from that Runaway Bride Lady

Many of you probably heard about the lady who was recently listed as missing or abducted but who turned up later as a Runaway Bride. It was pretty big news for a few days. It really hit home for me.

As a reult of her case, and more specifically, that deer-in-headlights picture of her that was all over the news, I'm planning on going to Glamour Shots this afternoon. Once I get a good picture of yours truly, I plan on telling everyone that knows me that there is an official picture of the Village Idiot to be distributed to the media should anything newsworthy befall me.

I can't imagine being the subject of a neationwide manhunt with my gawdawful driver's license picture up there on the tv screen, or something ripped out of an old high school yearbook. Jennifer Wilbanks was obviously not thinking ahead when she had whatever brainfart that led to her fifteen minutes of fame and scuttled away from the altar. The Village Idiot will be prepared with a color glossy headshot of his choosing.

Don't let this happen to you!

Dunkin' Donuts Coffee: The New Crack

I am, as many of you know, an idiot. I am also new to blogging, and as such, I’ve been farting around the web reading other people’s blogs trying to get a clue as to what I’m supposed to be doing with this thing since my incredibly short attention span seems to have brought my campaign for king to a screeching halt.

Turns out that blogging is a form of journalism, and I’m supposed to be journalizing or something. Over the past couple of days I started multiple journalistic investigations, and I think I’m off to a good start. This issue of The Idiot Insider will focus on junk food in all its fatty goodness.

Item The First:
Dunkin’ Donuts Coffee may well contain crack cocaine. This is part of a long term investigation I’ve been doing since we moved. There is literally a Dunkin’ Donuts on every corner here, and I’m doing my best to visit each and every one. In the past six months I’ve had roughly 1,756,219 cups of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. I’m not only not tired of the stuff, in fact, I’m not tired at all. I’m perky and bouncy and can’t wait for the next cup. I may pause the writing of this and drive to the nearest Dunkin’ Donuts and get another. Starbucks Schmarbucks.

Item The Second:
The person taking your order at the McDonald’s drive-thru is probably standing inside the McDonald’s. I know, I know, this seems obvious. You scream your order at the little plastic speaker shrine and a minute later you’re paying a person wearing a headset who appears to be taking the order of the person behind you, but you never know about these things.

You see, last Friday was poker night at the Chez Idiot and one of my neighbors, while participating in the monthly ritual known as fleecing the idiot, mentioned that he’d read that McDonald’s drive-thru orders got beamed to people in cubicles in Colorado. It’s more efficient, he said, because those people are more focused on taking the order and are less likely to screw it up. They’re also better at getting drivers to order more food or something. My other neighbors and I were stunned, and of course we immediately wondered why there are all those kids running around the local McDonald’s wearing headphones, but the original neighbor assured us that they’re talking to each other and the cubicle guy in Colorado, not to us.

Soon we were back on to more important topics, like which of the twenty-seven local Dunkin’ Donuts has the best coffee, and eating the fantastic batch of chili I made for poker night. (See, I told you I’d been farting around the web). I forgot all about it until I found myself at McDonald’s the next day.

Me (to plastic speaker shrine): Hi, uh, where are you?
Speaker Shrine: Excuse me?
Me: Um, Are you like in Colorado?
Speaker Shrine: No Sir, I’m here in New Hampshire, Are you Ok? Would You like to order now?

So I ordered and pulled up to the window and the very nice girl in the headphone again assured me that I was talking to her, not to a guy in a cubicle in Colorado. The look on her face as I offered my explanation as to why I was asking assured me that my license plate number was going into the McDonald’s drive-thru database of crazy people, and that she was really just hoping to get through the transaction without gunfire or nudity. I got my happy meals and skulked away, resolving to give up investigative journalism forever.

The good news in all this is that there is no Item the Third. I’ll leave the reporting to the pros, I’ll just copy and paste their funny stuff. For the sake of my readers, however, I will continue to research the Dunkin’ Donuts story, one cup at a time.

The War in Iraq Would Make a Great Country Song

Driving to work in the Idiot mobile this morning, it occurred to me that the War in Iraq would make a great country song. By the time I got to work I had most of it written, (which is remarkable, because I was also chugging down coffee, eating a donut, talking on my cell phone, diapering a baby and smoking some cigarettes while piloting my giant SUV). I made it safely to work, and after some furious typing and on the fly editing, have written my first country song.

What John Wayne Woulda Done
by me, the Village Idiot.
(All rights reserved, so no stealin!)

As I circled the ranch in my pick em up truck,
I was feelin all lowly and down on my luck
Cause that Saddam Hussein tried to kill off my daddy
which clued me right in that he was a baddy
I said to my dog as we drove through the night,
I’m gonna git him fer Pappy, as it’s perfectly right
For the son of a man to go shoot up the clown
who tried to shoot my Pappy down.

That’s the first verse, and I think I’m off to a heck of a start because I’ve already worked in several key country components; a pick-up truck, a dog, a ranch, a Pappy, and a revenge plot.

Here’s the chorus:

Oh I no longer chase women I no longer drink beer
But I still like them pretzels still can’t say “nuclear”
Yet I know it’s my job to git my revenge,
even if’n we go to alert lev’l orange,
Yes I know it’s the job of a red blooded son,
cause I know that it’s what ol’ John Wayne woulda done.

I’m especially proud of the chorus because I was able to rhyme the word “Orange” with “revenge”, and I managed to bring in two of the Holy Shrines of the country music lifestyle; beer and John Wayne.

As I said, I wrote this on the way to work, so I need to add a couple more verses. Here’s the last verse though. Though I don’t listen to much NPR and generally avoid conversation with people who do, I do know that our economic forecast is generally weak, which is why I’m glad I was able to get the last line in, which, based on what I know, seems to explain W’s entire plan for getting the economy back on track. Notice also that I was able to get a train into the song, which, combined with the dog, the beer, the John Wayne, the pick ‘em up truck, the word ‘gal’ and the revenge plot may qualify this tune for the country music hall of fame.

As that train whistle blows,
as my gal says goodnight
The ol’ deficit grows
but we still gotta fight
And though Saddam is in jail
and his country’s in tatters
We got lotsa spring sales, so go shopping, it matters.

The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved

35 years ago, Hunter S. Thompson published his great Kentucky Derby article.

HST, We Miss You

Today, George Steinbrenner's horse choked at the end of a very exciting Kentucky Derby and a humungous longshot won the race. Also today, the New York Yankees are in last place in the AL East. I suspect that the good Dr. Thompson, wherever he may be, is enjoying all of it.

Thompson's article on the Derby, The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved, is available in his collection of stories called The Great Shark Hunt. Just as Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas has very little to do with the Mint 500 race he was supposed to cover, Decadent and Depraved has very little horse racing coverage. It is, however, highly recommended by the Idiot.

Clicking on the book
will take you to Amazon.com

File this under "Ewwwww"

This morning, whilst shaving, I looked down to find that the cat was chewing on my toothbrush. The bristles. He was having a hell of time, gnawing away, making that “I’m a cat and I’m having a hell of time chewing on this thing” sound that cats make. I don’t know if he was drawn by the minty fresh Crest™ flavor or if he felt that his plaque build-up was getting him down, but he was definitely going to town on the business end of my Reach™ Opus V or whatever the hell that brush was.

Yes, whatever that brush “was”.
I don’t care if four out of five dentists say I could keep using that brush, it’s already gone. And I don’t want to know how long ago the Idiot Cat discovered the joys of oral hygiene, or at least discovered the joys of chewing on my damned tooth brush.

The problem is that the Reach™ Magnum Opus’ handle is too big for the hole in the top of the fancy toothbrush holder in the master bath. The holder could accommodate several toothbrushes, and in fact holds three (it never occurred to me until just now to wonder why there are three toothbrushes in the master bathroom toothbrush holder). Two of the three brushes fit into the holes and sit low in the cup as they should, safe from marauding cats. My brush, or I should say “my former brush”, the Rolls Royce of the toothbrush world, didn’t fit into the hole at all. In fact, just the very end of the handle fit into the hole, leaving the rest of the brush waving proudly in space and its poor bristles vulnerable to illicit mastication by any passing animal. Great.

I should also mention that in the ensuing melee of rescuing my brush (my former brush) from the cat, I kind of forgot to finish shaving. Yes, it looks like I’m wearing “the patch” on my neck. I guess I’ll tell people I’m trying to give up hair.

Mahna-mahna

The other day, Mrs. Village Idiot explained that she feels she would benefit from a good soundtrack.

She doesn't mean songs simply playing in the backgound, she means an actual soundtrack, like in a movie or cheesey television show.
Here she is typing, cue the "typing music". Here she is on the phone, cue the "serious phone call music". Here she is farting around on the internet, cue the "goofing off" music.

(I know, you all wish she wrote the blog, don't you. Tough, you're stuck with me).

I'm sure that she envisioned something edgy; a contemporary rock soundtrack filled with songs that are suitably artsy and yet raw with emotion. Sadly, she mentioned the idea to me, hoping for some suggestions.
I immediately offered up Mahna-Mahna, from the Muppet Show, as her theme song.
(Yeah, she hadn't heard of it either).

For those of you unfamiliar with the tune, here's a video.

In my search, I uncovered this gem also:


Needless to say, Mr. Village Idiot will be sleeping on the couch while Mrs. Village Idiot scours i-tunes for a theme song that suitably captures her majesty and grace. (Even the fact that the band Cake once covered the Mahnamahna song doesn't help).

I guess we're taking suggestions, though based on one of the comments a reader left on my Gov't Mule post, I suggest you avoid mention of any jam bands...

Oh, my gosh, they're talking about my burrito

The Village Idiot apologizes for not writing last week, but he was on vacation from his real job, which made him far too busy to screw around with the blog. (He now switches from that creepy third person narrative style, which he has also adopted around the house, making even the Idiot Dog uneasy).

Rain in Idiot Town brought out the worker bee in me and I got a whole bunch of stuff done around the house. Mrs. Idiot and I were also lucky to host some family visitors as well as a chum from the old country during the course of the week, so the idiot’s vacation was all good wholesome fun and productive hours spent sprucing up the homestead. Painting rooms, sawing and hauling wood, running errands and planting trees is invigorating, but provides very little in the realm of amusing writing fodder, other than to say that everything about painting sucks. I was afraid I would have to resort to listing my top three favorite songs of the moment* and trying to call that good enough, when this story came screaming at me from the interweb.

*John Butler Trio- Zebra
Trey Anastasio- Cayman Review
Chuck Prophet- Pin a Rose

School Mistakes Huge Burrito for a Weapon

A call about a possible weapon at a middle school prompted police to put armed officers on rooftops, close nearby streets and lock down the school. All over a giant burrito. Someone called authorities Thursday after seeing a boy carrying something long and wrapped into Marshall Junior High. The drama ended two hours later when the suspicious item was identified as a 30-inch burrito filled with steak, guacamole, lettuce, salsa and jalapenos and wrapped inside tin foil and a white T-shirt. State police, Clovis police and the Curry County Sheriff's Department arrived at the school shortly after 8:30 a.m. They searched the premises and determined there was no immediate danger.

Principal Dana Russell said the mystery was solved after she brought everyone in the school together in the auditorium to explain what was going on. "The kid was sitting there as I'm describing this (report of a student with a suspicious package) and he's thinking, 'Oh, my gosh, they're talking about my burrito.'" The burrito was part of eighth-grader Michael Morrissey's extra-credit assignment to create commercial advertising for a product."We had to make up a product and it could have been anything. I made up a restaurant that specialized in oddly large
burritos," Morrissey said.

So there you have it, this blog practically writes itself.