Today in Crazy US Weekly Guy News: the demon drink

Crazy US Weekly Guy 

Don’t know if you’ve been following the internet drama over at Gawker, but it’s reached DefCon 3 and is heating up faster than John Hinckley at a Freaky Friday matinee. I referred to Crazy Us Weekly Guy once before, with fervent hopes this wasn’t a short, but would turn out more like the LOTR of the Internet, with Jessica in the part of Arwen and C.U.W.G. as Aragorn. I think Janice Min is Denethor, but it’s hard to tell.

In any case, the whole saga has bypassed Middle Earth entirely, and has quickly washed up on the seamy shores of Trees Lounge. No three hour tour, this. Buckle up, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

A dainty slice from the 200-page potroast  of a document which he sent Gawker:

in us weekly, issue 5/15/06, on page 38 is an ad for absolut vodka. on the next page (page 39), is jessica alba.

the first message is:

jessica alba sol = jessica alba soulmate.

the second message is in the word vodka. MIT (a school famous for science, which i will explain the significance of later) makes their “u’s” look like “v’s.” because of this, “u” and “v” are interchangeable.

“k” is short for “okay.”

“a” is the 1st letter of the alphabet

therefore, the word vodka, becomes the message:

do, ok?, u 1 =

“i do. you’re the one, okay?”

look at the word ABSOLUT [vodka]:Absolut bullshit, really

Tee is what you hit a golf ball off of, jessica golfs
U = you
ABS = absolute

so the message becomes “you and t (=jessica) absolute soulmates”
the ad for the absolut vodka, is on page 38. this is no accident. this is kind of a joke between me and god, that it is going to take 3.8 seconds for jessica to say yes “i want to marry you.”

this is an aside, i’ve been working on my proposal for a while, and first i had the idea of being married to jessica after several years of dating. then years became months, months became days, then days became hours. then hours became one hour. then i thought to myself “why can’t i make it instantaneously?” god told me then “1 minute.” then one minute became a few seconds, then finally god said “3.8 seconds.” this number comes up frequently, and it refers to winning over a person (in this case jessica, my soulmate) at the speed of light.

the fact that a bottle of vodka is on page 38 (=3.8 seconds) is a clear sign to me, that my affect on jessica alba will be intoxicating – a bottle of vodka!

and now, i’m planning on making it instantaneously, “yes!” even less than 3.8 seconds.

lastly, and this is cute, on the ad for the vodka bottle is the word “proof.” as in god is offering some proof to the world.

And so on…

Human Space Invaders

I have to say, these guys are better than I ever was. But then, there are 67 of them! Personally, I’d have differentiated between space invaders and our guys in the credits, but that’s just my Manichean side poking out.

From BoingBoing:

Chico rocks out on YouTube

From BoingBoing. As a YouTuber noted, it’s great to see somebody having that much fun doing his job. Chico is everyone’s second favorite Marx Brother, but when it comes to the piano, there is just no contest.

The Streaker Guy

The Streaker Guy 

Date: Monday, November 11, 2002 2:31 AM

I was shopping at Sunrise Market, as I am wont to do when I need food, which is usually, so there I was on the outside around the corner, where the food is all marked with a red dot in some kind of ink that just can’t be good for you, to tell the cashier it is old and cheap. I imagine all the undotted peppers and cabbages on the inside look down on their dotty relations, but maybe they don’t, knowing that in the fullness of time they’ll either be chosen by some happy shopper, stolen by a junkie, or end up dotty themselves and so think: there but by the grace of God go I. Maybe. I mean it’s possible, right? Who the hell knows what broccoli thinks?

So there I am, looking at the zucchini of all things and comparing, because you don’t want to get stuck with a limp zucchini and even among the dotty ones there’s still a lot of choice. Just check out the bar at Dick’s on Dick’s at closing time. So I’m checking out the zucchini and someone runs past me at top speed and whips into the side door between the strawberries and the avocados, the one that leads to the meat. And I continue merrily and obliviously shopping along the side, strolling slowly until I reach an impasse: a Filipina, laughing her head off. Really, it looks like she will shake something loose that may be hard to put back on if she keeps it up.

“Did you see?”

“See what?”

The NAKED GUY! AHAHAHAHAHAHA! He ran in there! HAHAHAHAHAHA! HEEHEEHEEHEE!” and so on.

“Naked guy?”

“Yes, hahahaha,” I think she finds my obliviousness even funnier than the naked guy. “He was all naked and he ran very quickly in the door.”

By this point even the grim and silent grizzled men who sweep up all day around the market are doubled up with their hands on their knees, whooping and hawing and having the time of their lives, or at least the last ten years.

At this point he returns.

THE RETURN OF THE NAKED GUY

Screams of laughter come from the front of the store, as he shoots out the front door and comes back along the side. We are special; we get two showings for the price of one. Well, it is the sale aisle.

As he runs past me he yells, “I’m the Streaker Guy!

and who could argue with that?

Black Bush

With Bush‘s real-life, slightly muffled and demi-masticated “Shit” (mp3) making headlines, we would like to present an alternative view of the presidency. There’s a reason it’s called black humour. In the meantime, would someone please tell him to close his mouth when he’s chewing and swallow before speaking? I’m sure Tony Blair knows all about the benefits of American dentistry, and doesn’t need to conduct an inspection at the dinner table.

Oh, and as I noted on Gawker, Shrub can at least keep it down once he’s swallowed, a talent which famously escaped his father.