Category Archives: Fans

Boris Johnson’s Ping Pong Speech

Posted on by

Again I say: oh, Boris. Don’t ever change.

Boris Johnson, Mayor of London gives quite possibly the greatest Olympic speech ever made; quite certainly the most entertaining. But why didn’t he bring up Poodle Clipping? That was an Olympic sport!

“Virtually every single one of our international sports were either invented or codified by the British, and I say this respectfully to our Chinese hosts who have excelled so magnificently at ping pong,” he said in a tongue-in-cheek speech.

“Ping pong was invented on the dining tables of England in the 19th century and it was called wiff waff.

“There I think you have the essential difference between us and the rest of world.

“Other nations, the French, looked at a dining table and saw an opportunity to have dinner. We looked at a dining table and saw an opportunity to play wiff waff. That is why London is the sporting capital of the world.

“And I say to the Chinese, and I say to the world: ping pong is coming home.”

Text excerpt from Sander Cohen’s Muse

Sex Sells

Posted on by

The question is, are you buying?

I forsee different target markets for these two fine celebrity products:

Clay Aiken singing angel music box

Clay Aiken singing angel music box

Oh Come All Ye Faithful indeed. As someone said, this is an historic occasion: the only time Clay Aiken has ever been on top of a box.

The artist’s statement:

I thought about what the average Claymate might appreciate and after careful study, concluded that most are likely to be collectors of the sort of trinkets seen advertised in the back of Ladies Home Journal. There’s a good chance many of them own unicorn figurines, music boxes, frightening dolls, Disney trinkets, or something atrocious by Thomas Kinkade.

Seems logical enough.

Now, the market for the following is rather different. Looks like ScarJo here doesn’t have the net savvy of, say, a David Hasselhoff; she’s let a mangy old cybersquatter offer her up like Miley Cyrus on a platter to the reader who can send the filthiest email. Then again: it might be the real thing. We all know how she loves her email buddies!

Scarjo is ready when you are!

Scarjo is ready when you are!

Why They Call Them “Loonies”

Posted on by

Cthulhu Tentacles for Sale!

Oh, man GROSS! I knew there was a reason I didn’t like pool noodles.

Brian Atene: the backstory

Posted on by

This is his best yet, although it is entirely lacking in that trademark zany WTF-ness we’ve come to know and love (?). If you’ve ever wondered what was the point of Brian Atene, grab a bottle of Coppola Rosso and watch this. And not just because he namechecked me!

Ah, he took it down AGAIN: embedding disabled by request. Oh, fine, BE that way. Here’s the link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r0R93KZPM7U

Elvis is the Emperor!

Posted on by

I should explain.

I should explain, specifically, about the fangirl gene. I got the fangirl gene (I think The Sister escaped that particular fate, and much time and cash it has saved her, too, even though the first concert I went to was a Shawn Cassidy concert because my mother was damned if SHE was taking my sister to a Shawn Cassidy concert, but somebody had to; oh yes, and then there was the Starsky and Hutch phase she went through, and the Donny Osmond come to think of it but hey, Osmond could sing and there was precious little in the way of entertainment value in Wiarton, let me tell you OH and did I mention I asked Wiarton Willie to friend me on Facebook? We go back aways) from my mother.

My mother was the original Elvis fan.

It’s family legend, and probably truthful at that (rare in Irish families, it must be said, and it must be said, in fact, by none other than me) that when she worked at Eatons she told her boss she needed Tuesday off, because that was the day Elvis was coming to Ottawa and her boss said she couldn’t have Tuesday off, so she threatened to quit.

This is where I learned my work ethic as well, by the way.

She nearly divorced my father any number of times, the most serious of which was when they went down South for a trip and he did NOT take her to see Elvis, who was playing 20 minutes from where they were staying.

So, that’s where I get it. Apologies to (um, lessee…) Viggo Mortensen, Steve Jobs, Kenneth Branagh, Tony Blair, Bono, Kurt Cobain, Prince Caspian (circa Voyage of the Dawn Treader only), Mark and Jason from Battle of the Planets, Mister Spock, and the boys in The Wolves of Willoughby Chaseand The Little White Horse.

But I’m over that now.

No, really. Despite my occasionally slightly-more-enthusiastic-than-can-quite-pass-for-objective comments on Valleywag Steve Jobs posts. So over that.

In any case and anyway, here is something my mother would treasure: actual physical evidence that stars, or at least Elvis, transcend(s) time and space, manifesting here in a 2nd Century AD Roman bust:

Elvis isn't the King, he's the Emperor!