I’ve never seen photos of a happy child on Santa’s lap or the Easter Bunny’s, but a Unicorn makes everyone happy…
Yeah, until he takes his mask off and you realize he’s wearing another under it, and that one is made of human skin…
Need some brainwash? Here is cute little Canuck Ellen Page juggling citrus fruits. In Canada, a grapefruit can marry an orange and then the taxpayers have to pay for their seeds to be planted. It’s true. It’s a FACT.
Not to point out the obvious, but has anyone else noticed that the oxytocin rush associated with New Parenthood often results in complete failure of perspective? If I didn’t know better, I’d swear this was ripped from a Kate Hudson/Steve Martin movie. And maybe, some day, it will be.
While we’re dwelling on that (un)happy thought, here are our gossip links for your perusal. I would have put them up yesterday, but apparently Vancouver got kicked off the internet before I got that done.
Pretty much. Oh, you have your Rebecca Blacks. You have your Posh Spices. But you could have a whole Spice Rack of untalented songbirds, put them all together, and they still wouldn’t sound anywhere near as bad as this:
That is the immortal Jonathan Edwards on piano, accompanying his showstopper of a vocalizing wife, Darlene, performing the Bee Gee’s greatest tune, Stayin’ Alive. That’s “vocalizing” like Siamese cats vocalize when you slam their tales in car doors. And you have Bunk Strutts to thank for the fact that I have a new favorite musical act.
Jonathan and Darlene Edwards, explained. Sorta
Jonathan and Darlene Edwards will always work. Some people have no tolerance for failed art. It just gives them goosebumps. The enlightened mind, however, has boundless appreciation for an artist putting him/herself out there and failing spectacularly. Even though the Edwardses (real names: were Jo Stafford and Paul Weston) were perfectly functional pro musicians (he pianoed while she sang), they are remembered now for acting clueless. The tragedy of artistic failure is deeply funny to me – even when faked – and it takes an artist of great courage to pretend they are completely inept. Apart from music like this, such failure can be found in Mystery Science Theater and various portfolio submissions from job applicants, but for differing reasons.
Jonathan and Darlene were truly underappreciated in their own time, despite a grammy win in 1960, but enjoyed a late renaissance in the Seventies with the release of this epic effort, along with the very of-its-time “I Am Woman.”
Yes, it’s that very special time on the blog: the time when we dump all our celebrity links for the day because we are too lazy/stressed/drunk/busy to do a real, proper 250 words for you. So hold your nose and swallow like a good little media consumer! YAY CELEBUTARDS!
Speaking of which, here’s an adorkable little video of children reacting to Rebecca Black‘s immortal musical meisterwerk, Friday.
“I know it’s the thought that counts, but…the money counts too!”
Normally, as you know, I am so NOT all about the self-conscious hipsters (apologies: I repeat myself) particularly those of ironic eyewear, but in this case I must give it up to Mister Paul Rudd, who suggests that on your birthday, you ask your friends to donate your age in dollars to the Cancer Society. Now, this may well bankrupt my friends, but you, according to Quantcast, are younger, and you should be doing this. I mean, if they spend that money on PBR you’re just gonna have a beer belly and a hangover to show for it the next day, right? Whereas fighting cancer provides a glow which makes one irresistable to the opposite sex (as several cancer fakers of my acquaintance know and have taken advantage of, and don’t worry, I’ve taken care of them in ways they don’t even know yet).
Am I ranting? Oh, let me rant. I beat cancer: I’m entitled to rant a bit. If you’re feeling ranty right along with me, here are some infuriating, medically-themed gossip links for you to read and ensure that your blood pressure remains elevated. If you get angry enough, it even counts as aerobic!
raincoaster 