This is a capella group Straight No Chaser‘s version of the 12 Days of Christmas…remixed with a little 80’s flava. If you want to fast forward to the payoff, it’s all good but the real payoff starts about 1:58. You can tell because people start screaming, which is an unusual enough event at a barbershop choir event, however dapper they may look in their suits.
passed along in the help forums by Annette Fix
Beaver shots are, indeed, one of our evergreen subjects around these parts, although if yours is green I’d recommend that Monistat stuff or maybe some nutritious, low-cal cranberry and yogurt smoothies.
Ahem.
And so it is that, once again, we are posting about beaver. Well, everybody loves beaver, right? Why, it’s the national animal of Canada! But specifically today, we are posting about The Beaver.
The. Beaver.
The forbidden beaver!
For as our trusty allies at Defamer report, The Beaver is possibly the hottest, best, most popular thing in Hollywood right now, but even so, The Beaver can’t get a contract.
Sigh. How many times have we heard it, my friends? How many more times must we hear this sad tale of neglected beavitude?
From The Black List, a list of greatest unproduced screenplays:
1. THE BEAVER, Kyle Killen
Walter Black, a depressed toy manufacturer, loses his family and his business. But then Walter tries on a hand puppet — a chatty British rodent called ”The Beaver” — and his personality is transformed. It’s all good at first, but things turn ugly when the puppet won’t let go.
That, too, is a tale oft told. But ask any girl: Walter totally has it coming. You can’t pick up a discarded beaver, talk to it nice, fist it, and then expect to just walk away.
So there it was.
White. Bright. Practically dewy with freshness, dated Monday, December 8 2008 (I quadruple-checked the year)(which the literal-minded will note was not even technically the case in my time zone when I encountered it) sitting there on my monitor for all the world as if it were a regular article waiting patiently to be read, with a perky, amusing author bio in the sidebar looking as normal as all get out.
TMN Contributing Writer Leslie Harpold is a writer and designer with a long list of publications she’s marred with her work. She is working on a novel and dreams alternately of an über urban or ultra rural future, as she is not one to do things by halves. After misspending her 20s in New York City, Leslie now lives in Grosse Pointe, Mich. She makes pie crust from scratch.
Only, it wasn’t.
Normal.
Leslie Harpold, you see, has been dead for exactly two years today. [thanks to Wendie for the correction; I had it at one year. Freakouts are so fresh!] I remember her death particularly, because for several years friends had been telling me how much I, the Christmas nut, would love her annual online Advent Calendar. Which I’m sure I would have, only by the time I finally clicked around to it December 14th of 2006, it was frozen at the 7th. Which date it has been frozen on ever since, because December 7th was the last full day she was alive. She was found by friends several days after her death, in part because of curiosity generated by the failure to update her famous Advent Calendar.
So, naturally, the appearance of a brand-new and highly chipper-sounding article by the aforesaid deceased, most particularly exactly two years after her death and seasonal at that, rather freaked me out.
Mind you, it’s not the first time someone has blogged from beyond the grave.
I just wish they could manage it without:
See, this is why I need a laptop. So I don’t have to snarf the last half of my meal and RUN home, desperately trying not to jostle my brain and let all the golden eavesdrops fall out.
More or less verbatim, heard from my perch on the highly prestigious “booth side” of the Ovaltine, coming from the less-prestigious but more collegial Stud Row otherwise known as the “counter side” where all the old men sit.
In an unmistakably Black American voice:
Seventy-three years old. SEVENTY-THREE YEARS OLD! Know what they told me? They told me I have Diabetes. DIABETES! I need diabetes at seventy-three. I need it like I need a hole in the head. I’m gonna die anyway, hell, I’ve been dead for years. Been through four wars, got two bullets in my back. I died twice! Saw the lights and everything. A white South African brought me back last time, which just goes to show.
What? It shows you!
I was in four wars. I was in Vietnam. I was in Vietnam twice. It started back in the 1800’s. The south part of Vietnam is 98% Buddhist. 2% Catholic. The Catholics tried to take over the country.
God? God didn’t have nuthing to do with it. God? What’s God? I’ll tell you. I’ll TELL you what God is.
God is a crazy old white woman!
What wars was I in? I was in Vietnam. I was a Canadian sergeant in Vietnam, I knew who my friends were. I’ll tell you that. I knew. I was in the dirty war in the Congo in… what? … 66. In 66 I was in the dirty war in the Congo. Died there. And I was in the dirty war in Brazil.
I’m a career soldier. Seventy-three years old. I got one foot in the grave and diabetes.
Halifax? Hey, no – why would I want to go to Halifax? My people were black Loyalists, we came to this country in 1776. We’ve never been slaves. My mother was a Jew. If your mother’s a Jew, you’re a Jew. It don’t matter who your daddy is. Everyone knows who mama is. Nobody knows for sure who Papa is. It’s smart. I was born in Labrador City. Moved to Montreal when I was eight. I was a bad boy, so my mother sent me off to Chicago to live with my uncle. I was so bad, they gave me a choice of join the army or go to prison, so I joined the army.I’m the worst kind. A career soldier. Seventy-three years old.
Montreal? MontREAL? No Halifax, I’ve never been to Halifax. Why would I go there? Why would anyone want to go to Halifax. No jobs, no people, no nothing. No, I’m from Montreal.
Ever seen the Fleur de Lis? You know what that is? It’s got six points. It’s the Star of David! I’m telling you, it’s the Star of David. Six points. Count ’em. Three up and thr
ee down. Star of David.
Cuz the first kings of France, they were Mary Magdalene’s people. A Tribe of Israel. They were Jews. So that’s the Fleur de Lis. The Star of David.
Wouldn’t it be something if the coalition government was headed up by the head of the Bloc? That would be something!
Seventy-three years old! I’ve been dead for years.
of which there has been an excess on teh intarwebs this week. This should blow that right out of the water; a little video from the creators of the Spongmonkeys and their smash hit “We Like The Moon” this one could perhaps be described as a type of hedgehog-based performance art thesaurus for low rent porn writers.
Do I need to tell you? NSFW.
Especially if you turn the volume up very, very loud.
raincoaster 