Jun 2008
Scattered Thoughts from Epply Airport
06/13/08 05:05 PM Filed in: Misc.
I'm sitting in the airport. My flight doesn't start
boarding for over an hour, but I just had to get out
of the office. There are plenty of seats, but I'm on
the floor so I can access an outlet to charge the
laptop & iPhone for the trip. I'm exhausted and
already have a thin film of travel funk coating me
and I haven't even got on the plane yet. Feh.
So I'll tie up a few loose ends.
CONSUMER ALERT!
I got dinged by this, just like the author of this article. If you use your debit card for gas, beware. The QuikTrip near the old house in Omaha used to ding the card for $60 regardless of how much gas you actually got. Now that number has bumped up. It sucks if you get gas a few times in close proximity. Trust me, I KNOW.
COOL IT WITH THE VENTS!
(get it, it's a pun!)
Fucking seriously, people. Stop doing this. Stop it!
Stop sticking fake vents on your cheap ass cars. It's not road bling, it's stupid. Why are you drawing attention to a shitty stock Impala in the first place? This is a car you want to draw the eye AWAY from. And that goes for your Hyundai's, Kia's and '93 Ford Taurus' as well.
CHEER UP!
The news of Tim Russert dying this morning got me surprisingly down. He was a nice calm rock on MSNBC and even though I didn't catch Meet the Press all that often, I did appreciate his even-measured style. He'll be missed. Instead of mourning, I'm inclined to celebrate life. So here's a video of a guy wearing a green gift bag fucking a giant Cheetoes sculpture:
MORE LINKS!
Were you a highly strung youngster like I was? Then you'll love reliving the worst parts of your childhood at Kindertrauma!
How much stuff do you need? Probably just 100 things. Any more is overkill.
If you're like me, then you're 5'9", your name is Marv and you LOVED National Lampoon's Vacation (as in one of the all-time favorite comedies). Well some other ardent fan made a very faithful recreation of the greatest vacation vehicle of all time: The Wagon Queen Family Truckster in Metallic Pea. (What, you thought it was the Antarctic Blue SuperSportswagon with the CB and the optional rally fun pack?)
Mac Shareware goodness: Someone made a version of Stickies that's actually worth using.
For once I find myself wishing that print wasn't dead. Because sometimes it's wonderfully weird.
That's all for today. I was kind of bummed out by the lukewarm response to After Dark post one (I gauge popularity totally on comments). But I'll probably push forward with mags 2 & 3 nonetheless. If there's something specific you'd like to see from them let me know!
KTHXBAI! (and Huzzah!)
So I'll tie up a few loose ends.
CONSUMER ALERT!
I got dinged by this, just like the author of this article. If you use your debit card for gas, beware. The QuikTrip near the old house in Omaha used to ding the card for $60 regardless of how much gas you actually got. Now that number has bumped up. It sucks if you get gas a few times in close proximity. Trust me, I KNOW.
COOL IT WITH THE VENTS!
(get it, it's a pun!)
Fucking seriously, people. Stop doing this. Stop it!
Stop sticking fake vents on your cheap ass cars. It's not road bling, it's stupid. Why are you drawing attention to a shitty stock Impala in the first place? This is a car you want to draw the eye AWAY from. And that goes for your Hyundai's, Kia's and '93 Ford Taurus' as well.
CHEER UP!
The news of Tim Russert dying this morning got me surprisingly down. He was a nice calm rock on MSNBC and even though I didn't catch Meet the Press all that often, I did appreciate his even-measured style. He'll be missed. Instead of mourning, I'm inclined to celebrate life. So here's a video of a guy wearing a green gift bag fucking a giant Cheetoes sculpture:
MORE LINKS!
Were you a highly strung youngster like I was? Then you'll love reliving the worst parts of your childhood at Kindertrauma!
How much stuff do you need? Probably just 100 things. Any more is overkill.
If you're like me, then you're 5'9", your name is Marv and you LOVED National Lampoon's Vacation (as in one of the all-time favorite comedies). Well some other ardent fan made a very faithful recreation of the greatest vacation vehicle of all time: The Wagon Queen Family Truckster in Metallic Pea. (What, you thought it was the Antarctic Blue SuperSportswagon with the CB and the optional rally fun pack?)
Mac Shareware goodness: Someone made a version of Stickies that's actually worth using.
For once I find myself wishing that print wasn't dead. Because sometimes it's wonderfully weird.
That's all for today. I was kind of bummed out by the lukewarm response to After Dark post one (I gauge popularity totally on comments). But I'll probably push forward with mags 2 & 3 nonetheless. If there's something specific you'd like to see from them let me know!
KTHXBAI! (and Huzzah!)
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Out of Print: After Dark pt.1
Perusing the skanky old publications dotting the
charmingly retro coffee tables in the vintage shops
in the North Loop area of Austin, I happened upon a
stack of After Dark magazines in alarmingly good
shape. Apart from some page yellowing they were in
pristine condition. I wasn't familiar with After
Dark, save for the Berkeley screen saver software of
the Macs of my youth. This After Dark, no relation,
appeared at first blush to be a standard New Yorkey
playbill-esque pub, filled with bio pieces on
Broadway performers you've never heard of and ads for
New York nightlife. Save for a couple differences:
The ads were targeted exclusively to men (men's wear,
men's health, a plethora of porn-stache) and all of
the content was driven almost exclusively by campy
chanteuses recalling their wild times trotting the
boards (seriously, there was a three-page spread on
Hermione Gingold, who you may remember as Eulalie
Mackechnie Shinn from The Music Man), tasteful
semi-nudes of scrawny 70's guys, and some photo
essays of rough trade. Despite the fact that I'm
not 11 years old, I actually thought to myself
"O-M-G, I've stumbled upon a veritable treasure
trove of classic gay mag-tacularity!"
And so I had. I hastily purchased three of them, at a seemingly steep $7 each, and set home to warm up my scanner.
I'll be doling this out in pieces so as to not spoil all the fun at once. Here are selections from After Dark May 1975. A seven month old me was at home, presumably in my crib, while all these wild goings on were... uh, going on. I give you, the cover:
Nobody wants to be the rude one who says, "Um dude, your balls are showing." On the cover of a national publication no less. I'm not sure who the cover character is, but I flipped through enough of the article to know that he was in a production of some high-minded Greek tragedy off-Broadway production where presumably most of the cast wandered around with their balls showing. Even the ladies.
The mag didn't have the cash to go color throughout, so it's a mostly b&w affair. But that detracts in no way whatsoever from the awesomeness of it. If anything it adds.
And speaking of ads, are you looking for the right swimwear to wrap around your "bobby-dazzler"?
Well you're in luck:
Already with the pornstache staring at you. This is magnificent: You have all three types of 70's guy on here. There's the pre-muscle beach boy, the scrawn-fit fella (with and without chest pelt) and then hair helmet McMacho. How important is his hair? Um, it's a 1/3 page ad for conditioner, for crissakes. A lot! He cares about his hair a lot, okay? Don't judge.
This man owned a mustache comb, I guarantee it.
And if you didn't have your own hair:
Okay, lots happening here, so let's dig in. The "Headhugger" should not be confused with the "facehugger," which are the small aliens from Alien that latch onto your face and plant alien eggs in your guts. Although I think that option was available with these toupees. Also it shouldn't be confused with "treehugger," which is a pachouli scented hippie that latches onto your face and plants hair-brained schemes into your mind.
Are you a fan of cinema? Well you're in luck, because The Adonis is the Premiere Showplace of the Nation. How do I know their movies are good? Well, their logo has a boner, that's your first clue.
Gay porn titles have never been subtle, but at least back in the day they were whimsical. Spread Eagles? Wasn't that with Louis Gossett Jr.? (no.) Boys of the Slums, wasn't that Spike Lee? (no.) And what pray tell goes on in their exotic Grecian Lounge? If I have to tell you then you won't understand anyway.
Time for more pornstache!
Wow? Yanni? The guy who sings about Baby Beluga, the caviar all the kids love? (no.) This is another Greek thing. Yianni is, no kidding, the Greek version of the name John. Still, you kinda wonder what's going on under his hat, don't you? Pervert!
Hungry?
When in New York be sure to enjoy the tableside antics of the chefs at Banihana. They would love to make the same ancient jokes you just heard at the other table a minute ago. And when in Denver, be sure to be menaced by a dark eyed stranger with a super pornstache at The Broadway.
So remember, the Benihana in New York, The Broadway... in Denver. What the hell?
What's happening at Gypsy's?
Um, I don't know. Apparently NY mayor Mike Bloomberg in a a Pee Wee Herman haircut will try to tango with you. Gah!
But what's New York without taking in a musical?
Nice. Classy. In the words of its creator, Earl Wilson Jr.: "it is a musical revue about SEX... with some nudity and a lot of X-rated language. It was nominated for a Grammy in 1974 and has appeared all over the world. It is a really fun show that takes the attitude that everyone loves sex... when they are honest enough to admit it... and that we'd probably all be a lot better off if we were less uptight about it".
I sort of agree, I guess. But still, it's a little tacky.
Think it's just modern douchebag fratboys with puka shell necklaces? Don't be fooled.
On the same note, do you think Dov Charney's American Apparel is blazing any trails with its pervy gold lamé outerwear? I'm afraid not. The His Midas from Ah Men shows that with a chest pelt and stuffing your junk in a gold bag, confused heroin-chic ladies will lean on you for support.
Nothing new under the sun, I guess.
I scanned these pages a while ago and don't remember what I was going to say about all of them. But I would hasten a guess that it's about The Kokpit, which is by all accounts, THEE FUN BAR. Got that, Sweet Lips?
Ay ay ay.
Or would you prefer a bar that's named something even more "on the nose"?
Yep. The Poop Deck.
And what do you do with the Poop Deck? You rinse it off, spray some Lysol in the room, maybe light a candle, and keep going.
Oh, Fashion Section! I hope there's a naked guy in a Horatio Hornblower hat!
With cowboy boots to match. What I really admire about this guy is how he kept it classy and kept the legs together. Because once those things open up, "flop" on the ground. Then the magazine gets a brown wrapper, dig?
Everything that is good and bad about Godspell in one picture:
This photo wants so badly to be sexy, but it cannot be. It just cannot be. (BTW, it's not actually from Godspell. But you drama class nerds already new that.)
The Black Crowes called, they want their fancy tour outfit back:
Kind of a fantastic suit, actually. I wouldn't recommend wearing it to a funeral.
Well, maybe a clown funeral.
Ready for that giant Disco Sound?
Both of these ads are fantastic. I want to go back in time just so I can find out what the hell "The New! Sound Sound Machine" is. Is that the name of the bar? Or is the bar Giant Disco Sound? What's happening? Why is this ad yelling at me?!?
And then "How's this body for openers?" Um, the body is okay. The face, however, is a young Jay North from Dennis the Menace meets a scary albino. It's called cropping, people. And it was done, even back in the 70's.
There's a lot going on here, but it's all so worth it:
I won't even comment. Just enjoy it all for yourself. "For Sensualists" "The Ultimate Man and Woman" "Jungle Fever"
It's all so good.
And Beach Boy of New York is the only guy with some meat on him in the whole magazine. A sign of things to come (no pun necessary).
Oh Boy! Turquoise Jewelry!
Sexy? Scary? Both?
This was a 2-page ad pushing the very popular silver and turquoise look of the mid-70's.
And it somehow morphed into a punchline for an SNL sketch:
That's it for issue one. I'm considering
re-selling these elsewhere on docmarvy.com just for
the novelty of it, and to recoup my losses. Good
idea? No?
Eh.
Stay tuned for issue two of more old school, porn-stachity fun from After Dark, coming soon!
Leave some love and ruminations in the comments!
Huzzah!
And so I had. I hastily purchased three of them, at a seemingly steep $7 each, and set home to warm up my scanner.
I'll be doling this out in pieces so as to not spoil all the fun at once. Here are selections from After Dark May 1975. A seven month old me was at home, presumably in my crib, while all these wild goings on were... uh, going on. I give you, the cover:
Nobody wants to be the rude one who says, "Um dude, your balls are showing." On the cover of a national publication no less. I'm not sure who the cover character is, but I flipped through enough of the article to know that he was in a production of some high-minded Greek tragedy off-Broadway production where presumably most of the cast wandered around with their balls showing. Even the ladies.
The mag didn't have the cash to go color throughout, so it's a mostly b&w affair. But that detracts in no way whatsoever from the awesomeness of it. If anything it adds.
And speaking of ads, are you looking for the right swimwear to wrap around your "bobby-dazzler"?
Well you're in luck:
Already with the pornstache staring at you. This is magnificent: You have all three types of 70's guy on here. There's the pre-muscle beach boy, the scrawn-fit fella (with and without chest pelt) and then hair helmet McMacho. How important is his hair? Um, it's a 1/3 page ad for conditioner, for crissakes. A lot! He cares about his hair a lot, okay? Don't judge.
This man owned a mustache comb, I guarantee it.
And if you didn't have your own hair:
Okay, lots happening here, so let's dig in. The "Headhugger" should not be confused with the "facehugger," which are the small aliens from Alien that latch onto your face and plant alien eggs in your guts. Although I think that option was available with these toupees. Also it shouldn't be confused with "treehugger," which is a pachouli scented hippie that latches onto your face and plants hair-brained schemes into your mind.
Are you a fan of cinema? Well you're in luck, because The Adonis is the Premiere Showplace of the Nation. How do I know their movies are good? Well, their logo has a boner, that's your first clue.
Gay porn titles have never been subtle, but at least back in the day they were whimsical. Spread Eagles? Wasn't that with Louis Gossett Jr.? (no.) Boys of the Slums, wasn't that Spike Lee? (no.) And what pray tell goes on in their exotic Grecian Lounge? If I have to tell you then you won't understand anyway.
Time for more pornstache!
Wow? Yanni? The guy who sings about Baby Beluga, the caviar all the kids love? (no.) This is another Greek thing. Yianni is, no kidding, the Greek version of the name John. Still, you kinda wonder what's going on under his hat, don't you? Pervert!
Hungry?
When in New York be sure to enjoy the tableside antics of the chefs at Banihana. They would love to make the same ancient jokes you just heard at the other table a minute ago. And when in Denver, be sure to be menaced by a dark eyed stranger with a super pornstache at The Broadway.
So remember, the Benihana in New York, The Broadway... in Denver. What the hell?
What's happening at Gypsy's?
Um, I don't know. Apparently NY mayor Mike Bloomberg in a a Pee Wee Herman haircut will try to tango with you. Gah!
But what's New York without taking in a musical?
Nice. Classy. In the words of its creator, Earl Wilson Jr.: "it is a musical revue about SEX... with some nudity and a lot of X-rated language. It was nominated for a Grammy in 1974 and has appeared all over the world. It is a really fun show that takes the attitude that everyone loves sex... when they are honest enough to admit it... and that we'd probably all be a lot better off if we were less uptight about it".
I sort of agree, I guess. But still, it's a little tacky.
Think it's just modern douchebag fratboys with puka shell necklaces? Don't be fooled.
On the same note, do you think Dov Charney's American Apparel is blazing any trails with its pervy gold lamé outerwear? I'm afraid not. The His Midas from Ah Men shows that with a chest pelt and stuffing your junk in a gold bag, confused heroin-chic ladies will lean on you for support.
Nothing new under the sun, I guess.
I scanned these pages a while ago and don't remember what I was going to say about all of them. But I would hasten a guess that it's about The Kokpit, which is by all accounts, THEE FUN BAR. Got that, Sweet Lips?
Ay ay ay.
Or would you prefer a bar that's named something even more "on the nose"?
Yep. The Poop Deck.
And what do you do with the Poop Deck? You rinse it off, spray some Lysol in the room, maybe light a candle, and keep going.
Oh, Fashion Section! I hope there's a naked guy in a Horatio Hornblower hat!
With cowboy boots to match. What I really admire about this guy is how he kept it classy and kept the legs together. Because once those things open up, "flop" on the ground. Then the magazine gets a brown wrapper, dig?
Everything that is good and bad about Godspell in one picture:
This photo wants so badly to be sexy, but it cannot be. It just cannot be. (BTW, it's not actually from Godspell. But you drama class nerds already new that.)
The Black Crowes called, they want their fancy tour outfit back:
Kind of a fantastic suit, actually. I wouldn't recommend wearing it to a funeral.
Well, maybe a clown funeral.
Ready for that giant Disco Sound?
Both of these ads are fantastic. I want to go back in time just so I can find out what the hell "The New! Sound Sound Machine" is. Is that the name of the bar? Or is the bar Giant Disco Sound? What's happening? Why is this ad yelling at me?!?
And then "How's this body for openers?" Um, the body is okay. The face, however, is a young Jay North from Dennis the Menace meets a scary albino. It's called cropping, people. And it was done, even back in the 70's.
There's a lot going on here, but it's all so worth it:
I won't even comment. Just enjoy it all for yourself. "For Sensualists" "The Ultimate Man and Woman" "Jungle Fever"
It's all so good.
And Beach Boy of New York is the only guy with some meat on him in the whole magazine. A sign of things to come (no pun necessary).
Oh Boy! Turquoise Jewelry!
Sexy? Scary? Both?
This was a 2-page ad pushing the very popular silver and turquoise look of the mid-70's.
And it somehow morphed into a punchline for an SNL sketch:
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|
|
Eh.
Stay tuned for issue two of more old school, porn-stachity fun from After Dark, coming soon!
Leave some love and ruminations in the comments!
Huzzah!
How friendly is Texas?
Okay, so this is the last lazy YouTube post I'll put
up for a while, pinky swear.
However, you really have to wonder what these boys are going to do when they get to the Chicken Ranch. Looks like they're having a high-ol' time just a-rompin' and a-stompin' around the locker room by themselves. Ahem, uh.... yeah.
So, uh... yeah. Wow.
Yee-haw?
However, you really have to wonder what these boys are going to do when they get to the Chicken Ranch. Looks like they're having a high-ol' time just a-rompin' and a-stompin' around the locker room by themselves. Ahem, uh.... yeah.
So, uh... yeah. Wow.
Yee-haw?
The cult status of Derek Zoolander
06/04/08 05:25 PM Filed in: Comedy
Hey kids,
We write when we are feeling creative, we vlog when we are feeling lazy. So here:
So, here's some of the other Gas Fights mentioned above - starting with an all-Asian one... with a girl(?) That said, it's probably the most true to the original:
The Basketball guys (beware of the long intro and the one guy whose accent might be... Australian?):
BYU guys:
High School Football:
And finally, here's a couple guys who look like rednecks, yet don't seem to have a problem singing a super-gay song at karaoke (kudos for your confidence in your masculinity, fellas!):
That's all for today. Enjoy your Orange Mocha Frappucinos!
Huzzah.
We write when we are feeling creative, we vlog when we are feeling lazy. So here:
So, here's some of the other Gas Fights mentioned above - starting with an all-Asian one... with a girl(?) That said, it's probably the most true to the original:
The Basketball guys (beware of the long intro and the one guy whose accent might be... Australian?):
BYU guys:
High School Football:
And finally, here's a couple guys who look like rednecks, yet don't seem to have a problem singing a super-gay song at karaoke (kudos for your confidence in your masculinity, fellas!):
That's all for today. Enjoy your Orange Mocha Frappucinos!
Huzzah.
This Post is Rated X
06/01/08 12:01 AM Filed in: Music
And by Rated X, I mean "X" - as the Roman numeral 10.
10 years ago today, my life began to have meaning. It was 10 years ago, June 1st, that I went on my first date with Chris. We have been inseparable since, and I love him more with each passing day.
Even though 10 years is a gigantic milestone, we agreed for various reasons not to buy gifts. (Although, somehow, between the two of us, we managed to get a Wii and a copy of Super Mario Galaxy, but that was allegedly not anniversary-related so it doesn't count.
No matter, because I didn't buy my gift, I made it. And this gift is more valuable than anything I could've bought (certainly more than I could've afforded thanks to the Jeep cracking a cylinder). It features me doing something I H-A-T-E to do publicly... sing. I despise my singing voice for reasons that will be evident below. But I've wanted to do a rendition of this song for a while because it conveys how I feel, and I know that it connects to both of us. So, take it away, me:
There you have it.
I don't let my personal life blur onto the blog too often, because I'd rather eschew the naval-gazing for quality content. However, if it weren't for Chris, I wouldn't have a reason to blog, or do much else for that matter.
So enjoy this Halley's Comet of heartfelt sincerity among my inky-black space of snark.
And Chris, I love you.
-M
10 years ago today, my life began to have meaning. It was 10 years ago, June 1st, that I went on my first date with Chris. We have been inseparable since, and I love him more with each passing day.
Even though 10 years is a gigantic milestone, we agreed for various reasons not to buy gifts. (Although, somehow, between the two of us, we managed to get a Wii and a copy of Super Mario Galaxy, but that was allegedly not anniversary-related so it doesn't count.
No matter, because I didn't buy my gift, I made it. And this gift is more valuable than anything I could've bought (certainly more than I could've afforded thanks to the Jeep cracking a cylinder). It features me doing something I H-A-T-E to do publicly... sing. I despise my singing voice for reasons that will be evident below. But I've wanted to do a rendition of this song for a while because it conveys how I feel, and I know that it connects to both of us. So, take it away, me:
There you have it.
I don't let my personal life blur onto the blog too often, because I'd rather eschew the naval-gazing for quality content. However, if it weren't for Chris, I wouldn't have a reason to blog, or do much else for that matter.
So enjoy this Halley's Comet of heartfelt sincerity among my inky-black space of snark.
And Chris, I love you.
-M