Tee Shirts Again?

Having another Tee Shirt post is like when you have canned chili 6 days in a row because you can’t figure out what else to fix for dinner.

What it means is that I’ve gotten another wonderful issue of Things you never knew existed in my mail box. I sure appreciate the fine folks that I never knew existed for sending me this catalog – especially as I’ve never ordered from them.

What I have done is rip off their Tee Shirt slogans and put them on this blog.  Here's the best from them (that I haven't already ripped off in a previous post.)

People keep pointing this shirt out to me for some reason.

Now with 20% more nitrogen!

Still waiting on the punch line

And here's some from other sources

I knew God created hockey

Sorry clown fans...  Are there any?

So sweet - maybe due to diabetes

That's the spirit

This last group is from a tee shirt trend of making the body part of the message.  A lot of those won't pass the decency test (I failed that twice.)  Here are the cleaner ones.

Nerd-dom free from the weight of tie and pocket protector!

Way to go!

Hurts to look at.

Last couple are for the insufferable.

As long as that means I can go away.

VW did a bunch of these videos.  This is my favorite.

Bob Hoskins

I’ve had that movie-goer experience of Al Pacino, Holly Hunter, Anthony Hopkins, Morgan Freeman, Kathy Bates – even pre-puberty Dakota Fanning moving me with the power of their incredible acting talent.

Bob Hoskins can’t do that. Bob Hoskins doesn’t have that power. It doesn’t matter either. He’s great, not because he can act, but because Bob Hoskins is that perfect type of actor to be - if you can’t act.

Roger Rabbit Bob Hoskins…

He’s not talented, clever or tall – so watching him makes you feel talented, clever and tall, and doesn’t leave you feeling like you abused him in the process. It’s all good with Bob.

Mermaids Bob Hoskins…

Even theater critics wouldn’t criticize Bob.

Mrs. Henderwhats-her-name Presents Bob Hoskins…

My high school had a Bob Hoskins; I think most high schools did. Bob is that short guy that tags along with all the big bullies. He’s there with the tough guys even though he couldn’t beat up your pet gerbil. Why is he there? He’s there because the bullies like him – they don’t want to beat him up, but they can’t leave him alone – so they tell him to tag along.

Bob just smiles and enjoys the ride. He does that eye thing. It’s not an acting eye thing. It’s not a clever eye thing, but you laugh anyway because Bob Hoskins is great to hang around with.

“You wanna beer, Bob?”

“Do I!?!”

You laugh – not clever, but you laugh.

That Bob…

Yup – if you’re going to be an actor, and you have no talent; don’t be Leonardo DiCaprio and make it abundantly clear how little talent you have by taking on larger-than-life roles that make you look like a moron.

Don’t be Nicolas Cage and be fantastic in Raising Arizona and then positively ruin every movie you’re in afterwards. I think Cher liked Bob Hoskins after Mermaids. I think Cher wanted to murder Nicolas Cage after Moonstruck.

Don’t be Ben Stiller and dedicate your life to acting so embarrassingly stupid that the suicide hotline sees a 44 percent jump in crisis calls the week after one of his movies come out.

Don’t be Seth Rogan. Please, please don’t be Seth Rogan. Seth Rogan, please stop being Seth Rogan – take a night job at a Cistercian monastery or something.

And certainly don’t be Robert De Niro – one of the most talented actors in the world for the first fifty years of his life who has apparently decided to be as bad in the 21^st century as he was good in the 20^th.

If you’re an actor with no talent, just tag along with some actress with real ability – Cher, Judi Dench, Jessica Rabbit, and do the eye thing, smile, and maybe pant a bit like her pet bull dog.

Just be like Bob – good old Bob – my favorite talentless actor.

I still miss him.

editor's note:  Headley's Go Figure Reads colleague, Stanley McFarland has begun a new blog, Confessions of McFarland  It deals with Politics, religion, economics, and cultural issues.

Yeah, go visit Stanley's boring blog.  Here's the video.  

Stubs 2 Berserk D’Sorbet

Stubs (see last post) don’t just pile up in my story pick up file. They also accumulate in my unfinished post file. Here are a few random snippets that never grew up into real posts.

(Which doesn’t mean they won’t someday.)

I've come to the conclusion that the baby boom generation will never be considered venerable or wise. We're just a silly generation - a roving era of flibbity gibbets; addicted to fads from the early days of hula hoops all the way to Viagra. All my life, whatever age I attain, it will be considered the age of silly people.

Oh well, no biggie.

Justice

“I know I broke up with you, but I need you to do me a favor.”

“Wha…?”

“I need you to get tested. I’ll pay for it.”

“Wha…?”

“You see my new boyfriend thinks I gave it to him, but if you don’t have it, then I can prove he gave it to me.”

“How do you want your coffee?” asked the waitress sweetly

“Black!” answered the middle-aged man as if the possibility that he might like flavor involved in his breakfast beverage was a personal assault.

Considering his attitude, why was he so surprised that his Belgian waffle was covered in baking soda instead of powdered sugar?

Excuse 483

Sorry I’m a little late, Boss

I came the other way

No, I don’t mean the side roads

I wanted to avoid the sun in my eyes

So I went west instead of east

The extra 8000 miles takes longer than you’d think

Then there that Pacific thing.

It’s a good thing I had my Yugo treated to float like a 72 bug

because the bridge must have been out.

Swiss cheese and I are tight

by Headley Hauser

Some bonds often

Are closer than all others

And Swiss Cheese binds me

So close it nearly smothers

Parting such intimates

Is a Herculean feat

Swiss cheese keeps me closer

To everything I eat

So if your meals are celebrations

Of togetherness and bliss

Forget the prunes and fiber

And eat the cheese that’s Swiss

Particle board is wood in the same way that vomit is food.

Wise Ass Beer – it doesn't make you smarter when you drink it – it just makes you think you are.

(Wise-Ass Beer Company, Hudson, Mass – drink responsibly)

What I’d Like to Hear in a Post-Game Interview

Interview: So it was a much closer game than most imagined it would be. Is this a moral victory for you?

Player: Muskrat Susie, Muskrat Sam, do the jitterbug down in Muskrat land.

Interview: I’m sorry?

Player: I forgive you.

Interview: Right… so when did you feel the momentum turn against you?

Player: And they jiggle, and they start to giggle.

Interview: Look – I’m asking questions about the game. Why are you giving me lines from a Captain and Tennille song?

Player: Because Muskrat Love is the most stupid-ass song ever, and if you insist on asking me stupid-ass questions – that’s what you’re gonna get.

Here's a video that shows why cats don't work in child care.

Stubs - Vernon

No – I don’t waste all of my time.

I’m sometimes asked why I have so few books and stories. (I guess blog posts don’t count.) After all, I’m told, it doesn’t really take that long to write a novella, what do you do with the rest of your time?

You mean other than borrow Pop Tarts from friends?

Okay, I’m not a complete bum. I do a lot of writing nobody ever sees. For each Trouble in Taos, or Mortified, there are dozens of story ideas I squirrel away for possible future use. I write a page or two so I can remember the idea, then save it in two burgeoning folders on my laptop. I call these writings, Stubs. 

 Here’s one I wrote on Tuesday.

Vernon Hororfield Crawford considered himself nobody’s fool. This was true to a degree. There was no registered deed, no contract of bondage, no mafia blood-oath that marked Vernon as belonging to anybody in particular.

It was certainly true relationally, as Vernon had never had a girl-friend, unless you count Mary-Ellen Boxenbaucher who had once let him kiss her – right on the braces, during recess in third grade.

As such, it might be best stated that Vernon was a everybody’s fool, a free-agent fool, a fool at large, a fool about town, a fool without boarders, a…

I think you get the idea.

If you saw Vernon at home, you probably wouldn’t need this narrative to come the above fool-related conclusion. Vernon lived in a large trailer park, which other than being unusually tornado-magnetic, was remarkable in only one respect – its paucity of rubbish disposal facilities.

The reason for the paucity (or lack, if you don’t enjoy the word paucity – or have developed an allergy to words that begin with the letters p, a, u, c, which includes… paucity among possible others I can’t think of at the moment,) was that Theobald (Grimy) James, the manager of the Gone With the Wind Trailer Park rented the community’s industrial-sized 23 foot dumpster to Vernon as a mobile home.

Other than the lack of windows, paucity (there’s that word again,) of electricity (Grimy had strung one extension cord from Blind Man Bridger’s breaker box,) and general smell of ancient putrefaction, the mini-delux (as Grimy called it,) served Vernon’s needs tolerably well.

Of course he had to be careful to keep his high-threshold doors well padlocked, not only to keep his neighbors from throwing trash onto his kitchen table, but to keep scavengers from claiming the TV, mini-fridge, and electric toilet he rented from Bloodsucker’s Bay Fine Furniture to Let.

On the plus side, having entirely metal walls, he had the best broadcast channel reception in the park.

That’s it – that’s all there is. Someday, Vernon and his foolishness might become a short story or even a book, but for now, he joins a host of other stubs in my voluminous “Pick Up” file.

But unlike his file co-residents and the electric toilet in his dumpster, Vernon, having been posted here, has seen the light of day.

So you see - I don't waste time.  There's no reason in the world that I have a link to this video.

Stuff I Get From Others

Once again, I give the masochistic... no that's supposed to be faithful, viewers of my blog a break.  More pictures; fewer words.
And as these pictures were sent to me on Facebook and other sources - less Headley content in general.

For some reason, several things I get from "friends" follow a certain theme.

Others have a vocational tilt.

Given those choices, I'll take the pirate job, which for some reason leads us to grammar.

And puns

Did you hear about the Buddhist monk who refused Novocain during a root canal? He wanted to transcend dental medication.

And for a reason I can't fathom, this -

And finally these stupidities

For today's video - here's Ellen  from 28 years ago.