Museum of Morgan – Dancing In The Streets

Navigating The Music Video Landscape
Video: “Dancing In The Streets”
Artist: David Bowie & Mick Jagger
Year: 1985

 

dancininthestreets

Remember music videos? A now long lost art form thanks to MTV2 programming such as “Jersey Shore,” “16 & Pregnant” and “Teen Mom.” Now – we slink away into the internet searching for our fix. On YouTube lies all of the nostalgia that comes with lip syncing and staring directly into the camera (or away for dramatic effect.) I just so happen to love the bad ones.

Mick Jagger and David Bowie? Sign me up. Two of the kings of rock. I will now live blog my feelings through this musical journey:

Whistling in an empty warehouse. That’s a peculiar beginning.

I now hear Mick and Bowie each calling out different countries names as I watch fast moving feet.

Wait … What … the … FUCK!?

WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY DOING?!

WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY WEARING?!

WHY WAS THAT JUMP IN SLOW MOTION?! IS DAVID BOWING SECRETLY A JUNGLE CAT?! [Read more...]

Practical Advice Learned in The Bathroom – Number Two

Practical Advice Learned in The Bathroom

There are a scant few places on Earth that reveal more about a person, than the the places they piss and shit. Only a handful come to mind: bars, churches and opium dens. Still the bathroom and our activities in them, tells so much more.

Take for instance the time I had brunch with a South Indo-chinese war lord to haggle the price of “appropriated” human organs (it’s a bear market). Our exchanges grew heated, so, I excused myself to the restroom. It’s a classic negotiation tactic…and I had to take a dump.

Mid-crap, my mind drifted, away from the low ball offer I was given for kidneys, to the walls of my stall. There on the wall paper among the ugly rubber ducky wall paper, there was shit. Someone had written on the wall…with shit.

What trauma in life brings a man to write with his own dookie? A broken home? Desperation? A lack of shit colored pens? My mind reeled. The implications were enormous. Then, the paranoia set in. What else had this mad shit writer doodled on? I scanned the stall in a frenzy. Shit? Shit? Nothing. Just the wall.

I finished, washed my hands and pondered. Who was this shit scribbling freak? A chill ran through me. He could be anyone. He could be anywhere at anytime. In fact, he might have there with me. Possibly, lurking in the trash can. A round house kick to it’s side proved it empty.

Panicked, I opened the door and ran screaming from the restaurant. I’m sure my war lord friend was curious as to why. He never did settle on a kidney price. Such is life, I suppose, when walls are written with shit.

What did I learn from all of this? A good many things, let me tell you. One, no one understands the words “Poop, shit wall writing!” when you scream it. Two, there is a man named Poupschitz Walrighting who frequents the same restaurants as Indochinese war lords and three, I will be meeting his lawyers next week.

My advice is this: The world is a weird place, so, to be safe assume everyone has shit on their hands.

 
 

EltonElton, a steamy sexual dynamo, is a comedy writing loser from Pennsylvania. He’s the author of several failed attempts at books, cartoons and occasionally writes articles at Funnyordie for Will Ferrell to ignore. You can check out more of his pants shittingly funny mumbling at Elton Says Things (his super tits blog!) What that means…he doesn’t even know.

Chris Coletti: His Life is Better than Yours – Hand Molestation

I don’t like being touched by strangers.
Whether it’s someone putting their hand on my knee & uttering “I know good looking when I see it”(but that’s another story) or someone who just doesn’t understand personal space and needs to touch my arm while talking, I don’t want strangers touching me.
And there’s an epidemic sweeping the country called “Hand Molestation.” Thousands of people are afflicted by this scourge each day, chances are it’s touched your life or the life of a loved one. You innocently pay a clerk for a soda and their fingers rub against your palm as they give you change, you take your receipt and the cashier “accidentally” grabs your hand, you make a simple meth purchase and your dealer brushes his palm against your fingers.
To help you in the fight against this growing pestilence, I provide you with the 3 most common forms of Hand Molestation. Use this information wisely. [Read more...]

Practical Advice Learned in The Bathroom – Number One

Being your average, ordinary everyday bad ass, I have used many a bathroom in my time. Be it for the enjoyment of wash closet architecture and tiling or for their secluded enclaves to woo buck-toothed hookers, I’ve enjoyed them all, in one way or another. Though, mostly for pissing, shitting …and prostitutes.

Those same wash rooms have taught me a lot too. Things that, when learned and applied, have greatly enhanced my life. Like, never, ever trust a priest taking confession in port-a-potty, or that “glory holes” are not for recyclables or for glory and it’s impossible to speak to a stranger about your mother while urinating.

While those nuggets of wisdom could warrant a Reader’s Digest novella of scatological life lessons themselves, there are far more to be had. After scouring the world’s bathrooms on the tail end of hangovers, cocaine binges and burrito laden emergencies, I’ve amassed, a literal ass load of practical guidance…just for you. You don’t have to thank me. It’s been my pleasure in more ways than one. The trials and tribulations…the horrific sting ring. Okay, maybe not the sting ring.

Oh, the learned shit, the shits have wrought. There’s so much they’ve taught me. Like the time I was in the Memphis International Airport. I had recently arrived from Paris on a red flight, after selling pirated copies of “The Passion of The Christ” to nuns (don’t ask). On that flight, I had sex with a strange overweight school teacher. She fell in love. When the plane landed I ran. She’d come looking for me, of course, so, I “B” lined for the first bathroom I made eye contact with.

I hid in one of the bathroom’s stalls. A good deal of non-fat girl intrusion time passed and I noticed that no one else had entered the restroom. Weird. I chocked it up to my “manly awesomeness” repelling non-awesome men.

Suddenly, the bathroom door slammed open, then, my stall door was kicked in. It was a group of men in black S.W.A.T. uniforms and gear. I was exposed in all my cowered, whimpering glory. A man pulled me from my chubby girl-less, safe haven.

Believing I was about to be violated sexually, prepared myself. I worked at my belt buckle, but, to my surprise I merely incensed the men. They instead searched my person and the carry on bag full of condoms, miniature booze bottles and dental floss. “Is this it?”, the sex army leader sternly questioned. “The floss, yes. I’m happy to share. Please don’t rape me.”, I replied…vanquished. He looked me over in a puzzled and angry way, then, I was roughly escorted from the bathroom and taken to a security office.

After being questioned for hours, having my luggage searched twice (once by dogs) and receiving 3 body cavity searches (not by dogs), I learned what had happened. A sexually satisfied fat girl saw me run into the bathroom. Unable to breach the sacred barrier of the “Men’s Room” to cash in on a supposed “marriage proposal”, she sought other ways to have me extracted. She told them I was a terrorist. She has since been jailed due to being crazy. I was let go on the grounds of my awesomeness.

I learned a couple of words of advice from this situation. Some involving dogs, others involving fat lovers in confined spaces, still others involving fear pissing. The biggest lesson I learned, however, is that a bathroom is no safe haven when it comes to strange fat jilted mile-high club lovers. My advice…never bang a fat chick that needs a marriage proposal to get it on, because, in the end, there’s going to be a S.W.A.T. Team involved.


EltonElton, a steamy sexual dynamo, is a comedy writing loser from Pennsylvania. He’s the author of several failed attempts at books, cartoons and occasionally writes articles at Funnyordie for Will Ferrell to ignore. You can check out more of his pants shittingly funny mumbling at Elton Says Things (his super tits blog!) What that means…he doesn’t even know.

Emily Schorr Lesnick: Can I Touch Your/Will You Play With My Hair Paradox

hair is deepIf there is one truth emphasized throughout history, it is that hair is deep. Hair is a marker of beauty, of gender, of self-expression, and it is also the location of racism and colonialism. [Read more...]

Chris Coletti: His Life Is Better Than Yours – Bathroom Adventure

bathroom stallIn my travels around the world as an internationally beloved speaker I’ve seen some terrible things: The ugly face of racism in the South, anti-American hatred in Europe, light rain & fog in San Francisco.  But nothing (NOTHING!) compares to the horror I witnessed in Denver, specifically their airport.  After a long flight & while waiting for my connecting flight back to beautiful California, I was literally inches away from being raped…possibly gang raped. [Read more...]

Rick Santorum: Privacy Parts – Gallagher On Topic

Gallagher: On Topic
Privacy Parts

There are a few buzzwords and phrases that automatically send a message to my brain to shut down any listening functions and proceed with a series of head nods every seven seconds. The first one on the list is the phrase, “Back in my day…”.

Someone who pines for the “good ol’ days” manages to break the fourth wall of double denial. Not only are they going out of their way to completely ignore the negative and ignorant thinking of their time from their psyche, but they are also making themselves believe that time travel is possible.

That pining for the days when the world only had black and white television, movies and public bathrooms has reared its ugly head once again, now that Rick Santorum is looking more and more like the man on top in the Republican presidential race. It’s an appropriate place for the man to be, based on the Internet’s definition of his last name (don’t Google it if you’re enjoying a tasty bowl of chocolate pudding or lube right now).

He has reignited an issue that I thought had been long been settled: contraception. Apparently, he’s not just against forcing religious organizations to provide it for their insured employees, but he has also called it “not okay” and “dangerous” The only time contraception should be considered “dangerous” is if they have to come in a bulletproof coating.

Would you sleep with this man out of wedlock? Neither would he if he had his way.

Santorum can believe whatever the hell he wants as long as he doesn’t try to interfere with people’s private lives and get in their bedrooms to stop them from having sex that his faith won’t allow him to enjoy. He can still think that Galileo “had it coming” and it wouldn’t bother me in the slightest as long as he’s not in power and chances are that telling people not to do it for fun will make sure that never happens. Besides, his faith is really more of the crux of the issue i.e. “My God won’t let me get freaky with two women, a step ladder, a belt sander and zero consequences so you shouldn’t have the right to either.”

The issue would have gone away but it managed to reach full-on silly when his billionaire campaign donor Foster Friess, a name and job title that sound like the true identity of a Batman villain, told MSNBC’s Andrea Mitchell that, “Back in my days…”. I couldn’t remember the rest because I blacked out so I had to look it up.

He said that women used to use “Bayer aspirin for contraceptives”. Man, that stuff is more powerful than I thought. It can not only stop headaches and prevent heart attacks, but it can also build a cement wall around a woman’s uterus.

Foster Friess, uterus rancher

He continued, “The gals put it between their knees and it wasn’t that costly”.That moment was followed by a long period of silence, either because Mitchell had a hard time processing what Friess had said or the shock of his candidness made all the blood rush out of my head so it could provide extra protection to my reproductive organs, just in case I had a uterus it didn’t know about.

The “culture war” has always been a useless issue that never made any sense to me whether it was about sex, music, movies, video games or anything that’s just goddamn fun anymore. Worrying about the morality of condoms, birth control and even abortion should be way, way down on our list of priorities, especially when they come from candidates who constantly say they want to get government out of our lives. That’s like being in favor of irrigation but against clouds.

It’s all just an easy way to get easy votes from simple minded simpletons without having to do the hard work of actually talking about issues that matter and coming up with real solutions to fix bigger problems like…anything else. Giving fetuses the right to vote would be a step up at this point.

 

Danny Gallagher is a freelance writer, humorist and reporter and a regular contributor to TruTV’s “Dumb as a Blog“, Playboy’s “The Smoking Jacket“, MTV’s Clutch and the Shadowbox Comedy Theater of Columbus. His humor and feature writing has also appeared in Aol’s TVSquad.com and Asylum.comSpike.com, Esquire Magazine, Cracked.com, Mental Floss Magazine, The Christian Science Monitor, Chicago Tribune’s “Redeye,” The Austin American-Statesmen and The Center for the Easily Amused. He doesn’t have a uterus the last time he checked.

 

Matt and Nat – Mouse Story

scary funny mouse

Matt and Nat are funnier than you and slowly realizing that living with a lady/gent (that you are not sleeping with) makes you realize how much the opposite sex really does suck. Pick your side…but if you pick Matt’s you’re wrong. Just saying.

Nat says: Call me old-fashioned, but when there is a fucking mouse in your apartment, your male roommate shouldn’t be the one to jump on the couch and scream like a little pussy when it scurries past their feet right?

Right.

I thought that was one of the perks of living with a dude. I get to be the only who is allowed to act emotionally reckless for no apparent reason…while the male roommate kills the shit out of the mouse. And then I get to call him a heartless murderer when he drops the poor lifeless body of Fernando (I get to name the mouse, too) into a Tupperware container. Not the other way around.

And yet here I am, throwing out this perfectly good Tupperware container, because my male roommate is too much of a little bitch to properly handle the masculine killing of a mouse. I guess this is what the feminist movement was all about.
Guess whose doing the dishes tonight then, bitch. [Read more...]

A Short Runt Rant – Emily Schorr Lesnick

Attention: Just because I am “small” and “adorable” does not give you the right to pick me up. Ask my consent. I am not “bite sized” for you.

No but seriously, if a tall dude comes in for a hug with a grin on his face, I have reason to suspect that I am about to be lifted into the air, squeezed, plopped down, maybe have my head patted, and be told I am “so cute.” It has happened before and it will happen again. Sometimes they say “I can pick you up, right?” and completely take away my voice, which is too bad because I may have a little body, but I have a big voice. [Read more...]

Carolyn Meeks Video Diary: New Year’s Resolutions

Our friendly neighborhood ranter Carolyn Meeks counts down her goals for 2012.

 


jenn-dodd
Jenn Dodd

Jenn Dodd is a New York based character actress and comedian who loves to poke fun at mankind’s collective social awkwardness. Her character work focuses primarily on the wonderfully bizarre nature of every day people.