Filed under: Teh Penguin
As many of you know by now, Minka went to America. And one simply cannot say one has done America without having had set foot into a Starbucks. They are literally at every corner. So with good company *winks at Joel and Neva* I took those flippers of mine and firmly placed them into such a coffee shop somewhere in Connecticut. It was go-hood! Here is High Five for TGSwoWM! Oh yes, to order such a delight you need to be familiar with the code of inconceivable abbreviations at a really fast pace. It took me a day or two!
But that is not what should concern us today. When I went back home, proudly holding my first Starbucks cup, I looked at its logo. Pretty lady, I thought. Crown too, long hair, breasts covered…all very appropriate. On closer examination: What the heck is she holding in her hands? Scissors, crap claws or limbs from the other two contestants for this picture?
Back home and with the help of the worldwideweb I was dedicated to find the answer. And Voila:
A slightly older version of the Starbucks logo brought some insight. Flippers! Imagine my joy. So I went with mermaid/siren. Possible origin in mythology. Notice that our little minx features a very attractive belly button.
But I would be a very bad researcher had I given up my search then and there. Way before Starbucks came to focus on coffee exclusively, the business actually featured a variety of products as you can see in this image:
and would you just look at our little vixen. The crown is sorta different, you might say…the crown is what you are focusing on? Female body characteristics are openly depicted! A bit more body hair too. Ups, where did our belly button go?
And here we go. Our formerly attractive young and propriety-concerned young woman has turned into an open twin-tailed siren from the 15th century.
See how the tail legs separate? That´s just naughty! A bulging tummy and quite some body hair to boot! And the belly button is back too. *averts eyes*
So much for sexual enlightenment, ey? Sure, it seems we got prettier, less hairy and a bit friendlier over the centuries, but we sure do cover up more!
~Penguin out!
Which is to say, I’m not feeling very funny. Maybe my sarcastic “advice” on how to be funny has come back to bite me on my non-Easter-egg-hiding ass. Maybe I’ve been thinking too much lately about what it means to be funny. Maybe I’ve forgotten how to be funny. Maybe there’s a limit to the number of times you can start a sentence with “maybe” and still hold people’s attention.
Among the three hundred other unfinished projects I’ve got going, I’m working on a master’s degree in the humanities. The “humanities,” in case you’re wondering, means basically all the fun kinds of classes you took in college: History, literature, philosophy, that sort of thing. Pretty soon I have to come up with a topic for a thesis. I’ve been thinking I would write it on the philosophy and history of humor. Hence my obsession with analyzing what is funny. And what isn’t.
Entirely unrelated to this, I’ve been reading this book about artificial intelligence. Well, it’s about music, mathematics, computers and self-referential systems… you probably wouldn’t understand. Mostly because I don’t understand half of it myself, so there’s no way I could explain it to you. Anyway, after 500 pages the author finally gets to the question of what it means to be “intelligent.” Is a computer that can perform complex mathematical functions intelligent? What about a computer than can beat a grand master in chess? What about a computer that can recognize music but insists on listening to the same f—ing John Mayer song over and over? Etc., etc.
My feeling is that to be intelligent, one has to have a sense of humor. There are a lot of different kinds of intelligence, and a really funny person isn’t necessarily highly intelligent or vice versa. But someone — or something — that has no sense of humor whatsoever can’t, in my opinion, be considered intelligent. I can’t really justify this opinion, except to say that true intelligence requires making intuitive connections between seemingly dissimilar things — which is also the core of the concept of humor. Einstein figured out that E = MC^2 (Energy = Mass times the Speed of Light squared) because he somehow made a connection between two things — energy and matter — that everybody had always assumed were two completely different things. Now consider the question of why the chicken crossed the road. The answer is, of course, to get to the other side. Now we must ask, “Why is that funny?”
Well, ok, it’s not. But when you heard it for the first time when you were six, it was pretty damn hilarious. Because the fact is, you knew all along that he crossed the road to get to the other side. The answer to the question is completely wrong, and yet it makes total sense. The only problem is, I have no idea what this has to do with E = MC^2. Great, now I’ve lost my sense of humor and I’m stupid.
Anyway, I have decided that artificial intelligence research should be shifted toward creating a computer that can get a joke. Not that there’s any need for such a machine — although I’m sure the estate of Johnny Hart would appreciate it — but if we’re going to try to create intelligent machines, that would be a good place to start. So the question is, what joke would you use to test it? I’m thinking that it should be something short and simple. You can’t start a machine off on Studio 60 style humor. After all, that’s what turned the Terminators against us, right?
So I’ve been trying to think of the simplest possible joke. The absolute lowest common denominator of humor, if you will. A joke that even a self-cleaning oven might be able to get. The best I’ve been able to come up with is this:
Q: What is 1 + 1?
A: 11.
Well, I know, it’s not very funny. But it killed my Commodore VIC-20.
~ Unfunny Diesel
You can find way funnier stuff than this at humor-blogs.com. And sometimes even at mattresspolice.com.
BACK off, Betty, we’re not going Imus on anyone here. Not today. By “Ho” we are referring to Hawai’i’s number one celebrity, DON HO, who passed away over the weekend at the tender age of 76. Now, let us be the first to say we were never huge fans of his, but we do recognize an icon when we’re forced to look at his face every time we visit The Aloha State. Contrary to popular opinion, we’re not macaroons. We’re well aware of his impact on, uh… something. Okay, so maybe his wasn’t necessarily our favorite variation of Hawai’ian music, but still… Tiny Bubbles is a very charming little song. Harmless, in it’s own way, really. That said, we confess we never understood why it was such a big deal. We’re guessing it had something to do with Lawrence Welk, and, if you don’t mind, we’d prefer to leave it at that.
DON HO. Overall, he seemed like a very nice/laid back guy. Tho’ we did hear once that he was a bit of a womanizer — ‘course we heard that back in the 70’s from Julie, one of our college roommates, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Julie discovered Don’s proclivity for younger women when the undisputed King of Waikiki Entertainers tried to stick his tongue down her throat, but hey, that was then and this is now, and, uh, the guy just died. So, you know, maybe he was just trying to be friendly. Or maybe he wanted her to “suck ’em up” — something he often told his audience, when they raised their collective glasses of mai-tais, in response to his raised glass of scotch. 
That line alone may be the reason MAXIM MAGAZINE name Ho one of the “50 coolest guys ever” back in 2001 — which beats a sharp bamboo stick in the eye, since, as everyone knows, such a designation, along with a puka shell necklace at a hukilau, is enough to get anyone lei’ed. Or so we suspect.
IN all seriousness, we know Don Ho was beloved by many islanders and/or tourists. His music, while not the most “ethnically” Hawai’ian, had a certain…we don’t know what — je ne sais quoi — that was irresistible to all (all, that is, except Julie, who gags at the mention of his name, even now). We considered offering up a clip of Ho singing his signature song, the aforementioned Tiny Bubbles, but then we found something we liked so much more, that well, we couldn’t resist sharing it, instead. So, without further adieu and/or aloha, here’s a taste of Ho, covering a tune by Gabriel, on an album titled (we’re not making this up): When Pigs Fly. We have a feeling you’ll find it as surprisingly “entertaining” as we do. That said, we won’t be insulted — and/or shocked — if you don’t. (PS: we also think this qualifies as a “musical opposite/cheap laughs” to DJ LAMPSHA’S fun/fabulous Saturday Spin, The Gothic Archies, but don’t tell anyone we said that, it might make us seem… insensitive.)
ALOHA nui loa, Don. May the Big Kahuna book you into the biggest Tiki Lounge in the Lani. Don’t take any wooden pu-pu’s, unless someone gives you a glass filled with tiny bubbles, with which to wash ’em down and/or suck ’em up. (we make light of his passing, but trust us, he will be missed)
WE sincerely doubt DIESEL will force you to read up on puka shells/pu pu platters and/or hula dancers tomorrow, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t come back. Meanwhile, it’s nothin’ but alohahahaha at humor-blogs.com.
~snuppy
Filed under: Lampsha Spins
Dear readers (and listeners), if it is good music you seek, then run away and click the nearest link to flee this post immediately. Yes you won’t find it here today. Scream and run away! Goodbye.
Still here?
Then if you were brave enough to stay with me, I shall introduce you to the terrible and scary Stephin Merritt and his band (or some would say musical project) The Gothic Archies. They have put out a cd The Tragic Treasurywith 13 songs that correspond to the 13 books of Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events. Notice I have not yet added a link, I do not want to do this to you, dear reader, but you’ve left me no choice – you won’t leave on your own. I must therefore provide the link which will immediately open into the delightfully horribly charming haunting music from the brilliant twisted mind of Stephin Merritt.
Don’t say you weren’t warned: PLEASE, OH PLEASE DON’T CLICK HERE!!!
Oh, you haven’t left? Then you deserve not only every bit of what you hear, but what you see. The link below which can also be accessed from the above link (which I’m really hoping you didn’t click) is a link to the videos. If Diesel or Snuppy or someone else knows how to embed, well then this crowd is asking for it, they won’t leave! If not, and you haven’t come to your senses of the dangers that lie ahead, then just go ahead and CLICK HERE FOR THE VIDEO of Scream and Run Away which is hysterical terrible and should not be seen. But if you do see it and the cruel Count Olaf has not kidnapped you to participate in some vile performance of his theatre troup, then I’m betting there are other videos and other entertaining links, like the one to MySpace or the direct one to the elusive author of the series himself, Lemony Snicket. There were some games somewhere on the site (sorry I really do have to sream and run away to violin with Tali, who incidentally is responsible for hooking me into this Series in the first place – the books, that is).
I heard about The Tragic Treasury back in the Fall on, you guessed it, my favorite (can’t you see why) radio station, WFUV. I just did not want to torment you with it, until now when I remembered about it and needed something to post. I hope you do enjoy and Count Olaf does not do anything terrible to you, dear readers. I hope Actonbell sees this Spin as I think I’ve read a review or mention of The Series at her wonderful blog where she muses about such, Paradise Alley. I don’t have time enough to find the particular post, but go muck about, there you won’t be tortured or in danger, at least I don’t think so.
Oh, and have a wonderful weekend…if you survived that is.
~ DJ LAMPSHA
spinning out of control since 2006 (really since the day I was born or was it the second year of high school?)
PS: You won’t get tortured or be in danger (at least not terribly) at HUMOR BLOGS.com . But you might if you don’t vote for Neva in Diesel’s Caption Contest at The Mattress Police!!!
Filed under: cracks us up
PERHAPS you heard about the brouhaha in Boston a couple of months ago, that was not all that “haha” once the brou was let out of the, er, Beantown bag. What in the wide wide world of farts are we talking about? We have no idea. Apparently we aren’t supposed to prance around late at night in our backyards, clad in little more than large jackets and/or big shoes, especially when it’s freezing cold outside and/or raining, because we get sick. And, when we get sick, we get stupid. S-T-O-O-P-I-D.
Anyway — here’s the 4-1-1 on the brouhaha, as it relates to a new movie, set to a beat you can dance to, but only if you’re wearing shoes that actually fit. *takes swig of Nyquil, swerves to miss dogs* Help us Jeebus, this post is rapidly going to hell in a pair of giant duck boots and/or puffy down jacket.
LET’S try this thing, again: There’s this show. This very dumb (but seriously hilarious) show called Aqua Teen Hunger Force, that’s about, um, Teens hungry for water forced through some hose that runs under a bridge in Boston. No, that’s not right. Whatever. ATHF is part of the late night “adult” programming on Cartoon Network. It’s funny. And popular, which is why, we suppose, a movie based on its characters is opening in theaters across the country today, called, appropriately and not at all confusingly: AQUA TEEN HUNGER FORCE COLON MOVIE FILM FOR THEATERS. Looks darn amusing. Amusing, that is, if you’re a 13 year old boy (or, in the case of our son, 23).
WHAT’S all this got to do with anything? Well, some brilliant so-‘n-sos at Cartoon Network’s [adult swim] crafted a clever parody of ATHF featuring the two “Mooninites” used in that [adult swim] ad-scare, in a 24-like scenario, based on the aforementioned brouhaha. A brouhaha, we hasten to add, that was less “haha” than “Holy crap, we thought it would be funny to fake everyone out with our clever Mooninite light boxes! Who knew anyone would think it was a bomb? Yeesh. We messed up. Still, made ya look!”.
*With luck, you’ll find a Mooninite and/or brouhahaha on humor-blogs.com.
~snuppy
Filed under: happy happy
BLOGGING. On any given day, it is the absolute bane of our existence. Not that we don’t enjoy it, mind you, but still, who hasn’t suffered under the extreme pressure of content conjuring? Not us, baby, not even on days we think we do have something on our minds (a rarity, to be sure, but it has happened). All this to say: we intended to be brilliant today, but the best laid plans of men and bloggers are sometimes thwarted by forces decidedly more powerful than, well… than us. So, instead of amusing and/or entertaining you with our wit, we figured we’d attempt to put you inside our shoes, in hopes you can gain a little insight about our writing process and/or those aforementioned forces that will surely keep us from realizing our dream of becoming world-class writers anytime soon, Shirley.
IT is a dark and stormy night. You go to bed early, in hopes you’ll sleep well and wake up full of vim, vigor, and, er, brilliance. Suddenly (let’s say around 3:11 am) you’re awakened by the sound of your dogs snorting, scratching and sniffing (especially around the corners of your bed, a spot one pup once “soiled” 2 years ago). You hop up before your partner does because A) he’s the one who usually gets up, and you’d like to let him sleep for a change, and B) you need to pee. So out of bed and down the stairs you go, in order to take your precious doggies out to do their “business”. And “out” they go, into the far reaches of your backyard. And “out” they stay, into the far reaches of the early morning. So “out” you go, wearing little more than a tiny tee-shirt & skimpy undies, after grabbing the first warm thing in sight — which happens to be a heavy coat, 3 sizes too big, that barely falls below your rear end, and a pair of snow boots, 4 sizes too big, that barely stay on your feet.
It’s dark. It’s cold. It’s wet. You stumble up the hill, squinting into the inky recesses of the yard, for wearing your glasses would have made too much sense, what with it being late, and the dogs merely needing to pee, and you being so tired, and all. You can’t see well in the daylight without your contacts and/or glasses, so, for all intents and purposes, you’re blind as a bat. A stupid bat. A cold wet bat. In big floppy shoes.
You forge ahead, because, goddammit, those dogs have had enough time to mark every tree in the yard. How long does it take to lift a leg and pee, anyway? Hell, you needed to pee and come to think of it, you still do. Could you lift your leg and relieve yourself against that large rock? You could, were it not for that stupid coat, those over-sized boots, and the fact that you’re not a pathetic uncivilized maroon, despite evidence to the contrary.
Where are those dogs? Is there a hole in the fence? Would you be able to see the hole, when you can’t even see the fence? Damn you, anyway! Why-oh-why didn’t you put on your glasses before going outside? Why-oh-why did you put on your husband’s coat and boots, instead of your own? Why-oh-why are you asking yourself these questions when you need to be thinking of something to write for that post that won’t be writing itself, despite your desperate attempts to “think” it into existence?
You see a flash of lighter dark, visible against the darker dark of the trees and/or shrubs (please, dear G-d, let those other shapes be trees and/or shrubs), you call out to your puppies and the two lighter dark flashes come racing towards you. For a second it occurs to you those flashing dark lights might be bands of rabid raccoons and/or coyotes, and you consider running, until you remember those boots, your bare legs, the rain (did we mention the rain?) and you realize you’d most likely land on your ass in a puddle of mud, where you’d be torn to shreds by those rampantly rabid (and/or skanky?) scavenging raccoons and/or coyotes. Oh the humanity. No, the dogs. Whew. It is the dogs. You’re okay. You heave a sigh of relief and hope you remember to wipe that dribble of pee off your leg when you get back inside.
As for the post? Eh, you figure something will come to you in the morning.
~snuppy
footnote: The sun is always shining at humor-blogs.com.
BELIEVE it or not, we’re still smiling (okay, we were laughing like there’s no tomorrow, but since there is a tomorrow — which is now today — and we’re trying to type AND drink our coffee — we’re smiling. deal with it) over that hilariously brillaint-yet-thought-provoking post DIESEL did here yesterday, even as we scratch our heads over our inability to follow-up with something clever of our own. That Diesel, he does stuff like that to us all the time — which, we suppose, is why we love him so much (well, that, and the fact that we don’t have to write anything on the days he does). Unfortunately, with all the noise we’re making NOT laughing, we can’t hear ourselves think. Fortunately, we don’t have to, since we’d already decided to do a less funny/more thought provoking post for today, in hopes you might do less laughing/more thinking with and/or for us. Hahahahaha. That is such a crock of shit. Not that we don’t like this following video, but we don’t care if you don’t laugh. Or if you do laugh. OR if you think. Just as long as we don’t have to. Think. (keep up, we’re almost through)
WHAT’S all this have to do with humps? Glad you asked. You see, on April 1st, Alanis Morissette released a cover/video (we prefer to think of it as a parody, but what do we know) of The Black Eyed Peas‘ hit My Humps, about her own bumps, lumps, and…humps. A concept that’s pretty damn brilliant, funny, and/or thought provoking, if we do say so ourselves, which we do.
SPEAKING of humps, we’ll fall short of doing that to you if you’ll do us a teensie-tiny favor and vote for the hilarious caption one of us (me) did for DIESEL’S CAPTION CONTEST. Okay, so we would never actually hump you, but we’ll be your friend, and isn’t that almost as good? You want humps, go to humor-blogs.com. Wait… did we say “humps”? We meant laughs.
~snuppy
So last week I gave you some advice on how to promote your blog, and the week before that I told you how to be funny. That’s pretty much all you need to know, so I’m not sure why you’re still here. I’m not hiding Easter eggs up my ass, if that’s what you’re thinking. Not after last year’s debacle.
Actually, the more astute among you may have realized that I was being somewhat facetious (not to mention downright grumpy) in my blogging advice. On the bright side, if you were dumb enough to follow my advice, then you probably don’t… what? Hey, come back! Oh, I see. You got distracted by the bright side. Come on, over here. That’s right, focus. Good. I know you have trouble with shiny objects. My mistake.
Here, let me make it up to you by giving you some real advice this time. No, really. I’m going to tell you how to be funny.
First of all, aim low. Stupid people will laugh at anything. For example, Johnny Hart, the creator of the comic strip B.C. just died. I know, very sad. But the bright side is… hey, come back! As I was saying, the bright side is that at least newspapers will stop printing that godawful comic strip that hasn’t been funny since… well, since B.C. Right? RIGHT?!!
Sadly there is no bright side. They’re going to continue the strip with someone else writing it. Which means that my assumption that newspaper editors have simply been humoring an old man for the past few millennia was mistaken. Apparently people actually LIKE B.C. Which means that people think that this is funny:
And trust me, I didn’t spend hours searching for the worst B.C. comic I could find. They’re ALL like this. And now, thanks to the cro-magnons at Creators Syndicate, they will continue to be like this forever.
Ok, no more picking on Johnny Hart, God rest his unfunny soul. The fact is that B.C. isn’t even the worst comic strip these days. Our local paper runs a strip called The Born Loser. A sample entry:
There is simply no explanation for a comic strip this bad. First, how does no one ever notice that the second and third panels of this strip are basically photocopies of the first one? Second, if you were going to photocopy something, why on earth would you choose that? The characters are ugly and badly drawn. Even their furniture is ugly and badly drawn. Third, the joke is stupid. Fourth, the joke is poorly executed. It’s like the artist, Chip Sansom, is afraid of his own punchline (such as it is), so he deliberately softens the blow, cushioning the meager punch his joke packs.
An improved version:
It’s still bad, but it’s not painfully bad. The joke ends with some punch, at least. Now if he could maybe replace the characters with better looking ones and find someone who can draw, this Chip Sansom guy might be able to get published in a few more reputable papers. What? The Born Loser appears in hundreds of newspapers and has been around since 1965, when it was started by Chip’s father Art? And it won the National Cartoonists Society Humor Comic Strip Award in 1987?
I was going to offer some more tips on how to be funny, but I’m starting to feel a bit ill. Also, I apparently don’t know shit about being funny. Just draw some stick figures, photocopy it a couple times, and paste the first asinine joke that comes into your mind into the speech bubbles. People will eat it up.
At least humor-blogs.com and my mother think I’m funny.
~Grumpy Diesel
Filed under: happy happy
WE messed up. Last night we gave in to the temptation of “going to bed”, instead of staying up until all hours of the night in order to bring you a piping hot post fresh from our mind’s oven first thing in the morning. Not that we know what a “piping hot post fresh from our mind’s oven” would look like, but we’re pretty sure it would be flaky on the outside, soft and warm on the inside, and go down nicely with a cup of coffee and/or tea. At least in our heads that’s what happens. Maybe in your heads it’s ladled into a bowl, where it’s drowned in milk and/or brown sugar then spooned steamy sweet into your mouths. Or flipped hot out of the skillet onto a plate, alongside crisp hash browns and bacon, then smothered in butter and/or maple syrup. Or maybe we should’ve had breakfast before stitting down at our computers this morning. We can’t be sure of anything right now, what with our lack of inspiration and/or growling stomachs. But that’s beside the point. The point, for we plan to come up with one before the end of this extremely long sentence, is that we forgot to work on our post yesterday and now we’re left with a computer screen as empty as our bellies.
Don’t blame us for our lack of foresight, we know we don’t. Instead, blame this past weekend’s Saturday Spin ala DJ LAMPSHA. After listening to the amazing/inspirational music provided by THE SIERRA LEONE REFUGEE ALL STARS, we just couldn’t wrap our brains around anything “fresh”, let alone “snarky”. Which is why we’ve decided to keep you all in “the zone” for one more day. And by “the zone” we mean Zen. The Zen Zone. Zen Zone? Sounds like a good place to go for a plate of organic fruit, topped off with yogurt, but it’s not (tho’, it might be, once we finish writing this post).
THE following is a trailer from BUDDHA-BAR NATURE, a beautiful film (as far as we can tell) described as a “sensory journey” through all that is natural and beautiful in our world. We stumbled over (as opposed to “in”) the BUDDHA-BAR last week, and were completely charmed by the music this world class establishment has become famous for over the years (“famous”, despite the fact that we’d never heard of the place until last Friday). Anyway, we figure this might be a nice way to ease into a new week and/or out of Passover (which ends tomorrow) and we hope you agree. Or at the very least, pretend to agree, because we’re feeling all “Zen” and “loving” and “peaceful” right now, and we’d hate to have to come down off our mountain and/or cloud in order to smack you in the head.
NO worries about the lack of laughter and/or snark around here — tomorrow all will be as it should, assuming DIESEL stops basking in the glow of his “new-found” popularity long enough to write something. That said, his new version of the “Caption Contest” is pretty darn clever and/or fun — and we happen to think a couple of our own offerings were especially hilarious. Not humor-blogs.com hilarious, mind you, but funny/haha, nonetheless.
~snuppy
Filed under: Lampsha Spins
Where to start? I’ve got so many links, I just couldn’t leave one out. You may have heard the story of this group, but if any bears repeating, it is theirs. I can’t do justice with words, but I will bring you a link to their music.
This week I am featuring THE SIERRA LEONE REFUGEE ALL STARS or alternately Sierra Leone’s Refugee All Stars. This group started off with just two members as you’ll see in the YouTube clip, but developed into a group of six musicians. The group was born of the strife from the civil war in their homeland of Sierra Leone in Western Africa. They fled from their homeland in the capital city to neighboring Guinea where the music sprang forth. A documentary was made of the group while in the refugee camp which brought the group its well deserved worldwide attention. The following clip shows the simplicity of their roots. Give a listen to all the links, they will alternately make you cry for their loss and shed tears of joy from their infectious roots as roots gets Reggae beat.
Click this link to be transported to the magic of their music and view information about their 90 minute documentary which will be aired on your local PBS station on June 26, 2007 at 10 PM.
Here are two excellent links to hear their music – the first is an NPR story dating back to 2005 and the second is to their MySpace page. Please click both where you will see additional information and really get to hear their beautiful music.
And as always, have a great weekend.
~ DJ LAMPSHA
spinning out of control since 2006
Central Snark 
