It’s fish fly season in the Pointes:
I think these are very cool, as bugs go — non-biting, non-pooping, mellow and beautiful — but they drive some people crazy. It’s the numbers. There is something a little unnerving about a cloud of huge bugs swarming every light, or even anything vaguely light-colored. Frequently you hear of cars sliding through intersections on a road covered with their carcasses. And then there’s the smell, which is distinctive but not overpowering. They bring the odor of the bottom with them to the surface. To me, it’s the smell of early summer.
This is from Saturday morning, under a security light at ThreeCapitalLetters Bank. I expect there’ll be a new fee for their cleanup on my next statement.
Seeing as how we were discussing him only last week, it seems fitting to kick things off today with the recent unlucky turn of events for the Painter of Light (registered trademark, all rights reserved). Which was? Oh, a little drunky-drivey over the weekend. No word on his BAC, and the story says the California Highway Patrol isn’t releasing it, although it does say he submitted to a blood test. Around here, they ask you to take a breath test, and you may refuse, although if they think you’re drunk, they can easily get a warrant for a blood draw, and then they add a refusal ticket to the mixed grill of misery you just ordered.
I’ve known quite a few people who’ve faced DUI charges in their time, and about half were the wakeup call that yes, you have a drinking problem. Here’s hoping Kinkade seeks help for not only his drinking, but also for the voice from the yawning void inside him that shrieks, YOU SELLOUT, YOU FILTHY WHORE at him in the wee hours. Yes, the one that drives him into the arms of the lady on the neon sign, the one under the blinking COCKT IL , the S and the A having burned out years ago. Strength and courage, Painter of Light.
Fun fact to know and tell: When Susan Orlean was writing her profile of Kinkade for the New Yorker, he challenged her to a wager that he would have a show in “a major museum,” sometime in their lifetime. Money on the line: One million dollars. She told this story at a seminar at Wallace House during my fellowship year at the University of Michigan, and at the time, and we all had a laugh over a) the ridiculousness of the boast; and b) the chance, however slim, that Orlean might be called upon to pay up, because of course even successful journalists are poor, relative to art tycoons like Kinkade. (Obviously, this was before the world learned about her house.)
Thanks to the first link in that previous paragraph, I found this LATimes story, which suggests Kinkade has not only a drinking problem but an impulse-control problem, too, even allowing as how the two go hand in hand:
And then there is Kinkade’s proclivity for “ritual territory marking,” as he called it, which allegedly manifested itself in the late 1990s outside the Disneyland Hotel in Anaheim.
“This one’s for you, Walt,” the artist quipped late one night as he urinated on a Winnie the Pooh figure, said Terry Sheppard, a former vice president for Kinkade’s company, in an interview.
Oh, well. A fellow human being’s delamination should not be cause for glee. So let’s not.
I don’t know if any of you noticed, but Holly Haimerl, Duncan “Whitebeard” Haimerl’s daughter, stopped by in the comments yesterday to direct us to the Legacy.com obituary on her father. She adds, It is very heartwarming to keep finding positive comments about my Dad on the net.
I got caught up with “Treme” yesterday, and I don’t want to spoil it for anyone who hasn’t, but let me just say this of Creighton Bernette, the character inspired by our own late community member, Ashley Morris: Lovely. And if you’re not reading the Back of Town blog, that’s your go-to place for Treme discussion. Dexter, do not miss Ray Shea’s excellent post on the use of music as a counterpoint to the narrative. I had an early inquiry about participating in this blog, I never really pursued it, and I’m glad I didn’t, because I’m not good enough to hang back of town. Also: Dark Brown Waffles, doing much excellent analysis.
Touchdown Jesus burns, spectacularly. Who knew statues could burn? When they’re made of fiberglass, they burn like the fires of hell. Thanks, Cooz.
Another redonkulous day of chores and obligations. Have at it, all. I’m off to, among other things, find out how two teenagers drove their car into the lake at 5 a.m. Kids, a tip: Tell your dad you lost control in a cloud of fish flies. Even money says it’s true.
judybusy said on June 15, 2010 at 9:57 am
I will readily admit I had no idea who Kinkade was until reading about him on this blog. I don’t know what this says about my cultural literacy.
Reading the Orlean house article made me think of all the tension between archtechts and the people who actually have to build them. I’m thinking of this because I’m just finishing Michael Pollan’s A Place of My Own, about his experience of building an architecht-designed “writer’s hut” in the mid-nineties. As always, the subject is just jumping-off point for meandering (but with a map!) to other topics. I highly recommend it if you’ve never read it.
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Mindy said on June 15, 2010 at 10:02 am
I’ve never heard it called Touchdown Jesus, just Big Butter Jesus. A friend from Cincinnati told me it was called that even before the Heywood Banks bit.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gq01UYiMyHg
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Joe Kobiela said on June 15, 2010 at 10:32 am
Those bugs really make a mess on a airplane winshield. I have hit them going into Lakefront airport in Cleveland. Of course hitting seagulls is worst. One of our pilots ran 3 or 4 thru the prop one night and they had to close the runway and get the fire truck out and hose the blood and gore off the runway. No plane damage but the gulls didn’t fair so well.
Pilot Joe
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jcburns said on June 15, 2010 at 10:37 am
Butter Jesus, for sure. And yeah, we just drove by it on Friday, en route back to the steamy ATL. And I swear, it wasn’t on fire then. Our take on it, especially when viewed in midwinter, was that the 60 foot representation seemed very displeased to be immersed in a pool of frozen water. Oh, the suffering, the indignity. And now, the flames of the heaven’s own fury. So, yeah, of COURSE they will rebuild. It’s not a sign or anything.
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LAMary said on June 15, 2010 at 10:55 am
We have Holy Touchdown here at the Lutheran Church in La Canada (that’s cahn ya da, not canada like the country).
http://www.yelp.com/biz_photos/K1KwyzY0CTseyKHAF1Nc0g?select=Tz8IbohBk_DQnEYSuh3BZg
Also, another one of Charlie Sheen’s very expensive cars got pushed off the road and down into a canyon. This is the second time in four months. Charlie wasn’t in the car, but the motor was running. No fish flies were involved.
http://www.nydailynews.com/gossip/2010/06/15/2010-06-15_charlie_sheens_car_stolen_from_gated_community_and_crashed_over_a_cliff_for_seco.html
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Jeff Borden said on June 15, 2010 at 11:12 am
My pal down in Butler County, Ohio, reports the Cincinnati Enquirer had this headline over its story on the lightning strike to the Christ sculpture: “Jesus statue destroyed by act of God.”
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Snarkworth said on June 15, 2010 at 11:12 am
LAMary, La Canada (also transliterated “LOCK in YA da”)is a worthy shibboleth in my old home state. Another is “LAN caster”, which ignorant east-coast newsies pronounce “LANK aster”.
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brian stouder said on June 15, 2010 at 11:24 am
I was once told by a Keystone stater that it’s “Lanxter”
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Sue said on June 15, 2010 at 11:28 am
Nancy, I apologize if you’ve already covered this Michigan story. If you haven’t, here it is. I would like to laugh at how ridiculous it is, except the sadness of it stops me.
http://gawker.com/5563194/notes-from-michigan-insuranceless-woman-shoots-self-to-get-medical-care
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Snarkworth said on June 15, 2010 at 11:34 am
Indeed, Brian, “Lanxter” sounds about right. Here in the 13 Original Colonies, the towns have British accents.
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Deborah said on June 15, 2010 at 11:41 am
I just laughed myself silly over that jesus statue, what a scream. Check out http://www.catholicshopper.com/products/inspirational_sport_statues.html for some more laughs, figurines of Jesus playing sports with kids, make sure to click through to all the pages.
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Deborah said on June 15, 2010 at 11:45 am
OK, this is weird. Am I being blocked or something? Yesterday I submitted a comment that didn’t show up and today, the same thing. I sent a test and that went through but not the original comment?
what I sent originally was this http://www.catholicshopper.com/products/inspirational_sport_statues.html
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nancy said on June 15, 2010 at 11:49 am
Sorry, Deborah. You went into the spam folder. I unspammed and published what was there.
These things, they happen.
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prospero said on June 15, 2010 at 11:55 am
I could see where the insects could produce some high anxiety in a large part of the populate. southeast Georgia, small black flies with bright red thoraxes serve this dubious environmental purpose. They don’t but they sure do swarm. What sets the “love bugs” apart, their raison d’être. the source of their relative insectoid immortality, is that you see that red thorax at both ends. Love Bugs do not fly solo into that Great Windshield in the Sky. They don’t mate for life like swans, these flies copulate for life.
Wonder if the Lake Ste. Claire carwash had anything to do with Rebecca DeMornay.
What could this fellow’s parents have been thinking? Did Tom Pynchon and Kingsley Amis collaborate on a book about namin’ no babies? Was the book made into a film by Stanley Kubrick with the cast of Monty Python?
Intriguing video about New York City. The chord changes and vocal in this song are Nick Drakish, which is a very good thing.
Beck’s ludicrous book:
Thrillers often are marred by laughable prose, but few have stumbled along with language as silly as this one. When Gardner’s son, Noah, meets patriot Molly Ross early in the novel, Beck writes: “Something about this woman defied a traditional chick-at-a-glance inventory.” It gets worse: When Noah notices that a few strands of Molly’s hair have fallen out of place, Beck tells us, “these liberated chestnut curls framed a handsome face made twice as radiant by the mysteries surely waiting just behind those light green eyes.”
Twice as radiant. Guess that’s quantified in lumens, or would it be Watts? Incandescent or fluorescent?
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MarkH said on June 15, 2010 at 12:07 pm
I worked in Lancaster, OH,and believe you me, there, it was pronounced “LANK-uh-sterrr”. Working on radio in the Hocking Valley, that became important. But I was always told that in PA and CA, it was LAN-caster.
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Jeff Borden said on June 15, 2010 at 12:17 pm
Prospero,
The masochists at Media Matters pretty much read the whole thing and, if anything, you’ve found one of the better written paragraphs. One of the passages they found has the hero, Noah, going to bed with the female lead character but in a chaste way. Noah tells the comely but virginal figure that one of his rules is “Don’t tease the panther.”
Is this what teabaggers call the penis? A panther? Or is Glenn Beck, who still looks to me like a slightly overweight used car salesman from a small market who thinks driving a red Taurus is the height of cool, really referring to his dick as a panther? The mind boggles.
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Sue said on June 15, 2010 at 12:19 pm
Prospero, MediaMatters has a plot breakdown that shows what a truly awesome book Glenn Beck’s ghostwriters put together. I really can see Matt Damon in this role when it’s made into a film, he would have a lot of fun with it. Although I imagine Kirk Cameron’s already been cast.
http://mediamatters.org/blog/201006110032
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Jeff Borden said on June 15, 2010 at 12:27 pm
Sue,
This book reads so badly I am not sure a ghostwriter was involved. This makes SheWho the snowbilly grifter’s book look like “Pride and Prejudice.”
We sure live in a weird country. A few years ago, Glennda Beck was a disgraced shock jock, a morning zoo moron, whose on-air highlights included calling and mocking the wife of a competitor after she miscarried their child. Now, he gives commencement addresses, admittedly at a five-and-dime university like Liberty; drives a political movement; and writes best-selling books.
When I look at Glennda, at She-Who, at the Kardashians and those pinheads with the eight kids who seem to live on the covers of grocery store checkout magazines, I understand why so many people say, “Only in America.”
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Sue said on June 15, 2010 at 12:33 pm
Jeff: Nope, it’s true, which actually kind of disappointed me, because I want to lay all the blame for this book on him. And I do give Glenn credit for being honest, although I think it’s more because he just doesn’t know when to shut up.
From Media matters:
‘On the title page, Beck shares credit with three contributors. He calls the conspiracy novel “my story,” but he says Jack Henderson, one of his contributors, “went in and he put the words down.”‘
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Jeff Borden said on June 15, 2010 at 12:40 pm
Sue,
You’re right. I spoke too soon. I’ve just visited the MM site and they have a story mentioning Glennda’s collaborators. Apparently, his publisher spent all the money on those collaborators. Clearly, there was no editor beyond Microsoft’s spell check function, LOL.
Well, as Glenn says, “Don’t tease the panther!”
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Rana said on June 15, 2010 at 1:17 pm
What gets me about the panther-teasing segment is that what apparently counts as “teasing” is the female character putting her cold feet on the legs of the male character. Most folks I know find that a turn-off, not the reverse.
Best comment I’ve seen about the burning Jesus: “He is resin.”
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Peter said on June 15, 2010 at 1:25 pm
Deborah, someone gave my son the Jesus goes golfing with the kids statue and we couldn’t stop laughing, especially after my son noted that Jesus didn’t line his putt properly.
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brian stouder said on June 15, 2010 at 1:30 pm
Rana – Ha!! You made my guffaw!
Mark – I still don’t like the circle- three-times Piper in AZ; but the established fact that the folks were a family of out-of-staters (from Florida) on vacation does make me more agree with your initial assessment of a mis-fueling (or whatever) than my initial assessment.
So indeed, being wrong as often as I am will occasionally pay dividends!
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jcburns said on June 15, 2010 at 1:40 pm
MarkH is exactly right on the Ohio and Pennsylvania Lancaster pronunciations. The last time I went through Lancaster, Ohio (this past spring), I was pleased to see I didn’t have to go through. Bypassed!
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LAMary said on June 15, 2010 at 1:55 pm
Don’t be so sure about Sir Jock Stirrup. The Guardian used to be notorious for typos. His name could be Frank. For years Tatler magazine referred to the Guardian as the Gruniad. When citing a Gruniad article about the prime minister in the sixties, Harold Wilson, Tatler referred to him as Prime Minister Wislon.
My favorite Tatler thing was referring to intoxicated famous people being “tired and emotional” as in, “Princess Margaret appeared to be very tired and emotional at the cocktail party.”
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Dexter said on June 15, 2010 at 3:11 pm
MarkH is indeed right. LANK-uh-sterr.
Thanks for the tip, nance; I read Ray Shea’s post. Outstanding. I guess it’s time to post a photo of Ashley Morris’s memorial stone, for those who have not seen it.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/editor/4299680942/in/pool-ashleymorris
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LAMary said on June 15, 2010 at 3:21 pm
Dorothy, here is Mexican squash. It’s lighter green than zucchini and a little chubbier.
http://www.better-produce.com/images/varieties_grey.gif
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MarkH said on June 15, 2010 at 3:24 pm
“Knife”?
Seeing the birth and death dates, it just now hit me Ashley was WAY too young to go.
Thanks, Dexter.
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Dexter said on June 15, 2010 at 3:26 pm
Some guys just love to mark their territory , I guess. My army buddy Bill from St. Louis was fond of recounting how he peed under the arch when it was under construction. I have posted here of how my Pomeranian took a leak right square onto Plymouth Rock many years ago.
And that leads me to my favorite story about this, involving the former third mic of The Ron and Fez Show on satellite radio. Davey Mac had to go and wasn’t aware of where he was going, except he knew it was a wall of a building.
New York City, the Israeli Consulate . Uh-Oh. Arrest, interrogation, fined, and let go pending his court date. Helluva fine.
I love the story about the Detroit Corktown homeowners who would sit by their windows with high pressure hoses and drench Tiger fans who dared to piss on their lawns. I always loved that. I am against public displays of peeing.
Well, unless it’s a place like Vietnam, where all males just stopped along the road and went…there was no shame, no hiding, just routine, everywhere along the road. Maybe I should have tried that once, but it never crossed my mind. I wonder if it’s still the same. My story here is forty years old, fer crissakes…speaking of which, right-wing AM radio station WLW, Cincinnati was going nutso with the chuckles over the burning Jesus. No sympathy whatsoever.
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MarkH said on June 15, 2010 at 3:55 pm
JEFF BORDEN, HAVE I GOT A DEAL FOR YOU:
http://valleycitizen.com/stories_news_detail.php?pkStories=196
This is taking place in the peaceful little Mormonized (natch) valley on the other side of the Teton Range from us here in Jackson. The idea of a simultaneous appearance by Widespread Panic is, well, I can’t even touch that.
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Deborah said on June 15, 2010 at 4:04 pm
It’s interesting how these D-listers get religion and start making the mega bucks, like Glennda (thanks Jeff B, another great name that’s up there with $P). That crowd has so few really talented people to call their own, they just go ape-shit over anyone who talks their talk on the tee vee and other entertainment venues.
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Jeff Borden said on June 15, 2010 at 4:15 pm
MarkH,
You rascal! How many folks will show up to see this rodeo clown? I wonder if Widespread Panic will draw a larger crowd?
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Sue said on June 15, 2010 at 4:35 pm
Hmmm, I think Sharron Angle may be the prototype for Glenn Beck’s Molly character. It’s the “my goodness” that gives it away – such a sweet little kickass, politely suggesting assassination!
“If this Congress keeps going the way it is, people are really looking toward those Second Amendment remedies and saying my goodness what can we do to turn this country around? I’ll tell you the first thing we need to do is take Harry Reid out.”
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Linda said on June 15, 2010 at 4:43 pm
Is this what teabaggers call the penis? A panther?
If so, the mind boggles at what they call those things the rest of us call teabags (under certain circumstances). The kittens? The bobcats. I’m not sure I want to know.
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LAMary said on June 15, 2010 at 4:59 pm
Not only am I sure I don’t want to know. I don’t even like thinking about it.
“Is this what teabaggers call the penis? A panther?”
One eyed trouser snake is much better. Or pork sword.
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coozledad said on June 15, 2010 at 5:05 pm
I think, in the words of Freshly Squeezed Cynic (one of Roy’s commenters), those would be “The eggplants of personal responsibility”.
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Jeff Borden said on June 15, 2010 at 5:07 pm
Ah, LAMary, it is so nice to see the classics. LOL.
The review of Glennda’s book in the Washington Post is devastating. The guy notes how there is almost no action in this so-called thriller and that characters are introduced and then forgotten, the main characters contradict themselves on numerous occasions, the plot holes rival the Grand Canyon.
Sadly, this will not matter to the legions of mopes who listen to and watch this tubby little fool. I look forward to the angry letters the Post review undoubtedly will unleash. They’ll be choice wingnuttia.
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brian stouder said on June 15, 2010 at 5:13 pm
Interesting Beck article. Years ago, when I first heard Beck, I thought he was at least OK; he has a funny collection of voices and so on, and seemed pleasant enough.
His politics were occasionally a bit weird, but after 2001, everything was kind of buggy, really.
So in the middle of the decade, I had this vaguely positive opinion of him, based on nothing much. The first place I heard the name Terri Schiavo was there, and indeed he literally rode that sad story to death. I missed his (presumeably gradual?) degeneration into complete lunacy, but anymore whenever I tune past him, he seems to be deeply within some rhetorical cave or other, bravely shadow-boxing with whatever The Main Evil Thing of the Day is.
By way of saying – (and tying in with today’s title) I guess I once caught a glimpse of the glitter that others see when they look upon Beck; but now all I see is Bugs
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0470705/
(A troubling movie about small-ball* black helicopters/they’re coming to take me away/anti-government paranoia)
*small ball as in – NOT including fantasies of destroying Federal buildings and igniting a Civil War, but instead just self-destructive and sad
edit: I think the teabagger nutballs might call their penis the old bolt-action single shot, or their Founding Father, or their Shining City on a Hill, or….
Edit 2 – it will be nice to hear President Obama tonight; I am looking forward to a main dish of informed decision, with a dash of anger and an interesting, saucey mix of responsibility-assumption and self-effacing humility. Then the Flying Monkeys of the right wing radio airwaves can spend the next month playing the 8 or 10 straw-man words they collectively choose to knock the stuffing out of.
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nancy said on June 15, 2010 at 5:59 pm
…or Little Elvis.
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prospero said on June 15, 2010 at 6:23 pm
Re Mr. Haimerl. I went to UGA Grady School. Pretty damn good school. You know, Ralph McGill, Reg Murphy. I had a couple of professors that just knew better than to insist on excellence. They insisted absolutely on diligence and economy.
We had copy writing at some ungodly hour in the morning (it was still dark), but the drill was the same every day. Prof would spin a story, wreck on the highway or family tragedy, sometimes something threatening civilization, we’d get a little time to ask 4+1 questions, and we’d be expected to bang out a cogent story in about 10 minutes. Copy would be ripped from our manual typewriters with about ten seconds to go. We got about half a minute to mark up our copy.
Then we’d face review by peers. I’d say we were all generous to each other, and I’d say we were all generous, because we all understood this was difficult and we were all in the same boat.
That guy was is Elliot Brack. He published a barely suburban Atlanta weekly, that was one of the first such that actually expanded to two or three times a week by focusing intensely on local news. Not floral club announcements, local news. Real newspaperman.
His car was like Clint Eastwood’s in True Crime. You know, Krystal wrappers and beer cans. But he knew exactly what he was talking about. He exposed us to a real newspaper world. We had to report facts. Surmise and opinion weren’t acceptable options. I don’t know how many of us became working reporters. I know everyone of us was well trained to do the job.
These days, people think you can be a reporter by plagiarizing real reporters. You can actually pick and choos within reported stories to make any sort of asinine claim you want to on the web.
So Nancy’s story about Duncan Hailmert, that puts me in a nostalgic mood. What passes for reporting on the web is a combination of laziness, axes to grind, outright and abject theft of work product. I graduated from a great Jschool. I was taught not to jump conclusions, and to track everything down. If somebody finds those values on the net, other than maybe Juan Cole, I don’t see it.
Far as tonight’s address, lot’s of liberaller than thou rebranded progressives are claiming Obama should channel Jimma Ed. Right. He should be tough and call for energy austerity. But not too tough and not too much austerity. Here are two things to consider.
He’s supposed to create jobs but the idea of bumping Bush’s real (counting the adventurism) deficit are supposed to make our knees weak like little weenies. And BP trashed the Gulf after meeting with Cheney, but, really, what’s available is putting those assholes into receivership and just nationalizing their ass. How would any of this play with Brains like squeezed-out teabags. And Progressives thought it was a matter of a magic wand.
Obama’s in the most untenable place in the history of the American presidency, because of Rove politics and his own supporters’ entirely endeserved self-righteousness.
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alex said on June 15, 2010 at 6:30 pm
In hindsight, the Black Panthers were a whole lot less scary to me than these pink ones, even if the intentions of both are similar: To fuck da man in the ass by any means necessary.
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coozledad said on June 15, 2010 at 6:43 pm
You just know when the Glenn Beck sex tape surfaces, it’ll be animation.
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Jeff Borden said on June 15, 2010 at 7:12 pm
Cooz, please. I will be eating dinner soon.
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LAMary said on June 15, 2010 at 7:34 pm
Claymation, I think. Like Davey and Goliath.
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joodyb said on June 15, 2010 at 7:36 pm
MarkH, amusing to note that the cutline atop that valleycitizen post says “Glenn Beck will perform.”
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Kim said on June 15, 2010 at 9:45 pm
Nobody on Treme? Just wow. What a big wow. I kept thinking the whole run-up was a red herring. Watch it if you have HBO. Wait for it if you’re a Netflixer. I will waste at least an hour tomorrow on that blog, Nance, so thanks for that.
judybusy@1 – Love that book, and I have dreamed of a similar place for years. That, and the author’s Harper’s piece from way back on how to grow (and use) poppies.
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coozledad said on June 15, 2010 at 10:23 pm
LA Mary: Or Gumby.
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Scout said on June 15, 2010 at 11:58 pm
I was born in LANK-uh-sterr Pennsylvania. Most of my family still lives there. You can always tell a tourist because they invariably pronounce it Laan-caster.
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MarkH said on June 16, 2010 at 12:06 am
Or, Clutch Cargo, where only the mouth moves, in a bizarre way.
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prospero said on June 16, 2010 at 12:46 am
Kobe walks too. But only so you don;t notice. Mainly what he does is rvery dirty thing. He reaches in, and when he reaches in he’s cheating on Jordan. Jordan’s greatest moment, he cheated. He knows it. He pushed off,committed a cheat offensive foul. But Republicans buy shows too.
Treme is good, but I’ll take Raylan Givens. And the last episode, holy crap. Almost as good at making all of us face up to what we all need to to face up to. And there’s Saving Grace. Mad Men, revolting turds. Grace, God knows. I don’t actually care what happens to Don Draper. He’s an unmitigated jerk. So is his wife. I have to know what happens to Grace. You see the difference.
You can do the no irresponsible provide everybody in purgatory. What an immense load of crap. I want to know why Doc was always short of breath. Never mattered the scene, Matthew Fox was always short of breath. It seems to me, this is the single most overrated TV show that ever lived. Was the mystery even close to being as interesting as Jared and the bastards that stole his family, or who fucked over John Doe? Not close.
Why do all these people think the totally dreary frackin’ Gallactica was remotely good? Its only interest was whether or not it was liberal or Cheney. If it waas Cheney, I spit on this horse-shit.
I only bring this up because y’all tend toward smart. Ever see The Proposition? It’s violent. It’s brilliant, in my estimation. There’s good, I mean the best you could expect from human beings. It might not be what you expected.
Damn good movie
When Cheney had his meeting, he told these assholes they could ignore safety in drilling the gulf. Is their anybody so fucking stuoid they didn’t connect Halliburton with this shit? Cheney fucked everything and bailed. He’s a ccriminal.
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Denice B. said on June 16, 2010 at 12:52 am
Clutch Cargo! God that show was awful! But, like a car accident, I just couldn’t look away! My eyes glued to those lips!!!
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Sue said on June 16, 2010 at 8:20 am
Davey and Goliath, Gumby, Clutch Cargo…
I prefer Mr. Bill, I think the story arc works better. I mean, Mr. Bill endures many violent indignities because of Mr. Hands? How could that not work?
Ooooooh, nooooooooooo……
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brian stouder said on June 16, 2010 at 8:52 am
Ha!!
I believe Sue just won the thread, in a come-from-behind surprise (so to speak)
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Dorothy said on June 16, 2010 at 8:52 am
When I lived in Butler County, OH (Hamilton specifically) I used to drive past that church going to and from my job at Centimark Roofing in Franklin OH from April 2002 to July 2003. I think they were in the process of building TJ around the time we moved in September 2004. My husband remembers better than I do.
Thanks for the picture Mary. I think I did find one the other day.
As far as alternate “panther” names, I liked one I heard Robins Williams say in one of his stand-up routines: The Incredible Heat-Seeking Moisture Missile!
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brian stouder said on June 16, 2010 at 9:00 am
Dorothy – now that you mention it, I’ve often used a Robin Williams-supplied name, when referring to the Incredible Heat-Seeking Moisture Missile:
Mr Happy! Always struck me as a great name
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