Friday, November 30, 2007

Oh the irony

For those of you on the lookout for new music, check out Hype Machine. It scours music blogs and finds mp3s that people have posted recently. Oh, and it's searchable. I found this band "MGMT" (pronounced "management") that I have been listening to quite a bit the past week. It's some sort of psychedelic disco punk space rock or some such. Time to Pretend is undoubtedly a great song.

Johnny Cash owns Chuck Norris. And thats before Norris became a shill for insane GOP presidential candidate Mike Huckabee.

Speaking of the GOP, anyone watch that Youtube debate earlier this week? I tuned in for the raw comic gold, then turned it off after the catfight between Mitt Romney and Rudy 9/11.

If you don't read the ridiculously profane Thursday Afternoon NFL Dick Joke Jambaroo you are missing out. What? It's been going on all season? As always, you can count on the goat for timely links.

That's all I got, enjoy the death of freedom.

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Kat Williams=Hilarious

If its not Scottish ...

I came across this little article in my daily internet travels. It seems the powers that be in Scotland decided they needed a new slogan to bring in the tourists. I guess "Best Small Country in the World" was getting a little tired. So they dropped 125,000 Euros to bring in the best slogan writers ever.

And the exciting new catchphrase dreamed up by top advertising brains is..."Welcome to Scotland".

Really? That is crap. William Wallace is rolling in his grave. Granted, it is part of a larger whole that includes catchphrases for different major cities. Forest for the trees and all that. Although "Birthplace of Charles Rennie Mackintosh" doesn't really inspire you to visit Glasgow, does it?

In an attempt to right this horrid injustice I tried to come up with a few slogans of my own. Granted I've never been to Scotland, but surely combining my Scottish ancestry (MacFarlane clan, holla!) and creative skills can come up with something better. Hopefully not involving the Loch Ness monster and kilts.

Hey, wanna play some golf or bagpipes?

Scotland: Less drunk than Ireland!

Visit the barren highlands of Scotland

How not Scots?

Come see people throw those big railroad tie things, what're they called? Cabers? Yeah, Cabers! In Scotland!

OK thats all I got, writing slogans for something you know little about is tougher than I thought. If you have any suggestions of you own, have at it in the comments.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Warning: May cause emotions

This video combines two of my most favorite things: Boston Red Sox Fans and retards. What's that? You can't tell the difference? ZING

OK now I feel kinda bad for making fun. You know what they say -- It takes a big man to cry. And it takes a bigger man to laugh at that man.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Talk radio sucks

The other day I was driving around listening to shitty Metallica songs (an amazing way to clear the mind and come up with new ideas) and I stumbled across what may be the ultimate question:

What is stupider, talk radio or internet forums?

Both have assured anonymity for the participants. I guess talk radio hosts aren't anonymous, but they are blowhards and douchebags, so whatever. Although anyone who has ever looked at a discussion thread on Fark knows the internet has no shortage of pretentious assholes either.

It's kind of fun to think about the differences between the two mediums. On one hand, talk radio offers old media types a way to limit the discussion while still reaching out to the common clay of today's society -- you know, morons. On the other hand, the internet forum is accessible to anyone with a computer and an opinion, which is a blessing and a curse.

Lets break it down:

Patron Saint
Radio: Rush Limbaugh
Internet: Al Gore


Radio: The hosts and producers -- paunchy assholes with inflated opinions
Internet: "Mods" -- pasty losers with an axe to grind

Radio: Construction workers
Internet: Office workers

George Bush is supported by:

Radio: Conservative idiots
Internet: Liberal trolls

Radio: Current events, shit they stole from blogs
Internet: Current events, making fun of other mediums

Greatest Achievement:

Radio: Poisoned the well of American political debate
Internet: LOLCats

Radio: Losers who spend hours calling in
Internet: Underemployed jackasses

So there you have it, radio is clearly dumber. Although if anonymous makes another comment that completely misses/ignores the point of a post I may change my mind.

Monday, November 26, 2007

Penguins are awesome

Last night I was watching March of the Penguins (What? It's not like there was a football game on or anything) and I came to the conclusion that penguins are great. Easily in the animal top 10 and probably the only birds on the list.

Listening to the dulcet tones of Morgan Freeman describe those little suckers braving the cold of Antarctica on their 70-mile walk to and from the sea every couple months, I realized something. Awwwwwwwwwww.

Looking around the internets, there are a ton of homemade penguin movies set to electronica for some reason. Does the birds flightless nature mean they take e-bombs? I guess chilling under the aurora australis is kind of like being around a bunch of free-basing glowstick dancers.

You may remember the Futurama episode were Bender thinks he's a penguin. I just read the script and it was good. Penguins only have two goals in life: 1. Acquire food 2. Frolic. Always remember the wisdom of Free Waterfall Sr. who once said, "Look nobody enjoys shooting penguins. But if you have to shoot penguins, well you might as well enjoy it." Also the buttocks are nature's pocket.

In other news, this little gif amuses me.

As per usual I am a little late picking up on this whole penguin trend -- there have been a couple animated features in the past year or so capitalizing on penguin popularity. But to be honest, I prefer real life penguins, not the surfing or dancing variety.

Anyway, here's a video. I think its from the british version of Planet Earth. David Attenborough > Sigourney Weaver

Friday, November 23, 2007

How do it feel to be high without drugs?

In regards to a couple commenters who have been asking for posts on various topics, I'll paraphrase Slug from Atmosphere: I have nothing but respect for my audience. NOW SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Yeah J-Roll won the MVP. Huzzah! Bask in his reflected glory white people!

Yeah I ride a fucking bicycle. What's it to you? I'm a communist (also poor), no real news there.

The reason I haven't had any posts up this week is I've been sick with some sort of flu-like virus. Coughing up yellow shit, breaking a sweat. Shaking like a leaf. But that's what I get, for pouring my own poison and throwing it back[dead prez].

That said, here's some links to consider while reveling in the knowledge of who Sweet Caroline (BAH BAH BAH) is.

The strangest disaster in the world. Sucks to be you, Africa.

Dammit Woman! Get me a beer or I'll shoot our goats! Ha ha. Wisconsin.

Here's five drinks that bartenders hate to make.

And finally, no fainting goats post is complete without a video.

Friday, November 16, 2007

Random Friday Videos

Killing time til quitting time by looking at videos on the Youtube.
Here's a couple "good" ones.

First we have the Brohemian Rhapsody. I just wish it had more Jager Bombs.

And second we have possibly the greatest video in the history of GI Joe. Just sayin...

Living in the fifth dimension. With lizards.

There was some big baseball news yesterday. No not Barry Bonds' indictment. Although I guess some people still give a shit about perjury or something. Me? I perjure myself on a regular basis. And by perjure myself I mean sit alone in my darkened apartment quietly whistling the Battle Hymn of the Republic.

No, the big news is noted time traveler Darren Daulton has finally released his book, detailing his life in the fifth dimension and providing his answers to life, the universe and everything. "If they only knew" takes a look at the the metaphysical relationships that shape our world, or something.

For a taste of what to expect, here's some downloadable audio where Dutch talks about experiencing different planes existence and realms. Also astrotravel.

I was poking around on Daulton's website, and I have to say the FAQs about the book are pretty amusing. "You were a baseball player, why are you writing about something nobody cares about?" and "I have seen you on TV but the pastor at my church has never said anything about this stuff. Why should I believe you?" for example. Apparently the webmaster decided not to post the "How does it feel to be crazier than Carl Everett?" question I submitted.

So if your not satisfied with surfer's explanations of how the universe fits together, check out Daulton's book. I already ordered mine from Amazon. The user reviews there are is pretty compelling. Like this:

At the heart of the book we find a man who believes that he has been chosen. Chosen?..for what u ask?...TO AWAKEN US.

There you have it. Darren Daulton is Jesus.

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Andrew WK adopts staunch party-advocacy position

Yeah, that headline is from The Onion. Fucking sue me. Blood from a stone, darling.

Andrew WK is one of the most underrated musicians ever. He's like some sort of lovechild of a coked up Steve Perry and i dunno, uh, Slayer? Frank Zappa could be in there somewhere. The man makes music, it's the truth. Take it from WK himself.

"It's the truth. This music is the truth and it's also freedom. It's so big, so huge and so spanning. So many things, so much, and so true. This is the most wonderful thing that's ever happened in the history of human kind."

This post probably would have been a lot more timely back in 2001. Get wet.

Everything I need to know about 18-year-olds, I learned last night

So it's been a while since I've posted (my debut post) and my Deathmatch: Best Simpsons Episodes post never really came to fruition. It probably would have been pretty cool, but it would have required me to post at work and also use my computer at home to pirate the requisite multi-media enhancements. If you don't know me very well, we lost my ambition level at "it would have required me to..."
Now that we got that out of the way, lately my choices in female companionship have come under scrutiny within our social circle and have been the target of unsolicited personal attacks. I would like to take a moment here to justify my actions and defend my value system.
So without further ado, let's bring the classiness of Fainting Goats down a couple notches. Here's what I found out about 18-year-olds first hand last night:

1. 18-year-olds will drink you under the table. The conspiratorial novelty of procuring alcohol whilst underage is pretty much at its peak and they revel in this with gusto. Plus, if you're outpacing me, you're probably ignoring very serious problems in your life.

2. 18-year-olds like sex more than you do. I know, I was scared too. Nothing makes you feel more like a crusty old bastard then having this nubile little thing ready to go and the only thing you can think of is the Snu-Snu episode of Futurama.

3. 18-year-olds can cum solely by oral stimulation of their nipples. I'm no player, but I've never encountered this in a girl ever. All I can say is that it's fantastic. Additionally, it's the only thing that saved my sorry ass from the whole Snu-Snu debacle.

4. 18-year-olds make some of the cutest noises you've ever heard and some of the scariest body contortions you've ever witnessed when they make their Oh-face. Seriously, I stopped for a second because I thought I broke her or triggered a previously benign case of epilepsy.

5. 18-year-olds will give you head for an hour and then take a sip from a glass of water so they can give you head for another hour. It's just as awesome as it sounds. I can never go back to the two-licks lollipop treatment followed by the desperate "is that good?" mutter that seems to be so popular in my actual demographic.

6. 18-year-olds that are on the rag will unprovokingly offer the dirt pipe as a legitimate substitute. On the first date, with no condom and no qualms about busting inside them. This takes at least three dates in my actual demographic

7. 18-year-olds don't know very much about guys. You never have to say to a guy, "I don't know if you're into anal..."

8. 18-year-olds make the world a better a place to live. There's always been this void in my life... I've tried filling it with work, friends, alcohol, drugs... but those were all dead ends. I've found my calling.

Yes, today was the best day of my life.

Yes, today my breakfast tasted better than any meal you've ever eaten.

And by breakfast, I mean sex with an 18-year-old dark-haired, light-eyed hottie.

It's a brave new world

I started a new job today, editing these daily local interwebs in earnest. Basically it just means I have to get up earlier than I have in nearly 6 years. No more Jim Beam fueled Wire marathons where I stay up until 4 am unfortunately(?). But it could benefit you, the three fainting goats' readers, because I can bang out all my work in about an hour and then spend the rest of my morning hours searching google images. That said, here's a much-delayed philler post, starting off with a quote from The Wire (Season 2) that I find amusing.

"Let me ask you something important. Do you like fake tits? I can't decide. Thus far undecided on fake tits."

I recommend you check out this site. Warning: May cause hallucinatory nightmares. If that kind of interactivity is too much for you, you are a square. But try this one out instead. It's G-rated and the creator probably wasn't on DMT. Although if you seriously do want to trip, go here. I can vouch for its effectiveness.

Ha ha. Crack!

You know where I look to determine financial trends? Jay-Z. Seriously.

On a serious note --Here's the story behind the famous Marlboro Marine photo. Two lives intertwined, etc. Happy belated Veterans Day!

If that wasn't sad enough for you, how bout this?

That's it I'm going to go cook myself some pancakes.

Monday, November 12, 2007

Random AP gold

In my many hours of scouring the AP wire, sometimes I come across something that makes me wonder if the author maybe isn't having a bit of fun. For example this is from the latest writer's strike story.

"As a writer, this is what you do. You have no other way to truly express yourself," said screenwriter John Ridley, whose credits include "Undercover Brother."
I'm sure readers across the country were quite concerned about how one of the creative geniuses behind Undercover Brother is expressing himself. The article also quotes one of the writers of Deuce Bigelow.

Then again ...

Thursday, November 08, 2007

Except Chaos

Fear is an interesting emotion. It's everywhere these days. Turn on the news and it's terror this and killing that. With the falling dollar and runaway trains and stormwater management and Hillary Clinton it seems everyone has something to be scared of.

Not me. I respect the legacy of FDR and the New Deal. The only time I feel even an inkling of fear is when I dream about raccoons. Those fuckers are nasty and spread disease. But then I'm unconscious so I don't think it counts.

Well, I used to be scared of sharks but now I know dolphins will protect me.

The other day I was riding my bike and some unknown in a white Mercedes SUV swerved at me for no apparent reason. In that split second my emotions were racing from vulnerability to anger to acceptance to pity to yearning and back again. But the one thing I didn't feel was fear.

As a guide I always try to remember this anecdote from the late great American Patriot Hunter S. Thompson.

Fear? I know not fear. There are only moments of confusion. Some of them are deeply stamped on my memory and a few will haunt me forever.

One of my ugliest and most confused moments, I think, was when I was driving a junk Cadillac down the Coast Highway to Big Sur and a large mountain lion jumped into the moving car.

I had stopped for a moment beside the road to put out a newspaper fire in the backseat when this huge cat either jumped or fell off a cliff and landed on its back in the gravel right beside me. I was leaning over the side and pouring beer on the fire when it happened.

It was late in the day and I was alone. When the beast his the ground I had a moment of total confusion. And so did the lion. The I jumped back in the car and took off down the hill in low gear, thinking to escape certain death or at least mutilation.
The beast had tried to pounce on me from above, but missed. ... And now, as I shifted the junker into second, I heard a terrible snarling and realized that the cat was running right behind me and gaining ... (I was, in fact, Terrified at that moment.) ...And I think I must have gone temporarily insane when the goddamn thing came up beside me and jumped right into the car through the passenger-side window like a bomb.

It bounced against the dashboard and somehow turned the radio volume all the way up. Then it clawed me badly on my arm and one leg. That is why I shudder every time I hear a Chuck Berry tune.

I can still smell the beast. I heard myself screaming as I tried to steer. The blood was all over the seat. The music was deafening and the cat was still snarling and clawing at me. Then it scrambled over the seat and into the back, right into the pile of still-burning newspapers. I heard a screech of pain and saw the cat trying to hurl itself through the back window.

We were still rolling along at about thirty miles per hour when I noticed my ball-peen hammer sticking out of the mangled glove compartment.
I grabbed the hammer with my right hand, steering with my left, and swung it wildly over my shoulder at the mountain lion.

Whack! I felt it hit something that felt vaguely like a carton of eggs, and then there was silence. No resistance in the backseat. Nothing.

I hit the brakes and pulled over. My hand was still on the hammer when I looked back and saw that I had somehow hit the animal squarely on top of its head and driven the iron ball right through its skull and into its brain. It was dead. Hunched on its back and filling the whole rear of the car, which was filling up with blood.

I was no longer confused.

Tuesday, November 06, 2007

Still killing time

I have reached the end of the internet waiting for these stupid votes to be counted. No one cares about municipal elections anyway, right? County commissioners? Really? Why can't the votes be instantly tabulated via some sort of electronic device. The electoral college can eat my ass. Fucking bitches.

This video is far from the best I've seen over the last 2 hours, but its what I just watched, so there.

Down with the H.R.G.

Sitting here in the newsroom on election night -- seven hours of boredom followed by an hour and a half of screaming and gnashing of teeth.

So how better to kill some time than with a rambling post about something I watched on TV last night while drinking delicious Wild Turkey?

As I may have mentioned before in this space, I have gotten into the show "Heroes" in its second season. As it has progressed I have slowly been able to determine what the hell is going on. Although not having the first season as background means I make the confused dog noise (Aroo?) at least twice an episode.

Another plus is that shit finally started going down this week. Hiro returned from fuedal Japan, but it turns out the guy he taught how to be a hero and then stole his girl and then thought he killed is actually still alive and hasn't aged at all in 400 years. Oh healing ability, is there anything you can't do?

Anyway, one of the best (and by best I mean most confusing) characters is horned rimmed glasses (aka HRG). Dude is the father of Claire (the indestructable cheerleader who I guess is the key to it all). I especially enjoy the Dawson's Creek style dialogue they have i.e. "You cannot date!" "You're not the boss of me!" and so on.

Anyway, he's pretty badass. He shot some Russian guy last week, after using "The Haitian" to torture him via memory loss. I imagine if you do not watch this show, none of this makes any sense whatsoever, so lets switch it up.

The writers in Hollywood went on strike this week. This means new episodes of all your favorite shows like "The Big Bang Theory" and "Back to You" will be running reruns. And Heroes supposedly will end its season in December. What a shame.

As to be expected, gentle members of the press are all over this story. FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST, WHAT WILL WE WATCH they say, and then answer their own question: Reality TV writers are non-union.

But the good thing is some are having a bit of fun with it. Take for example Frazier Moore of the AP, who had this to say:

Sure, the impact of the strike so far has been limited to late night, instantly banishing comedy-and-talk shows into rerun purgatory. But how are you supposed to know what's happening in the world without Jon Stewart and "The Daily Show" mocking current events? How will you keep your grip on contemporary life deprived of David Letterman's nightly Top Ten List?
The prospect of a strike was a wake-up call for viewers. Last Friday, "Late Night" host Conan O'Brien dispelled the popular belief "that I make the whole show up." Not true, viewers learned. "Believe it or not," confided Conan, "some of the show is scripted."
But that was then. On Monday, writers who once scripted "Late Night" and so many other shows (and movies, too) were picketing outside NBC's Rockefeller Center headquarters.
"Hey, hey, ho, ho, management can't write the show," they chanted, demonstrating that their own writing skills don't include poetry.
The dispute between Writers Guild of America members and the networks and studios that employ them centers on issues like Internet royalties for TV shows. But it's you caught in the middle. As a pitch for "Jimmy Kimmel Live" put it so vividly, "The more I Jimmy, the better I feel." With the strike going on, you just can't Jimmy like you used to.
And things could get worse. If the strike drags on (and the last one, in 1988, went for 22 weeks), the reservoir of new scripted shows could run dry.

Indeed. As a fellow writer, who is way lowerly paid, I feel somewhat sympathetic to those writers who come up with the comedy gold that is "Two and Half Men" I guess. On the other hand, this guy.

Monday, November 05, 2007

250 Greatest Films: #189 Point Break

Reeves. Swayze. Busey. Together they team up in the the greatest film about skydiving, bank robber-surfers in the history of creation.

OK, it's probably the only movie about skydiving, bank robbing surfers, but you get my point.

There are so many things to enjoy here. Keanu plays ex-Ohio State QB "Johnny Utah" ferchrissakes whose love interest is none other than Lori "Tank Girl" Petty. Not to mention Gary Busey's trademark old cop with an ax to grind or Swayze's wild-eyed anti-establishment mysticism.

The whole thing is just so ridiculous. The combination of Swayze's whole "living past the edge" philosophy and Keanu's trademark wooden line-reading has a surreal effect.

The plot keeps moving with suspense and despite all the different ridiculous things going on it somehow hangs together -- credit the director I guess. Plus there's one part where Keanu almost gets his face shredded by a lawnmower.

Tagline: 100% Pure Adrenaline.

Plot Spoilers:
Not really a whole lot to spoil. Busey dies, as does pretty much all the bad guys. Here's the final scene. Apparently still leaving options open for Point Break 2.

Memorable Quotes:

Bodhi: It's basic dog psychology, if you scare them and get them peeing down their leg, they submit. But if you project weakness, that promotes violence, and that's how people get hurt.
Roach: Peace, through superior firepower.

Ben Harp: You're a real blue flame special, aren't you, son? Young, dumb and full of cum, I know. What I don't know is how you got assigned here. Guess we must just have ourselves an asshole shortage, huh?
Johnny Utah: Not so far.

Johnny Utah: Bohdi! This is your wakeup call I AM AN F...B...I AGENT!
Bodhi: I know, isn't it wild! That's what makes it so interesting. You can do what you want, and make up your own rules. Why be a servant to the law, when you can be it's master?

Bohdi: You want the ultimate, you gotta be prepared to pay the ultimate price. It's not tragic to die doing what you love.

Ben Harp: Special agent Utah! This is not some job, flipping burgers at the local drive-in! Yes! - your surf board bothers me! Yes! - your approach to this whole damn case bothers me! And yes! - YOU BOTHER ME! And Pappas! Oh, for the love of Christ. How the hell did I even let you talk me into this whole bone-headed idea to begin with.
Pappas: Harp! We are working under-cover. It takes time. We've produced a few...
Ben Harp: NO! No no no no no no NO! Let me tell you what you've produced... Over the last two weeks, you two have produced exactly squat! SQUAT! During which time the ex-presidents have robbed two more banks. Now for Christ's sake, does either one of you have anything even remotely interesting to tell me?
Johnny Utah: I caught my first tube today... Sir.

Pappas: I'm so hungry I could eat the ass end out of a dead rhino.

Johnny Utah: Where is Roach?
Bodhi: He's around somewhere. Listen Johnny, we're in a kind of a hurry; is there anything you need?
Johnny Utah: You gotta tell me where she is.
Bodhi: Oh yeah, and let my policy expire. Good idea.
Johnny Utah: Look Bodhi, people are dead, the ride is over.
Bodhi: Oh, no no no. I say when it's over.
Johnny Utah: They will nail you wherever you land. They'll use something new called radar, maybe you've heard of it.
Bodhi: What is your...
Johnny Utah: Bodhi, I know you man. When they fall on you, you won't back down and they'll have to burn your ass to the ground.
Bodhi: Shit happens.
Johnny Utah: You got a death wish. You want to ride to glory, fine. But, don't take Tyler with you. I'm begging you. Tell me where she is, and I walk away.
Bodhi: You walk away?
Johnny Utah: I walk away.
Bodhi: That's beautiful Johnny.

Johnny Utah: Vaya con Dios, Brah.

Best character: Here I'll go with Gary Busey as Special Agent Angelo Pappas. Nevermind the fact that Busey in no way looks spanish. The character loves burritos and Calvin and Hobbes! Plus he somehow figures out the whole surfer as bank robber angle that makes the entire film possible. This is probably the first and only time "best character" will go to a glorified plot device. But hey, it's Busey, no apologies.

Another reason to see it: The part where Johnny Utah jumps out the plan with nothing but a six-shooter is fucking awesome.

Friday, November 02, 2007

Happy now, bitch?

Get your damn hands off my booze and car keys, you teetotalling bastards. God forbid people drink responsibly, or at all. I blame Harry J. Anslinger.

Gotta give a shout out to what I consider to be a spinoff of this blog, dr.gpeice's Why I'm Radical. It's like the fainting goats had a baby, and it looks like Carl from Aqua Teen Hunger Force.

Speaking of babies... Hey TMoney, as the only known peruser here with any kids, I require you get a monkey babysitter and let us know how its goes.

I'm a little late on this, but this is the most ridiculous ending of a football game I have ever seen.

Speaking of old crap you may have already seen, this map of the online world from xkcd is pretty good.

Hey look, its the world's most beautiful ass.

That's all I got, enjoy your weekend. I'm going to spend mine at the elephant enclosure at the zoo.