“It depends…on what the definition of ‘ain’t’ – ain’t.”
Senator John Edwards and "Baby Ain't"
“Is You Is Or Is You Ain’t My Baby” written by Louis Jordan and Billy Austin in 1944. “Is” was a Billboard Number One chart topper.
I got a gal whos always late,
anytime we have a date
but i love her,
yes i love her
I'm gunna walk right up to her gate
and see if i can get it straight
cause I want her
I'm gunna ask her
Is you is or is you aint my baby?
the way you're acting latley makes me doubt
you's is still my baby, baby
seize my flame and your hearts' done and gone out
A woman is a creature,
that has always been strange
just when your sure of one,
you find shes gone and made a change
Is you is or is you aint my baby?
maybe babys found somebody new
or is my baby still my baby true? (x2)
“A bubble is how a child’s breath can make something beautiful…from nothing – just like God made the universe. Do bubbles have to break?”
Mr. Bubble passed away this last Tuesday evening, as announced from his Hamilton, NJ home by short-term corporate family associate and restructuring officer; Doug Booth. The official cause of death was a brief bout of bankruptcy, however, those who knew Mr. Bubble, attributed his demise to an agonizing and protracted struggle against avarice, after firstly suffering from a self-inflicted business roll-up some few years earlier. According to the bankruptcy obituary, Mr. Bubble is survived by three layers of debt; levereged, senior and junior, neither of which had anything left to speak of.
Had Mr. Bubble lived, he would have been 88, being born of the Lander family in 1920. Mr. Bubble’s father gained his reputation selling perfumes such as “Romantic Days” and “Samedi Soir.” Lander relinquished his prodigy several times before it was adopted by the Hermes Group, a private equity firm, in 2003, according to the perfunctory regulatory inquest.
Two years later, Lander was placed in another consumer-products home, and took in Mr. Bubble from Playtex in 2007 to reside with Coty’s “Healing Garden.” Final arrangements for the disposition of Mr. Bubble’s remains, if any, are being handled by the firm of Houlihan, Lokey, Howard & Zukin.
And so it goes, but begs the question – in business, is greed ever good? Greed, as opposed to what – honest competition, ambition and hard work? In my grief, I’m going to think about that, as I reflect on fond memories of growing up squeaky clean with Mr. Bubble. It’s just kind of sad, and likewise ironic, that the first business roll-ups to be done in the 1970′s were Mom and Pop funeral homes and neighborhood trash haulers. Tech bubble, stock market bubble, Don Ho and “Tiny Bubbles,” housing bubble – so long, Mr. Bubble…
YOUR MOTHER WON’T KNOW YOU (vintage commercial, and only 49 cents!)
Anyhow, I had this aspiration last night, which is kinda like a dream, but not a great one, but one of those when you wake up and you’re not done with it, so you try to go back to sleep and hope it will come back on and finish the way you want. You know what I mean, right, heY!
~ anemi
Senator Barack Obama and General David Petraeus do Baghdad
Looking really brilliant in this picture, U.S. Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson testifies on Capitol Hill in Washington before the House Financial Services Committee hearing on systemic risk and the financial markets. The U.S. Treasury and the Federal Reserve announced steps Sunday, July 13, 2008 to shore up mortgage giants Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac. Woo-Hoo!
Follow the money? Forget about it – it’s gone. Yours, mine, Wall Street’s, the Bank’s – all gone. Nobody made a dime, and you should do a better job of keeping the part of the curb you are sleeping on cleaner. So many people greased their palms in this mortgage muck (and continue to do so) that it really should be considered, “Economic Stimulus Package I.” Hopefully, you used the tax rebate check from the sequel, son of a stimulus package, to help the Chinese via the Bank of Wal-Mart, rather than further feed the beasts (your mortgage).
Do you really need an explanation? OK fine. Watch Jimmy Stewart here doing a great Henry Paulson impression as he testifies before shareholders during the best bank run/failure there ever was:
Reader poll: “Which weighs more – Amy, or Amy’s hair?” Write us, we wanna know!
In the “is this even possible?” department, Amy Winehouse manages to stay in the news by taking a swing at a “fan,” (human, I suppose) yesterday during her performance at Glasto. If anybody knows what prompted the punch, they aren’t telling, so, let’s just say that of the 80,000 people in attendance, the dude seated front row center was in the right place at the wrong time.
Were it me (the human) I’d be shaking in my rumpled rehab robe. I mean, I have this mental trauma just thinking about being attacked by a 70 pound emphysematic crankster. I personally think Amy should get a gravity award for her ability to remain vertical under the weight of her coif and tattoo ink. Seriously, given her fragile state, and notwithstanding that Amy is a girl (I think), I’d certainly never return a jab, and, nor would I be so bold as to let my friends find about this.
Anyhow, kudos to quick action from the security boys, ensuring safety and freedom for the patrons to pursue other interests, like the concession stand, or voting in Zimbabwe.
~ Anemi
PS – We found it necessary to add this postscript, as a great many gentle readers are somewhat confused. The above photograph is indeed that of Amy Winehouse, not to be confused with the photograph that follows, which is of the fabulous Miss Elsa Lanchester; the original “Bride of Frankenstein” of film fame ~ 1935. Just goes to prove, whatever is old is new again, right, Igor?
Think things are bad in the USA? The head Russia’s Gazprom warned today that gas prices will double by 2009. If you don’t know, Gazprom is a state-controlled monopoly, is the largest gas company – in the world – and supplies 25% of all gas to Europe. Price disputes in the past have caused disruptions. Hmm, winter in Cabo is starting to sound pretty good. Bring your own towels, I do not do wash, heY!
It seems like every time somebody comes along with “the next big thing,” I think…”junk,” and say so, and then they wind up making zillions of bucks. So, do yourself a favor, short my sentiments here, and go glam on to as much stock in this as you can squeeze into your IRA, mattress, whichever you have left.
In yet another attempt to stick it’s fingers in the money goo, Google not long ago teamed-up with fueling system supplier Gilbarto Veeder-Root to equip Internet-enabled gas pumps with the Applause Media System, featuring Google Maps. The setup is supposed to, among other things, allow lost motorists to find themselves, hungry road warriors to feed themselves (and save money doing it with printable coupons), and sleep depraved drivers to scroll around a local map in search for a cot, and free HBO.
What’s wrong with this picture? Well, the top one is just fine, with my edits. But the unedited version, just above, and this whole idea – here’s my take.
Firstly, with gas over $4.00/gallon, you’ve got more money than sense than to be driving, let alone plan a trip without knowing where the best gas prices can be found. OK, excuse – you were in a hurry when you left, and now the battery in your Blackberry is dead. What’s to stop you from pulling up to this web-pump and surfing over to GasBuddy just to make sure Omar inside there is not gouging you, when gas can be had at three-cents cheaper across the street? No foul here, I mean everybody will tell you there is no money to be made at gas pumps, they are merely loss-leaders to get you inside to buy a pack of “square-nabs,” that’s where the real money is.
I guess on a practical level, if your Blackberry truly is dead and you are wayward, this “innovation” could be a godsend. Getting lost out there is brutal. Nobody knows where they are. It’s like, they know they will not get, nor keep, a job at a gas/convenience store unless they act directionally challenged. It’s a rule, printed in the 7-11 employee handbook. It might even be an Arabian sub-terror plot to keep you lost to buy more of their gas.
Talk about frustration and possible road rage, ever get this – “Hmm, I’ve lived here all my life and I’ve never heard of I-40, sorry. Bubba might know, but he’s on dinner break.” You get so upset, you wind up buying gas or “square-nabs” just to calm the nerves. Stupid? It works. They get the sale.
Another reason this thing is just plain dumb relates to patience, or our lack thereof. Waiting in line for anything just plain sucks. We are talking silent wishes for a drive-by shooting of the idiot in front of you with nothing better to do than Google for directions to the best route to discover the “World’s Largest Pecan.”
Maybe though, after a tough day on the thirsty trail, you decide to print out and use that gratuitous 5%-off coupon at the Motel 6, and kick back with the free in-room color TV. Maybe then you’ll have a greater grasp of the local 7:00 “action” news blurting, “Elderly couple flattened at local gas station, right after a word from our sponsor; Google.”
“Breaker-Breaker, good buddy. Howzit lookin’ over your donkey?”
Yeah, gas prices hurt. Check out these peeps fuming in line for the “crisis” at 81 cents/gallon. If you were rich, before you could even get to the “square-nabs,” you might have passed the time untangling the tape in your eight-track installed by your bro’inlaw, or rappin’ on the CB radio. “What’s a Blackberry, Internet…huh?” Some things are a bit better, I suppose.
You know the economy is bad when nothing, and I mean NOTHING is going on in Hollywood worthy of reporting. What to do when you need a story, and can’t even find a Yorkie to kick down Rodeo Drive? Hmm. GOT IT! What say we check in with Zsa Zsa Gabor’s husband, Frederic, and catch a glow of what he’s been up to, what fun, heY!
But first, up for a bit of sport? How about a multiple choice quiz, I’ll call it Truth or Dare Paparazzi, where you, are the Photog, and your mission is to get a pic of Zsa Zsa Gabor. (Told you things were slow). As with anything worth doing, this is not going to be easy, and there is a “price” to be paid. So, to get the winning shot, which are you more willing to endure?
a) Getting a rep for hanging around Beverly Hills street corners and snapping pics of old people.
b) Getting a fat lip from an old person who thinks he’s a younger man and an old monarch for hanging around Beverly Hills street corners and snapping pics of old people.
c) Wasting three years by suing an old person who thinks he’s a younger man and an old monarch for giving you a fat lip for hanging around Beverly Hills street corners and snapping pics of old people.
d) Gah, I dunno, all of the above.
I know, tough choices, but, this is Hollywood, land of “Greed is Good,” so take answer “d”, be safe and go for it all.
This is exactly what photographer Dirk Smeten, age unknown, did, saying he worried he would be killed when Zsa Zsa Gabor’s husband slugged him in the face three years ago on a Beverly Hills street corner.
In his legal complaint, Dirk claimed Frederic von “Ask Him” (Gabor’s husband) aged apx. 75, was in the vicinity and began punching him about the lips while Smeten photographed him and/or Zsa Zsa Gabor, aged apx. 92, in May 2005. According to the complaint, the blow(s) caused Smeten to fall down in suffering with lip lacerations, cuts to his face, swelling, pain, high blood pressure, headaches and stress symptoms, to which Smeten continues to this day to get psychiatric care.
Herr von “All Sprechen” said he initially wanted to give Smeten about twenty large for busting on his chops, but Smeten opted for the long court road home in search of $137,000. On Friday, the court awarded Dirk $4,510, about right I’d say, after three years of negative economic adjustments.
A search for Smeten for comment turned out to be fruitless, however, von “Au Lait” was sited in West Hollywood savoring a Starbucks and sucking a stogie, and graciously consented to the following interview:
Raul Castro, now 76, and now el Presidente, demonstrates his new policy for Guantanomo Bay; “Catch and Release.”
Capturing the planet in mid yawn, Cuban lawmakers named Fidel Castro’s baby bro as president, kinda sorta ending the almost half-century rule of really ancient brother Fidel.
Cuba’s 614-member national assembly, made up of, catch this: Communist Party members, ha, chose Raul Castro, now 76, to rule the island nation for the next, God willing and the creek don’t rise, five years, it announced today on TV. Raul perhaps, or not, recalls he was nine years old when American farm boy Philo Farnsworth’s patented dream of television was introduced to the world in color by RCA.
Speaking repetitively, but all by himself, Raul Castro had this to say today; “I assume the responsibility that has been given to me, with the conviction that I affirmed many times, that there is only one commander and chief of the Cuban revolution: Fidel is Fidel.” For those of you who’s Spanglish, shees non so good, the translation; “It is what it is.”
OK, I’m joking with the title a bit here, but who needs ‘crack’ after taking a look at this 1948 commercial for Lucky Strike cigarettes? The slogan for this brand was “It’s Toasted!” Uh huh, so was the ad man, wOw!
LUCKY STRIKE DANCING “FAGS”AD – 1948
TRUTH IN ADVERTISING – CLASSY ACTION, IT SUITS
What is our take-away message from the advertisements above?It’s very simple. If you are contacted by an attorney soliciting your business to join as a party in a class-action law suit, make certain he was not one of the losers who represented the tobacco companies.
It’s a little more complicated than this, so they say, but big tobacco got sued and lost zillions of dollars via judgements for wrongfully withholding knowledge that cigarettes are a bad thing and can kill you. To the best of my knowledge, the above case-winning evidentary documentation was never called into exhibit. We can plainly see, the tobacco companies have always showed concern for our health, and indeed have long conveyed the dangers of smoking.
To wit, in 1937, they warned using the grimmest of reapers, Joan “Mommy Dearest” Crawford, arriving at the front door on Christmas Eve, bearing the gifts of a carton of un-filtered cigarettes and a dead puppy. The door is closed, and the message is that it should certainly remain so. What potential smoker could possibly miss this? Me? I’d be shivering under my bed, praying for assistance from the tooth fairy, heY!
In figure two, we are drawn to a headless male with a sagging butt, distracting the female’s attention away from the falling giant drink coaster, clearly destined to guillotine her pronounced foot, whereafter, most likely, she will rapidly go into shock, then bleed to death, hence the use of the color red in the otherwise grave-toned imagery. Make no mistake, had the girl not been leaning forward to accept a light, this tragedy would never have occurred.
Everybody knows comedian Don Novello best for his work on Saturday Night Live as “Father Guido Sarducci.” But, did he get his start “whistling” for your attention to visit the concession stand at the drive-in movies? Hmm, you decide…
“WHISTLE-POP” 1960 Popcorn Ad
More on “whistling” by Father Guido…
On The “Missing” Commandments: There were actually more than ten, but Moses was old and grumpy, and after he broke the tablets he could only remember the negative ones. “Don’t do this. Don’t do that.” The truth is, most of them were more like advice. The Twelfth Commandment, for example, was “Whistle while you work.” (People think its from Disney, but Disney stole it from God.)
BOCCE BALL MY WAY (SNL) by FATHER AARDUCCI
Don, born January 1, 1943, is still very much entertaining us all and currently lives in Marin County, CA. His sister-in-law, Antonia Novello, was Surgeon General of the U.S. from 1990 to 1993, and could not be reached for comments on the recently exposed ill-effects of “huffing” microwave popcorn vapors. (Don Novello’s Official Website)
OK, this has been around for a while, but it keeps getting better, because somebody keeps the chicken updated with new tricks. Now, I know you have never been to one of those porn sites, you know, where you get your say as to what you want the model to do, and just about anything goes, so there, I just set this up for you. Just type in your commands, like; sit, dance, fly…well, you get it! Get creative, and see what the chicken will do, you may be surprised. Get too rangy for the chicken…and, well, you will see!
Ai Carrumba!
Sub-Servants
No, that’s not a link there, just a picture caption. Britney and Paris and every other star-for-let who has one of these models pictured here, is catching holy crap from that lunatic PETA President, the head chihuahua herself; Ingrid Newkirk. What a boob! Anyhow, yes, these dogs are small, and yes, because these dogs are small, they tend to get misplaced and/or stepped on. But, no, it is not the owner’s fault. This time, you are going to have to blame the government, because, with the “burn the bridge” mentality when it comes to immigration, it is getting impossible to find anybody to pilot the John Deere to ensure the lawn is kept to eye level. Come on Ingrid, I mean, do you step in shit on purpose? Thing-aboud-it, heY! (This particular little star, look-a-like dog actually belongs to a good friend of mine who loves it to pieces, and no harm has or would ever come to it, but she ought to harm her BF off the sofa and show him where the lawn mower is, right, Sandi?)
Britney Spears “Gimme More” Spoof, National Lampoon Version
Wide Stances in Foreign Territories
This picture, is one of those I dug up while looking for a picture to go with a brilliant story soon to be finished, mebe. Anyhow, this is supposed to be serious, but, what’s with those strange cod and ammo things in all the Queen’s men’s laps? And take a look at the Britney wannabe commando Joe to the left of Her Majesty – HA! I guess there are a zillion explanations for this photograph, but don’t you know this is hanging in each and everybody here’s living room! What will the grand-children say! Oh the horror.
I’m Not Emo
Sub-genre, angsty estrogenized graphical representation, then, und now (klicken to reichen big-un)
An older friend was trying to be hip with me and said; “Oh Anemi, you’re so EMO!” Well, OK, fine, groovy, man! Whatever, bruh. Listen, emo used to refer just to music, but now is a bunch of things well beyond, including, but not limited to; attitude, dress, grooming, and whatever else is misunderstood – so, to make things easy, and because nothing ever really changes, you can see emo then, and emo now – same difference, dood! Hitler had his “Wagner,” and true emo’s had their “One Last Wish,” and to set the record here, I’m no fan of either!
So, get out there and have a productive cup of coffee, before it gets cold!
