I used to work at a cafe where we had a loose-leaf binder filled with applications that people had turned in. My friends and I used to go through the book when we were bored and one day we found this. (Click on the picture for a larger view.) In the section called If you would like to write anything about yourself... Tod, the employment seeker wrote: To start with my name is Todd but you allready know that so let me go on. I'm about 5'10" I have little feet and little hands Im not black so you probly allready know what els is small. I like to eat and live in a apartment so that's the main reason I aplied. So I would be delighted to speak to you about emploment. Thanks allot. Todd the Employment Seeker.
Sadly, though Tod had the good sense to make not only a dick joke but also a racial slur on his application, he was not hired, even though his application contained probably the most truthful statement I have ever seen on a job application. "I like to eat and live in a apartment so that's the main reason I aplied." That's usually, at least for me, the only reason to apply. I mean aply. Other people who were much less honest were hired. People who claimed to love waiting tables because they loved meeting interesting new people got the job, but Tod (who spelled his name wrong on the front of the application) did not.
You would think if you went to all the trouble of inventing a spray, manufacturing a spray, and marketing a spray that wasn't very good you would pay someone to come up with a better name than BAD SPRAY®. Like, for instance, maybe you could call it GOOD SPRAY® and then as a disclaimer on the back say something like, "This spray is bad."
An even better name than GOOD SPRAY® would be BAD ASS SPRAY®. But I guess that could be misconstrued as regular old BAD SPRAY® that you spray on your ass. New improved BAD SPRAY! Now for your ass!
This spray courtesy of The Matthew Sweney Corp., Inc., Ltd.
Leave it to the Germans to develop an instant cat food. If you rip open the box at a rock show you will get a
veritable nuclear winter of mashed potato like flakes floating all over
the club. Trust me.
Pussy Flakes is made by Vitakraft, who also make a sausage style cat food and a product called Doggy Water, which is even funnier than Pussy Flakes.
Title: Glenda, 1969 Medium: Oil on art board Artist: Glenda, 1969
Get a load of this clown.
In the history of clown art, didn't anyone ever paint a happy clown? Did people take painting classes devoted solely to clown portraiture? Did they have live clown artist's models? Did they pose nude?
Clowns are supposed to be funny, but are often portrayed as just the opposite. In my lifetime I have been fortunate enough to have had two 'clown-out-of-context' sightings. One was a lone clown eating dinner at the Howard Johnson's in Times Square; that was pretty sad. The other was a clown changing a flat tire on a Mitsubishi Gallant. That was funny.
Let's see...I have to pose for my album cover. I think I'll bring my amp, my drum machine and my saxophone and then pose in front of The Parthenon.
Yet another Nashville record with The Parthenon in the background. In this one, it almost makes sense as the columns sort of look like 'beams of heaven.' But the mish-mosh of musical gear makes very little sense. John N. Sowell's phone number is on the back; maybe I'll call him up and ask what it all means. Or if he wants to sell that amp.
Remember when nobody knew Freddie Mercury was gay? This is from an old 16 Magazine, which was a magazine for teenage girls. If you click on the picture to enlarge it you can read about Freddie the Hunk. There are a couple of hints there...
My very very special friend Kyle responds:
We may have not known Freddie was gay, but, when Freddie stopped wearing tights and started wearing leather and hot pants, I knew something was going on. Freddie's preference was an often discussed topic amongst my first rock band as our singer, Mike, thought Freddie Mercury was the best rock singer, period, and would have loved to perform an entire set of Queen songs. The rest of the band felt that "Tie Your Mother Down" was plenty enough Queen. We didn't dislike Queen but their songs were difficult to play correctly without proper instrumentation and ability and we lacked both. Not wanting to admit this, and in order to discourage singer Mike from introducing another Queen song to the set, the band would resort to the "Queen are fags" argument as the final word as to why we shouldn't add any more Queen to our set. When you're sixteen any argument can be won with the "fag" assertion. It started as a joke, but with each new Queen album, from "Jazz" on, it became more and more apparent that we had been fooled into rocking out to something much different than what we had originally perceived. Also, Queen, or at least Mercury, had a reputation for hitting the town in Dallas after their concerts and this was big news in the local rock weekly "Buddy Magazine" (named after Holly). At first, his late night revelry would commence at Mother Blues, an infamous derelict rock club on Lemon Ave. But a year or so later, when it was reported that Freddie and his Queen's court detoured a few blocks away to cabarets such as the Manhole in the heart of the burgeoning gay district of Cedar Springs Ave., we all knew Freddie wasn't wearing leather to impress the ladies.
Everything about Helen Taylor is fabulous, from her red gogo boots and miniskirt to her "I Dream of Jeannie" Jim Beam decanter and jug of chianti on the end table. I also love her velvet wallpaper, fake palm, naugahyde Barca-Lounger and plaid rug combination. But most of all, I love her '68 Tobacco burst, block inlay, Gibson ES-335 w/factory Vibrola and rare Tweety Bird decal.