Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Don't Drink the Water

Every year The Big Guy asks us to take a little camping trip with him to the Holy Lands. We usually set up our tents at the base of Mount Megiddo and go on maneuvers for a few weeks. It's usually the same stuff every year - we practice smiting the masses, covering heretics in leprous boils, casting apostates into the putrid demons' dung of the eternally damned. It's a good time, but a lot of work, and is usually capped off by a few days of hardy intoxication on the Lord's Tab at an exotic locale of our choosing. This year we should be done with our duties right around the time Spring Break gets into full swing so we're heading off to the scenic Yucatan Peninsula to bone up on our knowledge of ancient Mayan civilization and to scream "Show us your tits!" at nubile American coeds. It may sound like a radical transition, but we have it on A Reliable Source that on Judgment Day the Whore of Babylon will descend to Earth looking an awfully lot like a wet t-shirt contest at a Cancun tiki bar.

We'll be back in town just in time for the first round of March Madness - during which time we drop out of existence to spend the entire 96 hours in front of our televisions, so don't expect to hear from us in the next couple of weeks. In the meantime, enjoy our hiatus - we know we will!

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Captions Needed

What's the dude in the bottom right-hand corner thinking?

Send us your thoughts. Think of it as if it were the New Yorker's weekly Cartoon Caption Contest, but without any rewards.

Smoke 'Em if You Got 'Em

The US Marijuana Party doesn't sound like it would be the most motivated political organization ever to grace the bully pulpit (but we have little doubt they have preternatural HVAC skills). Loretta Nall is using this site to promote her run for governor of Alabama, where she was arrested, presumably, for writing a pro-weed letter to the editor of the Birmingham News. We support her candidacy, but will only endorse her under two conditions: 1.) if she's able to get Kinky Freidman advisor Willy Nelson on board, and 2.) if her campaign slogan is "Bet You Can't Make a Bong Out of a Voting Machine!"

Athletic Supporters and Other Structural Engineering Marvels

Things We Bought That Suck...or Not is kind of like Consumer Reports if it were run by a pair of Canucks who wear their maple leaves proudly on their sleeves. The premise is elegant: buy something (rugby shorts, for example), eventually discover something wrong with it ("asymetrical testicle support"), then bitch about it.

Most of the purchases are fairly conventional - a haircut, sushi, a hockey stick - but the one we were most impressed with was the six months of education at MIT for only $100 (we're not sure if that's Canadian or US dollars). The MIT experience is, thus far, the only item to not recieve a "Suck" or "Not suck" rating, earning instead an "Intermediate." We can only hope that one of America's premier engineering institutions offered exquisitely symetrical testicular support or the last bridge we ever ride over in this country was crossed this morning.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

The Power of Christ Compels You

Looking for Christ in all the wrong places? Jesus of the Week can help direct you! According to this site JC can be found in the men's room, playing center field for the Yankees next season, on a tortilla shell, looking very much like a wine bottle-opener, playing poker at Binion's casino, on the "Christian" $20 bill, posing as a bobble head doll, and looking like a number of different balloon, uh, Dieties? He's the most versatile Lord and Savior around, folks!


Enjoy the idle musings of at least a few creative folks inspired by nature's pre-eminent edible phallic symbol at The Tattooed Banana.

Monday, February 20, 2006

Giant Prick Still at Large

Ajatar tries to prove he's the worl'd biggest dick by giving us all 1000 Reasons why I'm the Worst Person Alive. For what it's worth, allow us to give him Reason #294: Inability to categorize subjects numerically or according to any logical sequence.

[Painting by Albert Reyes]

Friday, February 17, 2006

Antarctica Blogs: Vol. 2

We weren't kidding.

Antarctic Bugs

Signs of Life: Vol. 1

Usually half of our day is devoted to trolling the blogosophere, begrudgingly abiding the vilest of blogs. Like this sack of shit. That's also a lot of ugly baby and/or cat pictures, bad poetry, and extremely uninformed political commentary to sift through on a daily basis. The up side is that we occassionally - and, alas, very rarely - find something we enjoy. Like the hip-hop duo Roosevelt Franklin and their blog White People Love Us or Oregon artist Levi's work at Remnant Lyme ("Kitchen Kiss" by Levi, below). Patronize their blogs. Consume their goods and services. Everything else out there pretty much sucks.

The other half of the day we devote to Southern Comfort or preparing for the End Times. Sometimes both.

Lapping Up the Male Gaze

In honor of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition, which was published this week, we were going to do a "Lovely Ladies of Internet" type thing featuring some of the wonderful female bloggers who have been kind enough not to seek restraining orders against us. This was going to be our little way of thanking SI for supplying America's 7th grade boys with bountiful jack off fodder lo these so many years. It was also a flimsy excuse to put up photos of gorgeous women. But somebody already beat us to the punch: Bloggin Hotties. We happen to think the name is pretty self-explanatory.

The interesting thing about BH is that it's "sponsored" (whatever that means) by none other than Beltway harlot and demi-celebrity Jessica Cutler, a.k.a. the Washingtonienne. We have to admit we're impressed. The only sponsors we have ever had have been Earl, the mechanic down the block who makes some kick ass moonshine, and the occassional good friend who chauffeurs us to AA meetings.

Monday, February 13, 2006

20/20 Vision

Screwcap is a blogger after our own hearts. She's diagnosed the essence of wine snobbery - an unhealthy obsession with cork - and we couldn't agree more. We're pretty sure we'd need a wine-opener developed by NASA to make sure we didn't fuck up the opening somehow, so it's good to have a resource to guide us through the perilous straights of screwcap wine purchasing. To date we can only make one contribution to this noble calling: may we recommend a fine wine whose name always seems to escape us. This potent potable has no legs to speak of, but does come in a variety of bright colors. It has a fruity bite and an even fruitier aftertaste - remininscent of some of the best vintages of Nyquil available at any CVS. Most importantly, this vinter's miracle comes in a portable package that can easily slide into any pocket on one's person. If this description sounds familiar to anyone, please feel free to remind us what we've been drinking all these years.

Friday, February 10, 2006

Rhett Motherfucking Butler

Clark Gable has returned from the "grave" to seek the blood of the Postal Service - and possibly some residuals. Enjoy his homocidal romp though the Hollywood Hills at Clark Motherfucking Gable.

Party on, Garth

Remember Crystal? She was that pleasant lass we gave some career counseling to a while back. Well we found someone she just has to meet: Woman Honor Thyself. Catchy title, don't you think? WHT's pissed. Turns out the ACLU, illegal immigrants, men in skirts, and every musician since Mozart are ruining America. That's fine. We're willing to work with all that. She even decries bilingualism and demands that every American learn the Queen's English - though for a conservative she certainly does use capital letters liberally. [FYI: probably a good idea to start learning Mandarian.]

We were willing to go along with all the fun and games until she started taking all the fun out of the games:

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Jus AnotheR DaY inna HooD

Scene One: Gangstas toting machine guns massacring cops on the streets.
Yup you guessed it -
Alas the video game we have all been waiting for has arrived..NOT.

We're essential God's police - and when we're finally called into action, believe you me, we will drag ourselves out of the bar and begin smiting evil money-lenders and heathens post haste - but we're not offended. WHT's just talking about 25 to Life, which sounds like some cheap kcock-off of the eminently more enjoayable tongue-in-cheeck violence of the Grand Theft Auto series. These games keep our skills honed and our bloodlust churning. After all, nobody wants God's field commanders on the plains of Armagedon to half-heartedly cast wicked sinners into the fiery depths of Hell, do they?

What we love about this post is the old school homage to Wayne's World WHT employs when she reveals her sarcastic tone by concluding her opening salvo with "NOT." That really brings us back. We haven't heard that one used since 1993. At this rate WHT will get around to see The Aristocrats sometime in 2017, at which time we'll have this really great joke to tell her.

Thursday, February 09, 2006

Sans Culottes

Canadians have balls ... and some of them want to prove it to you at the Canadian Naturists Blog.

Ultimate (Culture) Warriors

Every now and then Charlie the Intern comes up with a decent idea, like the one he had today when he decided to find out if anyone had a blog called 'Culture Warrior' and, if so, how big of a lunatic would said person be?

Turns out there is a website called Culture Warrior that is indeed run by a raving lunatic. But Mr. Warrior comes off as a Rhodes scolar compared to Cole Coker over at Revelation and Research Wilderness Journals. Let's just say that this site is a little light on the wilderness, heavy on the revelation, and completely void of any research. According to Mr. Coker, the Rosetta Stone prophesizes 9/11 and the cinematic success of The Passion of the Christ. It also contains the actual autograph of the Big Guy Himself. Who knew?

These two dudes have simply got to get together with Joe - who clearly has been reading too much of Tim Lahayne's "Left Behind" series - and his Pre-Tribulation Force. Joe's army sounds like it aspires to be the Michigan Militia of the End Times Era. You know the kind: "spiritual survivalist" types that hole themselves up in bunkers, bomb shelters and the like, while the heavy artillary of the culture wars takes out civilization as we know it. Just make sure the Rosetta Stone's with you all before you close the hatch.

Monday, February 06, 2006

Detroit Rock City

After spending last weekend in Detroit we're going to be reduced to eating Ramen Noodles for the next month. Maybe two. Everywhere we went we seemed to just drop dead presidents like they were white boys in a boxing ring. On Saturday we blew God only knows how much on bottles of Grey Goose - and ended up wearing more than we drank - at the Blue Room, only to to be forceably ejected by a squat and stocky, fu manchued fellow in a nice suit with a chip on his shoulder. Then there was that little matter of posting bail for a regretable incident at the Joe Louis statute. Evidently the municipality of Detroit does not look kindly on tourists riding thier civic landmarks. On top of that we didn't actually get to the game itself, but did spend a delightful time in several gentlemen's clubs in scenic Windsor, only to be detained by an ornery customs official who refused to allow Orin the Mad Swede back into the country until he put his clothes back on. Granted, we were probably three sheets to the wind at the time, but we distinctly remember not seeing a "No shirt, no shoes, no service" sign at the border.

And then there's the matter of settling any wagers we may have placed. We had the Seahawks winning the game, covering the spread, losing the coin toss as well as fulfilling a number of other equally futile predictions - which basically means that our bookie now owns the pink slips to all of our vehicles. So from now until we get our chariots out of hoc it's Basics and Milwaukee's Best.

Friday, February 03, 2006

Quite Possibly the Greatest License Plate Ever

Profiles in Courage

As we barrel into yet another Super Bowl weekend we here at The Horse feel obliged to remember the greatest performer in the history of the Big Game: Max McGee.

For those unfamiliar with the story, McGee was a back-up wide reciever for the Green Bay Packers who caught only four passes during the 1966 season. Not expecting to play during the game, McGee joined fellow notorious carouser and injured jack-of-all-trades Paul "the Golden Boy" Hourning for a wild booze-soaked night night in L.A.

"I met some blonde the night before, and I was on my way to pay my respects," teammate Jerry Kramer recalled McGee telling him in his book Lombardi. "I didn't feel I was letting the team down any, because I knew there wasn't a chance in hell I'd play. I waddled in about 7:30 in the morning, and I could barely stand up for the kickoff."

But on the sixth play of the game starting reciever Boyd Dowler was rendered out of commission with an injury and coach Vince Lombardi called McGee into service. Max went on to parlay his hangover into seven catches for 138 yards, two touchdowns - including a spectacular one-handed grab for the historic first points ever scored in a Super Bowl - and a respectable career providing color commentary to radio broadcasts of Packers games.

We here at The Horse salute Mr. McGee for his supperlative service to both the game of football and the art of intoxication and recognize him as a real American hero.

Oh yeah: Seahwaks 27, Steelers 21.

We Are Not Above Arson

Clearly Valentine's Day must be coming up since every fucking pop-up we encounter seems to be related to either penis enlargement, online dating or Victoria's Secret. And not even the good kind of Victoria's Secret ads - just the one's that tell you how much you can save yadda yadda yadda. We don't need the internet to remind us how unendowed we are - there's already a legion of numbers in our cell phones flagged "do not answer" to do that for us. So be forewarned: if we see another one of these goddman pop-ups, fires will be set.

That being said, we're not entirely anti-Valentine's Day. In fact there's a warm place in the annals of our collective memory for those candy hearts with the cute and/or sappy messages. Orin the Mad Swede's especially a fan. He's been trying to patent his own line of candy hearts for years but has yet to figure out how to fit "Is that a Riding Crop in Your Pocket or are You Just Happy to See Me?" on to such a small space.

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

While in Line for a Cannoli

Endless amusement that needs no commenatry from us, just a few excerpts. Overheard in New York:

Guy: Imagine living in the Midwest where there is no happiness.
Guy: Hey, Paul! What's up?
Paul: Oh, I'm just going to go hang myself. I mean, get some coffee.
Chick: I'm looking for a book on wars.
Librarian: Okay. Anything in particular?
Chick: Oh, you know. Just whatever.
Girl: I can't believe you just made me jaywalk!
Guy: Where the hell are you from?

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