My Recycling Efforts Continue ...

Yes, it's more recycled Twitter-based comedy for you today. Why? Because I love you THAT much.

In the Law & Order Universe ... don't enroll at Hudson University. Because you WILL be raped. Or murdered. Or both.

In the Law & Order Universe ... you may talk to police who are investigating a murder, but not for long. You are VERY busy.

In the Law & Order Universe ... if, during questioning, Vincent D'Onofrio bends 90 degrees at the waist ... you're pretty well fucked.

In the Law & Order Universe ... if you're arrested 15 minutes into the investigation, good news! You're not the killer!

In the Law & Order Universe ... if you're being arrested by Det. Stabler, don't resist. He WILL punch you until you die.

"You lookin' to get punched to death, smart guy? Cuz my punchin' fists -- Punchy and Mr. Wigglesworth -- well ... they're gettin' a little itchy."

In the Law & Order Universe ... Ice-T is an angry fish. A VERY angry fish. Oh, and he hates you.

In the Law & Order Universe ... nobody mumbles bone-shatteringly stupid puns before putting on sunglasses and cranking The Who.

In the Law & Order Universe ... if you design or play video games, they will suck. Hard.

In the Law & Order Universe ... handily, there is ALWAYS "that one guy."

In the Law & Order Universe ... if you're a brunette ADA, you'll go far. If you're blonde with a spoon-shaped face, you're a fucking idiot.

In the Law & Order Universe ... if Jack McCoy's voice squeaks and cracks earnestly during closing arguments, sorry, you're going to jail.


Till next we meet ...

A Fool's Errands (Monday, 8/24/09)

1) Eat entire box of Hot Pockets in single sitting.

2) Bet everything on World Series between Miami Dolphins and Andre Agassi.

3) Challenge Martha Stewart to bare-knuckle boxing match.

4) Buy socks.

5) Compare everything to Hitler. Especially things that are nothing at all like Hitler. (After all, you ARE a complete and utter fool.)

You Be the Judge ...

Nap ... or crime scene?

The eternal question.


Till next we meet ...

Nicknamery Part 2: The Search Continues ...

Remember that one obnoxious asshole from middle school theater camp? The one who insisted -- all … summer … long -- that everyone call him “Puck?”

Of course you do. We all do. We all knew “that guy.” The one who thought his Hawaiian shirts, juggling skills and extensive experience as "Boy Who Gets Turkey" in a dinner theater production of A Christmas Carol would get him laid.

Well, kid. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you … but you cannot give yourself a nickname. Nope. No sir. Not ever.

I don’t care that you’ve memorized the piano dance from “Big” or that you know all the words to “Jesus Christ Superstar.” You cannot give yourself a nickname. So stop it.

Also you’re a douche.

But that’s off-topic.

Anyhow, it’s an ironclad rule of nicknamery. The only rule, really. And a rule that all the “Pucks” of the world need “explained” to them.

Energetically.

With fists.

“Call me Puck! Then punch me in my face as hard and as often as you can! Huzzah!”

But, all that said … as a fella who longs for a nickname of my own, I’m fervently hoping that, while I can’t apply a nickname to myself directly, maybe I can coerce people into giving me one. And if I'm lucky, maybe it’ll even be cool.

So what makes a good nickname? According to my research (by which I mean: “opinions I’ve pretty much pulled from my ass”) ... a good, solid nickname usually comes in one of three basic formats:

1) First Name + "The" + Adjective/Noun

2) First Name + Descriptor in “Quotes” + Last Name

3) The Free-Stander

In this post let’s examine the first of these.

First Name + "The" + Adjective/Noun

Historically, this is probably the oldest known form of the nickname. You can track it through thousands of years in recorded history.

And back in the day, they really knew how to hand out nicknames.

Ramses the Great, Richard the Lionhearted, Ivan the Terrible, Attila the Hun, Conan the Barbarian … that’s pure, Grade A bad ASS.

And the very best of the bunch? Mr. Tepes himself …

Vlad the goddamn Impaler.

“I will DRINK a muthafucka!” --Vlad the Impaler, 1474.

This nickname was so pants-crappingly awesome that Bram Stoker was blown away by it 420 years later! He was so impressed with this nickname that he used Vlad as a model for one of the literature’s baddest muthafuckas - Count Goddamn Dracula. Now THAT’s a successful nickname.

Suck on that one, Scooter Libby.

Just think how much lamer history (not to mention monster movies) would have been if he’d been stuck with a weak handle. Vlad the Irritable? Vladdy the Stabby? Chuckle-Time Jim?

Thank you, Vlad’s Friends, for tagging your brutal, bloodthirsty dictator buddy with history’s ultimate nickname. The world is richer for your efforts.

Also, sorry that he probably impaled you to death. That sucks.

Sorry about that, guys. But nice work ... you know ... before.

But this nickname format isn’t without it’s perils and pitfalls, though.

The Vikings, collectively some of history’s very best bad-asses, especially dug this construction. But they didn’t always knock it out of the park, execution-wise.

I’m speaking, of course, of one Mr. Ivar the Boneless.

Real guy. Honest. The Viking who conquered the city of York in England back in 866 AD. Seriously. Go ahead, look him up. I’ll wait.

Now just how Ivar came by the nickname “the Boneless” is not recorded in history. Some historians believe he may have had a genetic disorder that made his bones soft and rubbery. Other (way meaner) historians think he may have been impotent.

“My dingus may or may not work. Also, I might be squishy.” -- Ivar the Boneless, 870 AD.

But while the etymology of this nickname may be lost to history … today it makes poor Ivar sound cowardly at best, and at worst, like something off KFC’s Value Menu.

"I like my Ivar boneless. Kully-FOO-nee-yah style!"

Is it possible that the meaning of "Boneless" has changed over the centuries? That, back in Ivar's day it meant something really cool? Like "guy who rips the bones out of his enemies?" Maybe.

But I can't take that chance. It’s vital that, if my nickname eventually takes this form, the adjective/noun at the end should be crystal clear. It's important. I don't want bloggers 1200 years from now thinking my bones are squishy or that my dingus doesn't work.

That would make my ghost in the year 3209 very sad.

Next time we'll take a look at nickname construction #2:

First Name + Descriptor in “Quotes” + Last Name


Till next we meet ...

Recycled Comedy Produces Zero Carbon-Forming Emissions

In honor of Earth Day's four month anniversary here's some more recycled Twitter comedy from last night:

Here's a little known fact I just made up: Barry Manilow wrote "Mandy" about Mandy Patinkin from "Criminal Minds."

Here's a little known fact I just made up: Donut "Jimmies" were invented by Jimi Hendrix. Before he choked to death on a vomit-load of them.

Here's a little known fact I just made up: "Bea Arthur" was a stage name. Her real name was: "Ezekiel Thundercock."

Here's a little known fact I just made up: Cats secretly have opposable thumbs but still make us open their food cans. It's a power thing.

Here's a little known fact I just made up: Don Knotts fucked like a champion.

Champion.

Here's a little known fact I just made up: JFK wasn't assassinated. It was suicide.

Here's a little known fact I just made up: Jerry Orbach founded a school to teach tantric sex techniques. To Don Knotts.

Here's a little known fact I just made up: Criss Angel subsists solely on a diet of shoelaces and used birdseed.

Here's a little known fact I just made up: Sharks can be hypnotized with gentle neck kisses.

Here's a little known fact I just made up: William Shakespeare's father was a glove-maker. And his mother was a 13-foot Bengal Tiger.


Till next we meet ...

Dear NJ Transit Commuters ...

And so the recycling effort continues. Here's a selection of my Twittered posts from yesterday ...

Dear Manhattan Tourists: I know you have no idea where you are or where you’re going -- but you’re in my way. Could you please get lost a little faster?

Dear NJ Transit Commuters: STOP running, and shoving, and elbowing to get to the train. It is NOT the last chopper out of Saigon.

Dear Elderly NJ Transit Commuter: You probably don’t really need that cane. Considering you just blew past me at a DEAD RUN.

Dear NJ Transit Commuters: Exactly why ARE you running for this train? Are you worried you’ll be late for home?

Dear NJ Transit Commuters: Are you completely unfamiliar with how stairs work? It’s called a line and it starts behind me.

Dear NJ Transit Commuters: Seriously. Stop running. This isn’t Wal-Mart and they’re not giving away VCRs.

All aboard the Crazy Train. Next Stop? Lord of the Goddamn Flies.

Dear NJ Transit Commuters: Again, why all the pushing and shoving? Why the hell are you in such a hurry to get to New Jersey?

Dear NJ Transit Commuters: Stop running. This is not Pamplona and there are no bulls behind you.

Dear NJ Transit Commuters: Fun Science Fact: Elbowing me in the sternum as you sprint by will not make trains move faster.

Dear NJ Transit Commuters: You are SO lucky I don’t own a taser. I would drain this city’s electric grid dry, muthafuckas.


Till next we meet ...

A Fool's Errands (Monday, 8/17/09)

1) Passionately soul kiss angry badger.

2) Part hair with chainsaw.

3) Enjoy a nice poop smoothie.

4) Hit the mall for some new slacks.

5) Greenlight Van Helsing 2.