August 23, 2009

Splinters & Bird Poop

The title is only referring to the wooden swing at the foot of my yard. I love it. It's covered in poop, unless I haul the hose down there and shoot all the crap off.

The weather has been up and down all day, but it's still my favourite place to sit and read Vanity Fair.

Speaking of poop, you have to read this piece on Farrah Fawcett. The issue comes in a choice of two covers: Michael Jackson, or Farrah. I guess the Ed McMahon issue sold out before I got there - it was such a card trumping month for celebrity deaths. Poor Larry King (there's a piece on him, as well...the ol' lizard), he must have been spinning in his chair as the bodies piled up.

Anyway. Farrah. I remember where I was when the famous nipple poster came out - high school caf. I tried for the hair, the braces made sure I would never have the teeth, and well, we won't talk about the nipples. But one thing Farrah had I'm damned thankful I never had? Ryan O'Neal. Whatta scuz. Read the link, then tell me if you have even a modicum of respect for this turd.

I chose the Farrah cover, because I was sick of Michael Jackson long before he moonwalked into the ether. Really. There is nothing I will miss, because it was over long before it was over. VF still does a piece of regurgitated interviews with their music critic and Jackson, but it's old.

The series they've been doing for the past 3 months on Madoff and his sons and wife is a blast, if only because they reportedly have Ruth Madoff spitting mad. Suck it up, lady. And with a mistress now coming out of the woodwork to announce that Bernie was a little underfunded in another sense can't be helping matters much. Oh, the rich....

I'll keep my wooden swing, with its splinters and bird poop and wasps. It squeaks when I swing, and that's just fine.


Anonymous buzzwhack said...

Yep, Ryan was a real winner.
Being famous in the seventies was a surreal experience. Personality, looks and talent, three things you have no control over, determines your star quotient, the rest is left up to the agent and luck. No wonder so many people were destroyed.

August 23, 2009 8:59 PM  
Blogger Chris Brown (not the felon) said...

I feel the same way about Ryan O'Neal as I do about David Hasselhoff. I see the Hoffmeister on some game show now, and my skin crawls. It just goes to show that like youth being wasted on the young, money is wasted on the rich. Or in Hoofelhoff's case... just wasted.

I gave a cedar bench to my parents to put by their pond, about 30 years ago. As a 22 year old I was proud of my choice of gifts for mother's/father's day as I knew they could sit by the pond together and comune with nature. Since Dad passed away, it doesn't get a lot of use anymore and it, too, is covered in bird poop and I suppose would be only too happy to donate a few splinters to whatever posterior ever chose to slide accross it's faded and sagging frame. Do you remember the old song about a Grandfather clock, and it has the verse "And it stopped, short, never to go again, when the old man died?" My brother and I build my parents a grandfather clock when we were 18 and 20 and it has not worked since the day he died.

Thanks for tweaking those memories...

August 24, 2009 7:36 AM  
Blogger Chris Brown (not the felon) said...

So there I was taking this new photo and my youngest daughter noticed a sign on the side of the road.

Perogis and 6 cabbage rolls for sale

The next day the 6 had been crossed out and replaced with a 5. We couldnt help but picture someone coming home and yelling "GRANDMA!!! WE SOLD A CABBAGE ROLL!!! SOMEONE CHANGE THE SIGN!!! CHANGE THE SIGN!!"

August 24, 2009 2:15 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Watch David Hasselpuke's reaction to young women on that show called "nobody's got talent" or something like that. He is embarassing, fawning all over them. They are usually young enough to be his daughters. He's a lech.

August 25, 2009 3:58 PM  

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