Monday, November 18, 2013

An open letter from the Ty-D-Bol Man

It's World Toilet Day, and we found this letter in a bottle from the Ty-D-Bol man...

Ahoy there! Remember me? No? Of course you don’t. It is I, the Ty-D-Bol man. You probably don’t recognize me in these filthy rags and long, scraggly hair and beard. No, I’m not the handsome nautical hero I used to be, lo those many years ago, before you closed the lid on me and left me here, abandoned, floating alone on my dinghy in your toilet tank. Marooned.

I used to have a motorboat, though God knows why. So I could get from one end of your toilet to the other faster? Please. It’s not like it’s the vast Pacific in here. It’s a toilet, fercryinoutloud! I can row it in like, two seconds. Or I could, if I hadn’t used my oars for firewood a long time ago. I chopped them up and poured what was left of the gasoline on them and burned them for warmth. That was around the same time I spelled out the word H-E-L-P on the inside of your toilet tank with Scrubbing Bubbles, hoping someone would see it and rescue me. But then you just flushed and whoosh! It was gone. Leaving me floating here, alone in a sea of sparkling blue toilet water, with nothing to do but think of what a waste my life has been.

You think I’m proud to be the Captain of a toilet dinghy? It’s humiliating! I come from a long line of famous maritime heroes. My great-grandfather was Cap’n Crunch, sailing the high seas, doing battle with Jean LaFoote, the barefoot pirate. My grandfather? The Gorton’s Fisherman. What a provider! Every night, he brought home the fish sticks. And my father, the Old Spice Sailor. He wanted me to join the navy, like my brother, Sailor Jack. He’s rich now, rolling in Cracker Jack prizes. But I got an offer from Ty-D-Bol, and I took it. Now look at me. Useless. Sure, I’m a captain. I’ve still got my captain’s hat, and my dinghy. I could perform a wedding, but who wants to get married in a toilet? No one, that’s who. I’ll die alone in your tank, and no one will ever know. Unless, by some miracle, someone finds this note I’m putting in this bottle. If you do, tell my wife and kids I love them. And tell them, don’t drink the Ty-D-Bol water. Sure, it looks great – beautiful Caribbean blue – but it’s full of chemicals.

Farewell, ungrateful person with a sparkling, clean toilet! Tell the world my story!

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Dumpty: a hard-boiled cop with a past, and other bad ideas for TV shows

With all the classic literature being “reimagined” for TV these days – from Grimm to Sleepy Hollow – it’s just a matter of time before the networks go back to the library for more. Well, when they do, we’ll be ready with a few really bad ideas. Observe:

Moby-Dick Dynasty – (Reality) In the town of New Bedford, Mass., the bearded ancestors of Captain Ahab operate a burgeoning peg leg business.

Dumpty – (Drama) Hard-boiled New Orleans detective Dan Dumpty, a brilliant but troubled modern-day ancestor of Humpty Dumpty, learns he is descended from a line of tough-yet-fragile fighters who must do battle against an assortment of dangerous fairy tale characters come to life, while also dealing with his crippling fear of heights. In the pilot, “The Big Over Easy,” Dumpty investigates the mysterious death of George Porgie. The investigation leads Dumpty to Muffet, a beautiful but troubled young woman with a tuffet and an affinity for curds and whey who had filed a restraining order against Porgie, whose unwanted advances had made her cry. Can Dumpty crack the case before it cracks him?     

Beans – (Drama) Beautiful, brilliant but troubled Portland Homicide Detective Jackie “Beans” Beanstalk, who has somehow risen to the rank of Homicide Detective at the age of 22 despite suffering from severe Tourettes Syndrome, learns from her mother on her deathbed that she is the last remaining direct descendent of Jack, the brave lad from the fairy tale “Jack and the Beanstalk.” With her last breath, her mother gives her a handful of “magic beans” -- which hold the key to the universe -- to guard from an “evil giant.” In the pilot, Jackie meets a brilliant but troubled young man named Goose who lays “golden eggs” in his pants. 

Don QuixHottie –
(Reality) A group of crazy Spaniards move in to an abandoned windmill where they vie to be Spain’s next top male model.

Shaqula – (Horror) A new take on Bram Stoker’s classic novel. Shaquille O’Neal stars as the NBA’s newest sensation – an ageless, 7-foot-tall Romanian who mesmerizes America with his seemingly unstoppable moves, yet he still can’t make a free-throw.

The Bridezilla of Frankenstein – (Reality) The reanimated beehived beauty is getting married, and the wedding is spiraling out of control.

Little Women, Big World –
(Reality) The trials and tribulations of a widowed dwarf and her three undersized daughters.

Crime & Punishment: SVU –
(Drama) Dick Wolf’s new police procedural follows the exploits of Russian Detective Porfiry of the Moscow PD, who investigates cases in the show's first half hour, followed in the second half hour by the criminals -- tormented by guilt -- confessing and being sent to Siberia.

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Tonya and the Exploding Whale

Today is a very special day in Oregon history. Very special. In fact, we’re going to go out on a limb and say that it’s probably THE most special day in Oregon history. EVER!!! Why? Because on this day, November 12, the two most fantastic things that have ever occurred in the state of Oregon happened, and they happened on the same day: November 12, 1970. A day that will live in infamy. And hilarity. Call it Infalarity. Or Hilaramy. Whatever. But 43 years ago today, on November 12, 1970, at 3:45 p.m., the famous Exploding Whale – yes, THAT exploding whale -- was blown up on the Oregon coast, in Florence. Meanwhile, in Portland, some 132 miles away as the exploding whale blubber flies, Tonya Harding was born.

Think about that for a moment. While the plunger was being pushed in Florence, turning a 45-foot-long dead sperm whale into exploding chum that slimed everything for miles, Tonya, our famous knee-whacking, hubcap hurling, transvestite-wrestling, professional boxing, unintentional sex tape star-slash-Olympic figure skater was being born.

Now, we know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Well, if this doesn’t put the dunce in coincidunce.” And then the second thing you’re thinking is, “Why hasn’t anyone, anyplace, at any time, ever mentioned this amazing coincidence before, and more importantly, where are our Tonya-and-the Exploding Whale limericks?”

Well, our long, local nightmare is over. Here they are, a handful of awful, no-good, very bad Happy Birthday, Tonya and Happy Anniversary, Exploding Whale limericks. Enjoy:

Happy Birthday to our ice-skating hick
A triple axel, you one time did stick
But then your life got unruly
Thanks, in part, to Gillooly
You were born the same day they blew up Moby Dick?

You skated to fame and became a knee-clubber
Fought Paula Jones in the ring and you drubbed her
You threw hubcaps at guys
I guess it would be no surprise
To find, being born, you were hit by a chunk of whale blubber

Tonya, some compared you to trash that is white
And your choices haven’t always been bright
At least you (mostly) stayed out of jail
And made out better than the whale
Hope your birthday is pure Dynomite!

You made Nancy Kerrigan cry
And grab at her knee wailing “Why, why, why?”
From the day you were born
You’ve dodged judgment and scorn
And chunks of dead whale from the sky