Sid and Marty

ON a chance encounter with Walt Disney in the 1960s, the sibling puppeteers Sid and Marty Krofft received a valuable lesson. “He said, ‘Always put your name above everything that you create,’ ” Sid Krofft recalled in a recent interview, “ ‘because someday it’ll be worth something.’ ”

Heeding that advice, the Krofft brothers created and became indelibly associated with some of the grooviest Saturday morning children’s television programming of the 1970s, including the colorful hits “H. R. Pufnstuf,” “Sigmund and the Sea Monsters,” "The Banana Splits"and “The Bugaloos.” Yet for all the trippy nostalgia the Kroffts have induced, it has been nearly 40 years since one of their shows has been adapted into a film.

[via NYTs]

There Is No Authority But Yourself

Your weekend's homework is to watch the documentary CRASS: THERE IS NO AUTHORITY BUT YOURSELF or least read the Wiki entry for the band. You may think it bollocks, and perhaps it is, but to a lot of us old timers the Crass 'do it yourself' style of dedicated resistance was a powerful influence. The system might have got you but it won't get me.

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Catch the Google Wave?

In front of a crowd of 4,000 developers, Google
developers demoed the previously secret project
named Google Wave, which vows to break the
mold of the traditional web conversations we have
via email and instant message. Despite the lame
humor this is pretty rad but is anyone else getting
tired of all this communication yet?

Chester gets an STD (in 3 Parts)

Part 1



Part 2



Part 3

Culture of Bling Clangs to Earth

After years of starring in rap-music lyrics and videos, "bling" is losing its ring. The recession is cramping the style of hip-hop artists and wannabes -- many of whom are finding it difficult to afford the diamond-encrusted pendants and heavy gold chains they have long used to project an aura of outsized wealth. In an attempt to keep up appearances, celebrity jewelers say rappers are asking them to make medallions with less-precious stones and metals. Some even whisper that the artists have begun requesting cubic zirconia, the synthetic diamond stand-in and QVC staple.

Even my boy Johnny Dang is hurtin'

"The look is still big, it is still bling, but people are going with smaller diamonds and lower-karat gold," trading down from 18- and 14-karat alloys to 12k, which is only 50% gold, or less, says Mr. Dang. A Vietnamese immigrant, he started out at flea markets and now has a shop in the tony Galleria mall next to Neiman Marcus. To survive, Mr. Dang is relying more often on machine-made versions of his jewelry that can cut the cost of a $10,000 handcrafted pendant in half. Mr. Dang's "grillz" sales also have fallen off 60% in the recession.

[via WSJ]

The Proof Is In The Blood Puddin'

This Memorial Day Weekend honor those who gave their lives for this country by eating some old fashioned human food. Forgo boxes of Fantastic Foods' tabouli or pre-fab seitan buffalo wings for the smoked shoulder of heritage hog or a grass-fed skirt steak fried up in a skillet. Your body can handle it. The false health prophets have scared everyone off lard, butter and saturated fat and it's time to take a stand.



Memorial Day, with it's spirit of contemplation, is the perfect time to connect with friends and family over real comfort foods like cabrito or lengua de res. Do yourself a favor, share in the foodstuffs men have survived upon since time immemorial, say a little prayer for your good fortune, pass the short ribs and eat like motherfucking champion today. The proof is in the blood puddin', Puddin'.

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Jimmy Kimmel Upfront and Personal

DAVE ITZKOFF characterized it as "Jimmy Kimmel Demolishes ABC’s Upfronts" and went on to say

If Jimmy Kimmel still has a job at ABC on Wednesday, he is either a very lucky or very deft comedian, or he has great blackmail photos of the network executives.

WTF? Is Jimmy paying him? As usual its a bunch of hullabaloo about nothing so watch Windy City Heat instead. It's hilarious hullabaloo brought to you generously by the aforementioned Mr. Kimmel.

Related Posts ~ Perry Caravello Day

Regrets Are Overrated

Hayden Panettiere of NBC's Heroes wanted a tattoo in Italian that translated to "Live without Regrets," unfortunately the tattoo was misspelled. This is familiar misadventure in a world of string bikinis and endless happy hours. Old-timers here at the Mule will recall the same fate befalling Ryan Duffy, the winsome hero of VBS.TV with regards to the philosophical catch phrase Against Me! Tattoos are permanent so if you're crazy enough to let someone put their "art" on your body please hire a fact checker. The iPhone people should design a spellcheck/breathalizer tattoo-gun application for precisely those moments when a single mispell can trip up a whole life without regret policy. On the other hand, regrets are entirely overrated. Right, Hayden?

The Letter U and the Numeral 2

Sonic Outlaws is a must see documentary that profiles the great audio-collage band Negativland just after they were sued by Island Records for their parody album featuring U2 and "American Top 40" host Casey Kasem. The whole crazy endeavor documented by Craig Baldwin is available to watch online and it's a classic for anyone interested in fair use, copyfight and culture jamming. At the very least you will never say U2 the same and can add a Casey Kasem impersonation to your cocktail party arsenal. Copyright infringers will be violated.


[via Eyeteeth]

Sic Semper Tyrannis!

Ezra Levant's Western Standard re-published a series of satirical Danish cartoons depicting the Prophet Muhammad. In this month's Reason, he recounts the absurd facts behind a Canadian Human Rights Commission charging him with hurting the feelings of Islam. Levant's masterful counter strike to the complaint was to videotape the proceedings. Thanks to YouTube and a crafty mind, he was able to kangaroo the court at its own game but not without a lot of sleepless nights. Getting screwed by the Government and branded a terrorist by some half-assed, sharia shouting muslim hacks sounds like the basis of a PK Dick novel but it isn't. Read it to believe it-
The Internet Saved My Tongue: How I beat Canada's 'human rights' censors

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If your not into the separation of mosque and state please take a flying fuck at a rolling donut.

Better Hitting Through Team Chemistry

Who really cares if athletes use performance enhancing drugs? Seriously? In the same vein as legalization of recreational drugs would negate the violence associated with their distribution, letting athletes hit Deca-Durabolin or Androstenedione with impunity would obfuscate the uneasiness of sport's great moments. Everyone could be a Marion Jones. She was incredible, right? If steroids can make an average athlete a super athlete and a super athlete legendary or a sad sack franchise like the Red Sox champions, I say go for it. All's fair in love and war. Why not sports?

So if Manny Rameriz wants to take woman's fertility drugs or Dock Ellis drops LSD or even if Wade Boggs wants to eat nothing but fried chicken for chrissakes, who am I to give a whit. Guys can play drunk or goofed on coke, a la Thomas "Hollywood" Henderson, for all I care because this is America and what athletes do in the privacy of their own bloodstream is none of my business. Just hit the damn ball and pass me another VitaminWater.

And the wonderful animated telling of Dock Ellis' no-hitter is a must see baseball fan.

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Opiate is the Religion of the Bastards

In "Seeds of Terror: How Heroin Is Bankrolling the Taliban and al Qaeda," Gretchen Peters outlines the union of narco-traffickers, terrorist groups, and the international criminal underworld making bad stuff happen. It's clear and disconcerting that events happening today were set in motion by what took place in Afghanistan in the 1980s and 1990s. Listen to Peters on the Leonard Lopate Show to discuss the labyrinthine connections between terrorism, the American government, and the heroin trade that have come together to create a the real axis of evil. It's quite narcotic.




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Bud Shrake: The Leader of the Pack

Bud Shrake, one of the great bad boys of Texas letters, died today. Shrake rolled with everyone from Ann Richards to Hunter Thompson but was perhaps best known for having led the ragtag assembly of wild Texas writers calling themselves Mad Dogs. Joining Shrake in the gang were Gary Cartwright, Larry L. King, Billie Lee Brammer, Dan Jenkins, and Peter Gent. All nuts enough in their own right but when you toss in Willie Nelson and Jerry Jeff Walker the boozy, artistic mayhem got epic.

The Mad Dogs crashed headfirst into the sixties, and their legendary excesses have often overshadowed their literary production but Shrake was a writing whiz, who just so happened to hobnob with exotic strippers and criminal masterminds and be able to write about snorting coke with rodeo champions for Sports Illustrated. He deserves to be remembered as one of the state's most revered writers every bit as much as an all-time great merry maker. This video interview with Evan Smith of Texas Monthly offers insight into an era lost to the fogs of memory and the business models of the times. They stopped making Texans like Bud Shrake many many moons ago and probably just in time. RIP Bud Shrake. God bless outlaws.


Previous Posts
What Would Jack Ruby Do?

Socialism is the Sand in My Bottom

Roger Goodell Won't Stop Dogin' Michael Vick

Before Michael Vick can be welcomed back to the NFL, Commissioner Roger Goodell expects a genuine display of remorse, contrition from the tainted QB to assuage sportsfans' ethical qualms. OK, let me see if I have this straight. For actions off the field involving dog fighting, Vick was sentenced to prison for two years, lost his livelihood and his fortune and now that he's set to be released, they're worried he no longer posses the moral fiber to run up and down the gridiron on Sunday afternoons with an inflated pig bladder under his arm. WTF?

Vick is undoubtedly a dumbass and a criminal but come on man, we're talking about dogs. He trained them to fight to the death, he killed the injured ones and culled those he considered weak. All for fun. Weird shit to be sure but the army trains humans to kill one another unswervingly, horse trainers and even farmers dispatch injured horses without a second thought and, oh yea, ever wonder what happens to all the Chinese baby girls? I am not making excuses for him but crazier shit goes down all the time. And after all, he doesn't want reinstatement to the Court of St James, he wants to play football, one of the most violent and inhumane activities on the planet.

Vick's debt to society will have been paid upon release from Federal Prison on May 20 but it appears he'll have to further placate Goodell and the not so silent animal-loving majority. My suggestion is that Michael Vick take his apology straight to those who really deserve it. That's right, the whole animal kingdom. Picture this: a prime time, NFL branded, Dr Doolitle styled press conference broadcast via satellite to every zoo, savannah, SPCA and Lion Country Safari in the world. Vick can grovel and announce he's realized the error of his ways, proclaim his adoption of the vegan lifetsyle as a consequence and, upon reinstatement to the league, will refuse on principle to play with leather footballs. Vick's ethical call for synthetic game balls will repair the rift between animal rights activists and football fans, open a whole new market of hippies to Goodell's PR juggernaut, plus negate Players' Union's fears about swine flu exposure. He'd be killing two birds with one stone. That is if we were talking about the old Michael Vick.

Coasting Is Not A Crime

Fixed-gear track bikes are boring. Snobby faux jocks are the only people I know who ride these things around the City. What happened to relaxing bike rides where hot chicks willingly hopped up on the handlebars for kisses and coasting like in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid? Has the whole world gone to hell? Why else would you lock yourself into a fixed motion machine like a slave? Racing is one thing-- but shaving your legs and wearing a unitard should be saved for your time on the track if you must give in to the urge.

Like coasting? You bet your fat ass I do.



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When In Doubt, Hire A Peeler

Comedy writer Andrea Wachner hated the idea of going to her 10-year high school reunion so much that she hired a stripper to go instead, and what followed, she says, was a comical study in human nature. Her story is detailed in a nearly 40-minute documentary directed by Wachner that, because of issues surrounding its length and getting approval to show it from former classmates, may never be seen -- not even by her parents.

I Can't Believe It's Not Cocaine

Do people get paid to design these Apps?
I am speechless. This iPhone cocaine has
rendered me mute. On the sunnyside, I won't
feel like throwing myself off the Brooklyn Bridge
in the morning because I don't have an iPhone.