This is my third installment of facebook status updates. Below is the newest batch, listed from most recent to least. And below those are my very first updates (when I was first requested to do this, facebook was using its old format and I couldn’t go back more than two months or so to find old ones, but recently I found that I can now go all the way back to the very first status update). So this is a monster installment, including both the most recent batch and my very first batch of updates. So enjoy the batches, bitches. I am so sorry I just called you bitches.
NEWEST BATCH:
Matt is posting his third installment of status updates in a blog.
Matt can't figure out his wife's meaning when she uses quotation marks in her email telling him he forgot to take his "grapefruit" to work this morning.
Matt thinks that with all the racist nutjobs out there, Obama should wear a protective plexiglass suit at all times, making him the first American Plexident.
Matt spent $750, gained 56 pounds, lost 4 pairs of pants, and broke 11 toasters writing this status update.
Matt can imagine what a beautiful world it would be if only everyone had something they enjoyed as much as his son enjoys the Lou Reed song "Satellite of Love."
Matt has laser-like focus when it comes to pointless bullshit.
Matt is a triple threat. He has a cold, he threw his back out, and he is in a weakened state of mental health.
Matt is going to refrain from updating about the elderly, for the sake of clarity.
Matt is not reminding you ABOUT Vigoda, he reminds you OF Vigoda. He resembles Abe Vigoda. I'd like to make it clear that Abe is alive and well as far as I know.
Matt reminds you of Abe Vigoda.
Matt is looking forward to singing "Splish Splash" at the talent show now that Potsie is out of the picture. Good ol' laryngitis.
Matt believes the children are our future, but more importantly he believes the muffins are our breakfast.
Matt calls the pillow of fat beneath his chin a villanche, because Bruce Villanche has the biggest one in the world.
Matt will actually kind of miss seeing so much of Sarah Palin. She is a funny and twisted villain. Like The Joker, only with more makeup.
Matt is telling you to wait here and help yourself to a drink from the bar while he goes and slips into something a little more comfortable.
Matt can't decide if Barack Obama is the Derek Jeter of politics or Derek Jeter is the Barack Obama of baseball.
Matt was inspired to write while holding his son late last night... http://mattschwartzer.blogspot.com/.
Matt doesn't know what to read about and obsess over all day now that the election is over.
Matt thanks everyone for their birthday wishes and thanks the country for this sweet night.
Matt can hear Republicans all over the country exclaiming "D'ohbama!"
Matt is gleefully watching election results with a belly full of scotch and ice cream cake.
Matt is voting like a mofo.
Matt wants Obama for his birthday on Tuesday, and please be creative about where you put the candle.
Matt fell asleep on the train and dreamt something funny and when he woke up he realized he had been sleeping with a big creepy grin on his face like some kind of psycho.
Matt wishes that teething made babies feel extremely sleepy.
Matt assumes, based on the fact that Bon Scott's real name was Ronald Scott, that little chocolate covered ice cream balls are really called Ronald-Ronalds.
Matt assumes, based on the fact that Bon Scott's real name was Ronald Scott, that Jon Bon Jovi's real name is Jon Ronald Jovi.
Matt wonders how many eggs it would take to make enough egg salad to take an egg salad bath.
Matt wants to start a new band called Grosstradamus.
Matt is snapping his fingers to the rhythm of the snapping of his sanity.
Matt is burning the 4:45 oil.
Matt thinks that living with a year-and-a-half old boy is probably a little like living with a tiny, demented European who knows only a small amount of English.
Matt is only cheating himself.
Matt has a special purpose.
Matt is going to balance the budget with a scalpel, a cleaver, a meat axe, a fork, nunchuks, a blowtorch, a turkey baster, a hydrogen bomb, and a pooper scooper.
Matt loves the video Brian made for him more than anything else on earth.
Matt bought a broken clock, which officially makes him a clocksucker.
Matt is stapling two pancakes together.
Matt is what every man would like to be, and what every woman would like between her sheets. It's either Matt or James Bond. I forget which.
Matt had PCP with his wife and son last night. PCP of course stands for Popcorn & Cookie Party.
Matt apologizes to his son for not differentiating between pajamas and regular clothes.
Matt craps nickels.
Matt wants to be the guy that installs the little cellophane windows on pasta boxes when he grows up.
Matt is changing his name to Bamack Obaschwartzer.
Matt is sick of Nana and Pop-Pop's bullshit.
Matt is a self-loathing American.
Matt is Columbusing it up.
Matt is trying to think of uses for a handbasket other than traveling to Hell.
Matt had fancy mustache / but can't go out lookin like that (Oh no not like that) / So he shave fancy mustache / Oh yeah naked upper lip where it be at.
Matt would like to buy a vowel. He'll take a Sometimes Y please.
Matt is scraping and smoking the residue of hatred.
Matt refuses to type "sarsgaard".
Matt wants to know, if McCain wins, would you like to go out looting with him? (Matt, not McCain, although if McCain wants to loot too you can't really blame him).
Matt thanks God that toddlers' bones seem to have the same properties as rubber, and is oddly proud of his son for diving out of his crib.
Matt is atoning while his Sabbath Goy updates his status for him.
Matt recommends that buxom women eat a lot of limes, because you can't spell scurvy without curvy.
Matt is pretty sure this internet fad will end any day now, and the new craze will be glow in the dark hockey puck cufflinks.
Matt invented a new hand sign. Give a peace sign backward so knuckles face out, then curl the pointer, leaving only the middle finger up. It is a fuck you for peace.
Matt is winding down from jamming all evening with Brooklyn's best sixteen-month-old harmonica player.
Matt is suspicious of anyone that claims to be selling a "real" lightsaber on ebay.
Matt is sewing big cursive L's onto all your sweaters, Laverne.
Matt hates low expectations. But maybe she'll throw up on the lectern or something.
Matt would rather just see Torre and Piniella thumb-wrestle for it.
Matt attributes his good mood today solely to the maracas that come in halfway through AC/DC's "Problem Child".
Matt is going to make this year the Jewishest of them all. L'shanah tovah!
Matt has that goddamn Elmo song carved permanently into his mind now & estimates that 70% of mental patients sing it while picking imaginary insects off their skin.
Matt is just so darn disappointed in NY baseball. But as TMBG say, "If it weren't for disappointments, I wouldn't have any appointments."
Matt was creeped out by the fat old bearded guy outside the Steve Earle show that touched his arm and asked him, "Are you alone?"
Matt will miss the debate in order to catch the Steve Earle show, but the show is at Judson Church so God will probably tell him who to vote for.
Matt must have tried singing three dozen other songs tonight before the kid finally fell asleep to The Safety Dance.
Matt has a huge lead in the polls.
Matt is planning a surprise party for you, so act surprised.
Matt blames the Cleveland Indians.
Matt is eating the boy's crackers.
Matt hates when he occasionally forgets to swipe his metrocard going into the subway, because he feels embarrassed when he bumps his crotch into the turnstile.
Matt is never sure how warmly to dress this time of year and always gets it wrong. Weather is stupid.
Matt considers Josh Groban the whitest guy ever.
Matt hopes he doesn't come home to Ernie lying in a puddle of blood again. Ok, it was juice, but the way Ernie was sprawled on the floor, it sure looked like blood.
Matt would just fill the old Yankee Stadium with cement and call it The Monolithic Concrete Slab of the South Bronx, if he was in charge.
Matt don't need no education, but actually he could use a little thought control.
Matt thinks all people named Ronald should be called Bon.
Matt ate abstract dogfood for hunan human melting pie.
Matt is grateful to have just been reminded that he still loves the Beatles in an almost religious way.
Matt is transforming himself into the Jewish Alec Baldwin.
Matt believes that any TV show that isn't extremely violent and/or erotic should be cancelled and replaced with a show that is extremely violent and/or erotic.
Matt will scoot over for just about anyone. He might even pat the seat before you sit down.
Matt hates that bad salad bar.
Matt is starting an ad agency where the office will be run exactly like the office on the show Mad Men, and he's currently hiring secretaries.
Matt couldn't find a bathroom so he shit in a shoebox. Would you like to buy a pair of shoes? No looksies...
Matt is going to sleep. See, I'm secure enough that I don't always need to be funny in my status update. Wait, shit... this is turning out to be a little funny.
Matt is doing research for his self-help book entitled "The Lazy Nihilist's Guide to Diet and Exercise."
Matt thinks that "Dumped many boxes of crackers on the carpeting and rubbed them in" might look pretty good on a college resume.
Matt wishes Richard Wright a great gig in the sky.
Matt is a 35 year old white male trapped in the body of a slightly less attractive 35 year old white male.
Matt is psyched to party like it's 2999 when he's 1,027. From heaven or whatever.
Matt is tempting fate with a bag of doughnuts and a bottle of vodka. Fate loves doughnuts and vodka.
Matt wonders if Tina Turner is especially scared of Hurricane Ike. That joke must have been used a thousand times already by others, but Matt just thought of it.
Matt is relieved that the words "a kiss" were at the end of the sentence that his wife started with "Today our son blew this big biker dude..."
Matt is psyched that one of his son's favorite new games is "Stuff Cookies into Daddy's Mouth."
Matt thinks Obama should have said, "You can put lipstick on a Republican, but it's still a fucking idiot."
Matt can't understand why Republicans are outraged. Obama was obviously talking about Miss Piggy, and everyone knows that all muppets are Democrats.
Matt likes pizza better than he likes you. Wait, you're not a bagel with cream cheese, are you?
Matt knocked out his George Foreman grill with one punch.
OLDEST BATCH:
Matt matt bo-bat banana-fana fo-fat me my mo matt matt. Matt.
Matt thanks the good lord for coffee. And band-aids.
Matt wants Windmill Willie back coaching third base in the Bronx now.
Matt is the Edvard Munch of whitewater rafting.
Matt is back from Newport, where he butchered the guitar solo on The Commodores' "Easy." Did Thomas McClary have to deal with sticky hands in humidity? Easy my ass.
Matt would be happy to give you a free haircut, but cannot be held responsible for the results.
Matt is doing the mashed potato, but he ain't talking about the dance.
Matt is only human. The only human that is infallible.
Matt is Barack in the saddle again. Obamalamadingdong.
Matt will become "functionally extinct" within decades at the current rate of global warming.
Matt will see you in hell. Or court. Whichever comes first.
Matt thinks it should have been called Indiana Jones and the Sharp Decline of Steven Spielberg.
Matt is going to move his car every Wednesday and Thursday night, even though alternate side parking has been suspended in his neighborhood, just to spite the man.
Matt fears that he has offended a slightly dim Lord Almighty with his last irreverent status update. And it wasn't even funny enough to risk his dumb-ass wrath.
Matt is convinced that there is indeed a God, but that He is not very bright.
Matt highly recommends hating people that highly recommend the Jalapeno Poppers from Arby's.
Matt hates people that hate wet jeans.
Matt hates people that hate couscous.
Matt will bring the bean dip to Brian's retirement party.
Matt is addicted to pony rides.
Matt is eating the 7,984,267th bagel of his life.
Matt is concerned that his status updates are getting too broad.
Matt is: "punctuating," (wildly?!?)
Matt is channeling all his energy into the tip of his finger and flicking a cotton ball through a plate glass window.
Matt counts his chickens before they hatch, puts the cart before the horse, and fills Stalin's socks with duck sauce. Wait, that last one may not be a real saying.
Matt dedicates this status update to his cyber-stalker, and you know who you are.
Matt knows you better than you know yourself.
Matt ironed man.
Matt smells like peanut butter, and rightly so.
Matt can't remember names and always forgets a face.
Matt knows that everyone knows nothing about anything and knows it.
Matt is shaking hands with Abraham Lincoln, if you know what he means.
Matt thinks that Paul Simon is looking more and more like Mel Brooks as Yogurt.
Matt is a little nauseous from the realization that he has gone 17 years between Paul Simon concerts.
Matt is creating junk for future extra-terrestrials to find, just like everyone else.
Matt will absolve your sins for the low low price of $79.95. Act now!
Matt is doing some things on purpose, and other things by accident.
Matt forgot to bring his comfy pants.
Matt is inventing tongs. Tongs haven't been invented yet, right?
Matt is tasting the sad, Michael.
Matt is starting with the man in the mirror. And by starting, I mean picking a fight.
Matt is arguing about his status update.
Matt is shaving his head for Spring.
Matt is bringing back the headband.
Matt is trying not to curse around his son, but it's not working out very well.
Matt got here the same way the coin did.
Matt won't do anything you wouldn't do.
Matt is making love out of nothing at all.
Matt is updating his status.
Matt is melting down his fillings and sculpting a teeny tiny bust of Henry Miller.
Matt puts out.
Matt is taking in his mumu.
Matt is ruling the universe from his armchair in hell.
Matt is drowning in a sea of delicious rice pudding.
Matt has got two eyes, one, two. They're both the same size, one, two. He's got two eyes, and they're both the same size.
Matt is overjoyed that he managed to stay off the Mitchell Report.
Matt is rubbing blueberry pie on his chest.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Facebook Status Updates Collection Part II
Here is the 2nd installment of my facebook status updates. Again, these go from most recent to least, beginning chronologically at the bottom...
Matt is posting some of his recent status updates in a blog. Again.
Matt will be here all week.
Matt knows that you're supposed to make lemonade when life hands you lemons, but what about when life hands you the rotted skull of Joseph Stalin? Make stalinade?
Matt is giving you five minutes, and five minutes only, to put on your makeup and get into your catsuit.
Matt thinks that Sarah is Palin' in comparison to every other woman in the world. Get it? Palin'? Ha ha ha ha ha ha! Feel free to use that. That's gold right there.
Matt is beating the crap out of a leprechaun.
Matt assumes all people are voting democrat until they tell him otherwise. Benefit of the doubt.
Matt researched the 5 presidential elections since 1848 that were held on his b-day (Nov 4). Republicans have won 3 to Dems 2. And GOP won the last 3, so we're due!
Matt is having one pancake, one flapjack, and one griddle cake for breakfast.
Matt is mad as hell and will probably continue to take it.
Matt is mad as hell and he's not going to take it anymore.
Matt thinks that the first day of school is for losers.
Matt is funny because he's true.
Matt wasn't actually late because he had to wash his hair. That would be stupid.
Matt needs to shave his head because showers take way too long when you have to soak your big stupid spongehead and then you're late for work.
Matt can't stop whistling the theme to WKRP in Cincinnati and wouldn't want to stop even if he could.
Matt hypothesizes that if things went just a little bit differently, we'd be listening to Crosby, Hitler, Nash and Young today.
Matt is self deprecating, but ironically thinks very highly of himself for being that way.
Matt isn't sure how NOT to keep it real.
Matt is cruisin' for a bruisin'.
Matt is doing the mashed potato, and he ain't talking about no dance.
Matt finds pretty much everything about Bea Arthur funny.
Matt is standing right behind you, getting ready to cover your eyes with his hands and say "Guess who?" But don't guess him or he'll be disappointed that you knew.
Matt may contain traces of peanuts or other kinds of nuts.
Matt needs to stop relaxing in ways that make him more tired than working.
Matt completes you.
Matt treats himself like a princess.
Matt prefers salary to celery.
Matt might convert to Christianity because the guy that runs the fruit stand where he gets his fruit in the morning is named Jesus and the fruit is delicious.
Matt just now realized that he doesn't think he ever tasted a Zima.
Matt never plagiarizes, because sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, and often is his gold complexion dimm'd.
Matt is certain that Tilly is short for Isoko.
Matt does not blame Tilly Ono.
Matt is going to build a better world. The only tools he requires are a bulldozer and a sheet of acid.
Matt wants to raze Staten Island and fill it with giant models of small items (like pencils and paper clips) so we'll have a place to go pretend we're very tiny.
Matt can really taste the kale.
Matt is going to do things entirely through montages from now on. All tedious and unfunny parts will be edited out and a lively tune will play in the background.
Matt isn't sure if the verb for doing things on facebook is "facebooking" or "facing book".
Matt is wearing knickers and a beanie with a propeller on top and licking a giant lollipop.
Matt thinks that if people are going to call you Eggy, you should know what albumen is.
Matt is throwing out his wallet and getting one of those canvas bags with the drawstring and the big dollar sign on the front.
Matt still can't decide if he should be a Blood or a Crip.
Matt is posting some of his recent status updates in a blog. Again.
Matt will be here all week.
Matt knows that you're supposed to make lemonade when life hands you lemons, but what about when life hands you the rotted skull of Joseph Stalin? Make stalinade?
Matt is giving you five minutes, and five minutes only, to put on your makeup and get into your catsuit.
Matt thinks that Sarah is Palin' in comparison to every other woman in the world. Get it? Palin'? Ha ha ha ha ha ha! Feel free to use that. That's gold right there.
Matt is beating the crap out of a leprechaun.
Matt assumes all people are voting democrat until they tell him otherwise. Benefit of the doubt.
Matt researched the 5 presidential elections since 1848 that were held on his b-day (Nov 4). Republicans have won 3 to Dems 2. And GOP won the last 3, so we're due!
Matt is having one pancake, one flapjack, and one griddle cake for breakfast.
Matt is mad as hell and will probably continue to take it.
Matt is mad as hell and he's not going to take it anymore.
Matt thinks that the first day of school is for losers.
Matt is funny because he's true.
Matt wasn't actually late because he had to wash his hair. That would be stupid.
Matt needs to shave his head because showers take way too long when you have to soak your big stupid spongehead and then you're late for work.
Matt can't stop whistling the theme to WKRP in Cincinnati and wouldn't want to stop even if he could.
Matt hypothesizes that if things went just a little bit differently, we'd be listening to Crosby, Hitler, Nash and Young today.
Matt is self deprecating, but ironically thinks very highly of himself for being that way.
Matt isn't sure how NOT to keep it real.
Matt is cruisin' for a bruisin'.
Matt is doing the mashed potato, and he ain't talking about no dance.
Matt finds pretty much everything about Bea Arthur funny.
Matt is standing right behind you, getting ready to cover your eyes with his hands and say "Guess who?" But don't guess him or he'll be disappointed that you knew.
Matt may contain traces of peanuts or other kinds of nuts.
Matt needs to stop relaxing in ways that make him more tired than working.
Matt completes you.
Matt treats himself like a princess.
Matt prefers salary to celery.
Matt might convert to Christianity because the guy that runs the fruit stand where he gets his fruit in the morning is named Jesus and the fruit is delicious.
Matt just now realized that he doesn't think he ever tasted a Zima.
Matt never plagiarizes, because sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, and often is his gold complexion dimm'd.
Matt is certain that Tilly is short for Isoko.
Matt does not blame Tilly Ono.
Matt is going to build a better world. The only tools he requires are a bulldozer and a sheet of acid.
Matt wants to raze Staten Island and fill it with giant models of small items (like pencils and paper clips) so we'll have a place to go pretend we're very tiny.
Matt can really taste the kale.
Matt is going to do things entirely through montages from now on. All tedious and unfunny parts will be edited out and a lively tune will play in the background.
Matt isn't sure if the verb for doing things on facebook is "facebooking" or "facing book".
Matt is wearing knickers and a beanie with a propeller on top and licking a giant lollipop.
Matt thinks that if people are going to call you Eggy, you should know what albumen is.
Matt is throwing out his wallet and getting one of those canvas bags with the drawstring and the big dollar sign on the front.
Matt still can't decide if he should be a Blood or a Crip.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Facebook Status Updates Collection
I have had several requests to list my facebook status updates in a blog, so I am finally acting on said requests. These are listed from most recent to least recent, so if you want any type of forward-moving chronology, you best start at the bottom. Unfortunately, it appears that facebook only keeps about two months' worth of updates in its history, so all the updates from before then are lost forever, save the few that I can recall. Going forward, I will try to do this every couple of months to avoid losing any future updates. Then again, I may never do this again. Yeah, that sounds like me. Anyway, without further ado...
Matt is posting a collection of the last couple of months’ status updates in a blog.
Matt swears on the life of James Brolin that he just had his name legally changed to Yentl.
Matt would like to start some pointless new stereotypes. For example, Oregonians love mints and Cubans take decent photographs.
Matt didn't get any red velvet cake.
Matt is never going to make it to the gig in Southampton on time. Anybody know of a really really really cheap helicopter rental place?
Matt is tired of reading the same book over and over just because the little guy says “again” every time the story ends. Stories end, little guy. Stories end.
Matt is squirting Elmer's Glue all over his face and thrusting his head into a giant bucket of glitter.
Matt will have what you're having.
Matt would like to know your password so he can steal your identity.
Matt will vote for the candidate that promises to do away with dollars and cents, and make broken toys and outgrown baby clothes the new U.S. currency.
Matt is getting a tattoo on his arm that says "Mom", but it is not a tribute to his mom, it is a tribute to your mom.
Matt doesn't think Elmo is so bad, but prefers pretty much every other muppet.
Matt can't decide if he is the bee's knees or the cat's whiskers, but he is definitely one or the other.
Matt is killing microscopic organisms constantly. And getting away with it.
Matt is considering saving garbage bags full of all the food that his son throws on the floor and making him eat it all on his 18th birthday.
Matt is high on life, but drugs help too.
Matt is slipping you a mickey, but he ain't talking about the drug. And he's penciling you in, but he ain't talking about an appointment.
Matt will clean your clock for twenty bucks, but will not tell you if the phrase "clean your clock" is meant literally or figuratively.
Matt would probably never use a tennis racquet if he owned one, so he would give it to you as a gift. You're welcome.
Matt loves the USA and everything it stands for. Except materialism, intolerance, violence, imperialistic greed and a bunch of other things.
Matt is trolling for clams. Or clamming for trolls. Whichever comes first.
Matt would pay top dollar for a gingerbread gun that shoots marshmallow bullets.
Matt is cruel and unusual.
Matt doesn't live every day like it's his last or his first. He lives every day kind of like it's his 9,683rd.
Matt has no interest in living each day like it's his last. He'd rather live like it is his first. (Lying around screaming, waiting to get fed and rocked to sleep.)
Matt is sprinkling fairy dust on your cracker ass.
Matt bluffed the crap out of everybody last night and won big money with garbage hands.
Matt is slightly concerned that his son's hair is starting to look so much like Gene Wilder's.
Matt is filling a paper bag with doody, putting it on your doorstep, lighting it on fire and ringing your doorbell.
Matt is trying to work out the logistics of becoming a weak, slow, clumsy vigilante crime-fighter with average intelligence and no weapons.
Matt was so psyched to see the movie this past weekend that he was actually referred to as "The Dork Knight".
Matt has no qualms about washing down jelly beans with beer.
Matt is pretty sure he saw Heath Ledger on the train this morning, disguised as a Hasid.
Matt wonders if it means that he has had enough coffee when blood starts pouring out of his ears.
Matt cannot seem to make his son understand that eyeglasses are an integral part of Daddy's survival and must be left on his face at all times.
Matt has decided that the only thing more boring than ballplayers riding in the backs of pickup trucks is regular people riding in the backs of pickup trucks.
Matt needs a method of teaching his son to drum using a spoon and a pot that doesn't involve getting repeatedly whaled in the face with a spoon.
Matt just got back from rocking the socks off a bunch of partygoers on Martha's Vineyard. Seriously, a lot of them weren't wearing socks.
Matt loves friends that go out of their way to fit his amplifier into their car so that he doesn't have to carry it on and off the ferry by hand.
Matt brakes for turtledoves.
Matt has sand coming out of his wazoo.
Matt reminds you to let go of the firecracker before it goes off.
Matt has issues. That was a typo. What it should have said was "Matt has tissues".
Matt feels effeminate, having recently eaten lavender ice cream.
Matt is 100% certain that his son is the reincarnation of Richard Pryor.
Matt takes the orange peel out of his mouth, laughs, then coughs. He starts to fall, grabs for a plant, then falls to the ground.
Matt picks a name at random from the new phonebook and says, "Johnson, Navin, R. Sounds like a typical bastard."
Matt has the intelligence of a butter cookie.
Matt will try not to make his status updates so creepy in the future, for the sake of his marriage.
Matt is getting crap from his wife about his last status update.
Matt is screwing your mother.
Matt dreamt last night that President Obama launched a full attack on Iran, and the NY Post headline was "Oh, Bomb-a!"
Matt is locked in the freezer with Mr. Furley. Again.
Matt had a dream last night that you and he were floating high above Manhattan in a magic rowboat, throwing great handfuls of gumdrops into the open mouths of the homeless.
Matt is posting a collection of the last couple of months’ status updates in a blog.
Matt swears on the life of James Brolin that he just had his name legally changed to Yentl.
Matt would like to start some pointless new stereotypes. For example, Oregonians love mints and Cubans take decent photographs.
Matt didn't get any red velvet cake.
Matt is never going to make it to the gig in Southampton on time. Anybody know of a really really really cheap helicopter rental place?
Matt is tired of reading the same book over and over just because the little guy says “again” every time the story ends. Stories end, little guy. Stories end.
Matt is squirting Elmer's Glue all over his face and thrusting his head into a giant bucket of glitter.
Matt will have what you're having.
Matt would like to know your password so he can steal your identity.
Matt will vote for the candidate that promises to do away with dollars and cents, and make broken toys and outgrown baby clothes the new U.S. currency.
Matt is getting a tattoo on his arm that says "Mom", but it is not a tribute to his mom, it is a tribute to your mom.
Matt doesn't think Elmo is so bad, but prefers pretty much every other muppet.
Matt can't decide if he is the bee's knees or the cat's whiskers, but he is definitely one or the other.
Matt is killing microscopic organisms constantly. And getting away with it.
Matt is considering saving garbage bags full of all the food that his son throws on the floor and making him eat it all on his 18th birthday.
Matt is high on life, but drugs help too.
Matt is slipping you a mickey, but he ain't talking about the drug. And he's penciling you in, but he ain't talking about an appointment.
Matt will clean your clock for twenty bucks, but will not tell you if the phrase "clean your clock" is meant literally or figuratively.
Matt would probably never use a tennis racquet if he owned one, so he would give it to you as a gift. You're welcome.
Matt loves the USA and everything it stands for. Except materialism, intolerance, violence, imperialistic greed and a bunch of other things.
Matt is trolling for clams. Or clamming for trolls. Whichever comes first.
Matt would pay top dollar for a gingerbread gun that shoots marshmallow bullets.
Matt is cruel and unusual.
Matt doesn't live every day like it's his last or his first. He lives every day kind of like it's his 9,683rd.
Matt has no interest in living each day like it's his last. He'd rather live like it is his first. (Lying around screaming, waiting to get fed and rocked to sleep.)
Matt is sprinkling fairy dust on your cracker ass.
Matt bluffed the crap out of everybody last night and won big money with garbage hands.
Matt is slightly concerned that his son's hair is starting to look so much like Gene Wilder's.
Matt is filling a paper bag with doody, putting it on your doorstep, lighting it on fire and ringing your doorbell.
Matt is trying to work out the logistics of becoming a weak, slow, clumsy vigilante crime-fighter with average intelligence and no weapons.
Matt was so psyched to see the movie this past weekend that he was actually referred to as "The Dork Knight".
Matt has no qualms about washing down jelly beans with beer.
Matt is pretty sure he saw Heath Ledger on the train this morning, disguised as a Hasid.
Matt wonders if it means that he has had enough coffee when blood starts pouring out of his ears.
Matt cannot seem to make his son understand that eyeglasses are an integral part of Daddy's survival and must be left on his face at all times.
Matt has decided that the only thing more boring than ballplayers riding in the backs of pickup trucks is regular people riding in the backs of pickup trucks.
Matt needs a method of teaching his son to drum using a spoon and a pot that doesn't involve getting repeatedly whaled in the face with a spoon.
Matt just got back from rocking the socks off a bunch of partygoers on Martha's Vineyard. Seriously, a lot of them weren't wearing socks.
Matt loves friends that go out of their way to fit his amplifier into their car so that he doesn't have to carry it on and off the ferry by hand.
Matt brakes for turtledoves.
Matt has sand coming out of his wazoo.
Matt reminds you to let go of the firecracker before it goes off.
Matt has issues. That was a typo. What it should have said was "Matt has tissues".
Matt feels effeminate, having recently eaten lavender ice cream.
Matt is 100% certain that his son is the reincarnation of Richard Pryor.
Matt takes the orange peel out of his mouth, laughs, then coughs. He starts to fall, grabs for a plant, then falls to the ground.
Matt picks a name at random from the new phonebook and says, "Johnson, Navin, R. Sounds like a typical bastard."
Matt has the intelligence of a butter cookie.
Matt will try not to make his status updates so creepy in the future, for the sake of his marriage.
Matt is getting crap from his wife about his last status update.
Matt is screwing your mother.
Matt dreamt last night that President Obama launched a full attack on Iran, and the NY Post headline was "Oh, Bomb-a!"
Matt is locked in the freezer with Mr. Furley. Again.
Matt had a dream last night that you and he were floating high above Manhattan in a magic rowboat, throwing great handfuls of gumdrops into the open mouths of the homeless.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Top Fifty 1920 Ballplayer Names
Baseball players in the early part of the century had such great names. You may have heard of ballplayers from 1920 like Pie Traynor and Tris Speaker, or at the very least Babe Ruth and Ty Cobb, who all have pretty good names, but there are so many other players whose names deserve recognition. Therefore, I present to you…
The Top Fifty 1920 Ballplayer Names (Excluding those mentioned above)
1. Jigger Statz
2. Greasy Neale
3. Sweetbreads Bailey
4. Gavvy Cravath
5. Ivey Wingo
6. Heinie Groh
7. Hippo Vaughn
8. Chippy Gaw
9. Pickles Dillhoefer
10. Zack Wheat
11. Mack Wheat
12. Shovel Hodge
13. Grover Lowdermilk
14. Ping Bowdie
15. Urban Shocker
16. Amos Strunk
17. Bubber Jonnard
18. Baby Doll Jacobson
19. Dud Lee
20. Lyman Lamb
21. Hal Leathers
22. Pinch Thomas
23. Happy Felsch
24. Chick Shorten
25. Slim Love
26. Chick Fewster
27. Bibb Falk
28. Stuffy McInnis
29. Braggo Roth
30. Mule Watson
31. Nig Clarke
32. Cy Fried
33. Pug Griffin
34. Speed Martin
35. Rowdy Elliott
36. Eppa Rixey
37. Rabbit Maranville
38. Bunny Hearn
39. Possum Whitted
40. Howdy Caton
41. Sheriff Blake
42. Mutt Wilson
43. Dutch Wetzel
44. Dixie Davis
45. Howie Shanks
46. Fred Merkle
47. Hod Leverette
48. Roxy Walters
49. Max Flack
50. Wally Pipp
The Top Fifty 1920 Ballplayer Names (Excluding those mentioned above)
1. Jigger Statz
2. Greasy Neale
3. Sweetbreads Bailey
4. Gavvy Cravath
5. Ivey Wingo
6. Heinie Groh
7. Hippo Vaughn
8. Chippy Gaw
9. Pickles Dillhoefer
10. Zack Wheat
11. Mack Wheat
12. Shovel Hodge
13. Grover Lowdermilk
14. Ping Bowdie
15. Urban Shocker
16. Amos Strunk
17. Bubber Jonnard
18. Baby Doll Jacobson
19. Dud Lee
20. Lyman Lamb
21. Hal Leathers
22. Pinch Thomas
23. Happy Felsch
24. Chick Shorten
25. Slim Love
26. Chick Fewster
27. Bibb Falk
28. Stuffy McInnis
29. Braggo Roth
30. Mule Watson
31. Nig Clarke
32. Cy Fried
33. Pug Griffin
34. Speed Martin
35. Rowdy Elliott
36. Eppa Rixey
37. Rabbit Maranville
38. Bunny Hearn
39. Possum Whitted
40. Howdy Caton
41. Sheriff Blake
42. Mutt Wilson
43. Dutch Wetzel
44. Dixie Davis
45. Howie Shanks
46. Fred Merkle
47. Hod Leverette
48. Roxy Walters
49. Max Flack
50. Wally Pipp
Thursday, June 12, 2008
The Cabinet of Disco Volante
If you pay attention to pop culture at all, there is a good chance you've heard about the experience of viewing the film The Wizard of Oz while listening to the Pink Floyd album The Dark Side of the Moon. I'd heard about this phenomenon many times over the years, but never bothered to try it, until this weekend. It was enjoyable, if not mind-blowing, and there really were a whole lot of fun coincidences lyrically and musically. More than anything else, the film and album just went together nicely, and the various moods of the music fit the moods of the film very well. That said, I think that anyone that thinks that there was any intent on the part of Pink Floyd to synch the album to the movie is out of their everlovin' gourd.
Anyway, this brings me to a similar discovery that my wife and I made several years ago, but sort of forgot about until now. There is a really great, creepy, German expressionist silent film from 1920 called The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, which is considered by some to be the first horror film. Being a silent film, there is a classical score on the soundtrack to the version that we have, and apparently there have been various scores created to go with the film over the years. However, one time a number of years ago, we put on the film with the sound turned down, and I happened to put on the Mr. Bungle album Disco Volante as the film was beginning, and we were amazed at what unfolded. We did it a couple of times again soon after, and then forgot about it. But the whole Oz/Floyd thing rekindled our memory, and we again watched Caligari/Bungle this weekend. It is amazing! This album perfectly complements the movie musically. Lyrically, there is very little similarity between the film and record, with the exception of one or two very well placed lines (it is difficult to decipher the lyrics to most of Patton's vocals on the record anyway without reading along), but musically, it is practically perfection. The pacing of the music and film are almost exact, and there are many, many times that the music suddenly stops or changes in perfect sequence with the plot and camera shots. The album has twelve tracks, but each song (as with most Bungle songs) is eclectic in and of itself, and changes musical movements incredibly often, sometimes every few seconds. And there are so many times that the music suddenly changes to fit what is happening on the screen. It's really extremely cool. If you can get your hands on the movie and album, I highly recommend watching them together in the dark. You want to start the album the moment that the film begins, that is, when the title appears onscreen. You will not be disappointed.
Next I'm going to try Porky's II: The Next Day along with Simon and Garfunkel's Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme. I'll let you know how that goes.
Anyway, this brings me to a similar discovery that my wife and I made several years ago, but sort of forgot about until now. There is a really great, creepy, German expressionist silent film from 1920 called The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, which is considered by some to be the first horror film. Being a silent film, there is a classical score on the soundtrack to the version that we have, and apparently there have been various scores created to go with the film over the years. However, one time a number of years ago, we put on the film with the sound turned down, and I happened to put on the Mr. Bungle album Disco Volante as the film was beginning, and we were amazed at what unfolded. We did it a couple of times again soon after, and then forgot about it. But the whole Oz/Floyd thing rekindled our memory, and we again watched Caligari/Bungle this weekend. It is amazing! This album perfectly complements the movie musically. Lyrically, there is very little similarity between the film and record, with the exception of one or two very well placed lines (it is difficult to decipher the lyrics to most of Patton's vocals on the record anyway without reading along), but musically, it is practically perfection. The pacing of the music and film are almost exact, and there are many, many times that the music suddenly stops or changes in perfect sequence with the plot and camera shots. The album has twelve tracks, but each song (as with most Bungle songs) is eclectic in and of itself, and changes musical movements incredibly often, sometimes every few seconds. And there are so many times that the music suddenly changes to fit what is happening on the screen. It's really extremely cool. If you can get your hands on the movie and album, I highly recommend watching them together in the dark. You want to start the album the moment that the film begins, that is, when the title appears onscreen. You will not be disappointed.
Next I'm going to try Porky's II: The Next Day along with Simon and Garfunkel's Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme. I'll let you know how that goes.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Indiana Jones and the Sharp Decline of Steven Spielberg
[SPOILER ALERT – The following review of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is meant more for people who have already seen it, and I mention a scene or two in this blog, so if you haven’t seen it and/or don’t want to know anything about it, do not read any further.]
Expectations are a funny thing. When I first heard that there was going to be a new Indiana Jones movie, I had high expectations based on the franchise’s prior successes. Then, when I heard Shia La Poof was going to be in it, my expectations were lowered quite a bit. Then, when a friend told me that it was terrible, my expectations were lowered even further. So I went to see the movie (I couldn’t resist) knowing that my expectations had practically reached their lowest possible point, and it therefore began to creep into my head that the movie might actually slightly exceed those expectations, resulting in slightly higher expectations, which turned out to be much higher expectations than I should have had. It’s all very complicated, but the bottom line is that it resulted in total non-enjoyment. Although I think that to enjoy this movie, I would have had to be expecting a root canal.
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is nothing but another large handful of dirt thrown upon the long ago fully nailed coffin that holds Steven Spielberg’s once vast talents.
People that liked this movie have said that it was “dumb fun.” Dumb, yes. Fun, no. Dumb fun would have been great. I understand that the filmmakers were going for a tongue-in-cheek, silly, fun action movie. But I didn't have much fun, other than the occasional snarky comment I tossed to my cohort in cinemisery who went to see this piece of crap with me, and making little games out of the viewing (I was off by 5 minutes on the snake scene, having called that it would appear at 1:15. It actually arrived at 1:10.). Even the silly homages to other films (ie. Caddyshack, The Wild One), which I usually enjoy in a movie, were much too overt, preposterous and annoying. I really couldn't wait for the movie to end. If it had been in a multiplex, I might have walked out and seen something else.
I felt like nobody that was involved with this movie was trying to make it any good, except maybe Cate Blanchett, who was stunning as usual. The script made no sense, the acting was half-hearted or maybe even quarter-hearted (Harrison Ford just threw away line after line, not that the lines were very punchy anyway), and the action was never resolved with any kind of cleverness. For example, the characters go over a waterfall, everybody's ok, they go over another waterfall, everybody's ok, they go over a REALLY BIG waterfall, and everybody's ok. I'm supposed to be entertained by that? I haven’t seen a hundred characters in a hundred other movies go over a hundred other waterfalls? How boring is this? It was like watching a learning-disabled family ride the flume at an amusement park. Can the characters' survival at least be made interesting? Can they escape their peril in a slightly more interesting way than “they just survive?”
The acting was surprisingly horrid. I at least expected Harrison Ford to be slightly amusing or charmingly cocky or something. But I didn’t for a moment believe that it was Indiana Jones I was watching on the screen. Ford seemed like he was reading his lines off of cue cards, and furthermore, he appeared to be reading them for the first time. His inflection was flat and uninspired. I got the feeling that he was embarrassed to be playing this character at this point in his life. Also his pants looked really new, like he just bought them at The Gap. Indiana Jones shouldn't be wearing brand new pants.
This is very important.I also found Shia La Poof to be very irritating, but then again I always find him to be very irritating. He has this confused sort of arrogance, and this arrogance seems unjustified to me. Unlike other stars of the big screen, whose arrogance may be dignified or charming or comical, La Poof is just snotty. He’s like a little green snot and when I watch him in a movie I feel like he’s getting smeared all over my glasses. And why would anybody cast someone with an afro as a greaser? His frizzed-up hair refused to stay put, and didn’t work as the slicked back “duck’s ass” hairstyle so popular with the toughs of the late fifties. He looked like a sort of olive-skinned, fuzzy-headed semitic Elvis impersonator straight out of some white supremacist’s rock and roll nightmare.
Another thing I don't understand... was Marion Ravenwood supposed to be demented or has Karen Allen lost her mind in real life or what? What was with that looney smile glued to her wide mug the whole time? She just seemed like some chubby wacko running around. I couldn’t believe for a single second that this bloated nutcase was a woman that the great Indiana Jones would have any interest in whatsoever.
While watching this clunker, I had this image of Spielberg, Ford and Lucas all sitting around drunk at a fancy dinner, saying things like, "Um, let's see... how about ants? We haven't done ants yet. What the hell. Throw some ants in there. And have we done waterfalls yet? Maybe. But put that in there too anyway. Who really cares at this point? The suckers will see this thing no matter what. Ha ha ha ha ha." Actually, the murderous ants were probably my favorite part of the movie. But that's not saying much.
I read an interview with Spielberg where he said that he felt like he was on vacation while he was making this movie. Makes sense to me. I felt like he was on vacation too.
Expectations are a funny thing. When I first heard that there was going to be a new Indiana Jones movie, I had high expectations based on the franchise’s prior successes. Then, when I heard Shia La Poof was going to be in it, my expectations were lowered quite a bit. Then, when a friend told me that it was terrible, my expectations were lowered even further. So I went to see the movie (I couldn’t resist) knowing that my expectations had practically reached their lowest possible point, and it therefore began to creep into my head that the movie might actually slightly exceed those expectations, resulting in slightly higher expectations, which turned out to be much higher expectations than I should have had. It’s all very complicated, but the bottom line is that it resulted in total non-enjoyment. Although I think that to enjoy this movie, I would have had to be expecting a root canal.
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is nothing but another large handful of dirt thrown upon the long ago fully nailed coffin that holds Steven Spielberg’s once vast talents.
People that liked this movie have said that it was “dumb fun.” Dumb, yes. Fun, no. Dumb fun would have been great. I understand that the filmmakers were going for a tongue-in-cheek, silly, fun action movie. But I didn't have much fun, other than the occasional snarky comment I tossed to my cohort in cinemisery who went to see this piece of crap with me, and making little games out of the viewing (I was off by 5 minutes on the snake scene, having called that it would appear at 1:15. It actually arrived at 1:10.). Even the silly homages to other films (ie. Caddyshack, The Wild One), which I usually enjoy in a movie, were much too overt, preposterous and annoying. I really couldn't wait for the movie to end. If it had been in a multiplex, I might have walked out and seen something else.
I felt like nobody that was involved with this movie was trying to make it any good, except maybe Cate Blanchett, who was stunning as usual. The script made no sense, the acting was half-hearted or maybe even quarter-hearted (Harrison Ford just threw away line after line, not that the lines were very punchy anyway), and the action was never resolved with any kind of cleverness. For example, the characters go over a waterfall, everybody's ok, they go over another waterfall, everybody's ok, they go over a REALLY BIG waterfall, and everybody's ok. I'm supposed to be entertained by that? I haven’t seen a hundred characters in a hundred other movies go over a hundred other waterfalls? How boring is this? It was like watching a learning-disabled family ride the flume at an amusement park. Can the characters' survival at least be made interesting? Can they escape their peril in a slightly more interesting way than “they just survive?”
The acting was surprisingly horrid. I at least expected Harrison Ford to be slightly amusing or charmingly cocky or something. But I didn’t for a moment believe that it was Indiana Jones I was watching on the screen. Ford seemed like he was reading his lines off of cue cards, and furthermore, he appeared to be reading them for the first time. His inflection was flat and uninspired. I got the feeling that he was embarrassed to be playing this character at this point in his life. Also his pants looked really new, like he just bought them at The Gap. Indiana Jones shouldn't be wearing brand new pants.
This is very important.I also found Shia La Poof to be very irritating, but then again I always find him to be very irritating. He has this confused sort of arrogance, and this arrogance seems unjustified to me. Unlike other stars of the big screen, whose arrogance may be dignified or charming or comical, La Poof is just snotty. He’s like a little green snot and when I watch him in a movie I feel like he’s getting smeared all over my glasses. And why would anybody cast someone with an afro as a greaser? His frizzed-up hair refused to stay put, and didn’t work as the slicked back “duck’s ass” hairstyle so popular with the toughs of the late fifties. He looked like a sort of olive-skinned, fuzzy-headed semitic Elvis impersonator straight out of some white supremacist’s rock and roll nightmare.
Another thing I don't understand... was Marion Ravenwood supposed to be demented or has Karen Allen lost her mind in real life or what? What was with that looney smile glued to her wide mug the whole time? She just seemed like some chubby wacko running around. I couldn’t believe for a single second that this bloated nutcase was a woman that the great Indiana Jones would have any interest in whatsoever.
While watching this clunker, I had this image of Spielberg, Ford and Lucas all sitting around drunk at a fancy dinner, saying things like, "Um, let's see... how about ants? We haven't done ants yet. What the hell. Throw some ants in there. And have we done waterfalls yet? Maybe. But put that in there too anyway. Who really cares at this point? The suckers will see this thing no matter what. Ha ha ha ha ha." Actually, the murderous ants were probably my favorite part of the movie. But that's not saying much.
I read an interview with Spielberg where he said that he felt like he was on vacation while he was making this movie. Makes sense to me. I felt like he was on vacation too.
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