1) "Hey Punchy, take me to Gator Gulch, you whiskey-soaked bastard!"
2) "Lock and load THIS!" (points to teddy bear)
3) "We don't have time for the goddamn hospital! Just cut out the bullet and clean the fuckin' wound with gin!"
4) "Alright, listen up, you gut-rotted meat sack: when we cross the border in to Mexico, you and I are OUT of the smuggling racket!"
5) "I always hoped the last thing you'd see on Earth would be my face, you slimy prick!" (pulls trigger)
Thursday, 27 September 2012
Monday, 24 September 2012
I Love Birds Now!!!
Lately I have been very interested in bird-watching and plumage identification. This has been very useful to me as a way of overcoming my grief over the death of my adolescent housekeeper Patty Knees, who passed away after inhaling five pounds of melted candy through a large straw. In any case, I have become a regular John James Audubon! (I'm not referring to the famed ornithologist, mind you, but rather the Miami weatherman who was recently found nude on the beach screaming at random birds.) I am pleased to report that I have become so adept at this activity that I have actually managed to identify several new species of birds trilling around my vast Vermont estate. Herewith are some of these species and the common characteristics they exhibit.
The bobbingale, small and red-plumed with a black stripe along its tail and a beak made entirely of sawtooth oak. It glued this beak on itself in 1994 after losing its original beak in a vicious barfight with Mickey Rourke. The fight broke out after the bobbingale became drunk and accused Rourke of receiving lip, cheek and collarbone implants in order to win the role of a sex-starved fruit pie in the Joel Schumacher romantic comedy Too Much Goo!!!???? The bobbingale hasn't seen Rourke since, but is happy about his recent comeback, even if he does think it will prove to be short-lived.
The red-bearded night hawk, known for being a hawk and having a red beard. The red-bearded night hawk ain't got all the goddamn time in the world to sit around jawing with the likes of you. The red-bearded night hawk was at the Stones's Altamont concert in '69, but complained that there "wasn't enough ACTION, baby". It once walked into a church right in the middle of Sunday service and broke a pool cue over the altar, just to "get a little somethin' shakin'!" It often places its wings over an open fire in the hopes that the pain will help it see God.
The blood-spattered blue jay is basically just a blue jay covered in blood. It comes home more often than not at 1 am, covered in blood with a haunted look in its eyes. Trembling, you ask it where it's been and what the blood's from. The only answer it ever gives is "I am making things right. Soon the Lord will take note of my deeds and deliver us, deliver us all." It sometimes hangs out with the red-bearded night hawk, drafting up "blueprints" for something they call "The Final Assignment". Don't talk to either of these birds, or the first one either for that matter. Just avoid birds, for they are thousands of years old and subsist on human anxiety.
The bobbingale, small and red-plumed with a black stripe along its tail and a beak made entirely of sawtooth oak. It glued this beak on itself in 1994 after losing its original beak in a vicious barfight with Mickey Rourke. The fight broke out after the bobbingale became drunk and accused Rourke of receiving lip, cheek and collarbone implants in order to win the role of a sex-starved fruit pie in the Joel Schumacher romantic comedy Too Much Goo!!!???? The bobbingale hasn't seen Rourke since, but is happy about his recent comeback, even if he does think it will prove to be short-lived.
The red-bearded night hawk, known for being a hawk and having a red beard. The red-bearded night hawk ain't got all the goddamn time in the world to sit around jawing with the likes of you. The red-bearded night hawk was at the Stones's Altamont concert in '69, but complained that there "wasn't enough ACTION, baby". It once walked into a church right in the middle of Sunday service and broke a pool cue over the altar, just to "get a little somethin' shakin'!" It often places its wings over an open fire in the hopes that the pain will help it see God.
The blood-spattered blue jay is basically just a blue jay covered in blood. It comes home more often than not at 1 am, covered in blood with a haunted look in its eyes. Trembling, you ask it where it's been and what the blood's from. The only answer it ever gives is "I am making things right. Soon the Lord will take note of my deeds and deliver us, deliver us all." It sometimes hangs out with the red-bearded night hawk, drafting up "blueprints" for something they call "The Final Assignment". Don't talk to either of these birds, or the first one either for that matter. Just avoid birds, for they are thousands of years old and subsist on human anxiety.
Friday, 21 September 2012
A Primer On Our Tiny Town And Its "Crime"!
Hey there! Welcome to our sleepy little hamlet! We here in Dozington live a quiet, casual kind of life, far removed from the hustle and hubabub of big city existence! Yep, things around here are pretty peaceful for the most part. In fact, even our crime, when we do have it, is pretty mellow. So, if you ever stop by our bucolic little village for a friendly visit, you might read this short little primer we've prepared that lists the three most "notorious" (har har!) crimes that have ever occurred in Dozington. Try not to "doze" off in the middle of it! Heh heh!
April 17, 1965
Enos Bainbridge, 81, got a little steamed at his cousin Eenis, 78, after a game of poker at the home of mutual friend Eli Belge. During the game, Enos became convinced that Eenis was cheating. Enos got so angry about Eenis winning the pot that night that he stormed out of Eli's home and drove away-- in EENIS'S truck! Eenis got so mad about Enos stealing his truck that he called the Dozington police and reported it stolen. After Enos was apprehended at his house later that night, however, Eenis decided to drop the charges. Which begs the question: what's the exact opposite of "kissin' cousins"? Ha ha!
June 28, 1982
Dozington police received a call at 12:35 AM reporting that a group of teens were congregating behind an abandoned grain silo out near Rural Road #2. Suspecting a large drug transaction, deputies raced to the scene expecting to encounter some real heat! Instead, they found a group of classmates from that year's graduating high school class spray-painting "Class of 82" on the side of the silo. Boy, were their faces (and hands) red! (They were using red spray-paint.)
April 2012-present
Local officials sure have been "bewitched" by this crime caper! It appears that over the last five months, someone has been kidnapping local residents and sacrificing them in Satanic blood rituals! Boy, the person doing this must be quite the little devil! Ha ha! No one has any idea who could be committing these murders, although if you want my guess, it's probably a real Gloomy Gus! Yeesh! But seriously, if you are visiting here for whatever reason, it's probably best to stay the night out of town somewhere. It is extremely dangerous.
April 17, 1965
Enos Bainbridge, 81, got a little steamed at his cousin Eenis, 78, after a game of poker at the home of mutual friend Eli Belge. During the game, Enos became convinced that Eenis was cheating. Enos got so angry about Eenis winning the pot that night that he stormed out of Eli's home and drove away-- in EENIS'S truck! Eenis got so mad about Enos stealing his truck that he called the Dozington police and reported it stolen. After Enos was apprehended at his house later that night, however, Eenis decided to drop the charges. Which begs the question: what's the exact opposite of "kissin' cousins"? Ha ha!
June 28, 1982
Dozington police received a call at 12:35 AM reporting that a group of teens were congregating behind an abandoned grain silo out near Rural Road #2. Suspecting a large drug transaction, deputies raced to the scene expecting to encounter some real heat! Instead, they found a group of classmates from that year's graduating high school class spray-painting "Class of 82" on the side of the silo. Boy, were their faces (and hands) red! (They were using red spray-paint.)
April 2012-present
Local officials sure have been "bewitched" by this crime caper! It appears that over the last five months, someone has been kidnapping local residents and sacrificing them in Satanic blood rituals! Boy, the person doing this must be quite the little devil! Ha ha! No one has any idea who could be committing these murders, although if you want my guess, it's probably a real Gloomy Gus! Yeesh! But seriously, if you are visiting here for whatever reason, it's probably best to stay the night out of town somewhere. It is extremely dangerous.
Thursday, 20 September 2012
LIST: 10 Pieces of Evidence Suggesting That The One Staff Writer At Your Late-Night Talk Show Is Kenny Loggins
1) "I have 82 jokes about Kenny Loggins!"
2) "Your joke is sharp and well-written, but how can we work in a reference to Kenny Loggins?"
3) "Just came up with something: 'Kenny Loggins today. In other news, Kenny Loggins also Kenny Loggins.'"
4) "Come on, guys, let's finish this monologue by 8! We gotta stay footloose! Kenny Loggins!"
5) "I am Kenny Loggins, and I love Messina, and I don't care who knows it!"
Tuesday, 18 September 2012
LIST: Top Smoochers in the World
1) Edward Vasquez, Mexico, who uses tongue, teeth AND shoe
2) Laura Kinsey, USA, who smears white chocolate on her lips before contact
3) Jean Cardine, France, who once smooched the body paint right off an extra in a Red Hot Chili Peppers video
4) Abeni Balewa, Nigeria, known as "The Kissing Hit and Run Driver"
5) Eddie Dupuis, Canada, who once kissed a fish back to life and then kissed it to death again
2) Laura Kinsey, USA, who smears white chocolate on her lips before contact
3) Jean Cardine, France, who once smooched the body paint right off an extra in a Red Hot Chili Peppers video
4) Abeni Balewa, Nigeria, known as "The Kissing Hit and Run Driver"
5) Eddie Dupuis, Canada, who once kissed a fish back to life and then kissed it to death again
Monday, 17 September 2012
Buy My Personal Items!
Hey gang! Big news! I have several items that I am selling through my website, sexcrazedspacehog.com, in an attempt to raise some money for my upcoming knee flushing operation. That's right: the litre of cola that has been sloshing around inside my leg since birth is about to be a thing of the past! In any case, here is a list of the items I will be selling. It is a veritable cornucopia, a king's feast of things I could apparently do without!
Technotronic Pump Up the Jams cassette single, tape unspooled, information on tape completely faded
The tape can easily be respooled, but the lost innocence this tape represents cannot! This item shall forever be linked in my memory with the day in 10th grade on which my high school gym teacher finally dumped me. I vividly recall furiously unravelling the tape in this cassette single while crying uncontrollably and screaming "I can no longer pump up the jams! My jams shall remain forever deflated!" I also have tapes from this period of telephone conversations between myself and my grandmother in which I tearfully pour my heart out to her while she grunts distractedly while knitting a sweater with Lyle Lovett's face on it. These tapes, however, will be housed at the Darren Springer Archives at Cornell University, just as soon as they agree to establish the Darren Springer Archives and stop sending me cease-and-desist letters.
Comb with teeth glued on
This comb is a souvenir from the day I attempted to assassinate both President Clinton and President Garfield. The latter task was ruled unnecessary when I checked a history book, which confirmed that President Garfield had died in 1881. Heartened by the fact that my to-do list was half finished without me lifting a finger, I headed to Washington, D.C. and waited for his motorcade. I managed to gain a fairly clear shot, only to find that the gun I was packing was not in fact a gun, but rather a large bag of BBQ Frito-Lays. Rather than being vilified that day, I was instead heralded as a national hero by President Clinton, who awarded me the Presidential Medal of Bitchin' Taste, an honor he made up on the spot. Anyway, I stole the comb later that day from Secretary of State Madeleine Albright after seducing her with several shouted and incoherent Spanish phrases I once heard in an ad for Vanilla Dr. Pepper.
Rubber plunger, minus stick
I removed the stick from this plunger so I could play a game of stickball with some youthful scamps in my neighborhood. Little did I know that the youths in question were actually middle-aged teamsters in short pants posing as children in order to incapacitate and rob me of the eight cases of Lik-M-Aid I kept in my front satchel. They worked me over from stem to stern for eight minutes, cruelly ignoring my pleas to continue for another five. To this day, I can't look at a package of Lik-M-Aid without feeling a pang of regret that I was unable to prolong their brutish, indelible thrashings. In all seriousness, if you are lucky enough to have a Teamster in your life, hold them tight to your fruitful bosom!
Anyway, here's the loot. Send me your best offers. I'm not entirely sure when I'll be able to send you this stuff once ordered, since I am currently recuperating in the hospital from a fairly severe thigh accident, in which my thighs crashed at high speed into the thighs of a local accountant.
Thanks!
Darren
Technotronic Pump Up the Jams cassette single, tape unspooled, information on tape completely faded
The tape can easily be respooled, but the lost innocence this tape represents cannot! This item shall forever be linked in my memory with the day in 10th grade on which my high school gym teacher finally dumped me. I vividly recall furiously unravelling the tape in this cassette single while crying uncontrollably and screaming "I can no longer pump up the jams! My jams shall remain forever deflated!" I also have tapes from this period of telephone conversations between myself and my grandmother in which I tearfully pour my heart out to her while she grunts distractedly while knitting a sweater with Lyle Lovett's face on it. These tapes, however, will be housed at the Darren Springer Archives at Cornell University, just as soon as they agree to establish the Darren Springer Archives and stop sending me cease-and-desist letters.
Comb with teeth glued on
This comb is a souvenir from the day I attempted to assassinate both President Clinton and President Garfield. The latter task was ruled unnecessary when I checked a history book, which confirmed that President Garfield had died in 1881. Heartened by the fact that my to-do list was half finished without me lifting a finger, I headed to Washington, D.C. and waited for his motorcade. I managed to gain a fairly clear shot, only to find that the gun I was packing was not in fact a gun, but rather a large bag of BBQ Frito-Lays. Rather than being vilified that day, I was instead heralded as a national hero by President Clinton, who awarded me the Presidential Medal of Bitchin' Taste, an honor he made up on the spot. Anyway, I stole the comb later that day from Secretary of State Madeleine Albright after seducing her with several shouted and incoherent Spanish phrases I once heard in an ad for Vanilla Dr. Pepper.
Rubber plunger, minus stick
I removed the stick from this plunger so I could play a game of stickball with some youthful scamps in my neighborhood. Little did I know that the youths in question were actually middle-aged teamsters in short pants posing as children in order to incapacitate and rob me of the eight cases of Lik-M-Aid I kept in my front satchel. They worked me over from stem to stern for eight minutes, cruelly ignoring my pleas to continue for another five. To this day, I can't look at a package of Lik-M-Aid without feeling a pang of regret that I was unable to prolong their brutish, indelible thrashings. In all seriousness, if you are lucky enough to have a Teamster in your life, hold them tight to your fruitful bosom!
Anyway, here's the loot. Send me your best offers. I'm not entirely sure when I'll be able to send you this stuff once ordered, since I am currently recuperating in the hospital from a fairly severe thigh accident, in which my thighs crashed at high speed into the thighs of a local accountant.
Thanks!
Darren
Friday, 14 September 2012
A Letter To My New Roommate!
Dear New Roommate,
Hi there! I hope you will enjoy your new home here at 839 Turnbull Road. We're a wacky bunch here, as you're soon to learn once you get settled in. We like to think of ourselves as a group of people living together as a result of poor decision-making, a financial inability to live on our own, and a crippling fear of loneliness. In other words, like a family! Ha ha! That's just one example of the kind of yucks you're gonna get with this crew! Anyway, I figured since I'd be out of town when you moved in, and since Tania and Shawn will both be busy, I'd leave you this note of greeting on the fridge, letting you know what to expect from each of us.
I'm Jeff, and I'm an economics student. My dream is to, some day in the distant future, complete my economics degree. One thing to keep in mind about me is that I tend to start yelling when touched. Fittingly enough, I also tend to start touching when yelled at. These tendencies have made me a big hit on the wrestling team, but a complete washout in the debate club. Another thing to remember about me is that I demand to be greeted in the morning by the sight of a hairy 300 pound man writhing in torment in a kiddie pool full of chocolate pudding. This is an essential component of a new form of therapy I've been undergoing in which I begin each day by reliving the conditions of my birth. ( I was born in an abandoned candy factory and raised by Satanic circus clowns who tormented me by insisting on doing my homework for me.)
Then you've got Tania. She's a rabid Willie Nelson fan who also happens to think that she is inhabited by Willie Nelson's spirit. I've told her numerous times that Willie Nelson is still alive, but she refuses to believe me. She spends a lot of her time organizing Farm-Aid benefits and prank-dialing Toby Keith. She also begins crying if she sees anyone sitting in a chair, so you might as well start getting used to crouching, lying down on the floor, or levitating. Oh, she also has a habit of standing in strange places at strange times, so if you wake up in the middle of the night and find her looming over you, it's best to keep your eye on her instead of going back to sleep, as a way of respecting her "process".
Finally, there's Shawn. Shawn is... actually, there's not much point in telling you about Shawn. If all goes as planned, he'll be dead soon enough.
Anyway, that's about it. A couple of final points: don't throw out any of the rotting food in the refrigerator because Tania and I like to use it to eat, and don't ever step foot in the bathtub on the off chance that it swallows you alive.
Welcome home!
Jeff
Hi there! I hope you will enjoy your new home here at 839 Turnbull Road. We're a wacky bunch here, as you're soon to learn once you get settled in. We like to think of ourselves as a group of people living together as a result of poor decision-making, a financial inability to live on our own, and a crippling fear of loneliness. In other words, like a family! Ha ha! That's just one example of the kind of yucks you're gonna get with this crew! Anyway, I figured since I'd be out of town when you moved in, and since Tania and Shawn will both be busy, I'd leave you this note of greeting on the fridge, letting you know what to expect from each of us.
I'm Jeff, and I'm an economics student. My dream is to, some day in the distant future, complete my economics degree. One thing to keep in mind about me is that I tend to start yelling when touched. Fittingly enough, I also tend to start touching when yelled at. These tendencies have made me a big hit on the wrestling team, but a complete washout in the debate club. Another thing to remember about me is that I demand to be greeted in the morning by the sight of a hairy 300 pound man writhing in torment in a kiddie pool full of chocolate pudding. This is an essential component of a new form of therapy I've been undergoing in which I begin each day by reliving the conditions of my birth. ( I was born in an abandoned candy factory and raised by Satanic circus clowns who tormented me by insisting on doing my homework for me.)
Then you've got Tania. She's a rabid Willie Nelson fan who also happens to think that she is inhabited by Willie Nelson's spirit. I've told her numerous times that Willie Nelson is still alive, but she refuses to believe me. She spends a lot of her time organizing Farm-Aid benefits and prank-dialing Toby Keith. She also begins crying if she sees anyone sitting in a chair, so you might as well start getting used to crouching, lying down on the floor, or levitating. Oh, she also has a habit of standing in strange places at strange times, so if you wake up in the middle of the night and find her looming over you, it's best to keep your eye on her instead of going back to sleep, as a way of respecting her "process".
Finally, there's Shawn. Shawn is... actually, there's not much point in telling you about Shawn. If all goes as planned, he'll be dead soon enough.
Anyway, that's about it. A couple of final points: don't throw out any of the rotting food in the refrigerator because Tania and I like to use it to eat, and don't ever step foot in the bathtub on the off chance that it swallows you alive.
Welcome home!
Jeff
Wednesday, 12 September 2012
LIST: Ten Nicknames For Your Unwanted Child
1) Lorenzo Adopto
2) Orange One
3) The Unforgiven
4) Mystery Meat
5) Billy Beer
6) Bilgy Bob
7) Begoneya
8) Platterpuss
9) Pipecleaner
10) Ummm...
2) Orange One
3) The Unforgiven
4) Mystery Meat
5) Billy Beer
6) Bilgy Bob
7) Begoneya
8) Platterpuss
9) Pipecleaner
10) Ummm...
Tuesday, 11 September 2012
My Kickstarter Page!
Hey guys, this time around I'd like to ask you for a favor. I'm launching a project on Kickstarter soon, and I just thought I'd run a rough draft of my Kickstarter page by you guys. Feel free to get in touch with me and let me know what you think. Thanks!
Hello, I am currently in the process of pursuing a goal that I have been working my entire life to achieve. Since I was ten years old, I have worked ceaselessly on making my goal a reality, toiling away in my parents' toolshed, furiously drafting and redrafting blueprints, only to scrap them entirely when they became unfeasible. Countless friends and family members have told me over the years to give up entirely, to focus on things like my job at the post office, taxidermy, and trying to get back my job at the post office. And yet, there remains within me a burning desire to see my goal to fruition! With your help, this can happen. I believe that for the relatively modest sum of $40,000, I can finally fulfill my dream: to build a time machine, go back in time, and make President Grover Cleveland punch me in the back of the neck while I eat lemon meringue pie.
You might be wondering: why does this man want President Grover Cleveland to punch him in the back of the neck while he eats lemon meringue pie? The answer to this question is that you shut your mouth. I do not need to explain the why, especially because if I did, it would take several hours to read and several buckets to mop up the tears you would surely shed. It is a poignant tale full of heartache and abandoned chili dogs. You need only know the how. Essentially, I am going to fashion the outer casing out of cardboard, sheet metal and old copies of Teen Vogue. The dials will be constructed out of old radio knobs and Adderall pills. My theory is that if I jump off the Empire State Building with enough of a running start, I can create a time warp that sends me back to 1887. Once there, I will brazenly mock his endorsement of the gold standard and suggest that his mother resembles a walrus drenched in leaf lard. He will then have no choice but to batter my neck with the full force of his ham-hock fists while I devour a lemon meringue pie for absolutely no reason.
Anyway, I figure out the potential cost of this enterprise by listening to outer-space radio serials from the 40's while meditating on top of a model nuclear reactor, so please give! I'll be sure to give Grover your thoughts on the Interstate Commerce Commission as he throttles the old mushroom stem!
Anyway, I figure out the potential cost of this enterprise by listening to outer-space radio serials from the 40's while meditating on top of a model nuclear reactor, so please give! I'll be sure to give Grover your thoughts on the Interstate Commerce Commission as he throttles the old mushroom stem!
Friday, 7 September 2012
LIST: Ten Quotes From Obscure Al Pacino Movies
1) My pancreas is like a time bomb! (Dumb Janitor)
2) I hate my grandmother's attitude towards bellydancing! (Scuba Cops)
3) Well, well-ow, my breastbone!-well. (Twitter: The Movie)
4) This party just got uber-picante! (Butter n' Ribs: The Guy Fieri Story)
5) No, no, call me Merton. Senor Chubbycakes is my FATHER'S name. (Remember The Time The Planet Sneezed?)
6) I lost my right foot, and my left foot, but I still got my middle foot! (The War Between The Three-Footed People and Lil' Wayne's Entourage)
7) Hoo ah, hoo ah, hoo ah, hoo ah, hoo ah, lettuce is on aisle 5. (The Al Pacino Impersonator Who Forgot How to Love)
8) I piled some sausage in this bassinet and I'm pretending it's my baby! (House Party 4: House Party In Space)
9) Pour some rotgut on the wound and let's head out with guns blazing! (Disney's The Silly Little Puppies)
10) Ow! I shot myself right in the passion! (Kids, I Am NOT Going to Push You Off Mount Rushmore, I Swear!)
2) I hate my grandmother's attitude towards bellydancing! (Scuba Cops)
3) Well, well-ow, my breastbone!-well. (Twitter: The Movie)
4) This party just got uber-picante! (Butter n' Ribs: The Guy Fieri Story)
5) No, no, call me Merton. Senor Chubbycakes is my FATHER'S name. (Remember The Time The Planet Sneezed?)
6) I lost my right foot, and my left foot, but I still got my middle foot! (The War Between The Three-Footed People and Lil' Wayne's Entourage)
7) Hoo ah, hoo ah, hoo ah, hoo ah, hoo ah, lettuce is on aisle 5. (The Al Pacino Impersonator Who Forgot How to Love)
8) I piled some sausage in this bassinet and I'm pretending it's my baby! (House Party 4: House Party In Space)
9) Pour some rotgut on the wound and let's head out with guns blazing! (Disney's The Silly Little Puppies)
10) Ow! I shot myself right in the passion! (Kids, I Am NOT Going to Push You Off Mount Rushmore, I Swear!)
Thursday, 6 September 2012
My Harrowing Desert Island Diary
Day 1
The ship has sunk. I have no idea if there are any other survivors besides myself. I passed out while clinging to that buoy; I awoke to find myself washed ashore on this desert isle. My available resources are 8 litres of fresh water, twelve turkey sandwiches, five bottles of suntan lotion, and, of course, my beloved desert island discs. They are:
New Kids on the Block, Hangin' Tough
Billy Joel, The Stranger
Michael Bolton, Time, Love and Tenderness
Vanilla Ice, To the Extreme
These are not my ACTUAL desert island discs, mind you; I brought them along originally as goofy joke music for my job as cruise ship DJ. However, I can only hope they offer me some solace and company as I wait for rescue, allowing me to retain my sanity, faith and peace of mind. It's just a good thing I brought along that Discman for pointless kitsch value!
Day 2
Today I smashed Billy Joel's The Stranger. I just... I couldn't.
Day 3
I spent much of the morning wandering the shoreline and marveling at the numerous varieties of sea and plant life visible therein. It is truly humbling, the breathtaking cornucopia of sensual marvels of which the universe is capable. So much life on the most micro level imaginable! Stunning. This marvellous mood was soon punctured, however, by ten minutes of listening to Vanilla Ice's To the Extreme. Do you remember that there are faux-reggae songs on that thing? There are indeed faux-reggae songs on that thing. The dogs of madness are now licking at my boot heels; darkness approaches, of both the landscape and the soul.
Day 8
I captured, cooked and ate a fish today! Starvation has been staved off! I'd be happier about this, of course, if I hadn't tried listening to the New Kids on the Block album. I know it's not for me, but still. I thought this would remind me of human beings, but it's like snorting audio plastic. Boy, I really stuck it to that group that doesn't exist any more, says the head of the fish I just ate that is staring at me with a vengeful pity. Madness soon, maybe tomorrow.
Day 15
Death approaches on the wings of death's minions. This shall be my last communique, I suspect. All around me, doom circles like a famished vulture. And so, with the last of my strength, let me mark the end of my earthly consciousness by proclaiming: Michael Bolton is slightly underrated.
(Thus marked the end of Darren Springer's island journal. His life story will be turned into a film by director Danny Boyle. He is set to be played by Michael Bolton.)
The ship has sunk. I have no idea if there are any other survivors besides myself. I passed out while clinging to that buoy; I awoke to find myself washed ashore on this desert isle. My available resources are 8 litres of fresh water, twelve turkey sandwiches, five bottles of suntan lotion, and, of course, my beloved desert island discs. They are:
New Kids on the Block, Hangin' Tough
Billy Joel, The Stranger
Michael Bolton, Time, Love and Tenderness
Vanilla Ice, To the Extreme
These are not my ACTUAL desert island discs, mind you; I brought them along originally as goofy joke music for my job as cruise ship DJ. However, I can only hope they offer me some solace and company as I wait for rescue, allowing me to retain my sanity, faith and peace of mind. It's just a good thing I brought along that Discman for pointless kitsch value!
Day 2
Today I smashed Billy Joel's The Stranger. I just... I couldn't.
Day 3
I spent much of the morning wandering the shoreline and marveling at the numerous varieties of sea and plant life visible therein. It is truly humbling, the breathtaking cornucopia of sensual marvels of which the universe is capable. So much life on the most micro level imaginable! Stunning. This marvellous mood was soon punctured, however, by ten minutes of listening to Vanilla Ice's To the Extreme. Do you remember that there are faux-reggae songs on that thing? There are indeed faux-reggae songs on that thing. The dogs of madness are now licking at my boot heels; darkness approaches, of both the landscape and the soul.
Day 8
I captured, cooked and ate a fish today! Starvation has been staved off! I'd be happier about this, of course, if I hadn't tried listening to the New Kids on the Block album. I know it's not for me, but still. I thought this would remind me of human beings, but it's like snorting audio plastic. Boy, I really stuck it to that group that doesn't exist any more, says the head of the fish I just ate that is staring at me with a vengeful pity. Madness soon, maybe tomorrow.
Day 15
Death approaches on the wings of death's minions. This shall be my last communique, I suspect. All around me, doom circles like a famished vulture. And so, with the last of my strength, let me mark the end of my earthly consciousness by proclaiming: Michael Bolton is slightly underrated.
(Thus marked the end of Darren Springer's island journal. His life story will be turned into a film by director Danny Boyle. He is set to be played by Michael Bolton.)
Wednesday, 5 September 2012
LIST: Ten Ways To Unnerve Everyone In Your College Dorm
1) Offer everyone a "sloppy heap of curry custard"
2) Refer to everyone in your dorm as "my handsome little sheepdog"
3) Ask your roommate every day if they'd like to start a ham radio society, then immediately begin sobbing
4) Sputter haplessly through largely inaccurate plot recaps of episodes of The Equalizer
5) Walk up behind your roommate in the kitchenette and yell "your lasagne is almost as spicy as my lovelife!", then give them an aggressive sidehug
6) Leave out open and half-empty jars of peanut butter on your windowsill to "send the goblins a message that we will never back down"
7) Get creative and public with your use of loofahs
8) Angrily demand that your roommate review your sleeping position and give you tips on how to attract bedbugs
9) Tearfully ask the person at the front desk at your residence "You'd never blow up the chapel on my wedding day, would you?"
10) Loudly announce on your orientation day "If I were a truck, I'd be the truck that killed Jayne Mansfield!"
2) Refer to everyone in your dorm as "my handsome little sheepdog"
3) Ask your roommate every day if they'd like to start a ham radio society, then immediately begin sobbing
4) Sputter haplessly through largely inaccurate plot recaps of episodes of The Equalizer
5) Walk up behind your roommate in the kitchenette and yell "your lasagne is almost as spicy as my lovelife!", then give them an aggressive sidehug
6) Leave out open and half-empty jars of peanut butter on your windowsill to "send the goblins a message that we will never back down"
7) Get creative and public with your use of loofahs
8) Angrily demand that your roommate review your sleeping position and give you tips on how to attract bedbugs
9) Tearfully ask the person at the front desk at your residence "You'd never blow up the chapel on my wedding day, would you?"
10) Loudly announce on your orientation day "If I were a truck, I'd be the truck that killed Jayne Mansfield!"
Tuesday, 4 September 2012
LIST: Things That Have Changed Since That Giant Blinking Eyeball Took Control Of The Planet
1) The institution of "Global Shower Hour"
2) The outlawing of Hawaiian pizza
3) Greater awareness and understanding of hairless cat rights
4) 1000% increase in death pits
5) The sun can talk now, apparently
6) #1 show on television is now "Slow Erosion of a Human Skull In the Desert", hosted by Tom Bergeron
7) We're really afraid of orange juice now for reasons that I have forgotten
8) Everyone who used to work as a management consultant is now a uranium miner
9) The world's oceans are all hounded by paparazzi
10) Average life expectancy is now "we'll finish you off as soon as possible"
2) The outlawing of Hawaiian pizza
3) Greater awareness and understanding of hairless cat rights
4) 1000% increase in death pits
5) The sun can talk now, apparently
6) #1 show on television is now "Slow Erosion of a Human Skull In the Desert", hosted by Tom Bergeron
7) We're really afraid of orange juice now for reasons that I have forgotten
8) Everyone who used to work as a management consultant is now a uranium miner
9) The world's oceans are all hounded by paparazzi
10) Average life expectancy is now "we'll finish you off as soon as possible"
Monday, 3 September 2012
REPOST: My Wikipedia Article, from June 21
Darren Springer (Born a split second after God created the wind in an orgasmic trance) is a renowned raconteur, auteur, flaneur, flambeur, entrepeneur, and patio furniture salesman. He has often been acclaimed, and on two occasions has been heralded, but, contrary to popular belief, has never been applauded.
Early Life
Born inside a mysterious membrane filled with ectoplasm and jelly on the edge of the New Mexico desert, Darren was discovered by a band of syphilitic prison wardens who had set up a commune called The Brotherhood of the Vomitous Falcons. They schooled Darren thoroughly in the arts of sabotage, thigh whipping, the post-genital arts, and “pre-antiquity ovarian baking”.
Career
In 1982 Darren began his career as a member of the East St. Louis Hooded Fangs, who terrorized the city fondling phallic produce and pretending to stumble over misplaced cleaning supplies. Between 1982 and 1989, hundreds of St. Louis residents were slightly annoyed or mildly inconvenienced by their strange yet tolerable exploits. The gang broke up in 1989 when most of them died during a rave held on top of twenty-eight live grenades. In 1991 Springer moved to Calgary and opened The Pepperoni Pen, a combination pizzeria and juvenile detention center. For eight consecutive years, readers of The Calgary Sun awarded The Pepperoni Pen the honors of “Cruelest and Most Inhumane Prison in the Province” and “Best Calzone”. He also owns eight jazzclubs, including the famed Flute and Tassel, and eight ballpoint pens. He has never sold patio furniture, and never will.
Personal Life
He gets around. You know? He gets around. I mean, not a lot, but he’s… he’s been around. He knows the score. He’s had his fair share of it. Never had to chase it either. It comes to him. Well, every now and then. I mean, he often gets afraid and doesn’t know how to go about it. But he usually closes the old deal, gets it done. One time it actually exploded. Even he’s not sure how that happened. He has no pets.
References in Popular Culture
Springer is mentioned in the 1985 breakdancing movie Ow! I Fractured My Spine While Breakdancing! I Should NOT Have Attempted Such a Risky Activity! The character of Eddie “Shitty Legs” Shittaye, played by Laurence Fishburne, mentions Springer 384 times throughout the course of the movie, never in a fitting or relevant context. The film’s other characters respond to each mention of his name by scratching their chins and loudly announcing their confusion.
In a 1995 episode of ER, the character of Jeremiah Chest, a literature professor played by Laurence Fishburne, mentions Springer 384 times throughout the course of the episode. The character of Doug Ross, played by George Clooney, becomes enraged and tries to suffocate Fishburne’s character with a small plush doll of Herb Alpert.
Awards
Springer has earned many awards throughout his career, including 87 Golden Brownies, 42 Stay Away Awards from the Society of Student Nurses, and eight Sarcastic Peabody Awards for “excellence” in broadcasting. He once stole a child’s backpack from a schoolbus, which he later bronzed and eventually ate.
Charity Work
Nah.
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