I found this jpg on a backup CD I was digging through. And just think: It could have been lost forever! Thank God I backed it up!

Ten Other Products That People Interested In Hammacher Schlemmer’s New Computerless E-Mail Printer May Want To Consider Purchasing:

– A Receiverless Telephone

– A Bladeless Knife

– A Wireless Wire

– A Memory Foam Hammer

– An Ink-Drenched Towel

– A Single-Cube Ice Tray

– A “God Bless This Mess” Wall Hanging From Some Shitty Antique Store In Door County, Wisconsin

– A Windex Bottle Full Of Blood

– A Computer

Let’s Paint, Exercise and Eat Pie Live #1
the best public access show just got even bester. how? they added pie. more available here.

Sheeeeeeeeeeeit
i don’t know what this is from but it cracks me up anyway.

Monster Mash: Bobby Brown & Mike Tyson
brain asploded.

1960s Commercial – Low Calorie Canned Fruit
this video rules for 2 or possibly even 3 reasons. can you spot them?

The Last Unicorn
holy fucking shit.

EZ Catch Chicken Harvester
hey, look! chickens! ha ha ha! yay! hey… wait! chickens! where are you going? oh, yeah. to die.

An Indian Take On Thriller
sometimes i wish i could dance. like right now, for example.

Turtle Rape
isn’t nature beautiful?

Russian Hooligan Fight
you are a pussy. your friends? pussies. these guys? not so much.

Arnold Fights A Bear
damn right he does.

Little Superstar
if you haven’t seen this by now you suck at the internet. seriously.

I wonder what Kevin G. Boyd was doing when he came up with the idea for Bling H20. I bet he was sitting on a black leather couch, taking a sip of Fiji water. He probably put it down on his glass coffee table, looked at the bottle and thought to himself, “You know what? I bet I can trick morons into paying way more money for this shit than $3.” Thus spoke a Hollywood writer-producer, and thus Bling H20 was born. It’s $25 – $40 a bottle. The bottle is filled with water. Read their ad copy and brace yourself for another terrorist attack:

“Bling H2O is the inspiration of Kevin G. Boyd, Hollywood writer-producer. While working on various studio lots where image is of the utmost importance he noticed that you could tell a lot about a person by the bottled water they carried. In Hollywood it seemed as if people flaunted their bottled water like it was part of their presentation. Whether the bottles had a cool shape or came from an exotic island, none truly made that defining statement. Bling H2O was fashioned to make that defining statement. The mission was to offer a product with an exquisite face to match exquisite taste. The product is strategically positioned to target the expanding super-luxury consumer market. Initially introduced to hand-selected athletes and actors, Bling H2O is now excitedly expanding it’s availability. Bling H2O has been featured at many recent celebrity events including the MTV Video Music Awards and television’s biggest event, The Emmys. Bling H20 is pop-culture in a bottle. But it’s not for everyone, just those that Bling. So the question is: Do You Bling?“

Wasn’t that whole fucking city supposed to have fallen into the ocean already?

(via geekologie)

“Jokes: The Rough Cuts” is up today on Cracked.com.  From now on I shall be known as “Ross Wolinsky, Humorist.”  You know… instead of “that short jew.”

My quiz “What’s Attacking You?” is in the new issue of Cracked. This time I’m for real. It’s got Mel Gibson on the cover and Maddox is on the page facing mine and it looks fucking awesome. Go buy it. They’ve got it at Borders and Barnes & Noble. Pwnage.

This… is the voice. The voice that I use. To speak? With? Out of my mouth… comes… these… words? These… Words. These words which I use to bring about a verbalistic… revolution? The revolution that will… be… televised? If a revolution is televised in the streets, does it make… a… sound? One hand clapping? Try a million hands… shackled! Chained! Chained to their own… apathy? Apathetic? Diuretic? Verbalistically pathetic as we kneel to worship false idols like the shiny… almighty… dollar. Shiny like a blinged out ride… shiny like “ice.” Shiny like the cold gleam of a pistol in the moonlight as a brother robs another brother of… his… wealth. Wealth! But not the kind that makes one wealthy! Not the kind that makes one healthy! Wealthy? Healthy? Try “broke.” “Smoke.” “Weed?” “Cheeba?” “Reba.” “McEntire.” “… is a Grammy Award-winning singer and one of the best-selling country music performers of all time.” Quoth the wikipedia… nevermore… never bore… never TIRE? Of these liars? Tryin’ to tell me hip hop is dead… my words are FIRE! They INSPIRE! Even though I end? Each sentence? Like it’s a question even though the vast majority of them are actually STATEMENTS? STATEMENT: When I talk this way it makes me sound more intelligent? Even though the vast majority… of the time… I’m not actually saying much of ANYTHING? Much of anything… too much of everything? That’s the problem with America? Sometimes… I like to eat pizza? But other times… I’m in the mood… for some other kind of food? Like possibly hamburgers? Or maybe a Subway sandwich? Sandwich? Rich bitch? Don’t call… women… bitches… or… whatever? I don’t know much but I know I love you… and that may be… all I need… to know? I don’t know much… but I know… this Def… Poetry… Voice… SUCKS?

Thank you, thank you.

Like most people out there, I’m really into Tampa public access television programs from the late 1980’s to early 1990’s. I always considered myself a bit of an expert on the subject (who doesn’t?), but somehow I managed to snooze on this Sondra Prill character for years. What gives? Why didn’t anyone tell me about her before?

Sondra Prill (according to a much more detailed article about a quarter of the way down this page) allegedly took herself completely seriously as the star of a three-episode program entitled – get this – “My Show.” Sondra sang, dance and postured her heart out in each installment of the show that, according to Eric Williams of ubu.com, “provided a showcase for Sondra’s ever-evolving range of things at which she tried to be talented.” Over the course of the three shows she went from a country darlin’ to a tone-deaf diva, covering everything from Hank Williams to Janet Jackson and Technotronic. The shows were peppered with incomprehensible skits that revolved around characters like “Nellie Pineapple” and “Millie The Old Lady.”

Now I know what you’re thinking: there’s no way she could possibly have taken this seriously. You could argue that convincingly, if it weren’t for Sondra’s swan song: a 1992 concert at the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center Playhouse Theatre entitled “A Musical Fantasy.” We’re talking about a Hurricane Andrew fundraiser at a 900-seat arena here. Here’s Daniel Ruth of the Tampa Tribune on the subject:

“Ticket prices for her show ranged up to $50, a testimony to a rather intriguing assessment of her talents considering recent (and slightly better known) TBPAC performers such as Al Green and Patti LaBelle charged a maximum ticket price of $25.

“Of course Green and LaBelle lack Sultry Sondra’s unique way of handling a melody – a cross between the dulcet sound of setting one’s hair on fire and sticking one’s hand into a garbage disposal.

“Friday night’s show was not without its highlights. First, it started about 20 minutes late and in an inadvertent gaffe much to the delight of the audience, Sultry Sondra’s microphone failed during one of her songs, which meant we were all spared from having to listen to her.

“Fortunately for the rest of the city, there weren’t that many of us in the audience. Only 41 tickets were sold to Sultry Sondra, a commentary on the good sense of the populace. Of course they did miss that dramatic moment during the performance where Sultry Sondra had honey poured all over her for no particular reason. Say, That’s Entertainment!

“Needless to say the victims of Hurricane Andrew won’t be benefitting much from Friday’s extravaganza of the banal. But then again, perhaps the folks down in Miami could send Sultry Sondra a few bucks – as professional courtesy from one disaster to another.”

Here’s the bottom line: Sondra Prill is either the most brilliantly retarded performance art that Florida ever spawned or a foaming, raving lunatic, but either way her videos are absolutely fucking hysterical. Ladies and gentlemen of the internet… I give you Sondra Prill. Or YouTube does, I guess. I’ll give you the links to YouTube and then YouTube will give you Sondra Prill.

Sondra Prill – Nasty Boys

Sondra Prill – Pump Up The Jam

Sondra Prill – Addicted To Love

Sondra Prill – Your Cheatin’ Heart

Sondra Prill – Little Melissa

Sondra Prill – Nellie Pineapple

Sondra Prill – Millie The Old Lady

Sondra Prill – Mario The Body Builder

Sondra Prill – Smile Toothpaste Commercial

Sondra Prill – Imitates Eddie

Sondra Prill – Star Spangled Banner

Sorry Margo, but I think I’m gonna have to pass on this one. I’m sure the babies are very sexy, and yeah, I understand that they’re waiting (presumably for me and not for, say, a bus or a phonecall or something), but I’ve got a lot of shit to do today. I feel really bad turning down a membership considering this club was clearly designed specifically for me (who, after all, are all those sexy babies waiting for?!), but I’m busy and I don’t know what I’d be expected to do once I actually joined and, well, golly. I’m sorry, Margo. Margo4Me. Really. I am. Maybe if you or your sexy friends had a totally free live cam somewhere that I could watch? A live feed just 4 me? That would be just splendid. Also, it would help if you really actually existed. That would be a good place to start. We could just sort of, you know… take it from there.

That looks like a really uncomfortable way to sit, by the way. I hope you and your sexy friends aren’t planning on waiting around for me in that position. You could throw your back out.

MySpace seriously fucking sucks. Can we go back to Friendster already, or do we have to continue to pretend that we’re enjoying this bullshit?

“I’ve got screens in my bathroom. For real. I’ve got a screen on the ceiling above my bed so I can watch Scarface while I’m fallin’ asleep, yo. I’ve got a screen built into my fridge so I can watch Scarface while I’m waiting for crushed ice. I’ve got screens pretty much everywhere I can fit them in my crib, to be honest. I’d like to get a pair built into my eyes so I can watch Scarface while I’m just walkin’ around scopin’ everything, but ain’t no doctors finna hook me up.

“Then there’s my car. Ya’ll best believe I got screens up in that shit. I got the 10.4” foldin’ down for real. Shit’s pimp, but check it: I blew all my skrilla on screens and Scarface DVDs. Now what the fuck am I supposed to watch, yo?! Let’s see… there’s gotta be somethin’ in this bargain bin if I dig deep enough… Scary Movie 4? Nahh… The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift? Ehh… Elf? Man, this is bullshit. Oh, schnaps! Joe Dirt for $3.99? David Spade’s a funny motherfucker, man! Ehh… I don’t know, man. This looks pretty shitty now that I’m lookin’ at the back of the box, yo. “From the producing team that brought you Deuce Bigalow and Big Daddy“? Sigh… you know what, man? Fuck it. I gots a tv in my car, yo! Shit’s pimp as hell and I don’t give a fuck! One Joe Dirt, please!”

Heh. Catching Someone Watching Joe Dirt In Their Car Rules.