For any new readers out there who may be wondering, "What the hell is a Monday Mailgasm?"... Quite simply, I take occasional dives into the E-mail Dumpster (also known as the Trash, the Bulk Mail Folder, or just plain ol' Spam), find things that have odd and/or funny subject lines, and then include my smart-ass responses.
Hence, the photo of an actual, functioning trash can in the "real world".
All right, now that you understand the concept, here we go..
1. My mainstay of shag -- I dunno about yours, but mine is Wynonna Judd. 2. In other words, clean your system at your own risk -- My very thoughts this morning in the shower. 3. Biglietto Augurio Invito Biglietti invito feste: colorare biglietto bambinisoftw... -- Hummala bebhuhla zeebuhla boobuhla, hummala bebhuhla zeebuhla bop. 4. Not my watermelon -- Mine, neither (although watermelon sounds yummy right about now). 5. Mr Lubanga denies any wrongdoing -- Maybe he's a watermelon thief??? 6. ethically flash -- Could there be a bigger contradiction in terms? 7. Drop 12 pounds in 2 days -- Hmm... probably involves either amputation or camping out on the toilet. 8. Say Good-bye to Clumps & Smudges -- Goodbye Clumps! Goodbye Smudges! Don't forget to write! 9. Anna Nicole Smith Questions -- the odd thing about this was that the sender was listed as "Anna Nicole Smith". Zoinks, Scoob! I really thought she was DEAD!!!
Two personalities associated with ghoulishness (the fake, fun kind, not the real, gross kind) passed away within a day of each other. Coincidence? You be the judge.
Lawson Deming, who portrayed vampy Detroit TV vampire Sir Graves Ghastly, finally —as he might put it— surrendered to the Grim Reaper Tuesday night at his Ohio home.
His demise — he was believed to be 94--- was reported by Keith Milford, “gravemaster” of www.SirGravesGhastly.com. His passing marks another nail in the coffin —he’d appreciate this silliness, really — of the times when local TV stations produced kitschy, over-the-top horror movie shows to entertain kids on Saturday afternoons.
Deming spent over 50-years in broadcasting, but it was his 1967-83 run as Sir Graves Saturdays on WJBK-TV (Channel 2) that made him memorable.
Sir Graves used to be the host of old horror movies they'd show on Channel 2. He was a big deal in the Detroit area during those years. His program was also briefly syndicated in Washington, D.C. and Cleveland, but Detroit was definitely the city where his star shone brightest.
Looking back, it all seems somewhat goofy... but really, wouldn't we say that about a lot of things we liked as kids? It was good clean fun, masquerading as something scary.
Bobby "Boris" Pickett, whose dead-on Boris Karloff impression propelled the Halloween anthem to the top of the charts in 1962, making him one of pop music's most enduring one-hit wonders, has died of leukemia. He was 69.
Pickett, dubbed "The Guy Lombardo of Halloween," died Wednesday night at the West Los Angeles Veterans Hospital, said his longtime manager, Stuart Hersh. His daughter, Nancy, and his sister, Lynda, were at Pickett's bedside.
"Monster Mash" hit the Billboard chart three times: when it debuted in 1962, reaching No. 1 the week before Halloween; again in August 1970, and for a third time in May 1973. The resurrections were appropriate for a song where Pickett gravely intoned the forever-stuck-in-your-head chorus: "He did the monster mash. ... It was a graveyard smash."
Pickett's impression of Karloff (who despite his name was an Englishman, born William Henry Pratt) was forged in Somerville, Mass., where the boy watched horror films in a theater managed by his father.
OK, seriously -- who DOESN'T love "The Monster Mash"? That is, hands down, the BEST Halloween song ever recorded (yes, even better than "Thriller"). The fact that it hit the Billboard pop charts in three separate years should, in and of itself, be testimony to its greatness.
When it gets close to Halloween, I'n going to have to sing that song at karaoke, in his memory.
SATURDAY: At war with Comcast over lack of Internet connectivity. After SEVERAL phone calls to SUPPOSEDLY local offices (which in reality turned out to be their national call center -- hell, it was probably several people in the same room), I finally located an office whose equipment would work in my town... but they were closed for the day, and since their Monday-thru-Friday hours coincide quite handily with my work hours, the next day I can get there is NEXT Saturday. (Besides Internet issues, I was going to swap my digital cable box for a DVR [generic TiVO for you half-brainers]... so yes, that means that I disconnected the damn thing, which means I have to RE-CONNECT it. Arrrgh.)
Didn't want to wait a week for my Internet issues to be resolved, so I went to Wal-Mart and plopped down 63 bucks for a cable modem. (I'm smart... I'll fix your ass, Comcast... see if you keep getting my 3 bucks a month for modem rental!) Take it home, hook it all up, and... it does (or rather, doesn't do) the exact same thing as my other modem. So, finally, I called Internet Tech Support at Comcast (not the previous nitwits that I spoke to... this is a whole separate department of nitwits... JUST KIDDING!!!). Anyway, the tech finally tells me that if the "Online" light is not lit up on the modem, there is no way I'm getting on ther Internet (which seemed somewhat like common sense, but I guess it felt better to hear a technician say it). So, the upshot is, that I will have to take a few hours of personal time so that I can be home by 4 pm tomorrow. After that, I go back to Wal-Mart to return the cable modem, which they were happy to do... except that they were going to give me a gift card, because I had forgotten my receipt. Ummm... no thanks, I don't shop at Wally World often enough for a 63-dollar gift card. So, I go back home, get the receipt, go back to the store, and finally get my 63 bucks back. Thank you, Sam Walton.
The evening was kinda blase, really. Watched some TV, talked on the phone to a friend who I teased about being in the Army (she's not really in the Army, the joke was that her number came up "Private" when she called... I guess you had to be there). Didn't go out... I guess my Comcast encounters had left me physically & emotionally drained. Sigh...
(Oh, and I signed up with NetZero... they have a free service that gives you 10 hours a month of Internet time... on dial-up... oh my God, it's like waiting for ice cubes to freeze!)
SUNDAY: Got up at the crack of 10:30. Felt kinda tired and achy, but Advil & Vivarin are my friends!! Eventually, I started to feel OK, so I got myself in gear, did a bit of spring cleaning, paid some bills. Ate my brunch out on the balcony -- the weather was incredible!! Later in the day, I went to the city-owned park abotu a mile or so from me... and it was to the point in the day where the attendant had gone home, so I got in for free. Bonus! Went and sat by the lake for about half an hour. Then I left the park, went to the drive-thru at KFC, got a chicken dinner, and went back to the park. So, I had 2 meals yesterday, both of which I ate outside. That has happened since the last time I went camping, nearly two years ago.
Also, I did a lot of thinking, and this has been building up for a while. I am designating this upcoming summer "The Summer Of Love" (with a tip of the hat to old hippies everywhere). Instead of worrying about being alone and lonely, I am going to spend as much of my free time as possible doing things that I enjoy, including some things that I've never done before. For example, I absolutely LOVE the water, so I'm going to buy an inflatable kayak, and take it on the lake as often as I can tolerate. I'm going to take some day and/or weekend trips, even if I have to go alone. Stuff like that. Fun stuff. So why "The Summer Of Love"? I guess because I will be re-learning to love me. Someone will stumble into my life at some point, and if I'm mopey, she won't give me the time of day. So, the plan is to enjoy myself this summer (and spring too, actually).
Yesterday evening, I had a rather harrowing experience, that left me a bit banged up as well.
So there I was, in the parking lot of my friendly neighborhood grocery store. By the way, are you familiar with these new, shorter shopping carts?
They are about half the length of a standard shopping cart, and they're such a breeze to wheel around the store. Perfect when you're only getting a few items. The problem is that so many people like them, that you're more likely to see them out in the parking lot than inside the store. So, I decided that I'd best drag one in from outside.
So I was pushing my cart, not thinking anything outside of the ordinary and mundane, when all of a sudden... BAM! (No, Emeril's not around kicking it up a notch... sorry.) I hit this uneven spot where the asphalt meets the concrete.
Admittedly, it doesn't look like much. The height difference between the two surfaces is actually about 1/2- to 3/4-inch. Instead of the cart's front wheels going over this gap, they caught on it, the cart flipped over forwards, and I went tumbling over it. It was so bizarre. It almost seemed like everything was happening in slow-motion, yet I was powerless to stop it.
I lay there on the pavement for a couple of minutes, in pain and in shock. Some people who were standing outside smoking rushed over to help me up. After that, I went inside the store and sat down for about ten minutes to collect myself. I was sore on my arms, my hands (from breaking my fall), my knees, my stomach, my side and my back.
Some things that surprised me: -- My Bluetooth didn't fall off. -- My glasses didn't fall off. -- I didn't hit my head (I'll take sore hands over a head injury any day). -- The knees of my slacks were undamaged. -- I'm still sore this morning, although not as sore as I thought I'd be.
Anyway, not exactly a funny story... although at some point in the future, I'll probably laugh my ass off over it.
I've heard this song exactly four times, and it's made me cry each and every time. Somehow, it manages to be both incredibly sad and incredibly beautiful at the same time.
Death Cab For Cutie: "I Will Follow You Into The Dark"
Love of mine, someday you will die But I'll be close behind I'll follow you into the dark No blinding light, or tunnels to gates of white Just our hands clasped so tight Waiting for the hint of a spark
If heaven and hell decide That they both are satisfied Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs If there's no one beside you When your soul embarks Then I'll follow you into the dark
In Catholic school, as vicious as Roman rule I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black And I held my toungue as she told me, "Son, Fear is the heart of love" So I never went back
If heaven and hell decide That they both are satisfied Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs If there's no one beside you When your soul embarks Then I'll follow you into the dark
You and me have seen everything to see From Bangkok to Calgary And the soles of your shoes are all worn down The time for sleep is now It's nothing to cry about 'Cause we'll hold each other soon The blackest of rooms
If heaven and hell decide That they both are satisfied Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs If there's no one beside you When your soul embarks Then I'll follow you into the dark Then I'll follow you into the dark.
Just when you thought you couldn't be shocked by Keith Richards, the Rolling Stones' incredibly ancient guitarist... think again...
This story was brought to us by NME Magazine, by way of Yahoo News...
Keith Richards has acknowledged consuming a raft of illegal substances in his time, but this may top them all.
In comments published Tuesday, the 63-year-old Rolling Stones guitarist said he had snorted his father's ashes mixed with cocaine. "The strangest thing I've tried to snort? My father. I snorted my father," Richards was quoted as saying by British music magazine NME.
"He was cremated and I couldn't resist grinding him up with a little bit of blow. My dad wouldn't have cared," he said. "... It went down pretty well, and I'm still alive." Richards' father, Bert, died in 2002, at the age of 84.
Some thoughts on this...
Maybe the title should've read, "... and Who Went Up it".
How in the HELL can Keith Richards be older than his father?
"Say No to Drugs... but Yes to Family Members"
"Brought to You by the Partnership for a Father-Snorting-Free America"
"D.A.R.E. to Keep Rock Stars off of Parental Ashes"
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You know that whenever rock stars do something outlandish, some young people somewhere are bound to try it, too. How long before we have a relative-snorting epidemic?
