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It's like bacon for your brain.

Song Parody: Billy Idol, “Eyes Without a Face”

January 25th, 2012 · by Oliver Clozoff · Entertainment & Gossip, Observational Humor, Parody, Science & Technology

Here’s our retarded parody of Billy Idol’s “Eyes Without a Face.”

GUYS IN OUTER SPACE

I can’t drop the soap
In micro-g, nothing will fall
We’re so far from home
On rockets we have flown
No girls, just guys alone
It’s easy to believe
My crewmates Bill and Steve
Are really Jill and Eve

(Les gars dans l’espace) Guys in outer space
(parlez-vous francais) Nine months in this place
(omelette du fromage) Guys in outer space
This no-woman place, we’re guys in outer space

I spent so much time
In training for this ride
My crewmates by my side
Now in this tin can
My docking with a man
Ain’t in the mission plan

(Astronautes sont gay) Guys in outer space
(Rien de mal à cela) Thighs around my face
(Salope, s’il vous plaît) Zero-g embrace
Naked crewman chase, we’re guys in outer space

When you go off duty, back in the ship
Into someone else’s spacesuit, time to unzip
Steal away for a rendezvous in oh, the cargo module

Floating ’round your safety line
Turning slowly over, to align
Sinkin’ it down, oh
I’m tied and trussed to a couple of hand grips
Bleeding where you used cargo straps as whips
I’m thinkin’ of you, you’re back there so
Gay affairs
Gay affairs
Gay affairs

So, with only guys
It’s no wonder why
We improvise
And nobody knows
In mission control
And we won’t disclose
What “reentry” implies
Is diff’rent to us guys

(Un orignal bit ma soeur) Guys in outer space
(Cette langue est gay) Girls we have replaced
(Je déteste français) And mission log erased
What happens in space, had better stay in space
What happens in space, will always stay in space

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Re-Purposing Ideas for Your Leftover Toxic Credit Default Swaps

December 14th, 2011 · by liamj · Observational Humor, Opinion/Editorial, Parody, Uncategorized

Got caught holding the hot potato, eh? Me too. And then, suddenly, nobody else wanted to play . . .

They all said, “Umm, I don’t know, man, I think I’m tired of hot potato. How about we switch to Red Light-Green Light, or Mother May I?”

As in: Mother may I have a bail-out.

So, here we are, the salt-of-the-earth types, the ones not in on the in, left on the other side of the looking glass, peering through to try to make out what’s going on in that magic land on the other side as we hold our worthless sacks of toxic credit default swaps.

Well, fear not, favored friends, as I have been hard at work coming up with ideas to extract as much value from those sacks of garbage that I can, and today I pass these ideas along to you, my brothers and sisters, as we now sit here, at long last the first ones to be in on the in, when it comes to the subject of:

The Top Five Things to do With Your Leftover Toxic Credit Default Swaps

  • Put them in the scrapbook next to your junk bonds.
  • Go to Mexico and see if you can trade them for some Coronas.
  • Stuff a bunch into an envelope and send as payment for your next mortgage bill.
  • Call them “lidos” and sell to people as “Internet money.”
  • Make toxic credit default swap stew.

    • Godspeed,
    LJL

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    RIP: Bill Keane

    November 17th, 2011 · by Oliver Clozoff · Entertainment & Gossip, Observational Humor, Parody

    Bill Keane, creator of The Family Circus cartoon, has died.

    In his honor, here’s how we imagine the cartoon would have gone if authored by H. P. Lovecraft.

     

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    Song Parody: ABBA, “Dancing Queen”

    October 26th, 2011 · by Oliver Clozoff · Entertainment & Gossip, Parody, Satire

    Here’s our stupid parody of ABBA’s “Dancing Queen.”

    Mr. Clean

    You can scrub, you can wipe, cuts through the grime like a knife
    See that floor, watch it gleam, diggin’ the Mister Clean

    Tile’s white and the dirt sure shows
    Filthy grout, and the baseboard’s gross
    Hate to think what forensic scientists would glean
    With luminol at this scene
    Who is that muscular bald guy
    On that jug on the shelf up high
    Pour a bit in a bucket, catch a scent of pine
    Then mix it up with a sponge
    And then attack that grunge…

    You are the Mister Clean, yellow-green, oh so bald and keen
    Mister Clean, cuts through grease more than gasoline
    Your fragrance, just like pine, fighting the grime all your life
    See mop swirl, watch floors gleam, diggin’ the Mister Clean

    Dirt and grease, you just use your brawn
    One quick wiping, and then they’re gone
    Love your Magic Eraser, nothing else will do
    To get the crayon off walls
    And ’cause Pine Sol sucks balls…

    You are the Mister Clean, lean and mean, give these floors a sheen
    Mister Clean, in new Febreze® scents like Citrus Spring™
    You look like, Lost’s John Locke, except your eyebrows are white
    Ooh-ooh, see that smile, nice ear ring, diggin’ the Mister Clean

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    Sandman Has Sex Change

    October 11th, 2011 · by Oliver Clozoff · Entertainment & Gossip, Parody, Satire, Video/Pictorial Humor

    Sandman - rather, Sandwoman - recuperating from his - dammit, *her* - sex change surgery.

    NEW YORK (AP Newsliar) — The evil supervillain known as “Sandman”, an arch-enemy of Spiderman, has undergone a sex change operation and wishes to be known henceforth as “Sandwoman”.

    Born William Baker and also known by the alias Flint Marko, the Queens native gained his shape-shifting and sand manipulation superpowers when he was irradiated after accidentally falling into a sandpit beneath an experimental particle beam generator. But it was during an earlier stint in Ryker’s Island prison that he got in touch with his feminine side.

    “He became our prison bitch from day one,” says Vince “The Butcher” Cianelli, a life-sentence convict at Ryker’s Island. “I mean, he really liked doin’ hard time, if ya know what I’m sayin’. It would be like, okay guys, who wants ta be the bitch tonight?, and his would be the first hand ta go up.”

    The sex change announcement was made yesterday in a press release provided by a Sandman spokesperson. Sandman’s office declined to comment any further today, saying only that the “Sandwoman”, as (s)he is now known, is “taking a beach vacation to recuperate from surgery.”

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    Study Shows Researchers Tired of Conducting Studies

    October 10th, 2011 · by Oliver Clozoff · Parody, Satire, Science & Technology

    BERKELEY, CA (AP Newsliar) — A new study conducted by researchers at the University of California at Berkeley has revealed that researchers are sick and tired of conducting studies.

    The study was led by Dr. Amanda B. Recondwyth, chair of the Department of Studies and Research and Redundancy within UC-Berkeley’s College of Statistics and Numbers and Such. Dr. Recondwyth’s team conducted a survey of over 600 studies performed over the last 2 decades, with a view towards understanding researchers’ changing attitudes over time.

    The conclusion: Researchers are growing pretty damn tired of having to keep cranking out new studies all the time.

    The study took over four years to complete, largely due to the growing apathy of the study team. Their findings are to be published in the November issue of Scientific American, assuming they can summon the willpower to finish writing up the article.

    A related study recently showed that authors of satire articles are growing sick and tired of writing satire articles. This study was conducted by ah fuck it, who cares anyway.

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    Song Parody: Foreigner, “Hot Blooded” (again!)

    September 14th, 2011 · by Oliver Clozoff · Entertainment & Gossip, Observational Humor, Parody

    Because you can never make fun of Foreigner enough…

    FULL BLADDERED

    Well, I’m full bladdered, check it and see
    I got a feeling like I gotta go pee
    I think maybe, I might go in my pants
    I’m full bladdered, I’m full bladdered

    You don’t have to read my mind, to know that I’m in a bind
    Sonny, I gotta go!
    Now I’m out of time, let me lay it on the line
    I wanna know, why you’re drivin’ so friggin’ slow

    Now I’m overdue, better take the next exit or two
    Don’t have to poo, so just a urinal or tree will do

    That’s why, I’m full bladdered, please believe me
    Back teeth are floatin’, gonna break the levee
    Come on, asshole, can you pull off perchance?
    I’m full bladdered, I’m full bladdered

    If I seem uptight, maybe somewhat impolite
    Shall you please excuse me?
    But you must expect me to whine, when I wait such a long time
    You drive just like my grandma, but hit each pothole you see

    Can’t we stop midcourse? I gotta piss like a Russian racehorse
    Does my whining bite? Are you torturing me out of spite?

    Yeah, I’m full bladdered, please excuse me
    Gonna whip it out right now and go pee
    Hope your car the urine smell will enhance
    I’m full bladdered, I’m full bladdered.

    Now it’s up to you, you can bid your new car smell adieu
    And after I do, you’ll have to hire yourself a cleaning crew

    Well, I’m full bladdered, check it and see
    To piss will feel as good as to go number three
    Bladder’s bigger than a grown elephant’s
    I’m full bladdered, I’m full bladdered

    Full bladdered, stomach’s stretched tight
    Full bladdered, my skin’s turning white
    Full bladdered, you’re pissin me off
    Full bladdered, better hope I don’t cough
    Full bladdered, now I’m just semi-dry
    Full bladdered, feel a leak down my thigh
    Full bladdered, I’m ready to blow
    Full bladdered, here’s that warm wet flow

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    Song Parody: Gin Blossoms, “Hey, Jealousy”

    September 7th, 2011 · by Oliver Clozoff · Entertainment & Gossip, Parody, Satire

    Here’s our retarded parody of the Gin Blossom’s “Hey, Jealousy”.

    Hey, Leprosy

    Tell me, do you think I look all right
    With my disfiguring skin blight
    As you see, I’ve got no arms for drivin’
    I’ve just got stumps where lots of parts should go

    And you know, I might not smell as bad
    If you just plug your nose a tad
    If I had a clone to harvest spare parts from
    I’d be no freak sideshow

    Tomorrow we can drive around this town
    And leave some body parts around
    My ass is gone, what’s left looks like ground round, just like my face

    Hey leprosy
    Hey leprosy
    Hey leprosy
    Hey leprosy

    You can count on me to stink
    And not to sleep around
    Because the infidelious parts of me
    Fell off and hit the ground

    ‘Cos now my willy’s just held on with glue
    It’s a lovely shade of blue
    If I hadn’t gotten Hansen’s years ago
    I’d not have skin like goo

    Tommorow you can drive us both downtown
    I’ll be the scariest street-clown
    Do antics and then pass my hat around to score some change

    Hey leprosy
    Hey leprosy
    Hey leprosy
    Hey leprosy

    [guitar solo -- fingers fall off]

    Tomorrow I can show myself ’round town
    And scare the kids at the playground
    Look like I crawled from six feet underground, beyond hell’s gates

    Hey leprosy
    Hey leprosy
    Hey leprosy
    Hey leprosy

    Tell me do you think I look a fright
    Like I just lost a ginsu fight
    Think you know, I’m not one much for griping
    But gotta say, this sickness really blows

    And you know it makes me kinda mad
    That all my skin hangs off in chads
    If I hadn’t gotten Hansen’s years ago
    I’d have fingers and toes

    Tomorrow we can drive around this town
    And let the haters take me down
    Outcast, a stranger in my own hometown, it’s my sad fate,

    Hey leprosy

    Hey leprosy

    And I can take heart
    I’ll be dead when I fall apart

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    Song Parody: Foreigner, “Hot Blooded”

    August 19th, 2011 · by Oliver Clozoff · Entertainment & Gossip, Observational Humor, Parody

    Here’s our parody of “Hot Blooded” by Foreigner.

    Mudblooded

    Well, I’m mudblooded, slight and mousey
    Overachiever, my name’s Hermione
    Compensating for my muggle-born roots
    I’m mudblooded, I’m mudblooded

    You don’t need no sorting hat, to know where I should be at
    Honey, I’m Gryffendor
    Now you think it’s fine, to insult, mock, and malign
    You better know, my reply will be apropos

    I could poison you, I can make a secret potion brew
    Or else in lieu, I could could come gunning with my mad spell-foo

    That’s why, I’m mudblooded — don’t call it me
    I get hurt feelings, it’s derogatory
    Hope you maybe meet a basilisk’s glance
    I’m mudblooded, mudblooded

    It’s so impolite, maybe you should not incite
    Must you be so douchey?
    Why you always with Crabbe and Goyle? What’s that smell — anal lube oil?
    Tell me, are you queer* Malfoy? You sure look that way to me

    Do you like it rough? Are you their little prison bitch, cream puff?
    Did I guess it right? Will their snakes be Slytherin’ tonight?

    Yeah, I’m mudblooded, check it and see
    Gotta wonder if I’m an adoptee
    Or just maybe, I got magic by chance?
    I’m mudblooded, I’m mudblooded

    Harry, and Ron too — want to go and get a butter brew?
    But before we do, we’ll have to get away from You-Know-Who

    Well I’m, mudblooded, by pedigree
    I didn’t get my magic genetic’ly
    Unless maybe, mom had a dalliance?
    I’m mudblooded, I’m mudblooded

    Mudblooded, clever and bright
    Mudblooded, I study all night
    Mudblooded, aced my O.W.L.’s today
    Mudblooded, check out my GPA
    Mudblooded, I’ve an IQ that’s high
    Mudblooded, and a smile that’s wry
    Mudblooded, mad skillz at magic
    Mudblooded, watch me swish and flick

    = = = = = = =

    * not that there’s anything wrong with that ;-)

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    Song Parody: Rush, “New World Man”

    August 8th, 2011 · by Oliver Clozoff · Entertainment & Gossip, Observational Humor, Parody

    Here’s our parody of “New World Man” by Rush.

    Blue Haired Gran

    She’s a registered repubber
    She’s a Metamucil queen
    Drives a ’65 Electra,
    Bigger than a submarine

    She’s got appointment with her stylist
    For a perm and manicure
    He’s preening up her beehive
    And dying it azure

    Learning to match the beat of the polka fan
    Yearning to patch the seat of her old divan

    She’s got to bake some scones and cakes
    To bring to church socials and wakes
    She soaks her dentures overnight
    And’s careful what with she chews it
    She’s feeble enough to break a hip
    But deft enough just to bruise it

    She’s a Blue Haired Gran…

    She’s a talk show host believer
    Tuned to Rush and Hannity
    She’s a recipe exchanger
    In her church auxil’yary

    She’s got handrails inside her shower
    To prevent a nasty fall
    She keeps the temp at 80
    And always wears a shawl

    Trying to make a lace granny-square afgan
    Vying to take first place in her Yahtzee clan

    She watches “Matlock” every day
    She loves the all-you-can-eat buffet
    She’s feeble enough for a walker
    But proud enough not to use it
    She smells like mothballs and stale piss
    But wears perfume to diffuse it

    She’s a Blue Haired Gran…

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