A Picture Is Worth a Thousand Words...or Two Ta-Tas.

I saw this bumper sticker (pictured to the left) in the parking lot of a bar in Mesa, Arizona. That's right, it reads, "Save the Ta-Tas". I was immediately reminded of The Mug, a guy who lived in my dorm my freshman year. The Mug so loved his pipe that he often wore a t-shirt emblazoned with the phrase, "Save the Bales". Remember those shirts?

Turns out that "Save the Ta-Tas" is more than just a classless sticker. They also attempt to present itself as a serious charitable movement.

Checking out their website I read that Julia Fiske, the designer behind Ta-Tas, saw the perfect opportunity to make some moolah by creating a series of wearables...all of which are emblazoned with her oh-so-catchy Ta-Ta phrase. Fiske obviously embraces the idea that humor helps in life-threatening situations. While I heartily agree with the sentiment, the sad reality is Fiske does not have a good sense of humor.

"Ta-tas® Brand Clothing cares about women and their families" claims Fiske. Uh-huh. That may very well be...but do you really think being tacky shows that you care more than others? That using a sexist term for breasts is the way to convey that message?

I can't see where the shirts pictured above would be considered apropos in any public setting. At least any setting that doesn't involve a stripper pole. As if to ensure that nobody gets the wrong idea (namely, that the wearer is a world-class asshole), Fiske embellishes her catch phrase with the pink ribbon of breast cancer awareness. I guess that means that you can't hate the shirt, the sentiment or the wearer. Wow, that Julia really knows how to design, huh?

And before you go off half-cocked (now couldn't you just see THAT on a t-shirt promoting awareness of testicular cancer!?!), and label me a prude, a prig or an old man grumpus, save it. I've given plenty of time and money to events/auctions/events that raise funds for breast cancer research (and you can too by clicking here). I just prefer to support worthwhile causes that get it. To my mind, Fiske and her ilk don't.

Just my two ta-tas...er, cents.

I'm all for a t-shirt promoting the awareness of humor-blogs.com.

The Kids (These Days) Are Alright.

I'll admit to indulging myself in an occasional bout of nostalgic longing for things past. Where have all our heroes gone? Dr. King gets replaced by Al Sharpton, Mark Twain with Oprah, and Teddy Roosevelt with W.

I often feel the same way about culture. Come on, is Elizabeth Berkley considered the modern day equivalent of Ginger Rogers? Nope...shouldn't even be mentioned in the same paragraph.

But I THINK I may have found the modern day equivalent of Gene Kelly. And as hard as it may be to believe...it's Christopher Walken.

Enjoy!

My weapon of choice for funny? Humor-blogs.com.

Fur Traders.

Just got back from a week in Arizona. I had wanted to post - really, I had - but the wireless network in my hotel room wouldn't allow me to upload photos, and I ask you: what is writing without pictures? I'll tell you what it is: positively Peer Gynt.

I drove up to Flagstaff early yesterday morning, attired for what I assumed would be yet another day of stifling hot weather (the mercury hadn't dipped below 100 all week long). So it was that I was driving in my rented Nissan Clown Car (similar to this one pictured) wearing a Tommy Bahama shirt, jeans and loafers sans socks when I began to notice an occasional snow flake on my windscreen. Turns out the locals in Flagstaff knew something I didn't: they were expecting a good six inches of snow within the next 24 hours...and they were all dressed for just such a likelihood. I can say from firsthand experience that nothing screams "I ain't from around here" like a Tommy Bahama shirt on a cool, overcast, snow-threatening day in Northern Arizona.

My last account call of the day was on the outskirts of Sedona in a town called Cottonwood. There I caught up with Paula Woolsey, owner of Cottonwood's New Valley Verde Wine Company and Recovery Room Restaurant, as well as The Asylum restaurant in nearby Jerome. Paula and her staff are great fun...and her establishments a must if you find yourself within a 150-mile radius. As she and the team navigated their way through the eight wines I was showing, Paula's staff popped a cork on a white wine called TAZI made by Arizona Stronghold Vineyards for my perusal. After getting my nose in and around the glass, I took a sip. It's easily the best white wine I've had from Arizona. And, despite what you might think, I have had a number of white wines from Arizona...and many of them good.

About twenty minutes into my visit I got the opportunity to meet the man behind TAZI, a one Maynard Keenan. Paula had called him down from his vineyard to meet up and taste with me. You don't need to spend much time with Maynard to know that this guy is passionate about wine, winegrowing and winemaking. And, even better, the guy has a seriously great sense of humor.

Take, for instance, another one of his labels: Merkin Vineyards. To my mind, any winemaker who has the good sense (I'd say 'balls', but it feels so contrived) to label a wine that pays tribute to the pubic toupée is the kind of winemaker you need to keep an eye on...and not just around your kids.

I shared with Maynard one of my favorite Merkin-related pieces of trivia, which just so happens to come from one of my favorite movies of all time, Dr. Strangelove. In this movie, Peter Sellers plays (among other roles) the President of the United States, Merkin Muffley. Turns out Maynard already knew that. Of course he did...I shouldda known.


And here's another Strangelovian piece of trivia: when Slim Pickens' character, Major T.J. "King" Kong* describes for his airman the contents of their survival kits, he finishes by saying, "Shoot, a fella could have a pretty good weekend in Vegas with all this stuff." Next time you watch the movie, focus on Slim's lips when he says "Vegas". In actuality he says "Dallas". The movie was filmed in 1963 and released in '64. Seems after JFK was shot, the producers had Pickens loop in "Vegas" so as not to offend anyone. Shoot.

Turns out I wasn't the only one with a penchant for truly useless trivia...so has Maynard. At the request of Andre, I brought out my iPhone to show him images of some of the labels I produced under my Negocé Wines' label. When he saw the one for Space Cadet, he instantly pegged it as an altered cover from an old L. Ron Hubbard book.

How'd he know that?

Not only was Mr. Keenan passionate and funny...the guy's also generous. As I was getting ready to leave he handed me two bottles of wine: a 2005 and 2006 "Primer Paso", a Syrah-based wine (a Paso Robles' Syrah-based wine) he crafts under the Caduceus label. Can't wait to try them...and I'll be sure to post my notes on them in due time.

And until I post these notes, go check out the links I've provided to Paula's establishments and Maynard's wines. And, oh yes, please do me the favor of clicking here on humor-blogs.com. Thanks!

* And here's a THIRD Stranglovian trivia nugget: the role of Major Kong was originally to have been played by Sellers as well. Turns out three characters were Sellers' self-imposed limit. He protested to director Stanley Kubrick against playing a fourth - Kong - so loudly that the role was finally given to Slim Pickens.

Wither The List?

Two months ago I introduced a new feature to this site...The List. The idea was that every month I would post a random list of five quotes. Each of these quotes would come from either a movie, television show or a classic work of literature. It was your job to determine the source of all five of these quotes. The first person to correctly identify all five quotes would win their choice of a Garretson Wine Company t-shirt or hat.

You see, I reasoned that since so much of the content of my blogging required no use whatsoever of your brain, the least I could do is provide one feature on this site that actually stimulated your synapses.

While our initial List was eagerly worked on by scores of readers, our current List has resulted in surprisingly few takers. That's got me wondering 'why?'. I've boiled the reasons down to three possibilities:

1.) This month's List is too difficult for most readers.
2.) The prize of a t-shirt or ball cap is not enough of an incentive.
3.) You're really only here to check in for photos of clam plate orgies, Lutefisk, and Tevaite Vernette.

If your reason for not entering our little contest this month falls under possibility #1, my apologies. Obviously, you're not spending enough time on useless trivia. If, instead, it's #2, sorry. As much as I'd love to include a bottle of my wine as part of the winnings, our friends in both Federal and State governments would have a tizzie if I gave away alcohol. Sadly, we live in a country where it's easier to transport both nuclear waste and handguns across state lines than it is a bottle of wine.

And, if it's all about #3, there's not much I can do to help you, my friend.

I welcome you to spend some time reviewing this month's List (which may be found here), and give it your best shot. This month's winner receive both a t-shirt AND a hat. I know, I know...but it's the best I can do. if you prefer, maybe I can scrounge up some depleted uranium?

Good Luck!

And good luck not busting your gut when you check out humor-blogs.com!

A Clam Plate Clarification.

Judging by the number of emails I've received about my post of two days ago (which may be found by scrolling down a bit, or by clicking here), it would appear some clarification is needed. Most of the emails I've gotten follow a similar vein; namely, "Mat, what the hell is a 'clam plate orgy'?" Please allow me to explain.

Back in the 1970s a man named Wilson Bryan Key was dining at a Howard Johnson's restaurant. Looking over the establishment's board of fare, Key came upon a photograph depicting one of Ho-Jo's most-famous dishes: fried clams. Whereas most customers saw the picture for what it was (a plate of fried clams), Key saw something far more carnal. To his trained eye, the clams in the photographs were substitutes for naked bodies in the midst of an orgy. That's right: it was a bivalve bump and grind. Key surmised that the photo on his menu was just another in a series of subliminal use of erotica to increase sales.

Wilson Bryan Key also saw subliminally disguised in this photo something even more sinister: a donkey partaking in the humans' hedonistic fête of touchy-feely. I would have loved to be in on the ad pitch of the new menu to Ho-Jo's execs: "Our research shows that a large percentage of your customers enjoy dining out...oh, and bestiality."

Key's belief in Madison Avenue's use of the sensual subliminal led to his penning a 1980 book, The Clam-Plate Orgy and Other Subliminals the Media Use to Manipulate Your Behavior. It was during the promotion of said book that I had the chance to meet Wilson Bryan Key. He came to the University of Georgia to speak about subliminal advertising...and, in a not-so-subliminal way, flog sales of his book. Of course, as a college freshman, I was all about anything with the word 'orgy' attached to it, so I eagerly attended his lecture.

I left his presentation unconvinced...and slightly amused that a grown man would so publicly proclaim his wacko conspiracy theories. Key suffers from the same malady of Mark Dice, whom I wrote about here. Whereas Dice sees spread-legged prostitutes on a coffee cup, Key sees orgies in fried food. Admittedly, Dice's delusions are much more wacked in that he has the bad form of bringing religion into his diatribes.

For those of you who, like Key, find truth in a Clam Plate Consiracy, let me indulge you with a little bit of food porn:

I know, it gets me just hot looking at it!

Instead of taking that cold shower, why don't you chill over at humor-blogs.com?

Too Much Information.

A few months ago I registered my humble blog with BlogPatrol.com. This service allows bloggers to view some pretty useful and interesting statistics about the visitors to their sites. Statistics like how many people visit each day, what country they reside in and what they're looking at are among the benefits.

One BlogPatrol statistic I recently viewed still has me laughing. Other than those of you regulars who've bookmarked this blog (and thereby come here directly), most newcomers - over 60% of them - happen on nowthatssick while searching for Tevaite Vernette. I wrote of Miss Vernette in early February (you check it out here). A cinematic 'one hit wonder', Tevaite Vernette stared (half-naked) as Mel Gibson's love interest in the 1984 movie, "The Bounty".

I held then - and still do hold - that Tevaite Vernette bears a more than striking resemblance to Tiger Woods. Without the breasts.

Can it be that there are millions of people out there who still fantisize about a bare-chested woman that was in a movie twenty four years ago?!? Appears that there are.

Irregardless of how you got here, I welcome you! And, no, I don't have any more photos of her, so please stop asking.

And if I may ask YOU to click here on humor-blogs.com? I'd really appreciate it.

First There Was the Clam Plate Orgy. And Now...

This just into our "if you ever doubted that some born again Christians really need to get laid" department: it appears that a man down in San Diego is getting a little extra, uh, stimulation every time he drops into his neighborhood Starbuck's.

The source of his new-found arousal? This newly-introduced Starbuck's logo which you see above.

I know. She's hot, isn't she? Of course she is...it's coffee, after all. But apparently your latté is also slut-tay in the eyes of one Mark Dice.

Mr. Dice, founder of a quaint little self-proclaimed Christian group called The Resistance sees "...a naked woman on it with her legs spread like a prostitute..." Uh-huh. And you would know how a spread-legged prostitute looks like how? If this logo 'piques his interest', how much you want to bet that Mark Dice takes matters into his own hands every time he watches the movie, Splash?

"Need I say more?" Dice asks...and then answers his own question with a resounding yes. "It's extremely poor taste, and the company might as well call themselves Slutbucks." Dice is calling for a boycott of Starbucks. Appears he doesn't see this coffee cup half-full...he sees it in dire need of two cups, size double D. This guy obviously isn't getting any...and it's altering his view of the world.

But seeing things that aren't really there goes hand in glove when you're Mark Dice (and, yes, that's really him pictured right). After surfing around his website I found that he also subscribes to some amazingly idiotic conspiracy theories; most notably, that 9/11 was an inside job. Dice is also convinced that many of the military bases around the U.S. harbor concentration camps.

It also seems that everywhere he looks he sees the devil. He holds that a majority of the world's political leaders are part of a secret satanic group, and that attendees of the Californian conservative retreat Bohemian Grove, members of Yale's Skull and Bones, Freemasons and Mormons are all really secret Satanists. He even thinks that the layout of streets in Washington DC were influenced by the bifurcated tongued one.

Okay, he might be onto something when it comes to Mormons.

If you believe what's written on his website (and you'd be a complete idiot if you did), Mark Dice isn't even Mark Dice...his website lists him as the man "formerly known as John Conner". Oh, I get it! John Conner, like John Connor, the fictional character in The Terminator? It's this character who becomes the leader of the future human rebellion against the cyborgs, thereby necessitating Arnold Schwarzenegger to perform some truly bad acting. Wow, Mark. That's deep. Judging by the way you dress, I'm also betting that you'll soon be hatching some theories based on The Matrix next. Guess this what happens when you allow an impressionable youth too much time in front of a movie/TV screen.

I call him a 'youth' because Mark's MySpace site lists him as 30 years old. Amazing. It only took him 30 years to become a complete and total nut job. Good on ya, Mark! At the rate you're going, in five more years you'll be old enough to run your very own religious cult.

Next stop Waco!

Mark Dice has a devil of a time believing that humor-blogs.com isn't sinful.

The self-righteous reverend Al.

I read in the newspapers today that the Reverend Al Sharpton has once again come under the investigative eye of the Federal government. It would appear that the righteous reverend may owe Uncle Sam $1.5 million in back taxes and related fines. Accusations of financial improprieties are nothing new to Al...he's 'been there, done that'. He's used to such claims, and has become all too comfortable claiming it's 'The Man trying to bring stop his crusade'.

I am no so much interested in knowing what the outcome will be as I am in a more salient question: why in the hell does anyone listen to this moron? His entry into the collective American consciousness took place 20 years ago, when he appeared screaming to all who would listen (and there were a LOT of folks willing to listen) that 15 year-old Tawana Brawley had been raped and otherwise defamed by a gang of white males. Turned out that the story Sharpton was selling was completely untrue, but what did it matter (to him)? He gained his bully pulpit.

Now, certainly, some of the issues Sharpton has rallied around are valid. But can we please have a better representative for civil rights than this buffoon? They say that heroes are a reflection of their times. I grew up with the likes of Martin Luther King and Malcom X. Sadly, today's generation has the likes of Al Sharpton.

The story of Sharpton is truly Shakespearean in its telling. He is "a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."

And if you came here to read something funny today, sorry...I'll get to that next week. In the meantime, get your funny at humor-blogs.com.

Why It's Called Dope.

I have never understood the allure of smoking Marijuana. While I've known many friends throughout my lifetime who've enjoyed firing up a joint/a bong/the one-hitter, I most often passed when I'd been offered the same. Those times that I didn't left me wondering, 'why did I even bother?' All it did for me was make me sleepy...and stinky. And all it seemed to do for my friends was make them stupid. And stinky.

Smoke dope = become stupid...and in dire need of a bath.

As if to remind us all of this fact, let's take the case of 21 year-old Charles Ray Fuller. Charlie Ray had big plans (BIG Plans) to be a somebody in the record industry. His dreams of greatness were no doubt given free reign when Charlie Ray partook of the herb. So great were his dreams that, he reasoned, all he needed was a little folding money to bring this dream to fruition.

So it was that Charles Ray Fuller - possessed of a dream and some weed - borrowed a blank check from his girlfriend's mom...obviously thinking he'd be so successful so quickly that by the time she noticed the check was missing, our hero would be able to repay his 'loan' many times over. He filled the check out, forged her signature, and presented it at a local Ft. Worth, Texas bank.

As he filled it out he no doubt though to himself, "What's it gonna take? $36,000? No, more. $360,000? No, that's just chump change. $3,600,000? As a big-time record exec, I'd spend that much on dope in a year!"

No, what Charlie Ray needed was to be liquid. So it was that he presented a check to the bank teller for $360,000,000,000. That's right: Three Hundred and Sixty Billion. With a "B".

After presenting his check, Charlie got to meet some new friends...all of whom just happened to be in the employ of the Ft. Worth Police. He was arrested for forgery, carrying a concealed .22, and being in possession of - you guessed it! - marijuana.

What a total dumb shit, huh?

Let that just be a lesson to us all...step away from that one-hitter, friend.

Studies have found repeated use of humor-blogs.com has caused a severe case of the munchies in lab rats.

THE LIST for May.

Last month I added a new feature to my blog: THE LIST. The idea is to provide readers with a random list of quotes from film, television, literature or other great works. It was then your job to determine where these quotes came from: who uttered it and where. The first person to correctly identify all of these quotes would win their choice of a Garretson Wine Company ballcap or t-shirt.

I must say that the response to this contest of sorts was very rewarding. I received entries from as far away as the UK, Japan and Australia. It would appear that many readers of this blog share something in common with its author: an annoying knowledge of truly useless trivia.

So, here it is, this month's installment of THE LIST. They all share one thing in common: a repeated phrase. To make things a bit easier, I've listed these quotes in the chronological order in which they were spoken...oldest to latest:

"Stuck in rut, stuck in a rut..."

"Khartoum...Khartoum."

"The Horror. The Horror."

"Bueller? Bueller?"

"Sure, sure..."

"...for a while, for a while."

Sure...like that helped! I'll give you a hint: five of these quotes come from a different movie, while one is from a television show. That and, seeing as it's April 29th, I'm giving you a few extra days to figure these out. Think you've got the answers? Then email them to me at mrviognier@aol.com. Good Luck!

While you're picking you brain, go pick out some funny at humor-blogs.com.

A (Brown) Rose by Any Other Name.

Some times it's refered to as driving The Dirt Road. Some call it The Cocoa Canal. Still others prefer The Hershey Highway. Having driven Highway 46E between I-5 and Paso Robles soooo many times, I prefer a more geographically familiar term:

But, just to clarify, that's as familiar as it's getting between you and me.

But feel free to get more familiar with humor-blogs.com. More funny, less crap.

Alien Nation.

Lately our country has been positively inundated with foreigners. Have you noticed? For example, this January as I flew through Chicago, I met a group of French men and woman who were on their way to Vail to do some skiing. "Long way to come just to ski," I remarked. "It IS," said one in their cadre, "but it's so much cheaper to fly over here, stay in a nice hotel and ski in Vail than it would be to take the train to ski in Gstaad."

Uh-huh.

Seems everywhere I fly I'm encountering Europeans that are finding the same values in our country that we associate with Tijuana. Okay, so perhaps it's not that bad. After all, in most U.S. towns you're not apt to find homes constructed out of cardboard. And seldom will you find entertainment such as "The Donkey Lady". That, and you can pretty much drink the tap water in any U.S. town if forced to do so. But I digress.

This weekend Amie and I took the boys for to Monterey. Our eldest son, Jack, was celebrating his ninth birthday (holy crap...NINE!), and he really wanted to check out the Monterey Bay Aquarium. So it was that we stayed at a very nice resort. It was located right on a beautiful golf course, within a 10-minute drive of the Aquarium, and it allowed dogs. As an aside, our Bulldog, "VIVI" became somewhat of a celebrity during the weekend, with people literally lining up to pet her. But I digress.

As today was "Aquarium Day", we spent most of yesterday around the pool. The kids had a blast. Amie and I did, too. But I couldn't help but notice that more than a few poolside loungers were wearing dark socks with shoes, and were sporting skin whiter than mine*. Fine by me. I for one am all for bilking the Eurotrash out of their last Euro. But, shortly after we settled in for a nice afternoon at the pool, this couple - pictured left - showed up.


Judging by their clothes, their complexion and their size (in a word: ZAFTIG), I guessed post-Iron Curtain in origin. Not a problem...'this pool's big enough for the both of us', I thought. It was in this spirit of bonhomie that I decided to order a margarita and chill.

But it was when Mrs. Zaftig decided that poolside was the perfect place to try to clean her toenails that I had enough.

For over ten minutes, our Little Miss (and, to be clear, she was by no means little: you could land an F-18 on her ass) dug and picked at her toenails. Now, certainly I would have liked to have looked away; unfortunately, the pool at the resort was small. At least it was when compared to her ass. But I digress.

12 minutes into it, I thought she has had enough. I certainly had had. But, apparently her fingers could find no purchase on the crap embedded in her toes. Unwilling to demur, she decided that the ideal implement with which to unearth her trash was her room key:

Of course, I could not sit idly by and watch Fraü Bigaß mine the treasure betwixt her cuticles...I had to photograph this spectacle. It's yet another example of the pains to which I will go to to provide you with senseless blog fodder to read.

But I digress.


* "How white?", you may ask? White enough to have been called 'ultra-Caucasian'. But I digress.

When you're finished picking at your bodily extremities, go check out humor-blogs.com.

Sniping.

So Wesley Snipes is going to jail. For not filing taxes for for three years, (during which time he earned $13.8 million, of which Uncle Sam reckons he's owed $2.7 mil of Snipes' take), Mr. Snipes gets to spend three years in the pokey.

Learning of his predicament has provided - at least for me - some measure of poetic justice. With the exception of 1993's Demolition Man, Snipes' big-screen efforts have been deplorable. Pity the judge didn't take White Man Can't Jump, Passenger 57, and the Blade trilogy into account when he sentenced him. That'd be a life sentence.

And if To Wong Foo Thanks for Everything Julie Newmar had been considered, Wesley's next role would feature him on a double-billing with Old Sparky. Wonder if Snipes will reprise his Wong Foo role while in The Big House?

Sadly, given the realities borne when you combine up a minimum-security prison sentence, white collar crime and a 'celebrity' inmate, I seriously doubt he'll do the whole 36 months. And, to add insult to injury, he'll probably come out of prison with a LOT of movie offers.

That's when we, the movie-going public will start doing our time.

Wonder if Wesley will get access to a computer in prison? If so, he can check out humor-blogs.com.

My Newest, Bestest Friend.

Flying home from Chicago yesterday I happened to sit next to another celebrity (check out here and here). This latest installment of "Interesting People I Fly With" was none other than Mr. T.

T was looking his typical bad ass self. He was sportin' an American flag do-rag and shades. T wisely decided to forego the bling that is his trademark. Far less hassle with those wonks who work TSA.

Now usually I would have asked if he'd mind me taking a photo, but the dude looked tired. That plus I didn't want to take the chance that he'd open a can of whoopus on me. So, all you're getting is this stock photo, and my promise that this really did happen.

In honor being in his presence I drank bloody mary mix throughout the entire flight. Spicy bloody mary mix. Mr. & Mrs. T Spicy Bloody Mary Mix. I thought it was funny, although T didn't seem to get the ironic humor of my beverage selection. I pity that fool.

And speaking of humor, please do check out humor-blogs.com.

We Have a Winner! April's THE LIST

Congratulations to Bob Liter of Cincinnati! He was the first to correctly identify ALL five quotes on this month's LIST. For his efforts, Bob wins his choice of a Garretson Wine Company t-shirt or hat. And, for those of you who had been trying to suss out the correct answers - especially YOU, John Malik of Greenville, SC - here then are all five:

"Why a duck?" Chico (Chico Marx) to Mr. Hammer (Groucho Marx) in The Cocoanuts, 1929.







"Jefe, would you say I had a plethora of piñatas?" El Guapo (Alfonso Arau) to Jefe (Tony Plana) in ¡The Three Amigos!, 1986.





"Who's up for flapjacks?" Ralph (Rick Overton*) to Phil (Bill Murray) in Groundhog Day, 1993.





"If you were a hot dog, and you were starving, would you eat yourself?" Harry Caray (as played by Will Farrell) to Colin Quinn during a "Weekend Update" sketch on Saturday Night Live, 1997.



"Da-Da? Could you tell us another Monkey King Story?" A frequent request uttered by both Jack and Thom anytime we're alone together. 'Monkey King' stories are silly (and sometimes gross) stories for boys-only.

I'll be posting a brand, spanking-new LIST on May 1st. Be the first to figure it out and win some winery wearables...and get yourself mentioned on this site!

*Rick Overton is an under-apreciated stand up comedian who - as an aside - I think does the best Mick Jagger and Keith Richards' imitations ever.

I hope that you make the funny list, and go check out humor-blogs.com!

Ass. Hole.

I've been in Chicago for the last three days...am heading home today. I love Chicago. As a matter of fact, I was born here. It's a great city...incredible food scene, sports teams, great live music, world-class museums and other cultural sites, and the people here are fantastic. In fact, if I wasn't making wine for a living, Chicago would be on my short list of places to relocate.

For a city that gets so much right, there is one thing I absolutely detest about Chicago: the toilets at the O'Hare airport. Here's a photo of your typical O'Hare commode. As you can see, the seat on the toilet is about two inches wide...and when you sit on it, it feels about a half-inch wide. You nearly fall into the bowl. And, in the spirit of ensuring a sanitary seat, they have installed these automatic ass gasket providers. This clear plastic sleeve supposedly provides a clean environment to all comers. To me all it provides is a slippery slope to an already precarious spot to place my bum.

Ah, if they'd only install your run-of-the-mill toilet seat in their airport, Chicago would be altogether perfect. Until they do, when I have to do my business, I'll hold it in until I reach either the Admiral's Club or my hotel room.

One thing I can't hold in is this: humor-blogs.com rocks.

Keepin' It Real. REALLY Real

I have to say I'm not much of a fan of what today passes for R&B. Having grown up on the likes of Otis Redding, Al Green, Sam Cooke, et al, the bar for good R&B has been set pretty high for me. But then - every once in a while - there comes along a group that changes my perceptions.

This is one such group. Enjoy!

And you can keep humor real...just log onto humor-blogs.com.

Introducing THE LIST...Figure it Out and Win Winery Swag!

A few weeks back I was thumbing through my copy of "Spy Magazine: The Funny Years". Back in the day I was a fairly avid reader of this rag...that was until Graydon Carter stepped down from its helm. In its heyday Spy was outrageously witty, and it's not a stretch to say that it's influence may be seen in many of today's best satire (The Daily Show comes to mind).

One of my favorite features in each Spy was its List. In every issue they'd have an annoyingly random list that somehow made sense...at least to the editors who created it. Now that I have my own, occasionally humorous blog, I feel it only right to keep the spirit of Spy alive.

So it gives me great pleasure to introduce THE LIST. Each month, conveniently-located on the right-hand sidebar of this page, THE LIST will contain a series of quotes. These quotes may come from great literature, famous movies or television shows, or something plucked from the stream of our collective conscious. Being a 'family guy' one of these quotes will come from the mouths of one of my kids.

It shall be your task (should you choose to accept it) to determine the source of each quote...both the name of the character who uttered it and the work it was lifted from. Compile your answers and then email them to me at mrviognier@aol.com. Each month the first person to submit the correct answers for all quotes (okay, excepting the one from my kids...I'll give you that one gratis) will win their choice of either a Garretson Wine Company t-shirt or ballcap.

We start our monthly contest with THE LIST for April. Good luck, and start sending in those emails!

And while you're scratching your furtive little brain for the answers, go check out humor-blogs.com.

"Oh, me? I'm the American Traitor Bitch."

In June of 1972 a thirty-six year old Jane Fonda took an ill-conceived trip to the Far East. Hanoi, North Vietnam to be precise. Fresh off her critically-acclaimed success in Klute (and four years after Barbarella), Fonda let her disdain for the war take center stage, and as a result she's not much welcome at VFW posts anymore.


I well remember the "Hanoi Jane" scandal when it happened, but hadn't thought about it for decades. In fact I forgot all about it until today when I was driving behind this Scion (pictured above). The driver had been festering about Jane so long that - having purchased his new SUV - he felt the need to obtain a custom license plate frame for it. It reads:

BOYCOTT JANE FONDA
AMERICAN TRAITOR BITCH

It was obvious that he'd given considerable thought to this license frame: the color of it matched that of his Scion perfectly. Now, certainly everyone's entitled, but does a 36 year-old mistake rate such a stylish license plate frame? Really? There's nothing more upsetting that's happened in the last three decades that might trump Jane Fonda's trip to Hanoi?

My first thought was, "oh, dude, get a life," but a few miles down the road, I started thinking, "What I really need is to have his life!" If that's the bee in his bonnet, the fly in his ointment, the pee in his Cherrios, then our Mr. Scion is living on easy street. Either their or at the local funny farm.

They say laughter eases stress...ease yourself over to humor-blogs.com.

Second Verse Same as the First (only a Hulluva Lot Worse)!

Yesterday afternoon Amie and I took our youngest son, Thomas, shopping for birthday presents for his brother (and our oldest son), Jack. As we perused the toy aisles, Thom and I were overcome by the large swaths of shelf space relegated to the two latest installments of Hollywood's ongoing saga, "Quick! We Need a Blockbuster for the Summer!"


The idea here is to fill the cinemas to capacity. To accomplish this (or so goes the thinking), Hollywood needs to crank out a movie which, a: kids are going to be so eager to see that they'll whine their parents into submission and take them, and/or b: tugs at the sentimental strings of the parent's childhood memories. To accomplish the former, they barrage kids with flashy previews on TV, promotional tie-ins with fast-food chains, and fill the toy stores with movie-specific gee-gaws. For the later, Hollywood producers dredge up old cartoons and kid shows of the sixties, seventies and eighties for their stories.

And so it was last night that Thom and I came face-to-face with an entire aisle of a toy store dedicated to Iron Man and Speed Racer crap.



Now, don't get me wrong. I certainly don't begrudge Hollywood the right to make a buck...especially when it comes to producing such wholesome family entertainment like The Flintstones Movie...a movie that was, after all, so damn good that they actually had the temerity to release a sequel.





Every year Hollywood goes back to the same drawing board, and spews out the same hokum. The results are almost always dismal. Despite its track record, Hollywood keeps a-forging ahead with these types of movies. What was that Einstein said about the definition of insanity? Something about doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results?



They made that movie too. It was called Pollyana.

The American movie history has a rich history of attempting to resurrect these memories of our childhood, done in the hope of creating A Brand that will allow the producers plenty of dough for a new Maybach and Botox treatments well into their dotage.



And, given the track record they have for exceeding our expectations, I have no doubt that Iron Man and Speed Racer will do extremely well...


...when it's released in China and Eastern Europe.






Movies like these must really gain something in translation.





And while you're eagerly anticipating these summer blockbusters, go bust a gut at humor-blogs.com.