What word can be written forward,
backward or upside down, and can
still be read from left to right?
here's a hint: it begins with "N" and ends with "oon"
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
this is AM
This morning I went running, but I hadn't fully awakened yet so I couldn't really see out of my left eye, which is why when one of my neighbors backed out in a bright yellow SUV that was brighter than anything, I ran straight into the corner of it. In slow motion I spun around and in a deep voice a long drawn out "noooooooooooooooooooooo" spun around me, as I spun inside, like the earth inside the moon, and i came to a clumsy fall on both hands, rolled onto my right shoulder, somersaulted back around and up to my feet, and as I was finding my footing I looked over with my right eye and saw Mary-Anne, that cute ginger down the way that I was saving up my courage for, I saw her coming out twirling keys around one finger looking down at the items she was carrying, and she looked up just as I was staggering back to balance, and I spat down through gritted teeth "feet don't fail me now", and I kept on, left foot, right foot, arm forward, arm forward, left foot, right foot, and I had it again, it's just running it's not very hard, and I smiled and waved and she stood there staring, and said,
"oh my god, you're bleeding!"
She was looking at my forehead, so I reached up and touched it, and it was blood mixed with oil and dirt, and in the brilliance of thought that always comes when I'm dizzy, in pain, exhausted, hungry, and horny (it happens more often than you'd know), I blurted out "I always sweat blood when I'm on my third FOURTH! mile of running, as I obviously am now", and she just stared looking a little bit confused, and back a few houses the bright yellow SUV was stopped and a curly gray-haired professor was watching me run away, and she hollered over to Mary-Anne, "is he OK?", and Mary-Anne sort of shrugged, and they both watched me jog off.
I reached the end of the street with every step increasing the intensity of the pulsating pain coming from my right temple, and instead of turning right and going for my usual 3 block path I decided to turn around, thinking the whole time about smarter things I could have said to that lovely ginger that's lived so long down Gilligan ave with her old orange Saab plastered with bumper stickers of bands that I would happily paste all over my purple Hyundai. It was a long block so both yellow suv and orange saab had plenty of time to pull out and start their days, and so I plodded along, feeling my heart beat and the pain continue to increase, rubbing my left eye to get the blurryness away, and as I reached Mary-Anne's house I realized that honesty would have probably been better, who would want to date some loser douche-bag that won't even admit to falling down during a morning jog anyway? Which is the last thought that went through my mind before I ran full on into the side of Mary-Anne's orange saab and howled out in pain, and I fell backward onto the pavement and heard her emergency brake crank, and she came running out and said "Skip! are you okay?"
My head was aching in the front, pulsating on the right, my right shoulder felt dislocated and I still couldn't see out of my left eye, so I did the most sensible thing I could imagine: i turned my head away from her voice and vomited. Then I put my head back down and looked up with my right eye through the branches of a green tree at the blue sky above, and I said "I'm sorry I hurt myself on your car."
She laughed, and I swear her laughter moved the leaves above and brightened the sky, but it turns out it was just my concussion. When I regained consciousness I was on her lawn and she was putting a wet rag on my forehead. Her orange saab was running, with it's little "See The City!" sign plastered on the side, and she said "listen, I have to go pick up these tourists and give them a 3 hour tour, but when I come back I'll check on you. Can you walk home?"
i nodded, which hurt more than anything, and then I climbed to my feet and started to walk home. when I checked the time on my cell phone it was only a few minutes later than when I ran into her car, but it felt like hours had passed. She drove alongside me with her window down and handed me a piece of paper. "This is my phone number, if you need anything let me know." I said thank you and waved goodbye. I smiled, which hurt almost as much as when I nodded. I did need something, I thought. Her good loving. I smiled again. Then I stumbled to the gutter and threw up.
"oh my god, you're bleeding!"
She was looking at my forehead, so I reached up and touched it, and it was blood mixed with oil and dirt, and in the brilliance of thought that always comes when I'm dizzy, in pain, exhausted, hungry, and horny (it happens more often than you'd know), I blurted out "I always sweat blood when I'm on my third FOURTH! mile of running, as I obviously am now", and she just stared looking a little bit confused, and back a few houses the bright yellow SUV was stopped and a curly gray-haired professor was watching me run away, and she hollered over to Mary-Anne, "is he OK?", and Mary-Anne sort of shrugged, and they both watched me jog off.
I reached the end of the street with every step increasing the intensity of the pulsating pain coming from my right temple, and instead of turning right and going for my usual 3 block path I decided to turn around, thinking the whole time about smarter things I could have said to that lovely ginger that's lived so long down Gilligan ave with her old orange Saab plastered with bumper stickers of bands that I would happily paste all over my purple Hyundai. It was a long block so both yellow suv and orange saab had plenty of time to pull out and start their days, and so I plodded along, feeling my heart beat and the pain continue to increase, rubbing my left eye to get the blurryness away, and as I reached Mary-Anne's house I realized that honesty would have probably been better, who would want to date some loser douche-bag that won't even admit to falling down during a morning jog anyway? Which is the last thought that went through my mind before I ran full on into the side of Mary-Anne's orange saab and howled out in pain, and I fell backward onto the pavement and heard her emergency brake crank, and she came running out and said "Skip! are you okay?"
My head was aching in the front, pulsating on the right, my right shoulder felt dislocated and I still couldn't see out of my left eye, so I did the most sensible thing I could imagine: i turned my head away from her voice and vomited. Then I put my head back down and looked up with my right eye through the branches of a green tree at the blue sky above, and I said "I'm sorry I hurt myself on your car."
She laughed, and I swear her laughter moved the leaves above and brightened the sky, but it turns out it was just my concussion. When I regained consciousness I was on her lawn and she was putting a wet rag on my forehead. Her orange saab was running, with it's little "See The City!" sign plastered on the side, and she said "listen, I have to go pick up these tourists and give them a 3 hour tour, but when I come back I'll check on you. Can you walk home?"
i nodded, which hurt more than anything, and then I climbed to my feet and started to walk home. when I checked the time on my cell phone it was only a few minutes later than when I ran into her car, but it felt like hours had passed. She drove alongside me with her window down and handed me a piece of paper. "This is my phone number, if you need anything let me know." I said thank you and waved goodbye. I smiled, which hurt almost as much as when I nodded. I did need something, I thought. Her good loving. I smiled again. Then I stumbled to the gutter and threw up.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Is coca-cola making america fat?
In an effort to make myself seem smart while simultaneously turning myself famous, I decided to perform a simple experiment using myself as the guinea pig. The question: Is coca-cola making america fat? The answer: YES.
Hi, my name is Clancy Robinson, and my goal with this blog is to show you, america, that something you hold close and dear to your hearts is actually damaging your health, costing orphans their soup, pissing asparagus green in the gutters of urban landscapes, and making everybody's lunch more delicious. My goal is also to be hated by extremist republicans and loved by everyone else, until eventually I'm hated by everyone except for a few radical armpit hair lesbians at Santa Cruz and Berkeley. This is my goal.
The first thing I did to find out what the health effects of coca-cola is on a human being is to confront congress with a megaphone shouting out various things like "why are you not revealing the secrets of coke experiment zero you jerks!! What are you hiding from?" Then I knocked on Clint Eastwood's front door and offered him a coke, which he declined, and then I went for my megaphone, which unfortunately I'd left in the car, so I put my foot in the door as he slammed it, which hurt immensely, and I said "why don't you want a sip of america's favorite cola?", to which he replied "because you're not wearing any clothes", which was a semi-valid point, keyword here "SEMI" repeat after me, "SEMI-valid", america, let's move on.
In preparation for my experiment, I cancelled my water and power, bought a stock of candles and lard, and put my exercise equipment into the rust-o-tron 3000. Then I hired a camera crew to film me doing everyday things like plunging my head into a 5-gallon bucket full of coke, doing coke-bongs, eating lard with my bear hands, and vomiting for hours. By the time the experiment was set to begin I was a sicky, yellow, smelly human being with a full crew of cameramen that never went anywhere without their trusty barf bags. We were practically family.
Day 1: 100 pounds.
The vomiting from the lard had caused me to lose an immense amount of body weight. But over time my body had grown accustomed to the lard, so I was quickly climbing back up. 2 days previously I was at 89 pounds, so I had gained 11 pounds just from lard and COCA-COLA.
Day2: 138 pounds.
I was almost back up to my average body weight. Harold from the camera crew posted a video of me singing "I will Survive" on youtube. So far, 17 views, but I'm sure this number will rise exponentially very soon. Is "bigger than Oprah" a valid value, science?
Day 3: 176 pounds.
I have been in and out of consciousness all day today. Earlier one of the camera crew asked me if I wanted an ambulance and I think I said no. I meant to say yes. I lost consciousness before I had a chance to correct myself. When I woke up a few minutes ago i noticed that the camera crew had left. There was a note that said "if you are not dead, please send payment here." They were a sweet bunch, practically family. Where is my TV?
Day 7: 97 pounds.
The doctors say I have finally stabilized. Apparently, a diet of pure lard and COCA-COLA is not
healthy, they say. I sent payment to the camera crew and they'll be releasing the videos soon, so look for it in your local indie theaters. I'll be there to introduce them in Santa Cruz and Berkeley, so ladies leave your boyfriends at home.
-Clancy
Hi, my name is Clancy Robinson, and my goal with this blog is to show you, america, that something you hold close and dear to your hearts is actually damaging your health, costing orphans their soup, pissing asparagus green in the gutters of urban landscapes, and making everybody's lunch more delicious. My goal is also to be hated by extremist republicans and loved by everyone else, until eventually I'm hated by everyone except for a few radical armpit hair lesbians at Santa Cruz and Berkeley. This is my goal.
The first thing I did to find out what the health effects of coca-cola is on a human being is to confront congress with a megaphone shouting out various things like "why are you not revealing the secrets of coke experiment zero you jerks!! What are you hiding from?" Then I knocked on Clint Eastwood's front door and offered him a coke, which he declined, and then I went for my megaphone, which unfortunately I'd left in the car, so I put my foot in the door as he slammed it, which hurt immensely, and I said "why don't you want a sip of america's favorite cola?", to which he replied "because you're not wearing any clothes", which was a semi-valid point, keyword here "SEMI" repeat after me, "SEMI-valid", america, let's move on.
In preparation for my experiment, I cancelled my water and power, bought a stock of candles and lard, and put my exercise equipment into the rust-o-tron 3000. Then I hired a camera crew to film me doing everyday things like plunging my head into a 5-gallon bucket full of coke, doing coke-bongs, eating lard with my bear hands, and vomiting for hours. By the time the experiment was set to begin I was a sicky, yellow, smelly human being with a full crew of cameramen that never went anywhere without their trusty barf bags. We were practically family.
Day 1: 100 pounds.
The vomiting from the lard had caused me to lose an immense amount of body weight. But over time my body had grown accustomed to the lard, so I was quickly climbing back up. 2 days previously I was at 89 pounds, so I had gained 11 pounds just from lard and COCA-COLA.
Day2: 138 pounds.
I was almost back up to my average body weight. Harold from the camera crew posted a video of me singing "I will Survive" on youtube. So far, 17 views, but I'm sure this number will rise exponentially very soon. Is "bigger than Oprah" a valid value, science?
Day 3: 176 pounds.
I have been in and out of consciousness all day today. Earlier one of the camera crew asked me if I wanted an ambulance and I think I said no. I meant to say yes. I lost consciousness before I had a chance to correct myself. When I woke up a few minutes ago i noticed that the camera crew had left. There was a note that said "if you are not dead, please send payment here." They were a sweet bunch, practically family. Where is my TV?
Day 7: 97 pounds.
The doctors say I have finally stabilized. Apparently, a diet of pure lard and COCA-COLA is not
healthy, they say. I sent payment to the camera crew and they'll be releasing the videos soon, so look for it in your local indie theaters. I'll be there to introduce them in Santa Cruz and Berkeley, so ladies leave your boyfriends at home.
-Clancy
March Sadness
Every year around this time, all the men in the world gather around their televisions, radios and arenas to watch the spectacle known as "March Madness".
But what they don't know is that every woman in their lives call this same time of year "March Sadness".
Whether they're making plans to make more babies. Planning one of their famous last week and a half of March-vacations or just totally PMSing, these ladies are left at home to cry. All of them.
Sure, they have the full and loving attention of their male counterparts the rest of the year, but that doesn't matter.
I often walk by the women's restroom at my local place of employment and hear the weeping.
Mascara everywhere. The jarring horn-like sound of noses being blown. Red eyes for days.
It's all there, fellas.
So, while you're enjoying your favorite time of the year, take a second to think about your wife. Or your daughter. Or your mother. Or your friend's wife. Or your future daughters.
And when you get home, be sure to pick a daisy from the neighbor's garden, dust off the soil and hand it to your wife as she tries to make you out from behind her swollen and blurry eyes.
Then get right back to drinking an ice cold Bud Light.
And tell her she can take a swig if she's down for it.
Monday, March 10, 2008
new theories fresh out of the farmer's alamac's bible
theory 1:
Mary Christ wasn't very attractive in high school, none of the boys would have anything to do with her, so the nickname "Virgin Mary" was stamped, stuck, and the saddest part is she found a husband, grew out of her acne scars, filled out properly, yet the nickname never went away. And when she squeezed out Jesus, the nickname didn't bug her any more, she found it sort of funny that she could go her whole life with this nickname, but she had no idea how sort of funny it could actually be. Because, you see, when she gave birth to Jesus, she was giving birth to the son of god. And the people who could write, which wasn't very many because she lived in a 3rd world country, they were way into this birth, and they wrote all about it, put it in a book called the bible, New York Times gave it raving reviews, and her nickname was immortalized. Even now, 2000 years later, people still call her the virgin mary. Fuck Jesus' return, imagine HER return when she's like, "oh hi, i'm Mary Christ", and these fuckers are like "oh holy Jesus, it's the Virgin Mary!" and then she's like, "God Christ damnit! We were all virgins once! I'll fuck you right now. Come on, let's go. i'll show you who the virgin is!!"
This is based on a true story from the future.
theory 2:
When Joseph Christ came to town and met Mary for the first time he was truly in love. Her shirt hung a bit low, you could see the glistening sweat on her cleavage, she had this really cute sweet smile, and she had a Pavement patch on her dress. So he asked the nearest guy about her, asked if she was the marrying type, who her parents were, what the story was basically. The guy said she was looking for a man to marry, her parents were poor but nice, she was a great cook, some other shit. Joseph asked if she was a virgin. The man laughed. Then he saw that this Joseph guy was serious, so he took a serious expression and said sarcastically, "yeah, she's a virgin, the virgin mary is what we call her. All of our unmarried women are virgins. In fact, i'm sure that is true for the entire flat piece of flatness that we call the world. Yes, the flat world is full of unmarried virgins."
Joseph didn't realized that the guy was being sarcastic, had no idea even that the world wasn't flat. Actually, most people thought it was flat, though it was weird that the stars and sun and moon all moved the same way every day, like they reached some point then hit reset. But regardless, Joseph took the guys words literally, and he went up to Mary and said he'd like to Mary her. But Mary thought the guy was square, smiled politely, told him she wasn't interested, went back to her work. Joseph took a room nearby and tried to think of some way to convince her to marry him. He started writing a book called The Bible.
Meanwhile, God Almighty in the sky was on an Earth -0001 tour, and when he came to Mary's town she put on her sluttiest outfit and screamed the whole show, then went backstage and fucked the shit out of him afterwards. She woke up 3 days later from all the drugs and fucking and realized she was pregnant. She didn't know what to tell her parents. So she wandered, and as she wandered she saw Joseph Christ behind an open door talking to himself as he wrote in his Bible. She thought it was actually kind of cute and endearing, and in her current situation it was exactly what she needed. So she went inside and accepted his previous offer, and let him call her virgin mary in his silly book, and they married, and when people found out that the son of god's stepdad wrote this book about it they went crazy and everybody bought like 1000 copies and the world tore itself a new one with happiness, and mary's sarcastic nickname became immortalized like Michael Jackson.
Mary Christ wasn't very attractive in high school, none of the boys would have anything to do with her, so the nickname "Virgin Mary" was stamped, stuck, and the saddest part is she found a husband, grew out of her acne scars, filled out properly, yet the nickname never went away. And when she squeezed out Jesus, the nickname didn't bug her any more, she found it sort of funny that she could go her whole life with this nickname, but she had no idea how sort of funny it could actually be. Because, you see, when she gave birth to Jesus, she was giving birth to the son of god. And the people who could write, which wasn't very many because she lived in a 3rd world country, they were way into this birth, and they wrote all about it, put it in a book called the bible, New York Times gave it raving reviews, and her nickname was immortalized. Even now, 2000 years later, people still call her the virgin mary. Fuck Jesus' return, imagine HER return when she's like, "oh hi, i'm Mary Christ", and these fuckers are like "oh holy Jesus, it's the Virgin Mary!" and then she's like, "God Christ damnit! We were all virgins once! I'll fuck you right now. Come on, let's go. i'll show you who the virgin is!!"
This is based on a true story from the future.
theory 2:
When Joseph Christ came to town and met Mary for the first time he was truly in love. Her shirt hung a bit low, you could see the glistening sweat on her cleavage, she had this really cute sweet smile, and she had a Pavement patch on her dress. So he asked the nearest guy about her, asked if she was the marrying type, who her parents were, what the story was basically. The guy said she was looking for a man to marry, her parents were poor but nice, she was a great cook, some other shit. Joseph asked if she was a virgin. The man laughed. Then he saw that this Joseph guy was serious, so he took a serious expression and said sarcastically, "yeah, she's a virgin, the virgin mary is what we call her. All of our unmarried women are virgins. In fact, i'm sure that is true for the entire flat piece of flatness that we call the world. Yes, the flat world is full of unmarried virgins."
Joseph didn't realized that the guy was being sarcastic, had no idea even that the world wasn't flat. Actually, most people thought it was flat, though it was weird that the stars and sun and moon all moved the same way every day, like they reached some point then hit reset. But regardless, Joseph took the guys words literally, and he went up to Mary and said he'd like to Mary her. But Mary thought the guy was square, smiled politely, told him she wasn't interested, went back to her work. Joseph took a room nearby and tried to think of some way to convince her to marry him. He started writing a book called The Bible.
Meanwhile, God Almighty in the sky was on an Earth -0001 tour, and when he came to Mary's town she put on her sluttiest outfit and screamed the whole show, then went backstage and fucked the shit out of him afterwards. She woke up 3 days later from all the drugs and fucking and realized she was pregnant. She didn't know what to tell her parents. So she wandered, and as she wandered she saw Joseph Christ behind an open door talking to himself as he wrote in his Bible. She thought it was actually kind of cute and endearing, and in her current situation it was exactly what she needed. So she went inside and accepted his previous offer, and let him call her virgin mary in his silly book, and they married, and when people found out that the son of god's stepdad wrote this book about it they went crazy and everybody bought like 1000 copies and the world tore itself a new one with happiness, and mary's sarcastic nickname became immortalized like Michael Jackson.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
pennies
pennies are pretty worthless, until you have so many of them that your swimming pool is overflowing with pennies, and you're dragging buckets of them to the nearest coinstar machine then spending the money they give you on hot dogs and Archie comics. And you can do this every day, and that's all you have to do, because you know why? You have so many pennies that you never have to work again.
what do you think about that?
this is dedicated to all the penny haters out there.
what do you think about that?
this is dedicated to all the penny haters out there.
in passing...
Ken: Man, if I won sixty thousand dollars, I would buy a mansion.
Mike: Yeah...
narrator: The year is 2006. These kids have no concept of money.
Mike: I would buy a jet!
Ken: I would buy 11 candy bars and eat them one day each week! I would save the candy bars, not eat too much each day. I want my money to last me!
Mike: I would buy 2 bicycles!
narrator: These kids think that 11 candy bars are just as valuable as a mansion.
Mike: Yeah...
narrator: The year is 2006. These kids have no concept of money.
Mike: I would buy a jet!
Ken: I would buy 11 candy bars and eat them one day each week! I would save the candy bars, not eat too much each day. I want my money to last me!
Mike: I would buy 2 bicycles!
narrator: These kids think that 11 candy bars are just as valuable as a mansion.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Riddle Times 2
Man walks over a bridge,
Man walks under a bridge.
In time of war he burns a bridge.
What is it?
Man walks under a bridge.
In time of war he burns a bridge.
What is it?
Monday, March 3, 2008
can I get a...
Jason and Jimi think they're so cool because they're so tall, and their names both start with J. Well fine, you go and have your secret "tall and j club" meetings while I sit at home with a rainbow feeling like a leprechaun. kind of like this:
By the way, this is what Rock Band looks like when you set the difficulty to "sucks":
In other news, my trip up to mammoth was a success, meaning that I didn't break my neck snowboarding or anything (here's my secret: I went inner tubing instead). I spent most of the time doing a puzzle, or sitting in the hot tub, or doing a puzzle in the hot tub (which ruined the puzzle, so I came home).
I guess blogs like this should be written in a diary tucked under your mattress. It's like that guy in the elevator that tries to tell you about the sandwich he made for himself during lunch. It's exciting for him, but you could really care less. Couldn't care less. Please move on to a more interesting entry below.
By the way, this is what Rock Band looks like when you set the difficulty to "sucks":
In other news, my trip up to mammoth was a success, meaning that I didn't break my neck snowboarding or anything (here's my secret: I went inner tubing instead). I spent most of the time doing a puzzle, or sitting in the hot tub, or doing a puzzle in the hot tub (which ruined the puzzle, so I came home).
I guess blogs like this should be written in a diary tucked under your mattress. It's like that guy in the elevator that tries to tell you about the sandwich he made for himself during lunch. It's exciting for him, but you could really care less. Couldn't care less. Please move on to a more interesting entry below.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Napkin Pants
I had idea strike me this afternoon while out at the local eatery. Whilst downing a double cheeseburger my eyes caught my Son wiping his hands on his pants as he was wrist deep in ketchup. A parent gets exhausted of asking their child to stop wiping his/her hands on his/her pants. As I was rearing back with my hand at full thrust I brought it forward and snatched up a napkin to hand it to him and once again say for what I believe has to be the 26,453rd time, "WIPE YOUR HANDS ON A NAPKIN!"...but then like Einstein came up with the invention of nuclear power and the atomic bomb. I also discovered the most amazing idea, NAPKIN PANTS.
That's right for boys and girls ages 4 to 24, Napkin Pants can be used for those sloppy joe nights, restaurant night, pizza night and Passover. What better joy for child and parent then a pair of pants made entirely out of napkin. The school yards, the playgrounds, and the malls would be full of this hip new raiment I call Napkin Pants. Sadly I have no will power to continue on with this idea or this article.
That's right for boys and girls ages 4 to 24, Napkin Pants can be used for those sloppy joe nights, restaurant night, pizza night and Passover. What better joy for child and parent then a pair of pants made entirely out of napkin. The school yards, the playgrounds, and the malls would be full of this hip new raiment I call Napkin Pants. Sadly I have no will power to continue on with this idea or this article.
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