Queer Eye for the Ancient Tribal Guys?

The Textile Museum in Washington D.C. is hosting a display of ancient Peruvian Huari clothing. Apparently found amongst the clothing was an ancient manuscript consisting of a lengthy interview between a tribal shaman and the designer of the clothing. Fortunately, the maintenance man at the museum speaks fluent Huari (What a stoke of luck!) and provided a translation.

Shaman: It is good that we are here in this chamber to speak the words of the things that we wear on our back and also of shoes.

(Earl's note: All right, perhaps "fluent" was an overstatement.)

Designer: It's good to see you too luv. My, you're looking absolutely scrummy in that tunic.

Shaman: Tell me then, oh flaming seamer of colorful fabrics, what is the meaning of this god-like figure with streams of light that spring forth from the wrinkles of his forehead?

Designer: Ooooh, it is a delightfully whimsical pattern, isn't it. I was thinking about kippers in the morning after a long walk in the Andes. The lines represent the triumph of clay oven cooking.

Shaman: I see you have represented the ceremony of sacrifice, with this solemn design of the baby with the blade of honor in it's neck as it is offered to the gods.

Designer: Sorry dear, that's me supplier. He's a wee bastard and nasty at that. I got tired of being overcharged and stuck a long knife in his Adam's Apple. The rays here represent the massive flatulence released when I slit him up. The smell was terrible.

Shaman: Umm, what of this one with women who play the drums of atonement?

Designer: Divas from the local temple cabaret. Lovely girls but dense as the jungle of the great river.

Shaman: What of the one with the men who happily play the pan flutes?

Designer: Zamfir, master of the pan flute. Lovely bloke, but hairy as a llama.

Shaman: The ritual fire-makers?

Designer: Barbecue luv. I like my roasted meats and vinegar sauce. They make my hair ever so shiny.

Shaman: You are the strange man who is like the peacock, only with the screeching voice of the injured owl who has ingested too much mountain snow.

Designer: You are are funny little man, aren't you. Pass me the tea and fried horned beetles will you luv? You know, you could really use a sash to go with that tunic. I wonder what I have in blood red?

Up Yours Al Queda!

London was hit today, but the city's still standing. The British stiff upper lip is still stiff, if a bit bloodied. The evil bastards who did this will pay. The ones who foolishly blew themselves up are all ready paying, in God's just hands. After being stupid enough to strap explosives to their bodies, and cruel and wicked enough to set them off in crowds of rush hour civilians, imagine their surprise at discovering that instead of a harem full of comely young maidens, their reward for their effort was the business end of a flaming pitchfork. Right now Guantanamo Bay must seem like paradise to these unfortunate, dismembered cretins.

Their masters Al Queda are the Nazis of our age, just as evil and just as stupid, only with crackpot distortions of Islam instead of the goosestepping and Charlie Chaplin mustaches. Somehow they think they can master the world when they can't even master basic television production techniques. Have you seen their videos? Osama Bin Laden, or as we like to call him at DOUI "Osucka Big Long'un", gets out of whatever veils he's wearing to disguise himself to sit in front of a camera in front of a rock somewhere in the Cave of the Day. He then mumbles in a low monotone for twenty straight minutes, only interrupting the various heresies and political vagaries to mutter murderous threats against anyone not in his coterie of serial sadists. It's like a public access program for psychopaths.

In fact the only thing al Queda seem to be good at is killing innocent people. The only thing they're better at than that is getting themselves killed, as we'll continue to see in the coming months.

What happened today was just another example of who the terrorists are, their contempt for human life, and for the laws of God and man. They will lose, but sadly, like their master the devil, they will take as many with them as possible.

As Stew mentioned, our prayers are with the victims and their families. Families have been shattered, futures destroyed, lives and bodies shattered. God bless, comfort, and keep them, and bring those responsible for their suffering to swift and decisive justice.

Some clowns scare me too.

Juan Carlos, some clowns scare me too. Let's hope these carnival freaks get their comeuppance one of these days.

Clown (In the Name of Love)

Something about clowns making the soul of this particular man, Mr. Juan Carlos Vega, go racing faster and faster until my lunch begin returning to my mouth whence it came and my eyes rolling left and right and backwards and inverting. Yes, when I see clowns, with the whitish wet drippings make-up face and deformedly huge latex-spherical crimson swollen ceramic-filled nose, I wonder why I should not run right this very moment and hide in my closet with a sharp broom handle held over my head and ready for the striking. Sometimes these clowns, they take a long unnaturally-shaped balloon and twist and ruin and harass it until it looks like the, how you going to say, skeletal Cerebrus-type dog, or they show you the big white flower and when you sniffing it, they make sewer-type water squirt out of that flower into the eye, and all the time they are laughing, chortling, giggling, guffawing and shrieking in joy at the misery they cause. Yes, Clowns. When they look at you, when they look into you and through you, you will want to sink earthward and hide beneath the shadowy stones from their horrid circus-scented peanut-sprinkled graspy-gloved carnival hands.

However....*sigh*...there is one redeeming clown. Yes, one clown who came not to, how you going to say, scream and terrify children and skulk in the darkest corners of the county fair ruining and grinding balloons into Cerebrus shapes. No, no, ladies and mans, this one clown came with a gentle whisper of the kindest goodness floating about his wispy white hairs and a twinkle of merry yuletide delight swimming in his leather satchel of entertainment. He is Bill Irwin, and if you ever see him, you will feel anew the sunshine of hope for the circus and all the fairy floss you ever wanted to see. This is why I, Juan Carlos Vega, must sigh and sigh again.

Very unfunny business today.

Our prayers go out to those in London and especially to those who lost loved ones. May God bless you all.

Churchill in 1941: "We shall not fail or falter; we shall not weaken or tire. Neither the sudden shock of battle nor the long-drawn trials of vigilance and exertion will wear us down. Give us the tools and we will finish the job."

Wishing upon a star? Wanna buy a comet?

An astrologer from Russia is suing NASA for the damage done to her horoscope by the Deep Impact spacecraft. Seems she is worried that the eggheads at NASA have deformed her horoscope and that it “ruins the natural balance of forces in the universe.” While I think this astrologer lady from Moscow is a nut, I too have a beef with this little foray into comet smashing. It turns out comet Tempel 1 was actually MY STAR “Stew Miller” that I had purchased from the International Star Registry not five months ago. I don’t really blame NASA, but it would seem when someone buys a star they should get a star and not a comet. Hence, I have written a letter to the charlatans at the International Star Registry to show my disappointment.

Dear ISR,

Shame, Shame, and again I say Shame. I am not going to be sheepish when I tell you the wool has been pulled over my eyes. Five months ago I purchased for $54 plus postage and handling a star that I named for myself “Stew Miller”. When I talked to Kenny, who I will admit was a nice gentleman and who mentioned numerous times the payment options available, I was told that for the fee I could name a star after whomever I wished. Little did I know that I was being sold a bill of goods, not to mention a comet which already had a name to boot. Now, much to my chagrin, my “star” has been plowed into by NASA and is hardly worth the $54 plus postage and handling. I consider this a celestial slap in the face and demand either a refund of my money or perhaps a real star to put my moniker on. Is Betelgeuse available? I think as retribution I should be assured of having one of the larger stars to name.

I will await your answer and have copied this letter to the Better Business Bureau and Astrology Magazine.

Yours truly (if I get my star),

Stew Miller

P.S. I sure hope Betelgeuse is available.

Peter Jackson Goes Ape

New Zealander Peter Jackson is in post production on his first post-Lord of the Rings film and the star of this film has even bigger and hairier feet than Frodo Baggins (or Peter Jackson for that matter). King Kong is due in cinemas later this year. I was lucky enough to sit down with the star and chat about the film, the history of Kong films, and the women of Kong.

Earl Fando: It's good to have the chance to chat with you Mr. Kong. Do you mind if I call you King?

King Kong: Actually my name is Frank.

EF: Frank? I thought you were named King Kong.

KK (Frank): Nah. It's like the Lassie movies. The first dog was named Lassie and lasted a couple of films, and then bit the big chewy bone. It's been all replacements since. It's all guys now as well. Bob, Eddie, Sam, Tim...Dogs in drag. At least I get to play the role straight.

EF: So, there was an original Kong?

KK: Yeah, well sort of. The first ape in the role was named Sid Kong. His nickname was King and, well, I don't have to spell it out for you.

EF: I always wondered how they came up with the title.

KK: Those creeps Merian Cooper and Edgar Wallace took all the credit. Cooper said that the title was the name of one of his old girlfriends. Ol' Mr. Kong was the source though.
Sid even came up with the closing line during a pre-shoot rehearsal.

EF: You mean...

KK: (Dramatically) "Twas beauty killed the beast!" Even Sid thought it was hammy, but the critics acted like Shakespeare had flown down from heaven to do the script. Sid might have gotten some credit if not for the accident.

EF: Accident?

KK: You know what I'm talking about! He fell off the frickin' building.

EF: Ah, so the plane attack was real.

KK: No. Unfortunately, he just had a cramp. All that climbing, and no stunt apes. They wrote in the planes later. In the original script he was supposed to have died in a motorbike accident. Sad to say that fall was one of the only shots they used of Sid in the whole picture...that and the close-ups.

EF: That explains why Willis O'Brien was brought in to do the stop-motion work.

KK: Yeah. Plus, where are you gonna find another 40 foot-tall gorilla?

EF: True. That does beg my next question. You're kind of...well, normal-sized.

KK: Sid was a unique individual. Yeah, it's all special effects now. All the Kongs have been normal-sized since then. Andy, the guy who played Son of Kong; Dave, the guy who did Mighty Joe Young...

EF: Dave was Joe?

KK: I can't blame them. Mighty Dave Young? I don't see it.

EF: You were saying?

KK: ...and Steve, the guy who was in King Kong vs. Godzilla.

EF: What about the 1970's Kong?

KK: That was Rick Baker in an ape suit, man. Donald Trump could have spotted that one through his thick do.

EF: Grape Ape?

KK: You're pushing your luck, pal. Remember, I may be erudite and charming, but I'm still a gorilla.

EF: So, how was the production?

KK: It was OK. The catering was good... a lot of fresh fruit and berries. Of course, I had lobster every day.

EF: What about the film?

KK: I liked the rushes, although I hate to watch myself work. Quite frankly, I think I have a funny looking nose. Still, Pete got a really good performance out of me...very manic, yet controlled. I will say those green screens freaked me out at first, but of course, I'm used to the stage.

EF: You started in the theatre?

KK: Don't sound so surprised. I'm pretty versatile for a Silverback. I've done Ibsen, Chekov, and even Beckett.

EF: Waiting for Godot?

KK: Of course.

EF: One last question. How does Naomi Watts compare to Fay Wray?

KK: Naomi was great. She's not the screamer Wray was, but she makes up for it in other ways, if you know what I mean.

EF: Really?

KK: Hey, I may be a gorilla, but I'm not blind. It's only too bad that all our scenes together were special effects shots. Like all Kongs, I dig the blondes, man.

Happy 4th of July!

Just in case you were wondering, we're enjoying the holiday here in the US with family, friends, and a few of our favorite celebrities (Keep your firecrackers off the potato salad, Affleck.)

We'll be back and right as rain tomorrow! Enjoy the Fourth and live free, wherever you are!

-Earl, Stew, Juan C., Zimpter, and Chico y Jose (missing, presumed parenting)