If you're not Donald Trump, check out our archives below. If you are Donald Trump, fix your hair before you do that. Please.

Friday, December 16, 2005

If Historical Figures Blogged

I was looking at Bloggers "Blogs of Note", also known to those of us here at DOUI as "That List We'll Never Bloody Be On." The most current entry is called "My Life on a Plate." (There'll be a link when we make the list.) I suddenly realized that someone has probably seen that, and done an appalling satirical blog about Mary, Queen of Scots, or John the Baptist, called "My Head on a Plate."

Well, that's not our style here. Robespierre's blog, maybe...but not John the Baptist.

This did get me to thinking what the Internet would be like if famous figures from history had their own blogs. What would they call them? What would they post about? Would they link us? Would many of them have coronaries after coming across the David Hasselhoff Incursion?

Here is one bloke's view.

***********

Et Me Brute?

The Personal Blog of Brutus, Friend to Caesar, and Senator of Rome.

Ceasar is down for the count!!!

Well, we did it. Cassius and I caught Caesar coming out of the Senate and stuck him in the gut with a shiv. I'm still shaking from the experience. He actually wept and called my name as he fell to the ground. Cassius was jazzed, but I felt really weird. We were friends, you know. We were distant cousins! Oh, well...Alea iacta est! I'm off to get pizza!!

posted by Marcus Junius Brutus - March 15, 44 BC - 2:03 p.m.

Oops!!!

Man, Antony is p******!!! I'm outta here! Cassius, dude, you are on your own!!!!

posted by Marcus Junius Brutus - March 19, 44 BC - 8:09 p.m.

**********

Over the Edge

A seafaring blog by Christoforo Colombo (AKA Christobal Colon, AKA Christopher Columbus, AKA Meatball)

A great day for sailing!!!

We set of for India this evening. The skies were clear and there were many people on the dock to see us off. I fancied this blonde tart who kept waving her handkerchief at me and batting her eyes like a maiden on her wedding eve. One of the cabin boys, a lad named Peter, said she was his sister and her name was Marcia. Marcia! Marcia! Marcia!!! She's hotter than a pepper stuffed cannelloni. I hope she's still on the prowl when I return. Still, we'll be back in a few weeks, so I shouldn't worry too much.

posted by C. Columbo - August 3, 1492 - 10:04 p.m.


I Am Not A Calzone...

...but my crew is looking at me like I was one. All except for Rodolfo, who is looking at me like I was a hot stablegirl in breeches. I always sit with my back to the wall when he's in the room. This is turning into a really long trip. I knew I should have taken a left turn at the Azores, like Bartholomew Diaz.

Someone said they ate the navigator on the Pinta. I think they were joking. We still have plenty of paella on board.

posted by C. Columbo - September 25, 1492 - 8:04 a.m.


At Long Last!!...

...Women! These primitive lands are crawling with them. I had no idea that Indian women were so scantily clad! No one seems to know the way to New Delhi though.

Marcia who??? ;)

posted by C. Columbo - October 8, 1492 - 4:53 p.m.

**********

We Are Not Amused

The Most Royal Blog of Her Majesty Victoria, Queen of the United Kingdom and Ireland, Empress of India, Viscountess of Weston-Super-Mare

Not Amused - #245

Albert's tobacco cannister. He keeps calling it Prince Albert in a Can. What a stupid joke.
-We are not amused.

posted by HM Victoria, Queen of the United Kingdom, etc. etc. - January 12, 1849, 1:00 p.m.


Not Amused - #869

Royal gowns that make my hips look big. Unfortunately, Gladstone won't let me send any of those seamstresses to the block, the self-righteous git. If Albert were alive, he'd sock that ruddy ninny in the gob.
-We are not amused.

posted by HM Victoria, Queen of the United Kingdom, etc. etc. - January 12, 1881, 9:20 p.m.


Not Amused - #4,629

More Diamond Jubilee celebrations. I'm bored out of my bean, sitting here watching these overdressed simpletons prance about, genuflecting and offering mealy-mouthed words of congratulations that I've lived for so bleedin' long. Yes, it was so difficult. Aside from dodging the occasional bullet, it was ridiculously easy. Eat right and a pint of stout a day from Ye Olde Cheddar Cheese.

I wish I had a revolver. I'd show these morons a thing or two. Maybe I'll run over the ambassador of Holland with my wheelchair...
-We are not bloody amused.

posted by HM Victoria, Queen of the United Kingdom, etc. etc. - June 25, 1897, 9:40 a.m.

#$@&*^%!!!!!

Sorry, I couldn't think of another suitable title for Stew's piece about Howard Stern and controversial content.

Just think of how far radio has come though. Howard Stern's current ouevre is the modern day equivalent of a radio disc jockey playing on-air Chuck Berry's song "My Ding-a-ling".

Sirius &^%#*% radio!!!!!!!

Let it ring from the rooftops, Howard Stern is leaving public radio and heading into the ether that is satellite radio. One word quickly comes to mind, HALLELUJAH!!!!! (A heavenly choir bursts into shouts of joy, doves are released, old people smile at each other, and carne asada steak is handed out for free.) Back in the real world however, morons who shell out $13 bucks a month for radio will have the opportunity to have their eardrums split by the profane talk-show pornographer himself. Another phrase comes to mind - Who gives a %$#&?

When Earl, Carlos, and I set out to bring all twelve of you this wonderful comedy blog, we did it with the understanding that we would not resort to "blue" humor and now, Smurf's aside, we have done just that. Oh, we might pull out the occasional word or two that would burn grandmother's ears or we may write things that could be suggestive (see Earl's posts below) but the humor doesn't rely on anything risque or profane. Well bleep that! If that's what the proletariat wants then that is what they shall get. I don't give a flying bleep what the censors at Blogger may do to me I'm bleeping letting it rip. These bleeps at the Howard Stern show wouldn't know proper comedy if it bleeped their bleeping bleeps.

Now, I will have to let you know that I am in fact thinking and writing b-l-e-e-p at this point because this whole irreverant blogging thing is new to me. I mean I can turn a phrase or write a scathing satire of Tom Cruise with the best of them but stringing profanity together is not one of my strong suits, yet. However, I have been watching some old videotaped copies of the Def Comedy Jam so I should be up to bleeping snuff soon. We're not going to stop there, oh no sirree dee dee, why we'll probably have so many scantily dressed women roaming around it'll make the Victoria's Secret Fashion show look like The View. I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to bleeping take it anymore! Viva la Revolution!!!!!!!!! or Bleepa la Revolution!!!!!!!!

Update: Sorry, I just talked to Earl, we can't do any of that stuff. I tried.

Thursday, December 15, 2005

Speaking of sex...

...I chose that title to see just how many people's head would whip around to the article, once they saw it. My apologies for the whiplash.

I'm actually wanting to comment on what has to be the raunchiest commercial I've seen this year, apart from the male enhancement commericals featuring the slack-jawed smiling baboon, euphemistiacally named "Bob." (I'm sure it's a euphemism. I think it's Welsh.)

You know the Bob commericials. Bob smiles like a really happy zombie, dives into the pool, and comes out with his trunks still floating in the water. As Bob continues to smile, the women at poolside stare in his direction as though an anaconda had followed him out of the pool. The men stare as though they were at a showing of Brokeback Mountain, after having been assured it was nothing more than a remake of High Noon. The television audience prays that Bob will be killed from smiling so intensely.

This commercial is worse. I can't even remember the name of the company, so appallingly tasteless was the spot. It's a cell phone company, I think know that much.

The ad consists of a courtesan, or as they colorfully call them in the part of the U.S. where I live, a "hooker" (U.K. residents can have lots of fun with their rugby playing mates with that one.) Anyway, this scantily-clad trollop is on a large bed, near the edge, straddling the prostate body of a fully clothed man whom she identifies as "Senator." The "Senator" appears to have dropped dead from a heart attack, presumably as he looks to be in his 70's and he has a 20's something streetwalker wrapped around him like white chocolate around a large, grey Reese's Peanut Butter Cup.

The "lady of the evening" realizes that this aged and possibly senile politician, is in fact in the process of snuffing it, and so she does the only logical thing a prostitute can do whilst straddling a 70 year old senator in a motel bedroom, whilst wearing nothing but a bra, knickers, and garters: She pounds on his chest and begins to bounce up and down on him.

The slogan is something like "Don't die before these phones come out." I was actually pleasantly surprised at that. I was expecting something along the lines of "Die with a hooker bouncing on top of you!"

My biggest fear about some commericals is that my child will walk in during them, while I'm looking around for the remote, and ask just what's going on. My problem: Do I use the word "senator" when referring to the man? Do I use the word "nurse" when referring to the harlot? Or, do I simply throw up my hands, cover my child's eyes and loudly announce, "They're just selling telephones, dear!"?

This is what happens when college kids are allowed to make adverts. Next, it'll be topless dancers hawking portable grills or nudists selling auto batteries. Product? What product?

Readers Digest - a new low in loss.

January's Reader's Digest, in addition to the usual recycled jokes from Milton Berle's Private Joke File and A Prarie Home Companion's Annual Joke Show, contains an article which promises to change people's lives by helping them lose weight for good. No, it's not a plan that involves massive quantities of bacon. If it were, I'd be in the kitchen implementing it right now.

The article: 50 different little exercises and dietary substitutions you can do and make throughout the day to burn calories.

Samples:

-Ballerina leg lifts while waiting on your coffee to perculate (or drip, as the author put it...there's definitely a drip here, that's for sure.) Maybe this worked for Martha Graham, but I couldn't lose weight this way as the lifts would have me in traction inside 30 seconds.

-Change from soda to fruit juice or diet soda. Such genius! Why didn't any of us think of that? Who knew that soda is fattening?? She'll get the Nobel for that one. Sarcasm ends here.

-And my favorite, for sheer insipidness, eat apples. Apples, the miracle weight loss fruit. Morgan Spulock, take that. you'd have lost weight if you'd have had the fried apple pie with all those double Quarter Pounder with Cheeses. What about apple soda though?

-Sex. Of course, this is the Reader's Digest, so the actual term was "whoopie." Somewhere, Bob Eubanks is smiling, in-between autographs at the Safeway.

I'm sorry, but Reader's Digest continues to balance its collection of inspirational and human interest stories with trumped up twaffle that is so painful to read, I actually lost weight from the blood oozing out of my eyeballs and ears. My ears are still ringing.

Does the author of this piece, who shall remain nameless to protect the daft, really think this collection of little handy weight-loss tips will become the health and fitness plan of anyone outside of a few geezer pensioners who remember when Reader's Digest used to make sense?

Apparently so, as she included at least one testimonial from a woman who claims to have lost 70 pounds using this scattershot approach. I suspect that some radical gastric bypass surgery, and/or a vicious personal trainer equipped with a bullwhip was involved. Perhaps she spent a lot more time at Subway that she admitted to the Reader's Digest writer. Jared did it.

Hmmmm...I did just notice the suggestion that beer and wine are less fattening than mixed drinks, such as strawberry daquiris or margaritas. I may have to reconsider the whole thing over the Fat Tire ale sitting on my coaster as I write this. I may not actually lose weight, but chances are, I will forget all about the article itself.

Cheers. (Takes a delicious sip) What was I writing about?

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Biggest Surprises in Brokeback Mountain...

...aside from the gay angle that Jesse completely missed while he was out getting corn dogs and dill pickles. (I'm kidding Jesse, just kidding!). In the spirit of a Letterman Top Ten list:

10. Not as much leather as some might expect.

9. The cowboys reenact the flatulence scene from "Blazing Saddles".

8. Everyone rides side-saddle.

7. Alec Baldwin cameo.

6. Unusual catch phrase: "There's bacon in them beans!"

5. Not a single horsewhippin'

4. The candygram scene with Mongo.

3. All the indians are straight as an arrow. No pun intended.

2. Eminem and Elton John duet.

1. No one actually breaks anyone's back... Not even euphemistically.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Good wholesome entertainment...with a twist.

From time to time I get messages from my old friend Lukas P. Short concerning items that he finds interesting and I've passed some of those on to you guys. Today, however, Luke has dropped by the DOUI offices to share something special he thought might interest our readership. So Luke I'll let you take it from here.

Howdy folks, I sure do appreciate Stew allowing me to hitch up to the Dictionary here and let ya'll in on something I've learned about recently. Just like most of you folks I just love a good movie and if it's a Western, well that's all the better. Being a cowboy myself, I love those tales of life in the old west or just a fine yarn about cowpokes out on the trail. Why many is the time as a youth that I would watch William S. Hart, Tom Mix, John Wayne, or the like ride the range fighting outlaws or just runnin' a herd, and I'd dream of being out there too. Now, these days I don't get to the picture shows as often as I'd like but I heard there's a new cowboy flick out that has all the critics and similar folk excited. Since I haven't had a chance to get out to it yet I sent my old friend Jesse Hogsweat out to take a gander and report back. Jesse and I met up on our instant message service last night and he gave me his review. Let me just say now that he told me some things that may seem odd but there are good explanations for them.

LPSHORT: Jesse are ya there? Durned fool computers, can't get this...

Hog-sweat1: I'm here Luke.

LPSHORT: Howdy pardner, did ya get a chance to see that Brokeback Mountain movieshow I told ya'll about?

Hog-sweat1: Saw it this afternoon. I liked Lonesome Dove so much I wasn't going to miss anything by McMurtry. Acting was good but I must admit I did have some prejudices about what I saw.

LPSHORT: Well, let me have it Jesse, I can surely take it.

Hog-sweat1: Well you said it was a cowboy movie so I went in with a preconceived notion of what I was going to see. It was a bit shocking to find out that they were... well it's hard to say...

LPSHORT: Jesse, you usually don't mince words, let it out son...

Hog-sweat1: Well, ok... herding sheep.

LPSHORT: Come again.

Hog-sweat1: They were actually not herding cows it was sheep.

LPSHORT: Hmmmm, that is a bit odd. But Jesse, you know that we shouldn't be prejudiced against those sorts of people. A man has to get work as he can. You don't know whether he was born into that sort of work or whether something changed down the line. You might remember in college you experimented with being a pig farmer.

Hog-sweat1: You're right Luke, I shouldn't hold it against them.

LPSHORT: Tell me some more about the film. Did it do justice to the great Wyoming countryside? How were these sheepherding cowboys portrayed?

Hog-sweat1: Well Luke to be honest my diverticulitis was acting up so I was in and out of the theater but I don't think I missed anything too important. They were out on the range watching the sheep, sweeping vistas of God's country,showed'em with their wives... let's just say they were some lucky gentlemen.

LPSHORT: Purty were they?

Hog-sweat1: Indeed they were. Well, they face what cowboys throughout time have; the cold, coyotes, and a desire for the one thing we sometimes keep hidden.

LPSHORT: Camaraderie?

Hog-sweat1: No, whisky. Something every cowboy needs on a cold night. Why, in one scene it's so cold I'm sure they broke out a couple of bottles. I missed it due to my episodes but the look on some of the men's faces in the audience told me they must have made durned fools of themselves.

LPSHORT: Like the time I put that horse blanket over myself and demanded to be called King Tootin'common due to my bean induced flatulence?

Hog-sweat1: This had to be worse I'm sure. Well their wives, as wives are wont to do, don't understand them and the bond that makes them men. You know what I mean Luke.

LPSHORT: Did you just use the word - wont?

Hog-sweat1: Ya, I been learning some new words lately.

LPSHORT: Well, I'm proud of ya boy.

Hog-sweat1: Thanks Luke. Anyway, they keep up their friendship over the years but have trouble as we all do in life. It really is sad to see them and how things turn out but we all know that's the sometimes sad, lonely life of the cowboy.

LPSHORT: Thanks Jesse, I appreciate ya. Hope the bowels get to workin' properly.

Well, there you have it folks. Brokeback Mountain seems to be a good cowboy picture with a bit of a twist. Who'da figured the twist would be that they were herding sheep? I know I'll be seein' it the first chance I get to. This is Lukas P. Short, signin' off. Ya'll have a good day.




Monday, December 12, 2005

A Paris Christmas? No, not that Paris you idiot!

One man in Rhode Island has built a Christmas-themed tribute to Paris Hilton.

If he were a dog, people would be begging the vet to put him out of his misery. If he were a politician, he'd be removed for mental incapacity. If he were a meat pie, they'd be scraping the mold off of him.

It's also important to note that this particular meat pie was recently arrested for trespassing onto Martha Stewart's property, so, for some, clearly it's not that big a leap from a sixty year old ex-con to the overexposed (pun intended) and overhyped hotel heiress. That will help Paris sleep at night...or from 7 a.m. to 4 p.m., when she probably does the bulk of her sleeping. More beauty sleep Paris, darling, and maybe a few months in Sing-Sing.

We've heard about the commericalisation of Christmas for years, but what does it say to find someone devoting their Christmas energies for the sake of a young woman whose biggest fame in life consists of an annoying Fox reality series and an unfortunate "adult" video made with a boyfriend... A former boyfriend, one would expect, but given this young lady's track record he's probably now in charge of her publicity.

Oh, yes, she is an heir to the Hilton fortune, but one can hardly credit that to her sudden burst into stardom other than opening up a door or two. (Fox Exec: "Miss Hilton, would you like to spend a few days on an Arkansas farm birthing calves and cleaning up horse manure? It was either you or that chick who's the daughter of the Radisson family. We can call the Holiday Inn people if you're not sure.")

However, we're speaking (well, writing) of Christmas. This is the time spent celebrating the birth of Christ the Lord, the Saviour of the human race, not fashioning giant, lighted pin-ups of a young lady, and I use the word loosely, who's more well known for eating a large, sloppy hamburger in a bikini (her, not the burger) in slow-motion than she is for endeavors involving the use of any part of her brain. Her talents are far from limitless.

The chap is clearly deranged. However, there is one bloke in the story who is in even more need of help than this would be Hilton-stalker. That would be the 80-something loony who said in response to the display, "People should not be ashamed of their sexuality — male or female."

...and a Merry Christmas to you too, sir. Please don't let anyone near the mistletoe with that duffer.

Worried Wikipedia

Stew, I think I know the reason your post was cancelled. Apparently Wikipedia has had some problem with untrustworthy posters of content. I wonder if the guy in the article did your post, also? I'm sure he didn't, as you were not accused of killing Kennedy or anything so serious that Wikipedia editors would have missed it as completely as they did this one.

In fact, I did find a few things to be highly inaccurate in your listing. For example, the listing said that you picked up sailors, but forgot to mention that it was only female sailors, as you are dead butch. Also, they left out your obsession with chainsaw ice-sculpting and para-sailboarding (and at the same time...very unique and tricky. I've sawed the mast off of many a para-sailboard trying to emulate you.)

Actually, we all know that you are happily married to Mrs. Miller (No, not Julie Christie) and have never picked up a sailor in your life, except for that time you threw that Swedish merchant seaman threw the plate glass window of a pub in Burma for calling you a "kamrat". Little did we know at the time that was Swedish for "friend." He was nice about it though, once he got out of intensive care, the lawsuit was settled, and he was able to speak again.

Perhaps we'll get some real articles on Wikipedia that Dibarri will find acceptable, when he or she is not busy overlooking fake articles linking innocent public officials to the Kennedy Assassination, or people posting photos of George Bush or Howard Dean in compromising positions with non-female sailors who may be Swedish or Danish, although I can't really tell in those types of appalling pictures.