Nip it...Nip it in the Bud!!

Don Knotts has passed away. American audiences will remember him primarily for his endearingly zany portrayal of Deputy Sheriff Barney Fife on The Andy Griffith Show. Younger audiences will unfortunately recall him as the over-sexed, over-polyestered second landlord Mr. Furley on Three's Company.

Knotts approach to comedy, shambling, bug-eyed, and blustering, worked magic on the Griffith programme, and while undeniably funny on Three's Company, was also a bit disturbing at times. Admittedly, this also may be because the idea of "Barney Fife" living a "swinger's life" and the implications of his character's sexual attraction to nubile twenty-something women, were in themselves the dramatic equivalent of nails on a blackboard. In fact, the idea of Barney Fife even being familiar with something like a condom or a "one-night stand" is enough to flat out kill a certain class of Americans above the age of sixty, and understandably so.

Nonetheless, he will be missed. He was a broad burlesque of a character on a medium full of burlesque, and he left an indelible impression. Why, I recall a poem by the noted philosopher, poet, and bird-chaser Max Speebek on the very tension of Don Kontts approach itself, and I hereby offer it in tribute.

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Nip It in Those Buds!

A provocation by Max Speebek

Barney
Would you take the squad car down the street to Apartment 201 Roper Apartment House
There is a disturbance
Which involves an older man
Wrapped in polyester and oogling young sexpots
Nip esso nel germoglio

"Outrageous, Andy! we'll just see about that!"

The siren screams high above Santa Monica Mayberry RFD
The stars in the heavens whirl about in anticipation
Of the cataclysm to come
Like the bosom of a moderately attractive ingenue
In the office of a reasonably sleazy producer.

The small town deputy pulls into the parking lot
Trembling
His hands tremble
His legs tremble
His feet tremble
His face trembles
His, well let's not go there trembles
Each step upstairs fills him with dread though he knows not why
He suspects he is uncomfortable with young sexpots
Being unfamiliar with either sex or pot.
The door looms like the pit of an olive
He opens it.

"Freeze!"

Time stands still, frozen in the icy gaze of
Barney Fife staring at his future self
Mr. Furley, robed in patterns that would make a Scotsman blush
Fainting in the arms of a scantily clad young dish
Gaping back at his younger self
Innocence with a .38 and a full body tremor
Is it any wonder people thought Gomer was gay
What would Aunt Bee say to see him so?

We will never know. The universe folds in upon itself at the sight.
Two Barneys
Two Furleys
One really weird party.

Ice worms!

If you thought chicken with teeth were bad, how about this: Ice worms. Apparently we have to worry about more than just bad sausages these days.

This means that I have to always choose crushed ice from the fridge from now on. This does bring up the question of how does ice get worms anyway...from other ice? Perhaps, that is better left unanswered.

UPDATE: To my great relief, the article turns out to be about ice worms in the arctic. I must remember to not skim so much in future. A great case for global warming if you ask me...more global warming, that is.

Best moment in the article: When one of the students researching the ice worms declares, "They're kind of hot right now." Poor bloke. Get out of the arctic. Blimey, get out of the dorm and meet some people. Where I live, "hot" has a totally different definition.

There is another humourous moment in the article where one of the researchers finds an actual tiny ice worm. Upon exposure to the frigid air, the worm breaks in half. "Oh well," the scientist said. "It's still pretty exciting." That's the spirit.

It could be worse, though. They could have teeth.

Damn! My chicken salad sandwich bit me!

I recently read one of the most disturbing articles I've ever seen online: "Surprise: Chickens Can Grow Teeth."

Excuse me while I shudder nervously. The fact that the article describes the chicken in question as a "mutant" does not give me any solace.

This has terrible implications for the food industry. With teeth, chickens automatically move ahead of beef (ferocious bulls with firearms excepted) on the food intimidation scale, just beneath lobster.

The worst part is the likelihood that all of those cows painting "Eat More Chicken" on roadside billboards are about to have their arses chewed by some seriously vicious hens. Expect the company to change their name to "Beef Fil A" any day now.

What's next, sheep with poison fangs? Grouper with giant whiplike stingers? Pheasant with razor-sharp cockscombs?? Shrimp with atomic breath like Godzilla??? Eating should only be dangerous for the food.

Somehow, I suspect Ingrid Newkirk is behind this.

A DOUI Olympic UPDATE!!!

Only 3 more Olympic Shopping days are left!!! Hurry down to McDonald's to get your Bode Miller and Sasha Cohen action figures now!

Sasha does pirouhettes and double-sowcows at the press of a lever, and all in a gaudy Bob Mackey costume that would give Cher claustrophobia. Sasha's smile is painted on with a special polymer guaranteed to withstand 100 mph winds and dour Russian judges, just like the real thing!

Bode's figure comes with a broken ski pole and a slinky Danish dance partner. Push the lever and hear Bode shout, "I'm dancing 'til the cows come home, or until the start of the alpine combined, whichever comes first!" Empty bottles are also strewn about Bode's feet. You can choose from "Heineken Bode" or "Carlsburg Bode!"

Hurry now, before they're gone and we can get back to poking fun at Tom Cruise, Ben Affleck, and Paris Hilton!

Daniel Craig - A Sinking Ship?

Well, the response to the choice of Daniel Craig as James Bond grows ever warmer. Apparently, fans of the series are threatening to boycott the next Bond film, Casino Royale, unless Craig is replaced.

While I can fully understand this sentiment, given that Craig seems hardly suited to match David Niven's sly, self-parodic, Pink-Pantherish, "show off his shortcomings" turn as Bond in the original adaptation of the seminal Ian Fleming Bond book, much less the dark, brooding Connery or the sly, energetic Brosnan; it seems a bit cruel to pile on so early. So what if Craig seems only slightly more brooding than Benny Hill or barely more sly than Graham Chapman in Yellowbeard. Shouldn't we give this young bloke a chance to fully embarrass himself in the role first? I mean, it's not like they signed on Ben Affleck or Emilio Estevez to the part. Surely Craig should be able to offer something beyond quirky, stand-offish, neo-hippy gestalt, scruffy, method, Royal Shakespeare cast-offness to the role, right? Unique hair? Stalkerish intensity?

Or should we just bombard him with juvenile blonde jokes, now? Here's one.

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There were three Bonds who went into a pub, a dark-haired Bond, a red-headed Bond, and Daniel Craig. The dark-haired Bond said "I'll have a medium-dry vodka martini, shaken, not stirred." The bartender handed him his glass and just as he went to take a sip, Daniel grabbed him by the lapels and shakes him, spilling vodka and vermouth all over his tuxedo.

"I'm glad you said 'shaken', " said Craig with a giggle. "I wasn't quite sure how to stir you."

The dark-haired Bond, offers a half-hearted smiled before unloading his Walther PPK into Craig.

The red-haired Bond replies, "What took you so bloody long? I wanted to shoot him when he showed up in the car park in a Miata." He then unloads his PPK into Craig for good measure.

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Too harsh? All right, I know it's not a gem, but it's late and I was making it up as I went. Plus, I left out the line about the bartender shooting him, as well....with an uzi...and the twenty patrons (all members of the American NRA and thus, heavily armed). There was a Swiss cheese joke also, but it seemed excessive.

Still, it's when you match up Craig with the other Bonds that you start to get some sense of his inadequacies. There should be a standing rule that anyone cast as Bond should be able to take Timothy Dalton in hand to hand comment. Dalton would stomp on Craig's head and then beat him to a pulp with his own handbag.

Also, all Bonds should be at least as tall as I am. I'm 6'1" (or 1.85 meters). Craig, at a measely 5'11" (or 1.80 meters) is the only one who doesn't measure up. Blimey, if I can't look a Bond in the eye, he's not Bond. It's not like I'm asking for someone John Cleese's height. Cleese, as Q, shouldn't be able to rest his arm on the top of the bloke's head though!

So, boycott away! Sorry, Daniel old chap. It's back to Lara Croft: Tomb Raider for you. At least you'll get to hang out with Angelina Jolie, if Brad will let you get that close.

Everything for the man of the land.

It's always exciting when a new niche store comes to town. Oh sure, we all love our Wal-marts and Targets, but you get that extra charge of excitement when a store with a distinct motif opens its doors. What store am I talking about? Why, none other than Cabela's, that sportsman's mecca we all know and love. OK, so some of the sheen is off, I personally don't hunt or fish but I have friends and acquaintences that do so the acres and acres of rod, reels, and camo gear will come in handy for them. Not that I wouldn't probably get some use out of the place, I'm sure they would have some snow gear or something I could use.

I decided to take a look at their online site to see what it might have to offer. Let's just say I probably won't be spending too much time there.



I'm not sure if this one is for the beekeeping huntsman, or the hunter who is worried about the potential of killer bees intruding on his foray into the wilderness. I just know that if it looks like something Michael Jackson would make his kids wear, it ain't for me.



Too Brokeback.



From the "So You're Going Hunting with Dick Cheney Collection" for kids. Comes with First Aid kit and portable defibrillator.



Remember sportsmen, know your wild game and how to identify them. This educational chart informs the huntsman of how various game animals appear in the wild. Watch out, that badger looks like he means business.



Another member of the Lil' Cheney Hunters club. Let's hope someone shows him how to properly hold that decoy when Dick is in his hunting party.



Ever been watching Brokeback Mountain and your buddies can't find you? Problem solved with our new "Woohoo, Over Here Boys" hat cover.



Men, this Yeti-skinned jacket is just the thing to tell her: "I love you so much, I bought Sasquatch for you."



"What kept me warm in my spider-hole on those cold, lonely nights. My Cabela's bomber cap and a small fire I made from my own feces. Thank you Cabela's."



Little Tommy looks sporting in his camo jacket and bib overalls. If only he hadn't been impaled by that stag he might be around to enjoy them another season.

The DOUI Live Oscar Blog Is Coming!

Why? Because the Oscars matter!

Well, actually we all know they're a heavily politicized, commericalized put-on by the American film industry. However, where else can so much of what is deservedly ridiculed about the film and entertainment industry come together so completely and inanely? So, we're going to be there, or here as it happens (at least I am), commenting on it as it happens. We want you to be there, I mean here, also.

March 5th is the big Oscars programme, starting at 8 p.m. ET which is when we'll officially start as well. Also, we may get an early run if Barbara Walters has one of her hilarious and morbidly fawning specials on prior to the show. From the dazzling banalities of the red carpet to the crap shoot that is the awards themselves, we'll have something to say about every bit of Hollywood's giant pat on the back to itself... and it generally will not be kind, because we know that's what you want!

So, join us for Oscar's big farce! See you online then!

-Earl