Decapod Declaration Day

 

Out of the blue, 3YO Bronko yells: "Help! Lobsters are in my pants!" 

Being a well-trained Mr. Mom, Da-da takes everything at face value, so he dutifully checked to ensure that Bronko's pants were lobster-free... bummer. No cioppino tonight.

The Bankie Code

Da-da's youngest, Bronco, has been rather fragile of late, waxing tantrum at the drop of a moon pie. This isn't that interesting, to you or Da-da. What is interesting is Bronco's Coping Technique 2.0, where he not only wraps himself in his blankie (which he calls his, "BANKIE"), but also his adherance to a kind of logical bankie protocol. For example, during these events, Bronco couches every word and phrase with the word, "BANKIE," basically creating the equivalent of BANKIE HTML. Observe:

"Bronco, would you like some juice?"

"Bankie, DON'T TALK TO ME, BANKIE!"

Or, you could write it like this:

[BANKIE] DON'T TALK TO ME, [/BANKIE]!

Note that Da-da had to use brackets and not less-than/greater-than symbols, as it wouldn't show up, otherwise. Da-da isn't sure what this is good for, but the beginning stages of a whole new BANKIE coding scheme is always exciting.

Breaking News From Da-da's Head

Is that "Outer Limits," or "Bowling for Dollars"?

Crap. Must be Tuesday. Either that or Bronko and Nagurski have been playing with the remote to Da-da's head and tuned him to a dead channel again. Huh. It's kinda like real life, but more compelling. Wait, is that a chicken up there? No. It's just the way she's holding the grapefruit.

The Man Formerly Known as Chickenbutt

Well, that's just rude.

Da-da's 5 and 7YO boys love his sophisticated tale -- they should, they pretty much wrote it -- a dialectic extrapolation of the 13 Words That Make Little Kids Laugh. Da-da thought he'd share since it seems to always get laughs from the kinder crowd, even though the character development is anemic, the imagery thin, and the metaphors offered as soggy little tea sandwiches. Demographics beyond the aforementioned age group will probably just stare at you -- unless they're stoned, which they all are after age eleven.

[Performance Note: "Sit" on each silly bolded word for extra laughs. Da-da also employs a variety of accents, his thoroughly researched backwoods drawl the biggest laugh-getter, though some words take practice. It helps to channel Sam Elliott, especially in the pace... you know, kinda like you do everyday, already. And use your hands to demonstrate the eavesdroppers' slapstick.]

The Man Formerly Known as Chickenbutt
by A Man Called Da-da

There once was a man with a very silly name that hardly anyone ever said out loud. His name was Bighonkin Chickenbutt. He lived and worked outside the dark woods of Dribblestinkie, where he could be found every day making succotash for aardvarks. Somebody had to.

One day, Chickenbutt met a shy girl with red hair and red glasses. To him, she seemed very pretty. After weeks of sharing funny looks, Chickenbutt got up his courage and walked up to her. He suddenly realized he'd have to introduce himself and tell her his name. Then he saw a group of rude townsfolk standing within earshot. He knew they'd laugh at him if they heard their conversation, but he found his courage, gulped and lowered his voice.

"Um, hi. I'm... [Brghrnkn]."

"What?" the girl asked. "I couldn't hear you." Her voice was kind, birdlike with a bit of raspberry. The eavesdroppers craned their necks.

Bighonkin cleared his throat. "Ahem. Most call me... Chickenbutt." The girl smiled, but did not laugh. The eavesdroppers snickered quietly. "But you can call me Bighonkin."

"How do you do?" she said, still not laughing for some reason. "What brings you to our fair town?"

"I work at the Dribblestinkie rutabaga factory... making succotash... for aardvarks."

The eavesdroppers tried hard not to laugh out loud, shoving fists in their mouths and pulling jackets over their heads.

"How fascinating," the girl said, sincerely. Encouraged, Bighonkin asked the girl her name.

"My name is... Aimnotta," she said. Nearby, an eavesdropper snorted in the bushes.

Bighonkin thought this an odd name. "Aimnotta," he said. "Aimnotta what?"

"Aimnotta OoglyUnderpants," she said. One eavesdropper laughed and fell into a corn bin. Another laughed so hard he fell off a roof (BONK). "I teach at the Flabberbingball School for Wombats. We train them to use teeny tiny toilets."

The eavesdroppers howled, falling over themselves in the street, laughing. One tripped into a pickle barrel. Eventually, they all passed out. In the silence, Bighonkin moved closer to Aimnotta.

"I know this is sudden, but will you marry me?" Bighonkin asked.

"That would make me... Aimnotta Chickenbutt," she said, making a face. An unconscious eavesdropper lying in the dusty dirt road laughed once and was silent. "It's not very dignified, I'm afraid."

Bighonkin thought a moment. "What if we both changed our names to one we found more agreeable?"

Aimnotta smiled, nodded and took his hand. "Then the answer is yes. Wait till you taste my chickenhead poof-cake!"

And so it came to pass that Bighonkin Chickenbutt of Dribblestinkie married Aimnotta OoglyUnderpants of Flabberbingball. The next day they legally changed their last names and traveled to a new county for a time, where they started a new family. Years later, longing for home, they moved to nearby Whackenpoof Prefecture in SquirrelButt Township. The local newspaper ran a story about the newcomers:

SquirrelButt Welcomes Underpants-Heads

Locals welcomed Aimnotta and Bighonkin Underpants-Head to SquirrelButt yesterday with open arms. The Underpants-Heads bring with them all manner of rutabaga and succotash thingies, as well as wombat-style teeny-tiny toilet training for SquirrelButt farmers everywhere. Additionally, Aimnotta Underpants-Head's new Squirrelbutt bakery boasts her award-winning chickenhead poof-cake.

Their children, Stinky, Whomper, Jiggerbutt, Gooberbooby and Robo-stinkie Underpants-Head start Boom-Pickle Elementary in the fall. 

The End. Finally.

Yeah. Da-da knows. It's Proust for pre-schoolers. Try reading this to a group of kindergartners though, and you'll knock 'em dead.

Words That Make Little Kids Laugh

Since there's nothing that can match the sound of little kids laughing like mental patients (hey, Da-da does it), here's this. Mix any of the following words with the below sub-list and watch what happens.

1. UNDERPANTS (or PANTS)
2. BUTT
3. POOP

The above three (i've omitted BOOGER and some of the more nefarious words) usually draw a cheap snicker, but the real silliness is in combining them with the below sub-list -- or anything nonsensical -- the combination of which sends Small Beings into Paroxysm Land. So, in no certain order:

10. SQUIRREL (e.g., SQUIRREL UNDERPANTS)
9. RUTABAGA ("RUTABAGA TRANSPORT" is also good, esp. as a Midwest band name)
8. SUCCOTASH (say it with great conviction and relax: it's just lima beans and corn)
7. AARDVARK
6. CHICKENHEAD
5. VAMPIREPANTS (no idea why this got a laugh)
4. OOGEY-FLABBER-BINGBALL-BISQUITOON
3. ROBO-anything
2. BAJOOBIE
1. NINCOMPOOP

To reiterate, add BUTT, POOP, PANTS or UNDERPANTS to any of the above, say them with a funny voice, and you've got the makings of a guaranteed knock-out kindergarten graduation speech. Make a song of it and you've gone preschooler platinum. These words can also occasionally STOP tantrums, as Small Brains will LOCK and CENTER on anything ridiculous, if only for a moment. (Kinda like Monty Python's, "Confuse a Cat.")

Of course, the social earthquake word UNDERPANTS (from the German olio of, "UNTER-DAS-PANTS-HEIL" and "SUPERAFFENGEIL") stands alone as the consistent laugh-getter, across all alien 3-6YO demographics. UNDERPANTS are just funny, Giotto. Like Chevy Chase calling out the ghost town bartender, "HEY, UNDERPANTS!" (though note that that was mostly funny because the bartender then mock-blew Chevy away with a double-barrel shotgun). You might as well enjoy this brief tyke apercus of mirth, because by the time they're 8, they'll be wearing all black with black shoe polish around their eyes and then NOTHING'S FUNNY ANYMORE -- except Da-da falling down the stairs, which is always funny. So, strike while the iron's on top of the chicken.

Images courtesy of one of Da-da's favorite sites, Archie McPhee. And the plug's for free, hee hee.

By the way, speaking of subnomenclature chicken, you geeks might enjoy playing with The Torpoleximatic, seen here in it's corruptible mortal state.

Uh oh...

SQUIRREL!

McCartilage Sandwich is Back (GMO Shark Cartilage Never Tasted So... Glue-y BBQ-y?)

Ew. Yes, all that shark cartilage rotting on docks can now be shoved into your papa gullet, along with copious amounts of salt and red foodie BBQ-y chemicals that are bag and baggage of this, the NON-FOOD DIMENSION. I'd make fun of this silly '80s BBQ-y contraption till the hogs cried home, but the guy at Ludic Despair did such a better job. Da-da checks to the power.

If lightning strikes this thing, we're all hosed.

You Know It's Monday, When...

...Mr. LOUD is suffering from ABCBCI (Auto-beanbag Clothes Basket Cranial Inversion)...

...baby tiger has the spins...

...and da-da's brain is in a bag. Does that make sense? I can't tell, my brain's in a bag. Hey, I suddenly feel like running for Congress! Or maybe an anchor on FOX!

"You can either frolic and revel in this month's ritual phonebook burning -- or you can talk to the clown."

In response to the potential (silly) book-burning of the Quran in Florida on 9/11, AcmeVaporware today announced...

============================================

ACMEVAPORWARE TO BURN PHONEBOOK ON 9/11

AVW Annoyance Response Section to Immolate White Pages (No Offense) to Protest People Who’ve Lost All Sense of Perspective

JUDGMENT CITY, Florida -- SEPT 7, 2010 -- AcmeVaporware today announced that highly trained AVW shock troops from the company’s supersecret Annoyance Response Section have successfully infiltrated various parts of the world to burn phonebooks (in fireplaces, we’re careful alien step-ins, c’mon) to protest people protesting without proper cranial pressure levels. Angry villagers -- who aren’t that angry and who are very very careful with fire ­ are asked to burn their own (old) phonebooks, but only if it’s cold and you want to keep warm. The fearless onslaught will feature some of the most advanced and frightening pyrotechnic iterations of the company’s Physical Layer de-routing solutions ever assembled in the confused state of Florida.

“Few -- if any -- of us at AVW can stand people getting excited about dumb things,” said Dr. John Smallberries, chairman of AcmeVaporware, from inside a giant tub of bubble bath at AVW headquarters, his big toe caught in the tub faucet. “This action, while overly dramatic, really captures the terror and absolute chaos that surrounds any sudden, Physical Layer, De-res Un-naming Scenario.” A fireman on scene asked why he was in a tub of suds in his office. “Oh. I like to be clean, ok? Besides, we at AcmeVaporware ARE VERY CAREFUL WHEN IT COMES TO FIRE. WE SERIOUSLY ADVISE ANYONE WHO WILL BE SHARING IN OUR WHITEPAGE BURNING TO DO SO RESPONSIBLY, FROM INSIDE A TUB OF WATER, OUTSIDE, IN A VACANT LOT, FAR FROM GASOLINE OR DOGS OR SMALL CHILDREN OR NUCLEAR WASTE OR UFOS OR THE WHITEHOUSE. What was the question?” Dr. Smallberries later stated that, since we’re all basically one giant spirit, anyway, we might as well do away with silly things like individual names, religious intolerance, and phonebooks.

"AAAAUUGGGHHHIIIIIIEE!!!!" screamed someone at a local church when informed of AcmeVaporware’s future actions, pocketing their $20,000 check from CNN. Prior to being flash-frozen, the entire congregation in question chanted, en masse, that they fully support AcmeVaporware’s De-res Ontological/Individual Initiative, as well as: “THE NEW PHONEBOOK’S HERE! AND IT’S JUST ONE PAGE! YAY!”

The congregation, along with many many others of all denominations and divisors, will be stored in AVW’s Area 52 CEO Proving Grounds & Mass-name Storage Facility near Groom Lake, Nevada. The company’s specially designed cryogenic storage facility already features such notables as: Elian Gonzalez, Monica Lewinsky, Bert Convy, Scott Baio and Gavin MacLeod (thus ending any possibility of a Love Boat Reunion). The congregation was placed next to Walt Disney and the REAL Martha Stewart ; the android Martha Stewart was unavailable for comment. Charo and Fidel Castro remain at large.

About AcmeVaporware

AcmeVaporware, Inc. is a revolutionary parodic monstrosity, doling out incomprehensible OSI-model mimetics, quasi-lexiconographical de-logistics and torpolinguistic supply-chain wake-up calls to anyone caught touching their monkey within the tri-state area. Information on AcmeVaporware, its future secret projects, and its delicious, profligate amounts of finest-quality vapor are mostly classified. Regardless, it's all on www.acmevaporware.com anyway, so whatever. You can also find a bunch of it, here:

http://acmevaporware.com/_00torpo.htm

http://acmevaporware.com/acme.htm

###

Logrolling ist superaffengeil.

A Fistful of Da-da (or Da-da, You Sucker)

It's Friday, guests are incoming, and you know what that means...

Yeah, Da-da doesn't know what it means, either. Actually, it might mean some unsuspecting people are gonna get hit by Dada's Dynamite Zombie-cowboy casserole. Mmm-mm, that's good ZCC.

[UPDATE: Da-da ended up serving corndogs and everclear. It was that kinda night. At least his quick-draw garlic press saw some action. In what? You don't wanna know.]

A Sunday Drink Recommendation

A Sinister Friday the 13th

In honor of my oldest son being left handed, I invite you to drink left handed on THIS, Int'l Left-handedness Day. It's also Friday the 13th, so no tool use, please, southpaws. (Lefties have more accidents, statistically, as 99.5% of tools are designed by and for those damned right handers, but you probably already knew that.) That said, here are some lefty facts:

1. Left Hander's Day was started in August 13 1976 by Left handers International.
2. About 7 percent of the population is left handed.
3. Lefties are also called "southpaws".
4. In twins, there is a high tendency for one to be left-handed.
5. 1 in 4 Apollo astronauts were left-handed.
6. 4 of the 5 original designers of the Macintosh computer were left-handed.
7. Left-handers usually reach puberty 4 to 5 months after right-handers.
8. George H.W. Bush, Bill Clinton, and Barack Obama are all left handed. Ronald Regan was left handed too.
9. Pablo Picasso, Isaac Newton, Leonardo Di Vinci, and Michelangelo were also left handed.
10. Right handed people tend to use the left side of their brains more. Left handed people tend to use the rights.
11. Left handers tend to adjust quickly to seeing underwater.
12. Right handers tend to chew food on the right side, left handers tend to chew on the left side.
13. Albert Einstein was left handed. He also had three testicles.
14. Left handed people who have higher I.Q.s tend to have an I.Q. of over 140.
15. In some cultures it is impolite to touch your food with your left hand (because they wipe with it).

[link]

Ok, I'll add one:

16. Lefties are always telling you that they're Lefties and forming international clubs at the left-handed drop of a hat.

Finally, for that one poor schmoe whose brain still works and wants to know why this Friday the 13th is, "sinister"... the Latin, "sinestre" means, "left handed." Yes, but can the steam engine do this:

Go, son.

GETCHERHANDOUTTAYERPANTS!!

So, my old friend, Trotsky -- not that Trotsky, the other one -- has called me a big weenie for having all my gray matter roasted in tasty woks in Chinatown by my two radioactive youngins, leaving my cranium an echoey blimp hangar. Sure, ok, his youngest is a piece of work, BUT I'VE GOT TWO OF THOSE. And not only that, they walk around with their damn hands down their pants 23/6. It's impossible to know just how many times I've ululated: "GET YOUR HAND OUTTA YOUR PANTS BEFORE I CALL SANTA." They are both, alas, just like their irrepressible Grampa Scotty, who has one hand in his pants at all times, the other hand cradling a singlemalt scotch. Ahh, retirement!

Currently listening to...

I'm just at the part where the cat starts gnawing on her face. Groovy!

Every Child Loves Schnappsie

"The only dog in the world with a magic button." Awesome.

[And a lot of you pervs are finding this because of the unintentional keyword, "magic button." 
Guess what? You'll eventually be A Man/Woman Called Da-da/Ma-ma. And you'll feel the burn. Then... come on back, Lumpy. Bye for now.]

It's Stupor Thursday!

As my oldest loves Stuporman, here are a few da-da-esque covers for today.

Dada Rolls On

And you thought I meant Superman was ROLLING on Scooby Snacks, you depraved lounge zombie. He's actually on Salvie Divinorum, peanut butter and Tetrodotoxin, if you really must know.

Dada Goes Down

Your Kid is Slothlike

Guess who?

Da-da just heard two LSMs (Leopard Skinned Moms) at Hole Fuds -- where else -- arguing about whose kid was HOTTER. Their kids looked like drugged tree sloths, but Da-da doesn't think irony plays any part in their lives. Da-da has always hoped his kids would be awkwardly geeky and rather homely, so they'd end up as hugely attractive uberfashion models in Milan. Hey, it'sDa-da's DREAM, ok? Don't mess with THE DREAM. So, in support of his rather splanchnic hypothesis, Da-da presents a photo of a famous celebrity who wasn't exactly a dreamboat at nine. Can you guess who it is? Winner gets an autographed prosthetic limb of Adolph Menjou. Da-da's choice on which limb.

Brick Washing Day

Yes, Tuesday is Brick Washing Day, yay. (My bricks were DIRTY. Get off me.) Now, as da-das the world over are about as laundry-challenged as a demographic can get (I think dogs actually outrank us), this poor schmoe cannot be blamed for his confusion. I mean, whites with reds but not with socks on Thursdays but take the silk tiger cammies out before the napalm rinse and GET THAT BRA OUTTA THERE. Jeez, sorry. Anyway, here's this:





Absolutely NO washing machines were hurt during this episode... oh, except this one.

Picture for a Sunday Afternoon