From: owner-fegmaniax-digest@smoe.org (fegmaniax-digest) To: fegmaniax-digest@smoe.org Subject: fegmaniax-digest V14 #267 Reply-To: fegmaniax@smoe.org Sender: owner-fegmaniax-digest@smoe.org Errors-To: owner-fegmaniax-digest@smoe.org Precedence: bulk fegmaniax-digest Monday, November 14 2005 Volume 14 : Number 267 Today's Subjects: ----------------- Re: Screw you guys! I'm going home.... ["Marc Holden" ] Re: fegmaniax-digest V14 #265 [James Dignan ] RE: Screw you guys! I'm going home.... ["Bachman, Michael" ] WanderLust -- The Next Adventure ["Hurricane Jesus" ] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Sun, 13 Nov 2005 12:46:21 -0700 From: "Marc Holden" Subject: Re: Screw you guys! I'm going home.... Eb-- >"Do you know what golden showers are, Eric?" My mom has friends that used to work in the Customs and Immigration Department whom were stationed in Guam. She got mail from them one day. I cracked up when I saw that they lived on Golden Showers Lane. My mom didn't get what was so funny, so I explained it to her. She said she didn't know what was more disturbing, the act or that I knew what it was... Later, Marc "Capital punishment turns the state into a murderer. But imprisonment turns the state into a gay dungeon-master." Emo Philips ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 14 Nov 2005 13:11:59 +1300 From: James Dignan Subject: Re: fegmaniax-digest V14 #265 > >> Before that, erm, M*A*S*H was on CBS, right? > > > > But isn't that sort of the TV equivalent of saying, well, *Lincoln* > > was a Republican...? I mean, you go back far enough, there's no real > > continuity... > >I always thought MASH was an A- drama, and a C+ comedy. The comedy >was just recycled Groucho shtick. bewildering synchronicity moment - as I read this, "The West Wing" is playing on TV in the background, with Alan Alda's character announcing a run for presidency (yeah, we're a season behind). James - -- James Dignan, Dunedin, New Zealand -.-=-.-=-.-=-.-=-.-=-.-=-.-=-.-=-.-=-.-=-.-=-.-=-.-=-.-=-.-=-.- =-.-=-.-=-.- You talk to me as if from a distance .-=-.-=-.-=-. -=-. And I reply with impressions chosen from another time .-=- .-=-.-=-.-=-.-=- (Brian Eno - "By this River") -.-=-.-=-.-=-.-= ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 14 Nov 2005 08:39:27 -0500 From: "Bachman, Michael" Subject: RE: Screw you guys! I'm going home.... Eb wrote: >> PS To me, CBS is mostly still "that network which used >> to have Northern Exposure awhile back" ;) Jeff> >Before that, erm, M*A*S*H was on CBS, right? Also, All In The Family, Maude, The Jeffersons were also on CBS in the 1970's. They were cutting edge at the time. In the 60's CBS was viewed as a hick network, with The Beverly Hillbilles, Green Acres, the various Mayberry shows, Petticoat Junction, F-Troop, etc. They did have the great news division tradition though, starting with Edward R. Murrow in the 1950's, then Walter Cronkite, Dan Rathe, etc. Michael B. ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 14 Nov 2005 10:32:41 -0800 From: Tom Clark Subject: Re: Screw you guys! I'm going home.... On Nov 13, 2005, at 11:46 AM, Marc Holden wrote: > Eb-- >> "Do you know what golden showers are, Eric?" > > My mom has friends that used to work in the Customs and Immigration > Department whom were stationed in Guam. She got mail from them one > day. I cracked up when I saw that they lived on Golden Showers > Lane. My mom didn't get what was so funny, so I explained it to > her. She said she didn't know what was more disturbing, the act or > that I knew what it was... "Thanks to Homer Simpson we'll all be taking golden showers!" - Kent Brockman - -tc ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 14 Nov 2005 14:05:30 -0800 From: "Hurricane Jesus" Subject: WanderLust -- The Next Adventure Chapter 2: Night Of The Living Orb Eb was having trouble keeping up the pace. After a glance at his watch, he thought that it might be okay to maybe miss the opening credits. This he immediately followed with a mighty outburst, surprising many of his fellow pedestrians: "No! That would be entirely unacceptable! We're talking about *Barney* here; not some fucking *Zoom* bullshit!" * * * Some minutes later, Eb burst through the door of the Brine & Brimstone and, noticing the time on the wall, let forth with a triumphant, "Boo-yah!" "Jamaican lager?" chirped the bartender. Eb glanced askance at the bartender. "Why, yes, I *did* have a Jamaican logger not all that long ago. One of the nicer pieces of ass, if you must know." "Huh?" The bartender was momentarily confused. "No, I mean Jamaican *lager*," he clarified, holding up a bottle of Red Stripe. "Nah," Eb chuckled. "Just give me the clicker, so I can watch *Barney*. And I'll have a pint of hot cocoa. ...Uh, better make it a quart, actually: I have a hunch that to-day could be the long-rumoured cross-over episode with the Teletubbies." "Sorry, man; no-can do," responded the bartender. "You're out of cocoa *again*? Sheesh. Okay, uhh...quart of Tang will work." "I meant no-can watch *Barney*: we've got World Cup qualifying going on." "SOCCER? YOU'RE WATCHING FUCKING SOCCER?" Eb had suddenly become hysterical. "Well, technically, you'd call it 'football'." "I DON'T GIVE A FLYING FUCK *WHAT* YOU'D CALL IT! I NEED TO WATCH *BARNEY*!!" Eb had really become quite un-stuck. "Sorry, but this is an important match," shrugged the bartender. Eb was in no mood for pieties. Firmly grasping his johnson (which, when a dust-up was at hand, he referred to as his "Wave-Motion Gun") and aiming it at the bartender, he blustered, "Do you want a piece of this, asshole?" Thinking quickly, the bartender produced a Chinese throwing star from behind the bar, "Do *you* want a piece of *this*?" Eb hadn't figured upon the bartender calling his bluff. If he fired his Wave-Motion Gun and missed (a possibility, at this distance), *Barney* would be half-finished by the time the Gun had recharged for a second attempt. But assuming the bartender was even half-way adept with his throwing star, Eb couldn't move in for a closer shot without risking life and limb. Realising that he'd been stalemated, Eb, overcome with emotion, fell onto a heap on the floor in a great sobbing wave of tears. "Jesus!" The bartender was genuinely touched by Eb's sincerity. "If it means that much to you, why didn't you just tape it?" Eb was barely able to relate, through his tears and his sobbing heaves, that he considered watching *Barney* on tape rather than over-the-air to be the vilest form of blasphemy. At last, the bartender offered to let Eb watch the TV in his office. Eb, not used to witnessing (let alone giving or receiving) such staggering acts of kindness, was wholly speechless (though his johnson was enthusiastically wagging to-and-fro' like an excited puppy's tail). Unable to convey the depth of his gratitude, he simply made his way, wide-eyed, to the bartender's office. * * * "Who the fuck was that?" asked Pam Dawber incredulously. (She'd been seated at the bar, incognito as the day she was born, for give-or-take forty-five minutes' time.) "Psychopathic jogger-dude that drinks up all of our hot chocolate." "Huhn." Pam Dawber was intrigued. "Fuckin' pigs let him run around nekkid like that?" "Well, the way I hear it, he was in the joint for a while; but the authorities determined that he was a greater menace on the inside than at-large. So they generally turn a blind eye to his shenanigans." "Well..." drawled Pam Dawber, "I'll say this much for him: he's got one *hell* of a nice package." "That he does," agreed the bartender. "That he most assuredly does." * * * Several hours later, Eb had finally arrived back in Orange County: "Where in the *fuck* were you?! I had to jog all the way home, goddammit." Rex looked up from his Donald Duck cartoon. "Dude, I *told* you I had band practice." "AND *I* TOLD *YOU*, MOTHERFUCKER, THAT I DON'T GIVE TWO FUCKS ABOUT YOUR FUCKING 'BAND'!" While Rex normally enjoyed playing straight-man to Eb's fits of raving, he'd reached a particularly compelling point in the plot arc of his Donald Duck cartoon; and so sought instead to defuse the situation. "You end up using that thing?" he nodded at Eb's johnson. "Naw. I *should* have. I fucking *should* have, but I -- HOLY FUCK, is that the time?? I've got to get my ass back up to Hollywood: Lawndart scored us front-row Yanni tickets." In a whorl of consternation, he was off to get ready. Rex cracked open a Jamaican lager and returned to his Donald Duck cartoon. ------------------------------ End of fegmaniax-digest V14 #267 ********************************