The Rundown : 800lb Gorilla Edition!

Back in the day, I was part of a blog called The 800lb Gorilla and we delivered up a satirical look at current events just for the hell of it. I really do believe our exploits contributed to the death of broadcasting icon Walter Cronkite, but since that can never be proven in a court of law . . never mind. So this week, it’s the Rundown meeting the Gorilla in what can best be described as the death of Shakespeare all over again.

Giddy? I’d like you to meet Up . . .

The GOP held their second debate on Wednesday evening in a performance that resembled a casting call for The Kardashians. The seven candidates displayed a predictable knack for avoiding the tough questions while failing to show a grasp of the issues in a performance that received a Rotten Tomatoes score of 14 %. The New York Times called the fiasco “A bigger embarrassment than Lauren Boebert’s after party at Waffle House last week,”. The next Republican debate will take place in Miami on November 8th in the largest assemblage of overpriced talent since the Denver Broncos left town on Sunday.

The writers strike may be over but Hollywood isn’t ready to put out the Open sign just yet with the Screen Actors Guild now embroiled in negotiations with studios. The actors are seeking higher wages, a revenue sharing agreement with streaming shows and unlimited appetizers at Applebee’s . The Guild also issued a cease and desist order against Congress for their “fictional representation of elected officials which has resulted in untold millions in earnings” while bypassing SAG membership.

With the writers strike lasting almost five months, production of scripted television shows ground to a halt. Not every scripted show suffered the consequences of the work stoppage however. Velma, The Boys and Call Me Kat were business as usual since they do not rely on writing to begin with.

Kia and Hyundai are recalling more than three million vehicles due to risk of fire in the engine compartments. Both companies have supplied a list of the models at risk as well as a warning not to park the cars near homes, buildings or members of the Real Housewives reality show. Upon learning of the recall, TikTok challenges have sprung up as emergency rooms nationwide brace for the next crop of Darwin Awards recipients.

President Biden visited UAW union members at a General Motors plant in Belleville, Michigan this week. He expressed his support for the striking workers before announcing that he would be meeting with Jimmy Hoffa to discuss the details of the ongoing strike. When informed that Hoffa disappeared in 1975, Biden replied “Then what the hell am I doing here?”.

Researchers at Augusta University in Georgia have found a link between sleeping in on weekends and accelerated biological aging. Many Americans rely on what is called “catch up sleep” on the weekend in order to deal with household chores and family members. A majority of the 6,052 adults who took part in the U.S. National Health and Nutrition Examination Survey claimed that a prolonged sleep was preferable to murder charges. When told that scientists recommended they skip the extra sleep on weekends, the test subjects responded with a collective Fuck You!

Beth Hart: Monkey Back

 

Tuesday Time Machine: From the Archives

Imma go with a blast from the past post for this Tuesday morning. It’s eight hundred pounds worth of sick puppy humor. Culled from the whine cellar of a blog whose mission statement was inspired by the late, great Robin Williams. “If they can’t take a fuck, joke ’em!”.

Monday February 4, 2008 will forever after be known as Black Monday to New England Patriots fans, following their stunning defeat at the hands of the New York Giants; a loss that prevented the Pats from going 19-0.

Also of note . . . Illinois Senator Barack Obama had taken the early lead in the democratic primaries heading into Super Tuesday. Many prognosticators at the time felt this was where Hilary was going to close the deficit and set the pace for the rest of primary season . . The stock market was struggling to steady itself after cratering to news of a possible recession . . and Iran fired a rocket into space. Shockingly, Salman Rushdie was not on board.

With all that news going on, I went with a YouTube video titled “Bird Poops in Mouth”. Because sometimes you find the story, and sometimes the story finds you. Sit back and enjoy this twenty second tutorial on what not to do when bird watching. The original title I affixed to this post was Birdie Bukakke Theater.

Classy.

Some thoughts on the matter:

• Why didn’t this ever happen to Geraldo?
• They don’t call it “Action News” for nothing.
• NEVER open your mouth when looking up to find the bird that left a deposit on you.
• The Canadian Brown Finch . . . Canada’s Answer To An Air Force.
• Being a bird means never having to apologize for coming in someone’s mouth.
• If I were this reporter, I’d turn down the mall shooting stories.
• Finally, an answer to Manfred Mann’s “Blinded by the Light” lyrics! It goes …blinded by my mike, wrapped up in a deuce, you better feed me with a sprite! . . .
• Hey, whatever happened to Manfred Mann?
• And his hat?
• This kind of thing never would’ve happened to Manfred . . . cause of the hat.
• In Thailand, American businessmen pay top dollar to have this done to them. I’ve heard stories . . .
• If that had been Ryan Seacrest, he wouldn’t have missed a beat.
• You just know this guy’s nickname in the newsroom is going to be Walter Windshield.
• If this guy would’ve needed CPR, he would’ve been screwed.
• The worst part? That wasn’t a brown finch in that tree. Al Gore was bird watching.
• “The award for best performance by a supporting actor goes to,” all those guys on the crew who didn’t crack up.
• Left unsaid: Canadian Brown Finch tastes exactly like chicken shit.

How to prevent a shark attack (From the archives)

In honor of Shark Week, Imma throw a ‘lil chum in the water via the way back machine. This post first appeared on the800lbgorilla in April of 2007. It was my way of giving my blog partner shit over his fear of sharks.

This was a popular post among shark enthusiasts, trollers and a German film director who wanted permission to use the original image attached (unfortunately, that image is no longer available).  Perhaps my favorite memory regarding this post was how many people didn’t realize that it was satire. So . . yanno . . spoiler alert? 

While you are far likelier to be killed by a stray dog, few animals evoke sheer terror in the way a shark does. This is a result of the fact most big dogs weigh no more than a hundred and fifty pounds while a shark’s average weight is several hundred pounds more. Add to this the fact most dog attacks do not occur in water- which severely limits your ability to grab a weapon or run with any degree of success.

Fortunately, shark attacks on people are rare. Although, for the victims, not nearly rare enough. Most species of shark are harmless to humans, such as those found in aquariums or on a menu. Still, even medium-sized sharks are more than capable of inflicting serious injuries or killing people due to the fact they outweigh even the average American by a quarter ton and are affectionately referred to as “cranky razor blade vessels” by marine biologists.

While it is best to learn how to prevent a shark attack, you should also know what to do in the “unlikely” event of an attack. Note: Not going into the water is always your best bet.

1. Remain calm. As the shark is tearing into your flesh, your initial reaction will be to get the hell out of the water as quickly as possible. While this is natural, fight the urge to show the shark he’s gotten the best of you and is probably going to get the rest of you before long. Remember, unless you’re Jesus Christ, you’re not going to outrun a shark in the water. It’s crucial that you keep your wits about you as the shark is tearing at your femur and introducing you to more blood than you’re comfortable with.
2. Keep your eye on the shark at all times. Sharks may retreat temporarily and then try to sneak up on you. Of course, you may turn your attention away from the shark as you search for your missing limbs. Don’t let this happen. It is essential to know where the shark is so you can defend against it, so make every effort to watch your impending cause of death, even as you’re trying to escape/scream/fall into merciful shock/drown/snap your own neck.
3. Get into a defensive position. If the Coast Guard is not immediately available or a Quint-like fisherman is not cruising in your vicinity, try to reduce the shark’s possible angle of attack. It will be easier since by this point, you are not encumbered with a pair of arms and legs. If you’re near the shore, by all means bob to safety. If you have diving equipment, descend gradually and then remove your equipment and gulp as much water as possible until you black out. In open water, if you’re with another diver, use them as a shield.

If you have achieved the first three steps, congratulations. You are no closer to actually surviving a shark attack, but you are ready to play centerfield.

4.  Fight. Seriously. Fighting a shark may seem illogical. But remember, ancient  civilizations fought sharks for sport. Do not let the fact that those ancient civilizations are extinct for a reason cloud your thinking. Playing dead won’t deter an aggressive shark, and you won’t be playing dead for very much longer anyway. Your best bet if attacked is to make the shark see you as a strong, credible threat. If nothing else, it gives him an exciting story to share with his friends later on.

• If you have a speargun or pole, shoot it. Don’t miss. Aim for the head, specifically the eyes, or for the gills. We cannot emphasize enough how costly a move this becomes should you miss. Don’t miss.
• If you don’t have a weapon such as a sawed off shotgun or .357 magnum, improvise. Use any inanimate object, such as a camera, or simply use your fists, elbows, knees, and legs to fight the shark (assuming you still have fists, elbows, knees and legs). Usually, a hard blow to the shark’s gills, eyes or nose will cause the shark to retreat. Of course, it also makes them even angrier. If a shark continues to attack, or if it has you in its mouth, take a very quick inventory of your life and pray for forgiveness.

5. Get out of the water. It would seem obvious, wouldn’t it? While there are a number of things you can do to ward off an attack, you’re not truly safe until you’re out of the water. Your goal should always be to get back to the shore or back on the boat. Then again, your goal should have been to stay out of the water to begin with.

Joe Pesci Book Review: Don Quixote (From the archives)

The following post from the archives settles the bar tab on my vacation week. This post comes from a time when I was writing for The 800lb Gorilla. Imma post a warning ahead of time for those of you who are used to reading the mellow fellow I’ve become in my advanced age. This post? Ain’t that. 

Don Quixote is the story of this douchebag who’s all fucked up in the head from reading too many fairy tales and shit. He’s a retired guy, probably living on a pension . . which went a long way back then cause he owns a villa and has a housekeeper and shit. The main fucking problem with this guy, outside of the fact that he reads, is that he believes all the stupid shit he’s reading. I mean, he’s really eating all this shit up as if he learned it on the Discovery Channel or CNN or some shit and it was really true . . stupid fuck.

The main character’s name is Alonso Quixano, which kinda reminds me of that moulie rapper . . you know who I’m talking about? Oh no, that’s another story I’m thinking about, that Shakespeare guy wrote it, where the moulie is banging white chicks all over the place and nobody’s chasing him out of the neighborhood for it . . .

So this Alonso fuckhead changes his name to “Don Quixote de la Mancha” so he can be more . . ahh fuck, what’s the word? It rhymes with Chivas Regal . . . more manly. He starts wearing a suit of armor and shit, which I have to say, is a cool part of the story. I always wanted to wear a suit of armor, with sneakers, and like, a little hole cut out in the chest so people could see my gold chains. But no helmet. Don’t fuck with my hair.

And then Don Quixote changes his horse’s name to Rocinante, which is Spanish for Roxanne. I did the same shit with my Riv, I had it detailed back in high school with this Jew chick’s name and then I found out Jimmy? The fucking guy who did the work on it? . . was banging her! I busted his fuckin’ head wide open on my windshield . . . anyway, that’s not important to the story.

So Don Quixote takes a road trip to go looking for some chick he fell in love with as a result of reading all these fag stories. But here’s the best part . . .listen to this shit. The love affair is a pigment of his imagination, the fucking hard up sonuvabitch! Yeah, it’s some chick who lives in the neighborhood who he never had the balls to go up to and ask out so instead he makes up all this crazy shit and pretends he’s gonna find her and she’s gonna be like “oh my God! You found me, let’s get married!” But there’s a better chance his horse is gonna spread his legs for him than this girl, you know what I’m saying? So, of course he ain’t gonna find her, and of course everybody makes fun of him for being such a whacked out asshole, but they call him knightjust in case he’s packing heat or something, because even back then nobody wanted to end up in a Fox News Alert.

Anyway, this fucking Alonso guy decides that his life ain’t fucked up enough, now he’s gonna bring his illegal immigrant friend along for the fucking ride too and fuck up his world. And this little guy, Sancho Panza, he’s an alright guy, ya know? He’s just minding his own business, probably stealing horse carts back then since they didn’t have no cars yet . . but he’s happy, right? And he doesn’t have all the time in the world to go looking for bitches that don’t exist and starting imaginary battles.

Anyway, talking about battles, Don Quixote tells Sancho they’re going to attack some windmills. Sancho has absolutely no fucking idea what he’s talking about, but evidently this nut job thinks the windmills are giant fucking guys with razor blades or some shit like that.

I thought this was an interesting part of the story. You know when authors put in symbols and shit instead of just fuckin’ telling you what the fuck it is that they’re trying to say? I think the windmills were a symbol for Don Quixote’s insecurity with what’s going on in his pants, you know what I mean? It ain’t ever happened to me, but I hear it happens to a lot of guys. And if it ever did happen to me and I was living back in the dark ages, I’d probably go ape shit on windmills too.

Don Quixote sends Sancho off in search of Dulcinea, so Sancho brings a few chicks to Don Quixote and he’s like “Here boss, some multiple choice,” you fucking whackadoo. And Don Quixote gets all pissed off because Dulcinea, the chick who doesn’t actually exist outside of his deranged fuckin’ head, isn’t one of them. So Sancho tells him he can’t see Dulcinea because he’s blind, thanks to all those times he was jerking off to his bullshit fag novels, the stupid motherfucker.

Sancho eventually gets to be governor of some made up island which doesn’t work out since he’s working with the imaginary money Don Quixote was paying him to be his friend. Meanwhile, the crazy fuck goes back home and starts eating right and exercising and realizing just what a crazy fuck he was. He doesn’t get laid. He dies. End of fucking story.