In answer to the most common question we’ve been asked of late: Yes, there’s a reason we haven’t released any new music recently. It’s a technical snafu that can aptly be summed up in the immortal aphorism “don’t put all your eggs in one backup drive.” We’ve been on the road again, with more short trips scheduled for the next couple of months, so when we return we’ll tackle that particular carbuncle.
In the meantime, greetings and asphyxiations from Pinky Tourette, your guide to all things Tourette. I’m in the batter’s box, chainsaw in hand, a couple stiff ones already inside me, so let’s have at it. Hit me with your best shot. Go.
Bullwinkle J. M. of Frostbite Falls, MN asks: The Netflix show “Blockbuster” is about the last Blockbuster video store on Earth. The show purports to celebrate small, local businesses, but given that Blockbuster drove countless small, local video stores out of business and then Netflix in turn drove a stake through Blockbuster’s heart, is this show A) tribute, B) irony, or C) simply a grand, craven example of corporate/artistic hypocrisy?
A: It is gloating, my winkled friend, pure and simple. It is the victor looming over the victim and pissing on his wounds, then setting up a stand in the marketplace selling the victim’s piss-basted flesh as a briny delicacy.
Scooby D. of Coolsville, OH asks: Last week I attended the annual insurance industry convention in Vegas where I heard that at one of the con’s legendary coke-fueled afterparties, Jake from State Farm hooked up with Flo from Progressive. Tell me it ain’t so, Mo.
A: It ain’t so, Scoob. According to Snopes.com, this is a libelous rumor started by NJM to slander the competition. In truth, the assignation in question was between the Aflac duck and the Geico gecko. Watch for the reality show coming soon on [adult swim].
Yogi B. of Jellystone Park asks: How do I get to the dark web? I’m looking to start an online prostitution service called Harlots Web.
A: Ah, like so many of our deviant fans, you, dear Yogi, are searching for that fabled land where pasty losers in frumpy clothes gather virtually to geek out over “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” outtakes and Count Chocula Funko Pop figures. Wait, I’m sorry, I thought you said the DORK web. My apologies. The DARK web is easy to find. Head down Venal Street and make a left two blocks after Transgression Boulevard. It’s right behind the third Starbucks.
SpongeBob S. of Bikini Bottom, P.O. asks: At Newark Airport there’s this room that’s labeled a “baby changing station.” Except I saw a woman go in with her baby and when she came out minutes later: same baby. What gives?
A: Good catch, Spongester. This is a 60 Minutes exposé if I ever heard one, or at least an Epoch Times filler blurb. There is clearly an underground cabal running these evil chambers, hidden in plain sight inside airports, bus depots, train stations, and more across our fine wide land of spacious skies and amber waves of gruel. Do common people like you and I know what transpires within these “stations?” I submit that nay, we do naught. What, one must inevitably wonder, are the options available within those dank walls to craven mothers (for it is always mothers) who offer up their own babies for changing? Is it as simple as a trade for another baby? Or perhaps for a dog? A kangaroo? A dinette set from Raymour & Flanagan? What do these devil-spawn moms crave in exchange for their own innocent flesh and blood? We may never know. Although personally, I’d recommend the dog.
Foghorn L. of Old MacDonald’s Farm asks: Just the other day I just happened to be thumbing through an old Playboy (for the articles, you know) and noticed a lot of ads for bachelor pads with these huge mama-jama speaker cabinets. Did people really used to waste valuable living room real estate on speakers?
I’m going to answer this question in a roundabout way. There was a period not so very long ago – a couple decades, really – when most people looked upon the LP record as a relic, a fossil, an antique artifact of ancient technology, much like the floppy disc or rotary phones or Donald Trump. Then suddenly one day they were hip again. The point being that life is cyclical. Yes, Foggo, big mama-jama speaker cabinets were immensely popular in those long-ago day before Steve Jobs and his digital cronies reinvented lo-fidelity (© Thomas Edison). Yes, in that Jurassic era people liked their songs to sound big and rich; full, lush, and powerful. But much like the breakthrough revolution of transistors that allowed for portable radios and subsequently resulted in speakers that sounded like whippet-snorting munchkins in a tin can, digital music devices created a wave of miniaturization both in equipment and in sound itself. The smaller the better. Having a party in your loft? Pump up the MP3 compressed tunes on your iPod through a single one-inch speaker. Rock on, Lothario. Today we are still in the lingering aftermath of the smaller-is-better era of music. You want my advice, invest heavily in companies that market mama-jama speakers. Their day shall return.
And with that we’ll gently ease closed the Book of Incomprehensible Knowledge and wave toodle-oo to all our friends and assailants for the nonce. See you next nonce.
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