Browsed by
Category: hold my beer and watch this

Summer’s Over

Summer’s Over


In the city, the birds are changing color and falling out of the trees. Out on the striped lawns, third-stringers are committing holding penalties away from the play. The fellows that fill the potholes with crumbled feta cheese, dyed black, are fixing to hang the plows on their DPW trucks in order to install another whole season’s-worth of potholes. Best head on out to whatever viaduct or weir or dam or sluice or mud puddle you’ve got handy and give it one more go. You’ll be playing pond hockey on it all soon enough.

You Had Me At “Homemade Rocket”

You Had Me At “Homemade Rocket”


This one reached 121,000 feet.  Kewl. Past Kewl.

But of course, “homemade rocket” isn’t such a big deal, is it? Have we gone so far down the formal education/hell-bent-for-an-IPO rathole that we’ve forgotten that pretty much everything cool is homemade at first? Robert Goddard, who damn near invented modern rocketry all by his lonesome, essentially did it by going to the library and shooting things off in his yard. You can find this video on Google, which was started in a friend’s garage. Most cool things in this world are, you know.

We need more homemade everything. Especially cocktails. But rockets, too. And rockets and cocktails is best, I think.

[Thanks to Charles Schneider for sending that one along]

woo

woo

I said, “woo.”

Just woo. I’m not really sure why I said woo. It just seemed like a woo kind of thing. woo-ish.  It was a woo-type event. Not extremely woo-y. But fairly woo-y, surely. Not even upper-case woo. Simply: woo. Let’s not get nuts. But, woo.

The typical Borderline Sociopathic Boy needs woo in his diet. Scientists have been unable thus far to come up with the Minimum Required Daily Allowance of woo required for strong bones — but regularly fractured, I admit — and good teeth, which occasionally need to be picked up off the ground, or the ice, or the striped lawn, of course. Anyway, if you feel that you need more woo in your diet, watch the video twice.

woo

Yer Doin’ It Wrong

Yer Doin’ It Wrong


A 2600 horsepower, 1963 Ford Falcon? Hells yes!

But no, no, no. You can’t make it look like that. You should paint it that stale eggnog color popular on Fords back in the day. Get rid of the flashy wheels, and put some stamped steel with a bit of rust on the edges on there. Put a couple dents in a fender. Put a bent coat hangar in the little socket where the AM radio antenna used to go. Get some fuzzy dice, or a tassel from a high school graduation mortarboard, and hang it from the rear view mirror.

Then pull up next to, to, well, anything at a stoplight –from a Corvette to a Lambo — and give the guy the finger. When the light turns green, show him who’s boss. Very, very boss.