My Valentine’s Day Cards To You

By Andrew Blumetti

I love you all.

Seriously.  Well, not the whole “like-like” school of brilliance dolled out by the Winnie Cooper-ed mind of Kevin Arnold, but you all who read, follow, and support my blog really are the bee’s knees.  I sincerely appreciate and thank anyone who’s taken time to read, enjoy, or roll their eyes at the cornball absurdity that fills this page on a relatively frequent basis.

Ok, enough of this gooey shhhh….ow of emotion.*  Let’s get down to brass tacks here.

———————–

Before we continue, a favor first—  If you reside in the Northeast or Mid-Atlantic portion of the United States, please do me a solid- take a second and go to your window and look outside.  I’ll wait.

Back yet?

Ok, I’ll wait more.

How about now?

Good.

See the Everest-high mountains of white stuff?  There’s more snow out there than in a used CD bin.

Screw you, Blumes.

Yeah, this brutal winter is crawling by with all the lightning-quick speed of Artie Lange’s metabolism, but believe you me fellow snowed-in’s, as hard as it seems to believe, our ‘ol pal spring will be here soon, and before you know it, you’ll be itchy, watery-eyed, and sneezing your head off like the Queen of Hearts was demanding it.

But hey, even in two feet of snow, life would be nothing without small victories- my birthday is only 10 days away, pitchers and catchers are about to embark to Florida and Arizona for Spring Training, The Walking Dead has returned in all of its brain-munching glory, the Winter Olympics are running full steam, and the new Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition should show up on my doorstep anyday to make me feel pretty awkward in front of my mailman.  February is truly the month that keeps on giving.

“This cover needs more Kate Upton”- Kate Upton, Blumes

Of course mid-February ain’t all AMC-zombies and Abe Lincoln’s birthday cake.  Even if you’re still frostbitten from endless shoveling, you’ll still be sleeping on the couch if you forget the holiday that’s redder than Russia, circa 1960…

Conversation hearts?  Fat baby Cupid?  All-day Julia Roberts movie marathons?  A remarkably thinner wallet?  Make no mistake, make-no-mistakers, Saint Valentine is here with a bright red vengeance and he’s ready to kick yo keister up and down the snowy block.

For some of you, it’s a chance to take out a much-needed second mortgage for a dozen stupid red roses, boxes of mystery heart chocolates, and giant teddy bears the size of Delaware.  For others, it’s an opportunity to throw Adele on repeat, curse the Hallmark holiday for shoving your blatant singledom in your face, and chow down on your emergency stash of Ring Dings while you feverishly refresh your OkCupid profile for new messages till the clock eventually hits midnight and February 15th comes to save the day.

“This guy’s coming with me in the carpool lane!  I’ll just tell them it’s Robin Williams!”

That’s where I come in.  Whether you’re single, taken, married, or a cyborg, I’m here to boomerang back all that amazing support and positivity to you on this Valentine’s Day, Twenty-fourteen.  If it’s Friday and you’re in love, or maybe not so much, I want this day of hearts and crap to be your happiest and heartiest yet.

So, for a few short minutes, put that adorably plump Adele on hold, slam the flap on that box of uneaten Ring Dings, and pause those insufferable “Every Kiss Begins with Kay” commercials… Here’s my personal valentines to you rad readers-  feel free to print and snip.

Happy V-Day.

Love, Blumes

(* If anyone recognizes this quote, I’ll come to your house, hug you, and make you a B+ dinner.)

————————————————

————————————

———————————————

————————————————-

—————————————————

————————————————-

————————————————-

———————————————

——————————————

——————————————————

My Favorite Super Bowls (That May or May Not Have Happened)

By Andrew Blumetti

Well, this certainly didn’t happen.

————————–

February.

Talk about getting the most bang for your buck.  They really do pack a lot into a little month, don’t they?

In a mere twenty eight days, we’re graced with a bountiful bevy of winter celebration–  Valentine’s Day, Groundhog Day, President’s Day, Mardi Gras, Black History Month, Spring Training, and the most important of ‘em all (after Spring Training of course), there’s the great American holiday of Super Bowl Sunday, the biggest party since New Year’s Eve, only one month ago.

While granted, February’s short run is not as eventful as the unseen four weeks during 28 Days Later, but it makes me happy to celebrate my birthday during what would normally end up being a freezing, snowy, boring month with a girly-colored wuss birthstone.

Are you kidding me?

————————-

Living in the greater New York area, especially within earshot of Giants Stadium (or MetLife Snoopy Stadium, or whatever it’s called now), the excitement, traffic, and overall buzz has been ramped up to a Spinal Tap-worthy 11 as the Denver Broncos go mono-a-mono with the Seattle Seahawks for all the gusto and glamor of gridiron glory.  It’s truly rocky vs. rainy in the Legal Marijuana Bowl.

Blumes note:  This offer still stands!  Now half price! 

But frankly, it’s Friday, January 31st, this is all old hat by now.

At this point, you’ve been endlessly bombarded with Super Bowl ads, magazine covers, news reports, cocky fans, and nonstop party planning for weeks now.  When Monday morning comes, and you’re more chili than man, you’ll undoubtedly know the Super Bowl had come and left its mark.

But that’s not who this article is for. 

Maybe you’re not a fan of hawks or horses, perhaps Richard Sherman’s post-game interview rubbed you the wrong way, or heck, or maybe you’re one of those people seriously considering a 7th Heaven marathon instead of football this weekend.

Ladies and Gentlemen: Your special teams for the Oakland Raiders!

Of course that doesn’t mean you won’t find yourself enjoying the festivities of Super Bowl Sunday.  Dr. Oz-unfriendly food, offensively expensive commercials (that always feature a baby doing something un-babyish), the sickeningly adorable Puppy Bowl, and trying to get your greased-up fingers to press the remote buttons to change the channel as Bruno Mars performs at halftime- this Sunday is a bombastic event that will please folks of all tastes.  …as evident by this walk down memory lane of some truly classic and heavily unorthodox Super Bowl games of yore.

—————————————

1. SUPER BOWL XXXII: BATMAN VS. STORMTROOPERS

Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na SAFETY!

 

As John Madden once called it in a most clever anagram, “Capes vs. Space”, this battle royale pitted The Dark Knight vs. the Imperial Army for 60 minutes of a nerdtastic pigskin extravaganza.  After a first quarter that was heavy on the Big D, Commissioner Gordon’s 45 yard rush into the endzone to close out the first half put Team Gotham up on top.

No guts, no glory, as the ‘Troopers marched their way back in the 4th quarter.

The second half was a superhero explosion of history-making offense as holy touchdowns Batman!—  the Caped Crusader aired it out to the Boy Wonder (who took a time out from cheerleading) in the Gotham endzone.

But, when the going gets tough, the tough get going, as the Stormtroopers, with their armored backs against the wall, bounced back to tie the game as the 2-minute warning approached.  Coach Vader flipped a crap when an ill-timed interception by Alfred the Butler spelled death for the Star Wars crew with the Bats taking home the trophy to Gotham City with a score of 28-21.

Go Team! Arwwwwwaaaaaaaarrrrrrahahahahahhaahhhhaa!!!!

—————————————————

 

2.  SUPER BOWL XI:  KISS BOWL  (AKA THE TOILET BOWL)

 

“I wanna hike the ball all night!”

And you thought the Jaguars were bad…

Nothing screams out “gridiron glory” like mime makeup and gaudy platform shoes on men, but that’s why the KISS bowl was so unique.

Walking embarrassment Gene Simmons bit his long cow tongue as he slipped on his own fake blood on no less than three occasions, turning the usually triumphant game into a fumble-filled lowlight reel.  Pain in the ace, Mr. Frehley, shanked four field goal attempts, and starchild, Paul Stanley?   Well, he might as well have been the MVP… for the other team.

Chest hair and touchdowns!  Not just for Joe Namath anymore!

As far as scoring went, it was Detroit Block City.  The spandexed makeuped-ones never did touch the endzone, as KISS went down in defeat to good taste 49-0.

The best worst part was that they weren’t even asked to play the halftime show.  That honor went to The Doobie Brothers.

The great part about being KISS, is you can sell any crap you want at the souvenir stands…

 

The epilogue to this heavy metal tale of the 100 yards:  KISS never did get back to the Super Bowl, but on the plus side, KISS never did get back to the Super Bowl.

That jersey has the actual number of KISS fans left on Earth.

 

————————————————

3.  SUPER BOWL XLV:  ZOMBIE BOWL

Let’s have a hand for the hometeam!

It may have been only three years ago, but who could forget when the undead took down scalpers stadium-wide and invaded the turf during the timeless showdown of the Green Bay Packers and Pittsburgh Steelers?

Turning Aaron Rodgers into an Aaron Rodgers kabob?  Transforming Clay Matthews into an undead Thor?  Sending “Big Ben” Roethlisberger to the sideline to finally get some brains?

It all happened.  I guess.

Indigestion from overindulging in extra hot Buffalo wings rendered Daryl and Michonne practically useless that Sunday.

While the gameplay may have been painfully lumbering and a bit lethargic at times, it was no worse than any given Cleveland Browns game on a random Sunday.

The “Running Dead” tried to bite Tim Tebow on the sidelines, but he was immune to it.

But if Broadway has taught us anything, (and I guess it has…) —  the show must go on, flesh eaters or not.

Time will tell us that the zombies vs. zombies Super Bowl was a tad gory, maybe too confusing at times, and it may have taken five days to finish, but in the end, it was much less traumatizing than the Black Eyed Peas halftime show.

4th Down of the Dead!

 

One would be safe to assume the zombie apocalypse and certain doomsday would put a damper on the game’s festivities, with all the undead cannibalism and spilled guts, but the TV ratings reached an all-time high.  The NFC z-team ended up hoisting the Vince Lombardi Trophy, rotting limbs and all, bringing it back to frigid Green Bay where decaying slows down like Kirstie Alley’s metabolism.

THE ZOMBIES HAVE BECOME HIDEOUS!

The trophy had to be immediately sent out to be cleaned and shined due to the high volume of blood on it …on a weekly basis.

(On a positive note, in the zombie onslaught, Steelers safety Troy Polamalu was attacked, but escaped by a “hair”.)

Parking was tighter than George Costanza’s wallet…

…but the tailgating was awesome!

———————————————

4.  SUPER BOWL XLII:  THE RETURN OF BUD BOWL

 

 

Eli vs. Tom- buds for life!

 

For those too young to remember, the Bud Bowl was an early 90’s stop-motion beer bottle football tour de force that found its home during commercial breaks, squeezed in between multi-million dollar ads for Crystal Pepsi and The Bodyguard soundtrack.  It was a kick-glass all-out brawl between Budweiser and Bud Light.  Even as a long retired campaign, for me, that fateful Sunday in 2008 always be the year that the suds saved football.

Hut, hut… HOPS!!!

 

Phoenix, AZ–  When a thunderous monsoon that would’ve knocked over human brick wall, Howie Long, hit, it kept planes grounded and prevented both the Pats and G-Men from making their way into warm, sunny Arizona, the NFL pooped their britches, panicked and pooped them some more.

“But I wanna go on the PLAAAANNEE!!”

Sadly, cancelling the big game seemed like the only choice left, seeing as how there was no way to get the unfortunate stranded teams into the balmy city in time.  Luckily, the answer was only a bar away…

Long dead since 1997, a time when candy-lovin’ alternarock trio Marcy Playground was brimming with untapped potential, the beer bottles were called off the bench as Bud Bowl sat in as the substitute teacher for the real teams.   It was truly like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, but for drunks.

“My nose is red cause I’m half in the bag!”

The bottles tossed on the teams’ uniforms, and no one in the massive Arizona crowd was the wiser.  Nearly sixty minutes of play time and we all know what happened next-   Ale-I Manning to Beer David Tyree (what a good pick in the draft), the miraculous helmet catch, and a near-perfect season for New England ended in an 18-1 conclusion, as the bottled Big Blue were swimming in confetti in the Big Apple soon after.

No feelings were bottled-up in this game…

Understandably, in Massachusetts, spirits were wicked low, and where did they go?  To a bar of course.  NORM!

“Sammy, I’ve told you for years that beer saves all.”

——————————————

5.  SUPER BOWL XLIV: GAME MVP- ABE LINCOLN

Four Scores!  … and seven years ago.

 

For a few brief hours, the “L” in NFL stood for Lincoln.

We all know Abraham Lincoln was a president, emancipator, and a vampire hunter, but do you remember Abe’s big-time appearance in the Super Bowl?

The bearded one was called in to play when Peyton Manning had to leave the game early to film an impromptu Kraft Macaroni and Cheese commercial.   He ran out, flying past the cheerleaders, zooming by the mascots, with the glisten of anger in his eyes, sweat on his brow, and a chin beard so mighty, the heavens above stopped to gaze in majestic awe.

The stovetop hat was thrown down, the shoulder pads were thrust on, and that pigskin flew like you wouldn’t believe.  It was going perfect, until… clumsy ox Drew Brees went down with a pulled hamstring on the slippery turf.  And being the helpful chap he is, ‘ol Honest Abe took the reigns and stood in for him as well, changing uniforms as the Colts defensive squad ran out.

He abolished the slaves, and demolished the Colts…

As the clock struck zero, the Big Easy soon was celebrating with the sounds of jazz and firey-cajun food up the wazoo as Abe Lincoln received an early birthday gift- a declaration as Super Bowl MVP.

It was rumored plentiful posterior-ed socialite Kim Kardashian emancipated her relationship with then-Saints running back, Reggie Bush, that night to lock lips with the sixteenth prez.

And how did A-Linc become so good at football? 

Just how you get to Carnegie Hall…  Practice.

Note:  Sadly, Lincoln’s pro-career was cut short the following pre-season when Ravens linebacker John Wilkes Booth broke Lincoln’s legs.

————–

Enjoy your Super Bowl weekend!  As usual, please Fed-Ex any uneaten chicken wings to me. 

The New Holiday Game Sweeping the Globe: Santa, Wilford Brimley or ZZ Top… NAME… THAT… BEARD!

By Andrew Blumetti

WARNING:  The following game may cause you to shout, cry, and pout.  Your standing on Santa’s list may be in jeopardy.  Proceed with the utmost caution.

————————–

Those feathery turkey decorations are stored away in the dusty attic for another 11 months, your third helping of thrice-reheated leftovers has caused you to punch an embarassing homemade extra “fat hole” in your belt with a Phillips-head screwdriver, and the swelling from that Black Friday “grab at flatscreen TV” bruise on your upper arm has finally started to subside.  There may have been lots of commercials on TV for a month now, but it’s time for the rest of us to catch up– Christmastime is here, and it’s here with the animalistic force of Miley Cyrus’s slimy tongue itching to bust out of her pot smoke-filled piehole.

You can kick your eggnog and wreaths to the curb, cause really, when you think about it, what spells out the holiday season more than blog posts?  In a short answer:  Nothing.

So join me in pouring yourself a bowl of Christmas Crunch…  (This was my actual meal while typing this)

turn up some Yuletide tunes as you read (feel free to play it while reading to complete the full holiday mood)…  

…and grab a front seat on the Polar Express as it derails stops through Nonsenseville, because it’s time to spend the holidays the way your grandparents did… guessing men’s facial hair. 

———————

‘DA RULES:  A series of ten closeup white and wispy whiskers will be presented.  Simply grab a piece of paper and a pen, jot down your choice if said beard/mustache grew out of the chubby face of Santa Claus, Wilford Brimley or one of the members of ZZ Top.  Below the tenth beard will be the answer key including links to the full pictures.  Match up your answers, and see how you scored!

But first, here’s a crash refresher course of our fully-folically-faced festive fellas:

SANTA CLAUS

ALSO KNOWN AS:  Kris Kringle, St. Nicholas, Sandy Claws (according to Jack Skellington)

NOTABLE WORKS:  Flying around the planet in one evening with gravity-defying caribou, that cherub-faced Cabbage Patch Kid under your tree back in ’86, inadvertently cleaning the soot from your chimney with his big round rump on a yearly basis

GUILTY PLEASURE FILMS: Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, Hostel Part III, Shakes the Clown

———-

WILFORD BRIMLEY

ALSO KNOWN AS:  The guy with that obnoxiously bushy mustache from the Diabetes commercials who may or may not have a mouth underneath that enormous thing.

NOTABLE WORKS:  Cocoon, The Thing, that one episode of Seinfeld

FAVORITE DANCES:  twerking, the Harlem Shake, crumping, the Lindy Hop

————-

ZZ TOP

ALSO KNOWN AS:  Two guys with the Yosemite Sam-ish beards and the other guy who owns a razor. They’re the reason you gotta scroll all the way down to the bottom of your artist list on your iPod.

NOTABLE WORKS:  “Legs”, “Sharp Dressed Man”, the soundtrack from Alvin and the Chipmunks:  The Squeakquel

STRANGEST THINGS FOUND IN BEARDS:  Golden Grahams, the GEICO lizard, the fourth member of ZZ Top

——————————-

… And hair we go!

 

BEARD #1

On Christmas Eve, maybe these snowy hued bristles will bring you a shiny new bicycle…  or rip a killer guitar solo… or lecture you about DI-A-BEE-TUS.

————————–

BEARD #2

There’s a fine line between scary pigeon-eating bum and beloved holiday icon, and this hairy dude lives smack on it…

BEARD # 3

This is a bigger beard than George Clooney’s girlfriend!

————————

BEARD #4

Word on the snowy street has it that the owner of this killer soup-strainer has been known to do an emergency darkening-by-soy-sauce to impress the waitresses at Benihana.

———————–

BEARD #5

Holiday Season PSA:  Don’t randomly go sitting on the lap of any guy with a big white beard.  That is quite uncomfortable for all parties involved.

——————-

BEARD #6

This guy celebrates “No Shave November”.  If by “November”, you mean the last 40 years…

————————–

BEARD #7

Boy Scout hint: With facial hair this mammoth, just add a little toothpaste and you’ve always got a permanent toothbrush on your face!

Man, that was gross.

———————-

BEARD #8

♪ “I’m dreaming of a white mustache!”  ♪

————–

BEARD #9

The Dos Equis “Most Interesting Man in the World” guy has a lawsuit against this man.  It’s going to get U-G-L-Y in court.

———————-

BEARD #10

This beard is whiter than an R.E.M. concert!

——————————————

ANSWER KEY

1.  Don’t get too comfortable just yet, this starter question was a gift from the rolly-polly round man himself, Santa Claus.

2.  It’s a freezing December 24th evening, the flickering candlelights are dimmed and the powdery snow is falling making the front lawn look like Lindsay Lohan’s car dashboard…  you wait impatiently, tucked under the cozy wool covers, with the anticipation of what’s to come.  Then suddenly, wait… what’s that?!?  It’s the sound of merry jingle bells, the pitter-patter of dancing reindeer hooves on the roof, and the familiar sounds of… blues rock??  Better hope Dusty Hill of ZZ Top left some receipts for you to return the awkward presents he left under the tree.  Seriously?  Old Hooters calendars from 1988? Get outta here.

3.  Sure there’s plenty of fat guys hanging around the mall, but at least this one isn’t awkwardly oogling the cute girl who works at Cinnabon… well at least when Mrs. Claus isn’t looking.  Santa’s the man here.

4.  You’re too smart to fall for this clever ruse… they don’t serve oatmeal at Benihana!  Brimley it is!

5.  Bad news:  If you get more than three questions wrong here, you have to eat your dinner off of ZZ Top’s beard.

6.  You know what The Thing actually was, right?  Wilford Brimley’s broom-worthy ‘stache. 

7.  No, no, I thought it was Pauly Shore too, but it’s actually the jolly ‘ol man himself.  I just don’t know what to believe anymore either.

8.  With winter right around the corner, it may be a bit too chilly to visit the zoo, but right here, you can always view the human walrus himself, Wilford Brimley. 

9.  He spends half his day scraping Rudolph poop off the bottom of his boots, yes it’s Kris Kringle!

10. Wait, are Kim Kardashian, Miley Cyrus and Paris Hilton standing together in a row?  Cause Santa is saying Ho Ho Ho!

————————-

Share your score in the comments below.   Also, here is the contact information for Hasbro, let’s get this on the shelves next to Monopoly next year!  Or even one shelf, I’m not greedy!

“Hey, I have an old white mustache too ya jerk!”

A Very McRib Halloween!

Written and illustrated by Andrew Blumetti BOOMETTI

Holy moly on toast, we’re finally here!

Before our mouths start watering for delicious turkeys and the stores become packed to the brim with mistletoe and holly, we still have enough gas in the tank for one last spooky blast on this lovely October 31st.

But… well… did you notice something is a bit different?   Call me nuts, but I’ve got that sinking feeling something just doesn’t feel totally right.  Kind of like when Urkel’s voice hit puberty and that squeak of his soon morphed into a sound one would best describe as an alley cat vomiting on top another alley cat vomiting on a hobo being run over by a street sweeper playing Nickelback at full volume.

Let’s do a checklist…

1. Bags of candy are ready for the trick-or-treaters?  CHECK.
2. Is my Halloween display is at full tilt?  CHECK.
3. Have I now eaten all of said bags of candy, leaving the trick-or-treaters crap outta luck?  DOUBLE CHECK.

Well, that survey is clearly air tight… so why does it feel like something’s simply off this October?  Reminds me of when they switched Harleys on Boy Meets World for one episode, not thinking we’d even notice.

“Dear Adam Scott, please get me an autograph from Ron Swanson.“
Thank you,
Original Harley

Wait a pumpkin pickin’ minute…

EUREKA!  Much like Catherine O’Hara finally realizing she left Kevin McCallister at home by himself for Christmas, it’s hit me!

WHERE’S THE FREAKIN’ McRIB?!?

It’s been an oh-so tasty October tradition for years as those McDonald’s golden arches become a bit more greasy shinier when our collective mouthbuds salivate in all their fast food barbecue-y glory at the sight of this limited-time-menu item.

Never before have sauce-slathered pork, pickles and onions created such a rabid cult following, as rib-heads chase this high-caloric thing around the country as if Jerry Garcia was wailing away on it with his nine-and-a-half fingers.

Wait, I’M Jerry Garcia?!?  Man, am I fried! 

Usually, the phantom sandwich nestles it’s way into our beating hearts for just a few short delicious weeks, eventually rushing back into hibernation for another agonizing 11-months that we have to live with just stupid regular food.

In 2012, the Mickey-D’s powers-that-be ponderously decided to delay the McRib’s usual autumn release until December, to strengthen a usually slow-sales period, help anticipation grow, and make Santa even fatter. 

So far, the porkless wait is excruciating as this fall seems to be following the same test-your-fast food-patience pattern as last year, although according to Facebook’s McRib Locator, this currently flatlined ribless-autumn may finally have a blip of a heartbeat as elusive scattered McRib sightings have started showing up in select states. Hopefully leading into what hopefully will be a full-scale release before year’s end so I won’t have to keep writing weekly angry letters to the Hamburglar.

So, it makes you wonder… with all this newly-found time off, just how has the McRib been spending his downtime this Halloween season?

Lucky for us, the aggressive paparazzi never sleeps a wink, and being the invasive monsters they are, TMZ happened to snap a few pictures of just what happens when mass-produced pork has the time of its McLife.

Strap in folks, things are gonna get saucy …

———————————————-

• You can believe McRib’s shaking in his boots watching things go bump in the night in during a Paranormal Activity marathon…

————————————————

• Everyone knows no Halloween season is complete without going all horror punk and blasting some Misfits.
• His playlist:

1. “HyRIB Moments”
2. “Return of the Fries”
3. “We Are 13-Ate”
   

—————————————-

• One cult following meets another as McRib crossdresses and hits up a midnight showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show…

———————————————————————

• The horror!   Ribby’s spilled his Dunkin’ Donuts pumpkin coffee!!

——————————————————-

• Too many Snickers!!   C’mon McRib, lay off the Halloween candy!

———————————————

• Finally, no proper Halloween is complete without spookin’ your McDonald’s brethren as the McRib zombie.  Behold… THE WALKING BREAD!!!
  

————————–

Have a safe, happy, and sugary Halloween everyone!  It’s been a fun month, and a blast to celebrate with all of you.  Catch ya in November!

–Andrew

Blumes’s Misleading Halloween Party Playlist

By Andrew Blumetti

Was your Columbus Day party as lame as mine?

Sure, the Nina, Pinta and Santa Maria chili dips burned, and the bowl full of 1,492 olives ended up being a colossal waste of money, but your heart was in the right place, wasn’t it?

And how on the face of great, green Planet Earth you were able to get more suckers guests to give you a second chance only a few weeks later for your Halloween shindig makes you think something’s gotta be in the water supply.

But nonetheless, here’s your chance to make things right.  Dim the lights, toss up some icky cobwebs, a few delightfully horrific decorations, a delicious hors d’oeuvres platter of Halloweenies or Zombielamb-chops, and before you know it, folks on both sides of the Mason Dixon line will be waxing poetic about the triumphant haunted hootenanny you threw that fateful evening of October 31st in the year 2013.

Well, not so fast there chief.  Without some quality rump shakin’ tunes, they ain’t gonna be fawning like rabid Justin Bieber fans just yet.  Those fellas didn’t dress up as rootin’ tootin’ cowboys, and those ladies didn’t starve themselves for two weeks and squeeze themselves into skin-tight slutty cop costumes just to stand there in your living room like lazy lumps on a log.

“This party DOESN’T have the right to remain silent!”

Well, take it from me, if you don’t want your gussied-up guests to go stormin’ out the front door before the steaming hot Pieday the 13ths hit the table, certainly don’t pick your songs based solely on title or artist name alone.  It turns ugly, and it turns ugly fast.  

Case in point:  My 2012 party soundtrack…

—————————-

TRACK #1:  THE CRANBERRIES- “Zombie”

This might be of Eminem, I cannot fully be sure.  

Listen to it here.

What you expect:  A decrepit hand breaks the cold cemetery soil, as dozens of flesh-hungry dead cannibals rise to their rotting feet, black-tongued and blood-filled mouths, groaning the words, “do you have to let lingerrrrrrrr…”

What you get:  Not nearly as Walking Dead-ish as the title would suggest, this excellent mid-90’s alt rock staple is a protest song surrounding the violence and unrest in Northern Ireland, inspired by the 1993 IRA bombing in Warrington, Cheshire.  Don’t use it at your Halloween party, you’ll look like an insensitive dunce.

Rick and roll!

————————————-

TRACK #2:  FRANK SINATRA- “I’ve Got You Under My Skin”

“Hey punk, don’t use my song at your party, or I’ll clean your clock.”

Take a listen here.

What you expect:  Your mind races and your nerves tremble as the padded walls of the nuthouse close in on you faster and faster.  Is your cracking brain playing tricks on you?  Maybe, look at your skin crawl after all– it could be festering bugs laying their eggs, it could be a deadly disease rotting you from the inside out, or it could be a mean prank that wisenhimer Dean Martin played on you when you were using the bathroom.  The line between madness and reality is blurring faster than ‘Ol Blue Eyes’ vision, eight drinks in, at a hotel bar following a Saturday night show.

What you get:  Some feel it’s about the drink, but the popular and direct interpretation of this Sinatra favorite is likely about the all-powerful pull of love and attraction.  That overwhelming feeling when you just can’t get that special person out of your mind and heart.  Just the same way I feel about Pauly Shore.

“I love you too, budddddday.”

—————————–

TRACK #3:  FOREIGNER- “Hot Blooded”

“DOWN WITH SLEEVES!”

I guess you could listen to it here.  If you really wanna…

What you expect:  Laying in the cold bed in the harshly-lit infirmary, the soundtrack to your horrific stay is riddled with coughing and phlegm-filled hacking from fellow bedridden sickies.  Your poor head is throbbing like the Dickens, and your blood is on the verge of boiling right there in your freakin’ veins.  Your now pale complexion is drained of all discernible color and each agonizing minute of this agonizing pain feels one step closer to grim death.

What you get:  “A fever of wait… 103°”?!?  Oh for God’s sake.

True, it’s certainly no walk in the park, but that doesn’t necessarily throw you into the depths of certain doom.  It more than likely throws you into a doctor’s office to get some orders to take a few Advil and chug some more liquids.   But you have to pay full price for your office visit because the Obamacare website IS DOWN!!!!   THE HORROR!!!

“STUPID ERROR 404!!!”

—————————

TRACK #4:  CURTIS MAYFIELD- “Freddie’s Dead”

This is how many times Curtis Mayfield’s estate is going to sue me for using his name in this article.

Get down and check it out here.

What you expect:  “One, two, Freddy’s coming for you…” 

You can finally sleep sound as your once-terrorized dreams have become much safer.  Sadistic, striped-sweatered-sleeping slayer, Freddy Krueger, has finally met his maker, as his blood-covered razor-fingers lie next to his putrid, rotting corpse, never to destroy your nightmares again.

He was also mad Curtis Mayfield misspelled his name in the title, but hey, Freddy’s got some anger issues.

What you get:  A song about the death of “Fat Freddie”, a character from 70’s Blaxploitation film, Super Fly (the song appeared on the film’s soundtrack).  That’s what eating at Heart Attack Grill every day will do to ya, Freddie.

“I don’t need you Mayfield, I’ll just make my own song!”

————————————–

TRACK #5:  RADIOHEAD- “Creep”

Radiohead is one of my all-time favorites, but this song about the Itsy-Bisty Spider just came off as pretentious.

You don’t belong here, you should be here, listening to this song.

What you expect:  What’s that?   Look outside your window.   Is someone outside?

There’s a full moon out on an icy-cold Halloween eve.  The rustling sounds in the bushes are sending a chill up your spine and making your heart race faster than Miley Cyrus shedding her clothes the second she sees a camera flash.  Is a crazy axe murderer outside?  Maybe a blood-thirsty werewolf?  Terrifying little kids with those orange boxes collecting for UNICEF?!?

What you get:  Oh Thom, you silly goose, you’re not creepy.  We love you, and your lazy-eye, and your weirdo “bacon sizzling in a frying pan” freakout dancing on stage.  False alarm people, false alarm.

Safety tip from Blumes:   Wondering if annoying hipsters have been stalking you from your window?  Look for the empty Pabst Blue Ribbon cans and empty tins of mustache wax littered on the ground. 

“I bought non-perscription glasses with extra-thick frames, just so I could spy on you better.”

—————————————

TRACK #6:  CUTTING CREW- “(I Just) Died in Your Arms Tonight”

“When we go to the barber, we just say, ‘Gimme whatever semi-modish 80’s hairdo the rest of the band is wearing'”.

Insomniacs rejoice!  Pretend you’re watching a late night “Best Love Song Hits” CD commercial here.

What you expect:  (The closing minutes of a slasher horror movie)– post serial killer attack, lots coughing up blood, gasping for many last breaths, dramatic music, and a final pleading to make it out alive.  Note:  The black guy died early on in the film.  Way to fall into lazy stereotypes, fictional movie that I just made up.

What you get:   Soft rock-   heavy on the soft, light on the rock.  When you’re 45-minutes into a wait at the eye doctor’s office for your semi-annual checkup, reading a wrinkled, old Entertainment Weekly magazine with Ruben Studdard on the cover, this is the ballad that’s likely being played on the radio.  This is the band even Spandau Ballet bullies around while on tour.

“Hey you Cutting Crew fruits, shut up, give us your lunch money and all the crates of mousse that you have.”

—————————————-

TRACK #7:  THE FUGEES- “Killing Me Softly”

Apparently the ceiling fan was really interesting to stare at.

What you expect:  Under soft candlelight and the comforting crackles of a cozy fireplace, a bewitching murderer cranks up the charm, wining and dining his ill-fated victims seconds before the tapered knife is revealed and the cozy-bearskin rug is horrifically painted with splashes of crimson.

What you get:  A mid-90’s cover of the Roberta Flack hit that the DJ played at our “Class Night” dinner in senior year of high school.  Aside from making me realize that I’m old enough to remember when Pras actually had a career, it’s not really scary.  

Blumes note:  In searching for a picture of Lauryn Hill, the Google search accidentally brought up, “Lauren, Hills”.  This is not Lauryn Hill. 

“I am so Lauryn Hill! Heidi Montag stole my Grammys, and hid them in her shirt!”

—————————————

(The remaining tracks apply to any song by these deceptively scary-sounding artists with not-so scary music…)

—————————————

TRACK #8:  ANY SONG BY 10,000 MANIACS

“Have you ever noticed that anybody driving slower than you is an idiot, and anyone going faster than you is a maniac?”– George Carlin

Go ahead, be 10,001 right here.

What you expect:  In 1964, a splatter film, Two Thousand Maniacs! was released.  A film “gruesomely stained in blood color!” about Yankee tourists humiliated and hacked to bits by murderous rednecks in the Deep South (the film was remade 40 years later by Robert “Freddy Krueger” Englund” as 2001 Maniacs).  This band must be FIVE TIMES more insane than that!  Scary math!  

What you get:  Nope.  This band should’ve been called, “10,000 White People Who Shop at Banana Republic”, and even then, the math is still very suspect.  And I shop there too.

“Breaking MTV News! Natalie Merchant buys ANOTHER wool jacket!”

——————————-

TRACK #9:  ANY SONG BY FINE YOUNG CANNIBALS

FINE. YOUNG. CANNIBALS. —– I basically can find three things wrong with that name.

Don’t drive yourself crazy, relive the 90’s here.

What you expect:  Hannibal Lecter with a Fender Strat and the most bizarre tour rider ever (when he requests an “Arnold Palmer”, you can be sure he’s not talking about the beverage).

What you get:  Probably the most misleading name on this whole list, these 90’s one-hit-wonders conjure up the image of an opening act for Slayer, constantly headbanging and hair-swirling to legions of fans, with beer in their bellies and their tattooed fists in the air.  How many teenagers were forbid from picking up this CD (no doubt in one of these old-fashioned longbox compact disc packages), due to their frightening-sounding name?

More like “Can’t-ibbals”, AMIRIGHT?!?

——————————

TRACK #10:  ANY SONG BY THE KILLERS

Blumes note: The original name of The Killers was “Hans Solo and Three Disinterested Guys“.

You know the drill.

What you expect:  The prison jug band Charles Manson put together.

What you get:  Incredibly popular 21st Century Las Vegas-based alternative band who took their moniker from a New Order video, which may be the least-terrifying way to name your band.   Take it from me and my new band, Blumes Monday, whose new album will be out in 2016.

“I don’t care what The David Berkowitz Trio says, we’re headlining BOTH prison festivals this year- Co-Cell-a, and Jail-apalooza.  I’m not crazy, I’m God.  YOU’RE crazy.”

——————————

TRACK #11:  ANY SONG BY MURDER BY DEATH

Hip-hip-hooray for ½-priced day at Pocket Watches ‘Я Us!

Take a break from all that candy eatin’ and listen here.

What you expect:  Well, basically, the band who’d be opening for Fine Young Cannibals, who are opening for Slayer.   Murder and death in one band name?  Bloody Halloween metal up yo tuckus!

What you get:  This talented Bloomington, Indiana-based indie act, with a highly-deceiving name taken a 1976 Robert Moore whodunit comedy, summons the uncanny sound of folky alt-country, drenched in a whiskey-soaked marriage of Johnny Cash and Nick Cave, all taking place in a haunted 19th-Century saloon.

Actually, maybe this would fit in well, tell me this isn’t the stuff October nightmares are made of…

Johnny Cash says, “Catpy Halloween!“

Horror Villains Celebrate Halloween: THE FINALE!!

Illustrated by Andrew Blumetti

—————————-

… What happens when your favorite film ghouls break the bank at Party City?

… How many fun-size Snickers bars can Ghostface fit into his mouth at one time?

… Just HOW many costumes did Jason actually buy this year?

The answers to those questions …AND MORE* will be answered right now in the thrilling* conclusion of what happens when treats and tricks meet your favorite flicks.

* (Probably not too likely…)

* (Again, fat chance that’s true…)

If you missed out on the moderate chuckles, part one and part two can be viewed here.

—————————–

ALIEN QUEEN (Alien) as MILEY CYRUS

————————–

THE INFECTED (28 Days Later) as CRAYOLA CRAYONS

—————————–

GHOSTFACE (Scream) as SURPRISED TAYLOR SWIFT WINNING AN AWARD

———————————

THE GOVERNOR (The Walking Dead) as A CANDY CRUSH SAGA BOARD

——————————–

TARMAN ZOMBIE (The Return of the Living Dead) as KURT COBAIN

——————————

KAYAKO SAEKI (The Grudge) as A DALLAS COWBOYS CHEERLEADER

————————–

DRACULA (Bram Stoker’s Dracula) as PIZZA

——————————–

EVIL ED (Fright Night) as AL FROM HOME IMPROVEMENT

—————————–

OOGIE BOOGIE (The Nightmare Before Christmas) as WOODY FROM TOY STORY

———————————-

FREDDY KRUEGER (A Nightmare on Elm Street) and JASON VOORHEES (Friday the 13th) as WAYNE AND GARTH

—————————–

Bizarro Candy Corn!

Illustrated by Andrew Blumetti

Fridge Over Troubled Water!– Food That Looks Like Simon & Garfunkel

By Andrew Blumetti

(insert obnoxious microphone feedback)

Testing, testing… Hello hello all!

Let me be the first to wish a very happy Wednesday to all reading.

So how are all you excellent people in Blogland doing?   If I may say so myself, you’re all looking extra fantastic, as I hope this late September day is treating you not just super, but super-duperly.

I realize the title to this post seems particularly odd, (even by the standards of a blog that featured posts about both Kato Kaelin and Frankenberry last week) but your good buddy Blumes would like to have a split second of your time, to ask a quick favor of you.

Just a simple show of hands will do the trick, and we can get this show on the road.

Everyone currently reading who’s played a show at the famous Great Lawn in Central Park to half a million adoring fans, please raise your hand.

…

…

Ok, put your hand down you wisenheimers.

…well, unless you happen to be Paul Simon or Art Garfunkel, then by all means leave it up.

But I highly doubt that’s the case here though, Garfunkel is only a casual reader of my blog at best.

(In order of ascending height:  Paul Simon, Art Garfunkel, a fern, Art Garfunkel’s ‘fro.) 

The classic folk-pop duo of Simon & Garfunkel are universally heralded as one of the quintessential music acts of the 1960’s–  a decade already chock full of some of the most iconic and critically acclaimed music ever created.

They will forever be synonymous with 1967’s Dustin Hoffman-riffic cinematic gem, (wait… sorry, I meant this one) The Graduate, and sculpting the soundtrack of a changing generation at a turbulent time in American history, whose sugary-sweet harmonies, catchy-as-a-cold choruses, and gently strummed guitar chords resonate with listeners nearly five decades later.

Yes, simply stated, a man with a head of Brill-on-growth-hormones and his foot-shorter band-mate are truly an American musical treasure whose majestic voices will be their everlasting legacy.

The Hamburglar… UNMASKED!

Well, the general rule of this absurd blog is to take something of grandeur, unspeakable talent, and immense cultural success and pretty much give it a sloppy boys’ room swirlie and lower it to a fourth-grade level of humor.

So without any further koo-koo-ka-choo-ado, I now present “art of Art”…  a treat for both the ear and taste buds.  Let’s put the fun in Garfunkel, cause it’s…

“FOOD THAT LOOKS LIKE SIMON & GARFUNKEL”

————————————————-

COURSE #1:  LEAVES THAT ARE GREEN

Sad but true, none of us are getting any younger, and as time goes by, we just can’t gobble down delicious Burger King every night anymore like we used to.  Do your aching body a favor and start your meal off right with nature’s vitamin-filled gift to us: healthy, fresh picked vegetables.

Plus, this veggie version of Simon and Garfunkel can help us remember the salad days of meaningful fork… err… folk rock.

——————————————————

COURSE #2:  STILL CRAZY AFTER ALL THESE BEERS!

For those of you who scoff at the idea of a boring healthy salad, we’ve got a deep-fried treat for you…

Kick back at your favorite watering hole, order an ice-cold bottle of suds, some steaming hot Buffalo wings, and enjoy the kickoff in high-style with this tasty Sim-Funk treat.  Just make sure your favorite team doesn’t Garfumble. 

Blumes note:   Hooters, please call me or Paul Simon to work this idea into a promotion.  Or Hooters waitresses- you can call me too…  either way.

————————————————————

COURSE #3:  TREATS AT THE SCARBOROUGH FAIR

As Autumn finally takes flight, evening chills kick in, replacing balmy summer’s flip flops and light shorts with warm, cozy sweatshirts and fuzzy slippers.

…but fret not warmth lovers, you don’t have to say adios to summer just yet when there’s this fluffy Garfunkel cotton candy and sticky Simon candy apple to keep you company, reminding you of festive carnival nights, deep into the chilly pumpkin season.

Can’t you just picture the greasy carnies and Tilt-a-Whirl of questionable quality already? 

 

——————————————————-

COURSE #4:  BAKERY BOOKENDS

Cavity alert! 

Notorious stick-in-the-mud, Dr. Oz, might condescendingly wave his junk-food-hating finger to warn you of this code-red caloric duo, but if your sweet tooth can resist this dessert-y Art and Paul, you’ve got more willpower than I do.

——————————————-
COURSE #5:  THE SALTS OF SILENCE

Q:  What’s drier than the humor of a British-sitcom?

A:  Your parched throat when you scarf down endless handfuls of these delicious folky snacks.

Just don’t forget… once you pop, you can’t stop, especially if it’s these heavenly folded-up types of potato chips.   Simon says:  slow down!

 

———————————————————-

COURSE #6:  I AM A ROCKY ROAD

Now we all know where Joe Dimaggio went… to get some relief for a nasty brain freeze.

Tongue on the roof of your mouth Joe D., tongue on the roof of your mouth!

——————————————
Encore! Encore! I mean leftovers!

“Call me short ONE MORE TIME… I dare ya!”

Three Scare Meals a Day: Everything You Never Wanted to Know About Count Chocula, Boo Berry, and Frankenberry

By Andrew Blumetti

As the once fresh-green leaves begin their inevitable journey to crunchy Orangeland and Yellowville, and the mercury on the thermometer drops while the daily dose of white girls in yoga pants fawning over Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte on Facebook shoots up, there’s no denying it any further ladies and germs-  We are in full autumnal mode.

A season I never was super crazy about as a child, (what red-blooded kid really likes the carefree summer ending and school to start again?) years later, I absolutely love this time of year.

There’s a refreshing crispness to the cool evening air, football season is in full burst, fresh-pressed apple cider is on every shelf, and Halloween season, my favorite holiday, is ramping up speed.   Chock full of creepy haunted houses, blood-curdling horror flicks, just-carved pumpkins, and spooky decorations as far as the eye can see…

…and don’t think your the walls of your local supermarket can keep you safe. 

Rise and shine, wipe the gross eye-gunk out and look twice in the morning, cause your simple breakfast is now in danger.

The “Monster Cereals” have once again been unleashed upon us–  a classic line of cereal created by General Mills, complete with a cult following, found annually on store shelves from September through Halloween.  At one time produced year round, they now are only available seasonally during the fall, just in time to make Tony the Tiger run for the hills and Snap, Crackle and Pop shake in their sugary britches.

———————————-

CHAPTER I:  MEET THE GOBLINS YOU’LL BE GOBBLIN’

COUNT CHOCULA:  Vampires drinking blood is sooo Twilight, cause this fanged-fiend has a Sweet Nosferatooth.  His cape is nearly indistinguishable from his hair, he’s got a Barbara Streisand nose, square buck-teeth fangs, and “hunka-hunka burnin’ love” sideburns that’d make Uncle Jesse green with envy.  Get your daily dose of Bran Stokers!

 

 

BOO BERRY:  Get your spoooooooooooon ready this moaning, cause it’s paranormal snacktivity time when this blueberry ghoul fills your bowl.  While his snazzy bowtie and hat may scream out “1920’s jazz musician”, it’s you who will be screaming when this always-tired looking poltergeist joins you at the breakfast table.

 

FRANKENBERRY:  With all those gears, clocks and whistles on his head, he looks like a steampunker straight out of Victoria’s Secret, but this Pepto Bismol-y hellion is anything but.  Flamboyantly tasty, this strawberry Frankenstein is “igor” to make your breakfast frighteningly delicious.

 

——————————————

CHAPTER II:   HOLY CRAP!  THE LEGEND OF FRANKENBERRY STOOL

Take a trip back to the early 70’s…. Once upon a time, when disco reigned king, lava lamps had yet to become “retro”, and Cher had less fake body parts…

After the introduction of Frankenberry, the bloody-good cereal caused some unexpected and jarring scares to moms and dads nationwide…

As the tale goes, the mad scientists from the spooky lab at General Mills used a certain red dye to give the cereal its trademark color.  Frankenstein had his final revenge on the living as said red dye didn’t fully break down in the human body, and the pinkish scare parents received during potty time became an unintended hilarious result infamously known as “Frankenberry stool”.

The braintrust at General Mills wisely decided this “my cereal’s turning my poop red” press wasn’t a wise marketing move, and have since changed the boo poo formula to a more stomach-friendly dye.

————————————-

CHAPTER III:  THE MONSTERS HAVE RECORD SALES!

I always thought my parents’ old Elvis records were a collector’s dream, but if you’re a true vinyl lover, your wax collection isn’t close to complete without off-tune breakfast ghouls serenading you.

Presented here, for your listening enjoyment, is one of a line of free records included with the cereal, entitled The Monsters Go Disco.

We’re still holding our breath on that ghastly  cover of “I Will Survive”, but in the meantime, fasten your bell bottoms, here’s a taste of campy monsters gone campier:

———————————

 

 

CHAPTER IV:  QUENTIN TARANTINO AND FRUIT BRUTE-  A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN

People of Internet Land, meet Fruit Brute…

Upon first glance, this hairy Halloween hooligan may not be instantly recognizable as a household name.

There must be a full moon out because here’s a fruit-lovin’ werewolf who met his eventual discontinuation in 1983.  Much how John Travolta’s sinking career was thrown a grindhouse-y life preserver from director Quentin Tarantino, he also attempted to toss one to the Brute, as an old cereal box made a cameo appearance in some of QT’s most prolific films from the 90’s:

Here’s his appearance in with Lance, a mangy heroin dealer in 1994’s Pulp Fiction:

…and with Mr. Orange in 1992’s Reservoir Dogs:

“Are you gonna bark all day little Brute-y, or are you gonna bite?” 

—————————————

CHAPTER V:  THAT CRUMMY DUMMY NAMED FRUITY YUMMY MUMMY

 

To fill the void of those who love fruit cereal and missed the ‘Brute, “Fruity Yummy Mummy” was introduced to a yearning public.

You’d think calling a character fruity might be a bit politically incorrect, but it pales in comparison to his originally offensive moniker, “Wrapped-Up Flamer”.

Much like The Mummy films, public interest was tepid at best.  Production “wrapped up” on Fruity Yummy Mummy as he joined the Brute in the cereal graveyard in 1993.

but…

As the old saying goes, “everything old is new again”.

On a stormy, cold, early autumn evening, as the howling wind blew the rickety shutters around like a worn-out ragdoll, it was said that a unkempt cherry-scented paw and a decrepit fruity wrapped hand both broke open the foggy, cold cemetery ground and rose up from their breakfast graves, shambled past the chipped, weathered headstones of “Nerds Cereal” and “French Toast Crunch” …

…and then they traveled into your local supermarket. 

Tell your milk to suck it up and get ready for a crap-your-pants scare.  2013 marks the long-awaited return of both Fruit Brute and Fruity Yummy Mummy to store shelves.

 

The Smiths may never get back together, but this is a pretty close second place. 

 

 

——————————————

CHAPTER VI:  TATBOO!!

A rabid cult following often leads to obsessive behavior-  fanatics still line up for midnight showings of The Rocky Horror Picture show, and diehards camp outside McDonald’s for the yearly appearance of the fast food Bigfoot known as the McRib.   Keep that in mind when the next time you come between a man and his breakfast food…

Skulls, crosses and heart tattoos are too pedestrian for these inked-up cerealites, as they’ve made their love of Monster Cereals permanent.  While some monsters want to get under your skin, these monsters will have to settle for being on it.

Blumes note:  Ladies, if you dig these, let me know, I just may end up with one.

———————————-

CHAPTER VII:  PRANK CALL MATERIAL

Ever meet someone with an unfortunate last name you know they grew up being teased with?  Ask any “Tom Banana”, “Lisa Smurfs” or “Bill Spaghettios”, every day of high school ridicule must’ve been a daily nightmare.

Growing up with the surname of  “Frankenberry” couldn’t have been a jolly walk in the park either, and I’m sure all these people could testify to that fact.

LISTINGS OF LAST NAME “FRANKENBERRY” IN THE UNITED STATES:

 The Frankenberry family reunions in Pennsylvania must be a real hoot.  Every meal is pink and the three-legged race is a suspenseful thrill ride.

——————————————

CHAPTER VIII:  MOVE OVER AL ROKER

Today’s forecast calls for a 30% chance of raaaaaaaaaaainnnnn!  (Get it?  Like a zombie?)

Actually, if we were to name this after Al Roker, we’d have to call it Poo Berry.

(rimshot)

——————————————

CHAPTER IX:  COUNT ON A FIGHT!

There’s only room for one friendly non-blood sucking vampire in this town, and the eternal battle’s waged on for years.  Hide the garlic, and stay outta the sunlight, this is most likely how True Blood will end one day:

“DING DING!  Ladies and Gentlemen!  Welcome to tonight’s main event–  a fangy Battle Royale for the ages!  Two pale purgatory pugilists in a fight to the (un)death!”

“In this ring, straight from a cardboard coffin in some creepy Cocoa Transylvania, the deliciously… the chocolately…  the sideburned…  the Riboflavin-y…  Mr. Count Chocula!”

“And in this ring, hailing from Sesame Street- he’s lilac-colored, he’s got eight total fingers, he’s good with numbers, and he’s got Snuffleupagus poop on the bottom of his shoe…  it’s Count Von Count!”

Frightened readers, it was said the infamous vampire battle went on for hours.  So long, Abraham Lincoln and Buffy even konked out and lost the urge to slay them.  In the end, it was Sesame Street Count who reigned victorious…

in one round, two rounds, ha ha ha…

“Number One baby!”

———————————

CHAPTER X:  COUNT CHOCULA AND FRANKENBERRY WERE CROSSDRESSERS

They wore the same thing!  How embarrassing…

Ru-Paul made a living out of dressing like a woman, but when it comes to dress-wearing, these bozos oughta stick to their day jobs.   But I guess if it’s good enough for J. Edgar Hoover, it’s good enough for them.

Blumes note:  Tell me you weren’t thinking Frankenberry looks like Charles Nelson Reilly.

————————-

Come As You Arf! Celebrating Dog Nirvana

By Andrew Blumetti

The Bad News:  You look at your calendar and reality sinks in like a cold bath that it’s officially now deep into 2013.  That means twenty years ago, 90’s Seattle-alterna-rock legends Nirvana were probably sick of playing “Smells Like Teen Spirit” on a nightly basis at this point already.

The Good News:  In dog years, that’s 140 years, so when you think about it, we’re not really that old.

Now that has been established, here’s my attempt to not lift my leg on one of the all-time great rock bands in history.  It may or may not have worked.

——————————————-

 

“When I swear that I don’t have a bone!” 

 

———————————————————————

 

 

 

Krist playing bass during “Milk (Bone) It”

 

———————————————

 

 

Courtney Love wasn’t the only dog in that relationship.

 

—————————————————-

 

 

A dog’s least favorite song on this record? 

 

“Train You”

 

—————————————————

 

 

Grrrrrr-ohl.

 

————————————————

 

 

From the MTV Unplugged concert, an acoustic version of David Bowie’s “The Doberman Who Sold the World”.

 

——————————————-

 

 

One of Nirvana’s classics, “Heart Shaped Barks”