Words Fail Me…
April 30, 2010
Among “animal rights” (for the uninitiated: animals no only do not have rights, animals by definition cannot have rights) these days is, apparently, the right to privacy.
Words fail me…
Words Fail Me…
March 26, 2010
I’m adding “Words Fail Me…” as a new blog category, because I find this increasingly to be the case in the insane world in which we live.
So I see Blockbuster is going out of business down the street, and I decide, since I’m going to be starring as Harold Hill in The Music Man in a few weeks, to see if either the 1962 version, or the newer one with Matthew Broderick and Kristen Chenowyth, is for sale (they weren’t). But I happen down the horror aisle and catch one title that I had to grab from the shelf to see if it was honest-to-goodness for-real—and to my…horror…it was. 
Here’s the description, from Wikipedia:
And so, I’m thinking, how utterly miserable must your life be, that you’d give, what, an hour-and-a-half of it up to watch this…this…this…words fail me.
But there’s more; when I Googled it, I learned, much to my…horror…that there’s a sequel:
The Ginderdead Man 2: Passion of the Crust
But wait…there’s even more. Yes, more. Soon, we can all look forward to…yeah, you’re way ahead of me here, aren’t you?
The Gingerdead Man 3: Saturday Night Cleaver
OK, now I’ll say it:
This phrase comes from the 1978 "Jonestown massacre" in which most members of the Peoples Temple cult, blindly following their leader Jim Jones, committed suicide by drinking cyanide-laced Kool-Aid.
Osborne: A Contrarian's Guide to Knowing God
Schlossberg: Idols For Destruction
