Rob MacD

Letting Christmas Down

Sigh.

When I lived with my parents, we had an artificial tree. It wasn’t a great plastic tree, but it was all I knew. Then, when I got married, we made the leap to real trees. We didn’t go so far as to trudge into the woods and cut one down. Our Christmas Tree Hunting involved little more than, a coupla weeks before The Day, driving to the Zellers parking lot, quickly looking at a couple, picking one out and buying it.
The first number of years, I really liked the concept of the Real Tree. Tying it to the top of the car; family driving home slowly; sawing off the bottom of the trunk; lugging it in the house; sweeping up the needles; letting it settle and acclimate for a day or so; sweeping up the needles; putting lights on; sweeping up needles; watering; decorating; watering; sweeping; watering; etcetera etcetera…
I think it was last year, the tradition of ‘getting the tree’ began to wear on us. So, this year…today in fact…we made the decision to get a fake tree. It was like we were letting Christmas down. Somehow it seems like putting up a plastic tree is another nail in the coffin of the tradition of Christmas.
We got a tree that has the lights already built into it. All white lights. It’s a nice 7.5 foot plastic pine tree that actually looks pretty darn good.
There’s no smell of pine (that can be, I assume, managed with potpourri), and that’s too bad. But there’s no needles on the floor, no watering.

Christmas, I hope we haven’t let you down.

Now, That Was A Concert!

Okay, I’m granting you the chance to go back in time, to any place in the world, to any time in the 20th century to witness your favourite band/performer play one song live in concert. You will arrive in mid-concert amid the crowd already there, two minutes before the artist plays the song you chose, and then leave two minutes after the song is over.
You have to tell me who the artist is, where (time and place) the venue is, and what the song is. I’ll even let you give me three choices. The best one choice gets to go.

My three choices are:

1) The Beatles in The Cavern in Liverpool in 1963 performing “Twist and Shout”
2) The Clash in any venue in London in 1977 performing “Complete Control”
3) The Pixies at U-Mass in Boston in 1990 performing “U-Mass”

3a) XTC anywhere at anytime playing any song.

Just don’t look, okay

Seriously, this is not for everyone.

If you don’t want to see a video of a guy shoving his head into a sheep and then being dragged (or is it drug) around a barn, just don’t click on the link, okay.

Just don’t.

Feral Skunky

Feral Skunky…you know, instead of Feargal Sharkey. Ha ha.

I had just started writing a comedy sketch about a couple of wild-men discovered on PEI as being raised by skunks (don’t ask), when I came, quite co-incidentally, across this site listing feral children. Reading some of these stories kinda takes the fun out of writing my “Skunk Brothers” sketch.

I Am My Own Jeff Probst

Quite a while ago, on an online message board I use to frequent (which is now pretty much dead from inactivity), I developed an online version of Survivor. It was quite successful amongst those who frequented that board, and lots of fun. There were actually two ‘seasons’ of Survivor, and the same fellow, Kreskin, was the ultimate survivor each time.

Basically, those who chose to play were randomly divided into two teams (and then later, the remaining players played individually), and each team had to answer challenges that I gave (they would email me the answers, which I would then post for all to see). I was sole judge and jury of the challenges, and with some of the decisions being judgement calls on my part, there were a few accusations of favouritism and cheating. The losing team/players had to then vote one of themselves out of the game.

My all-time favourite answer, from all the answers to all the challenges, is below. It was given by Frankie, who sometimes visits this site. This answer allowed Frankie to win that challenge.

Here is that challenge, and Frankie’s answer beneath it:

——————-
The Challenge:
I am a big-wig, hot shot producer of a sitcom called “Bottomless Cup”. The sitcom airs on NBC on Thursday nights. The sitcom is about a happy, friendly, somewhat naïve man named Bill Timmons. He has a sarcastic wife and 3 precocious kids. Bill owns his own internet café, called Bottomless Cup. He has a wacky staff of 4 (a doltish male, a sexist male, a sexpot female, & an unassuming pretty female). Many characters frequent his café, some recurring.

The sitcom divides its time between Bill’s ‘work’ life and Bill’s ‘home’ life.

The sitcom is a huge success for NBC, and has just been renewed for 2 more years.

You five are my team of comedy writers. (at this point there were 5 players still remaining)

Here is the problem:

This week’s episode is almost ready to be filmed (before a live studio audience). The script is great. Trouble is, one of the jokes just isn’t working right. It’s just not funny. We’re about to film the scene and we need a joke right now.

You each will submit a joke or punch-line that fits into the following scenario and script. The one who posts the joke that I will ultimately use in the episode will get a huge raise and will win immunity.

Scenario:
The police have just arrived at the Bottomless Cup because a prudish customer, whom nobody likes, complained that she saw some explicit and potentially illegal pornography on the café computer she was using.

Officer: Mr. Timmons, I’m afraid we’re going to have to confiscate that computer.
Bill: But officer, that’s not pornography!
Officer: It’s not? Well, if that’s not pornography, what’s that giraffe doing with that stewardess?
Bill: (insert joke here)

We need a big laugh joke here, because right after this we break for commercial.

——-

This is your challenge.

Good luck.
———————————————-

This was Frankie’s, and the winning answer:

I just thought that was perfect.
Anyone got another punchline for this?

“Hands up,” he said. “Haaaands up.”

Today, during lunch, as I was walking (and walkman-ing) around the downtown core:
-a policeman was walking down the street toward me. I swear, it took all of my strength not to try and grab the gun from his holster as he walked past. This impulse wasn’t one that built up as he approached. It was pure and intense and only instantaneous to his passing. I didn’t want to do anything nefarious with the weapon, I just wanted to grab for it. Then I’d give it back. I wondered how the cop would react. By the way, in the end, I decided not to make a grab for the pistol.
-thinking about music, listening to music as I walked. Steven Garrity has posted his second Acts of Volition Radio Session and Matt‘s recent post referencing the Rolling Stone Top 100 got me thinking about music lists and playlists and such. Me, I prefer a lot of randomness to my music-listening adventures. I appreciate the studious and carefully compiled playlist of 10 songs which flow perfectly into the next, but ultimately I’d rather have a thousand or more songs randomly playing. I really like not knowing what’s coming next, but knowing I’ll like it well enough. As for Steven’s ‘theme’ broadcasts, I thought ‘great vocal performances’ would make a great show. This thought struck me as I was listening to Tom Jones’ “Delilah” (which was followed by X’s “Los Angeles”, then the theme to “Sanford and Son”, then “Girl Afraid” by The Smiths, then…)
-I’m definately a stroller. Maybe even a saunterer. I take my time getting to where I’m going.
-I perceive myself as walking fairly erect. This may not be the case, maybe I stoop as I saunter, but I don’t believe so. If anybody considers me a stooped saunterer, rather than an erect stroller, please let me know. But let me know gently, for god’s sake.

"Hands up," he said. "Haaaands up."

Today, during lunch, as I was walking (and walkman-ing) around the downtown core:

-a policeman was walking down the street toward me. I swear, it took all of my strength not to try and grab the gun from his holster as he walked past. This impulse wasn’t one that built up as he approached. It was pure and intense and only instantaneous to his passing. I didn’t want to do anything nefarious with the weapon, I just wanted to grab for it. Then I’d give it back. I wondered how the cop would react. By the way, in the end, I decided not to make a grab for the pistol.

-thinking about music, listening to music as I walked. Steven Garrity has posted his second Acts of Volition Radio Session and Matt‘s recent post referencing the Rolling Stone Top 100 got me thinking about music lists and playlists and such. Me, I prefer a lot of randomness to my music-listening adventures. I appreciate the studious and carefully compiled playlist of 10 songs which flow perfectly into the next, but ultimately I’d rather have a thousand or more songs randomly playing. I really like not knowing what’s coming next, but knowing I’ll like it well enough. As for Steven’s ‘theme’ broadcasts, I thought ‘great vocal performances’ would make a great show. This thought struck me as I was listening to Tom Jones’ “Delilah” (which was followed by X’s “Los Angeles”, then the theme to “Sanford and Son”, then “Girl Afraid” by The Smiths, then…)

-I’m definately a stroller. Maybe even a saunterer. I take my time getting to where I’m going.

-I perceive myself as walking fairly erect. This may not be the case, maybe I stoop as I saunter, but I don’t believe so. If anybody considers me a stooped saunterer, rather than an erect stroller, please let me know. But let me know gently, for god’s sake.