Archive | Sean Connery RSS feed for this section

Well, Hit Me with an Anvil–It’s Contest Time Again

25 Jun

by Roger White

 

OK, OK, you don’t have to klonk the Spouseman over the head with an anvil. Speaking of, you don’t see too many anvils these days, do you? Think about it. When, in your daily comings and goings, have you come across a nice, sturdy yet aesthetically pleasing anvil recently? Critics of modern society may hold forth about how the increasingly technological, service-oriented nature of our economy today has killed such former life staples as record albums, newspapers, actual books, travel agencies, home phones, and the pleasure of becoming permanently out of touch with that behold the anvilglommy high school friend, but I say a true death knell for the world that was is the marked lack of anvils. There was once a time when every decent home needed a good anvil. Nowadays, I’ll bet you can go a whole year without even saying the word “anvil.” And this is so because we simply don’t make things anymore. We tweet. We blog. We text. We don’t plow and dig and forge things. Today’s kids may not even understand the term.

 

Old guy: “I need me a good anvil.”

 

Young guy: “What’s that? An Advil? Got a headache?”

 

Having said all that, however, I did find a reputable anvil supply house—on the internet, ironically enough. For all of your anvil needs, visit www.anvils4sale.com. A classic, German double-horn anvil will set you back about $2,700, but if you’re not fussy, you can land a decent, used church window anvil for right around a thousand bucks. I’m not exactly sure what a church window anvil is, but it sounds righteous.

 

I’ve been told by more than one Spouse reader that I tend to ramble. This may be true. Let me just say the word “anvil” one more time, and we can get to the meat of this column: Anvil. OK, I’m good.

 rambler guy

So, anyway, the whole reason I didn’t want to be klonked with a church window anvil is because you guys have been clamoring for another contest—namely the Movie Mashup. In retrospect, I realize it’s been since last December since we mashed up some good movies, so here we go. Father John Connor, you’re now eligible to participate again. And thanks for the rosary beads.

 

If you recall, what we have here, fellow catnip cosmonauts, is a collection of famous lines from movies. However, quotes from two different movies have been squished together to make one line. Here’s a for instance: “What we got here is failure to phone home.” This is, quite obviously, a collision of “Cool Hand Luke” and “ET: The Extra-Terrestrial.” Get it? No? Okay, here’s another one: “My precious goes all the way to eleven.” That’s a combo platter of “Lord of the Rings” and “This is Spinal Tap.” Or as I call it, “Lord of the Spinal Rings.”

 

So. Below (or above if you’re reading this upside down) are 10 Movie Mashups. Your job, if you choose to accept it, is to tell moi what two movies got cozy and had relations to make the mixed-up quote. The first 18,427 people to respond with any cinderfella storysemblance of an answer win a genuine “Jesus is Coming, Hide the Bong” bumper sticker. If you get pulled over by the cops for displaying said bumper sticker, I will not be held accountable. E-mail moi at rogdude@mail.com with your best guesses. Void in Maine, Oshkosh, and in that little gin joint over by 5th Street. Ready? Set? Bang.

 

  1. “You don’t understand. I coulda had class. I coulda been Mister Tibbs.”
  2. “Love means never having to round up the usual suspects.”
  3. “You’re gonna need a bigger damn dirty ape!”
  4. “Attica! Attica! Toga! Toga!”
  5. “Cinderella story. Outta nowhere. A former greenskeeper, now, about to become a martini. Shaken, not stirred.”
  6. “Say hello to my little wire hangers.”
  7. “Shane, you’re trying to seduce me. Aren’t you?”
  8. “As God as my witness, I’ll never see dead people again.”
  9. “Every time a bell rings, an angel gets a box of chocolates.”
  10. “I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice elephant in my pajamas.”

BONUS: “I’m gonna get medieval on your pod bay doors, HAL.”

 

Roger White is a freelance writer living in Austin, Texas, with his lovely wife, two precocious daughters, a very fat dachshund, and a self-absorbed cat. For further adventures, visit oldspouse.wordpress.com.

 

So That’s Why They Call it the Poop Deck! OMG!!!

14 Feb

by Penelope Ashe

 

Editor’s note: While “This Old Spouse” columnist Roger White continues his recovery yowzaand convalescence from male breast-reduction surgery, guest columnist Penelope Ashe has agreed to offer her wacky, offbeat observations and unique comic stylings with her very own “From Penelope’s Pen.”

 

Hi, out there!!! Penelope Ashe here!!! First, let me tell you a little bit about myself. My name is Penelope Ashe, and I am an XX-year-old divorcee living in Bastrop, Texas, with my two adorable poodles and one snarky, mean old cat. You didn’t really think I was going to tell you how old I was, did you? Hahahahaha!!!

I have an online associate’s degree from Belford University, I was an actress and singer in Houston (actually, the suburb of Sealy!) for several years (Shakey’s Olde Time Dinner Theatre), and I have my own Pinterest following in the disciplines of scrapbooking and merkin weaving. My friends and family have always told me how funny and witty I am, so when I found out about this chance to write my very own funny column, I just couldn’t resist!!!

Well, anyway, enough about me, on to the humor!!! Are you ready???

Did you hear about that cruise ship that got stuck in the ocean without any power? OMG, it floated around in the Gulf of Mexico for days, while passengers had to wait in line for like ever for food—and they had to do their business in buckets!!! I guess that gives a new meaning to the word “poop deck,” huh? Hahaha!!!

And what’s up with that Charlie Sheen character? OMG x 2!!! What I don’t understand is that after all his misbehavior (do you really think he drank real tiger’s blood?), he gets another zillion-dollar contract to star in another TV show?!? Do you think if I acted up sheenlike that that I would get my very own TV show? Maybe something like “Here’s Penelope” or “A*S*H*E”—get it? (Like “M*A*S*H” except a little different.) By the way, did you know that they have a sitcom in the Philippines called “Ful Haus,” based on the all-time classic American show “Full House”? Isn’t there a law? Anyway, with Mr. Sheen being a total wackjob like he is, I don’t blame his brother, Emilio Estevez, for taking a stage name.

How about poor Lance Armstrong, huh? Everyone in this part of the world pretty much worshiped the ground he rode on until all the steroid accusations against him were proven to be true. We had a Lance Armstrong bike path, Lance Armstrong Avenue; everybody wore his little yellow wristbands, etc., etc. And now everybody in and around Austin rides their bikes wearing their aerodynamic helmets and faux Lancecompetition outfits, looking quite ridiculous if you ask me. I’m sure many of them would have given their left you-know-what to be Lance Armstrong—which is real funny if you know that Mr. Armstrong only has one you-know-what? Hahahahah!!! And now Lance has admitted that it’s all true—Lance was lanced with hypodermic needles more times than a drug addict. I guess you could say he was a drug pedaler. Get it???!!!

You know, for some reason, every time I try to actually say “hypodermic needles,” I end up saying “hypodeemic nerdles.” I always thought that would be a great name for a garage band. The Hypodeemic Nerdles!!! What do you think? Anyhoot,….

Can you believe the Pope is heading off to retirement? I didn’t know they could do that? Can you just picture him in a baggy bathing suit, long black socks and sandals, with his tall Pope hat on, scouring the beach with his metal detector. I guess now that he’s no longer on the job, they’ll call him Ex Benedict. Hee hee hee!!! Like the breakfast.

Apparently, we just missed being hit by a giant asteroid, only by a few hundred miles or look outso. Did you hear that? Whew!!! That would have been a really rocky end, huh? It would lend a new meaning to getting really stoned, huh? Talk about getting stuck between a rock and a hard place!!! Hoohooooo!!!!

Well, I guess that’s all for now, readers!!! If you want to join my Pinterest site for scrapbooking, just tweet #penelopespals@283, and I’ll be sure to reply. Air kisses and e-hugs!!!

 

Roger White is a freelance writer living in Austin, Texas, with his lovely wife, two precocious daughters, a very fat dachshund, and a self-absorbed cat. For further adventures, visit oldspouse.wordpress.com. Penelope Ashe, author of “Naked Came the Stranger,” is a part-time cosmetologist at Sue’s Salon in Cement, Texas.

And Now the Rest of the Story

16 Oct

by Roger White 

You know who I miss? Well, yes, I do still pine for Irene Ryan. Granny wielded a razor wit and a mean shotgun—or was it shotgun wit and a mean razor? Whatever. And you just couldn’t beat her possum stew.

But no, my point was that I miss Paul Harvey. If you’re not dilapidated enough to remember him, Paul Harvey was a radio broadcaster who for years and years mingled news, opinion, urban legend, and cleverly disguised product plugs in a quirky one-man show he called “The Rest of the Story.” I didn’t always agree with his politics, but Harvey was funny and sincere. He sounded like one of your slightly deranged uncles telling oddball stories by the campfire.

 

Harvey transitioned to that great studio in the sky in 2009, and in the years since I’ve come to realize he left a huge hole with his passing. News cycles today are so unrelentingly fleeting that no time is allowed for follow-up. You get a headline, a couple of paragraphs of story, and no more. Then it’s on to the next bath-salts-induced-face-eating story. I say it’s time we slowed things down a bit. I say it’s time for more in-depth coverage, for broader, more extensive, more thoughtful deliberation of the day’s events and trends. I say it’s time for another Paul Harvey.

So, friends, followers, and finagling philanderers, I give you Carlos Carlos Moore.

Carlos Carlos is an old pal from journalism school (North Lamar Street Continuing Adult Ed) who found his niche with a show he calls “Moore to the Story.” His hour-long format has been running on Matamoros’ K-PUTA radio for 22 years. I called up my old classmate to see if he’d be willing to put a bit of his talents down on paper, and he graciously obliged, so without further ado, here’s a sampling of “Moore to the Story.”

“From Santa Fe Springs, California, comes this disturbing item that’s made news around the world recently: A 62-year-old employee of the local Bumble Bee Tuna plant was found baked to death in the facility’s giant steamer oven. It remains unclear how the man got into the industrial cooker, but officials are tentatively ruling the death an accident…

…but there’s ‘Moore to the Story.’ Agreeing to be interviewed on the condition of anonymity, an assistant plant manager at the Bumble Bee facility said that due to declining tuna harvests in recent years, select Bumble Bee plants have been ‘retiring’ lesser known employees, particularly undocumented workers, in this manner to fill production quotas. Cans of tuna supplemented with these special ingredients are shipped mainly overseas. In a possibly related story, a spokeswoman for the New Delhi Board of Trade commented at a public hearing last week how her daughter texted her during school lunchtime to ask if tuna fish had fingernails.”

“From the French news organization BVA comes this bit of dirt. According to a new poll, one fifth of French citizens say they don’t wash on a daily basis, and almost 4 percent say they avoid soap and water more than once a week. The study also found that approximately 20 percent of French people don’t wash their hands before eating, and about 12 percent don’t wash their hands after using the toilet…

…but there’s ‘Moore to the Story.’ In a recent interview for his latest biography, actor Sean Connery, a self-confessed ‘germaphobe,’ said he had known since early childhood about the unsettling personal proclivities of the French and that he avoided close encounters with them whenever possible. Connery admitted that during the filming of the 1968 British western “Shalako,” he donned a full-body condom and antibiotic face shield in his scenes with French starlet Brigitte Bardot.”

“From ABC News’ ‘Good Morning America’ show comes this ‘passing’ fancy. As if the bizarre allure that the rare Indonesian gourmet coffee Kopi Luwak holds over some fanciers isn’t enough, Anantara Resorts in the Maldives Islands has introduced its select Black Ivory coffee. For those unfamiliar, Kopi Luwak is made from coffee berries eaten and excreted by small Asian critters called civets. At about $2,200 a pound, Black Ivory, passed through the digestive tracts of Thai elephants, has now one-upped—or should I say ‘sur-passed’—Kopi Luwak as the caca coffee du jour…

 

…but there’s ‘Moore to the Story.’ Our research team has spanned the globe searching for café concoctions even rarer and more exotic. So far, we found two blends on opposite sides of the world we believe are worth taste-testing: In south central New Jersey, a secretive underground cabal of coffee connoisseurs brews an aromatic, nutty-tasting cup made from an exacting process. First, a half-can of Folger’s red-label beans is marinated in automatic transmission fluid in that big puddle under the Fremont Avenue Bridge, near the Camden tracks. Then the beans are left to soak precisely an hour and a half in the urinal trough at Big John’s Bar up the block. The locals call it Jersey Joe. Insiders’ tip: Grind slowly with cinnamon and rosemary for that perfect touch. For a change of pace, coffee gourmands in the northern Ukraine offer this zesty java that literally leaves your tongue tingling. Called Oblast Blast, the recipe for this epicurean extravagance is quite interesting. A gross of beans is shipped to the lone remaining citizen of the ghost town of Pripyat. This man, named Vedislav, sucks on each bean individually for one minute then lays each bean out to dry in the street. There the beans cure for six months—in the shadow of the deserted Chernobyl nuclear plant. When the beans are a nice day-glo green, they’re mixed with asbestos and ground for consumption. Oblast Blast, by the way, has a remarkable shelf life.”

Roger White is a freelance writer living in Austin, Texas, with his lovely wife, two precocious daughters, a very fat dachshund, and a self-absorbed cat. For further adventures, visit oldspouse.wordpress.com.