Discontented Cookies

As Dennis Miller used to say,

2006-09-29T10:24:00.000-07:00

I am outta here.

Since Blogger is less reliable than wireless broadband in Albania, I'm heading over to TypePad. It costs a little, but I should be able to do things like post more often than once per new pope election. Here be the link.

I'm going to leave everything up here for the time being, but this site will not be updated again, ever. See you at the new place.

It's turning fallish. I can smell the snark in the air

2006-09-15T20:11:00.000-07:00

If it hadn’t been for the missus, I’d never have found it. She’d been talking about the Chelsea Antique Mall, a sizeable establishment outside of Birmingham named in honor of the former president’s daughter. Either that, or it got its name from the city of Chelsea, where it’s located. I haven’t done that much research on it, to be honest.

At any rate, we drove out there a few weekends ago to peruse and see if there were any suitable snark targets. And while we didn’t set any records in terms of quantity, we flat-out slapped one out of the park and into the third solar system on the right.

Lemme explain.

In amidst some fair-to-middling snark bits, there was one gem of pure fifties cheese. It wasn’t in the best of shape, and it had acquired a patina of sepia in the intervening decades, but I didn’t care. All it had was some of The. Greatest. Pictures. EVAR. As the ubiquitous they are wont to say, with some pretty knee-slapping copy to go along with those pics.

The first few pages are in really rough shape, so I don’t know when it was published, and the spine only says “1001 Hints Etiquette,” which I doubt was the complete title. No matter. It’s in good enough shape to see that it was a series of fifties-era ridiculously over-the-top fake letters to “Jennie,” a pseudo-Ann Landers for the clueless, and Jennie’s equally over-the-top answers.

Now, let’s get this retro party started. (I scanned these with the old scanner, so you’ll have to overlook any streaks for the time being. I’ll rescan ’em later with the new unit.)

Eat, drink and spend Daddy's money

2006-09-15T20:09:00.000-07:00

"Whee! Somebody loves me, and I’m all aglow. Kenny Miller, a boy in my English class, recently called up and asked if he could come over and compare notes with me on our Macbeth papers. We worked at a big table in our living-room while Mother and Dad read, and it was all very peaceful until we went out to the kitchen for a snack. It didn’t seem to me that I was being unduly generous with the family vittles, but Mother and Daddy nearly blew two fuses when they discovered what I had fed him. Wouldn’t you think they’d be delighted that I was clever enough to attract a boy, that they’d be happy to let me treat him rather royally?"

I wasn’t around (really) in the fifties, but I’m willing to wager that not even then did girls write out “Whee!” in letters. (As the late Mitch Hedberg said, “That's what you say when you're having fun. You refer to yourself and some other people.”) And judging by the picture, it doesn’t look like she did much more than make him a sandwich. Sure, it’s a Dagwood, but still, she didn’t sear the filet mignon and pry open the Dom Perignon. I think Mom and Dad are more concerned that Tess is 35 and still living at home, using words like “vittles” and expressions like “blew two fuses.” Not since a 29-year-old Alan Ruck tried to pass himself off as teenage Cameron Frye has there been such a miscast. And Kenny looks like he should be a stand-in for Irving R. Levine at the CBS bureau office. Y’all just need to grow up and move out. That’ll pacify the parental units.

And that ain't a bottle of milk he's staring at.

I spent hours perfecting that forehead curl

2006-09-15T20:07:00.000-07:00

Awwww, isn’t she just the cutest thing? Makes you want to pick her up and put her in your pocket. Where she’d no doubt pout and carry on that Tiffany’s father kept her in a much nicer pocket, and if you really loved her, you’d have a gold-lined pocket for her.

Here’s the question perky princess Jennie M. posed to Jennie the Advice-Giver: “Jo-Jo Hanley, who is absolutely top-man at our school, called me up a few weeks ago and asked me for a date. My brother claims I drooled into the telephone at him and predicted that the date would be a flop because I was so eager. I was, and it was—but what can you do when your blood pressure is 220? Another heavenly guy has just asked me to go to dinner and a hockey game with him, and what I need is a blue-print for a successful evening. What should I talk about? What’ll I do if he tries to kiss me? What should I think if he doesn’t? I’m sorely in need of plain ordinary dating know-how.”

Wait. Did she predict that the date would be a flop? ’Cause that’s how it reads. Dang antecedents.

I think the problem isn’t Jennie M. being anxious. It’s that while her blood pressure is 220, her IQ is more like the cube root of that number.

And why is she using Andre the Giant’s telephone?

Um, I'm a little shy

2006-09-15T20:06:00.000-07:00

Oh boy. A young James Caan has taken his best girl out to Chez Froufrou, but he’s short on funds, credit cards for teens haven’t been invented yet, and it’s not like he can call Mom for backup, since that meddling Mrs. Mendelbright is always tying up the party line. Plus, Mr. Condescending Waiter is about to ask the bouncer to “Make sure the little feller ain’t holding out on us.”

Hope his date eventually loosens up enough to relax that death grip on her purse and hold his hand while he’s washing dishes.

What's a few plies of tissue when you're competing for boys?

2006-09-15T20:04:00.000-07:00

“Why, oh why, did I have to listen to that tramp Tammy Sue Powell and stuff my bra that much? She knew full well that some of that stuffing would fall out while I was doing the twist, and now the whole school will call me Kleenex Cleavage.”

That platinum'll soak into your brain, they tell me

2006-09-15T20:02:00.000-07:00

I’m not saying she doesn’t deserve it, because I’m certain she does, but it’s just a jarring sight to see two people gossiping so openly, right there in front of their subject.

Here’s what Beth S. posed to Jennie, with my comments in brackets.

“I’ve just come back from visiting my love who is a freshman at the State University, and my head is a-buzz. [Snort.] In order not to be a spectacle (you see, I’m still in high school and I knew I’d be competing with droves of smooth college girls), I changed the naïve hair-do I usually wear, did over my little-girl nails and bought myself my first pack of cigarettes.” [I’m supposed to believe that, up until this trip to the creatively named State U., this trollop looked like Ralph Monroe from “Green Acres,” had a “naïve” hair-do, whatever that is, and had never bought a pack of Lucky Strikes? Don’t yank my chain, Daddy-O.] When I arrived I realized I had overdone it completely. [Because college boys can’t stand a showy girl. Turns them right off.] The wrong clothes weren’t my only worry. For instance, I only nodded to the chaperones, but I wonder whether this was rude. How big a tip should I have left the ladies’ room attendant? And should I have paid for any of my meals? [And what about that knife-fight in the Sigma Sigma Beta lobby? Is it customary to stanch the bleeding when you’ve just cut open a debutante with your homemade shiv because she stepped on your stilletto heels?]

Honestly, the Army makes me carry it!

2006-09-15T20:00:00.000-07:00

Supposedly, this “best beau” committed the sin of buying too nice a gift for his girl. But judging by the look on their faces and the saturated melodrama in the scene, it’s more likely that Mother is saying, “Young man, can you explain the presence of the prophylactic you had hidden in this lunchbox? And don’t lie to me, because you know I still swing a mean cricket bat.”

Chuck Buzzcut and Sally Simpleton

2006-09-15T19:58:00.000-07:00

Cookieholics of a certain age will look at this picture and instantly think, “One ringy dingy, two ringy dingy. Have I reached the party to whom I am speaking?”

What did Tina E./Ernestine have to say?

“I have just lost my second good job within six months—this one with a newspaper. I loved the work and I had just met Joe—the most wonderful fellow I’ve ever known—so I am doubly crushed. I am a conscientious worker, although a couple of Monday mornings following late nights with Joe I did slip in late, and perhaps we rehashed our dates occasionally on company time. Once it was our luck to go up in the elevator with the boss after one of our long lunches. Still, my work was always caught up. Can you tell me what was wrong with this behavior so that this doesn’t happen again?”

Uranium isn’t that dense. And if she’s really stupid enough to ask those questions, she’s no doubt wondering why she can’t hear Bill Haley and Frankie Avalon on that funny radio she’s holding.

What's taking you so long?

2006-09-15T19:56:00.000-07:00

These two pictures actually have to do with a story about a cousin who came for a 10-day visit and wasn’t a good house guest. But that wasn’t what you were thinking.

Horrors! Mother makes me date!

2006-09-15T19:54:00.000-07:00

Smut! Smutty smut, right there in the pages of an etiquette magazine! Why, this should be sold behind the counter at that seemy gas station where all the young hipsters hang out.

The copy: “Can you tell me why parents are so absolutely heartless on the subject of going steady? I am really in love with Jack, a boy at school. Nevertheless, Mother insists that I accept any other dates I’m offered and that I see Jack only once a week.

She’s afraid that if we see each other too often we’d be tempted to over-indulge in love-making. She has a point. There have been nights recently when we’ve been alone in his car—when good resolutions have looked pale.

What should people like Jack and me do, who only enjoy each other’s company and yet who are a temptation for each other? We plan to be married some day, and so is there any real point in our clinging so desperately to chastity?”

Not if a awkward backward smooch is what you call lovemaking.

It came from Planet Brylcreem

2006-09-15T19:49:00.000-07:00

What distressed these two young upstanding citizens so? What wretched hellspawn could freeze their heartbeat and led them to cling to each other as if Beelzebub himself were breathing his miasmic breath on them?

Why, only SlimyMcSlimerson, the most unappealing character the fifties ever produced. Don't you just want to beat him senseless with his own penny loafers?

That’s it for now. More in a day or so, including the absolutely greatest picture ever. I promise.

What can brown do for you?

2006-09-13T13:21:00.000-07:00

Bring me a new scanner, in this case.

You may have noticed that the scans I've been putting up lately have some streaks in them. That's because the scanner I have has been burned or scratched or some such underneat the glass by the light bar. Evidently, HP didn't factor in extremes of light and heat when it was designing a scanner.

But the UPS website tells me that my brand-spanking (I opted for the pre-spanked model; less wear and tear on the hands that way) new Canon scanner is waiting for me. And if you email me to tell me Canon scanners are sorrier than gully dirt, I will be forced to hunt you down and actively mock you behind your back, right to your face.

So, I should have some new scannage shortly.

Once again, the seventies comes in for a beating

2006-09-06T10:57:00.000-07:00

And of course, the beating is a deserved one. This collection of ugliness comes from a Bloomingdale's book written by Barbara Darcy, who, according to this page, is a member of the Interior Design Hall of Fame.

Maybe the nominating committee just forgave this book.

One pattern, a million surfaces

2006-09-06T10:55:00.000-07:00

I like the way the furniture covering just blends on into the wall covering, like a pocket on a plaid shirt.

Don't be an adobe criminal

2006-09-06T10:53:00.000-07:00

Another in the Torture Room Series. Low-hanging roof beams that even Billy Barty would bash his skull on, various and sundry loose articles just peachy for impaling, a regular OSHA catalog of trip hazards, and to top it all off, a fireplace that’s not connected to the chimney.

Oh, and that whole “It’s ugly” thing, too.

So close, and yet, well, not that close, really

2006-09-06T10:52:00.000-07:00

I almost like this. Almost. I’ve always been a sucker for attic rooms, probably since Greg/Johnny Bravo had that groovy pad on “The Brady Bunch.” And if this room weren’t so weirded up, it could reach that quirky-cool zone. But like the kid in junior high who just has to have everybody like him, it’s just trying too hard. Plus I’d feel like I was in the hold of Noah’s ark with that roof.

When Obsessive-Compulsive Decorators Attack! Tonight on Fox!

2006-09-06T10:50:00.000-07:00

You know, just because a pattern is pretty doesn’t mean that you have to etch it onto every spare inch of space. The jumbled-up furnishings make it look like the photographer refused to snap the picture until at least some of that pattern was covered up, and the props people just grabbed the first things they could find.

Big brown globs of masticated paper pulp

2006-09-06T10:47:00.000-07:00

“Would you believe cardboard!” the copy kinda asks, since the sentence is followed by an exclamation point instead of a question mark. (Sorry. My latent Grammar Naziism flares up now and then, Mein Fuhrer.) And I answer “Yes, I would.” It’s pretty easy to believe it’s cardboard when it’s mushy brown and corrugated.

On the plus side, the room is self-absorbent. On the down side, after a few spilled Tabs or Mr. Pibbs, the whole thing gets wavy.

Elsie never saw that slug coming

2006-09-06T10:45:00.000-07:00

Ahh, nothing goes with paisley like butchered Holstein on the floor. Unless it’s the canopy bedlet in front of the fireplace. I guess that’s for people who find smoking unfiltered Marlboros just too wussy and want to snork up concentrated split oak fumes.

Comma, comma down dooby doo DOWN, DOWN, DOWN

2006-09-06T10:42:00.000-07:00

This whole room is just too perky.

Note: I haven’t Photoshopped this a bit. It’s really that dark. Evidently, Sylvia Plath also dabbled in room decoration. Makes an opium den look like the Teletubbies set.

Of course, in Alabama, the Tuscaloosa

2006-09-06T10:39:00.000-07:00

Why just one tusk? Evidently, it wasn’t weird enough to have that sproingy chandelier/interrogation device hanging in the center of the room, so the decorator had to further unbalance everything with just one tusk.

Or maybe she was just a Fleetwood Mac fan.

Welcome to the Grotto

2006-09-06T10:38:00.000-07:00

Freeform Lucite, Rorschach patterns on the walls, varying levels and a Mylar bed. Cozy, ain’t it?

I would like to have that television, though.

Medieval hunting chic

2006-09-06T10:36:00.000-07:00

Ted Nugent meets Henry VIII. Not good.

All together now: “99 flagons of grog on the wall, 99 flagons of grog. If one of those flagons should happen to fall, 98 flagons of grog on the wall…”

In a white room, with purple beanbags

2006-09-06T10:34:00.000-07:00

“Hello, Ms. Darcy? This is Mrs. Fennington Bennington IV. I’m redecorating my Manhattan apartment, and I hear you are quite the rage amongst the cognoscenti. Here’s what I have in mind: soulless. Complete, sere, soullessness. I want my place to inspire abject depression and determined wrist-slashing at a moment’s glance. Can you do that?”

Ah, ah, ah, ah, staying tacky, staying tacky

2006-09-06T10:32:00.000-07:00

Again with the neverending pattern, only this time it’s on top of a glossy mirrored floor last seen under Tony Manero’s shoes.

And Liberace wants his chandelier back.

Better start that Zoloft drip

2006-09-06T10:30:00.000-07:00

Sunken floor made even uglier by the use of lattice stripped from a tacky gazebo and what looks like cheetah-footprint wallpaper.

Have that Helot peel me a mango!

2006-09-06T10:28:00.000-07:00

Gahhhh! What did my retinas ever do to you, lady? The Roman Emperor look is bad enough, but it’s not necessary to molest my eyeballs with that orange, too.

The Neverending Pattern

2006-09-06T10:27:00.000-07:00

Holly Hobbie was raised in this house. The earthy, seventies Holly Hobbie. Not this one.

Stop thinking so pink

2006-09-06T10:25:00.000-07:00

The only way this could be made more quintessentially seventies would be if the pink light pulsated. Back then, coupling this with a Barry White could get you pregnant at 100 yards.

Weeee doggies, Mobutu

2006-09-06T10:23:00.000-07:00

You know how the Clampetts couldn’t shake that Ozark Mountain upbringing, no matter how much money they had in the Commerce Bank? This room is what would happen if a Masai warrior struck oil and moved to Manhattan.

Nah, that won't get old fast. No way

2006-09-06T10:21:00.000-07:00

This here is what you call seventies perfection. That’s a projection on the walls, and the copy notes that you could change the picture to match your mood. Bonus cool points for the inflatable furniture.

Pipe me aboard

2006-09-06T10:19:00.000-07:00

When you're going for that homey feeling, nothing beats perforated PVC pipe. If it’s good enough for your septic system's field lines, it’s good enough for your walls. As an added bonus, you can safely develop film in this Red Menace of a room.

I've got stripes, stripes along my hallway

2006-09-06T10:17:00.000-07:00

When you care enough to ruin the very best.

Taken singly, some of this stuff actually wouldn’t be that bad. (Wall striping notably excepted.) Cram them all together, though, and it’s thoroughly toxic.

Not very mellow yellow

2006-09-06T10:14:00.000-07:00

The chairman of the Chiquita Banana Company loved his new office.

Blow the gardenias and sound the crumpets!

2006-08-31T23:03:00.000-07:00

After much gnashing and wailing of teeth, I've gotten a SATA enclosure, and I've reincarnated my old hard drive into more backup storage. Once I got the right kind of enclosure, it was a snap. Five minutes, and it was up and spooling, disgorging forth greath quantities of bits and bytes.

Which is pretty boring, I know. (Why should this post be any different from the rest?) But the good part is that the instructions that came with the enclosure were purest Japlish. Or Chinglish. Or some other permutation of English and another language. Here are the choicest parts, reproduced verbatim.

On the cover:

Please strongly recommend reading the MANUAL before using the product!

Computer will quickly detact and configure the disk...

You can do everything u like as using a disk driver.

Here's where it starts getting good:

Connect your enclsoure with the IDE hare disk or SATA hare disk with the IDE cable or the SATA cable...

After an illustration showing a "3.5 Floopy" drive:

And you simply clisk the icon to whop the device safely even when the computer is turned on.

All kidding aside, I hope you're all practicing safe whopping. Especially if you're using a floopy drive.

For some reason, there's some strange spacing in this section, which I've faithfully reproduced:

You'd better connect the Hi-speed device to the Hi-speed USB2.0 port. when connect to a non-Hi-speed USB2.0 port , there an alert message appeared on the taskbar telling u that connected to non-Hi-speed USBport .Though u can continue to practice ,it will run at lower speed .

Well, of course it will.

Under the heading "Whopping the product properly," which I still can't type without breaking up:

You must click the "safly remove hardware" icon on the right of the taskbar,if u want to stop the product and then there a direction telling that the USB Mass storage device can now be safely remved .then u can whop the USBcable from the USB port.

Of course, with all the computer trouble I've had lately, I've wanted to whop all kinds of things computer-related.

Now this has a Biblical tone to it:

And then there appeared a direction telling that the USB Mass storage device can now be safely remved .then u can whop the USBcable from the USB port.

And then there appeared some seriously laughable Japlish, too, which begat hilarity, which begat lower blood pressure, which begat a good night's sleep for James of Dunn. Yea verily.

But here's the absolute killer:

In Windows2000 or Windows ME ,when you whop the device without according the practices aboved .there a warning message showed that if u whop it without stopping it this may cause your computer to crash or lose some valuable data.

The phrase "if u whop it without stopping it" just about rends my spleen, people. If you're not laughing about that, I fear you may be dead. Ask somebody to hold a mirror up to your mouth, because you probably won't fog it up.

A functioning enclosure (that I didn't have to whop), recovered data and some primo Japlish. Now that's a satisfying night.

I've got a new computer,

2006-08-31T07:48:00.000-07:00

it's a few hours before I begin a four-day weekend, I've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of Sweetarts, it's dark and I'm wearing sunglasses. Oh yeah, I'm going to hit it.

If my plans hold (don't laugh), I'm going on a scanning and posting binge this weekend. I've got gobs and squirts of new material, and hopefully the duct tape will hold everything together long enough for me to get it either in the blog's barrel or at least in the chamber. Stay tuned.

I'm repulsed, yet strangely attracted

2006-08-30T14:20:00.000-07:00

Warning: The Surgeon General has determined that the irony levels necessary to enjoy this room may lead to bleeding from the eyeballs and eardrum prolapse.

Is it a room, or a torture chamber? Let's look at the factors that make me opt for the latter.

A wall of pictures held up by nothing but friction.

Built-in chairs that will compress your spine when you eventually sit on that one hard spot.

Fireplace surrounded by nylon carpet.

Ledge around fireplace that's just perfect for sending you tumbling into the coals.

And the capper, a spiral staircase, wrapped around a fireplace, with no bannister!

Yep, it's a torture chamber, all right.

Dig the pseudo orthogonality, dude

2006-08-30T14:18:00.000-07:00

They're almost right angles, but they're not. Plays with your head, doesn't it?

(Note: This is actually a pretty cool room.)

Ugly, in a cool kind of way

2006-08-30T14:15:00.000-07:00

I'd Krylon that yellow paint into oblivion in a millisecond, but the rest of it is actually kitschy cool. Especially that red chair, which is a cross between a recliner and a lawn chair. Good luck pushing those rollers around that high-nap carpet, though.

The bench around the perimeter gives it that warm, "dentist office waiting room" feel.

Prince spent his formative years here

2006-08-30T14:13:00.000-07:00

According to Wikipedia, The Artist Formerly Known As Prince And Who Is Once Again Known As Prince Until He's Beamed Up To The Mothership was born in 1958. This book was printed in 1962.

Now it all makes sense.

Mr. Mustard. In the dining room. With a poor decorating sense.

2006-08-30T14:08:00.000-07:00

Doesn't this just shout "murder mystery setting"? Well, that and "You'll all be decorating like this in the seventies! Don't say I didn't warn you!"

I believe that's a door behind the table, in the center of the picture, although I think you'd go crazy trying to find it, so well is it camouflaged in pukish yellow.

Yesterday's cutting edge is today's quaint

2006-08-30T13:06:00.000-07:00

In 1962, this room was quite simply too outrageous to be believed. Japanese letters? Them weird-shaped chairs?

Blasted Communists.

OSHA is not impressed

2006-08-30T13:02:00.000-07:00

Sure, you put that shin-saving rounded border on the coffee table, but then you endangered the whole household with a mini-pool surrounded by countless trip hazards. Not to mention the mold factory that carpet will become, what with it being permanently moist.

And they need to finish unwrapping the ottoman.

How green was my den?

2006-08-30T12:57:00.000-07:00

It was so green, Kermit the Frog tried to mate with it.

...that jolly giant used it as camouflage.

...the Boston Red Sox banged triples off it.

You know, Congress has deregulated the color industry, so you need not fear the Green Monopoly any more.

Somebody call Webster's

2006-08-30T12:53:00.000-07:00

After seeing this picture, we're gonna need to redefine "busy."

Honestly, I think I permanently fritzed some neurons trying to process all the patterns and swag in this picture. The only thing not overdone is that coffee table, which was accidentally washed in hot water, evidently.

And "Patterns and Swag" would of course be a good name for a rock band.

I want to live here

2006-08-30T12:50:00.000-07:00

Seriously. No snark will be forthcoming, and in fact, I'll be quietly meditating on the brilliance that went into this picture. If I could find the furnishings, I'd convert one room of Casa de Dunn into a replica of this.

Oh yes, I would.

Jeannie, get back in the bottle! Col. Bellows is coming over!

2006-08-30T12:45:00.000-07:00

Of course, if you really did combine an "I Dream of Jeannie"-era Barbara Eden with this layout, it would actually be pretty doggone cool.

Which isn't saying much. A colonoscopy at a Latvian proctologist's office combined with Barbara is pretty doggone cool. Anything short of being pulled through a wood chipper is good, if combined with Barbara.

So purple. And so sad.

2006-08-30T12:42:00.000-07:00

For some reason, even though I've never seen one, and don't even know if they exist, but this reminds me of an Armenian restaurant. A very bleak, OP'ed (over-purpled) Armenian restaurant.

If only it were a little bolder color

2006-08-30T12:37:00.000-07:00

I'm not saying anything about the fact that some people could look at that wall on the left of the picture and get a sneaking suspicion that there was some pretty overt symbology going on. Nope. Not gonna say it.

Not me.

You can, if you're that kind of person.

But I'm not.

All the cool people are suspending things now

2006-08-28T09:47:00.000-07:00

Seriously, you really can't decorate a room nowadays without several feet of chain link. For added impact, suspend a piece of plastic over two flaming candles. That burning petrochemical smell really tells the world, "I'm cool!"

And if you're truly avant-garde, you'll watch the TV from your living-room swing.

Give it a few seconds. You'll eventually get nauseous

2006-08-28T09:41:00.000-07:00

This room is like a slow-acting, tasteless poison you accidentally ingest. When it first enters your system, you're fine. Upbeat, even. But soon enough, you're retching like Nicole Richie at a Golden Corral. There's something insidious about all that green and blue with that bambooish wall covering.

I'm not one to brag

2006-08-25T06:42:00.000-07:00

Except, you know, when I'm bragging. And I'm bragging right now, because I just got a cyber-nod from none other than the master himself, James Lileks.

"Love the bad decor pix you found: my congrats. That's some gloriously UGLY stuff. And I appreciate the kind words. Keep it up!"

I wrote back thanking him for the nod, and also for not suing me into oblivion for ripping off his concept.

Do what now?

2006-08-23T10:43:00.000-07:00

I'm a huge "Survivor" fan. (The show, not the one-hit wonder band.) There, I said it. Yep, I know it's cheese, and the episodes are edited more than a PSA being recorded by Gary Busey, but it's good heavily edited cheese. But I've got to say this is more than a little weird. I wonder if show producer Mark Burnett hasn't inhaled too many $100 bill fumes while lighting his black market cigars.

In just a couple of weeks, the new season of "Survivor" takes 20 castaways to the Cook Islands in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

They will be split into four tribes, but how they will do that is guaranteed to be a talking point. For the 13th installment of the series, producers have yet another controversial way to begin the game: 20 people, four tribes — each divided by race.

Jeff Probst is back as host of "Survivor: Cook islands" and spoke with The Early Show co-anchor Harry Smith about the controversial new season, which premieres Sept. 14 at 8pm ET on CBS.

Smith asked Probst whether the new way of dividing the "Survivor" contestants was a good idea for a reality show.

"Well, that's probably one of the reasons it will be interesting and controversial, maybe, as you say. I know, from where I sit, I found it to be one of the freshest ideas we've had going back to the beginning of this show in season one," said Probst.

According to some screenshots I've seen, the tribes will be African-American, Asian-American, Hispanic, and White. Which makes my hatred of hyphenated-American terminology flare up, but that's beside the point. As I see it, this set-up has two possible outcomes. I will either be the gimmick that makes the show absolutely riveting watching and the subject of more coffee break talk than "Seinfeld" in its prime, or the quintessential Jump the Shark moment, like when Ross dressed up as the Hanukkah Armadillo on "Friends." It's too soon to say which one will happen for sure, but if I'm not mistaken, you can squint into the horizon and see Fonzie putting on his skis.

Ready for some really fun stuff?

2006-08-22T10:30:00.000-07:00

The kind that tickles your innards and makes you just want to hug the world? Well, too bad, because while I have a bunch of stuff to post, my home PC just went completely non compos mentis, and I'm in the process of picking out a new one. (Yay, an unexpected cost! Who doesn't love them?)

So, for the next couple of days, posting will be slow to nonexistent. At least there's this new Homestar Runner cartoon. It's H*R's 10th anniversary.

Who is hal.dll, and why does he hate my computer?

2006-08-18T07:50:00.000-07:00

This might be the last post for a while. Last night, my computer decided that I had a missing or corrupted hal.dll file, and now I can't get it to boot up, much less open the pod bay doors. I've armed myself with some diagnostic and repair tools, and hope to have it fixed, but you never know.

Of course, if I get into real trouble, I can always go to Microsoft. They're always really helpful.

Bwahahahahahahahahaha! Ow. Laughing that hard is rough on your innards.

Maybe you should take out the "better" part

2006-08-17T11:03:00.000-07:00

Better Homes and Gardens should have known better. They released this collection of vintage seventies dreck you could build yourself in 1977. Little did they know that a copy of the book would be bought for $2 at a thrift store almost 30 years later, or that it would be mocked mercilessly for millions to see. Thousands. Okay, ones. Whatever. Enjoy.

Update: More seventies goodness (so to speak) over at Wee Wonderfuls.

When sewing becomes an obsession

2006-08-17T11:01:00.000-07:00

“Why, no, I don’t mind being alone every Saturday night. CBS has that wonderful lineup with Bob Newhart and Carol Burnett, and of course I also pass the time knitting and sewing myself into a coma.”

Drink all your juice, Moonbeam

2006-08-17T11:00:00.000-07:00

This has it all. The little girl is wearing space age coveralls lifted from Bruce Dern’s wardrobe closet in “Silent Running,” there’s orange shag carpet, gewgaws and gimcracks everywhere, and the topper, “You’re special” painted on the wall. They left off the “just like every other child of a sixties hippy.”

Nice carpet. Is that genuine Muppet?

2006-08-17T10:58:00.000-07:00

Acres of high-gloss enamel paint set atop a carpet formed from Fozzy Bear’s fur. Nice.

It's a den, it's a dining room, it's just a wacky space!

2006-08-17T10:56:00.000-07:00

When you design a top-heavy table, be sure to give it a base with a solid edge. Those are so much easier to topple than tables with those old-fashioned “legs.”

Note also that the dinner table is set in the den. I can only assume that off to the side, there’s the kitchen/bathroom.

The butterflies, they stalk my dreams

2006-08-17T10:55:00.000-07:00

As if the design weren't nauseating enough, that bed looks to be about as wide as Kate Moss' shoulder blade span.

Do you have something a little less practical? You know, something really useless

2006-08-17T10:53:00.000-07:00

I dare you to design a more useless chair.

My eyes! My burning eyes!

2006-08-17T10:50:00.000-07:00

The swing itself is fine. Inviting, even. But whose idea was it to combine those two colors? That green glider part looks like Kermit the Frog hanging upside-down on some monkey bars.

Meemaw and Peepaw do have on some styling shoes, though.

Cool study nook, Janet

2006-08-17T10:48:00.000-07:00

Cutting-edge media center, circa 1975.

No, no! Not the chair!

2006-08-17T10:47:00.000-07:00

There are knitting needles in this chair, as if Meemaw sat in it while watching Walter Cronkite and waiting for that young Charles Kuralt feller’s folksy segment on a hometown okra pickler that still handcrafts its own Mason jar seals. In reality, of course, Meemaw would break several hips just getting in and out of this Torquemada-inspired contraption.

This table grows its own herbs

2006-08-17T10:46:00.000-07:00

There’s no way this contraption turned into a methane-producing, plant-killing swamp bog 15 minutes after the top was put on. Nope. The seventies were such a cool decade that mildew dared not show its ugly head.

A swinging pad. Seriously.

2006-08-17T10:45:00.000-07:00

I. Want. One. Honestly, how cool would this be? You decide to kick back and watch this week’s “Hee Haw,” and instead of a Barcalounger, you relax to the gentle creak of swing fittings. Until the eye bolts pull through and send you crashing to the floor, compressing your spine like one of those medicine cups old ladies keep in their purse.

Jethro Bodine, your den is calling

2006-08-17T10:40:00.000-07:00

One benefit of shag carpeting is that you can snake the power cords for your hidden record player to this coffee table right in the carpet without anybody noticing.

Far out furniture, man

2006-08-17T10:39:00.000-07:00

I’m pretty sure I saw John Houseman pull a bottle of vermouth out of this cabinet in “Rollerball.”

Um, your cutting edge seems to have dulled a bit

2006-08-17T10:38:00.000-07:00

It’s downright quaint today, but there was a time when this was one swinging setup. You can tell it belongs to a groovy dude, because he’s got a reel-to-reel tape player. No easy convenience for this no-doubt-mustachioed stereophile. No sir. It’s lots and lots of leader tape and external capstans for him. Because that new Bachman Turner Overdrive deserves nothing less.

Step into my icky parlor

2006-08-17T10:36:00.000-07:00

Malevolent macrame hangs in the corner like a black widow spider, ready to ensnare anyone foolish enough to venture near its lair. You can tell it’s dangerous by the combination of netting-like upholstery and ripple-stitch afghan on the floor. I think the saying goes, “Red’s not near black, good for Jack. Red hangs near macrame, designing catastrophe.”

Somewhere, people got over the rainbow obsession

2006-08-17T10:35:00.000-07:00

We are stardust, we are golden, but we will always regret this room.

When you really want to get back at your kids

2006-08-17T10:33:00.000-07:00

How over the top does a room have to be before a Raggedy Ann doll is seen as a calming influence?

Good luck picking out TV images from that mutant sunflower wallpaper.

Fur-bearing floors

2006-08-17T10:27:00.000-07:00

Look at that rug. Really. Look at it, and ponder how much Hoover made in replacement profits whenever errant fibers choked the life out of another upright.

The furniture is pretty classic, too. Enamel colors, cutesy storage spaces, futuristic lamp. And some more stacked tableware.

Friends don't let friends decorate like this

2006-08-17T10:24:00.000-07:00

Remember those anti-pollution ads with the crying Indian? This room is actually what brought tears to his eyes. Southwest heritage meets flavor-of-the-month mung. I think the painted radiator is what really sent him over the edge.

Buckets O' Fun!

2006-08-17T10:22:00.000-07:00

Yep, those are five-gallon buckets holding up those shelves. Of course, anybody with bucket shelving would never have racing-striped carpet or Sesame Street-approved numbers curtains. But they would have that cool red TV.

Woodn't it be nice? Well, no

2006-08-17T10:20:00.000-07:00

I call it Redundant Woodwork. You take acres and acres of paneling, and top it off with lumberyard scraps. But the headboard ensured you didn’t have to worry about being depressed by the acres of brown. Once you bonked your head on a pine knot, you were more concerned with brain damage than serotonin levels.

Gilligan's Island made more sense

2006-08-17T10:18:00.000-07:00

Brilliant. Camouflage your kitchen island in the same pattern as every other surface in the kitchen, so that it looks like a creepy outgrowth of the floor, then top it off with a screaming yellow countertop. Numbing uniformity topped by unsettling ncongruity was all the rage back then.

Stack 'em up, make your furniture!

2006-08-17T10:16:00.000-07:00

(Inside joke for Homestar Runner readers) You shanked my jengajam!

(Outside joke for everybody else) Although they had a rugged look and a certain manly charm, Lincoln Log furniture never really caught on. Neither did coffee-cup-stacking.

A big brownout

2006-08-17T10:13:00.000-07:00

What can brown do for you? Inspire me to seek counseling, in this case.

As for that coffee table, considering that tempered glass explodes like Fat Man when it’s so much as tapped on an edge, I wouldn’t advise spending much time barefoot in the living room.

Don't-it-yourself

2006-08-17T10:11:00.000-07:00

Peter Max meets Homer Formby. I’m scared.

It appears to be one of them senseless crimes

2006-08-17T10:09:00.000-07:00

Overly busy print, floors and surfaces abutting floors covered in Yeti fur, whimsical artwork on the wall, and a market basket that has no upward support but still thrusts its three arms upward. Yep. It’s a drive-by Mary Tyler Mooreing, all right.

Eenie, meeny, miney, murder

2006-08-17T10:07:00.000-07:00

Your honor, I intend to show that my client, being rendered temporarily insane by one too many showings of “Love, American Style,” had no way of knowing that the plans for these so-called “killer bunk beds” had been banned by 17 nations, NATO and the Geneva Convention.

The space-gobbling plant holders

2006-08-17T10:05:00.000-07:00

Why have all that irritating open space in your house? In Hollywood, space-gobbling gazeboish contraptions are all the rage. You can always just sleep in a crawlspace while you wait for the rattlesnakes to become hungry, crawl from their leafy abode and bite you in the jugular.

Please, don't fondue

2006-08-17T10:03:00.000-07:00

A microcosm of the seventies. Linoleum, incongruous gingham, butcher block cart and of course, a fondue set. You can't tell from the picture, but off to the side, there’s a 13-inch black-and-white set showing Gene Rayburn cracking a hilarious joke about how “Dumb Dora was so dumb, she put her compact in her blank.”

Totally cubular

2006-08-17T10:02:00.000-07:00

In the seventies, we believed that government edict would soon do away with non-linear furniture. Possession of French curves and protractors would be capital offenses, with violators being executed by compass stabbing. Cubes: they're what's for future.

The whole is uglier than the sum of its parts

2006-08-17T09:59:00.000-07:00

The coffee table isn't really that hideous, but when coupled with the shag carpet and pleather sofa, it’s part and parcel of the whole nauseating seventies atmosphere. Note the statue on the table, where an older gentleman is imparting wisdom to his young charge.

“Son, one of these days, you’re going to have a house of your own, complete with 30-year mortgage and leaky roof. And when you do become a homeowner, I want you to promise me something.”
“What’s that, dear old Dad O’ Mine?”
”Never, ever, ever buy carpet that could double as Avery Schreiber’s mustache.”

Cool pad, man

2006-08-17T09:58:00.000-07:00

You got yer kinda reddish walls, yer gingham upholstery, yer clashing geometric rug, yer weird tied-up window shade, yer mod coffee table with pestle/ashtray and real apples to spoil and attract flies. Yep, this is what you call sophisticated decorating.

Let's bring the outside inside!

2006-08-17T09:56:00.000-07:00

Why be limited to society’s old-fashioned notions of what’s interior and exterior? Throw off the shackles of convention and bring the outside inside with this pseudo-clapboard wall. As a bonus, you can pretend you're sleeping under the stars in your outdoor bedroom.

Turn in your songbooks to Hymn 237, "Give Me that Old-Time Penned-in Feeling"

2006-08-17T09:51:00.000-07:00

All your cutting-edge seating came with sides that rose up to your earlobe. Because nothing spells comfort like c-l-a-u-s-t-r-o-p-h-o-b-i-a.

Bunk Beds of Death

2006-08-17T09:50:00.000-07:00

Hey, dear readers, it’s time for everybody’s favorite game, “Spot the Eventual Recall Notices”! See if you can count all the ways a child could maim himself on these hideous bunkbeds! (Retina damage from those sheets doesn’t count.)

Not much today

2006-08-14T17:24:00.000-07:00

I've been pretty busy (namedrop coming up) working on a Henry Cho feature (end namedrop) and some other stuff (that's the technical name for it, stuff), but I should have some new snarkage tomorrow. In the meantime, there's a new Homestar cartoon up, and here's a glimpse of what's to come.

Scary, ain't it?

Much snarky goodness on the way

2006-08-12T17:17:00.000-07:00

I'm currently seeing how much I can boost Alabama Power's revenue by running my scanner at 10/10ths, so I should soon have much to mock. Everything from a 50s manners book that has got to be seen to be believed to a 40s book of house plans to a 70s book of design ideas that was stolen right out of Mary Tyler Moore's sunken living room. Stay tuned.

And this humble blog scored 212 visits and 438 page views this week! Not that Drudge or Myspace is looking over their shoulder or anything, but still, it's pretty cool to me. Keep coming back and I'll keep dispensing this...whatever it is I dispense.

Petey knows watermelon

2006-08-11T07:03:00.000-07:00

Yes he does. Most of you have probably already seen this, but just in case, I'm posting it here. Cheerfully redundant, that's me.

Here's the "backstory," as they say in Hollywood. (Or so I'm told by Hollywood. They may actually call it "flargenhazzen" for all I know. "What's the flargenhazzen for this character's angst?" or "Have we adequately explained the flargenhazzen behind the ninja Shih Tzu sequence?") According to my exhaustive research (.2 seconds of Googling), Petey Greene was a well-known and beloved activist in Washington, D.C. , as you can see for yourself here. "Well, let’s cool it now. Slide on in, adjust the color of your television, hole up and get ready to groove with Petey Greene’s Washington." I wasn't aware of him until now, but evidently, he was a big-enough deal that Don Cheadle is making a movie about his life.

Furthermore, Greene wasn't known for being politically correct, for which I'm thankful to his posthumous self. (He died in 1984.) In this clip from his public-access show, he berates his brothers and sisters who are afraid to eat watermelon messily and in public, which is the only natural way to eat watermelon. I'm also completely going to start using "twang" the way he does in this video.

Does this butt make my dress look blood-stained?

2006-08-11T06:58:00.000-07:00

I’m telling you, Decatur, AL is some kind of Stephen King-ish vortex of strangeness. There's a reality series just waiting to happen up there. [My comments in brackets.]

Cigarette butt causes brawl among 4 neighbors

Four neighbors face charges after a tag-team-style rumble broke out over a cigarette butt that a guest casually tossed into a yard, police said Wednesday. [Golf clap for Seth Burkett, the reporter who wrote “tag-team-style rumble.” Nicely played, sir.]

The fight involved two parties, a brother and sister and a husband and wife, all who live in the 1600 block of Jackson Street Southeast, said Lt. Chris Mathews, a police spokesman.

At least three of the participants went to the hospital after Friday afternoon's melee, Mathews said.

"Now, this is all over a cigarette butt," Mathews said. [You’ve got to love Officer Mathews’ response. I imagine him saying it with a bemused look on his face, rolling his eyes, gesturing with his hands out, sarcasm oozing out of every pore.]

A guest of a 42-year-old man smoked as they stood in the yard and talked. When the guest finished the cigarette, he flicked it toward the edge of the yard, Mathews said.

A neighbor, 24, saw the butt and began yelling about it. [You know, some butts will do that to a feller.]

"According to several residents of the neighborhood, (the two neighbors) argued about this for the entire day," Mathews said.

During one of these arguments, the 42-year-old man's 32-year-old sister, who lives across the street, called the neighbor an expletive. [“You ain’t nothing but an expletive!” “You take that back. I ain’t no expletive. You know I’m a Methodist!”]

"(The neighbor) then tells her that he's not going to fight a woman, but when his wife gets home, he's going to bring her down there to whoop her a—," Mathews said. [Scuttlebutt has it that he also threatened to wreak havoc on e--, i--, o--, and u--.]

As promised, the neighbor later showed up at the sister's house with his 27-year-old wife in tow. A fight broke out between the women, during which the sister allegedly pulled out a pen and stabbed the wife once in the chest and once in the lower abdomen.

[Never bring a pen to a butt fight.]

The husband intervened at that point. Grabbing the sister by her hair and shoulders, he threw her down on the concrete walkway and began to drag her around, police said. [Neanderthal jokes are just too easy here. Write your own, trade them amongst your friends, collect the whole set.]

The brother came out of his house and saw the husband beating up his sister, so he ran across the street and pulled the husband off her, punching him several times.

The husband pulled "something" out of his pocket, police said, and punched the brother in the face, causing him to stagger backward. The husband then punched him several more times.

The fight ended when the husband helped his bleeding wife off the ground and took her down the street to call an ambulance.

The wife, who faces a harassment charge, was taken to Decatur General Hospital, where she was treated for two puncture wounds.

It was unknown whether her husband, who faces charges of third-degree assault and harassment, sought medical treatment, police said.

The sister, who faces a third-degree assault charge, went by private vehicle to Decatur General Hospital. She told police she suffered head and back injuries when she was thrown to the pavement.

Her brother, who is charged with harassment, also went to the hospital, suffering a broken nose, a broken wrist, and possibly a fractured orbit around his left eye. [The last time a butt caused this much of a ruckus, it was attached to Jennifer Lopez! Thank you, thank you! I’ll be here all week.]

Update: Forgot to add that this was sent in by eagle-eyed reader and Decatur resident Donny, who insists that he was in no way involved in the butt ruckus. Sure you weren't.

Rock Around the Snark

2006-08-09T17:24:00.000-07:00

Aww, 1954. I remember it well. I mean, except for the fact I was almost a decade away from being born. Other than that, I remember the heck out of that year. Hudson and Nash-Kelvinator merged to form American Motors, a vortex of suckitude that the universe is still recovering from. Marilyn Monroe married Joe DiMaggio, inspiring millions of previously baseballophobic schoolboys to spend every waking hour on the diamond. Bill Haley and the Comets recorded "Rock Around the Clock," which led to the Great Hair Goop Price Spike of '54. And Family Circle magazine published a December issue that, 52 years later, I'd make fun of.

Enjoy.

Fruits in cahoots

2006-08-09T17:23:00.000-07:00

The ad isn't really that snark-worthy. It's actually pretty appetizing, although I don't know about their suggestion to pour fruit cocktail on ice cream. I just posted the ad because I love the phrase "5 luscious fruits in 'Sweet Cahoots.'"

It has to taste bad to be good for you

2006-08-09T17:21:00.000-07:00

"Off with your wet things," spake the Foul-tasting Mouthwash Queen, and woe be unto the subject who didn't heed her word.

Bonus cool points for including the phrase "at the first sign of a sneeze or cough, increase the frequency of the gargle." As Dave Barry would say, "Frequency of the Gargle" would be a good name for a rock band.

It tastes pretty vile, but at least there's the purty glass

2006-08-09T17:19:00.000-07:00

I'll confess that I've never before heard the expression "jig time." I assume it means very quickly, although for all I know, there's some kind of Lithuanian jig that takes hours to perform, like a Phillip Glass concerto.

The cheese spread came in eight flavors, including relish, "Vera-Sharp," "nippy" Cheese 'N Bacon, and "Smokey." Only you can prevent processed foodstuffs.