Archive for ‘video’

July 27, 2009

‘That’s Just the Rule 5 Way It Is!’

Little Miss Attila encounters the original inspiration for the Paul Anka Integrity Kick:

Seeing that was like watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show for the first time . . .

Indeed, and with Goldsteinesque appreciation for intentionality, I feel obligated to provide some (unfortunately necessary) clarification on the origins and purpose of Rule 5.

Donald Douglas is a good guy, and the blogospheric round-robin consensus that he pushed the rule beyond its reasonable limit does not diminish his good-guy status. One of the things about “edgy” humor is that you never know where the edge actually is until you’ve gone over it. Certainly, I cannot cast the first stone.

‘Pork Marlene Desmond?’
The sociological purpose of an inside joke is as a signifier of membership, an acknowledgment of shared experience. When I was at the Rome News-Tribune, there was a group of us guys in the newsroom who were all fans of Animal House and Blazing Saddles.

So when special-projects editor Pierre Rene-Noth issued an editorial memo to the newsroom, business editor John Willis would say, “Now what’ll that a**hole think of next?” To which the only response was, “Somebody’s gotta go back and get a s***load of dimes!”

Or, if you drew one of those short-straw assignments, city editor Mike Colombo would say, “You f***ed up — you trusted us!” Such a reference might lead to an extended riff-fest: “Will that work?” “Hey, it’s gotta work better than the truth.”

The whole point of this silly riffing was to humorously reassure each other that we were all sharing the same miserable fate (“Mongo only pawn in game of life.”) and thus maintain some some semblance of esprit d’corps among the wretches pulling the oars on this galley.

After I moved to Washington, I was mortified to discover that, in the newsroom of The Washington Times, the appropriate signifiers on the national desk were Caddyshack and Seinfeld, so that (a) I didn’t always get their in-jokes, and (b) my own accustomed in-jokes did not elicit the appropriate chuckles of recognition.

To make matters worse, over the course of the next decade, turnover in the staff meant that we increasingly had younger staffers for whom all such references were as opaque as the Dead Sea Scrolls. (On the upside, however, your average 20-something’s shortage of cultural referents means an old guy can recycle ancient vaudeville gags and be considered inventively witty: “If I could walk that way, I wouldn’t need the talcum powder!”)

Pirate’s Cove and the Zero Hour
As I’ve explained before, but perhaps should explain again, the credit (or blame) for inspiring Rule 5 is split three ways:

  • A back-and-forth Christina Hendricks riff with Stephen Green of VodkaPundit in the gloomy weeks following the 2008 election, when political blog traffic plummeted precipitously.
  • Five days a week, Conservative Grapevine includes links to bikini babes at the end of its news aggregation and — as John Hawkins has pointed out — the bikini links consistently get more clicks than all the rest.
  • Every Sunday, William Teach at Pirate’s Cove does Sorta Blogless Sunday Pinup, an aggregation post featuring classic pinup art.

Back in the day — and remember, my first month of full-time blogging here (March 2008) I had a grand total of 6,000 visitors — involved repeated encounters with that awful moment experienced by every newbie blogger, The Zero Hour: You toil into the night to create what you think is the most brilliant post ever, e-mail the link to several bloggers (Rule 1), go to bed, wake up at 5 a.m., log on expecting your SiteMeter to be spiking off the charts and . . . nothing. Your most recent hourly traffic was a big, fat zero.

OK, you could buy a “secrets of blogging” book (Secret Tip No. 1: Be A Cute Chick) or sign up for a class on how to enhance your blog traffic. Or you could stick your head in the oven and end it all.

If neither of those options is appealing, however, there’s the DIY method: Obsessively study the craft, apply what you learn, and resourcefully bootstrap your own trial-and-error solution to the ubiquitous blogger problem of traffic suckage.

Also, listen to your wife. After about my third or fourth Instalanche, my wife said, “Let me guess: Was it one of your smart-ass comments?” Well . . . yeah, it was. My wife said, “See? You should be funny. You’re good at that.”

At any rate, there were some Sundays in the early going when, if it hadn’t been for inclusion in the Pirate’s Cove aggregation, I wouldn’t have had 100 visits for the whole day. So when it came time to celebrate our first million hits, to have omitted Rule 5 would have been an act of negligence and ingratitude. You’ve got to give something back, see?

‘Land-Snatching . . . See: Snatch’

Hedley Lamarr: My mind is a raging torrent, flooded with rivulets of thought cascading into a waterfall of creative alternatives.
Taggart: Golldarn it, Mr. Lamarr, you use your tongue prettier than a $20 whore.

And so we behold Donald Douglas and the “Erin Andrews nude” Google-bomb, still pounding it as relentlessly as Andrew Sullivan in the back row of the cineplex during a Patrick Swayze film festival.

When we crossed the 2 million threshold, I used the occasion to suggest that maybe it was time to “step away from the peephole,” but Donald keeps milking it like Andrew Sul . . . Never mind. Supply your own disturbing mental image. I refuse to take responsibility for the emergency brain-bleach shortage that would result if I completed that sentence.

My point is that now Cassandra of Villainous Company is becoming so offended, she’s threatening to remove her sexy garter-flashing pinup art — and we can’t let that happen. Like some sort of well-intentioned mad scientist, I’ve created a monster (Frankencheesecake?) and now the villagers are storming the castle with pitchforks and torches.

What’s weird is that Professor Douglas is now able to provide Erin Andrews nude citations from the Hartford Courant and Howard Kurtz. It’s one of those viral memes that is unlikely to stop spreading anywhere this side of the Wall Street Journal or the Christian Science Monitor.

How can we lure Donald out of the swirling vortex — a torrent, one might say — of Erin Andrews nude?

‘We Have to Go All Out’

Otter: I think that this situation absolutely requires a really futile and stupid gesture be done on somebody’s part.
Bluto: And we’re just the guys to do it.

Fighting fire with fire, and inspired by the success of National Offend A Feminist Week, I hereby declare July 27-Aug. 2 to be International Rule 5 BikiniFest Week. (Smitty: “Now what’ll that a**hole think of next?”)

We’ll have a daily contest, recognizing the best of each day’s entries, and culminate next Sunday by awarding the 2009 Rule 5 BikiniFest Week Grand Prize. Here are the rules:

  • PG-13. You’ll be disqualified for prizes if you go too far, so use your best judgment, guys. Generally speaking, anything more revealing than the sexy bikini picture of Mrs. Other McCain risks disqualification. Smitty will be the final arbiter of this rule, although I may be available for consultation on particularly difficult cases.
  • Bikinis preferred, but not mandatory. Glamour/lingerie photos will also be considered. Mrs. Other McCain has never minded me looking at the Victoria’s Secret catalog, so long as I buy her something nice and lacy for Christmas. However, keep in mind the “PG-13” rule. Of the 15 photos in this Miranda Kerr Victoria’s Secret pictorial, the three topless photos would probably risk disqualification. However, Smitty is the final arbiter.
  • Sorry, ladies: No beefcake. Given that the whole point of this exercise is to tempt Professor Douglas away from his traffic-hungry Erin Andrews frenzy, photos of studly bare-chested macho dudes (NTTAWWT) will be ineligible for prizes, although Smitty may decide to link those posts anyway.
  • No minors. Anyone posting bikini photos of Miley Cyrus or Selena Gomez will be immediately disqualified. Ex-jailbait princesses — Britney Spears, Lindsay Lohan, etc. — are eligible, but only if the photos were indisputably taken after the subjects turned 18, you sick freak, you.
  • No Erin Andrews. Speaking of sick freaks, whoever drilled that peephole and recorded that video needs to be strung up by his scrotum and repeatedly cattle-prodded where it hurts the most. No criminal voyeurism, no bondage, no whips, no chains, no handcuffs, dog-collars or nipple-clips — do we need to go ahead and specifically rule out bestiality and necrophilia, or is the general idea clear? We want healthy, wholesome cheesecake of the kind that any red-blooded truck mechanic would be pleased to see rendered as art in a Gil Elvgren classic pinup calendar. Again, Smitty is the final arbiter.

So there you have it: Thanks to Dr. Douglas and this disgusting peephole video, bloggers now have a perfect excuse to post babelicious bikini pics every day of the week. Just post the babes and e-mail your links to Smitty. In addition to reciprocal linkage, winners will be eligible for the the prize of one beer, if you should ever happen to catch me in a bar with money in my pocket — and good luck with that.

Will this crazy scheme work? If it doesn’t, we may have to send SWAT units and the hostage negotiation team to try to talk Dr. Douglas away from Erin Andrews nude.

The amazing coincidence here is that International Rule 5 BikiniFest Week just happens to occur during the nadir of the mid-summer doldrums, when our blog traffic would otherwise suck worse than Andrew Sul . . . oh, you don’t really expect me to finish that sentence, do you? Hit the tip jar, or I just might, and in such a way that you’ll never get enough brain-bleach to erase that mental image.

July 20, 2009

VIDEO: Extended-Release Stimulusol(TM)

From The Nose On Your Face:

Just give me the Rohypnol and maybe something for the next-day discomfort after being forcibly gang-sodomized by SEIU, IRS, EPA, UAW, NEA, NARAL, ACORN, PPFA, AFSCME . . .

May 23, 2009

But ‘Pussy’ is only implied!

The RNC released this video about Nancy Pelosi’s attacks on the CIA, using a James Bond theme and finishing with the tagline, “Lack of Leadership. Democrats Galore.” This is a play on the name Pussy Galore, the evil woman in the 1964 Bond flick, Goldfinger. As Darleen Click at Protein Wisdom says, “all kerfuffle breaks loose.”

Try to read Taylor Marsh’s hissie fit (this term is a derivative of hysteria, whose Greek roots remind us that the patriarchy has been oppressing womyn for 3,000 years) and never forget the accusation: It’s Republicans who don’t have a sense of humor.

Too bad this happened too late for National Offend A Feminist Week. But thanks to the RNC for keeping alive the festive holiday spirit.

(Hat tip: Memeorandum.)

UPDATE: Excuse me, but Allah is just wrong:

I’d love to know who among the Republican brain trust thought this was a good idea. Even if their motives were pure, after seeing what happened to Limbaugh’s “I hope he fails” comment, they simply have to be more attuned to how their message will be received and whether they’re giving their opponents easy opportunities to distort it.

No, this is brilliant. Get your enemy to promote your message, and do it in such a way that everybody who clicks will sit through the whole video in hopes of seeing — “Pussy!” — what the Left tells them they’re going to see.

The joke is on the critics, of course, since the same term is a common substitute for “wimp,” and “Democrats Galore” rather cuts to the heart of what the GOP is really trying to say about Democrats’ approach to national security, eh?

Lighten up, man. Jimmie Bise has more on Pelosi-palooza, and Donald Douglas shows the vastness of Pelosia’s gaping idiocy.

(P.S.: Note that when feminists are promoting The Vagina Monologues, it’s “empowering” to shout this from the rooftops. Only when Republicans try it does the Left suddenly become as prudish as a Victorian schoolmarm.)

Update II: by Smitty
Joe Gandelman at The Moderate Voice delivers unintended comedy:

But it’s indicative of the continued lowering of the bar of American political discourse: even by the increasingly sleazy standard of political ads utilized by both sides, this ad is a particularly smelly one.

I’m not sure what clip you watched, Joe, but the one I saw was roughly as sleazy as, say, a Police Squad episode. Recommend good diet and excercise, Mr. Gandelman.

May 10, 2009

Just call me Lucas, ma’am

A post about “cowboy values” at The American Thinker inspires Pundette to muse at the Hot Air Green Room:

So mamas, go git yurself some Westerns fur yur young ‘uns to watch this weekend. Ah’m right parshull to the television series The Rifleman. In addition to the qualities above, Lucas McCain and the folks in North Fork believe in personal responsibility, risk-taking, hard work, and no cussin’ in front of the womenfolk.

Ah, The Rifleman! Arguably (and yes, I know this will inspire fierce arguments from fans of “Gunsmoke”) the best television Western ever. It debuted the year before I was born, ran for five seasons, played in re-runs forever, and the delightful coincidence of the protagonist’s surname meant that I spent years answering to, “Hey, Lucas!”

For those too young to remember, here is the famous opening sequence, followed by the closing credits:

Like other frontier icons of that era — Fess Parker as Davy Crockett, for example — Lucas McCain was an ideal role model, a paragon of virtue. His actions were always just. His words were always wise. And the Rifleman was utterly fearless.

Manly courage was the essence of Lucas McCain. It didn’t matter how numerous the bad guys were, Lucas was never going to be intimidated. Why? Because he knew he was fighting on the side of right.

Lucas McCain was always the friend of the helpless, always a defender of the weak, always the righteous avenger of those done wrong by the selfish and vicious. And the series took pains to show that Lucas was, by nature, peaceful and amiable. He had a cheerful sense of humor, and could always smile at the mischief of his boy, Mark. There was a poignant nostalgia in his heart for his late wife.

That Lucas was a widower — a key scriptwriter’s convenience he shared with many another fatherly protagonist of the 1950s and ’60s — allowed for the development of romantic subplots. There frequently seemed to be some lovestruck schoolmarm in need of rescue, and you could be sure that in his conduct toward her, Lucas McCain would be impeccably honorable, the embodiment of medieval courtliness transposed to the rustic terms of the 19th-century American frontier.

He was loved by women because Lucas was a man’s man. This aspect of the Rifleman’s character expresses a great truth that I would advise any young man to contemplate: If you wish to be admired by women, conduct yourself in such a way as to win the respect of men.

You will always notice that the man who is genuinely popular with women is not a selfish, dishonest, cowardly loner, but is the sort of frank, generous and cheerful comrade who is always a welcome companion to his fellow man. He is a team player, always ready in the hour of crisis, and modest enough not to care whether he receives public credit for his good deeds. He does what is right because it is right, confident that his true merit will be known among those courageous souls who shared the burden of his labors.

Lucas McCain was not a show-off, not a braggart, not a bully. He never lied, he never quit. His quiet confidence inspired others to hope that humble virtue must ultimately triumph over arrogant evil. He never started a fight, and always sought to avert violence, so long as it could be averted without dishonor or injustice. But when it was time to fight, he was never afraid, and when the fight was over, the bad guys were always vanquished. The good, the true and the right were vindicated. And Lucas was standing tall.

Which is to say, he was not remotely like David Brooks.

Having just completed the celebration of National Offend A Feminist Week, I should point out that I often fall woefully short of the high mark set by Lucas McCain. Yet I alway know where the mark is set, you see.

Therefore, I agree wholeheartedly with Pundette. If you want your sons or grandsons to have a role model of old-fashioned manly virtue, The Rifleman is the man for the job.

May 3, 2009

VIDEO: HOT YOUNG SUSAN BOYLE!

Wow! The backup group is crappy, but she clearly had something back in 1984:

Hat-tip: Hot Air Headlines.

The woman who, in middle age, sprang to stardom on “Britain Got Talent,” was a very polished performer at age 22 but, for whatever reason, never got a break. This kind of situation — the undiscovered talent — is really more common than might be imagined by people who aren’t in the music business.

I used to know a bartender in Georgia who was a tremendous R&B singer. At one point, he had been under contract as singer for the group that eventually became famous as the Atlanta Rhythm Section. For whatever reason — he told me the story, but I’ve forgotten now — it just didn’t work out, and he never really got another shot.

UPDATE: ‘Lanches, light the corners of my mind . . .

UPDATE II: Some commenters are saying that Susan Boyle’s thick eyebrows explain her lack of ’80s stardom. Let me remind you of something:


That’s Brooke Shields on the cover of German Vogue in 1984, when thick eyebrows on women were all the rage. Well, Susan Boyle’s eyes weren’t quite as startling and her mouth wasn’t quite as pouty as Brooke’s, and so everybody in the comments is saying that Susan didn’t become a singing star 25 years ago because she needed a pair of tweezers. I think the explanation is otherwise, but I’m waiting for someone else to tell me what it is.

UPDATE III: OK, some of you guys in the comments (talking about the fact that there 5,000 musical geniuses waiting tables and driving forklifts in Nashville) are getting closer to the truth about the situation. Now check out my attempt to explain why Susan Boyle went undiscovered.

May 2, 2009

Video: Gay gynephobia

Look, I’ve made clear my disapproval of breast implants. So now, watch as Keith Olbermann and Michael Musto make clear their disapproval of . . . vagina:

Please remind me of this video, next time a feminist calls me a misogynist.

UPDATE: Welcome, Instapundit readers! Meanwhile, Allahpundit has this video of Laura Ingraham and the viciously intolerant Gloria Feldt:

Notice how Feldt says that Prejean “has a right to her opinion.” Leftists don’t actually mean this. The whole point of the gay-rights movement is to abolish your right to disagree with them.

Linked by Hedgehog Blog and Daley Gator.

UPDATE II: BTW, the Ingraham/Feldt interview is the kind of TV I hate. Feldt filibusters and interrupts; Ingraham becomes derisive. As a journalist, it has always been my thought that, when interviewing someone who is transparently wrong, the best policy is to give them enough rope to hang themselves. I wish Ingraham had let Feldt finish her prefab talking points and then hit her with a hard question.

As to Feldt’s talking points: She began with the assertion that “feminism is about justice and equality,” which ideology Prejean is accused of betraying and therefore (to complete the syllogism) Prejean is not a feminist.

Which is correct. I have argued explicitly (a) that feminism is wrong precisely because it is a radical egalitarian ideology and (b) that the same-sex marriage argument is based on the same fallacious doctrine. Please see my American Spectator column, “Marriage: A Hill to Die On,” as well as “Whither Marriage?” and “Gay Rights, Gay Rage.”

The argument against same-sex marriage can only prevail if we begin by rejecting the assertion that men and women are “equal” in the sense that feminists mean it — identical and therefore interchangeable.

In fact, men and women are different, and it is their differences that create the necessary complementarity of marriage. Insofar as we accept the counterfactual feminist ideology of legally-mandated androgyny — that men and women are the same, and thus fungible — then it becomes impossible to argue coherently that it makes any difference whether you marry a man or a woman.

UPDATE: Dan Collins reminds Musto and Olby that “despite what your girlfriends may tell you, catty, stupid, vicious, jealous, ugly and self-righteous is no way to go through life, son.” I’ve got some related stuff here.

April 21, 2009

McCain on Palin sex video?

No, I mean, Meghan McCain:

The latest Tweet from McCain: “I used to have the hugest crush on Eminem when I was in high school and he still looks hot in his new music video!!”
This would be, presumably, the music video in which Eminem depicts himself having sex with Sarah Palin.

Allahpundit is worried that the negative attention to Meghan’s Twitter blatherings will cause her to stop Tweeting. BTW, here’s the Eminem video:

March 20, 2009

The Dark Night of Patriarchal Oppression

Big hat tip to Dan Collins for discovering this groundshaking documentary video, exposing the heinous reality of misogynistic sexism before the triumph of the women’s movement:

March 4, 2009

Video: ‘Cougar Barbie’

My JSU classmate Gloria Grady recently turned 50, and someone sent her this video:

Apparently this was on the Jay Leno show a few weeks ago, but I hadn’t seen it. If you’ve already seen it, excuse me if it’s kinda old. (NTTAWWT.)

February 22, 2009

$1 Million a Day for 2,000 Years

That’s still less than Congress just spent on the Obama/Pelosi/Reid $800 billion “stimulus” plan.

Powerful video from The American Issues Project, which has a 35-page PDF with the facts about the “stimulus.”