Two pieces of string walk into a bar in Germany, circa 1942.
The bartender looks at them menacingly and says, “We don’t serve your kind here!”
The two strings sit outside on the curb, thirsty and depressed. One of the strings says, “I’ve got an idea!” He twists and turns, wriggles, and roughs of the threads on his ends.
The other string says, “What are you doing?”
The roughed-up, twisted string replies, “Watch me!”
Both strings walk back into the bar. The bartender, still in a bad mood, sees the two strings sauntering back in.
He reaches under the bar and pulls out a pistol. He shoots one of the strings dead. BANG.
He turns to the roughed-up string and asks, “Well? You’re a string too, aren’t you!”
The string replies, “I’m afraid, Nazi!”
They bring the food, and you eat it.
How wonderful is that?
So, this weekend MizSplotchy and I went to see the new Sam Raimi movie Drag Me To Hell.
We ended up going up to Rosemont to the Muvico 18 Theater, a palatial looking newish building that is quite visible from I-294.
It was nice to go to a chain that I hadn’t been to before. I tend to build up resentment for a given movie chain if I see too many movies at their theaters (hello, Kerasotes!).
The experience was enjoyable enough, minus the fucking obligatory commercials that we moviegoers are forced to endure. The movie itself was a lot of fun, and I’m really glad that we went out to see it.
The thing I liked most about our moviegoing experience was the Muvico logo:
Wow, the anthropomorphized film reel is really giving it to the star, isn’t it?
We’re visiting my folks in Springfield.
When we’re here MizSplotchy and I usually try to go see a movie on one of the nights, after the kids have gone to bed.
This weekend was no exception. Last night we saw the new Indiana Jones movie, which was pretty much what we expected it would be.
All the movie theaters in Springfield are owned and run by Kerasotes Theatres.
We were purchasing treats prior to the movie, and this was the image on the soda fountain facing toward the moviehouse patrons.
Note the Kerasotes “K” overlaying the Coca-Cola logo, which combined displays the very appealing name “Cockola”. And of course the icing on the cake is the sign’s entreaty to “Taste the Magic”.
So, MizSplotchy and I are flipping channels a month or so ago, ’cause there’s nothing on the TV.
We come across a VH1 documentary series on heavy metal, Heavy: The Story Of Metal — the chapter we saw was focusing a lot on the hair metal bands of the 80’s.
We didn’t know what we had lucked into. There was a rant by Warrant’s lead singer Jani Lane about the misery rained down on him from writing the song “Cherry Pie”, which was one of the funniest things I have seen in recent memory.
MizSplotchy was wandering the Internets today and found the Jani Lane clip from the show, so I can now present it to you in all its glory.
Jani Lane – The Cherry Pie Guy
This photograph was taken during a recent hunt for negative space signage.
You witnessed the ribald humor of my daughter.
You scratched your head at the enigmatic pondering from my eldest son.
Now I present my two year old’s contribution to the knock knock joke.
Son: Knock knock who’s there monster
Me: Monster who?
A couple months ago, I posted a knock-knock joke from my daughter.
I have now one to share from my eldest son (four years old). It’s not quite as ribald, but I like it.
Son: Knock knock.
Me: Who’s there?
Me: Nobody who?
Here’s a few more random observations about the kids.
1. I recently overheard my eldest son singing “Take Me Out To The Ballgame” to himself, but for some reason he was singing it as “take me out to the ball stretch”.
2. A couple doors down some people have a stuffed Frankenstein on their front porch, sitting in a chair. My kids unhumorously call it “Franken Einstein” (I think I might have pointed out a picture of Albert Einstein to them at some point).
3. My four-year old daughter has recently learned about the Incredible Hulk, and is now currently obsessed with *being* the Hulk. I recently taught her the line “Don’t make me angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”, which she is now fond of saying before she starts stomping around the house.
All the above is proof why kids are so much better than adults. It’s not even close, people.