The 2016 Grammy’s may have been last month, but 57 years ago the first Grammy Award ceremony was held. It was called the Gramophone Awards and the first one occurred on May 4, 1959. The Grammy’s were not televised live until the 70s, so us poor fools had to wait until it aired to see the clothes featured in the 1st annual ratings-machine.
In 1959, 22 awards were presented in a simultaneous ceremony on both coasts. A whopping three awards were given to the Chipmunks, . They were for Best Recording for Children, Best Comedy Performance, and Best Engineered Record (Non-Classical). Go Chipmunks, you might have been the worst gimmick ever done to music at that point in time, but you were given AWARDS so what do I know! The Grammies are obviously qualified to be music tastemakers.
Growing up in the South (as a PROUD SOUTHERNER) I was offered a variety of food and drink items on a regular basis. Most of these were good. We’re talking about your fried chicken, watermelon, grape soda, SOME BBQ, Cheerwine, and other assorted Southern delicacies. This was quite pleasing, as they were always being offered and seemingly readily abundant. There are however a few Southern staples that don’t please me. There are a few food and drink items that downright disgust me. The big problem is that those were just as readily available and were being offered to me just as often. But one item stood out above all others… and it was a beverage. In fact, I don’t think it even deserves to be called a beverage. It’s swill. The foulest swill. It haunted me throughout my childhood. One sip and I turned into Jim Carrey, my face contorting wildly, jaw jutting out further than my bone structure allowed. Much like Jim Carrey, this was no laughing matter.
I was plagued my entire goddamn childhood by SWEET TEA!
There are all kinds of cat breeds out there in the world. I pretty much have only ever known fat domestic tabbies and tortoiseshells, maybe the odd Maine Coon Cat here and there, but there are so many kinds! There may be as many as 73 different breeds, according to the internet. Mostly, the cat shape remains the same with variations in size or fur and eye colors. Some cats are strange with less ear or leg or absence of tail or fur. In fact, it is the hairless cat which, to me, is the strangest of all. (For the record, to me, the saddest of all is the Munchkin because I believe that cats should be able to jump anywhere they want, including places they are unwanted such as on top of a refrigerator or bookshelf).
But today, I’m looking at the Sphynx.
Well, I’m not looking too closely. I’m uncomfortably averting my eyes!
It’s Jack Chick’s birthday today, supposedly. I am not convinced he is still alive, but here we are. What a trooper. What a hard-working excellent model of what to do as a cartoonist, except for all the content. And any of his other ideas, aside from being a cartoonist.
Read these, like newspaper comics, as if you are reading about the creator. (I see you, Jim Davis. You cannot escape our scrutiny, Tom Wilson and Tom Wilson II.) However, he doesn’t write them, God gives them to him. So are we reading about God? Are we reading about Jack Chick? Are we reading about a team of cartoonists publishing under his name? The world may never know.
Considering the weird and angry comments about our Star Trek post even though the post was very clearly a joke, I almost did not write this. But, oh yeah, who cares?
You will see it all over the internet. You will see it on real news sites, viral sites, Facebook rants, Twitter hashtags, angry memes, and unfortunately you will even hear it right into your own ears: people shouting about how spec work sucks, you shouldn’t do it, and nobody should ask about it.
People refer to it a lot of different ways, but what we’re talking about here is doing (usually) creative work for free. You guys are gonna hate me for this, but here is how I feel about it: I WILL DO CREATIVE WORK FOR FREE AND SO WILL AMANDOLL.
The literary world is rich and full of wonder. I know that we are all avid readers of fine books and voracious readers of fine periodicals and delicious websites that offer fine journalism such as the one you are reading right this very minute. Reading what has been written is a joy that every literate person takes pleasure in, and if you know of anyone who is illiterate, why not be their hero and teach them to read? Or donate to charities, because everyone loves donating to charities!
Anyway, I am here to talk about a nursery rhyme. Adults often overlook nursery rhymes in the Land of Literature. We memorize them when we are very small, then cast them aside once we can comprehend child fictions about riding horses, or little books about not being afraid of the dark, or not being afraid of failure, or owning and riding dinosaurs, or having imaginary friends. But those first nursery rhymes are very important for us as tiny youths, and we probably still have most of them buried away in our brains, ready to be recited at the drop of any old hat anywhere.
The subjects of a lot of these nursery rhymes are actually kind of creepy. We have all heard about that one rhyme really being about the bubonic plague horrors and everyone dying. There are others too, so it stands to reason that pretty much all of these rhymes are based on adult themes and death and destruction, or in the case of that disgusting Georgie Porgie – date rape.
Do you spend a lot of money in stores and online? Do you just buy whatever you want, whenever you want, regardless of price or savings that you have? Are you a window- and also store-shopper? Do you sometimes wonder why anyone allowed you to have a credit card in the first place?
Well I’m no expert, in anything, but I have some advice, as usual.
Just follow these simple steps and you’ll be on your way to spending less in no time.
Everyone likes to drink. It’s a goddamn American pastime as far as I know. And until casual drugs are legalized across the country, it will continue to be people’s preferred way of losing their minds in a social gathering, or just at home by themselves. It’s a great way to blow off some steam, or make your life and everyone around you slightly more tolerable. Generally, it’s a good time for all. Unfortunately a problem arises when someone just doesn’t know how to deal with drinking: the Excessive Drinker. Usually these are the people who are the loudest or most obnoxious people in the bar. They have had way too much drank, and they have no idea how to control themselves. Anyone who has been out on a weekend has seen it, and it’s not a pretty sight. Nobody wants to be that person. And we’re not going to let you become that person.
The below guide is here to help you on your way in the art of excessive alcohol consumption. What? You just thought it was as easy as taking as many shots as possible and hoping you don’t die of alcohol poisoning? That’s a big rookie mistake! Go in with that attitude and you’ll be waking up naked in the middle of an alley with a prolapsed colon in no time. No one wants that. Or at least no one SHOULD want that. Take heed of the following tips, and you’ll be able to enjoy your new-found life as an alcoholic that much more. So get those bottles lined up, we have a lot of things to cover before you get too drunk to remember any of it.
Ho ho ho, or so I am told. It is Christmas Day both far and wide as I write this. Almost everyone knows everything there is to know about this Christian holiday thanks to television, movies, radio, every single store, and the mouths of anyone you might eavesdrop on. Chances are, someone you know might even celebrate it, religiously!
Here at the Sneer Campaign, we enjoy wrapping and giving gifts, and maybe one of us likes decorating a tree. I’m actually not a very Christmassy person, but Dollissa wrote about Hanukkah, so it’s my turn to take one for the team. Also, I didn’t send out cards in time, and that’s the only tradition for this holiday that I actually enjoy. Sorry!
Please accept this drawing as my card to you, everyone who missed getting real tangible mail from me this year.
There was a news item out recently concerning the nature of friendships between humans and chickens. In it, the Center of Disease Control suggested that perhaps, just maybe, the new farming generation should create a more businesslike environment on their small hobby farms. Some people believe that happy chickens produce tastier, more healthful eggs, and seem to think that strong friendships are the key to happy chickens. In an effort to put the chickens at ease, they snuggle with them and apparently give them delicate smooches about the head and beak (and that is all, I hope). The CDC is totally grossed out, and AlexT, Dollissa, and I are OUTRAGED. As usual.
We don’t know for sure if kissing a chicken will get it to grow a better egg. But we DO know that we are being consumed with jealousy that we don’t have chickens of our own! We like egg-based meals! We like the sounds chickens make! We have watched documentaries about these things! I even have a book about raising chickens! It is a grave injustice that out of the three, zero of us have any chicken friends.
I made a comic out of our conversation, but do not be misled. This is not a comedy chat I have drawn. It is a true modern tragedy.