SAXOPHONE=PEOPLE DOIN' IT

So there I was on the sofa, watching a little Magnum P.I.
This certainly isn't a rarity at my place. Not sure what it is, but I can't get enough Magnum P.I. This show has it all: Hawaii, intrigue, a Ferrari, women with feathered hair and frosted lips---it's 1980's TV at it's finest.


Anyway, at a certain point, Magnum was about to get laid.
How did I know this?
It wasn't because his already tight OP shorts bulged with a boner.
It wasn't the twitching of his moustache.
It wasn't because Higgins put a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door.

It was because the saxophone music swelled.

And it got me to thinking:
TV was so much simpler in the 1980's. You heard that saxophone music play and you knew intercourse was about to commence. In fact, that brassy sound was the harbinger of fornication. Moreover, David Sanborn (see above) telegraphed sexual intent on a regular basis.

Now it seems that the saxophone as love makin' audio cue has gone out of fashion.
People just wind up naked and I am totally unprepared for it. I'll look up from a crossword or picking my toes to find tits and tongue all over my TV screen. It's slightly unsettling.

So I say:
With other 80's trends such as skinny jeans and huge belts over t-shirts making a comeback, why not resurrect the saxophone as instrument of sex?

ASS ASSESSMENTS

So-
I was just thinking about an ex co-worker of mine.
A while back, he stumbled into work, slumped into his chair and announced, "I love puttin' it up the butt."
I turned in his direction and said, "Well, that's nice. Everybody needs a hobby."
Undaunted, he continued with "Seriously man. I'd buy my woman any kinda Coach bag, any kinda...you know...shoes. I'd give her mad cash if she gave me anal on the reg. Not just like on my birthday or Christmas. But on the reg."

I wished him best of luck with his quest for anal on the reg. Although I reminded him that he shouldn't take for granted the wondrous, nutmeg scented joy of holiday anal.

For the entire day, he continued to assess women as to whether or not he'd "put it up the butt".
Any woman who dared stray too close to him was subject to his anal analysis. Producers, editors, interns. The cleaner even made his assessment that much easier by bending over to empty his trash.

As it turned out, only one woman was not worthy of his anal attentions, primarily because she had smelly breath. He then changed his mind and said, "Maybe I'd buy her some gum. Then I'd put it up the butt."

Another co-worker and I were discussing a new employee at the Assignment Desk, stating how competent, kind and smart she was. Naturally this guy butted in and said, "I'd put it up the butt."

The point is: some people really have no business doing employee reviews.

BLACKBALLED AT THE NUDIST CAMP

Good morning Peons!
Today, we have a new mystery to solve...

PARIS (Reuters) - France's data protection authority has given permission for a nudist resort to keep a "black list" of guests barred from its facilities, the organization said.
The Rene Oltra nudist center in southern France was obliged to seek permission after a person complained of being denied a reservation, the authority said on its website. French law requires organizations to seek authorization to keep lists of individuals denied use of their services.
Contacted by Reuters, the resort declined to give further details regarding individual's exclusion from its site.
The centre's rules require guests to abide by its "naturist ethic" of nudity at all times, weather permitting, and bans upsetting other guests or failing to observe hygiene standards.
"But nudity is not exhibitionism. Any indecent behavior will be sanctioned by immediate exclusion," the rules say.

Now-
While this is very interesting, they neglect to explain why these guests are being barred.
Thus, I am forced to draw my own conclusions.

POSSIBLE REASONS A PERSON COULD BE BARRED FROM A NUDIST CAMP:

1. Skips around a little too carelessly with scalding hot Starbucks coffee.

2. Repeatedly accosts other nudists with the accusation: "Hey, you got your chocolate in my peanut butter!"

3. Tends to experience severe "treatment effects" after cheating on the ALLI Weight Loss Program

4. Looks, points and says, "Man! Check out that gunt. I thought there was a no fat chicks policy here! Where's the fucking manager? If I wanted to see Orca I'd go to Sea World."

5. Does morning "yoga" a la the Anonymous Obama supporter from the "Smokin' Presidential Polls" post.

Any other ideas?

POWER TO THE MOUSTACHE!

On the whole, I'm a pretty lazy person. I'm not what you'd call an activist. Odds are you won't find me in Union Square on a random Saturday, passing out flyers, crusading on behalf of downtrodden Alaskan skateboarders/Pimply street meat vendors/Fat people who can't fit into airline seats.
But I think I may have found a cause worthy of my ire, sweat and Sharpied placards...

Japanese Postman Fights For Moustache

TOKYO (AFP) - Japanese lawyers are rallying behind a postman whose boss told him he had to shave off his moustache to comply with grooming standards for letter carriers.
The bar association in the western city of Osaka said Wednesday that the order against 55-year-old postman Noboru Nakamura was "irrational" and violated his human rights.
"Having a moustache is part of an individual lifestyle and should be an individual decision," said Kazuo Okawa, a lawyer for the bar association.

Where can I donate to this cause?
Where is the rally/rubber chicken charity function for this man and his beleaguered moustache?

The time to act is now.
This postman cannot be denied his moustache.
So I will use this blog for good today, helping my fellow man, by making a list of the top 5 moustaches in history.
By seeing all the names of these great men, perhaps then the Japanese postal service will see the error of their ways:

1. Tom Selleck
2. Ron Jeremy
3. Doc Holliday
4. Burt Reynolds
5. John Waters

Did I miss any?
Please add to this list, thereby aiding this postman and his quest to maintain his flavor saver.

MY DRUGGY PAST

Just read an AP article today that completely destroys a huge part of my childhood:

NEW YORK - Drug company sales representatives will have to stop doling out coffee mugs and pens that push their products when they visit doctor's offices. But they can still sneak in the occasional free lunch.
Pharmaceutical Research and Manufacturers of America announced Thursday that it has revised its conduct code for interacting with health care professionals.
The updated guidelines ban the knicknacks bearing company and product logos.

This is tragic. Since my dad is a doctor, I cannot tell you how many of these drug company emblazoned items floated around our family homestead when I was growing up. Nearly every grocery list/diary entry/letter to granny was written with some herpes medication pen.
Aside from pens, we also received...

1. A Nerf football (Those of you who know just how amazingly athletic I am will appreciate just how much I used this.)

2. A wooden gavel (This was simply so the drug rep could deliver the line: "You be the judge.")

3. Countless mugs (Which I filled with colon blow-strength Starbucks, took to school and left in my locker until A) they became moldy and B) there were so many crammed in there that they came crashing out onto the floor.)

4. A penis statue from Viagra (Which my mother sent me in one of her infamous CARE PACKAGES and I left behind after vacating an apartment. See above photo.)

5. Tablets of paper in the shape of Anaprox pills

6. T-shirt showcasing a cheery, smiley-faced cartoon liver and the message "Be Kind To Your Liver" written on it. (The fact that my hard drinking father used to wear this item frequently was beyond ironic.)

7. Key chains

8. Several baseball caps (Who wouldn't want to advertise constipation remedies on their head?)

SMOKIN' PRESIDENTIAL POLLS

One of the hazards of the 24-hour news industry that so many of us work in is that there is a lot of time to fill, and only so much legitimate news to go around. This probably explains why I've been noticing some ridiculous presidential polls. I understand journalists are searching for a fresh take on the election, but it's getting to be preposterous:

"Pet Owners Prefer McCain Over Obama"
WASHINGTON (AP) — If the presidential election goes to the dogs, John McCain is looking like best in show.
From George Washington's foxhound "Drunkard" to George W. Bush's terriers "Barney" and "Miss Beazley," pets are a longtime presidential tradition for which the presumed Republican nominee seems well prepared, with more than a dozen.
The apparent Democratic nominee Barack Obama, on the other hand, doesn't have a pet at home.
The pet-owning public seems to have noticed the difference.
An AP-Yahoo! News poll found that pet owners favor McCain over Obama 42 percent to 37 percent, with dog owners particularly in McCain's corner.

If we're going to take it to this level of minutiae, what's stopping us from really bringing it on home? What about a poll that figures out the presidential preferences of:

1. People who have done the Electric Slide at a wedding...without irony.

2. People who clip their toenails on the subway.

3. People who click on NSFW links whilst at work. And then examine celebrity pubic hair on the company's dime.

4. People who sneak Jiffy Pop popcorn into the movie theatre to save a buck or two.

5. People who dress their pet ferrets up in Halloween costumes.

6. People who have taken an Olan Mills special family portrait at K-Mart.

7. People who know all the words to "We Want Some Pussy" by 2 Live Crew.

8. People who have tried to contort themselves into a position that allows them to suck their own cock.

9. People who go to a "cute little restaurant" for brunch and shriek and drink the one mimosa allotted with the prix fixe and wear idiotic capri pants with matching floral tops and tell lame stories they heard at the after church service coffee hour and HOW I HATE THOSE FUCKING BRUNCH MUNCHING HEN PACKS.

10. People who get worked up over nothing.

5 REJECTED HURRICANE NAMES

So-
Bertha has the distinction of being the first hurricane out of the gate this season.
I think Bertha is one of the better hurricane names I've heard. Bertha sounds big, blustery and rude. Bertha would slap your face with her fat ham hocks.
Then I started to think of names the Hurricane Center in Miami may have rejected:

1. Hurricane Liberace
2. Hurricane Mussolini
3. Hurricane Shaniqua
4. Hurricane Muffy
5. Hurricane Rae Dawn Chong

Any others?

CELEBRATE THE 4TH, PAUL LYNDE STYLE!

Seeing as how I'll be busy making burgers, marveling at fireworks and drinking assorted cocktails out on the terrace tomorrow, I'm wishing you all a festive holiday today.
Also, if any of you need an idea for delicious vintage side dish, I'm offering up this 1978 recipe from an American original, Paul Lynde.
I never got that Paul Lynde lunchbox I wanted, but at least I can make his "Millionaire's Salad".

Enjoy!
(Scroll down page for recipe)

MILLIONAIRE'S SALAD

GIRAFFE AS WORKPLACE LIBERATOR

This AP story is for anyone who feels imprisoned by their job:

AMSTERDAM, Netherlands - Amsterdam police say 15 camels, two zebras and an undetermined number of llamas and potbellied swine briefly escaped from a traveling Dutch circus after a giraffe kicked a hole in their cage.

Police spokesman Arnout Aben says the animals wandered in a group through a nearby neighborhood for several hours after their 5:30 a.m. breakout.

The animals were back at the circus later Monday after being rounded up by police and circus workers with the assistance of dogs. Aben says neighbors fed some of the animals — which he said was a bad idea — but they were tame and nobody was hurt.

Says Aben: "You have to imagine somebody rubbing his eyes first thing in the morning and saying, 'Am I seeing things or is that 15 camels walking past?'"

Kudos to that kick ass giraffe!
Because of his/her ingenuity, these hardworking circus performers were able to savor a few precious hours of freedom.

Now if only that giraffe would gallop over to my newsroom and knock over the computers, trample the TelePrompter, push the anchors off the sets and kick the pasty cube drones out the door. I'm picturing a bunch of Dockers clad producers and overly shellacked anchors wandering the streets of New York, bewildered, blinking at the sunlight, confused, foraging for food.

Unlike these circus performers, their freedom would not be appreciated.

They would be only too grateful to be herded back to the newsroom--back to the safety of readily available make up artists and a plentiful supply of Doritos in the vending machine.