Cute Nine Year Old Boy Child: “Piggie? What’s the difference between Pac-Man and Ms. Pac- Man?”
Cute Husband: “Ms. Pac-Man has tits.”
Cute Nine Year Old Boy Child: “Oh, okay. Thanks, Piggie.”
I adore my family.
I absolutely adore Tammy Faye.
Former Tammy Faye Bakker tells Larry King she has inoperable lung cancer
March 19, 2004
LOS ANGELES (AP) – Former televangelist Tammy Faye Messner announced Thursday on CNN’s Larry King Live she has inoperable lung cancer.
Messner, 62, told one caller she “believes in miracles” and told another she is considering holistic medicine in addition to chemotherapy to treat her cancer. The former Tammy Faye Bakker divorced televangelist Jim Bakker in 1992 while he was serving a sentence for financial fraud. Messner has a self-help book I Will Survive…And You Will, Too! that was released last year before she was diagnosed. She recently appeared on the WB reality show The Surreal Life, costarring with former rapper Vanilla Ice, ex-porn star Ron Jeremy and others.
J.J. Jackson says hello on MTV for the first time on August 1, 1981
J.J. Jackson, One Of MTV’s Original VJs, Dies At Age 62
March 18th, 2004
J.J. Jackson, remembered as one of the first faces of MTV, died Wednesday night in Los Angeles of an apparent heart attack, according to friends and former business associates. He was 62.
Jackson helped define the term “VJ” as one of the first on-air personalities on MTV when the channel launched in 1981. During his five-year tenure with the network, Jackson interviewed some of the top names of the day and was part of some key music milestones. Jackson covered the 1985 Live Aid benefit concert in London and helped to “unmask” Kiss during a 1982 interview. He also hosted the debut episode of MTV’s long-running “120 Minutes” in 1986, and brought music titans like Robert Plant and Pete Townshend to the then-fledgling channel.
MTV released a statement Thursday (March 18), mourning the loss of one of its beloved alumni and reflecting on his immense contribution to the station.
“J.J. Jackson’s deep passion for music, his ease and good humor on air, and his welcoming style really set the tone for the early days of MTV. He was a big part of the channel’s success and we are sure he is in the music section of heaven, with lots of his friends and heroes. We are fortunate to have had him as a part of the MTV family. He will be greatly missed.”
Mark Goodman, another of the original VJs who helped blaze trails with Jackson in the ’80s, said he was floored when he heard the news. “I was at home, I actually got a call from Martha Quinn,” Goodman said Thursday from his home in Los Angeles. “I almost couldn’t understand what she was saying, she was so upset.”
Goodman said that even though the on-air tenure of MTV’s original fab five ended almost two decades ago, they remained a tight-knit group.
“I think the kind of bond I had with J.J., the original five of us, it’s kind of like soldiers who share a foxhole,” Goodman said. “It’s a bond that has only gotten deeper through the years. It’s worse than a family member dying. It’s hard to comprehend. None of us would have expected it. It’s too soon. It wasn’t supposed to happen now. He’s too young. It’s kind of scary.
“I knew he a had a bad heart,” Goodman added. “He had heart surgery a couple of years ago, but he was in great shape, he’d lost weight. He was in a great state of mind, feeling really positive about what was going on. I just saw him last week.”
Goodman said the two were about to be co-workers again, at Sirius satellite radio. Goodman already has a position there and was looking forward to his friend J.J. starting soon. He said according to the information he received, Jackson was traveling home Wednesday night after having dinner with a friend when he suffered the heart attack.
“He was driving. Typical of J.J., he didn’t even hurt anybody,” Goodman said. “He was somehow able to ease his foot off the gas. He eased his car over to the side of the road. By the time the paramedics got there, they could not revive him there or the hospital either.”
Goodman still has great memories of the man he says used to be the butt of some practical jokes on air, but who always laughed and loved to have a good time.
“J.J. was really a gentle man,” he remembered. “He was smart. As I think of him, I think of him laughing. The guy had this huge laugh. He was a rabid music fan. Rod Stewart was a friend of his, guys in Led Zeppelin were friends of his. He championed these bands early on when they were kind of just getting going. He did Bruce Springsteen’s first television interview. J.J. was a great guy. For the five of us, he was the wise DJ. He was the guy who had been through it all and was able to always put a mature perspective to things. He wound up handling the spotlight that was thrust on us better than any of us.”
Besides his endeavors in television, Jackson also logged a thick résumé in radio. Prior to his MTV days, Jackson was a rock-radio staple, first at WBCN-FM in Boston, and later at a few stations in Los Angeles. His voice even made it to the big screen, as a DJ in the 1976 movie “Car Wash.” After his VJ days, Jackson returned to radio in the Los Angeles area.
On Thursday (March 18), Paul Goldstein, program director of L.A.’s KTWV-FM, said “J.J.’s tenure with the station ended just six months ago. He was a wonderful man and will be very missed.”
“I felt that if I accepted the reward, I would lose the beauty inside of me…”
— Mexico City taxi driver, Manuel Lubian, father-of-two, who spent two days hunting down a passenger who had left $53,000 in his cab…then returned the money and refused a reward.
“If you Call Me” Meme
If you call me…
Nay Nay…you are probably one of my vast legions of nieces and nephews. To them, I am Auntie Nay Nay – and they know to give up the kisses to Auntie Nay Nay, goddamnit.
Pussy…you are my darling mother. I also call her Pussy. Do not ask.
Butch or Butchina…you are my best friend, Billy — whom I also call Butch.
Lucy or Stinkaletta…you are my other best friend, Tania – whom I call either Satania or Ethel.
Jackaline…you are one of The Jackals – my decadent, brilliant posse of artists, shitkickers, nihilists, carnies, and thieves. Well, not really thieves – but we do still rob houses.
Sallie…you are my most precious sister, Jennifer – whom I call Rita Shuklian, The Queen of the Armenian Princesses.
Rat…you are my most child-like sister, Jill – whom I call Hee-Yay (the phonetic and fucking UGLY Spanish pronunciation of Jill.)
Ho…you are my most normal sister, Cindy — whom I call Mo. No reason; just Mo.
Polly…then you are either a producer or director or a member of a Romanian film crew. In that case, I probably smile sweetly and call you some vile, vulgar, godless word in Romanian whose closest English translation would probably be “cocksucker.” Thanks for teaching this little American girl all the most “important” words to use on set, boys.
Bitch-hawg…then you are my old friend, Kirby – whom I call Birk.
Mommy, Mama, Mother, Mima…you are one of my three babies – whom I call Beastie, Goatlips, and Ottie.
Miff…then you are, specifically, my 9 year old son – whom I also call The Little Dude Who Carries the Light.
Mouse, Mousekers, Moushkers, Mousie Lou, Lousie Moo, Spouse Mouse, Miffy Mouse, Baby Mouse, Sweet Baby Mouse, Muffles, Snuffles, Snuffly, Bipples, Bipply, Bip, Flopsy, Bunny, Bunnio, Bunny Rabbit, Bunny Buttio, Kitty Cat, Scooter, Scooby, Scoobetha, Scoobiter of Justice, Petunia, Sweet Potato, Pretty Girl, Baby, Honey, Sweetie…then you are my most choice husband – whom I affectionately and simply call “My Cute Pig”.
“Christ died for our sins. Dare we make his martyrdom meaningless by not
committing them?”
–Jules Feiffer
(For . With love…from me)
“The Christian view that all intercourse outside marriage is immoral was, as we see in the passages of St. Paul, based upon the view that all sexual intercourse, even within marriage, is regrettable. A view of this sort, which goes against biological facts, can only be regarded by sane people as a morbid aberration. The fact that it is embedded in Christian ethics has made Christianity throughout its whole history a force tending towards mental disorders and unwholesome views of life.”
— Bertrand Russell
When annoying bastards insist on pronouncing their name completely different from how it’s spelled. For example:
The name Naomi…is spelled N-A-O-M-I, not Noemi…N-O-E-M-I. That’d be pronounced “No-way-mee” or “No-wee-mee.” C’mon people, let’s get it right. It’s not that fucking difficult.
When I was in college (for all 17 days I was in college), I worked at Bob’s Big Boy in Fresno (best, most funnest, most decadent job I ever had — but that’s an entirely different story for an entirely different time. This post is intended to be hateful, not wistful.)
One Friday evening we were busier than usual, so the waitresses, of whom I was one, had to do double-duty seating people, because Jana, our regular, worthless, no-talent meathook of a hostess had called in sick so she could trigger-fuck her Fresno State linebacker boyfriend, Deion, in the back of a pick-up truck out in Clovis.
Well, sir, there were people packed 10-deep in the waiting area — eagerly anticipating being seated so they could gobble down their delicious Bob’s Big Boy combo plates — and I called out the next name on the hostess list.
“Ruiz, party of 4!” (using, of course, the correct Spanish pronunciation of Roo-eez)
A harsh, haughty, raven-haired woman of about 50 approached me and contemptuously sneered, “Yes, we’re ready to be seated. And it’s pronounced, Reece.
Not wanting to be insulting, I glanced back down at my sheet — on which ol’ bitch-hawg had herself handwritten her name — and double-checked that I had the correct one.
“Oh, no, I’m so sorry. There must be some mix-up. It says Ruiz here, not Reece. Ruiz, party of 4!”, I called out again.
She glared at me, and hissed, “No, Miss. That’s the correct name — but it’s pronounced Reece.”
Well, that was it. My 1/8th Hispanic ass had fucking had it. I was extraordinarily busy, and ol’ Carmen Miranda here — in bad shoes, bleeding lipstick, and, most revealing of all, foundation that was about three shades too light for her natural skin tone — was busting my fucking balls…all in the name of her hopeless, pathetic desire to be Dina Fucking Merrill.
So, I smirked right back at her and said, “Fine. If you want that desperately to distance yourself from your Central California Latino roots, far be it from me to stop you, Hermana…oh, excuse me…Sister. Reece, party of 4.”
I won’t tell you what me and the girls did to her Pappy Parker’s Fried Chicken Dinner before we served it up, but I will offer this one small bit of advice: Never, ever, ever fuck with the people who handle your food.
Ever.
“Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty, pristine, and well-preserved body…but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming, ‘Christ…what a fucking ride!'”
“Everybody’s born to do a certain thing and if you’re dead jammy you find it. And if you’re good at it just keep doing it until you’re fed up, then do something else. You’re here to make babies and look after the place. You know?”
— Dead Jammy Scotsman Billy Connolly
muffy bolding 