Cosmic Consciousness No. 11 - You Say "Oooh, Yes!"

I paid a visit to the chemist today in search of a Ronco back-waxing kit (the Bax Wax, as seen on TV). The music being piped from the ceiling was nothing less than absolute aural perfection, even taking into account that it was half of the stereo mix from a single tiny speaker, which really doesn't matter a whit when one is greeted with the song unexpectedly. It was The Beatles' Hello Goodbye, which just may be the perfect pop song. It never fails to send a chill down my baby-smooth spine, even after almost forty years.

Cosmic Consciousness No. 10 - Mrs Biggletee

Mrs Biggletee, our dear neighbour, passed away last night. Mister Biggletee was planted long before we moved to this region, and they had no children to speak of. She was nearly ninety and a bit twee, but behind her back the moppets always called her "Mrs Big Ol' Teats," and nothing could be further from the truth. My wife would drive her into town once a week to have her hair whipped into a frenzy and to procure foodstuffs & nylons. She often baked spinach biscuits for Sunday tea, but she pronounced it spanich, as if the biscuits had come from Spain rather than her oven.

Herewith are a few of the odd phrases we would hear mumbled repeatedly from Mrs Biggletee's thin, wrinkled lips:

"Enjoy your day."
"Oh, my sweet sleepy Jesus."
"Give me a middle C, Sonny!"
"Oh my lands! That one sneaked out!"
"We might get some rain if the Lord is in town."
"I hated Daddy."

She will be missed.

Pet Peeve No. 07 - The Literature of Babbling Bears, Chattering Chimps and Loquacious Lemurs

If I'm reading a book and a talking animal is suddenly introduced into the cast of characters, the book will be snapped shut, set ablaze and promptly thrown from the car. Life is short, and I no longer have time to waste on the Berenstain Bears.

However, I will continue to teach my cat to recite the works of Edward Lear.

Pet Peeve No. 04D - The Rude Mutant Collective / Follow-up

Yesterday afternoon, just after high tea, I chanced to pass one of Los Mutantos in a local vestibule. His implanted left-ear cell phone was firmly affixed, and as he turned, the gods smiled and removed all obstructions just long enough to show me the hand-held "regulation" cell phone that the mutant was holding to his right ear.

I can only surmise that he was having a very important, ultra-secret conversation with himself!

On a lighter note, his brain must have been bombarded by microwaves from every direction!

These people have to go... but where?

Cosmic Consciousness No. 09 - Tactile Members

What are the names of the two fingers between the forefinger and pinky?

Just curious. No prizes today.

Pet Peeve No. 06 - Is It Really Finger Lickin' Good?

I cannot abide seeing a woman lick her thumb and/or forefinger before turning a page. (Yes, sorry, but most of the culprits are older women. Why is that?)

If the book you're reading came from my shelf, just kiss those frickin' chickin' lickin' fingers goodbye while they're in your filthy piehole!

And I despise watching a cashier performing the digit-moistening ritual before pulling open a plastic grocery bag. Keep your oral lubrication away from my food, please, you tramp, you harlot! I don't know where your mouth has been... do you?!? (One has to wonder if these vulgar people bother to wash up after after dropping the kids at the pool... Crikey! That's why they lick their fingers!)

Rowanism No. 03 - Sea Chantey

As we were driving back from a midday sandwich, Rowan began to sing in her best pirate voice:

I melted on a kippity flip,
I melted on a drippity droop,
I melted on a yellow car,
I melted on a bloody puddle.

Where does a four-year-old get this stuff? From Barney? The Wiggles? Her mum?

Name Tags of the Damned No. 04

Spotted in Quik-Lo: ALVESTER (male)

There is a quaint custom among some Americans (usually those found in the Deep South), of combining the parents' names into some awe-inspiring juxtaposition when designing an original appellation for their offspring. One could then presume that Alvester had two fathers, Alvin and Sylvester... one a singing chipmunk, and the other a black & white cat with a big red nose and a lisp. Or not.

Cosmic Consciousness No. 08 - The Hound Tor Highland Games

Last weekend I attended the 623rd Annual Hound Tor Highland Games of Upper Tindalos. Plenty of ale, headcheese sandwiches and haggis for all. The highlight was a rare performance by "Barney" Scotland's own Barney Fife & Drum Corps, featuring the Wolverhampton Twins, Jimmy and Timmy. Jimmy (left) wants to play jazz, and Timmy has an inner ear infection. Blimey, what an odd lot!

Fantasy DVD Box Set - Elam & Feldman / Follow-Up

Regarding the prospect of a Jack Elam & Marty Feldman DVD Box Set, this is the big one that nobody (well, nobody but pig bodine) has mentioned. It's very obvious that few people are aware of this Urtha Major Studios film, the only movie (to pig's knowledge, at least) that Elam & Feldman made together: The Road to Ruin (aka The Road to Hell in Singaporn) with the exotic Dorothy Lamour. Was it a shameless attempt to cash in on the popularity of the those other "Road" pictures?

I don't know.

But I do know this: the banana slug cannot live long inside the human stomach. That's why it will try to eat its way to the lungs. Crosby my heart and Hope to fly!

Cosmic Consciousness No. 07 - An Alternate History of Film from a Parallel Universe: Rondo & Rocho

My good friend pig bodine lives on an alternate Urtha Major in a parallel universe. He insists this is the best film he's never seen.

In case you missed this one -- which I'm sure you did because all Urthian prints are now "lost" -- here is the unobtainable one-sheet from a rare 1946 screening in New Tokyo, California: the original Rain Man starring Rondo Hatton and Rochester! Reviews were unkind.

Note that even outdoors, Rondo always had that freaky "underglow" on his face. What a Creepy Creeper!

Fantasy DVD Box Set - Elam & Feldman

The comedic stylings of Jack Elam and Marty Feldman would make a wonderful DVD collection! What's the common denominator? If you have to ask, you should probably be watching old Imogene Coca photoplays instead. This is an easy set; we only need two films from each thespian. Oy, don't give up... go for it! What quartet of films would you designate for this blockbuster pairing? (Answers in next Sunday's Times.)

Rowanism No. 02 - On Flying

"Daddy, I didn't know flying saucers could fly!"

Pet Peeve No. 05 - Grammar - "found missing"

From various internet sources:

"J_____ G_____, 15, was found missing..."
"In August another man was found missing..."
"Found missing was a DVD player..."
"...foodgrains were found missing..."
"...toilets were found missing from a vacant house..."

How the hell can anything be found missing?!?
Found to be missing, perhaps...
Realized to be missing, better...

Fantasy DVD Box Set - Rondo Hatton

The burden is on your acromegalic shoulders (and especially on Rondo's): what four films would you choose to include in this handsome actor's collection, and why? (Hint: you really should include House of Horrors from 1946.) The Creeper was a giant among faces! And I swear the bloke looks like he's related to Alec Baldwin...

As always, suggestions are welcome in the clapotis.

Pet Peeve No. 04C - The Rude Mutant Collective / Follow-up

I was browsing in a video rental establishment last night when I spotted one of the cell-phone mutants of the male persuasion flipping through the previously-viewed-for-sale bin. I caught the words: This is not the movie I thought it was, and I thought: Damn. It's bad enough that he has to report his findings to someone, but there is another person on the other end with nothing better to do than listen to his report.

Halfway across the store, a female offered: What did you think it was?

Oh. My. God.
People are using their implants to converse within thirty feet of each other.

I think it was Wavy Gravy who said, "It's a new dawn, people!"

Please Lord, let me wake up.

Fantasy DVD Box Set - Jan Murray

If it were up to you, what four films would you choose to include in this top banana's collection? You have to include Who Killed Teddy Bear?, right? After that, I'm stumped; it's so hard to narrow the list down to only four. My god, the man was prolific!

Suggestions welcome.

Name Your Band for a Quid

Urine Trouble
Dustbin Darins
Anaconda d'Amour
The Throbbing Vicars
The Tori Spelling Bee
Earl Grey and the Tease
Pirates of the Cerebellum
The Peter Torque Experience
William Shatner Lunchbox (Think about it.)

Name Tags of the Damned No. 03

Spotted at McDonald's: JAMETTA (female)
It's like Etta James spelled sideways. Sort of.

The Cosmic Consciousness No. 06 - A Reptile Dysfunction

I heard an advert on the radio today for a reptile dysfunction...

What is it?
What do you do with it?
Where can I get one?

The Cosmic Consciousness No. 05 - Paint It Black, You Devils

Dear Fiends, 06-06-06 came and went with nary a hitch (except for the loss of Billy Preston, RIP). For me -- as many of you know -- Hallowe'en is the new Christmas, yet somehow I was not in a Dark enough mood to celebrate The Day of the Beastie.

I did not go to the big opening day of The Omen remake.
I did not get gothed-up (unless black socks qualify).
I did not listen to any Black Sabbath or Olivia Newton-John.
I did not put up any holiday desecrations.
I did not sacrifice anything.

Oh well, there will be another Event one hundred years from now. That gives me some time to plan. Maybe I'll be in a gloomier mood. See you then. Cheerio.

The Cosmic Consciousness No. 04 - A Stranger Takes Aim at Me, or The Effluvium Man

I was minding my own business, really. In the local music mart, I strode down the aisle to see if the Porcupine Tree section had been restocked to include, perhaps, The Sky Moves Sideways (which I've never heard but desperately need). As I neared the greying man wearing headphones at the listening station, I was as oblivious to his intentions as I assumed he was to my advance.

And then, as I stepped directly behind him, the attack was launched: Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow!

Four loud, abrupt, rapid reports were issued from his posterior! I paused and looked at his back in amazement. You damn bloody bastard! Couldn't draw up the stuff to vomit on me, eh? I realized I should probably keep moving to avoid inhaling his inner essence.

Upon reaching the end of the aisle and putting a safe distance between us, I turned to give Mr. Tooty Bum a look of reproach. He had quickly turned cheek and scampered off. Stinking coward. Hope he shat himself.

Pity, I never saw his face. I just don't know what possesses some people. Ffft.

Pet Peeve No. 04B - The Rude Mutant Collective / Follow-Up

Mutants are on the move.

I was in the local craft shoppe this afternoon (no, don't ask why), when I spotted the rare thirty-something female with a cell-phone implant chatting away in the scrapbook aisle. Public conversation, right? So I moved within twelve feet of her and listened. She paid no attention to me as she perused the bindings, all the while talking, talking, talking. I was unable to understand the creature's language. I stepped a little closer, now ten feet away, and lingered. She began to speak more softly. I inched closer still, pretending to look at the butterfly rubber-stamps. Without dropping a stitch, she left and relocated to the next aisle (the nerve of some people!). Clearly she did not wish to be overheard. What was she hiding? Hmmm...

I left the rubber-stamp aisle and circled around in the opposite direction. As soon as I was out of sight, the female moved back to the scrapbook aisle and resumed the conversation from the same spot. Curiouser and curiouser.

You see the creepiest people in craft shoppes.

Pet Peeve No. 04 - The Rude Mutant Collective

Have you noticed that chap who walks around talking very loudly to himself? If he turns his head just the right way, you'll see the Borg implant next to his ear.

Yes, he has been assimilated into the Hive of the Rude Mutant collective. (Ninety-five percent of the hive is male. Go figure.)

This "implant" is actually a hands-free cell phone. The MORON wearing it has been foisted (by whom?, I wonder) on an unsuspecting public, usually in restaurants and book shoppes and lavatories, of all places. (Incidentally, have you ever been on the phone with someone and wondered what all the grunting and groaning was about on the other end? Now you know.)

What is the mutant's mission? He infiltrates our "quiet zones" and lurches around having gesture-filled one-sided conversations, perhaps with his alter ego or his inner child. Or perhaps he is getting instructions from the Borg Queen. Or the men in tin foil hats. Or his neighbour's dog. I don't know.

But I do know this: eating raw pork can give you trichinosis.

I set forth a challenge to you all: follow the creature and listen to his conversation; it's a public conversation anyway, so just walk right up and listen. He is blind to the other people around him. Report back with all haste!