Archive for the ‘Update’ Category

Name that Unicorn! (or Native American)

Wednesday, April 6th, 2011

Unicorn or Native American?

Say friends, do you have an unnamed unicorn or Native American just sitting around the place? Are tired of shouting “Hey! You there!” and not knowing which unicorn or Native American might respond to your call?

Well fret no more! The Van Gogh-Goghs are here to do away with the endless, workaday drudgery of coming up with appropriate names for your unicorn or Native American! Thanks to the miracle of “science” combined with the Internet, you can name your mystical, special friend or unicorn easily and quickly! To use, merely click the “Create Name!” button:

Get Lied to on Twitter!

Wednesday, June 9th, 2010

Twitter logo


We got a Twitter account! Follow us, won’t you?!

It’s not just any ole bullcrap like your aunt twittering what they ate, read, saw, breathed. It’s full on lies, my good, good friend. May I call you friend? Great! Also, can I borrow $50 bucks? I can pay you back Tuesday. Awesome.

Look, we know what you like. Fooling your friends. With lies. No problem. We have got tons of believable lies. Try ’em out, see if you can get your friends to believe ’em. Or just be amused up to and including once a day! Fresh lies daily! DAILY, my friend. DAILY. No lie!

Bollixing up Boxing Day

Saturday, December 26th, 2009

What the Hell is Boxing Day?
Several Theories as to its Origin

by an American Citizen

As a member of the great American calendar-owning public, there are some things I don’t appreciate. Like Easter getting moved around every year. Can’t the pope make up his damn mind?! I also don’t appreciate it when the calendar manufacturers try put two days on the same square with a diagonal slash through it. Cheap bastards. And lastly, I really, really hate it when they put lousy stinking foreign commie, non-U.S. holidays on MY calendar, like Cinco de Mayo, Kwaanza, and Boxing Day.

Hey, the last time I checked I was still living in AMERICA and not North Korea! Let those filthy reds celebrate all the heathen Kwaanza they want, but keep it out of OUR calendars! Children read those things for God’s sake!

Which brings us to Boxing Day. There it is, every damn December 26th. What the hell is it?! I mean, all those other weirdo holidays are in the crazy moon-man language non-American countries tend to use, so you can write them off as crazy foreign pinkoness. But I used to think we could trust our fellow English-speaking countries, like Britain and Canada (excluding the People’s Republic of Quebec). But then they had to go behind our backs and invent “Boxing Day” on us, just to try and steal some of our thunder for having invented Christmas. Why else would they have stuck it on December 26th? Sneaky bastards.

Since whatever they claim to be the “official” reason for Boxing Day will obviously be state-disseminated lies and propaganda, I have decided to investigate the truth. Since I recently spent an entire afternoon in Canada, I think I am pretty well qualified to speak authoritatively on the origins of Boxing Day. After considering the matter thoroughly for several minutes, then cracking open a cold beer and thinking some more during the commercial breaks of a Home Improvement rerun, I have come up with the following theories:

* Boxing Day is a Canadian plot to try and steal credit for inventing corrugated cardboard by making a national holiday out of the day it was patented- which is patently absurd! Everybody knows that corrugated cardboard was invented at Bell Labs in Menlo Park, New Jersey by Nazi scientists we snagged from Germany after WWII, working under the direction of Steve Wozniak. Granted, the Canadians did invent REGULAR cardboard, if you call that inventing. Hell, I could have invented that.

* Boxing Day is how the former English colonies commemorate getting their ASSES WHUPPED by Johnny Chinaman during the Boxer Rebellion in China at the last turn of the century. Sure, they try to play it off like Memorial Day, honoring their war dead and crap, but if it hadn’t been for us Americans bailing their butts out then, they’d be speaking Mandarin all the way from London to Vancouver right now. And do you think they ever thanked us? Pfft! No! Ungrateful bastards.

* Boxing Day has something to do with the game of Cricket. There’s some kind of box involved in there somewhere. Probably. I’m pretty sure.

* Boxing Day is an invention of the Canadian kite industry to try to popularize the more expensive “box” kite, as opposed to the cheap regular kind. It further shows how the Canadians are trying to undermine the youth of America by encouraging kids to go outside and play with sissy kites instead of watching manly sports on TV, like boxing and anything with the word “extreme” in it.

* Boxing Day is just some crap Canadians made up so they could get the day after Christmas off. And what do we get? Martin Luther King Jr. Day, way the hell out in the middle of January where it doesn’t do anybody any good! Why the hell couldn’t he have been born on December 26th?! I say the next national martyr we assassinate better damn well be born on (or, possibly, get killed on) December 26th. Hell, if we can find martyrs from Christmas through New Year’s, so much the better! Whose bright idea was it to put those two holidays just far enough apart that you still have to work half the week, anyway?! Probably the pope. Papist bastard.

That’s how I figure it, anyway.

What’s Wrong with this Picture?!

Thursday, October 8th, 2009

Use comments to submit your… uh …comments. *cough*

Bad Ass or Just Crazy?

Bad Ass or Just Crazy?

Apollo, Schmapollo.

Thursday, July 23rd, 2009

The Moon Landings Were Faked!

Confirming what for years had been only a persistent rumor, undercover reporters have determined that the July 1969 Apollo-program moon landings were indeed an elaborate government deception. Forty years of lies ends today!

We have the EVIDENCE!

It’s F*ckin’ Over…

Wednesday, April 1st, 2009

broke logo

This has been a long time coming, folks. I’m sorry  to say, but as of April first, 2009, the Van Gogh-Goghs  are no more. We’re calling it quits and breaking up. We’ve milked this cow for all she’s worth, and all our yanking won’t squeeze another drop out. We don’t perform, we don’t write, and we don’t update our site (as you may have noticed). We’ve drifted apart as colleagues, collaborators, and even friends. We have newer, bigger, more important things on our plates these days. Adult things: raising our new babies, attending graduate school, running businesses- where are we supposed to find the time for this nonsense anymore? It used to be fun, and now it’s a chore: and that is a sign to stop we can no longer ignore. All good things come to an end, that’s just how  it goes. It was fun, we loved ya, now beat it, amscray.

Don’t weep, my friends, we’ll always have Paris. Also, it makes you look like a total wuss.

Jason is joining another sketch comedy group, Actual Size, under the excellent direction of Corey, a former star on the Buffy spinoff Angel. He’s hoping to introduce them to the joys of the Second-City/Del Close brand of Improv comedy. He will also be playing trombone with Ronnie James Dio on his comeback album and forthcoming tour.  Charles is going on a long overdue speaking tour for Toastmasters International and will release his long awaited nonfiction books: Double Down: Power Poker for Profit, Double Down II: Perfect Pai-Gow for Playaz, Building the Perfect Resume, and E-xtra E-ffective E-mails.

Deeply concerned about the dangers of cyberspace and the corrosive effect of modern technology on family life, Rob and his family will be moving to Intercourse, Pennsylvania to join the Amish community where Rob will make wooden cabinets for kerosene space heaters. Alan is opening a drug counseling clinic whose profits will go to the Homes for Feral, Ugly Kittens foundation (HFUK).  T. Mike is running for state senate under the new Conservative Christian Coalition Party (CCCP) on a platform of eliminating burdensome child safety regulations. Galen is splitting his time between Kill Your Television and the Euthanize Feral, Ugly Kittens foundation (EFUK).


April Fool.

Presidential Inauguration Nostalgia

Tuesday, January 20th, 2009

As our new president, Tiger Woods, takes the oath of office, ends racism, and catches bullets with his teeth, we find our minds wandering to the past, about twelve minutes ago, and whether we just finished off the Zantac or the Zanax, and as we stagger to the trash can to fish out the bottle to check, we slip, whang our heads on the countertop, and slip back in time to George W. Bush’s first inauguration in 2001, a famous film director’s boast, and a little essay we call:

Why Did I Agree To Help Robert Altman Move?

Double Ho Seven: On Her Majesty’s Secret Santa

Wednesday, December 24th, 2008

Testing, one two… okay it’s working. Standby everyone! Sound department- check. Wardrobe – get ready! Someone get the HTML coder a fresh inkwell! Places everyone, places! Bring the electrons to full power… now! We’re on!

Ladies and Gentlemen, the Van Gogh-Gogh Radio Company of the Web is now… on the Web! Here, in the holiday spirit, our modest group is proud to present a charming little spy-oriented playlet

So click here to download the MP3 file and start the fun! (2.3 Mb)

Keep the Yule Cats Burning…

Wednesday, December 17th, 2008


Oh look honey, it’s another Christmas card in the mail, I’ll just open it, aw, it has kittens on … OH GOD NO THE KITTENS ARE ON FIRE! AAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! AAAAAHHH!!! AHH! AH!

Yule cats, fire cats!

 (click to enlarge)


Wait a minute- the kittens aren’t on fire- look how peacefully they stare at my skull as they emanate from the flames– Oh Sweet Santa- they aren’t on fire, they ARE fire!!! ARGH! DEVIL MUTANT FIRE CATS!!! KILL IT! KILL IT WITH FIRE… oh wait, that won’t work. KILL IT WITH…, what, water? Sure, water… I guess. Hmmm. What else can you kill things with that sounds cool when you yell it out?   A stick? Maybe. A gun? No. Knife? No. Aha! SCIENCE! KILL IT WITH SCIENCE! KILL IT WITH SCIENCE!!!

On the babies…

Monday, October 27th, 2008

Since two Van Gogh-Goghs have new babies, and since babies suck up free time like black holes, AND since Van Gogh-Goghs are spectacularly lazy to start with, here’s some public domain comedy! (At least, it’s still public domain as of this writing, nobody tell Disney that Twain is the public domain, ok?)

Speech On The Babies
by Mark Twain


The fifteenth regular toast was “The Babies–as they comfort us in our sorrows, let us not forget them in our festivities.”

I like that. We have not all had the good fortune to be Ladies. We have not all been generals, or poets, or statesmen; but when the toast works down to the babies, we stand on common ground. It is a shame that for a thousand years the world’s banquets have utterly ignored the baby, as if he didn’t amount to anything. If you will stop and think a minute –if you will go back fifty or one hundred years to your early married life and recontemplate your first baby–you will remember that he amounted to a great deal, and even something over. You soldiers all know that when the little fellow arrived at family headquarters you had to hand in your resignation. He took entire command. You became his lackey, his mere body servant, and you had to stand around, too. He was not a commander who made allowances for time, distance, weather, or anything else. You had to execute his order whether it was possible or not. And there was only one form of marching in his manual of tactics, and that was the double-quick. He treated you with every sort of insolence and disrespect, and the bravest of you didn’t dare to say a word. You could face the death-storm at Donelson and Vicksburg, and give back blow for blow; but when he clawed your whiskers, and pulled your hair, and twisted your nose, you had to take it. When the thunders of war were sounding in your ears you set your faces toward the batteries, and advanced with steady tread; but when he turned on the terrors of his war-whoop you advanced in the other direction, and mighty glad of the chance, too. When he called for soothing-syrup, did you venture to throw out any side remarks about certain services being unbecoming an officer and a gentleman? No. You got up and got it. When he ordered his pap-bottle and it was not warm, did you talk back? Not you. You went to work and warmed it. You even descended so far in your menial office as to take a suck at that warm, insipid stuff yourself, to see if it was right–three parts water to one of milk, a touch of sugar to modify the colic, and a drop of peppermint to kill those hiccoughs. I can taste that stuff yet. And how many things you learned as you went along! Sentimental young folks still take stock in that beautiful old saying that when the baby smiles in his sleep, it is because the angels are whispering to him. Very pretty, but too thin–simply wind on the stomach, my friends. If the baby proposed to take a walk at his usual hour, two o’clock in the morning, didn’t you rise up promptly and remark, with a mental addition which would not improve a Sunday-school book much, that that was the very thing you were about to propose yourself? Oh! you were under good discipline, and as you went fluttering up and down the room in your undress uniform, you not only prattled undignified baby-talk, but even tuned up your martial voices and tried to sing!–“Rock-a-by baby in the treetop,” for instance. What a spectacle for an Army of the Tennessee! And what an affliction for the neighbors, too; for it is not everybody within a mile around that likes military music at three in the morning. And when you had been keeping this sort of thing up two or three hours, and your little velvet-head intimated that nothing suited him like exercise and noise, what did you do? [“Go on!”] You simply went on until you dropped in the last ditch. The idea that a baby doesn’t amount to anything! Why, one baby is just a house and a front yard full by itself. One baby can furnish more business than you and your whole Interior Department can attend to. He is enterprising, irrepressible, brimful of lawless activities. Do what you please, you can’t make him stay on the reservation. Sufficient unto the day is one baby. As long as you are in your right mind don’t you ever pray for twins. Twins amount to a permanent riot. And there ain’t any real difference between triplets and an insurrection.

Yes, it was high time for a toast-master to recognize the importance of the babies.

Speech on the Babies by Mark Twain

Speech on the Babies by Mark Twain