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Bad Ass or Just Crazy?

The Moon Landings Were Faked!

Confirming what for years had been only a persistent rumor, undercover VGG.com 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!

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).

Also,

April Fool.

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?

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)

 

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!

 (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!!!

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

(AT THE BANQUET, IN CHICAGO, GIVEN BY THE ARMY OF THE TENNESSEE TO THEIR FIRST COMMANDER, GENERAL U. S. GRANT, NOVEMBER, 1879)

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.

[I received this email yesterday. — Rob]

June 6, 2008
Re: sexbots going off to war dream

Dear : Robert Terrell and Jason Torchinsky,

It has come to my attention that you have made an unauthorized use of my copyrighted short film entitled “Danny Bot” (the “Work”). I have reserved all rights in the Work, which was first published in teh Internet on 2004, and I have registered the copyright.

Your dream entitled “Bring Our Sexbots Home” is essentially identical to the Work and clearly used the Work as its basis: http://www.dannybot.com/
As you neither asked for nor received permission to use the Work as the basis for your dream, nor to make or distribute copies, including electronic copies, of same, or to talk about, discuss, or convey through email, instant message, billboards, sign language, ham radio, semaphore, pig latin, or ubbi-dubbi; I believe you have willfully infringed my rights under 17 U.S.C. Section 101 et seq. and could be liable for statutory damages as high as $150,000 as set forth in Section 504(c)(2) therein.

I demand that you immediately cease any and all infringing dreams derived from the Work, and all copies of said dream, including electronic copies, memories, recollections, reminiscences, impressions, memes, or engrams of same, and that you deliver to me, if applicable, all unused, undistributed copies, memories, recollections, reminiscences, impressions, memes, or engrams of same, or destroy such copies memories, recollections, reminiscences, impressions, memes, or engrams immediately and that you desist from this or any other infringement, conscious, unconscious, or subconscious of my rights in the future. If I have not received an affirmative response from you by Thermidor 19, 2100, indicating that you have fully complied with these requirements, I shall bring further action against you.

Very truly yours,

Daniel J. Bot
http://www.dannybot.com/

So yeah, we blew up the old blog. It was a group effort. T. Mike helped by not backing up the database, I did my share by upgrading the blog software. Alan and Galen were nearby when it happened, and they made no heroic lunges at the keyboard to prevent us. Only Charles gets a pass, because a tree fell on his house and he left early. 

Now we’ve got this WordPress blog. Hopefully it’ll be simpler to use. I’ll import the database files we do have later on.