Double Ho Seven: On Her Majesty’s Secret Santa

December 24th, 2008 by theo

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…

December 17th, 2008 by theo


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!!!

Escobar’s Pride

November 9th, 2008 by theo

If you enjoy crack you might want to try America’s best crack: Escobar’s Pride.

Taped live near the Wiltern Theater in Los Angeles, California.

On the babies…

October 27th, 2008 by theo

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

Van Gogh-Gogh Baby II!

October 12th, 2008 by theo

T. Mike\'s a Daddy!

We Van Gogh-Goghs would like to take a moment to congratulate ANOTHER one of our own on the birth of his brand new baby daughter! Born September 12th, 2008 at 8:16 AM, weighing in at a nicely healthy 7 pounds, 1 ounce.

Congratulations, you are now officially old.

Your DNA in Space!

September 23rd, 2008 by rob
Is that [spacex] launch today?

think its postponed

good, maybe there’s still time to get my payload on there

if you want your dna to go into space, just sneak through the fence and jack off onto the rocket.

it’s what I did.

that’s good thinking

they should have a glory hole in the thing. anyone who wants their dna in space can just walk up and fuck the rocket

they could charge a little

I sense a business opportunity here

say, $10

that’s a really good idea

we should make this! buy the biggest hobby rocket you can get, stick a glory hole in it, put a copy of hustler on a string tied to the top for anyone who needs inspiration, and sell tickets


also, another marketing angle:


Either of these would get a good amount of response

you go drag an old silo back from outside of town

I’ll get a craigslist ad up

wait — webcam. sell access to the live video of the guys jacking off into the rocket.

we are going to be so rich.


all we need is a rocket, a fleshlight, some bottles of lube and a hot-glue gun

I can get a rocket at Apex surplus

I’ve already got a hot glue gun!!!!

and lube!

do they have surplus fleshlights?

we don’t need a good one.

sort of: they have pig vaginas in cans


I challenge any of our customers to notice the difference.

it’s actually a bit of an upgrade.

this is gonna be BIG

Dinner and a Movie?

August 24th, 2008 by galen

Hey, would you like to come over tonight and watch an UNrated movie with me? Maybe have some dinner? How’s roasted chicken sound to you? What if I told you I’ll have a liter of water to go with that chicken?

This ad is from a Kroger circular. Is the ad aimed at prison wardens? I guess I should applaud Kroger for promoting drinking water instead of sugar, but throw in a pound cake or a can of peas or something. Spice it up!

But maybe Kroger is working on a different level here. Water to represent the underwater theme and roasted chicken to represent that crazy seagull. If that’s the case kudos indeed. Very funny!

Van Gogh-Gogh Baby!

July 8th, 2008 by theo

Galen\'s a daddy!

We Van Gogh-Goghs would like to take a moment to congratulate one of our own on the birth of his brand new baby daughter! Born July 3rd, 2008 at 4:08am, weighing in at a nicely healthy 8 pounds, 3 ounces.

Congratulations, you are now officially old.

Happy Fourth of July! Now, sing along with me…

July 2nd, 2008 by theo

Druncle Sam!

Aw man, don’t you hate it when you have a back yard Fourth of July cookout, and you have that one uncle who you didn’t want to invite, but had to, and you didn’t think he’d come anyway, but he did, and then you thought “well, as long as he doesn’t get drunk,” but then he does, and then you think, “please don’t sing, please don’t sing, please don’t sing,” and sure enough he starts singing, and then, AND THEN he then tries to drunkenly cajole everyone ELSE into singing with him, and you think things can’t possibly get any worse BUT THEN YOUR DRUNKEN UNCLE PULLS OUT SONGBOOKS, and starts handing them out, you know, so EVERYONE can SING ALONG.

Well that’s what’s obviously happened on the cover of this beer company promotional songbook, only the uncle is… UNCLE SAM. And your back yard? It’s AMERICA. (Did we blow your mind yet?)

Man, Druncle Sam is sure feeling it up there, isn’t he? He is right at the supreme moment of drunkeness.

Did we mention your uncle owns HIS OWN BATON? You know, the better to conduct his not-so-spontaneous singalongs.

7 Letters You Can’t Say on License Plates

June 25th, 2008 by theo

WTF! My home state is using my hard earned tax money to recall license plates with the potenially offensive letters W-T-F on them. Seriously, here’s a news story. (the story also has a link to a wonderfully produced slide show that teaches parents that the letter p stands for parents.)

Why stop there? Why not just go ahead and ban the letter F? I mean it stands for FUCK doesn’t it? I don’t want my child seeing the letter F any more.  Cause if they see the letter F they may learn how to spell FUCK. We should ban C too. There’s several reasons for that letter to go away. How about B? A is out. D? Definitely D. Shit! We’ve got to get rid of S.  

My current car tag’s letters are XTK. What does that represent?  Xylophone Tit Kum or X-Box Twat Kock. Oh, my god my car’s a menace.

Letters are dangerous people. You better watch out for them.

Thank God George Carlin didn’t live to see this.