Part of being a Van Gogh-Gogh means you’re going to have to do some court-ordered community service. We usually cop out by doing some Public Service Announcements. Here’s one for you now!

Hey we got you a Christmas present! Open it! Open it! That’s right! Used men’s underwear! The tight, white kind! Perfect for everbody! You don’t have a problem with used clothing do you? Aw c’mon! Greenpeace and all that crap! Save the planet! Save the whales! Save me some money!

Alright fine, you ungrateful Nimrod. Here: Christmas comedy! And here’s some more, even:
Home Made Gifts
A Holiday Tale
Van Gogh-Goghs to Participate in Ritualized Capitalist Excess
Winter Holidays Announce Three-Way Strategic Merger
Holiday Season Marketing Effort

I hope you choke on it.

Snazz up your life, or the life of a friend, relative, or co-worker, and buy Van Gogh-Gogh crap for Christmas presents. Visit our VGG CafePress store for t-shirts, coffe mugs, mouse pads, and God know what all else. Wait… sorry I have to take this… yello?…. hi God! What’s that, God? We have Bears Did Terrible Things To Me t-shirts? Awesome! Now you can look like the superhero with the worst origin ever!

…who just passed away a few days ago, the Van Gogh-Goghs would like to present this essay from Inauguration Day 2001, because, um, it’s the only Robet Altman-related thing I think we have. Enjoy, and give our best to Abe Lincoln, Bob.

Why Did I Agree To Help Robert Altman Move?

by T. Mike

Oh, my aching back! Cripes! I can barely move! And my feet! Dear God are my dogs barking! This past weekend was one of the most miserable weekends of my life. For that was the weekend I helped famed movie director Robert Altman move. Robert Altman was as good as his word – he said he would move to France if George W. Bush became president. He’s a man of his word, you have to give him that- not like those flip-flopping Hollywood phonies Alec Baldwin and Kim Bassinger. They backpedaled immediately on leaving the country in the event of a Bush presidency. Wusses.

No, Robert Altman said he was Franceward bound, and that’s where he probably is right now, sipping Champagne on the Seine as bereted lackeys unpack his boxes. You know, in France they think he’s a genius. I mean, he IS a genius, and Americans also think he’s a genius, I just meant it was nice that he went to a country that also appreciates the work of a man who gave us 1993’s emotionally resonant Short Cuts.

We started with his matching set of sofa beds and it just got worse from there. He didn’t like closets, so most rooms had oak wardrobes. And I never saw so many credenzas in my life. Everywhere you turned, boom, there was a credenza.

Watching him pack things into boxes was just sad. He would just throw a bunch of random crap into a box and tape it up. He hadn’t gone through anything. I swear one box was full of old Beverly Hills phone books. I almost stopped talking about the brilliant casting of 1980’s Popeye to comment on it, but I decided I had better let it slide. I had already had an awkward moment when I asked, “When are the others getting here?” and he said, “What others?”

But I think the saddest moment came Saturday when we took a well deserved break to watch the inauguration on his heavy looking wide screen (Why couldn’t he have bought one was of those nice new light flat screens?!). He seemed to watch intently, especially when the camera cut to the crowd. His trained director’s eyes were scanning, scanning, scanning. But for what? Right after Bush took the oath, Altman seemed to sag visibly. I watched the great man for a second.

“Turn it off,” he said.
“What’s the matter?” I asked jokingly, “You were hoping he’d get assassinated right during the oath of office?”
Altman turned with a start and stared at me. I think I heard him mumble “maybe” under his breath, but then he jerked his head toward the Italian-marble-topped coffee table.
“Let’s get that on the truck,” he said. I let out a little sigh and grabbed one end.
“Hey! Lift with your legs, not your back, buddy” he said. If I had a nickel for every time he said that to me, I could have used the money to hire some professional movers. And I had a sneaking suspicion he kept calling me ‘buddy’ because he had forgotten my name.
“We’ll get the refrigerators next, buddy,” he said as I walked backward down the stairs with the coffee table.
“Quit pushing! Not so fast!” I said. Somehow I always ended up being the one to walk backwards, listening to his innumerable admonitions to watch the door frame. Why a big celebrity director was so adamant about wanting his security deposit back was beyond me. And why the hell did he need THREE refrigerators?

And why oh why did I have to bump into him in that Safeway? Why did I have to offer a few trenchant insights into the elegiac americana of his epic 1975 work, Nashville, that got us talking? Why did I tell him 1999’s Cookie’s Fortune was undeservedly underrated? Why, oh why oh why did I agree to help him move? What the hell was I thinking? I guess I was just overwhelmed by his star power – I mean, the guy directed M*A*S*H (1970), the AFI number 7 American film comedy of all time! But who knew he would own so many heavy, heavy things? I thought it would be all movie posters and maybe a couple of Oscars or something. Throw ’em in a box, throw ’em in the truck, and boom! It’s beer time! How wrong I was. How very, very wrong.

And finally, my back aching, my muscles sore, my shirt soaked with sweat, and after trying to make small talk by praising his early films Countdown (1968) and That Cold Day in the Park (1969), what do you think he did? Did he say “Great job, pizza’s on me?” Pfft! No.

Avoiding my gaze, he muttered “thanks,” and said, “Look me up if you ever get to Paris, buddy,” as he hustled me out, DELIBERATELY not giving me his new address. I didn’t push it cause I was ready to get the hell out of there. But… no beer, no pizza – I mean, those things are just common courtesy – it’s understood that at the end of a move there will be beer and pizza.

I pity the poor frogs he hornswoggles into helping him move into his new place in France. God as my witness, I will never help Robert Altman move again. I don’t care if Hitler gets elected president.

Dammit. Yesterday we made our election prediction that NO howler monkeys would be elected. We honestly thought that now-Senator-Elect Ook had no chance of getting elected. Looks like the American public was more fed up with the Republican Party than we thought. Also, don’t bother emailing us about Congressman Ooohaha, he’s a spider monkey and was a shoo-in for re-election. That’s why we specified no howler monkeys.

Dammit.

Tip number 105: When you’re buying liquor for your shower, remember:

Buy your spirits in plastic bottles, because the tub can get really slippery and you’re drunk.

If you need to, you may wish to consider decanting your spirits from their glass containers into a plastic bottle, such as a Mrs. Butterworth’s bottle, who’s pleasing feminine form allows for a good grip.

Just another helpful tip from your friends at vgg.com.

While you’re voting, take a moment to reflect back to six years ago, when the Van Gogh-Goghs held the 1st online election for Movie President of the United States of America. Our nigh-prescient election had Alan Alda winning the election. Alda, as California Senator Arnold Vinick, would have won the 2006 election on The West Wing, if John Spencer, the actor playing his opponent’s vice presidential candidate, had not died in real life (See this article.) So with such a record under our belt, we feel free to prognosticate again. This time, we’re going out on a limb and say absolutely NO howler monkeys will be elected.

To celebrate the anniversary of our Lord and savior (President William Howard Taft) being nailed to a pumpkin, and then rising again three days later as a scary, scary ghost demanding candy, The Van Gogh-Goghs present our collection of Halloween comedy!

In the defense of his fantasy Saturday Night Live team: T. Mike has only one thing to say:

T. Mike’s team eats bitches like your teams and shits them out like the bitches they are. Bitch, you just got bitch-shitted, bitch- how’s that make your bitch self feel, bitch?

All y’all haterz just be riding T. Mike’s jock.

The Van Gogh-Goghs need YOU! We’ve created our fantasy Saturday Night Live casts! We had a draft, went through the rounds, oy such drama! Well now it’s time for you, the Internet surfing public to cast your vote for the best team!!!! Use the comments link to post YOUR VOTE!

As a reminder, here are the team rosters:

Galen Black’s Team: John Belushi, Gilda Radner, Jan Hooks, Tina Fey (newscaster), Don Novello, Billy Crystal, Garrett Morris, Maya Rudolph, Fred Armisen, Terry Sweeney.

Charles Rempel’s Team: Eddie Murphy, Bill Murray, Jon Lovitz, Darrell Hammond, Joe Piscopo, Ben Stiller, Nora Dunn, Jane Curtin, Kristen Wiig, Jane Curtin (newscaster).

Rob Terrell’s Team: Chevy Chase (newscaster), Will Ferrell, Chevy Chase, Chris Kattan, David Spade, Tim Meadows, Rachel Dratch, Molly Shannon, Cheri Oteri, Jimmy Fallon.

Alan Benson’s Team: Al Franken, Dennis Miller (newscaster), Dan Aykroyd, Laraine Newman, Harry Shearer, Mary Gross, A. Whitney Brown, Tim Kazurinsky, Danitra Vance, Michael O’Donoghue.

Jason Torchinsky’s Team: Phil Hartman, Chris Elliott, Chris Rock, Martin Short, Christopher Guest, Brian Doyle-Murray, Kevin Nealon (newscaster), Sarah Silverman, Julia Sweeney, Amy Poehler.

T. Mike Childs’ Team: Mike Myers, Dana Carvey, Adam Sandler, Chris Farley, Rob Schneider, Horatio Sanz, Victoria Jackson, Ana Gasteyer, Robin Duke, Norm MacDonald (newscaster).
Use the comments link to post YOUR VOTE for the best (and worst) team!!!