for 21 December 2000. Updated every WEEKDAY.
Hit & Run 12.14.00
That piss-guzzling Joshua "Medicine Man" Cravitt you wrote about today gives me the creeps. Mock away!
Malcolm Davidson - Gdansk, Poland
Thanks, Malcolm. Good to hear from Gdansk, the cradle of Solidarnosc, the fulcrum on which the Soviet Union was overturned. Given the cholesterol-rich Polish diet, however, we urge you to get in touch with the Medicine Man. We've been in contact with the MM ourselves about the possibility of having the Sucksters provide some hands-on cleansing demonstrations or samples from our intestinal tracts. Negotiations are sensitive, but here's Josh's latest pitch:
Tim, Join us for a cleanse. YOU'LL LOVE IT. I PROMISE.
Satisfaction back guarantee. Your doctor of course won't offer you that when he works with/treats you. Says something about the program, doesn't it?
So take the plunge, spit the winkle, get clean!
Evidently you are drawn to like polarity.
Robert R. Osborne
Honored to hear from you, Mr. Osborne. Without your facile and informed introductions Turner Classic Movies would just be another oldies channel.
while it's all fine & good to wax humorous about clinton pardoning all the folks on texas' death row, there is this slight federalism question raised. that's one of those powers that the federal government doesn't have; unless they were charged with federal crimes, clinton can't pardon them.
Christopher J. Le Mon
It must be your firm grasp of the constitution that makes people come up and say "You Le Mon," isn't it Christopher? Thanks for your accurate defense of states' rights. As our list of pardonable offenders was pretty clearly a joke, however, you might want to use your powers of correction on the folks who seriously propose Mumia as a Clinton-pardon candidate. It's our understanding that the award-winning journalist was convicted under the laws of the state of Pennsylvania and is thus no more eligible for a Presidential pardon than Roberto Benigni. Yet people who, as far as we can tell, ain't funnin' around, keep saying Clinton should pardon him. To quote Yakov Smirnoff, What A Country!
Subject: hit n run
was good today
one idea you missed that's floating round ye olde office here
clinton resigns, gore becomes president, gore pardons clinton
We can make beans into peas!
Dream big, Ian!
The last sentence of your piece (Meanwhile, let there be no doubt that the Sucksters have assholes so clean you could eat out of them) reminded me of the way I used to describe this one girl in my college dorms. All she ate was Shredded Wheat, Wheat Thins, and water. I never thought I would see a joke of mine used by Suck.
My sense of humor has been vindicated!
Keep up the good work, guys.
That was a woman in your college dorm, Christopher.
As for the Sucksters' claims, we're just going on the fact that we've been feeding the public a load of shit for five years now.
Is anyone aware that your (Suck's) website has been stuck on the same column for the last 5 or 6 days? Suck hasn't gone out of business, has it?
Incidentally, an excellent column. One of your better ones.
Paul Clark - Shandon, California
Browsers, browsers, browsers!
Hit Reload. Or Refresh. New Sucks are coming your way every day. How's that for a mixed blessing?
"The usual "political prisoners" like (yawn) Leonard Peltier and Mumia Abu-Jamal."
Man, the jaded hipster (the species which produces so much of the content for your aptly-named mag) has just *got* to go. Loved the Bart quote from that cartoon you Americans are so clever at producing: "We need another Vietnam to thin out their ranks."
Fuck your quotation marks, and fuck your blase yawns, motherfuckers. It'd be fun to throw your ass in the slam and directly in front of your new 300-pound bunkmate to provide a new perspective for you on incarceration.
Oh yeah, "peace out", cousins, loved your election.
All the best,
LuckyJim in Montreal
Suck is the 300-pound bunkmate.
But thanks for the new perspective we imagine living in Canada this time of year is a hell of a lot like being incarcerated.
Subject: HPS-Online; who knew?
I had the misfortune of landing on this site two years ago. I was stressed out and looking for some relaxing music on the web, so I did a search for "relaxation." For some inexplicable reason, I next found myself being greeted by a drippy black piece of expelled intestine chunks and reading eerily convincing testimonials about detoxification through super-high colonics (just what the doctor ordered!).
That site is like the heart-ripping scene in Temple Of Doom disgusting, yet magnetic in a respectable, Republican sort of way. Or not. Anyway, I think that scarring experience caused me to switch permanently from Altavista to Google.
By the way, this piece danced around the burning questions on everyone's mind: Is Terry's last name pronounced the same way as the large intestine, and was he teased mercilessly as a child for it?
As an informational service to our readers, we continue to urge all and sundry to visit HPS Online's drippy black piece of expelled intestine chunks gallery.
As for Terry, we know very little about him or his name. Now as always, Terry communicates with us strictly by rumor.
Speaking of horses, did you notice that some enterprising movie theater could make a double bill of The Time of Drunken Horses and All The Pretty Horses? I guess the horses look prettier when they get drunk...
Richard Von Busack
Oh, the horse thing is a definite trend. It sounds like you haven't even heard of Dream with the Horses or The Horse Careless Whisperer or The Black Stallion II: Deeper, Longer, and Uncut or even Not Without My Horses.
You must not have good cheeseburgers where you live. Come to Fulton Street Bar, Fulton and Masonic, San Francisco (motto: "Go Fuck Yourself") and the days of toxicity will be long gone. Plus they know how to pour their Guinness.
There's no way the cheeseburgers there are be better than they are at Hot 'n' Hunky (motto: "Fuck Me"), 18th at Noe.
Cheeseburgers in Paradise,
I recently rented Fight Club on video. What a great movie! Today I was reading Filler and it struck me: Fight Club is pretty full of Filleresque sensibility. Why not return the favour and put some Fight Club in an upcoming Filler? Recycle: it's the only way to fight entropy.
Thankfully sincerely yours,
Hey, you're right. Brad Pitt and Ed Norton really need my boosterism to stay in business, after all.
But instead of infusing Fight Club into Filler, which is incredibly hard to imagine, let me just say that I really liked that movie, too. Particularly the first 20 minutes. I'm not sure how it all fits together, in the end things get pretty absurd and sloppy and preachy and the last time I checked, when someone sticks a pistol in their mouth and pulls the trigger, they need more than a little piece of gauze to keep from coding. But then, you know, they play that great Pixies song, and shit starts blowing up, so I'm basically fine with it.
I'm always eager to suspend my disbelief as long as there are enough bells and whistles to keep me temporarily distracted. As long as the acting is good and the story is interesting, believability is a mere technicality, as far as I'm concerned. I mean, this is the movies. Who needs to believe? Who fucking cares? To some people this makes me "stupid" and "sad"; to others, this qualifies me for "sympathy" and "charitable donations". To me, this makes me "bearable" and "a good person to take to an IMAX movie, but only after a triple frappucino."
But then, can I really be a trusted source of reasonable perspectives? I think not.
I like mine with lettuce and tomato,
Dude, so like I'm sure you're onto something with the whole toxic gas in the mall theory, but can I believe your figures? I thought it was caused by dyes in the cloths, eh?
No, you cannot believe my figures. In fact, please disregard all further information, and keep all sharp objects away from me and anyone who chooses to associate with me.
ok, i've endured the people without eyeballs, and the dope head squirrels, but can you please explain the reason why a floating fish needs to use an escalator? What are the physics involved with that?
Yeah, and I'll bet you hated Fight Club, too, didn't you?
Come on, now, wouldn't we all be better off if we could all just go with the flow and believe whatever they tell us to believe? Let's all conform, goddamn it. Follow the fucking leader for once. It's about time peer pressure and mindless compliance made a comeback.
Conformist without a cause,
As a former Praxair (nee Union Carbide who the fuck came up with "nee" anyways?) employee, I just had to give you props for the last panel of todays strip. They used to spew chemicals onto the cars in the parking lot and ruin the paint job on my 1979 RamCharger. Oh well, the truck died a few years later anyways.
Keep it real,
Man, if they were spewing chemicals that could peel the paint off your truck outside, just imagine the conditions inside. I think I'd be unsettled by my truck's premature death if I were you.
Union Carbide has this wonderful site where they explain how trumped up all those Indians' charges of health problems are. It's funny, because I don't have any more information on this than the next guy, but there's something about a corporate website with a deceptively neutral name and lots of helpful "information" that really raises my stick-it-to-the-man hackles.
What's that arcane faux word? Sticktuitiveness? I think a much more timely update of that term is Stick-it-to-the-man-itiveness: relentless thirst for sticking it to the man.
However, my thirst for sticking it to the man dwindles pretty quickly, and in direct proportion to my thirst for an icy Coke, supersized.
Full of empty talk and no walk,
New Year's sucks. Invariably, I get drunk, loud, have to be ported back to my couch and later, choking down aspirin and whatever stomach medicine is currently in vogue while I try and keep down a half-warmed frozen waffle, wonder why I even agreed to the thirty dollar "champagne at midnight" deal at whatever dive I picked to serve as ground zero for incoherence.
This year's different. No fabulous visions. My first week in the twenty first century will be slack. I have a full week to recover or to maintain a hangover, whichever I choose. Webvan? Yes. Videos? Absolutely. Starting my day at four in the afternoon? Just in time for sunset. Beats watching football or trying to negotiate airports with a stabbing pain in my head over the duration or stumbling around a dark, unfamiliar setting with lots of spangly people crowding the aisles and spilling beer on the vinyl seating in the booths. That may be a fabulous vision though.
I gotta disagree on the cheeseburger thing though. The place I get them serves giant hunks of cow with slabs cheese, not that foil bag encased goop that the bowling alley/theater snack bar attendant uses and served on parmesan focaccia buns. It's cheese on top of bread on cheese on meat. Perfect for the after-netshopping experience and beautiful with fries. They're not portable though. I don't think they deliver either.
Burgess Meredith is a great over-the-shoulder spectre. Personally, though, I'd go for Matthau as my raspy corner man.
Wow, I must've recently slandered the common cheeseburger. How needlessly cruel!
Oh, wait. I remember now. Let me clarify: I have no problem with the cheeseburger, as long as it does, in fact, include a serving of cheese. It's this travesty known as American cheese that I simply cannot tolerate. And believe you me, I can tolerate a lot of things. Mac 'N' Cheese? No problem. Of course, there's that friendly 'N' again. Grated Parmesan, the kind in the green can? Oh, yes. Yes! Chef Boyardee Ravioli? Absosmurfly! Cheese 'N' Crackers? The little red scooper speaks for itself, doesn't it? But American cheese is foul. Maybe if it were powdered, if it made less pretenses toward seeming cheese-like.
Oh wait! Here's the rub I adore the humble Egg McMuffin, which actually features American cheese!
Ok, I'm going to have to withdraw my insult to American cheese. It does sometimes go to good use (besides its obvious role as bathtub caulk, that is).
Boundless in my irrelevance,
You know, you almost make me feel guilty. There's a scene in "Unbreakable" when Bruce Willis' character realizes he's never gotten sick, not one cold, not one fever, not one ingrown toenail. Well, I just had a similar moment. I realized I've never given my parents (or my sister, for that matter) a commemorative present. Not one Christmas, not one birthday, not one Mother's day or Father's day. I give presents to my girlfriend and (sometimes) to my friends, but never my family (except obligatory handmade "presents" made at school, long forgotten). It's not for lack of caring, we simply didn't get the gift-giving circle going. I get stuff from my parents, of course, but post-Santa I haven't gotten anything wrapped or related to a specific occasion. Strangely, my grandparents and our extended family do get presents from us, which means maybe I'll start doling out presents once I'm not living at home anymore. Which could be sooner than I expect if they realize I never give them presents.
Humberto, you seem like a reasonable person. I'm going to chalk this whole thing up to some kind of Mexico City thing and let it slide. Mexico City's a pretty fun and exciting place. I can only assume that you've got better shit to do than shop at Best Buy.
I am going to suggest you move out, though. You really won't begin to think straight (or get laid, for that matter) if you don't.
None of my business,
so i go out to lunch with some coworkers, and we go to this nice little joint just downstairs from our office, and I ask what the soup of the day is and the waiter says that it's a nice puree of pumpkin and rice, and that sounds pretty good to me, so instead of a salad i order a cup of soup to go with my steak au poirve, and we get a nice bottle of wine and we lay into a deep conversation about something and everyone else gets their salads and i don't even notice my soup hasn't come, and then we get our entrees and we all enjoy a pleasant lunch and then have a little desert, too, and the bill comes and the first thing on the bill is a cup of soup and, even though i am thoroughly sated now, i suddenly miss my cup of soup really bad, but the bill is steep and we're late as it is so i can't get it now, and up until that point I had enjoyed my lunch even without the soup, and now i'm staring at the bill for a lunch i've already eaten, save for a measly cup of pumkin and rice soup which is ruining the whole thing, and i ask you:
why, polly? why?
thanks a lot,
I don't really understand regrets, personally, so I can't help you. Sure, I can understand feeling bad about missing that soup, say, right after your steak arrived. Oh, yes, I understand that perfectly. But after you're no longer hungry? That's sort of like wishing your first girlfriend in high school were prettier.
I do have a great deal of empathy for you regretters, no doubt. I just try not to think about the way your minds work too much. It's like the guy who told me he gagged every time he brushed his tongue, and I've gagged every time I brushed my tongue, ever since.
Which is why I keep passing along the curse.
Subject: Brown Ratan
Scouring Pad Records is pleased to announce the debut release of Brown Ratan, an all-girl band from L.A.'s "funky" Silver Lake area. Their new CD, titled "52 Weeks of Domestic Violence and the Hot Dog Flavored Water," explores the frustration and angst of modern femininity against a tapestry of Zydeco, Speed Metal, and Chamber Music influences.
Please feel free to check them out here.
Gabriel Golden, President and Chief Flinchy Pussy Scouring Pad Records (and Ears Pierced Painlessly)
I've always found Silverlake notably lacking in the "funky" department (although that's a mark in its favor, as far as I'm concerned), all-girl bands raise my hackles almost as much as websites sponsored by Union Carbide do, and MP3 files crash my Powerbook G3. I couldn't be a lamer human being if I wore sweatershirts with felt Christmas trees sewn onto them.
Besides, there's no way this band of yours is even half as good as hazel motes, also from funky Silverlake, with a CD titled, strangely enough, 52-week low. An utterly timely title, no?
So many coincidences... Wait. Are you making fun?
If so, I'll toast to you with my customary glass of Sparkling Water flavored with Hot Dog. L'eau de Weinie. C'est manifique!