Earlier in the week I was driving home from work — in the middle of the night — and my phone started going crazy. Every time I receive a text message, you see, my Droid goes DROOOOID! And it was doing that over and over again. WTS?
I picked it up and had a look, while traveling at 85 mph, and it was Metten. He was cranking off a whole series of text messages, real late at night. Huh, he must be drunk, I thought.
When I got home I read them, and here’s what they said:
So I’m standing there minding my own business, right?
And this guy walks up to me on my left…
He hands me this thing and says, “Here, I’m supposed to pass you this.”
I take the thing, hold it up and look at it and I’m like, “What the fuck is this?”
And the guy says, “I’m told it’s a dutchie.”
And I go, “What the fuck is a dutchie?”
He says, “I dunno…but I was supposed to pass it to you…”
So now I got this dutchie. Weird, huh?
Each of those is an individual text message, sent by Metten in the dark of night. They made me laugh, but I have a feeling my original estimation of his… state, was correct. What do you think?
And I’m fundamentally opposed to explaining jokes, but some of you younger whippersnappers are probably scratching your heads in confusion. So, I’ll break my rule, and link to this video of a big hit song from 1982.
I’m fairly certain “dutchie” is slang for “beer nuts.” but I guess I could be wrong.
For a Question of the Day, I’d like to know which living person you’d most like to share a vehicle with, on a long road trip. Say, for instance, you’ve accepted a job of carrying contraband Coors beer from Texas to Georgia. Who would you like to be riding shotgun during the journey?
Please keep in mind that the two of you will be together for many hours. So it’s important to choose someone who can be tolerated in large doses. People like Robin Williams might be amusing for the first ten minutes, but after a while most of us would likely want to turn in our seats and kick his ass out the side door, without first tapping the brakes.
Also, you might want to be careful going highbrow with this thing. Some folks might be tempted to say Stephen Hawking, or someone like that. And while his conversation would undoubtedly be fascinating, there are other considerations…
For instance, how does he talk? I’m unfamiliar with the situation. Is it one of those electric voice box deals? If so, it’s an instant disqualification. I hate to be insensitive, but I’ve had experience with those vibrating throat-hole vibration devices, and they frighten me.
There was an old man on my paper route who was very nice and friendly, but when he’d hold that microphone up to his neck and start going off like Frampton Comes Alive, it freaked me out a little. One time there was a malfunction and the box started feeding-back on him, and I was left shaking in my Pro Keds for the next two hours. “Do you feel…?” Holy shit!
No, I’d have to go with someone who has lived through much history, and seen a lot of stuff — preferably about baseball. Someone like Vin Scully. Or Sparky Anderson. Or maybe even Joe Garagiola. I’m not sure how Sparky and Joe are doing these days, but if they’re coherent, I think they’d be great car mates.
Clive Bull would be a good choice, as well.
If I could choose a dead person, I might go with Jean Shepherd. But let’s stick with the living for this exercise, if you don’t mind.
And there ya go: your Question of the Day. I’m not sure when I’ll update again, but probably Saturday or Sunday. Maybe Monday. Who knows? I certainly don’t.
In any case, I’ll see you whenever it happens. A few days older, and a little bit dumber.
Have a great day, my friends.
Now playing in the bunker
Evil Twin shirts now only $13!
Northwest Championship Wrestling. Ron Forsell was one of the announcers. This was on KIRO about 1958-1966. My favorite wrassler was Billy White Wolf, allegedly a Native American. He was a good guy, and when he really got torked off, he did a war dance and administered first, a single tomahawk chop, then the dreaded double tomahawk chop.
Tough Tony Borne was one of the bad guys, I think. The Outlaw was a masked bad guy. The midgets wrestled every couple of months, both men and women. I remember Sky Low Low, also an Indian.
I haven’t thought of this stuff for nearly 50 years. My dad and I watched every week. I’ll think of more wrasslers later.
Ooh, ooh, oooh! Tough Tony’s son, Matt Borne was actually dating Tonya Harding at one time.
Do you remember Stan Stasiak…the guy with the “patented” Heart Punch? Did the big windup while his opponent stood still, then Stan punched him in the heart, which would stop the guy’s heart…just long enough to be pinned?
Anyway, Stan died of a heart attack several years ago. After his retirement from wresting, he worked as a security guard at Eaton’s department store in Toronto. Definitely NOT a store I’d want to get caught shoplifting at, lol!
Here’s a cool website: dutchsavage.com
Seriousy, for a road trip, I would go with C.C. Deville of Poison. He seems like a cool guy, and I’ll bet he has a zillion great stories.
My last road trip across the country was with a guy I’ve know since kindergarten. Drove my wife’s Toyota from Buffalo to Seattle. Took us 5 days, and we chilled out and visited a bunch of incredible tourist traps.
Best part was going through Butte, Montana on a Sunday, just after “Evel Knevel Days” had ended. We stopped for gas, and the gas station clerk regaled us with stories of Spanky Spangler’s ramp to ramp jump in an old Monte Carlo the night before, which put him in the hospital.
Heading out of town, I let my friend drive while I took a nap. He’s a near chain smoker, and at the next rest area he pulled in for a smoke. He started smacking my arm, and yelled, “Hey! Check it out!” And there on a trailer behind a motorhome was Spanky Spangler’s wiped out Monte Carlo. We got out and posed for some pictures beside it.
Clint…ad wrestling, Dad
Northwest Championship Wrestling was on KIRO every Saturday from 6:30 until 7:30. My Dad and I would watch it together, then he and Mom would go square dancing for the evening. It was great father/son time. When I think of all the hours Dad allocated each week to spend time with my sister and me (he had one of those 11-hour a day jobs) I miss him all the more.
He had a 1950 Harley-74ci, a big bike, and after his 11 hour shift (if it wasn’t raining hard) he’d plop my sister on the gas tank and me on the back of the seat, and we’d ride all over the north end of Tacoma, including some trails in the area around the Channel 13 broadcast tower. We were the envy of the neighborhood kids.
That’s one wild Dutch Savage site with those videos. I have no recollection of those….jtb
Tough Tony Borne’s son and Tonya Harding somehow just seem the perfect couple. If the house is leaking in a rain storm, Matt could just lift it by the hitch and empty it. That match has many positives, including that it would make Dr. Phil shit blood.
The Evil Twin says
Speaking of wrestling – is anybody on this board into (and I mean hardcore into) extreme, bloody wrestling stuff like SWA/IWA EastCoast Hardcore Wrestling? I’ve got a bunch of stuff that needs a good home, DVDs, ticket stubs and the like, including a large piece of tabletop autographed by Abdullah The Butcher after he smashed The Necrobutcher through it! If interested, contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org. It’s a box full of stuff and I’ll ship it for free – I just want it all to go to a good home (no assholes, please – you know who you are).
Hawk your Nazi bullshit someplace else.
The Evil Twin says
Not “hawking.” It’s free!
I knew that was coming but it helped the joke I thought. This is a tough fucking room I tell ya!
The Evil Twin says
The Evil Twin says
Sorry, that email is email@example.com. Not .net!
Oh…and by the way…I’ve got enough broken tables with blood on ’em around here to last me a while. Thanks anayway man.
This has been an interesting set of comments. The new reply feature is adding a new dimension to the procedings; I like it.
I would like to go on a cross country trip with the sweet, sainted Bonnie Franklin. I would also ask Mackenzie Phillips and Valerie Bertinelli to come along as well.
Juliette Lewis would be great. Bridget Fonda, Jeniffer Jason Leigh…ok…wait…I realize I’m thinking about something else here.
I would want Gordon Ramsey. Can you imagine that man if you got stuck in traffic? He would probably get out of the vehicle and start kicking ass all the while screaming “Move your fucking car, you donkey!!” Classic.
That would be excellent. Gordon Ramsey. I forgot about him.
Ian the Errolite says
‘fuck me, call yourself a driver? you’re a fucking disgrace!’
I don’t know if I could handle that for long!
WB in OH says
MOUNTAINEERS!!! Somebody here has to give a shit.
[Editor’s note: This story has a politician in it, but is not political. Sexist? Quite possibly. But not political.]
3 AM. I’m fast asleep, dreaming I’m in a lakeside restaurant in the Finger Lake region of New York. The waitress has just delivered a big steaming plate of artery-clogging fried haddock and french fries and is setting down a glass of Sam Adams. Just as my hands wrap around the frosty mug, an obscene caterwauling starts up. I look up at my waitress and to my horror she is no longer a reasonable facsimile of a St. Paulie Girl. No, now she’s sporting the head of Pennsylvania state Senator Jan Orie and from the senator’s gaping mouth the agonizing screeching is emitting.
Naturally I spazzed, spilled the beer (horrors!), and fell back from the table in terror. And immediately I found myself sitting up in bed in a cold sweat. But the sound was still there. Turns out there were two stray cats having at it on my back porch. UGH! So I shooed them away and tried to go back to bed, but sleep was elusive.
There are two morals to this story. One, get your pets spayed or neutered. Two, if you’re running for election and you choose to daily inundate your constituents with 8.5×11 three-ply full color flyers touting your various accomplishments, you ought to try not looking like an extra from “Battleship Earth” on them. Just sayin’.
That is all.
What’s that? Please return to dick jokes and dirty limericks? Well okay then. Twist my arm.
There was a young gal from Hai Long
Went searching for cock wide and long
She mounted a whale
Twas a horrible tale
Her tombstone reads: “Death by schlong.”
I’m glad the new update is here. I had a dick limerick ready but knew that it would be stuck here at the en which is…pathetic.
Somebody go be first!
Since Jeff has the picture of Vin Scully there, it got me to thinking about which storied baseball broadcasters to ride with and the great stories they’d tell. I don’t want to take them, though.
Instead, I choose Tim McCarver, Bob Costas, Joe Morgan and John Miller. All sedated and with their mouths duct taped shut and bound so they can’t escape. They’d be riding in the trunk.
I’d also have a .45, fully loaded with a couple of extra magazines (godda make sure I get the job done) and a shovel.
On second though, fuck the shovel. I’d just dump ’em out in a ditch or something.
You still got it Jeff… the first post ive read in months and I’m laughing so hard i’m crying over here with that frampton line.
got a new j-o-b and moved to the cesspool some people call New York(would hate to see York)? few months back and just havent had free time.
Great stuff as usual! Cheers Surfers
Chris Rock of course