BREAKING: Count's parole revoked!

So I was thinking about Halloween the other day and naturally my thoughts quickly turned to the eternal question, "What's Count Grishnackh doing for the big day this year?" Is Halloween a big holiday for white supremecists? It's hard to tell because not all nazis love satan. Anyway, it doesn't matter, because according to the Burzum website, Count is going to have to do his trick or treating in the hole again this year. That's right, it's official: poor Varg's parole has been revoked and he won't get another chance at freedom until April 2008!

Needless to say, I find this hilarious. I'm sure this latest monkey wrench in his plans to slink around in the woods of the north making his own soap and organizing some kind of Scando takeover will drive him to frantically scrawl more hysterical articles about the man keeping him down. In September alone, he's produced an entire series of articles entitled "A Bard's Tale" (which includes the aeonian "Ring of Andvari") and the soon-to-be-legendary narrative "Lords of Lies". Take a wild guess what that one's about.

The Count's latest personal crusade is against the impending film version of "Lords of Chaos". Here's the synopsis, straight from director Hans Fjellestad's website: "Set inside the notorious Norwegian Black Metal music scene of the early 1990s, this narrative feature follows a group of dedicated musicians and their charismatic figureheads—Count Grishnackh and Euronymous—as their art and music transform into real violence in the streets of Northern Europe. Amid escalating murder and mayhem, based on true events, this is the story of the rise and fall of two self-appointed Kings of Rock, with the heart of a Sam Peckinpah western. Shooting begins in late 2006 in Scandinavia."

While that sounds like all kinds of awesome to me, to the Grand Poobah of Persecution it's slander. The Burzum webmaster reports: "Varg Vikernes would like to state that a recently announced by the media film by Hans Fjellestad called 'Lords Of Chaos' is using Varg’s name and the whole Story without any permission. This movie is obviously going to be another piece of lies and utterly silly prejudices. Boycott this film instead of discussing it and spreading news about it all over the net, in case you wish to support Varg. Stop the Hollywood-dregs!"

Oops! Looks like I'm fueling lies and propaganda by discussing this film and spreading news about it all over the net! Just to be fair (and for kicks) I checked out "Lord of Lies" and my curiosity paid off, as it included this stellar assessment from the Count himself: "The newspaper headlines spell 'Film about the Count', 'Varg Vikernes goes to Hollywood' and so forth, but it's just a hoax; they misuse my (nick-)name to promote a film that obviously has nothing to do with me. They don't even base it on reality, but on the laveyish (from the name of Anton LaVey; the founder of the sorry "Church of Satan") lies of Michael Jenkins Moynihan and his idiot companion, Didrik Søderlind, the two satanic clowns responsible for 'Lords Of Chaos.' So, I will encourage everybody to sabotage this film and the production of this film by all legal means, and to simply boycott it."

Hey, everybody, let's have a sit-in! That's always an effective method of protest. And it's pretty much the only one available to Varg at the moment. HA! And what if the sit-in became a LOVE-in? Now that would really whip him into a frenzy.

Seriously, I'm actually starting to feel sorry for the other prisoners that are trapped in there with him. His constant bellyaching gives me a migraine and I'm not even on the same continent as he is. Maybe we should hold a drive to collect earplugs for the inmates of Tromsø Prison so they can carve their shivs and ferment wine in the toilet in peace. They must have the patience of saints there. Otherwise he would have been shanked within the first week.

As always, he signs off his articles with a quote that is supposed to make you think or something, and this edition's is: Amicus certus in re incerta cernitur (In the time of need you will learn who your friends are). Wait a minute, I think they said this on The Sopranos once.


It's time for an intervention (or three)

This post is brought to you by Pete Doherty, bless his heart. Here he is smoking a tray.

Anyway, is it wrong that I'm kinda into that show "Intervention" on A&E? I don't know how I should feel about that. Maybe it makes me a bad person, I don't know. But it's a good show. And sometimes you really hope that the addicts can pull it together. Other times, you kind of hope they are arrested and put away for the sake of the family. That's why I decided to try to organize a few interventions of my own—because for my sake, something needs to be done here. And as always, I like to try to make the world a better place, if and when I can.

The "CSI" Intervention
One look at the picture at right will tell you why this intervention is needed ASAP. Of course this picture is posed because we all know K-Fed would need the "special people" script with pictures, but sadly the rumors are true: Federline is going to guest star on "CSI" this season. Allegedly he's going to be playing some kind of gangster thug, a role that will force him to really dig, and this tells me that the writers of "CSI" are actually taking him seriously as a guest star; if they had any sense of humor at all, they would have made him a social services worker investigating child abuse or a priest or something. Talk about a jump the shark moment—this assjacker woodenly stammering his way through a scene where he must interact with studly investigators Nick Stokes and Warwick Brown. He may possibly be the worst "celebrity" guest star on a television show in history. It's worse than when Mr. Carlson from WKRP tried to molest Arnold and Dudley on "Dif'rent Strokes". Now, if he was guesting on "CSI: Miami" I wouldn't be so upset; he'd fit right in with all the other obvious idiots masquerading as scientists and whatnot.

While we're on the subject of talent-free rubes, you've got to see the ridiculous new intro to Mrs. Federline's website; it's totally hilarious. Make sure you have the sound on really loud, too—you'll think you're really in the skank jungle.

The Whoever-Keeps-Giving-Jessica-Simpson-Acting-Jobs Intervention
I think "Employee of the Month" has the potential to be the worst movie ever made, topping even my least favorite movie of all time ("Twins"). I think it might make "Beerfest" look like "Some Like It Hot" on the comedy scale. Let me guess what happens: Dane Cook plays a screwoff working at Wal-Mart who finds out the busty cashier, played by Simp-Simp, has a thing for the employee of the month, so he does whatever he can to win the title. Along the way, someone gets kicked in the balls, someone gets caught masterbating in the store, Jessica's boobs are mentioned ad nauseum, and Dane finds out that the object of his desire is actually has a heart of gold and he suddenly wants to get to know her and not just fuck her. Jessica finds out about the ploy and tells Dane to get out of her and her boobs' lives, but when he does something really dorky-sweet (most likely singing "I Want To Be Loved By You" into a mop handle while the photo lab guy surprises everyone with some kind of krunk dance routine) and wins her over. The happy ending also includes some kind of double entendre reference to Dane finally getting a handful of the two reasons Jessica Simpson is famous in the first place. Non-hilarity ensues.

The Ville Intervention
It pains me to write this. It pains me even more to see the pictures (and I won't post them because I prefer to remember him as he was), but our beautiful, beloved Ville is slipping away. A bad breakup and general consumption issues has caused him to balloon up Haim-style and deteriorate from dirty/sexy to a code red stankonia. This just tears me up inside. Ville, sit here between Lola and I, we have written letters to you. I'll go first:

Dear Ville,
For the love of all that's holy, get a fucking grip, dude. I'll get that weight off of you in two weeks. Saddle up.

Oh, weird...Lola's letter says the exact same thing! Just say the word and you'll be on a plane to our special treatment center. It's so exclusive that you'll be the only patient, and you'll get one-on-one rehabilitation unfounded in most facilities. Be prepared, it's going to be a rough journey. But it'll be the toughest experience you'll ever love. We promise!

For the record, I love Dr. Bunsen Honeydew. He has no eyes, yet he wears glasses. And he would make a better guest star on "CSI" than Federline. He's definitely a more believable scientist than Emily Proctor.


This is what too much rocking can do to you

Do you know who this man is? Here's a hint: it's NOT Truman Capote. Here's another hint: you can take the wildest guess ever and it still won't be right. Are you ready for the answer?


Remember what he used to look like back in the "Goody Two Shoes", dating-Jamie-Lee-Curtis days? He was pretty hot, if I recall correctly. Time, the road and biopolar disorder (which, according to wikipedia, led him to wave a fake gun and threaten people in a pub) has caused this man to go from '80s coverboy to a pasty, doughy freakshow. Kind of interesting (read: chilling) to see how the mighty have fallen. This slideshow features then and now pics of music legends and one-hit wonders so you can see for yourself what happens when you live too much of the high life. For example: Bruce Springsteen? Not so bad. Gary Glitter? Holy fucking shit! I mean, he looked like a lunatic before, but now he's practically advertising "I'M INTO KIDDIE PORN". He should be jailed for life based on what he LOOKS LIKE he's up to in that "now" picture.

Some more vitally important observations:
• I'm not one to start rumors, but I think there is a decent possibility that Eddie Van Halen has been chasing a few dragons around, if you know what I'm saying. Jesus, that man looks bad. No wonder Valerie divorced him; I wouldn't want to wake up and see that thing drooling on the pillow next to me. And he looks like he's got really bad breath, most likely a combo of stale Kools, cough syrup and grocery store sushi.

• It's confirmed: Tom Petty is actually dead and his reanimated corpse is now walking around pretending to be alive Tom Petty and is only moments away from tearing the flesh off of some unsuspecting innocent. Watch out! But despite his return from the crypt, his hair is exactly the same as it used to be. Weird.

• Axl, Axl...my god, Axl. Suddenly he's out in public all the time again and it makes you wonder what was happening all that time he was living as a recluse and consulting psychics about if he should leave the house today. All that plastic surgery, all the godforsaken braided dreds. There's no more sense of mystery to Axl; the only question surrounding him now is how is it that Duff (whose kidney or liver or something fucking EXPLODED because of all his drinking) and Slash (who had to hired a guy to carry him around because he was always so wasted) both look better.

• Who has the more offensive caps—Hillary Duff, Gary Busey or Jon Bon Jovi? OK, OK, Busey wins because I think his are made out of wood, like George Washington, but the point is: why do people get caps that are pure white instead of a realistic tooth color? Teeth are not pure white! But they are also not pure black, Eddie Van Halen.

• I hate English-manor, horsemistress-chic Madonna.

• If Phil Collins ever needs a decoy when he's running away from fans trying to create a diversion, whatever, I have a suggestion:

All in all, good snarky fun, per usual. Check it out, mofos, and feel good about how you look. Oh, and also...FREE DOG!

Free Dog!

We here at Stupid & Contagious (i.e. me) are big supporters of Dog the Bounty Hunter and if you haven't heard, his little scrape with the Mexican law has become more like a gash in the last couple of days. What we shouldn't fail to remember is that Dog & Co. captured a guy who made a run for the border with more than 80 COUNTS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT on his head. Gee, sorry, for taking that scumbucket away from the cushy Max Factor-heir lifestyle he was leading down there in Puerto Villarta where he was most likely still dropping roofies in drinks and attacking god-only-knows how many others. Oh yeah, and he's now currently serving a 124-year prison term for rape.

Show your support for Dog, Tim and Leland Chapman by signing this petition. DO IT! Let's get the good guys out of prison and back to Hawaii to keep up the good work. Dog rocks!


The Soon-To-Be Famous First Line Quiz: The '80s

I don't know about you, but that last post left a bad taste in my mouth. And by bad taste, I mean the rank tang of regurgitation. So let's cleanse the palate with some more '80s goodness, shall we? Here are the first lines from 50 '80s songs—see if you can guess what they are. It's already pretty tricky, and make it even trickier, I reproduced the lines using proper punctuation (or as close to it as I can get)...you may be surprised how much harder that makes it! I'll post the answers in the comments section below the post. Don't peek!

Good luck, sweeties!

1. Now, the king told the boogie men, "You have to let that raga drop."
2. You're wondering who I am—machine or mannequin.
3. Give me time to realize my crime. Let me love and steal.
4. I can't believe the news today; I can't close my eyes and make it go away.
5. She'll only come out at night, —the lean and hungry type.
6. Who's gonna tell you when it's too late? Who's gonna tell you things aren't so great?
7. Er war ein Punker, und er lebte in der großen Stadt.
8. No New Year's Day to celebrate; no chocolate-covered candy hearts to give away.
9. Lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you.
10. Well, I'm an axegrinder piledriver.
11. Dig, if you will, the picture of you and I engaged in a kiss.
12. Every time I think of you, I feel a shot right through with a bolt of blue.
13. Jump back, what's that sound ? Here she comes, full blast and top down.
14. Watch out, you might get what you're after.
15. Will I see him on the TV, preachin' 'bout the promised land?
16. Something in the way you love me won't let me be.
17. I wanted to be with you alone and talk about the weather.
18. Turn around. Every now and then I get a little bit lonely and you're never coming around.
19. I went to a party last Saturday night; I didn't get laid, I got in a fight.
20. Sometimes, you're better off dead.
21. Hast du etwas Zeit für mich
22. There are things that you guess and things that you know.
23. We're talking away. I don't know what I'm to say. I'll say it anyway.
24. Hey, you! Get into my car!
25. I know just how to whisper, and I know just how to cry. I know just where to find the answers, and I know just how to lie.
26. This whole life seems much too long; little point in going on.
27. There's a little black spot on the sun today. It's the same old thing as yesterday
28. All you've got is this moment. The twenty-first century's yesterday.
29. What you gonna do when you get out of jail?
30. I heard you on the wireless back in '52, lying awake intent at tuning in on you.
31. The sun goes down, the night rolls in; you can feel it starting all over again.
32. You turn me on. You lift me up, and like the sweetest cup, I'd share with you.
33. Josie's on a vacation far away.
34. It's Christmastime; —there's no need to be afraid; at Christmastime, we let in light and we banish shade.
35. Hot summer streets and the pavements are burning.
36. You've gone too far this time and I'm dancing on the valentine.
37. Once I had a love and it was a gas.
38. I walked along the avenue. I never thought I'd meet a girl like you.
39. Ricky was a young boy; he had a heart of stone.
40. If I get to know your name, well, I could trace your private number, baby.
41. Got to take a little time, a little time to think things over.
42. Love is like a bomb, baby. Come on, get it on.
43. She was more like a beauty queen from a movie scene.
44. Just and urchin living under the streets, I'm a hard case that's tough to beat.
45. You put the boom-boom into my heart.
46. There comes a time when we need a certain call when the world must come together as one.
47. There'’s this girl that'’s been on my mind all the time.
48. Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world. She took the midnight train going anywhere.
49. I feel a hot wind on my shoulder and the touch of a world that is older.
50. Jump on outta bed and I stumble to the kitchen, pour myself a cup of ambition.

4 or less: I'm guessing you probably weren't even alive in the '80s.
5–14: Nick at Nite doesn't count as an '80s experience.
15–24: You got the easy ones!
25–34: Ronald Reagan presents you with an award for '80s superstar!
35–45: Denny Terrio, is that you?
45+: Wow, I'm impressed. And you need some serious help.


Like, omigod, Heinrich Himmler is sooooo hottt!

Awww, aren't they too precious? They kind of remind me of a pre-derelique-era Mary Kate and Ashley. Indeed, these two shiny, happy little moppets are a bit infamous in their own right; the 14-year-old twins are Lynx and Lamb Gaede, otherwise known as California folkpop duo Prussian Blue.

Yes, you read that right—their names are Lynx and Lamb. But that's not the scariest part. Take a gander, if you will, at their adorable little baby tees and you'll see a very distinctive homage to a famous historical figure. They're actually just normal teens with healthy, girly interest in boys, parties, gossip and makeup. Oh, and Rudolph Hess. That's right, Lynx and Lamb are NAZIS!

Again, you read that right. Prussian Blue has a message and it's WHITE POWER. But it's a message disguised in catchy, off-key little Jewel-like tunes, and it's coming out of the mouths of these vampy teen Lolitas. You can imagine how that gets the tattooed baldys in the crowd going. Especially when they are singing songs called "I Will Bleed For You" while wearing flirty little dirndls...um, YUCK. "I mean, what young, red-blooded American boy isn't going to find two blonde twins, sixteen years old, singing about white pride and pride in your race...very appealing?" says their Mommie Dearest/madam, April. Klassy!

And the fun has just begun. On Primetime Live, they popped their gum and said of the six million killed in nazi Germany, "It's an exaggeration. I hardly believe there were even that many Jews alive back then." Who knew it was all just a very elaborate Truman Show-style setup? Oddly enough, the "Prussian Blue" name is in reference to the color of Zyklon B fallout that wasn't used in the German gas chambers that didn't exist. When asked in an interview what they feel is the most important social issue facing the white race right now, they answered: "Not having enough white babies born to replace ourselves and generally not having good quality white people being born." (Federline could not be reached for comment.)

The twins' mom April is sort of like a neo-nazi pageant mom, who home-schools the girls and writes a super-informative articles for sundry white power rags. While she preaches a big game and seems to think of herself as a battle-ready June Cleaver (she once said she was prepared to "go into battle in armor cutting the heads off my enemies but would be home in time to make a tasty dinner for my man"), she hasn't exactly been the good little Eva Brahn she wants everyone to think she is; she was once arrested for indecent exposure when she rode a horse through the streets of her hometown wearing nothing but a cowboy hat, boots, G-string, bunny tail, and a pair of bumper stickers slapped across her breasts for some ridiculous radio station promotion. Uh-oh, that sounds like bad values to me!

But the vanguard didn't mind because the Gaedes are now considered bigwigs for "the movement." Interestingly (or not), the girls got their start thanks to William Pierce, the guy who wrote that book that inspired Timothy McVey to torpedo a fertilizer-filled U-Haul into the Oklahoma City federal building. And who wouldn't want their kids being mentored by the founder of the American Nazi Party? What he saw in the girls besides superb aryan-ness remains to be seen, but with Pierce's support, they learned to "play" instruments and screetch out songs and started winning the mini-Hilters over. The twins sing mostly cover songs, but they have recently started expermenting with writing their own material; Lamb collaborated on a folksy ballad cleverly titled "The Lamb Near The Lane" with David Lane, a neo-nazi terrorist currently serving 190 years in prison for racketeering and civil rights violations. Cool!

I'm sticking with my policy to not link to assy hate sites, but for research purposes, I checked out a couple of their songs. They are styled like your everyday singer/songwriter tripe, and the lyrics tackle what I'm guessing are all the big topics for the white supremicist of today: freedom, valhalla, victory, holy wars, shit like that. Oh, and Lynx and Lamb? They're completely tone deaf. You could almost, ALMOST feel a teeny little bit sorry for the little twerps. Until you remember what you're listening to. Lamb, who seems to be the more proactive of the two, wrote a little ditty all by herself called "Sacrifice" and it's all about her interesting views on heroics. From the mouths of babes:

"Sacrifice, they gave their lives, all those men who have died. Sacrifice, they gave their lives, all those men who have died.

Warrior poet, I sing his songs. Ian Stuart, with his voice so strong. Remember his words, as we sing along.

Rudolph Hess, man of Peace. He wouldn't give up and he wouldn't cease, to give his loyalty to our Cause. Remember him and give a pause.

Robert Matthews knew the Truth. He knew what he had to do. He set an example with Courage so bold. We'll never let that fire grow cold.

Dr. Pierce, a man so wise, helped so many of us open our eyes, and see the future for what it could be: a future for our Race’s eternity." [Caps theirs. FYI, I looked a couple of these guys up—Ian Stuart is a founding member of some nazi punk band and Robert Matthews was a white nationalist killed in a shootout with NYC cops.]

Sadly, judging by their songwriting and April's advice columns, the depths of their writing knows no bounds and the Gaedes love to inundate everyone with wordy missives about how no one understands them and how the media makes them look like assholes. They also have about 249 horribly-penned blogs, including one "written" by their toddler sister (guess what her name is—Dresden!), and one for their family ranch, where they include pics of them marking their cattle with SWASTIKA BRANDS. Holy shit. Don't you have to register that stuff with some kind of livestock commission? Who approved that? Anyway, here's my favorite part, and I had to post a picture of it because there's no way you would believe me. It's a FUCKING HITLER SNOWMAN, complete with stick arm giving the "sieg heil" salute. What the holy living fuck?? This whole family needs to take some serious chill pills.

Does the Count know about these two? Because they might make him change his mind about scampering off to the Norwegian wood to live a life of solitude upon his release—suddenly, he'll be all "COLLABORATION!" and lobby to be their Svengali-style manager. Anyone who says something like "We're proud of being white, we want to keep being white … we don't want to just be, you know, a big muddle" seems like they'd be a girl after the Count's own heart.

If you'd care to read more about these two dingdongs, GQ has run a good article which is reproduced in its' entirety here. I just had to do a post on this because it's hard to believe they are even real. Please tell me this is all a dream!



Dear RockitQueen,

Some big things have happened this week. Iran made progress in UN sanctions, British PM Tony Blair announced that he will resign within a year, and the world lost beloved conservationist and TV personality Steve Irwin. Now, I'm just a baby so maybe I don't understand how things work in the world. I mean, I chew on my own feet for god sakes. But I gotta tell you, I'm not so naive I can't at least realize that these stories are kind of newsworthy. I simply can't comprehend why my first trip outdoors is newsworthy, other than the fact that it's MY FIRST TRIP OUTDOORS IN FOUR MONTHS.

That's fucking crazy, is it not? Apparently, it's another one of Tom's Scientology things—he's afraid that I'm going to be tainted by the outside world or some such shit. Dude, I can't even hold my own head up. The most traumatizing thing that happens to me on a daily basis is that I'm spending a good part of the day marinating in my own waste. So what does he do on my first trip out into the world? He sticks me in front of a camera and makes some shady deal to get me on the cover of one of the country's most popular magazines? I don't think I have to tell you that I've already booked a one-way ticket to Dysfunction Junction.

I also probably don't have to tell you that it's no fun having a camera shoved in your face when Tom Cruise is around. He lives for that shit. As soon as the lens cap comes off, that Chiclet-tooth smile lights up and then the laughing starts. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Loud, brazen, never-ending laughter. Now imagine he's holding you and hoisting you up in the air and doing that blowing-on-your-tummy-to-make-a-fart-noise thing—well, it's horrifying when that shit's right up in your face.

As for Mommy, the Fischer-Price Baby Activity Center hanging on my crib has more going on, if you know what I'm saying. The 926,457th time she says, "I'm so happy! Tom is the most amazing man I've ever met! I'm so happy!" you kinda start to think that maybe the Scientology CDs she's been listening to have been skipping or something. Don't get me wrong, I've still got hope for her, but the robo-babe routine is getting old fast.

So, to sum up: everything blows. Again, I'm not asking for pity—just some understanding. And a binky. Is it too much to ask to get a fucking binky?? You can't tell me that's another Scientology no-no. It's total fucking bullshit!

Until next time—and if you see Granny and Gramps Holmes, tell them "the eagle has flown". They'll know what I mean.

Your friend,
Suri Holmes Cruise


Fun with mascots!

Yesterday was a big day in Cowtown, as it was opening day for Buckeye football season. If you don't live here, the only way I can describe this to you is, from now on it's like March in Cabo San Lucas every single weekend. With 10 times the violence and 50 times the mace. The Buckeyes win and everyone sets their own couches on fire in the middle of the street. The Buckeyes lose and you may find your car resting on it's roof the morning after. In other words, it doesn't matter what the result of the game is—if it's football Saturday, your life and property are in imminent danger.

While I don't give a shit one way or another about OSU sports, I do rather enjoy the mascot: Brutus Buckeye. He's got a giant, poisonous nut for a head! And he can do a headstand and spell out O-H-I-O with his legs, which is completely awesome.

I find mascots in general endlessly fascinating and entertaining. Check out that picture above—that's not a furries convention. This was taken at the induction ceremony for the Mascot Hall of Fame. You heard me. If you think that's crazy talk, check this out: the campaign to end violence against mascots (I think it's supposed to actually be serious). Come on, now! Violence against mascots is usually the best part of the whole sports experience, including the actual game. If someone sunk a full-court hail mary shot during the same game that a mascot fell down while trying to lead the crowd in an en masse chicken dance, the first thing I'd tell my friends later is "Slider wiped out!"

Really bad mascots are also amusing. I thought it might be fun to try to find the dumbest and most inexplicable and give out awards to the worst offenders. Feel free to cast your own votes; there's got to be more wonderfully horrendous ones out there that I overlooked.

• Least Intimidating •
-"Lil' Red" (University of Nebraska–Lincoln), an inflatable Campbell's Soup Kid in red overalls
-Violets (New York University), a purple transformer-looking thing
-"Otto the Orange" (Syracuse), literally an orange with arms and legs, wearing a baseball cap
-"Scrappy" (University of Tennessee-Chattanooga), a mockingbird wearing a train-conductor's outfit (get it? Chattanooga Choo-Choo?)
-"Sebastian the Ibis" (University of Miami), a duck wearing a sailor hat
WINNER: "WuShock" (Wichita State University), an anthropomorphic "shock" of wheat. This thing could sweep a couple other awards including Worst Name and Worst Costume. Look at it! It's a yellow Muppet of Alec Baldwin with a fucking wheat grass skirt and wheat sprouting out of his big ridiculous head. What exactly is this mascot going to do to scare the opponent? Wave in the wind? Turn into rice? Get run over by a tractor?

• Geekiest •
-Student Princes (Heidelberg College)
-Poets (Whittier College), a colonial guy with a book and a pen
-Penmen (Southern New Hampshire University)
WINNER: Vulcans (California University of Pennsylvania) Trekkies always win out in the geek department. Imagine the catcalls at those games: "Nerve pinch the Vulcans!"

• Dumbest "Fighting" Mascot •
-Fighting Okra (Delta State University); this nickname was given to the team from fans bored with the "Statesmen" mascot
-Fighting Artichokes (Scottsdale CC)
-Battling Bishops (Ohio Wesleyan)
-Fighting Missionaries (Whitman College)
-Fighting Gobblers (Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University)
WINNER: Fighting Banana Slugs (University of California—Santa Cruz) Can you fight AND be a slug?

• Most Ridiculous Animal Mascot •
-"Petey the Stormy Petrel" (Oglethorpe University); it's a seabird...I didn't know either
-Varmits (Southern Arkansas University Tech)
-Super Bees (University of Baltimore)
WINNER: Geoducks (Evergreen State College), a type of clam which, supposedly, doesn't clamp shut when danger appears

• Weirdest •
-Vixens (Sweet Briar College) , the mascot of an all-girls christian college
-"Thresher" (Bethel College), a threshing stone, whatever that is
-Lord Jeffs (Amherst); named after the guy who exercised germ warfare against Native Americans by giving them blankets coated with smallpox
-Blue Hose (Presbyterian College), formerly the Blue Stockings; basically now the Blue Pantyhose
WINNER: "Gompei" (Worcester Polytechnic Institute), the bronzed head of a dead goat. Maybe they could put wheels on it and race it against the ram's head snuff mull.

• Worst Name •
-Ichabods (Washburn University); this school is not in New York, so I have no idea what this name means
-"Knightro" (University of Central Florida), the golden knight
-Claim Jumpers (Columbia College-Hollywood)
-Lumberjills (Northland College), counterpart to the men's teams' LumberJACKS. Ha!
WINNER: Nads (Rhode Island School of Design); the cheerleaders are nicknamed the "Jockstraps" because they support the Nads—criminy

• Dumbest Costume •
-"Keggy the Keg" (Dartmouth), an unofficial mascot that irritates the living crap out of people on the HOME bench
-"Puckman" (Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute), a stupid walking hockey puck
–"The Troll" (Trinity Christian College), named for TRinity cOLLege (lame), this dumpy ogre represents a school that operates under the slogan "Momentum for Life"
WINNER: "The Stanford Tree" (Stanford University), a dancing pine tree that looks more like a melting garbage bag with a Gacy-like, clownish smiley face. This makes you wish California would go a little lax with the logging regulations.

So who are the best mascots? Well, Freddie and Freida Falcon (Bowling Green State University), of course...I'm biased; that's my alma mater. I also think the Michigan State Spartan costume is frigging hilarious. But the very best mascots in the whole wide world aren't college mascots at all—it's the Racing Sausages! Representing the Milwaukee Brewers baseball club, the Hot Dog, Polish Sausage, Italian Sausage, and German Bratwurst, and with their gigantic heads and stereotypical appearances (leiterhosen!), compete in a race during the seventh inning stretch of each home game. The Sausages made headlines a couple of years ago when one of the players tapped the Polish Sausage as he was running by and sent him (and the chick inside the costume) sprawling across the field, taking the Italian Sausage down with him. Everyone got all upset about it and, to my delight, the footage was run over and over on the news—it's hilarious! OK, OK, the chick didn't get hurt or anything, and in fact she thought it was funny, so it's OK for us to laugh. Sadly, I couldn't find the footage of this wipeout, but I found this footage, which is just as hilarious. Encased meats with little arms and legs flailing—does it get any better?


The VMAs: God, I feel old

Sitting here watching the MTV Video Music Awards, not only to I hate pretty much everything that's played but I have no fucking idea who 80 percent of these people are. And I don't even recognize the people I DO know. For example, when did Jordan Catalano become a sad little goth?

Anyway, I love nothing more than to make fun of awards shows, and the VMAs always provide the best fodder. Let's see if I can make it through the ceremony without putting my foot through the TV. I'll try, so I can provide my usual important observations.

• First off, who are these douchebags in the audience? Enough with the "WHOOO!" and the blatant misuse of the devil horn hand gesture ("The All-American Rejects" do, in fact, NOT rock and do not deserve the horns). I want these people tasered immediately.

• Christina Aguilara's husband must have the biggest penis in the whole world.

• Someone needs to put a stop to James Blunt. Not only does his music make kittens weep, he's also excruciatingly unattractive.

• Unfortunately, Jessica Simpson seems to have gotten her voice back. And she still can't read. By the way, I love that now that Ashlee has gotten a nose job and is quickly becoming "the hot one," her family ships her off to London to star on-stage in "Chicago". Get out of the country, you little mistake! Daddy needs some "alone time" with Jess.

• I'm going to have to do a fangirl post on "Jackass". I love "Jackass". I can't wait for the new "Jackass" movie.

• Who is this "Shawn White" person? He looks like Carrot Top and I don't like it.

• Ringtone of the Year? Are you kidding? And Fort Minor? Who the frig is that? And why in the world did he go on and on and on and on and on and on? For winning Ringtone of the Year?

• Sometimes I think I'm the only person in the world that hates Sarah Silverman. But I can't bring myself to hate Justin Timberlake and I don't know why. Maybe because he's bringing sexy back. And because he dumped Britney.

• Which brings me to Britney. My god. Just when I think it can't get any worse, it does—and it's thrilling! Tonight's appearance with her lovely hubby was reminicent of the Clampetts rollin' into Nu Yawrk Sittay trying to look purty for the pavarottis. Oh, but wait, it seems like they weren't REALLY in the Big Apple, but rather via satellite. Which is probably a good thing. Remember Brit's last trip to NYC?

• Thank god for OK Go, because they were the only thing about this whole debacle that didn't make me want to run into oncoming traffic. Oh, and Jack White! He was playing with The Raconteurs throughout the ceremony. He's still one of my boyfriends. And the drummer and bass player are from The Greenhornes—OK, so maybe I do know some of these people.

So for all you young kids, I bet you'll be suitably impressed when I tell you that I went to the VMAs the year they had all those guys dressed up as Eminem walk in. Remember that? I believe it was in 2001. Pretty cool, huh? OK, I didn't actually GO...I just stood outside. And when I say "outside" I mean like three blocks away. Pretty much the only thing I saw was a horrible performance from Linkin Park on the marquee of Radio City Music Hall. It totally blew. So, not so cool.

Well, I guess that means I am getting old, because things sure ain't like they used to be. Remember when Duff and Slash staggered onstage shitfaced to accept an award and it was this big huge deal that Slash said "fuck"? Gone are those days, my friend. Now it's de rigour. As are making weed and orgy jokes and saying "make some noise"! Maybe they should have some kind of a contest for a lucky MTV viewer: that person gets a nickel everytime someone says that, "how y'all doin' tonight", "give it up for [shitty performer or presenter]", or describes something as "amazing". And they get $100,000 if they don't fall asleep.