“I’ve Been Workin’ on the [Babe Magnet] All the Live Long Day…”

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Identical twin brothers Haney and Russ “Harpo” d’Coqueville have come up with an innovative way to save gas by making sure that their ride don’t roll while they transform it into the Babe Magnet they always dreamed of. I can’t identify the model exactly, but it looks like a 1977 Ford POS to me.

Although they aren’t in their official Babe Hunting Garb, Russ and Haney believe they can pull it off (the Babe Magnet transformation, I mean). Russ’ carpentry toolbelt and framing hammer is a not-so-subtle give-away that the finished Babe Magnet will definitely be a work of sump’m, with or without windows.

Film at 11.

[Lost track of this image source, too, and prolly for good reason.]

Post Box Post

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R2D2 takes your mail and sends it to a galaxy far far away. Then he leaves a nice little pile of scatological droid humor on the sidewalk.

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Yeah, I get it. Anorexic Fe-mailbox. I bet the owner cracks himself up every day except Sundays and holidays.

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I’ll admit this is clever, even though it’s kinda, you know, um, wrong… whether it’s outgoing mail or incoming.  Still just wrong.

[More boxes can be found here.]

Don’ gimme none dat JibbaJabba, son. I ain’t no April Foo, Foo.

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“Ah calt fo FersClass ONLY. You not FersClass. We not takin’ no SekkaClass or ThirClass scum lack you. Git you butt back doodah Stahbux Lan, Foo.”

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Good God. Here’s how to train your offspring to avoid a nasty confrontation with Mr. T. Get your infant used to him early with this crib mobile. By the time your tad turns two, if he/she gets outta line, all you gotta say is, “I ain’t takin’ no mo’ Jibba Jabba!” and he/she will understand immediately and go straight to nap time, in the driveway gravel if necessary.

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Just in case you didn’t know, Mr. T don’ take no poop from nobody in any language, except for maybe Chuck Norris. Chuck doesn’t take it from anybody either, except for maybe Mr. T.

Finicky Penguin helps you decide for yourselves with his awesome collections here and here. Don’t forget here.

The Ignosecond

The Ignosecond is roughly defined as the time between the moment one does something inherently stupid and the moment one realizes that it’s too late to stop the results of that action.

Example: You exit your car, lock the car door and swing it shut; immediately before the car door latches you realize that your keys are still in the ignition. That minuscule span of time is called the Ignosecond.

Underrated comedian Rich Hall coined the term “Sniglet” for something that ought to have a word to describe it but doesn’t. “Ignosecond” is such a word.

Because of the instantaneous nature of the Ignosecond, it’s very difficult to capture the image precisely when it occurs, so some of these images below are actually “Pre-Igno” and/or “Post-Igno.”

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Although this “Post-Ignosecond” was staged, this happened to a college buddy who grabbed the “Head & Shoulders” shampoo instead of the toothpaste.

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True ignosecond. The dog lived, but was never quite the same. His stance widened considerably, but other than that was fine, and earned the nickname “LowBrow.”

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Post ignosecond for this dog who learned that he can’t herd boars.

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True ignosecond. Both riders suddenly realized why bikers wear leather.

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True ignosecond.

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Pre-ignosecond has passed. Post-ignosecond coming up.

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Pre-ignosecond. The guy on the left is about to try to scare the bear. Then he’ll experience the nasty end of the ignosecond.

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Post ignosecond: “…and then when the beer spilled I dropped my cigareet onto my lap and that’s when I hit the ‘celerator instead of the brakes! Thank God it’s your wife’s car!” [True story from here via Arbroath.]

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IGNOSECOND TRIFECTA! All three had their own ignoseconds caught on tape (four including the cameraman).

Years ago when Bunk was a lil’ tad, Momma Strutts accidentally locked the keys to the Ford Country Squire IN the Ford Country Squire, in the AGC grocery store parking lot. She called my father to bring the extra key. That’s when the ignosecond struck. While waiting for Papa Strutts to show up, I found that one of the rear passenger doors was still unlocked. Momma was not stupid; she deftly opened the door, and without saying anything, pushed the lock button down and shut it. I’ve always admired her for that.

[Images from [Insert Witty Title] and AmyOops.]

TGIF: The .gif Friday Post 25 – “Whoa!! Chopperman Is Back! Spin, Chopperman! Spin!” (And a small tribute to Arthur C. Clark.)

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And he NEVER gets tired. Check back in on him in an hour. You’ll see.
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Arthur C. Clark apparently never got tired either. RIP to one of the founders of the Science Fiction/Fact genre.

LOL Roads Without Captions – yet

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[Images via email from here. You go girl.]

Bunk’s Anatomy

Feline Anatomy
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Equine Anatomy
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Canine Anatomy
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Brown’s Anatomy

Flintstone’s Anatomy

Boop’s Anatomy

[1st three images via Hanuman. 2nd three from here via SNTC.]

[UPDATE: The last three are the work of Michael Paulus.]

Hello. I am Mr. Google.

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You might get me confused with Mr. Yahoo. He’s in a cubicle next floor down. I am Mr. Google, but unlike he, I run this entire penthouse suite by myself.

I am everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I am also a verb, and a very good one. Have you ever heard someone ask a question, and heard the response, “Go Yahoo it?” I didn’t think so.

I am Mr. Google, and I am a household word. If your child sneezes, do you instruct him to go “Kleenex” it? Of course not. But if little Tommy or Suzy wants to know whose grandmother once advised being obsequious, purple and clairvoyant, do you say, “Go Dictionary it?” or “Go Encyclopedia it?” No you don’t. You tell them to Google it, because you understand that I know everything and everyone that you don’t, and you avoid the embarrassment of displaying your own intellectual shortcomings to your young gullible prodigies.

Then you whine, “But Mr. Google, I can say, ‘I’m going to Xerox this report,’ right?” Oh how quaint. You might as well say, “I’m going to make a carbon copy of my typing errors.”

Because I am Mr. Google, I have complete control over your offspring. My half-brother, Mr. YouTube, assists me with this easy task. When your little darlings are busy with internet research for their report on eukaryotic organisms due on Tuesday, Mr. YouTube assists them with the latest “OKGO” video as soon as you leave the room.

My sister, Wikipedia, helps out as well. She lies.

Do not trifle with me; I am Mr. Google.

[Image from here.]

Saturday Matinee: I Want A Gnu

Great song, great ukelele… Unfortunately, the music’s in him, and it’s just screamin’ to get out of the room without waking up his parents. (‘Sokay, bro, I can’t sing and play at the same time either.)

“Have You Ever Seen Lorraine?” Here she is, twitchin’ and bitchin’ to the Ramones’ version.

But THIS is the link that set me off. The Original Creedence Clearwater Survival version, found at Casual Slack.

The .Gif Friday Post No. 24 – Weirdos & Cursor

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Was this an inspiration for the late great Ed “Big Daddy” Roth‘s “Weirdos?” We may never know. So here’s a bonus:

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This was done by the same guy that did this one, here. As always, we like to credit original sources when we can. If anyone has a link to the original image or .gif creator, we’ll give ’em the thumbs up theirs and post the linkoids in technicolor.