Humor – Page 374 – Tacky Raccoons

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.”

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

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.”

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

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

True ignosecond.

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

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.

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.]

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.]

Saturday Matinee: Hanky Panky

Okeydokey, they’re my favorites again for a few minutes. The 5678’s with Hanky Panky (careful with your speakers, it’s loud).

Tommy James and the Shondells’ version with invisible drums. His baby does the hanky panky, too, but she doesn’t move much (you can turn your speakers back up for this one).

Regarding the Original Version:

This was originally released as the B-side of a 1963 single by the Raindrops, “That Boy John.” The Raindrops were composers Jeff Barry and Ellie Greenwich. Shortly after the release of the Raindrops’ version, 13-year-old Tommy Jackson, who would become Tommy James, slipped into a club in South Bend, Indiana and listened to a local band, the Spinners (not the hitmakers of the ’70s) play this. After hearing the song drive the crowd wild, Jackson wanted to record it for his second single (he had released one locally the previous year). Jackson and his group, The Shondells, recorded the song at a radio station in his hometown of Niles, Michigan.

When Jackson recorded this, he couldn’t remember all the lyrics, so he made up some on the spot.

That explains A LOT. Here’s a photo of The Raindrops (from this glorious site):

Rockin’ hard in 1963. It is intuitively obvious to the casual observer that the babe on the right does the hanky panky, the one on the left says she does, but she really doesn’t, and the guy in the middle does it by himself most of the time. You can download their version here, but only if you really really want to. (I really really didn’t.)

The next best thing, relatively speaking, is from the excellent Tube Number 1. Tico & the Triumphs’ “Cards of Love.” Have at it.

[If that’s not enough, here’s “Shining Boots” courtesy of Finicky Penguin. If you need “Help,” Miss Cellanea will tell you where to go.]

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

And he NEVER gets tired. Check back in on him in an hour. You’ll see.

$fractal3.gif$

Arthur C. Clark apparently never got tired either. RIP to one of the founders of the Science Fiction/Fact genre.

LOL Horse

i b peen n yer poolz 2.

[Undoctored image here.]

Hello. I am Mr. Google.

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

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

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.

Fish Tanks Wash Mediterranean of Insurgents

Malta (Strutts News Services) – According to reliable sources, Allied operations in the Mediterranean Sea have been suspended indefinitely due in large part to the success of the “surge” of armed forces swamping the region. Reports from the depths of the fighting confirm that although insurgent forces resurfaced a few months ago, a flood of countermeasures have restored the area to pre-war conditions.

Speaking on condition of anonymity, M1A1 Armor Crewman Lannie Foosers commented that the surge has been a success. “Basically we broke the supply lines from Latakia to Marseille and flushed out the insurgents’ movements.”

Although asked/baited several times by other media sourCes preseNt, to his iNtegrity, Foosers declined to make a lame pun about donating mobile artillery vehicles in trade for personal recollections in reference to a Bob Hope recording.

Babe Magnet: All Terrain Barracuda

“Don’t hassle me, man, I’m here to replace your toner cartridge. I mean it. Back off already. Look, all the roads are closed, but I got here, okay? So just back off. You gotta buck for gas?”

This is a prime example of the best of the rural Babe Magnet genre, and one of the last of the breed that uses a speedometer as a gas gauge. The owner’s name just has to be “Danny,” but his friends call him “Bo.” Bo added glasspacks, airshocks and oversized rims to this classic muscle car, and jacked it up so he wouldn’t get stuck in three-foot high mud drifts along the levee. Pure efficient genius.

The Babe Magnetage factor is subdued, but if you look closer, it’s there in all its glory. The sub-bumper floodlights, the purple window tinting, the flat black “Smokey’s radar ain’t never gonna reflect this” paint job spells it all out for the Johnson twins, Velveeta and Vivarina.

The double V’s beg for rides to the Reddy-Mart for Slush Puppies and Moon Pies while Bo feigns disinterest. He slaps in an 8-track of Uriah Heep’s Greatest Hits, pops open a warm YooHoo with his thumb, and leaves a rooster tail of crushed rock on his way to his job restocking fan belts at the Sunoco station.

[Image from here.]

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Tommy Makem and the Clancy Brothers sang a version of this. I’d post the song here, except that I lent the CD to a man named Martois a coupla years ago and never got it back. (Hunt him down, my friends, and make him cough it up.)

If you can’t read it proper, here’s the transcription, with Irish slang help from THE Eoin Shalloo, after the break. (Thanks Mr. S.) Continue reading “Happy St. Patrick’s Day!”