D’oh! My dreams have come true — I will soon be able to drink overpriced beer at Moe’s Tavern and buy Hellboy comics at The Android’s Dungeon in Springfield. Universal Studios is building a Simpsons theme park in Orlando, Florida, that will include working versions of:
* Krusty Burger
* Lard Lad Donuts
* Moe’s Tavern (!)
* The Frying Dutchman, and
* Luigi’s Pizza
Most of all, I am looking forward to the new “intergalactic spinning” ride called Kang & Kodos’ Twirl N’ Hurl, which will (hopefully) send me ***twirling, twirling, twirling towards freedom.
Twirling sold separately.
***Note: You must be a profound Simpsons nerd to get this joke. If you didn’t laugh, congratulate yourself on what must be a rich and interesting social life.
Kodos: They do realize that boarding the Twirl N’ Hurl will send them into an alternate slave dimension, right?
Kang: Hush, sister. Just keep smiling harmlessly. The humans will be giving us tentacle rubs in no time! Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!!
Tentacle jokes: They never get old.
Ghost hunters beware! You may get more than you bargained for while trying to catch a ghost on tape.
An Australian ghost buff recently set up cameras in his kitchen, hoping to catch some paranormal activity on film. When he reviewed the tape, there was lots of moaning and wailing going on. Unfortunately for him, it was not the spooky kind. Instead, he found footage of his 16-year-old son having sex with the man’s 28-year-old girlfriend.
There were no scary skeletons involved, but someone was definitely getting boned. Har! Tip your waitstaff. I’ll be here all week…
Ghost sex: On the plus side, they’re always stiff. On the downside, it’s hell getting ectoplasm out of the sheets.
I went to my first paranormal convention last weekend, and it was — to use some deep-fried Southern parlance — a hoot. Tons of cheesy new age psychics/fortune tellers abounded. The most hilarious booth (called something idiotic like Angelic Dolphin Crystal Channeling) featured a giant poster of a dolphin leaping over a rainbow using badly Photoshopped eagle wings. I could have literally created something more realistic with PaintShop Pro. Using my feet.
There were numerous paranormal groups there. The good folks from Paranologies.com had a table of customized ghost-hunting equipment. Really cool stuff, such as this Phono-Pod:
And this item, which I assume to be some sort of Steampunk Ghost Calculator:
I don’t know what it does but I still want it.
There was also, inexplicably, a booth selling homemade jerky. Tasty but hardly paranormal. Unless it was haunted jerky. Or possibly undead jerky?
Side Note: “Undead Jerky” is Tan Mom’s stripper name.
A BIG shout-out to FOB/artist extraordinaire/incredible cook Judy Lawson, the newest member to sign up to follow No Faint Hearts in Fort Worth.
When my Dad was in hospice care, the lovely Ms. Judy volunteered to make a variety of his favorite dishes for me to take to him for dinner since his appetite was waning. (Her fried chicken is AMAZING – he got pretty obsessive about it. It was that good.) She also made incredible dinners for myself and my family since she knew how busy/crazy tired we were at the time.
I also made you several bad-ass batches of fried chicken. You’re welcome.
Twitter recently verified a Twitter account for Sasquatch, which they only do for actual famous people. So clearly he exists. Case closed. Also, the big guy is apparently shilling for a jerky company. (Sellout.)
You can follow him at @mesasquatch. He tweets a lot about squirrels. And how best to eat them. Good times.
Posting selfies with other celebs is so tacky.
I did more research on the previous story that indicates that the Bigfoot species (if it exists) may have originated from sexy times between a super-hairy primate and a human woman, AKA the plot of every Ron Jeremy movie ever.
Many cultures have legends about a Yeti-like creature — from the Abominable Snowman of the Himalayas to the Australian Yowie to the Sasquatch of North America. Russia has a particularly unusual version called the Almas. (Note: In the Mongolian language, Almas is singular. The plural is Alamases or Almasty.) Unlike the giant primate descriptions we usually hear about Bigfoot (7-feet-tall, covered with fur, easily tricked by idiots waving Slim Jims), Almases were described as human height, covered with light reddish hair and having Neanderthal-like facial features. Sightings date back to 1430, and there have been persistent rumors that the Red Army captured a male Almas in 1941 but – as he was unable to speak – shot him as a spy. (The Red Army Motto: Proudly shooting anything that moves since 1917.)
However, the most famous/documented Almas captive in Russian history is undoubtedly Zana, a female Almas purportedly captured in the 1850s near the Black Sea in the USSR. She was brought to the village of T’khina and initially kept in chains. As the years passed, she became somewhat domesticated and was taught to perform simple tasks. Inordinately strong, she could hoist a heavy bag of flour with one hand, to the amazement of the villagers.
This is supposedly an artist’s rendering of Zana. It might be Khloe Kardashian. There’s really no way to tell.
Apparently, Siberian winters are INCREDIBLY LONELY because several of the braver (and presumably desperately horny) male villagers got Zana pregnant. Repeatedly. In all, she was reported to have borne six children who, while hairier than normal, looked otherwise human. The first two died when she washed them in an icy spring. The village women intervened with her next four pregnancies, taking the newborns away from Zana immediately after birth and raising them as their own. These births are recorded in the local census. This is her son Khwit:
Khwit: Either half-Almas or every cab driver I’ve ever had.
Cryptozoologists are still really obsessed with this story and many have tried to find Zana’s grave, with no success. However, they did exhume poor Khwit up there and supposedly his skull displayed a number of anomalies consistent with some kind of hybridization.
Basically Zana was the only “documented” Bigfoot mom in history.
And with that, I wish you all a very Happy Mother’s Day!
Okay, so far the blog’s been about ghosts, secret tunnels, Bigfoot and Star Wars. Everything but Fort Worth, right? Allow me to rectify this situation.
The best cocktail available in Fort Worth is, hands down, the fabulous Mambo Taxi from Mi Cocina. It tastes like margarita, sangria and a little bit of heaven all swirled into one glass of frosty goodness. There’s also a version called the Mambo Limousine but that’s just a Mambo Taxi in a bigger glass. Trust me, you’re going to want to go with the Taxi. These things are potent. Mi Cocina also has amazing salsa, but I digress.
Behold, the King of Cowtown Cocktails: the magnificent Mambo Taxi.
I think it’s called a Mambo Taxi because you have to call a cab if you drink more than two.
Kang: That was only moderately funny at best.