Tuesday, February 28, 2006

It's the last day of Black History Month '06 (arguably the best yet), so I thought I'd share with you my Black History Month bit, first performed EXACTLY one year ago at Soho Tea and Coffee in Washington, D.C. There was a black couple sitting in the front row that night. I noticed them as I walked on to the stage, and I especially noticed how the husband did not clap when the host announced my name (it is customary for an audience to applaud a comedian coming to the stage). I admired the man's stoicism and the way he rested his head on his right hand as if to say, "Don't even think about getting racial up in here." But if you've ever seen me perform, you know that I don't bother with little things like sizing up the crowd or playing to the room, so I went full steam ahead, leading with the Black History Month joke. And the response from the prominently-situated black couple? Rousing. The man laughed particularly hard and even clapped a little. It was at that very moment that I decided I would no longer confine my celebration of black history to the twenty-eight days in February. Take a look at the Rogowsky calendar - every month is Black History Month.

In elementary school, Black History Month was a really big production, wasn't it? The classrooms were full of posters, there were parades up and down the halls, the fifth grade put on Rosa Parks: The Musical! But when you get to high school, no one gives a shit. Black History Month is condensed into the first five minutes of February 1st:

"Ok, here's the deal. Harriet Tubman freed the slaves, George Washington Carver invented the peanut, MLK had a dream, and O.J. didn't do it. Any questions? Moooving onto Algebra..."



P.S. Another e-mail was sent to Mr. Tapley. I am eagerly awaiting his reply!

Monday, February 27, 2006

STOP THE PRESSES!

I am POST-poning my Norway post (get it?) to bring you genuine hilarity, in e-mail form. Dilligent readers may be aware of my recent fascination with TAPLEY ENTERTAINMENT, a company offering the services of celebrity impersonators and look-a-likes for corporate functions or private parties. My intrigue lies not only with the disturbing nature of the impersonator lifestyle but also with the staggering potential for humor provided by the look-a-like industry. Itching to explore that potential, I sent the following e-mail to Tapley Entertainment yesterday, and I received a response earlier today from the President/Founder/likely sole employee of the company, David Tapley. Getting an e-mail from the president of a company is... well, there are few words to describe it, although "remoulade" and "Sasquatch" come to mind (he always does). I appreciate Mr. Tapley's quick and poignant reply, and I look forward to contacting the man again in the very near future.



To: info@talentbookingusa.com
Sent: Sunday, February 26, 2006 12:15 PM
Subject: In need of celebrity impersonators

Dear Sir or Madam at TAPLEY ENTERTAINMENT,

I was making preparations for my son's Bar Mitzvah party when I came across your company's webpage offering the services of celebrity impersonators. I am very impressed with your large selection of look-a-likes who, from their pictures and descriptions, seem like world-class talents! I also enjoy the layout of your website (easy to navigate, excellent choice of blue color).

The theme of the party is "Irony," and I must say, it has been a most difficult theme to plan. That is, until I discovered your company! I believe your impersonators and look-a-likes will be of great help to me in pulling of the perfect Bar Mitzvah for my son. The party's theme demands the services of the following impersonators in your employ: Pope Benedict XVI, Santa Claus, and Archie Bunker. Your website offers two Pope Benedict impersonators - it would be best if you sent both (after all, what says "irony" better than two popes? LOL!!!).

There are certain celebrity look-a-likes that would be essential to the party's theme, but unfortunately I do not see them listed on your website (maybe they have not yet been added to the site?). The celebrities in question are Jeremy Irons and Adolf Hitler. It would be very important for the Jeremy Irons impersonator to wear a large nametag that says, "Hello, my name is JEREMY IRONS" and written underneath in parentheses, "(How ironic!!!)." I would also request that your Adolf Hitler impersonator resemble the famed dictator in appearance and voice only, and not in personality.

Note: In the event your Hitler look-a-like is not available for the party (weekend of August 12-13), I would accept your Jeremy Irons look-a-like, dressed in full Gestapo uniform, as a suitable substitute (who will be able to tell the difference, really?). If necessary, I can provide extra swastika armbands.

My son and I are very excited to book your impersonators for his irony-themed party. Together with the Nation of Islam Boys Choir and a BBQ pork rib and shrimp buffet, your celebrity look-a-likes will make this the best Bar Mitzvah ever!

Sincerely,

T. Guy Minetti
Renegade Carpentry, Minetti & Associates
207 E. 33nd Street
Baltimore, MD 21218

P.S. Please respond post haste with price quotes and availabilities for your impersonators. August is closer than it seems!



From: Dave Tapley
Sent: Monday, February 27, 2006 10:51 AM
To: "T. Guy Minetti"
Subject: Re: In need of celebrity impersonators

You must be kidding

Sunday, February 26, 2006

The fourth in a six part series...

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On a note far more personal than automated AIM spamming, my profile view count is up to 280! Because I am clueless as to the acquisition/implementation of tracking tools, the profile view count is the most sophisticated method of site traffic analysis at my disposal. I think it means that since starting the blog in January, 280 distinct people have viewed my blog profile, which is absolutely amazing, considering I only know three people (not counting John Cusack). Thank you to all who have been reading my writing and viewing my complete profile, but please don't give up now - help spread the word about my words! The Teejster has already done her part, and she has earned herself this "shout out," accordingly. If you have friends (with or without benefits), tell them about FunListDenmark! If you have coworkers (with or without benefits), why not let them in on the secret too! If you or someone you know has been injured in an automobile accident, don't get all fussy about it - read a little FunList! With your help, I will reach my projected goal of 300 profile views by the year 2018, at which point The Apiary will HAVE to notice!

Tomorrow you will find a post either titled, "Norwegian Morning Wood" or "Abbot and Costello Meet The Wizard of Oslo." It will either be about my weekend cruise to Norway or the feel-good presidency of William Henry Harrison. Stay tuned!

Friday, February 24, 2006

In a few hours, I set sail for Oslo, Norway. I have been promised cruising, boozing, and Norwegian substance absusing... and by Norwegian substances, of course I mean SMOKED SALMON! HELLOOOO!

Take care of the kids while I'm gone. I'll bring you back a snow globe.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

In the course of Google-image searching for a sexy Selleck picture to include in yesterday's post (here is another one...grrrowl), I came across a website offering the servics of celebrity look-a-likes and impersonators. I knew these people existed - people who, by the grace of the Lord and Savior, were born with featues identical to those of our favorite actors and musicians - but I had no idea these impersonators could make a living from their predicament, nor did I imagine that a company called Tapley Entertainment had culled America's best look-a-likes together under one booking agency and made them available for corporate and private events. What a concept! But I have some questions for David Tapley (President/Founder), questions not addressed in the website's FAQ section. Mr. Tapley, if you would please...

For some of the biggest celebrities, you have multiple look-a-likes. Do you ever let, say, your four Elton John's duke it out for the title of Supreme Elton? And wouldn't that be a title no one would ever want to have?

You mention that your Paris Hilton impersonator not only look like Paris Hilton, but has also captured the performer's voice and mannerisms as well. Does that mean she will go down on me at my great-grandmother's funeral?

Your John Travolta look-a-likes are impressive, but for my next bachelor part I'm going to need a Travolta circa Battlefield Earth. Anything?

Is it true that your Tiger Woods impersonator is none other than Lucy Liu in black-face?

How in the world did you manage to find a Santa Claus look-a-like?!?

When a celebrity dies, does that celebrity's impersonator feel it a bit more than the rest of us?

And along those same lines...
Don'tcha think your Benjamin Franklin impersonator is a little... too soon?

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

MOON OVER MILANO, a title by Scott Rogowsky

“Could this be the flight?”

It’s the question I have asked myself upon boarding every airplane I have ever flown. Although the question has remained the same, the reasons behind my anxiety have changed over the years. When I was younger and more impressed by the Gameboy in my hand than the 747 under my feet, the query was, “Could this be the flight… that I beat the final boss in Kirby’s Dreamland?” As a teenager obsessed with death and gripped with an unhealthy fear of flying (a condition I partly attribute to certain Alanis Morissette lyrics), the thought became, “Could this be the flight… that the left-wing engine fails just after take-off, inducing a turbulent nosedive towards my fiery doom?” But only recently in my mature and wizened twenties have I begun contemplating a far more significant notion, specifically, “Could this be the flight… that I bang a stewardess in the bathroom?” If I can just establish that lingering eye contact as I board, strike up flirtatious small talk when she comes around with the beverage cart, and then politely request her assistance in the lavatory, under the pretense of restocking paper towels…


Sadly, my flight to Milan from Copenhagen last Thursday was not “the flight,” although it was quite comfortable and, thanks to the concentrated efforts of Alitalia’s interior designers, shockingly green. Jeff and I had planned an extended weekend in northern Italy centered round the Winter Olympics in Torino to which we had bought tickets for the USA men’s ice hockey match versus Slovakia. It was our first foray outside of Denmark (not counting a day-trip to Malmö, Sweden spent wading through knee-deep snow in search of Swedish fish and/or meatballs), and we were looking forward to the warmer climes and cheapo wines. I had always thought my first trip to Italy would be as part of a deluxe, fully escorted tour led by Mario Perillo himself, but Mr. Perillo passed away in 2003, and Jeff’s dad was providing us with accommodations at one of the nicest hotels in Milan. Eh, I'll deal.

Friday was devoted to sightseeing in Milan, and see sights we did. Il Duomo di Milano is likely the city’s best-known structure and just the kind of thing that gets art history teachers wet in the pants. The greatest example of Gothicarchitecture in Italy, blah blah blah, Renaissance. Having fought our way through the throngs of Asian tourists (they’re small, but feisty), Jeff and I got our first peek inside the cathedral and made quick work of its sanctity, singing our favorite Hanukkah songs while seated on the pews. For a 6 Euro fee, we took “Schindler’s Lift” (see picture) to the roof of the Basilica where, in 1805, Napoleon Bonaparte established "Slick Willy's World of Entertainment," Europe's first restaurant/adult arcade. Exploring the 700-year history of the cathedral was a truly awesome experience, and getting in a game of laser tag was an added bonus indeed. But my greatest satisfaction upon leaving the Duomo comes from knowing that I am the first person ever to recite the Dreidel Song within its holy confines.

The next stop on our walking tour was the convent of the Santa Maria delle Grazie whose refectory houses Leonardo Da Vinci’s refrigerator magnet-inspiring masterpiece, The Last Supper. The mural conveys such powerful emotion to the point that I actually felt sorry for Jesus (and coming from a Jew, that means something). But after carefully studying the piece in its original, intimate surroundings, I had a revelation as to the true intentions of the artist. It gave me this idea to write a book about the mysterious Da Vinci and his encoded artwork, blurring the lines between history and fiction. Of course I’ll have to punch it up with a war between humans and the race of self-aware robots they created, and maybe a subplot about a down-and-out football coach looking to win more than just the big game. So far, all I have is the working title, “The Bus That Couldn’t Slow Down.”


A heavy fog greeted us Saturday morning as we boarded the train to Torino, the host city of the twentieth Winter Olympiad.While Jeff slept, I gazed out the window onto the Italian countryside, silently recalling my family’s proud Olympic heritage. My great-grandfather had represented Lithuania in the 1936 Berlin summer games, finishing last in the 100 meter three-legged dash (he forever blamed his partner, Ivan “The Terrible Three-Legged Racer” Slavcz), and in 1972 my father was discharged from the US Olympic Swim Team after attempting to shave off teammate Mark Spitz’s moustache during a heated game of truth or dare. Now, in Torino 2006, I was prepared to sabotage the Austrian biathletes and take my place among the Rogowsky greats.

From the moment we stepped off the train, we were surrounded by hopeful Olympic spectators. For those of you unfamiliarwith the atmosphere of a large-scale international athletic competition, it can only be explained as people coming together from all over the world determined to answer the question, “How can I best show support for my country while looking like a complete douchenozzle?” The Dutch responded with bright orange jumpsuits. The Swiss countered with comically large stovepipe hats. Not to be outdone by their European comrades, the Latvians displayed garish hockey jerseys and gratuitous face paint, and caused much ruckus with their state-sponsored Fife and Drum Corps. I wore an umbrella on my head. USA!!!

The most impressive sight in Torino was the Olympic Superstore, proudly sponsored by Visa (it should be noted, this blog is shamefully sponsored by Mastercard). The makeshift retail center was loaded to the ceiling with Olympic crap, all the best crappity crap one would expect from a merchandised mega-event (t-shirts, caps, posters) and many items that I’m convinced some goofball in marketing came up with as a joke but got mixed in with the real product order sheets anyway. I’m talking about the officially-licensed automatic wine bottle opener, the logo lip balm (only 7 Euros!), and the Torino 2006 necktie, to name just a few. I imagine the poor Sri Lankan who spent all his savings on airfare to support his nation’s 2-man bobsled team, only to get sucked into buying worthless souvenirs: “I slave away in the phosphate mines for twenty-five years, working to provide food for my family… Now I come to the Olympics with only pennies in my pocket, but I must have this Torino necktie! I don’t even own a collared shirt, but I must have it! I MUST! Look, it’s officially-licensed, and it has such pretty stripes!”

The hockey game was thrilling, but unfortunately the Slovaks got the best of our American boys. Although we lost the game, I've found solace in the realization that we are still winning the War on Terror, and isn’t that what really counts? Hockey fans will appreciate my meet and greets with New York Rangers GM Glen Sather and NHL Hall of Famer Lou “Sweet Lou from the Soo” Nanne who were in attendance. My mother will appreciate the looks I was getting from a pair of attractive, young Slovakian girls during the second period (I guess you’re right Mom, I am handsome).

I learned much from my Italian immersion. Milano is more than just distinctive cookies; it’s a whole city full of people and buildings and cars, but not the kind of cars you’re used to. Milan might be the only place in the world where Ferraris out number Honda Civics 13 to 0 (that ratio based on my seeing thirteen Ferraris and zero Honda Civics). Milan might also be the only place in the world where you can unwittingly buy a $10 glass of orange juice and be absolutely furious about it! For a $1.78 a sip, it better cure my rosacea.

Assholes will tell you that Milan is the fashion capital of Planet Earth. Bigger assholes will tell you that America usually lags 6 months behind the hottest European trends. But after just a few days in town, I managed to score the scoop on the future of fashion, and as your foreign correspondent I feel it my obligation to share with you the news: Sources close to Versace are abuzz over the designer’s spring collection of Ninja Turtle-themed pajamas, and after a personal encounter with a Gucci sales clerk who spotted me in my umbrella hat on the Via Monte Napoleone, I can tell you that rain-repellent headwear will be all the rage come April.

Enough can’t be said about the delights of Italian cuisine. But Wikipedia does a decent job.

Another thing: Magnum, P.I. is HUGE in Italy, and Tom Selleck is celebrated twice yearly (on the equinoxes) by rural villagers. In fact, Mr. Baseball is required viewing for school children in the seventh grade.

With my first extended trip in the books, I have already planned several promising European excursions. This weekend I am booze cruising to Oslo, and the weekend after will be devoted to Amsterdam. I also have a three-week break with scheduled visits to only the important cities in Germany, Austria, Hungary, and Switzerland. Sure, there will be many opportunities to see famous buildings, sample international food and drink, and shave the eyebrows off homeless people, but I’m most looking forward to the air travel. Ohhhh, stewardess?


An edited version of this article will appear in the February 23rd issue of The Johns Hopkins News-Letter.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

So instead of posting about Milan/Olympics, I watched Spies Like Us with Jeff. Oh that Chevy Chase, how he manages to get mixed up in hilarious hijinx while remaining the ultimate ladies' man, I'll just never know!

Expect the big one tomorrow, I promise.

In the meantime, you can look/laugh at this picture of my Nordic Mythology professor, seen here celebrating Cinco de Mayo, 1993:


Today, he mentioned that he is currently enmeshed in the investigation of a missing $100,000 USD from his department's budget for which he, as the director of the department, is solely responsible. He doesn't know where the money went, and understandably, he is rather distraught. Being the assiduous student and all-around good guy that I am, I came up with a list of possibile explanations for the missing budget dollars that I dutifully shared with the prof after class.

Where the $100,000 may have gone...

- a life-size model replica of the Valkyries in Swarovski crystal
- First Class airfare to Valhalla, with an extended layover in Las Vegas
- custom-fitted, gold-plated Remington Beard & Moustache Trimmer
- a signed First Edition copy of Odin's "101 Magic Tricks to Impress Your Friends and Family"
- collection of sweaters actually worn by Bill Cosby in Jell-O pudding pops commercials circa 1987, with certificates of authenticity

...aaaaand Doctor.

Monday, February 20, 2006

You know that feeling you get when you really want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, so you toast two pieces of bread, grab the peanut butter, and search the fridge for the jelly... only to discover that you have no jelly, and therefore, no peanut butter and jelly sandwich? I just experienced that feeling. I fuckin' hate that feeling.

I'm back in Copenhagen and I'm completely exhausted. A massive post with details of the weekend will soon follow.

Arrivederci.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Jeff and I leave today for Milano, Italia, the former Cookie Capital of Europe (an honor now bestowed upon Mini Milano), where we are setting up camp for our Olympic Adventure. We have tickets to Saturday's men's ice hockey match-up, USA v. Slovakia, in Torino, and we've decided to make a long weekend of it. For the next few days, I'll be at the mercy of Internet cafés, so don't expect much in the way of updates. In the meantime, why don't you petition something to keep busy! There are so many hateful things to take a stance against, I don't know where to start - racism in the media, parking restrictions, or Burlington Coat Factory (I knew they were more than great coats, but I didn't know how much more).

Take it easy everybody, but take it.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Today provided me with another opportunity to use my "Survival Danish." While walking to the Metro in Nørreport, I was mugged at knifepoint by a disgruntled youth, but I managed to escape bodily harm after repeating the question, "Hvor bor du i Danmark?" ("Where in Denmark do you live?"). Last week I survived a four-alarm apartment blaze because I chanted, "Jeg læser politik" (I study politics), and I've been told that in the event of a terrorist attack, my chances of survival will depend on how well I can enunciate the phrase, "Jeg vil gerne have et stykke wienerbrød" ("I would like to have a piece of Danish pastry").

PUERTO RICAN WATCH - Day 26. It's been twenty-six days since I've seen a Puerto Rican.

And it's been exactly one month since I've last been on stage - January 15 at Like2Laugh's Sunday Soiree. That show went pretty well, and I was glad to leave New York in a good comedic state of mind. I haven't found much of a stand-up scene in Copenhagen, and I don't know how well the humor will translate on the odd chance I do come across an open mic. But I'm itching to perform again, so I guess the next best option is posting my routine for all you blog enthusiasts to enjoy. Here's my wacky take on iPods - read it now before iPods stop being funny... too late.

(Note: You may have seen the SNL iPod parodies - micro, pequeno, invisa. But I'll have you know - that episode aired on Nov. 19, 2005, while my iPod material debuted at the JHU Fall Festival Variety Show on October 3, and I've got the home video to prove it. BOOM!)

I got the iPod nano for Hanukkah. Yeah it was cool, I got the nano... and then, I ate it. I don't know how it happened, really... I was sitting on the couch watching the game, and it must've gotten into the bowl of Tostitos. And it's funny, because I didn't even realize until I farted "Since You've Been Gone."

So I had to go to the Apple Store to get a new one. That place is crazy - they've got iPods and iMacs with iTunes... the guy helping me out, his name was Vinny. Whattya know, they've got iTalians too.

We've all got to feel bad for the iPod, folks. Let's face it - the iPod is suffering from a severe image disorder, and who is to blame? We are, the American consumer. What happened - the first iPod comes out, and it's amazing! It plays 20,000 songs, you can put it in your pocket, and those little white headphones give birth to a whole new cool (sorry Miles). And what do we say, "Yeah iPod, you're pretty amazing, but look at you - you're a fuckin' cow! I can't take you out in public!" So a couple of months later, the Mini arrives, and she's like, "Hey, check me out - I'm a little smaller now, I can still play play a lot of songs, you can put me on your arm and we can go jogging together! And I come in all these pretty colors!" Our response: "Yeeeeah, you're still a little chunky there Mini, still a little chunky." So now we've got the nano, the Mary-Kate of iPods. She's barely making it, folks. Shivering, losing her hair, "Am I good enough yet? I just want you to like me!" It's sad, it's really sad.

The nano is still too big for my taste. I'm just gonna wait until the iPod Urethra comes out. Just plug that guy into your dick-hole, and you're good to go.


------------------ AND THAT'S THE iPOD BIT!!! Good riddance.

In case you were wondering, my Valentine's Day culminated with me sitting alone in the common kitchen at 1:30 AM, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and watching free televised porn. I'm not complaining.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

SEX!
Now that I have your attention, Happy Valentine's Day!

Attention grabbers through history:

"Free Beer! Now that I have your attention, here's what's wrong with the Catholic church..." - Martin Luther's 95 theses
"Blowjobs! Now that we have your attention, we hold these truths to be self-evident..." - Declaration of Independence
"Aborted Fetuses! Now that I have your attention, here are some pictures of aborted fetuses!" - Roe v. Wade protester

Monday, February 13, 2006

To those concerned about my previous post, I beg of you, please take my comments with a box of kosher salt. Denmark is not sucky at all. It is a magical place of unicorns and whole milk! You want proof? Here are some fascinating facts about the country that puts the "Scandanavia" in "fun!"

Did you know...
- In Danish, pineapples are called "ananas," while bananas are called "ineapples!"
- The height of the Danish people directly correlates to the hours of sunlight in the day. During the winter months, Danes will shrink to a point in late December when their average height is 4 feet 6 inches. As the days grow longer, so do the Danes until the summer solstice in June when some may reach a maximum height of 8 feet 1 and one half inches.
- Denmark's anti-immigration stance and xenophobic government policies have created an atmosphere of latent hostility towards the country's sizable Muslim minority!
- It is nearly impossible to be convicted of date rape in a Danish court of law!

A picture can say a thousand words, but these need only say three: "Denmark equals Funmark!"



Hot Tilbuds! Danes like their hot dogs like they like their women. They have a peculiar way of loading the dogs into their buns - notice the meat plunged directly into the roll like jelly into a jelly donut. This unique method of hot dogging results in a protruding nub that uncomofortably resembles a dachshund's penis. Ashamed of his bestialicious past, Jeff chooses to rip and discard said nub before consumption. Trying to keep it kosher? You're not going to find any Hebrew Nattys in Copenhagen, but that doesn't mean you can't get Jewed out of your money (30 kroner for a Bacon Dog? That's like 8 bucks Canadian!)

Luxury Taxis! Sharing a border with Germany has its pros and cons (for a list of cons, search Wikipedia for "Krauts Gone Wild"), but one tremendous benefit is the relatively low cost of Benzes and Beemers that allows everyone in Copenhagen to cab it with style. Check out this taxi stand outside a gay bookstore in Kongens Nytorv - and no, it's not even the Ritz Carlton of gay bookstores, if that's what you were thinking! While German cars can be had on the cheap, foreign imports are a luxury reserved for only the wealthiest of citizens, explaining why the Crown Prince of Denmark drives a 1982 Chevy Nova.

Beautiful Women! I've blogged about them at length, but now you can see for yourself! I found these two lovelies scavenging for food scraps in an alley behind a fancy restaurant, and I knew immediately I had to post their photographs on the internet. After promises of acting work, I lured them into my windowless van where they posed bottomless with life-size wax figures of famous U.S. presidents (later photoshopped out). Mom, they're not jewish but very nice.

Beautiful Women Wearing Animals! Thanks to the creature crusades of Pamela Lee Anderson Pamela and her PETA pals, American females refrain from rocking the fur the way they used to (for most of the 1900s). But the message didn't make it across the ocean, because these Danish girls loves them some mink... and fox, and rabbit, and what's that animal with the funny ears and whiskers? Notice the legs dangling from this woman's neck - part of me says that's a huge turn on, but another part of me wishes the animals would come alive a la the opening scene of Ghostbusters II. I ain't afraid of no ghosts, but I am afraid of Virginia Wolf and her scarves made of wolves.

Friendly Bald People! In America, a bald man means trouble. He'll cuss you out and cut you down, and he certainly won't let you borrow a quarter for the bus ride home. But those stereotypes don't apply in the Land of the Living! These elderly Danes let me into their homes (I later clawed my way into their hearts) and treated me and Jeff to a never-ending pasta bowl complete with free refills on the libations. It's a good thing they consider Christina to be their granddaughter, or the whole evening would have most awkward and slightly illegal.

Sunday, February 12, 2006

You may have noticed that recent posts have had absolutely nothing to do with my being in Denmark. You wanna know why? Because Denmark sucks! It’s boring! They should’ve just called it ‘Densuck,’ or better yet, ‘Suckmark.’ You don’t believe me? Check out what the gurus at NBC are saying about Denmark’s chances in the Winter Olympiad:

"Denmark is not expected to contend for a medal in Torino. It will have a team in women's curling, in which Denmark took silver in 1998, but performances at the past three world championships (10th, 8th, 8th) don't portend a podium finish."

No portent of a podium finish! Ha! Way to go, Suckmark.

Meanwhile, back in the good ol' US and A, Vice President Dick Cheney shot a guy. Ok ok, listen up comedians. Here's how we're going to handle this one - nobody make a joke. Seriously, not a one. It's too easy, it's just too easy, and it won't be half as funny as the mere fact that Vice President Dick Cheney shot a guy. I know it will take a lot of restraint, especially in this day and age of The Onion and The Daily Show and The Capitol Steps, but you've got to try your damnedest to pull off the ultimate joke - making no jokes at all! You've joked the fuck outta Hurricane Katrina and Tom Cruise and Brokeback Mountain, and we've all heard the one about Michael Jackson (what was that guy thinking?!?!?). But if we all stand together, be you an alt-comic blogger, a late night television writer, a VH1 personality, or Carlos Mencia, and say, "We understand that Vice President Dick Cheney shot a guy, and we need not say or write anything more about it," then we will have truly scored the biggest comedy points at a time when the entire nation is ready to judge us. I see an appreciative perfect 10 from the Red States, an ironic perfect 10 from the Blue States, and a confident perfect 10 from Big Dick himself who will be quietly counting his blessings, relieved that nobody made a joke about the fact that he shot a guy...

That, or we all egg his house.

Either way, Dick Cheney, the yokes on you!

Saturday, February 11, 2006

Looking back at today’s posts, I realize I should have titled them “FUN WITH CANNIBALISM!” There is just something intrinsically funny about humans eating humans. Haven’t you seen the 1991 laugh riot “Silence of the Lambs” (if not, go out and rent it for a non-stop chucklefest). Maybe it’s because I’m reading about the ancient Aztec civilization in my Environmental History of Europe class, but I’ve found myself overflowing with cannibal jokes! Hey, what do you think caused the demise of the Aztecs anyway? Could it have been the Anti-Cannibalistic Missile Treaty? HAHA! There I go again!

Have you seen Wendy's new slogan: Wendy's - Do what tastes right. If that's not an endorsement of cannibalism, then I don't know what is! Do what tastes right, huh? Well if that's the case, forget the Bacon Mushroom Melt - I'll have Wendy, with a large Frosty to wash down those pigtails.

Eulogizing my mother in a cannibalistic society...

"You always used to ask, 'What am I, chopped liver?' Well today I can proudly answer, 'Yes Mom, yes you are.' Enjoy the spread everybody!"

Friday, February 10, 2006

OH MY MARBLES - IT'S THE WINTER OLYMPICS!!!!

Kenya is represented by two African-looking dudes. Makes sense, I guess. But if I were the head of the Kenyan Winter Olympic Committee, I woulda just sent a pack of cheetahs to Torino. It's not as if the Kenyan athletes have a chance at a medal anyway. AND NOW - KENYA! (cue the release of cheetahs) MY GOD! CHEETAHS! AND THEY'RE GOING AFTER TEAM KAZAKHSTAN! And I'd be sitting in my office in Nairobi, laughing out loud and sipping on rhino urine. Laughing, laughing... sipping.

Yoko Ono is making an incoherent speech about peace and imagination. She's wearing dark sunglasses, but it's night time! There's no sun when it's night time! Explain yourself, woman! How many times do you think she has had to start off a sentence with, "As my late husband John Lennon used to say..." That must've gotten annoying after the fifth time. If I were her, I would use the annoying factor to my advantage, to make life more annoying for everyone else. So if I'm at a dinner party, and someone spills red wine on the new carpet, I'd tell him, "As my late husband John Lennon used to say, 'Soak the stain in club soda and dab with a paper towel.'" And later at the dinner party, when the pan roasted pheasant is served, I'd remark, "As my late husband John Lennon used to say, 'Game birds are best prepared smoked over apple wood chips.'" And then after the dinner party, in the pool house bathroom with the young Peruvian butler, I'd assert, "As my late husband John Lennon would say, 'Get a load of that uncircumcised penis!'"

And get a load of this nonsense on the TV - Peter Gabriel is singing Lennon's forgotten body surfing anthem, "Imagine." Kind of an inappropriate tune for the opening ceremonies of the Winter Olympics, dontcha think? "Imagine there's no countries..." If there were no countries, there wouldn't be any Winter Olympics, or any international athletic competitions for that matter. If I were Peter Gabriel, I'd ditch the bullshit cover and bust into a ripping "Sledgehammer." That'll tear the partial roof off this semi-enclosed stadium!

The moral of this post: If I were other people, I'd do a lot of crazy things.
The mushroom of this post: Morel.

Thursday, February 09, 2006

Cupiddler on the Roof

Look out! February the 14th is fast approaching, that special time of the year that separates the happy lovers from the lonely masturbators. If you are a responsible boyfriend, you're no doubt already busy in preparation of the romantic day, ie., registering for that couples-only paintball tournament. For those of us in the latter category, however, any hope of avoiding another Valentine's Day spent in a crippled state of depression and self-loathing is quickly fading. That is unless you pull yourself together, pull up your pants, and sample a batch of Uncle Scotty's mind-bending, patent-pending, never-ending PUNCH-UP LINES!

Having spent the first 17 years of my life as a female, I am considered a most trusted authority on the psychology of women. I know what girls want, and I know where to find it on The Internet. So believe me when I tell you that girls like a guy with a sense of humor, a guy who can tell a good, wholesome joke. They also like a man with confidence, a man who doesn't think twice about using a provocative pick-up line. It should be duly noted that some girls like being peed on. Armed with this inside information on "the menstrual gender," I've created a sure-fire method to securing a significant other by combining the power of a good punchline with the allure of a smooth pick-up line... PUNCH-UP LINES!

PUNCH-UP LINES!

Here's how it works: Go to a place of public congregation (a tavern, or a science museum), approach a sexy lady with something in your hand (a beer, or a fancy kaleidoscope), and say, “A Priest and a Rabbi walk into a bar. Wanna fuck?”

THEY’RE FUN!
Father Tomato, Mother Tomato, and Baby Tomato were taking a walk. Baby Tomato kept falling behind. Just as I thought, “Made in Heaven.”

THEY’RE EASY!
What’s the best time to go to the dentist? ‘Cause you’re the only ten I see!

THEY’RE REVERSABLE!
Did you clean your pants with Windex? One of them was assaulted.

THEY’RE PUNCH-UP LINES! And they are ready for export to foreign markets. Try mine today, or make up your own: How many blondes does it take to screw in a light bulb? No soap, radio!

Just in time for Valentine’s Day – PUNCH-UP LINES! And you can tell ‘em Uncle Scotty sent ya!

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

According to The Internet, Chuck Norris can do many extraordinary things. According to The Digital Short, the young Chuck Norris used his hands and his feet. I cannot tell you how the aging film and television star has captured the cultural zeitgeist (my guess, he baited a venus flytrap with a pirated DVD of Brokeback Mountain), but I can do my part by jumping on to the Chuckwagon (Chuck Norris bandwagon). The following is a list of more amazing true facts about the martial arts expert and erstwhile actor, compiled with the help of Señor Detecto and his tireless investigation:

- Chuck Norris once ate 4 hot dogs in one sitting.
- Chuck Norris has smoked in an airplane lavatory.
- Chuck Norris routinely takes more than 8 Tylenol Gelcaps in 24 hours without consulting a physician.
- Chuck Norris knows Vanilla Ice by his real name, Robert Van Winkle.
- Chuck Norris once went one and a half days without urinating.
- Chuck Norris isn't afraid to order a Shirley Temple.
- When Chuck Norris drops his kippah, he doesn't bother kissing it before putting it back on his head.
- Chuck Norris stands shiva.
- Chuck Norris does not backup his hard drive, even though he's read that he should.
- Chuck Norris supports a flat tax.
- Chuck Norris likes his pasta al dente.
- When instant messaging, Chuck Norris uses WAWAHAHAHA rather than LOL to express laughter.
- Chuck Norris knows how to play the intro to Stairway to Heaven on the guitar.
- Chuck Norris tips 14 percent, and waiters still thank him.
- Chuck Norris does not toilet paper the seat.
- Chuck Norris ejaculates during lap dances.
- Chuck Norris has 195 friends on The Facebook.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

I'm sitting in the common room watching Beverly Hills 90210 without commericals. Thank you Europe! I never watched the show when it originally aired - too busy burning Kurt Rambis basketball cards in the backyard. But from what I can tell, the series revolves around a group of rich high school students getting in and out of trouble and falling in and out of love while providing valuable commentary on important teen issues from marijuana smoking to South African apartheid. In tonight's episode, Tori Spelling looks slutty, Luke Perry looks bored and annoyed, and Brian Austin Green looks pretty... pretty gay! There are also several black men sporting backwards Kangol hats and at least one mention of a "party meister."

Some memorable quotes:

- "Journalism, terrorism... what's the difference?"
- "So in other words, Kelly's a snob?"
- "Believe me - with that one, I thought I was gonna pee my pants!"
- "I don't want to make fun of people, I want to make people laugh."
- "You think so, huh?"
- "Women are having babies well into their 40s these days."
- "Am I crazy, or did I just let Steve Sanders run this joint?"

Monday, February 06, 2006

"Last Night," a photo essay

Watched the Super Duper Bowl at The Happy Pig with native Danes, transplanted Americans, and thankfully without any Native Americans (they can be obnoxious). The commentary and commericals were British, but check out the score of the game - seems America won again! Take that, Redcoats! In this picture, I can be seen celebrating the Edmonton Oilers' victory in the 1984 Stanley Cup Finals. It's my way of high-sticking it to the man.

Chatted with the blog's biggest fan at the bar. Her name is TJ and she studies religion at Elon University in North Carolina. Use Google to find out more. That's her in the corner making a face. TJ, this 'Berg's for you.






















Wrote inappropriate messages in the fresh midnight snow. You can't go wrong with PEN15, or can you? Discuss.

Rode the early morning Metro with this dude from the Côte D'Ivoire (Africa's New Jersey). He offered to give us some of his paintings of famous black people in exchange for a small donation. We are not exactly sure which charity our donation will go to benefit, but Alan plans to write it off regardless. I was just happy to pose with another moustache.

Stopped at the bakery for a fresh outta the oven pastry circa 5 AM. Sampling the chocolate custard roll prompted Jeff to exclaim, "There's a party in my mouth, and everyone's invited, except Guy Volcom."






















Disappointed to realize that I missed Puppy Bowl II. Denmark has a lot to offer, but puppies battling it out for gridiron glory, sadly, it does not.

Saturday, February 04, 2006

"Groundhog's Day Celebration More Steelers Pep Rally Than Celebration of Groundhog"

That would be a great headline for The Onion. Hey Todd Hanson, you reading this? I met you at the Midnight Pajama Jam that Eugene Mirman guest-hosted. Anyway, I'll be finished with college after next year, and it would be awesome if I could get a job writing for your satirical newspaper. I've been a fan since that first desktop calendar I got for my birthday, and I even started my own humor periodical in high school modeled after your own. You can get back to me whenever. I'll be... I'll be here.

I'm sorry the rest of you had to witness that pathetic, desperate attempt at post-graduation employment. I am pathetic and desperate, and when I make attempts, they're bound to come across that way.

But seriously, take a look at those pics from Gobbler's Knob and tell me that Punxsutawney Phil wasn't "overshadowed" by Steelers fanaticism! And take a look at that last sentence and tell me you didn't get my well-placed pun! To recap, Phil saw his shadow so it's six more weeks of mild winter weather. But none of that hoodoo voodoo prognosticating marmot bullshit applies here in Denmark. The Danes have a much more legitimate system to predict the future - refusing to apologize for the publication of offensive cartoons in a major newspaper means six more weeks of race riots in Copenhagen. Don't put away those bulletproof vests just yet!

That last joke might have been lost on some of you who have not been keeping up with BBC World News. Here's the scoop - back in September, a series of caricatures of the Prophet Mohammed were published anonymously in the popular Danish daily Jyllands-Posten. Turned out to be a big-time faux pas as Danish Muslims took serious offense to seeing a printed image of their prophet. Recently, the author of the drawings was revealed to be a Danish guy and the cartoons were reprinted in newspapers across Europe, so now Muslims the world over are rallying together in opposition of the Danish government which has refused to apologize for the newspaper's actions. Saudi Arabia and Libya pulled their diplomats from Copenhagen, Arab nations are boycotting Danish goods, and the burning of American and Israeli flags has temporarily ceased to make way for a Danish conflagaration in the streets of the West Bank. As Bang Bang observed, this is probably the best time to be an American abroad. "If the Arabs start attacking, just say, 'No no, I'm from America! You want that Danish guy over there... yeah over there, hiding in the phone booth. That guy."

So the Muslims are mad. They're protesting and throwing things and burning embassies. Making matters worse, the conservatives and skinheads in Denmark are counter-protesting the Muslims, further inciting violence. My problem now is, I don't know who to root for. It's like when the Cowboys play the Redskins, but in this match-up, there is no America's Team.

You want my take on this whole scandal? Probably not. All I'm going to say is, I've seen the cartoons, and they're not even that humorous. If the caricatures had been funnier, I'm sure the Muslim community would have been cracking up too much to care. It's like all those Nazi propaganda posters with the fat, hook-nosed Jews holding bags of money and looking sinister - funny is funny, and sometimes you just gotta laugh it off.

Friday, February 03, 2006

Thank the Nordic gods it's Fredag!

This morning I had a Danish omelette for breakfast. It is very similar to our Western omelette, except replace the ham with horse meat and replace the eggs with marshmallow fluff.

I sat next to a Chinaman today. While waiting for the start of class, I engaged him in conversation. I had many questions, he being the first native Chinese person I had ever encountered in such an intimate setting. What did he think of the Chairman? Had he ever stood in front of a tank? Who was General Tsao? Why don't they serve key lime pie at Chinese restaurants? Had he ever gone pee pee in my Coke? His answers left me rather unsatisfied.

History professors can't enjoy anything. My Environmental History prof disliked the wildly popular The Da Vinci Code because it was riddled with factual errors, and my Nordic Mythology prof could not enjoy the blockbuster smash King Arthur because of a few historical inaccuracies. They say teaching is a noble profession, but if it means acknowledging a flawed premise in The Mummy Returns, then the nobles can have it.

We started an emo band in the kollegium called "Grandma Died on Your Birthday" (because nothing is sadder than grandma dying on your birthday). Jeff plays the shoehorn, I'm on the accordion folder, and Christina, with her many years experience, takes solos on the skin flute.

The American hip-hop group Black-Eyed Peas are very popular among the Danes, much more so than the actual edible bean of the same name. Those of us stateside know that their politcally-incorrect party anthem "Let's Get Retarded" was deemed too offensive for the American music market, so the lyrics were revised to become "Let's Get it Started." But in Denmark, sensitivity towards the mentally-challenged is rarely, if ever, considered, and the original version of the song can be heard in dancehalls and music clubs throughout Copenhagen. Denmark's haha-you're-handicapped attitude can also explain why "Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle" is known here as "American High... Let's Get Retarded!" and why "I am Sam" translates into "Me, Re-Re."

Here are some notes I took in today's Global Business Srategy class:

- rent "Coyote Ugly"
- research the Kyoto Protocol
- invite world leaders to watch "Coyote Ugly" and discuss the Kyoto Protocol, call it the Kyoto Ugly Accords
- bring Jamaican beef patties to Denmark ($$$!!!)
- invent cars that run on bird flu
- get peanut butter and jelly - in the same jar!
- plan CEOs and Corporate Hos party

Thursday, February 02, 2006

The Krazy Krizzles Krew


Top (L to R): Samboy, Steier, Warren J; Bottom (L to R): Joey, Shames, Xtina


L to R: Bang Bang, Man Eddie, S. Rogo, King James, Xtina, Wylie, Samberg


Almost two weeks into our program, Jeff and I have found ourselves in good company thanks to our supernatural friend-making abilities and a bit of luck in the housing selection. It seems as though all the cool Americans live in our kollegium, so from that first night of DIS-sponsored pizza-eating, we've been sticking together like food to my beard. I've decided to profile the members of the Krew for the reader's benefit (that's you - you're a reader), and for my illiterate friends who scroll through the blog and periodically break into gratuitous laugher so as not to give away their disability, I have included the above visual aids. My apologies to those not pictured, but it was your decision to become vampires.

Samboy - My Maine man, Sammy keeps it gangsta at GW in that nation's capital and Netto Fabulous at KU in this nation's capital where he quite literally coined the Krizzle. He specializes in dropping American slang on unsuspecting Danish sales clerks, especially when snagging a hotass Tilbud at Slevens. His motto: Biggie Smalls was, is, and forever will be the illest.

Xtina - This arctic fox waterproofed her Uggs, and that's all Jeff needed to know before he started taking them off. Now she spends more time in our room then her own; Jeff takes advantage of her body while I take advantage of her mind, using her Danish fluency to translate my yogurt containers. Her motto: Hhhello cold!

Bang Bang - We sat next to this Loyola lad at kollegium orientation and knew right off the bat that it he was gonna be chummy. He's fat and he's funny (I think it's a cause and effect thing), and he owns the streets of Copenhagen after 5 AM (yet he can't find a size 58 blazer). His motto: In Denmark, laundry does you.

Steier and Shames - Childhood friends reunited in Copenhagen, theirs is a story made for community access tv. They are holding down the West Coast in Western Europe, and together with me, Jeff, and Samberg maintain half a minyan. His motto: C's get degrees. Her motto: Jet lag is the worst lag.

King James - He lives with a host family so we see him sparingly, but when he's rolling with the Krew he provides valuable commentary. Whether it's ice falling from the roof ("That's dangerous") or a conversation about The Simpsons ("That's funny"), the King knows to say what we're all thinking. Also, he mistakenly exchanged all his American dollars into Swedish kroner. Oh James, what will he do next? His motto: Where were you guys?

The Wildcats - Hailing from Villanova and Arizona, Ryan, Ryan, and Ian have similar names and school mascots. They dress to impress and travel in a trio, be they hittin' the bars or the soccer ball. Their motto: Rock the cash baaaa.

Brandon and Shaira - Hey, I went to camp with that kid! That's right, Brandon and I have a history that carbon dates back to whacky Mah-Kee-Nac in the Berkshires. Shaira and I have a history in my dreams where we have been married 6 years and are raising the next Larry David in our Park Slope duplex. Their motto: Amsterdam anyone?

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

When it comes to welfare services, Denmark is the Land of Good 'n Plenty (not to be confused with the Land of Mike and Ike - that's Canada's Manitoba province). Education, health care, childcare, care for the elderly, and officially-licensed Care Bears merchandise are almost entirely financed and provided by the public sector. We're talking free doctor visits, free vocational training, free abortions! To participate in all these freebies, you need a proof of residency number that can be obtained at the local kommune. Jeff and I headed down there today, and we found it to be a lot less scary than it's spelled. The major decision of the day was picking a doctor to serve me in my time of need, should I need a time to be served. Glancing over the list of medical professionals in my town of Amager, I was dismayed to find Dr. Huxtable absent. The women helping me suggested I pick the doctor closest to my residence, but I'm Denmark, so I went with the klausest, Dr. Klaus Klausmussen. I hear he's a good doctor, and thorough.

The whole doctor-picking episode inspired Jeff and me to compile a list of doctors we wished were available to us:

Dr. Sam Beckett
Dr. Emmett Brown
Dr. Demento
Dr. Doolittle
Dr. Doom
Dr. Dre
Dr. Evil
Doc “Moonlight” Graham
Dr. Hibbert
Doc Holiday
Doc Hollywood
Dr. Jekyll
Dr. Mario
Doc Martens
Dr. Moreau
Dr. No
Dr. Nick
Doc Ock
Dr. Pepper
Dr. Scholl
Dr. Strangelove
Dr. Who
Dr. Zaius
Dr. Zhivago
Dr. Zoidberg

Jeff and I found these sweaters on the H&M clearance rack and instantly fell in love with their reindeer pattern and reduced price (marked down by 70%). We showcased them on a recent day of classes, pretending we didn't know each other and acting quite surprised and embarassed at the coincidence. Jeff is going to wear his to company Christmas parties for the next 45 years; I plan to burn mine and snort the ashes.