No, it doesn’t go to Atkins, this time, but I assure you Martin is pissed that he didn’t think of this first. How about paying $30 to have some loser burnout drive you around Chicago and point at buildings . . . “Uhhh, Al Jourgensen used to eat pizza there . . . that’s where Liz Phair worked at Walgreens . . . that’s uhhhh . . . another building . . .”
I’m sure it’s already extinct (likely a week after its inception) but check this out . . .
No, it doesn’t go to Atkins, this time, but I assure you Martin is pissed that he didn’t think of this first. How about paying $30 to have some loser burnout drive you around Chicago and point at buildings . . . “Uhhh, Al Jourgensen used to eat pizza there . . . that’s where Liz Phair worked at Walgreens . . . that’s uhhhh . . . another building . . .”
I’m sure it’s already extinct (likely a week after its inception) but check this out . . .
Well Martin has his Douchebag Lifetime Achievement Award, so there should be no need for him to get upset over this one loss.
This reminds me of something I did once while on air at Chicago’s WLUW. We had an “audio tour” or “sound walk” of the environs directly around the station, in which I gave people fantastic or just blatantly fake histories associated with mundane stuff like piles of rocks and mailboxes. At the end of the show, I instructed listeners to walk into Lake Michigan where they could find an ‘alien artifact’. Good times!
And the only Chicago rock tour I would go on is one guided by Wesley Willis, but that’s now an impossibility.
Back when my great grandmother was still alive (well into her 90’s) I would sometimes have the duty of going down to San Diego to pick her and my grandmother up from my Aunt’s place down in San Diego.
My great granny would just ask random questions about everything she’d see out the window . . . different buildings and signs and stuff . . .
“What is that over there?”
“That’s a rubber factory. They make tires for large construction vehicles and have specialty government contracts for military applications.”
“What is Las Pulgas?”
“That means ‘the frogs’. That housing village was built on reclaimed marsh land and they have persistent frogs in the area.”
What is . . . .blah blah blah . . . ad infinitum.
My grandmother (my great’s daughter) was so amazed that I seemingly “knew everything” and once said, “Wow, how do you know so much about everything?”
“I don’t know anything, Grandma. I just make all that stuff up. It’s more interesting than saying ‘I don’t know’ and makes for a better 3 hour car ride. Besides, 5 minutes later she’ll forget anyway.”
I think I may have blown my image a bit for her, but now she’s the one with the lost mind, so I’m back to super hero status again in her final days/years.
Oh, Man! There are few things better in life than waking up hung over on a Saturday morning and waking up to check Prongs on my cell phone. I feel like it gives me a reason not to kill myself every day.
Oh, Man! There are few things better in life than waking up hung over on a Saturday morning and waking up to check Prongs on my cell phone. I feel like it gives me a reason not to kill myself every day.
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A 3 hour tour? What could possibly happen?
Haven’t you seen Gilligan’s island?[/reply]
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Facepalm. I’m a little slow this morning. It’s negative something degrees and I just got in from shoveling snow. My brain was semi-frozen.[/reply]
Ha ha ha ha. It’s all good, sir. It’s all good.
