Correspondent Challenge No. 3: Skittles - Deadly or Delicious?

Well Friendly Friends, it's time for round 3 between Pissah & Shamalama. The first two rounds were close but Pissah is down 0-2. Let's see if he comes back strong in round 3.

The Answer given by Pissah:

Choking to death never tasted so sweet!

The Answer given by Shamalama:

Let's step back.... back into time.

The year 1988... Summer... I was a young punk kid with nothing to lose. I bought my first real six-string at the five and dime. That was the Summer of '88.

I liked playing baseball, we wore meat helmets, luge lessons... quite typical really.

What does this have to do with Skittles?

Nothing actually. I just couldn't think of one GOD DAMN REASON NOT TO LOVE THEM!

Just make sure you take them out of the wrapper first. I was hungry, and they were Skittles. Simple mistake. Happens to the best of us, SHUT THE HELL UP!

I must say, I think this was a weak effort on both parts. If you two boys want to be taken seriously, if you want the respect of Friendly Friends everywhere, you will have to put forth a better effort than that! I think you both need to take a little trip. Go visit an old friend...yourselves. He hasn't seen you in a while. He, needs some TLC obviously. Go do some reflection kids. Ask yourself...Am I really a Friendly Friend? Do I have what it takes to push the envelope to the extreme? Are you sexually active? When you have the answers to those questions, then maybe you will be ready to take each other on the way god & nature intended...in tapioca. Have I mad any sense? Exactly. Shamalama wins.

Celebrities that Probably Smell

In this segment we propose that celebrities stink... and how.

Papa... can you... smell me?

It’s double coupon day here at CTPS and I already opened a window. I give you Kris Kristofferson and Barbara Streisand.

At all points of his life Kris struck me as someone I imagined I can smell right off the movie screen. Not a horrible actor or singer but he strikes me as the kind of guy that usually smells like a collosion of wet loose-leaf, home-rolled clove cigarettes and a recently-fired musket. That and his hair reminds me of that stain that poodles get in their fur at their eyes and mouth.

Barbara strikes me as a woman of many strange lotions with the scent signature of a moving van full of old, used retirement home furniture. The imagined smell waxes high when I picture watching Yentil but so far, I haven’t been convicted of shoplifting in Canada, where that is the usual court-ordered punishment. So ffMatt 1, Babs 0.

Together they have hellish synergy enough to scare away sharks on the other side of the globe, a pair of Celebrities… that Probably Smell.

The Definitive 1000

We are going to be counting down the Definitive 1000 things.
Why are they Definitive?
Because The Friendly Friends have deemed them as such.

#997-Funk




The late 60’s and early 70’s was when modern American culture was still in high school, showing erratic behavior and growing new bumps under its clothes. That culture was either in a confusing time or doing exactly what it needed to be doing.

Funk proves it was the latter.

There is hardly a person in the world that can deny the raw power of funk. Wither it resonates quietly in your soul or commands dancing, I will not allow you to deny the legs that funk has. The music and culture had a synergy still felt today; a synergy from the sense of identity, unity and the powerful awareness of what comes naturally to humans: making connections.

Built on African rhythms and blended with raw chunks of chemically-tainted, sweaty libido, no music better invites women to be strong and sexy and men to be more honest then a one-note-groove that moves your hips for you. Almost any rap worth listening to was hung on the funk backbone, exhumed from the sweaty jam-band spectacles of the 70’s long before human franchises like MTV. Human free agency existed as long as Parliament Funkadelic roamed the land sowing satisfied, dehydrated and sometimes sore throngs of funkateers.

To name everyone who subscribed to funk is pointless, suffice it to say that the positivity of funk is sorely missed in the age of self centered, weak-willed thugs content on promoting themselves and disrespecting their funkfathers. There isn’t one thug in all of rap today that would dare front on George Clinton. The industry can’t front on funk either. They wouldn’t dare, as they subsist on taking tiny bites out of great funk beasts for their pathetic sample-based product.

David Bowie, The Talking Heads, and Queen chose funk when “white” bands in the late 70’s and 80’s chose punk and classic rock wasn’t classic yet.

And then there was Prince.

I’d say that you should bow at every chance to Parliament Funkadelic, Brick, Earth Wind a Fire, Sly and the Family Stone, George Duke, The Isley Brothers, The Commodores, Kool and the Gang as well as Marvin Gaye and James Brown. The list goes on.

But the beauty of funk is that it doesn’t ask you to bow down. It asks you to lie down, funkily, and get with the state of funky grace.

Therefore, funk takes its non-weighted place on the Definitive 1000 as the smooth but firm shaper of hooks, looks and culture special to America… but funked by the world.

Quote of the Day

Not to be like other Blogs, but this was just too good!

Halle Berry on getting a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame"

"I cannot tell you how good it feels inside me right now. I wish you all could be inside me right now to know how it feels."

Movies Recast: Godfather Part One, Starring the NJ Devils

THE SCENE: A richly paneled conference room at the Continental Airlines Arena

Claude Julien has just been summoned to a meeting with Lou Lamoriello and Jeff Vanderbeek. Present for this meeting are Lou's capos: Chico Resch, Scott Stevens, Reijo Ruotsalainen, Ken Daneyko and Scott Clemmensen (who had begged Lou for more to do for months now).

Clemmensen: Mr. Vanderbeek, you said the time would come when me and Chico could start our own families. Until today, I never would have thought of it, but now, I must ask your permission.
Vanderbeek: [absentmindedly] Well Lou is the head of the family now. If he gives permission, then you have my blessing.
Lou: After we make the move to Newark, you can get out of under Brodeur's thumb and start your own families.
Clemmensen: How long will that be?
Lou: Who knows? How many more bribes and kickbacks are due the unions over there?
Clemmensen: Forget it, I'll keep sitting on the bench with this stupid hat on.
Lou: There are things being negotiated that will solve all of our problems and answer all of your questions. Claude is no longer my consiglieri coach. He's gonna sell souvenirs in Newark. That's no reflection on Claude. He does have us in first place in the division and second overall in the conference. Besides, if I ever need help, who's a better consiglieri coach than...well...me?
Claude: Lou, uh, why am I out?
Lou: You're not a wartime consiglieri playoff coach. Things may get rough with the move we're trying.
Claude: Maybe I can help.
Lou: You're out, Tom Claude.

Dissolve to practice the following day. Lou is on the ice with his players, oddly he seems to be speaking in Latin.

CUT TO: Clemmensen prepping a machine gun, Chico Resch sharpening a machete, Scott Stevens sharpening his....elbows, Ken Daneyko fingerpainting and Reijo Ruotsalainen buying consonants.

AS the Sabres skate onto the ice for morning practice, Clemmensen levels his machine gun and shoots them all. The Thrashers are holding a team meal at their hotel as Chico puts tainted wheat gluten in the bouillabaisse. The Senators are skating on the Rideau Canal as Scott Stevens singlehandedly concusses each player. The Penguins are having a team meeting...but quickly get sucked in by Daneyko's fingerpaints. They're not heard from until well after the season. And the Rangers disqualify themselves from the postseason by going over cap space signing Ruotsalainen for the playoffs.

BACK in the conference room, Lou is confronted by Mrs. Julien:

Mrs. Julien: Is it true, Lou?
Lou: Don't ask me about my business Mrs. Julien.
Mrs. Julien: Is it true?
Lou: [slams his hand on the desk] Don't ask me about my business!
Mrs. Julien: Oh, no. Oh god no!
Lou: This one time, Mrs. Julien. Just this once. Ask me again.
Mrs. Julien: Did you kill Carlo fire my husband and "detain" those other teams?
Lou: Of course I did.

END SCENE!!!

I smell Oscar. And a lawsuit.

The Definitive 1000

We are going to be counting down the Definitive 1000 things. Why are they Definitive?
Because The Friendly Friends have deemed them as such.


#998 - Angelina Jolie

The Good

I am so confused every time I see Angelina Jolie. Whether I see her in a movie, on a magazine cover, or perhaps as I did last night as the lead story on Extra. I am not certain but I think she was trying to adopt a Panda. Maybe confused isn't the right word. Conflicted may be more accurate. I have not been more sexually aroused by, and at the same time mentally repulsed by anyone since I met Jewbacca!

The Bad

I mean, come on! You are hot! Stop being you! Being the daughter of Midnight Cowboy, she should consider herself lucky in the hotness catagory, but does she have to ruin it by doing anything other than keeping her mouth shut and putting on and taking off her clothes every once in a while? That is all I ask! I am a simple man. I mean, wearing a vial of Billy Bob Thornton's blood around your neck. Bringing your brother as a date to an awards show and actually treating it like a DATE! Can't you just change your name to Lara Croft and swing around my townhouse on cables while I eat some popcorn. I swear, I think she tried to adopt me last week. Ok, well I just wanted to add Angelina to the 1000. I defy anyone to name anyone more attractive and more repulsive...leave Jewbacca out of it.

And The Freaky!

That's her brother man!

The Definitive 1000

We are going to be counting down the Definitive 1000 things. Why are they Definitive?
Because The Friendly Friends have deemed them as such.

#999 - Eat 'n Park Cookies

Yes, that's correct. Eat 'n Park Smiley Cookies in all of their glorious incarnations. For those of you who are not familiar with Eat 'n Park, this is a chain of restaurants in Central/Western Pennsylvania, Ohio and West Virginia which seems to be the offspring of that time that Denny's drank a little too much Thunderbird and stayed over night at Perkins' place. Nine months later, out popped l'il Eat 'n Park.

I've never understood the name either. Mrs. Jewbacca introduced me to the wonder of Eat 'n Park, although until we pulled into the parking lot I thought she was taking me to Eaton Park, leading me to have much different ideas for the evening. Apparently you actually Park 'n Eat, but hey, the food's good.

These little sugar cookies are probably the only thing on this earth that taste just as good fresh as they do 3-week old stale. They come in a variety of colors, but every single one of them has that smiley face that lets you know, "whatever is happening in the world, I'll still be sitting here smiling insanely -- until you eat me."

True story. I was travelling a lot in western PA when the Steelers were in the playoffs, before eventually winning the Super Bowl. The smiley faces were all black and gold at every Eat 'n Park I entered. I actually smuggled two dozen on the plane to bring back to my in-laws' Super Bowl party, where they were washed down with copious amounts of Iron City beer.

The icing is real thin, but real hard and cracks when you bite into that madly grinning face. It actually kind of hurts your teeth a little and the facial features are made of even harder icing that can actually give your gums a good scrapin' if you're not careful.

Right now, I have but one smiley bunny left. I am savoring it. But alas, it soon will join its 11 other friends in smiley cookie heaven.

Correspondent Challenge No. 2: Which State contains more Hispanics?

Alright folks, you had the opportunity to read and report on the winner of argument number 1. It was a close call in my opinion but I would give the win to Shamalama. Not because of anything he wrote, but because I can't get grits at a Dunkin' Donuts. So here is challenge #2. Lend us your eyes and take a gander. I will let you know my opinion at the bottom.

The answer given by Pissah:

Mass wins hands down, there are no Hispanics. Just lots and lots of Portuguese. Wait, is that a win or a loss?

The answer given by Shamalama:

Come on... Come on...

Seriously. You seriously need more proof than that? I will answer the question in a mock David Letterman Top Ten list, minus the lyrical and musical genius of Paul Shaffer.

On a side note, if Max Weinberg, Paul Shaffer, that Black Guy from Jay Leno and Doc Gibbs from Emeril Live got together that would be friggin' awesome. I'd buy that album. Sign me up. That would be like all the kids from Captain Planet combining their powers plus that Power Rangers Robot and all the Ninja Turtles.... That's a goldmine man.

Back to the original topic...

Number 10: Government offices have to declare what language is the official language to use.

Number 9: The name of the state is FLORIDA... a Spanish word.

Number 8: The old governor had to give his speeches in English and then Spanish.

Number 7: I get asked, "Do you speak Spanish? " in perfect English at least 30 times a day. Number 6: Every other radio station is a Hispanic station.

Number 5: Miami, enough said.

Number 4: I have a Spanish nickname from co-workers and I have no idea what it means. Number 3: Our two main sources of economy are agriculture and construction.

Number 2: We are a stones throw from Cuba, Puerto Rico, the Dominican Republic and border the Gulf of MEXICO.

and Number 1: actually I don't have another... just make number two number one and so forth in that fashion...

HEEEE HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE ** As I throw a pencil at the computer screen.

Sweaty Irishman's assessment:

My heart tells me Shamalama is the winner. My head also tells me Shamalama is the winner. However, after reading this debate the only one who inspired any thought on my part was Pissah's comments. Unfortunately the only thoughts it provoked was for me to wonder if a singular Portuguese person would be called a Portugoose. Therefore Shamalama wins this one to me!

You help make the call in the comments...

Correspondent Challenge No. 1: Dunkin' Donuts vs. Waffle House

Folks, you've waited long enough. We turned the hose on SHAMALAMA and pissah, spackled the holes in the walls, paid off the landlord to ignore the burn marks on the ceiling and found most of their teeth.

Of course, if you've been paying attention, you may notice that this is actually supposed to be Number 4, but this is our place and we make the rules. So Number 4 is now Number 1. Deal.

Here is the answer given by Mr. SHAMALAMA:

Pitting these two behemoths of the perpetual breakfast together is alot like
pitting Michael Jordan vs. Dan Marino. In their own class they are tops. Can't they co-exist? Why all the fighting all the time. But the question is Dunkin'
Donuts vs. Waffle House? So I must not disobey the words.

If you want a good cup of coffee, a nice pastry-like device I'm told is a donut, and a great grammatical use of the contraction, Dunkin' is the place to go.

However, if you want that pastry-like device and coffee covered , diced, smothered, festered, withered, and otherwise loaded down with 18 different types of cholesterol (and no WAITRESS, I DO NOT WANT THE DAMN RANCH DRESSING FOR MY HASH BROWNS NO MATTER IF YOU LIKE IT OR NOT, SO QUIT ASKING ME!) go no further then your next highway exit.

If I had to choose though I'd pick Dunkin' Donuts because every Waffle House looks like it hasn't been renovated since 1973. And the Ranch Dressing incident of 2003. Sorry waitress YOU BLEW IT HARD!!

And here is the retort from the_undercover_pissah:

I can take a casual walk from my house to 5 Dunkin Donuts shops.

Folks, this may be too close to call. We've run the punchcards through the ENIAC and it appears that it's not actually an ENIAC but several refrigerator boxes with buttons drawn on in magic marker.

Pick the winner in the comments....WHOSE CUISINE REIGNS SUPREME????

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y NIGHT!!!

Well, this FF just returned from spending time with another double F.

French Fries? Naw, G.
Fried Fish? Naw, G.
Final Four? Heck naw, G.
[Note: This Jewbacca refuses to acknowledge basketball as a sport]

No, this FF was taken to see The Fab Faux by Mama Jewbacca as a birthday present.

These guys are absolutely unreal. They are five professional musicians from NYC who have dedicated themselves to the pitch perfect reproduction of the music of The Beatles. And of course, The Beatles are the greatest musical group of all time.

[Note: I will come to anyone's house who disagrees with the above statement and punch them in the neck. Hard. This, I promise to you]

These guys, accompanied by a string section and horns on songs calling for them, did a 3 1/2 hour show in which they reproduced the exact album versions of everything from Yellow Submarine (complete with bullhorns and ocean sounds) to I Am the Walrus (complete with all of the sonic lunacy included in the actual recording). They reproduce the exact sounds of these songs with voices and a myriad of instruments. They do not just make recordings of the Beatles and chop them up. They layer voices and instruments to make each song sound like it is made up of multiple tracks.

Completely unreal. I command all of our readers to see these guys ASAP. It is truly an unbelievable show.