June 26, 2009 Heroes, celebrities, music

We were uncertain whether to blog about Michael Jackson’s death since we’re in the business of flambéing tabloid-fodder celebs whenever we have the opportunity (though we must stress how much we also relish poking a stick in the common man’s ribs).

Michael Jackson was the king of the tabloids (who until yesterday were referring to him as “The Self-Proclaimed King of Pop” – get ready for more shameless post-mortem backstepping than after Diana’s death), the wellspring of more checkout-aisle drivel than anyone who has ever lived – yes, we stand by what would be hyperbole about anyone else – and the punchline to more late-night monologue jokes than OJ Simpson and any two American presidents you got combined. Hell as recently as Monday, we were pulling out of the gift-that-keeps-giving Jacko joke bag.

But we’re also children’ of the 1980s, a decade that thankfully preceded the YouTube generation. Had somebody’s mobile phone camera been trained on us back in those days you might have seen one or both of us in those leather jackets with zippers, pitting a Michael Jackson doll in an uneven fight with a Mr. T action figure, or wearing one glove (doing so and coming through Canadian winters with all fingers accounted for was just good luck). Neither of us would ever own up to behind-closed-doors moonwalking, but let’s just say that Michael Jackson was as much a part of 80s childhoods as He-Man, bad cinema, and insatiable yuppie greed that shat on the hopes and ideals of the two decades that preceded it.

Chris remembers hearing Thriller for the first time at his cousin’s house and it blowing his mind. Noel remembers a running feud with an older neighbor kid who ridiculed him for saying (in the chirpish voice of youth) that Thriller and Bad were awesome. The neighbor insisted that Michael Jackson was just a poor man’s Lionel Richie and was not afraid of doling out a noogie to get his point across. (If that guy’s reading today, let’s just say that, Thriller, the best-selling album of all time – which in effect is an untouchable record because computer piracy has killed the album – well, it wasn’t put out by Lionel.) What we both remember are sounds that will forever be there in our minds. We think back to our childhoods and remember this music and – unlike the majority of 80s television and the second Terminator film – it stands the test of time, and we give ourselves credit for not having tin ears at that age.

Of course, then there were the 1990s. Michael Jackson’s musical output deteriorated and things got from cute weird – who wouldn’t want a pet chimpanzee (though maybe not to hang around with an aged Liz Taylor) – to the kind of weird that made liking him as a musician an awkward thing to admit.

It seems that if you’re a celebrity from a humble start, that included in the welcome gift bag you get upon entry into the club of the super fabulous is a posse of bloodsuckers incapable of giving advice other than “I think it’s time you sign the monthly pay slips, boss.” Throw in a mind that is not exactly a specimen of sound health and the results are inevitable – Howard Hughes insane and pissing in specimen bottles while his fortune crumbles, Mike Tyson boxing tomato cans for the minimal cash that’s in it, Michael Jackson building the Neverland Ranch, and inviting children into a world that screamed, “We find on behalf of the plaintiff”.

The charges against him lose some steam when you look at those making them.  What manner of person sends their kids for pajama parties at the home of a pop star who is, at best, a troubled middle-aged man who thinks cotton candy should be available on demand?

We’re not the types to look back on Annie Hall or Hannah and Her Sisters with a perspective skewed by the Soon-Yi affair – they remain classics… though we will drop Woody like a turd from a tall horse if he does another film with Scarlett Johansson. (Some things are just unforgivable). A creative work of merit stands above and apart from the personal shortcomings of its creator. Thank the pharaohs for that or we’d be in trouble.

For those of us who grew up with his sounds causing us early ear drum damage, his music gets the first two or three tracks of our life soundtracks.

Michael Jackson produced more great music between the ages of six and eight than any of the Idol programs will produce in their entire run. R.I.P.

May 13, 2009 Heroes

People respond differently to natural and man-made disasters—say, refusing to attend Ghosts of Girlfriends Past screenings for the latter.

For those of the “God must’ve been angry at New Orleans” natural variety, some folks choose to hunker down, stay vigilant and throw their weight behind and on top of whatever neighbor is still defying gravity, while others find that defying death is just the moment to seduce the missus.

In a bit of inspired writing that doesn’t normally grace newspapers unless freelancers bust through union restrictions limiting their use, a scribe at the Houston Chronicle noted that there’s been “a curious bump in the number of women who are rounding out their third trimesters of pregnancy”. This two time double entendre turn of phrase is much preferable to the ‘throwing the baby out with the bath /flood waters’ that might’ve otherwise passed the tired eyes of copy editors.

Yes, it seems that doctors who work in Houston’s busiest maternity ward say they’re expecting an especially hectic June, due either to the big storm or spouses’ attempts at wresting husbands away from the onset of the NFL season.

Apparently, it’s been eight months since Ike blasted the region, knocking out electricity and leaving many with no television, Internet access or stash of pharmaceutical distractions that would otherwise pass the time.

It seems obstetrical practices like The Woman’s Hospital of Texas (word on the street has it that it’s a great place to pick up chicks) are doing double duty these days and that this baby boom could be the result of diminished pharmacy hours during which time you’d normally replenish a batch of expired condoms.

This leaves us with one inescapable conclusion: People left to their own devices, when there’s nowhere to go and nothing to do, practice unprotected sex.

As one Houstonian put it, who is much more given to cynicism than we are: “Anyone can procreate. Actually, stupidity and vanity rule in the ‘I can make a baby’ department. Oh, wow, people had sex during a hurricane, stop the presses. There was the “I need to party and screw” mentality, and there were others who got out and helped their neighbors.”

“You are like a hurricane
There’s calm in your eye.
And I’m gettin’ blown away”

Like a Hurricane, Neil Young.

February 5, 2009 Heroes

We’ve noticed that we’ve received a slew of new readers of late, not new in that their lips still move when they read, but to put it more accurately, new to the site.

Well, despite what you are reading here, this is typically a non posting day. Yes, in the interests of keeping things fresh, like produce brought to market before being unloaded to the nearest foodbank, we maintain a strict posting regimen of three times a week, Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Of course, in the event of an occurrence so momentous it requires our immediate attention—the Obama inauguration, the air strike in Gaza, shortlist for best Lowland Terrier at the Westminster Dog Show, rest assured we’ll be at our keyboards, in our respective home bases of Toronto and Bangkok, bringing you the funny.

As depicted in the artwork above, today is a day devoted solely to research, not of the type that determines what makes the human genome tick, muscle density loss in outer space or how to build a better fuel cell, but researching what we’ve become known for: our very unique Lists. [For our previous lists, click here].

Since then, we’ve amassed the Top 20 Worst Masked Wrestling Gimmicks of All Time, Top 10 Exploding Animals, Psychic Predictions that were Hilariously off the Mark, Top 5 Moments in Junk Science, Top 10 Drinking and Driving Songs, Top 10 Psychic Predictions, Top 10 Songs about Gin and 20 Worst Christmas Ornaments Found on Ebay. These can be found here.

If there are any lists you’d like to see here, we’re open to suggestion and welcome using other people’s ideas on occasion rather than generating our own. Feel free to email us at admin@thesharkguys.com

That’s all for now, join us tomorrow for more merriment.

Cheers,

The Shark Guys