I don’t know how to feel about Gallagher’s heart attack

Gallagher continues his gradual convergence with The Crypt Keeper.

If I asked you what you thought of the prop comedian Gallagher, best known for making audiences sit through an hour of visual puns before his famous sledge-o-matic routine, you would probably say something mean. When I was ten, I loved the sledge-o-matic. I distinctly remember walking more than a mile to the video store to rent Gallagher videos with my brother. Twenty-five years later, that video store is a Subway and I am not laughing uproariously at the gag, “You want that cheeseburger to go? [Crushes cheeseburger with mallet.] It’s gone!” Yet Gallagher is doing the exact same thing. There he is in the photo above, making some sort of racket joke and wearing a t-shirt with a picture of himself on it. He is clearly an object of derision. Also, he just emerged from a medically-induced coma after his second heart attack. Now who’s an asshole?

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Another horrible aspect of the Trayvon Martin shooting

Yesterday, the New York Times ran this article about the description George Zimmerman gave to police of what happened just before he shot Trayvon Martin. Not surprisingly, Zimmerman’s version is a desperate act of self-defense. He claims that he returned to his SUV after he lost Martin and was struck from behind, after which Martin “began slamming his head into the sidewalk.” My response to this news was I’ll bet he said that. I have already decided that George Zimmerman is not a reliable witness in the case of his own shooting of an unarmed black kid, which is A) understandable and B) a huge problem, given that I have no way of knowing what actually happened.

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The laziness continues

The internet is for cat pictures.

I don’t want to rub it in, Montanans, but it’s supposed to be 72 degrees in New York today. I plan to spend the afternoon in Central Park, although I may be distracted by the Met’s collection of priceless artworks and/or readily available pan-Asian cuisine. Yes, I will probably accidentally see someone masturbating, but that’s a small price to pay for cosmopolis. While I enjoy the world’s greatest city in decline, how about you read this geopolitical analysis of Afghanistan by a woman with three cats? It’s actually by me. That’s a trope!

Indulge my laziness with recycling!

May not correspond to actual New York City.

Loyal commenter and patient user of keyboard shortcuts Attempt posed a genius question in yesterday’s Comments section: when I’m away on vacation or otherwise stricken with laziness, why don’t I post links to some of my paid work? The answer is because I am not very bright, but it’s possible he was asking rhetorically. In that spirit, here’s an increasingly dated list of crises Tila Tequila has tried to solve by showing her tits. Now that I have become aware of this possibility, I need only write stuff until I reach a sort of critical mass that gives me enough to recycle for the rest of my life, like John Updike.

 

Travel time is a lazy time

It was foolish of Romney to expect a big hand.

Combat! blog is safely ensconced in New York, where all is spring and malodorous fog. The beauty of self-employment is that you can take a trip whenever you want. The horror of self-employment is that your clients still expect you to work no matter what trips you have decided to take, and I remain busier than a shithouse mouse in a country meadow. Combat! blog is the thing I don’t get paid for, and so Combat! blog must suffer. That’s called the invisible hand of the marketplace; it follows that the next best thing would be the very small hand, and so I direct you to the peculiar website One Tiny Hand. Is it an essentially limited concept? Probably. Is it kind of disturbing? Oh yeah. But there is something transcendent about it nonetheless.