Plissken's Shit Food Review: Burger King Mushroom and Swiss Steakhouse Burger
I love Swiss cheese. It’s packed with glory-holes of deliciousness. I love mushrooms, too, even if they make me so gassy I could fart the entire chainsaw solo from “The Lumberjack” by Jackyl. While I'm at it, let’s not forget french-fried onions. They‘re greasy and tasty and totally count as a serving of vegetables as per the FDA food pyramid. So, how could I not love a sandwich with all of those things on it? Oh yes, that’s right; it’s from Burger King. That statement alone is sufficient to make even the most iron-gutted of us shake in fear like a Shar-Pei shitting tacks. But, maybe I shouldn’t judge. So what if the company mascot looks like he isn’t allowed to live less than two hundred feet from all schools or day care centers? Even the shittiest kid in gym class can park a homer or two on occasion.
Time for a Burger King Mushroom and Swiss Steakhouse Burger.
First Impressions
The cold, the dark, and the rain conspired to form an opaque fog on my car windows. The gentle breeze smells of cold and evil. That evil is Burger King, and I'm in the drive-thru lane to Hell. The small trollish woman at the window smiles a black-toothed grin as she approaches with the item in hand. A knowing grin. I momentarily feel like I may have just done a deal with Leland Gaunt. I rush home; if I did just sell my soul for this thing I shouldn't let it get cold. Microwaved soul-burger sounds unappealing.
The Reveal
Seven bucks this sucker cost me. How can these people sleep at night? On a big pile of money I suppose. I hope they inhale a quarter and die.
That's what you get for your hard-earned money
So that's Angus beef? Pardon me, whoever wrote that, I think your "g" key might be sticking. This terrible excuse for a patty was dry, overcooked, and had an overabundance of the color black. If this was indeed Angus beef, The King should be ashamed of himself. Maybe even more than people who have plastic spinner hubcaps or get hookers off Craigslist.
Ready to take a peek under the hood?
The Mastication
This thing made my kitchen smell like a church basement on potluck night. More specifically, it made it smell like the table with the three green bean casseroles that invariably show up. It's cheap fried onions and hot canned mushrooms all the way. This is the first time I've been tempted to back out. But it's too late, and the damn thing was seven bucks.
Wow, it tastes like it smells. The onion flavor is really too strong and strange, but at least it kills some of the tinny, briny mushroom taste. The last time I had ones that tasted this bad they cost me a hundred bucks, but made anime entertaining for the first time.
All in all, I'd say this thing checks in at the top of my list of life regrets. And, I'd say it's bad enough to top other people's, too. I imagine right now, probably in Washington state, there's a guy with a pile of hooker torsos in his closet who just ate one and had it top his list of regrets, too. So yeah, it's worse than murder. But at least no one will gas you to death for doing it. You'll probably take care of that yourself.
1/10 flushes
SnakePlissken wants a Hamdog.
Fundamentalist Fashions for the Little Lady
A few months back, the polygamy-loving Texas sect of the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints made the news for all the wrong reasons - namely, when state authorities conducted a raid to "rescue" children who were allegedly being abused. A state court later ruled that the children should be returned, leading to many questions ...
Are those children safe?
Is it really healthy to force underage girls into marriage?
Where can I get one of those dresses?
Well, at least one of those questions can now be answered.
The polygamist sect that drew the nationÂ’s attention in April when hundreds of children were seized in a raid at its Yearning for Zion ranch in Eldorado, Tex., has begun to sell childrenÂ’s versions of the conservative prairie dresses worn by its members through a Web site, fldsdress.com, creating something of a fashion sensation.
Maggie Jessop, a member of the sect, the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, told The Salt Lake Tribune this week that the community had been flooded with interest since it began selling online several childrenÂ’s styles, which adhere to the churchÂ’s standards for clothing that is neat and comely but not costly.
“We have to make a living the same as everyone does,” Ms. Jessop said.
Wow.
Considering the uniform look of the church members who appeared in Texas courts to regain custody of their children, the site offers a surprising variety of children’s styles — overalls, underwear, jeans, onesies and baby dresses sold with or without bloomers, available in pink, peach, yellow, green, blue, lavender and lilac.
A basic dress sells for $48.07 and a nightgown costs $31.81, but they recall the timeless quality and charitable notions of handmade crafts sold through 19th-century womenÂ’s exchanges.
So, if you're fixin' to marry your 14-year-old cousin and you really want her to look the part, your prayers have been answered.
You can't make this shit up, folks.
crispy is holding out for the long-awaited debut of www.amish-attire.com
Plissken's Shit Food Review: Something McWicked This Way Comes
Once upon a time, in a magical place called "the '80s", I was a young lad and my old man sat me down and told me the three secrets of life. He said, "Don't piss on the third rail; you're proof the pull-out method doesn't work; and never make a pizza out of McDonald's."
Well pops, I'm sorry. I had to impress the SGPDX crew on white trash potluck night. What else could I do, I'm dealing with people who think bacon is a condiment.
The Construct
After studying the assembly of other McPizzas, I decided on a plan of attack. There were some nice examples out there, but my masterpiece would be special; a deadly creation of cunning design the like not seen since LeMarchand's Box. A quick trip to a Wal*Mart Super Center for ingredients seemed appropriate given the occasion. To my shock, this one had a McDonald's in it, though this did explain the unusually large stable of electric scooters at this particular locale.
I arrived at the MisterSatan household, various components in hand, and the Ritual of McDamnation began.
Note that for this application cheaper is better.
First comes the sauce.
Next comes the fries. Those evil fuckers.
The burger layer is added in defiance of all that is holy.
Judicious applications of cheese will help counteract the natural laxative effects of McDonald's.
Gathered round this greasy creation the oven clicked, signaling it was at temperature, and a hush fell through the room. We eyed each other nervously. Is this really a good idea? Should we turn back? Should I call my mom and cry a little? No, children, it's far too late for that.
The Reveal
Soon enough it was out of the oven, piping hot and ready to lay waste to our digestive systems like a cheese ensconced IED. But there was a problem. A big problem.
It looked good. And it smelled good. Some scratched their heads in amazement and others began to worship it. Personally, I found its appearance as confusing as that of a Thai ladyboy.
The Mastication
On paper, this was a weird combo. The kind of thing you'd expect to pop out of a telepod, scream across the room, and latch onto someones neck. Sadly, a shotgun-toting Geena Davis was absent in the event of that occurrence, but sometimes weird combinations work. This was one of them. The fries held up surprisingly well to the sauce, not becoming mushy and saturated as I expected. Their base foundation also served to keep the bottom bun of the burger off the sauce, allowing the bread to toast slightly. Quartering of the burgers in addition to good cheese adhesion allowed the slices to be eaten with minimal mess and topping loss, a challenge even for normal pedestrian pies.
Overall Impressions
I hate to admit it, but it was pretty good. God, I think I'm more embarrassed admitting that than the time I got caught reading Playboys at the bookstore when I was thirteen. But, would I do it again? I suppose if I was getting ready to ride the lightning I'd give it another go, but as regular meal? God no. I can't afford to put in an automated lift to get upstairs.
But that doesn't mean you shouldn't try it.
I give the McPizza
8/10 flushes
SnakePlissken eagerly awaits pics of your versions.
Sweet Jesus, Make Them Stop!
While many sons and daughters will be spending May 11th showering their maternal figures with flowers, cards, handmade macaroni pictures and the like as thanks for being torn asunder from quivering loins (more commonly known as "the miracle of birth"
, we are inching ever so closer to Armageddon, and we have no one but the Duggar family to thank.
That's right, a new chapter is being added to the continuing adventures of Jim Bob Duggar and his semen trough cracker factory, uh, wife.
It's a happy Mother's Day for an Arkansas woman — she's pregnant with her 18th child. Michelle Duggar, 41, is due on New Year's Day, and the latest addition will join seven sisters and 10 brothers. There are two sets of twins.
Yes, you read that correctly. Eighteenth child.
For those of you playing at home, Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar are conservative Baptists from Arkansas. He's a real estate agent and a wannabe Republican senator (he ran in 2002 and 2006, losing both times). She's a walking fetus rotisserie. They have 17 children, who range in age from 20 (Joshua) to 9 months (Jennifer). The rest are as follows:
Jana, 18; John-David, 18; Jill, 16; Jessa, 15; Jinger, 14; Joseph, 13; Josiah, 11; Joy-Anna, 10; Jeremiah, 9; Jedidiah, 9; Jason, 7; James, 6; Justin, 5; Jackson, 3; and Johannah, 2.
$20 in the SG Pool says Jedidiah is the first to go gay Democrat pothead atheist. How else do you get through life with a name like "Jedidiah?"
Duggar has been been pregnant for more than 11 years of her life, and the family is in the process of filming another series for Discovery Health.
135 months to be exact. That's over 4,000 days (I am not figuring out Leap Years) of little Jesus spawn Children of the Corn, uh, healthy, happy, children, always happy, always smiling, Come and play with us. Come and play with us, Danny...*shudder* Alright, dammit. Enough is enough, I say!
When a stiff wind can blow past your va-jay-jay and make a sound resembling thunderous applause, you have a problem.
When your doctor walks out with your new baby, you have a problem.
When an Internet meme mocking the sorry state of your genitals comes into existence to the laughter of millions, you have a problem.
And yes, they have a TV show. The TV gods could've freed up some airtime for marathons of Manimal or Circus of the Stars, but oh no...
The new show looks at life inside the Duggar home, where chores — or "jurisdictions" — are assigned to each child. One episode of the new show involves a "jurisdiction swap," where the boys do chores traditionally assigned to the girls, and vice versa, Duggar said.
"Jurisdictions?" Good gravy. What's wrong with a chore wheel?
"The girls swapped jurisdictions, changing tires, working in the garages, mowing the grass," she said. "The boys got to cook supper from start to finish, clean the bathrooms," among other chores.
Reversal of outdated, stereotypical gender roles? Oh, those wacky Duggars! What crazy scheme will they think up next? Anal, perhaps?
The Duggers claim they'll keep riding bareback "as long as God wills it."
"The success in a family is first off, a love for God, and secondly, treating each other like you want to be treated," Jim Bob Duggar said. "Our goal is for each one of our children to be best friends, and everybody working together to serve each other makes that happen."
If those two close in on Daad Mohammed Murad Abdul Rahman's mark in my lifetime, so help me, I'm sharpening my zombie machete.
thefreak, in all seriousness, wishes all you moms out there in SG Land a Happy Mother's Day. And he's shopping for cheap vasectomies in Mexico.
Taliban: Can You Hear Me Now?
The Taliban, whose regime has banned such things as clapping at sporting events, dancing, VCRs, pool tables, anything that plays music, television, lobster, kite flying, nail polish and a wide variety of other things has now given Afghanistan cell phone companies an ultimatum.
The Taliban wants cell phone service to go dark from 5 p.m. in the evening until 7 a.m. in the morning.
The towers and offices of mobile phone operators in Afghanistan are being pressured to shut down operations at night by the Taliban. The former rulers of Afghanistan and current insurgent group held "talks" with the four major mobile companies in Afghanistan today, and gave them three days to go dark for 14 hours per day—or else.
Basically, anyone in Afghanistan would only have cellular service for about ten hours a day. I am not a big fan of cell phones, I get irritated when I see someone driving and drifting in their lane on the highway, while holding a phone to their ear. The Taliban must be worried about people talking while driving during rush hour, right?
Nope.
The reason for the threat is the Taliban's belief that American soldiers and rebels within Afghanistan are using mobile phones to track down remaining Taliban members.
"Since the occupying forces stationed in Afghanistan usually at night use mobile phones for espionage to track down the mujahideen, the Islamic Emirate gave a three-day ultimatum to all mobile phone firms to switch off their phones from five in the afternoon until seven in the morning," Taliban spokesperson Qari Mohammad Yousuf told Reuters, ironically via mobile phone (and presumably during daylight).
Evidently that T-Mobile: Pay-As-You-Go thing isn't working out as planned for the Taliban, but they got a really good deal on all those Sidekicks. They also believe that American Forces are using old technology to track them, not the billions of dollars worth of communication and spy sattelites.
Shutting down the cell phone service for that long in Afghanistan is a bad thing for the innocent people just trying live a normal life. The country doesn't have a very good land based infrastructure. Once cell phone service is deactivated, communications between people, emergency services and other vital sources is for the most part, cut off completely.
The situation is not like it is here in the United States, if our cell phone service fails, we can still pick up the land line phone in the house and make and receive phone calls. In most cases, the cell phone is the only means of communication for most of the people in Afghanistan.
A lack of cell phone service to this multitude of people would not only cut their communications to other people, emergency services and other vital sources, it would also leave the innocent people wide open to attack by the Taliban, without being able to communicate it to anyone else.
I personally don't think for a second that the Taliban's only reason for shutting this system down is for their own safety. This is just another case where the totalitarian Taliban extremists believe that world should conform to them.
Fortunately, Afghanistan's communication companies are used to this type of thing.
This isn't the first time the Taliban has challenged mobile operators in Afghanistan. In the past, the group has accused the phone companies of actively working with US troops as well as NATO, although not much has happened as a result of those threats. Still, it's no doubt unsettling to the mobile operators to know that they may be targeted for continuing with business as usual
I am far from a great military leader. Leading thousands of soldiers to battle to the death is more than likely not in my future. I know cell phones can be tracked through GPS if it's turned on, and I once saw on CSI:New York that you can triangulate someone's position between towers with a Dell Inspiron if they make a call. Wouldn't it be a little less difficult if you know, the Taliban shut their personal cell phones off, rather than making an entire country go dark?
If they did shut down the entire service down for the night, it would stop that drunk dialing once the bars close, that's never a bad thing and could prevent embarrassment and that feeling of regret.
DevilsReject feels superior to the Taliban because he knows how Airplane Mode works.
Karl Rove Overdoses On His Own Kool-Aid
Today is the day that Washington finally flushes a turd that's been stinking America up for years. Yes, Karl Rove is leaving the White House and today he celebrated by gazing into his crystal ball and writing an opinion in the National Review about how history will view Bush. It's probably the single most detached-from-reality piece of work I've ever read. It's existence scientifically proves the existence of other dimensions, this one written from a far away realm named the "Bush White House". Karl has only been funnier while rapping. Of Bush and his policies, Rove writes:
America, he said, will not wait until dangers fully materialize with attacks on our homeland before confronting those threats.
More "Iraq attacked us". Classic!
The president gave the nation new tools to defeat terrorism abroad and protect our citizens at home with the Patriot Act, foreign surveillance that works in the wireless age, a transformed intelligence community, and the Department of Homeland Security.
Karl, what about the domestic spying programs? Aren't you proud of those? He busted my gut with this one:
And this president saw the wisdom of removing terrorismÂ’s cause by advocating the spread of democracy, especially in the Muslim world, where authoritarianism and repression have provided a potent growth medium for despair and anger aimed at the West. He recognized that democracy there makes us safer here.
As with everything else in Turd Blossom's love letter, nothing could be further from the truth. Democracy for Iraq, is far from assured:
The National Intelligence Estimate, released on Thursday, casts doubts on the viability of the Bush Administration strategy in Iraq. It gives a dim prognosis on the likelihood that Iraqi politicians can heal sectarian rifts before March, when US military commanders have said that a crunch on available troops will require a reduction in the US presence in Iraq.
Bush's brain would rather focus on the positive:
President Bush will be seen as a compassionate leader who used AmericaÂ’s power for good. While the world dithered, America confronted HIV/AIDS in Africa with the PresidentÂ’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief, which has supported treatment for more than 1.1 million people worldwide, over one million of them in Africa.
Karl didn't mention that much of the money spent by the US is for abstinence programs that don't work. Or worse, put more lives in jeopardy.
Nobody can be wrong all the time and Karl is 100% correct when he states:
The outcome in Iraq and Afghanistan will color how history views the president.
Ain't that the truth...but don't forget New Orleans!
History demands much of America and its leaders and I am confident it will judge the 43rd president as a man more than worthy of the great office the American people twice entrusted to him.
Arguably, he wasn't elected even once. Even republicans have had enough of Bush. A Former Reagan official has a slightly different take on Bush. Paul Craig Roberts writes:
Bush has discarded habeas corpus and the Geneva Conventions, justified torture and secret trials, damned critics as anti-American, and is responsible, according to Information Clearing House, for over one million deaths of Iraqi civilians, which puts Bush high on the list of mass murderers of all time.
HOOFAH!...to be fair, I'm not sure if Roberts is still a republican after years of Bush. Roberts lays it on:
"The war criminal is in the living room, and no official notice is taken of the fact," Roberts writes. "Lacking US troops with which to invade Iran, the Bush administration has decided to bomb Iran 'back into the stone age.'"
Oh yeah, Iran. One of the more interesting ideas floating around Rove's resignation is that he was actually an internal administration voice that was against air strikes on Iran. After losing that struggle with Darth Cheney, it was time for Karl to "spend more time with the family". (Incidentally, in this supposed scenario Tony Snow decided he didn't want to deal with the questions of bombing Iran, so he retired to make more money to fight his cancer.) Interesting indictment of the American health care system, no? The President's very own mouth piece can't afford to work for him, live comfortably and fight his cancer.
Unfortunately, we're cursed to live through interesting times. Worse still, dissent has been practically equated with treason. Say what you will of Karl Rove -- nobody can ever make the case he's not a bright guy. I think he's pulling a "Costanza" leaving on a "high note" (If only). Adios, Turd Blossom. You will not be missed.
Bill Moyers puts a nice bow on the end of the Rove era:
FTR was sick with the flu today, so it fell to Gerry to send Karl on his way.
Action, Excitement, All That and a Bag of Chips
There is no other way to preface this story, so I'm just going to come out and say it: I love junk food. I love junk food. I have what you might call a slight obsession with the stuff, and the weirder and more "flavor explosion"-y the better. It's a weird little quirk, to be sure, but I deal with it in my own little quiet way, forcing new taste sensations on all of my friends and blogging about it until they threaten to bludgeon me with a soda bottle. This is the most visceral way I could think of to share my love of empty calories with the world, because I am not completely out of my mind. This is, I guess, also why I don't work for Frito-Lay, because they've got a new campaign going on that is really thinking outside the box. Or within the box, depending on how you look at it. It's something, all right.
Frito-Lay's Doritos is back at the consumer-generated game once again. This time, it's partnering with Microsoft's Xbox 360 to let fans design an Xbox LIVE Arcade game embodying the spirit of the tortilla chip brand.
In addition to a $6,000 prize package, five finalists will get to work with Xbox LIVE Arcade development teams to build playable versions of their game concept, which will be available at the Doritos development Web site.
The idea is that, once all the finalists' Cool Ranch-tinged games are in by October, you'll be able to visit the site (Snack Strong Productions FYI) and vote on your favorite. Then the winning game will be developed in full XBox360 glory for free download release in summer of next year.
So, okay, we all know by now that video game culture is becoming more pervasive in every facet of life these days, but Frito-Lay's new venture really begs the question: how does one design a game around a corn chip? I mean, they're delicious and come in roughly ten gillion flavors, but that's about it. Nothing really awe-inspiring, right?
"Doritos fans continue to tell us how excited they are to be part of, and personalize, what is important to them," says Ann Mukherjee, vice president of marketing for Frito-Lay.
Well. It disturbs me somewhat, this sort of implications of the importance of Doritos in anyone's life, but after the wild success of their Crash the Super Bowl contest (and really, it was one of the cutest commercials there), it is clear that user-generated content sells and Doritos are perfectly poised to be the YouTube of the snack food empire. At this point, how can we possibly expect to beat them? May as well join them.
The last time I had a bag of Doritos, I was pounding my way through the jungles of Guadal Canal. I pulled the pin from my last grenade, saucily popped a Fiery Habañero chip into my mouth, and...
Wait, no. The last time I had a bag of Doritos, I was down in the basement of an abandoned pharmaceutical factory, hiding from wretched medical zombies made of evil. I cocked the trigger on my plasma-blaster gun, powered up my health with a dose of Spicy Nacho, flung open the door and...
Wait, okay, no. The last time I had a bag of Doritos, I was sitting on the couch in my old gym shorts, watching reruns of Project Runway. I crunched a layer of Salsa Verde chips atop the bologna in my bagel sandwich, raised the remote control to adjust the volume, drew a semi-warm can of cherry cola to my lips, and...
Nah, that's not the Doritos experience at all.
_DictionaryGirl_ doesn't usually turn to Penny Arcade for breaking news, but this was too great to pass up. She also thinks that Smokin' Cheddar BBQ's win over Mild White Cheddar in the "Fight for the Flavor" contest was a total upset, and that Flavor X-13D tastes like cheeseburgers and ass.
Tom Cruise and Xenu to Detox 9/11 Workers
WhatÂ’s up with celebrities and 9/11 this week? On the one hand, we have Rosie OÂ’Donnell claiming that 9/11 was the first time that fire has ever melted steel. Now, weÂ’ve got uber-nut Tom Cruise hosting a gala to promote his Scientology-based detox program for workers at the WTC site who are suffering from poor health.
Tickets for the April 19 fund-raiser, which will star Cruise and benefit the New York Rescue Workers Detoxification Project, run as high as $100,000 for a table for eight.
The downtown Manhattan clinic offers free Scientology-inspired treatments to firefighters, cops and other rescue workers exposed to high levels of toxins at Ground Zero.
The program - which had received hundreds of thousands of dollars in city funds - hasn't been endorsed by the Fire or Police departments and has been described by some experts as nothing more than medical mumbo-jumbo.
The controversial program, which consists of high doses of niacin, sitting in a steam room, and taking frequent showers has been understandably adopted by many desperate and sick workers, but has been roundly denounced in the medical community as quackery. Ironically, since the programÂ’s most ardent spokesman has been Mr. Cruise, one of the benefits that this program claims is an increase in IQ.
I suppose that a joke about that would just be glib, right Tom?
HereÂ’s Tommy, railing against junk science:
Keith Richards: "I Snorted My Dad"
Keith Richards, guitarist for the most successful touring band in North America (!?) recently told NME that one of the craziest things he's ever ingested was his father's ashes.
"He was cremated and I couldn't resist grinding him up with a little bit of blow," he told NME. Richards' father, Bert, died at the age of 84 in 2002.
[...]
He said in the interview that his father's ashes "went down pretty well."
Of course now Richards' publicist (and party-pooper), Jane Rose, is claiming that the admission was just a joke. I imagine that she's more alarmed that Richards basically admitted that he's still doing coke rather than the fact he had a final father-and-son bonding moment. Richards' relationship with his father was strained for a good part of his life (Keef even dropped the “s” on his last name for a period) so it's nice to see that that they finally progressed to the point where all paternal relationships should end: ground up with some cocaine and snorted through a rolled-up dollar bill.
In between father snorting stories, Richards also managed to get in some digs at the current at the current music scene in Britain when he called the Arctic Monkeys, the Libertines and others "a load of crap." He also, presumably with a straight face, urged Kate Moss to stay away from "bad boys" like Pete Doherty.
Michael Jackson Wants a 50 Foot Desert Robot
If you ask me, the headline for this post is all you need to read to capture the hardcore lunacy brilliance of the totally sane King of Pop's completely normal plan.
Michael Jackson has been reviewing plans for a 50-foot robotic replica of himself should he launch a show there.
"It would be in the desert sands," said Mike Luckman of Luckman Van Pier, consultants to large entertainment companies. "Laser beams would shoot out of it so it would be the first thing people flying would see. Neon is wonderful, but it's old school."
Shh...you had me at "50 foot robot replica of Michael Jackson with lasers shooting out of it." In a related story, all the wars of the world stopped for a few minutes while everyone tried to stop giggling.
(PointBlank thinks he'd be happy with a 20-foot cyborg. Lasers optional)
Roy Orbison in Cling-film Hits the Presses
This story is not about Roy Orbison wrapped in Clingfilm. This story is not even really about stories about Roy Orbison wrapped in Clingfilm. No, this story is about my fascination with the fact that stories about Roy Orbison wrapped in Clingfilm have evolved and broken out to such a degree that a news site has deemed them worthy of writing a story about. (Wow, that was like, three levels of meta right there. I just made myself dizzy. Watch out, now!)
I donÂ’t know if youÂ’ve ever had the pleasure, but as for me, the first time I heard about UlliÂ’s Roy Orbison in Cling-film Site was in 2003, when Ben Platt wrote it up as an SA Awful Link of the Day. He pretty much hit the nail on the head with his take on the matter:
I think I speak for all of us when I say, guh? I mean, what the hell? Society is dictated by a huge number of unwritten rules. Call me crazy, but I've always thought that one of the better ones was "Don't fucking wrap Roy Orbison in plastic."
If you havenÂ’t, in fact, had the pleasure of viewing this magical site, you might be wondering what kind of metaphor is being made by all this talk of Roy Orbison wrapped in Cling-film. ThatÂ’s where youÂ’d be wrong. There is no metaphor. ItÂ’s exactly what it sounds like. Slash fan fiction. About Roy Orbison. Wrapped in Cling-film. Gah.
'We have been struck by an asteroid,' I report. 'One of the precision-engineered BMW engines has been knocked out of alignment. Unless it can be mended we will die.'
'Suit me up,' says Roy. 'I'm going out there.'
'Captain,' I say nervously, 'you are not going to like this. I am afraid we forgot to bring space-suits on this mission.'
'Ach!' says Roy. 'This is a grave disappointment.'
I clear my throat diffidently. 'There is one thing we might try. As you know I had the foresight to bring many rolls of clingfilm with us for emergencies just such as this.'
'I scoffed at the time but now I perceive you were wise. You will wrap me in cling-film at once.'
I retrieve some cling-film from the Clingfilm Stowage Compartment where several hundred of the translucent rolls of joy glint softly in the cabin lights.
Roy Orbison unbuckles from his seat and floats out into the middle of the cabin, his black clothing billowing about him in the zero gravity like the folds of some black cloth manta ray. 'Commence,' he says.
ItÂ’s all fun for a laugh, kind of like Gem Sweater or the Tron dude. You read it, you snap your head back in surprise, you send it to all your friends, and then you forget about it. Right? Wrong. Dead wrong. This motherfucker just turned this website into a book, and itÂ’s selling. This is where the real actual newspaper article comes into play.
Ulrich Haarburste's novel Orbison in Clingfilm is likely the most unusual book released this year, and is reason for aspiring writers worldwide -- who have yet to see their work published -- to gouge out their eyes.
The bizarre bit of lit -- backed by a U.K. publishing house that's known more for titles like The Energy Challenge, Grandma's Garden and The Call of Duty: A Policeman's Story -- has gained a loyal and hyper-hip following on the web.
I think the bit about unpublished authors wanting to gouge our eyes out is a little bit harsh. It's no surprise at this point that the stories aren't based on real passion (though, internet being what it is, I'm sure some people have derived unironic pleasure from the site). As the web address indicates, the author is one Maddox-esque Michael Kelly, and quite frankly I salute him for sticking with such a left-field idea for so long.
The work carries the name of Ulrich Haarburste, but it's actually the work of U.K. humour writer Michael Kelly. Not that he will admit it.
Like Baron Cohen's Borat, it's Haarburste who responds to Sun Media's questions. Asked to describe his book, he explains: "I do not wish to speak boastfully. As your Leonard Cohen is saying, 'Art is a verdict and not an occupation.'
"However, if people's verdict should be that my work has changed their lives or provided them with a reason for living then I must humbly accept that."
Originally, I wanted to say that I never thought I’d see the day someone would spend their time and money publishing a book based on a goofy joke website about Roy Orbison wrapped in Cling-film. Then again, four years ago I was saying: “I never thought I’d see the day someone would spend their time on the internet writing about Roy Orbison wrapped in Cling-film.” It’s all kinds of crazy, I suppose, to varying degrees.
MORAL: God bless the internet.