Posted tagged ‘raspberry’

Another Dialogue

22 Jun 2009

Reader 2: I’ve grown weary of waiting. My anger rises within me. Anger at Hornblower, and at the world.

Reader 1: He used to be so reliable. So trustworthy. I fear that fame has turned him all topsy-turvy.

Reader 2: I heard he sits all day in the cantina, drinking Land Shark beer.

Reader 1: The Jimmy Buffett beer?

Reader 2: Yes, didn’t you click the hyperlink?

Reader 1: No, I didn’t want to leave this site.

Reader 2: Old feelings die hard.

Reader 1: Your mom dies hard.

Reader 2: What?

Reader 1: Never mind. It’s useless. Hornblower’s the only true comic voice in all the land. We need him.

Reader 2: Forget it, Reader 1. He’s gone home. To roost. We never needed him, you know. He only brought us down. We’re better off without him.

Hornblower: I heard that.

Reader 1, Reader 2, God: Hornblower!

Here’s a dialogue

02 Jun 2009

Reader 1: Hey, Hornblower has been really lazy, lately. Does he just not go to shows any more, or what? Is something wrong with his computer, or his typing hand? Why does he only use one hand to type, anyway? That’s an awful way to do things.

Reader 2: Wow, I don’t know the answers to any of these questions. Literally, not a one. Boy.

Reader 1: Where did Reader 3 go?

Reader 2: Come on, now. There was never a third reader. Hornblower’s lucky he even has us.

Hornblower: I heard that.

Readers 1 & 2: Hornblower!


11 May 2009

I’m thinking maybe some of these upcoming posts will be somewhat less prolix than the behemoths to which you’ve all become accustomed. I wonder how you feel about this, dear reader. We shall see how you find the stylings of the new hornblower.

Ladytron + the Faint + Crocodiles at Webster Hall – 10 April 2009

12 Apr 2009

Okay, dear readers, I haven’t the time for detail, but here are the set lists from Friday’s show, copied exactly from the physical ones, pictures of which will be posted as quickly as time permits my computer recognizes my camera’s memory card. An engaging write-up of the night is also forthcoming RIGHT HERE FOR THE READING!

Whoa, hey now Pitchfork!

08 Mar 2009

First of all, it takes like a hundred thousand minutes to load, man oh man. Second of all, there’s this big old iPod touch advert that dominates the top of the screen. Third of all, the links on the top of the page make it look like every other music Web site (Brooklyn Vegan, Stereogum, et cetera).

Liveblogging U2 at Fordham … Sort Of

06 Mar 2009

Well, it’s not exactly live, but it was when I wrote it. So deal with it.

6:44 We’ve been inside for about half an hour and I’m just bodying people left and right, with no regard for safety or decency. There is an aura of despair that pervades this space and seeps through our pores and lives in our veins. There is a man in a grey suit talking all sorts of crazy jive; he’s the hypeman, and I guess it’s his responsibility to keep us entertained before the U2 get here. He asks where people are from and when someone says Sweden, he says that we can all expect massages after the show. I find it repulsive that he would traffic in such baseless stereotypes just for a laugh (which laugh, it should be noted, he did not receive). At first people were accepting of this grey suit man, but the good will evaporated somewhat quickly. It may have been that people were accepting of him when he was joking about their still being drunk and not having gone to sleep the previous night. Basically, when grey suit man stopped talking about the drunkenness of the students, he lost them.

7:00 The hosts of Good Morning America show their faces. Robin Roberts looking good. Sam Champion keeps the crowd wanting more. Savvy move. It’s worth noting, that although I’ve never seen GMA, I knew the hosts’ names, and I was really confused. I was expecting someone else to be there. And a few others, too


U2 at 5:30 a.m. tomorrow? Count me out.

05 Mar 2009

Talk about lame. Who would wake up at 5:00 a.m. just to eat some lame-o oatmeal and mush and then go to the lame-o grassy quadrangle to sit around in the lame-o cold for hours and watch some lame-o Irishmen sing about boots? I lay even money that Edward’s Parade is a ghost town tomorrow morning. Ghost Town. And not the awesome type of ghost town. The lame-o, boring type of ghost town. Oh, well. I’ll be sitting pretty with my paper stacked high, with the ladies thinking all about the pie in the sky.

03 Mar 2009

Everyone else thinks of Gil Scott-Heron and gets confused whenever you read “Guillermo Scott Herren” (a.k.a. Prefuse 73), right? So weird.

Liveblogging Jimmy Fallon’s first night

03 Mar 2009

1:17 Damn, should have started this when the show started, but better late than never. So far, he’s got a real bag of baloney on his hands, as my grandmother used to say. At this point, he’s probably almost as hated as Chris Brown –at least Rihanna took him back. Fallon is done at NBC. What was he thinking, getting Robert DeNiro to guest? Of course he can’t handle DeNiro. The first few minutes of that interview were like getting smacked in the face with a herring and farted on at the same time. The rest of it was like just the farting. The Space Train clip had zero laughs. I actually did not notice any parts of it that might have induced laughter, in anyone.

The Surowieckipedia — Formative years

02 Mar 2009

James began what was to become a lifelong love affair with coconut macaroons when he was seven years old, in the cafeteria of his grammar school, the Westinville Monster School. His classmate Little Petey approached him with a proposition: Little Petey would share his coconut macaroons with James in exchange for a portion of James’s Vienna sausages. James was (quite understandably) attached to his Vienna sausages, but also intrigued by the Little Petey’s pastries. Large for his age, James quickly sized up the aptly named Little Petey and acted boldly. He accepted Little Petey’s coconut macaroon offering, but when Little Petey reached for a Vienna sausage, James snatched them back and removed several pink weiners from the can. “Dost thou enjoy the Vienna sausages, scurvied goat? Perhaps thou wouldst enjoy them in thine ears!” He twisted a sausage into each of Little Petey’s ears. “And, if thou didst find those weiners pleasant in thy respective external auditory meatuses, perhaps thy nostrils might enjoy as well the slippery texture and pleasant aroma!” He twisted a sausage into each of Little Petey’s nostrils. “Ha, ha!”