Kathie Lee Gifford: “C’mon kids, let’s hip hop!”

There is no god… [via]

Posted by Kevin K. on 12/26/08 at 10:38 AM • Permalink

Categories: Knee SlappersMusicMusic VideosSkull HampersYouTubidity

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There is no god…

Or else He/She has a wicked sense of humor.

I’d do practically anything to avoid listening to Kathie Lee. Those poor kids. Guess they were naughty this year.

No Hanukkah picture yet, but Santa brought me my “official” Obama-Biden t-shirt!

Comment by J. on 12/26/08 at 11:38 AM

oh heck, the close ital tag didn’t work… : (


Pee-Wee should never have sold that place to strangers.

O man o manischewitz, that should be illegal. I didn’t get past the first few dance moves.

Pee-Wee should never have sold that place to strangers.

I was thinking the folks from HR Puff N Stuff had gone off their rockers and taken some real acid.

HB: That’s Pee-Wee’s flowerbox window and weird Tim-Burton-y tetrahedron wall cut-out (where the hamburger puppet is). In fact, it’s the whole Playhouse living room frame, just stripped-down, papered-over and tarted-up for Christmas.

...which doesn’t necessarily rule out an even earlier life working for Sid & Marty Krofft.

And, yes, this is possibly the cruelest thing Kevin K. has every posted.

Wow.  Takes a special kind of awful taste to concoct something like that.  What was she supposed to be dressed as?  I kept vacillating between housewife, waitress and maid.  And you’re right, Strange, that is definitely PeeWee’s Playhouse further adding to the almost surreal feel.  So bad it could be cultishly good over time.

marindenver—Near as I can tell, she’s either a waitress or the flight attendant at some futuristic truck-stop with a liquor license. From the juke box (which appears to be the illegitimate offspring of “Chairy the Chair” and “Jambi the Genie”), the diner stools and the curiously mattress-quilt-padded tables, a better guess might be that she’s the Madame in a kind of a drug-fueled “Sugar Shack” of underage sex-slaves, serving the urban thug/“Happy Days” perv demo.

PS: Big-time hissy-fight going on over at Darragh’s Home for Strays, if you enjoy watching the inevitable happening in real-time:


Comment by StrangeAppar8us on 12/26/08 at 04:08 PM


How has nobody not mentioned Harriet for Senate?

Can we get Rumproast to join the movement?  Imagine the LULZ we’d get from Senator Harriet Christian!

Why do you hate your readers so much?

Thank you -very- much, I just -got- new eyeballs for mumblegenericholiday and now they’re totally burned out.  Less than -half a day’s- worth of use.  They weren’t cheap either.  -retreats muttering balefully-

thatguysiqlike1/3adoorknob: They don’t WANT our help.

I left this message of support over at the Harriet Christian page, and it’s ALREADY been deleted. Ingrates:

TheCrazyCatLadyonTheSimpsons, on December 26th, 2008 at 3:44 pm Said:

Harriet Miers speaks for me and all women! Go Harriet! You should have been a SCOTUS Justice, but this would be just as great!

How has nobody not mentioned Harriet for Senate?

and how can forget the stirring words of Will Bower recalling the moment our Harriet first appeared before us in all her incoherent glory:

I saw the cameras swarm in on our Harriet. I decided to stay and watch her in her glory. [...] Did I think that she could have been more coherent at first? Yes, I did. Did I feel that she was flirting with the edge of reason? Yes, I did. Would I have had her change a thing? No, I wouldn’t. [...] I hope you will all take the time to get to know Harriet as I have. Harriet is salty. Harriet is a firecracker. Harriet is many things. But Harriet is not a lunatic. ~
My Evening With Harriet Christian

Help Harriet come up with some slogans for her senate seat bid:

Flirting with the Edges of Reason


Harriet is many things. But Harriet is not a lunatic.


Drunk with Indignation
For NY Senate


Incoherent White Woman for NY Senate


Comment by the farmer on 12/26/08 at 05:21 PM

rewrite - make that:

Incoherent White Female
for NY Senate


I’m on to you KK. There is no way in hell I’m clicking play.

I was thinking the folks from HR Puff N Stuff had gone off their rockers and taken some real acid.

Ah yes, HR HuffnStuff. I’m convinced watching the the brainworms of S & M Croft as a child kept me off drugs as an adult. There was no point.

Thank you, Ripley! : )

Hannukah picture courtesy of I’m Not Feeling You.

“thatguysiqlike1/3adoorknob”.  StrangeApp, there I go wasting a perfectly good barley wine on my keyboard.

My Harriet Christian story:  It was not difficult to get tickets to the May 31 RBC meeting as a DC local.  I was there with 8 folks with DC for Democracy who went with the goal of making sure the crazies didn’t take control.

There were plenty of crazies there, and taking control was clearly their goal.  During the morning session, Harriet sat in back of us.  She would boo and hiss when Donna Brazile or Robert Wexler was speaking, and stand up and cheer when Harold Ickes spoke.  It was real work to keep from turning around telling her to STFU.  I was just glad she didn’t have a belch setting.

But I recognized her.  She was in front of me in line at the McDonald’s next to the Woodley Park Metro.  While she was being nasty to the counter person, I was thinking that I just hoped she wasn’t there for the RBC meeting, ‘cause that would suck.

Most of the people I knew in DC were Obama supporters more or less, but there was something about the nascent PUMAs at the RBC meeting that galvanized our support.  I’m glad Jane Hamsher was there to get Harriet Christian on tape, but I think my memory of the event would have starred Harriet regardless.

we need to practice the habit of not being OFFENDED and cutting ourselves out because someone disagrees with us or sees the world differently.

Waaaah! My irony-o-meter just melted.

HTP: Are you attacking me, my religion, my pathetic shallowness, my constant whining or the quality of my personal commitment to the values and mission of Rumproast?

I sure hope so, ‘cause we’re missing all the fun over here by posting wry, snarky, non-confrontational observations instead of ripping each other’s faces off and threatening to quit the blog.

The PUMAs are en fuego today. Murphy needs to repost the Favreau pic, pronto, before she winds up presiding over a saloon fight. Without an external object for their deathless, free-floating rage, they eat their own.

StrangeApp, CrazyKatLady’s still there as of 10:15—- I thought she sounded familiar. I thought I’d back her up:

angrykittenz, on December 27th, 2008 at 2:58 am Said:
You go Harriet!!!!!!!! You’re “HOT FLASH” this summer was the Ultimate!!!!!! We “Wise” Old Crones won’t be burned at the “STAKE” ANYMORE LOL!!!!!!!!!!!! We SUFFER mre than anyBODY and well make them PAY!!!!! CRONE’S RULE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mutual support is SO important.

Very curious.  The endorsements seem to come and go over there.  While CrazyKatLady’s comment was there a few minutes ago, it is not now.  And neither is angrykittenz.  Also a little something that (ahem) I penned, under a guise I don’t want to share as it appears over at PUMApac from time to time (ahem) made an appearance for a short time but now is gone also.

Mrs. Polly/marindenver: My understanding from Darragh’s blog is that there were a large number of “obot” spoof posts that had to be deleted during the day.

The “now you see it, now you don’t” Brigadooning of some posts may or may not be a glitch common to certain types of comment software. Then again, they may be embarrassed that they only have 12 bona fide Harriet endorsements at this point, and are reconsidering some of the bizarre-but-possibly-sincere posts to bulk-up the page.

It is, of course, all ridiculous. Harriet is less qualified—and vastly less sane—than Caroline Kennedy but, dammit, she’s the “PUMAs’ Choice” for arbitrary female Senator from NY.

After clicking on the “experience” tab and looking hard at the picture, I somehow felt the presence of Patrick Fitzgerald, friend to the friendless, renderer of succor to certain overgrown sorority sisters, the Javert of Joliet.
And I liked it. Yes!

but, dammit, she’s the “PUMAs’ Choice” for arbitrary female Senator from NY.

If only we could be flies on the wall when someone suggests this appointment to Gov. Paterson.

OK, curiously all the comments are alive under “endorsements” (including Liz I’s great insights) but the comments on the Home page are being ruthlesssly pruned.  Ms. Polly, angrykittenz additional remarks are there now but who knows what the shelf life will be.  As for me, the shelf life has come to an end at least for today.  Night all.

Not all the endorsements are still up.  My plea to Gov. Paterson to prove he’s not just another inadequate black male by nominating Harriet didn’t last 5 minutes.

Lawnguylander: Not sure what sign-in nick you used, but you can usually buy yourself another five minutes or so by using a name like “RevengeTabby” or “LeopardLady.”

I mean, I endorsed “Harriet Miers,” but my “CrazyCatLady” name appears to be acting as an Immunity Totem.

HTP: Are you attacking me, my religion, my pathetic shallowness, my constant whining or the quality of my personal commitment to the values and mission of Rumproast?

Strange, are you denying my right to attack you, your religion, your pathetic shallowness and constant whining?

Help, help! I’m bein’ oppressed!

[Sulks, writes dreadful poetry]

HTP: Yes, I am attacking you, defending myself, questioning your standing to question me, questioning my own knee-jerk responses to your non-attacks…and, unlike you, I AM FIGHTING THE *REAL* ENEMY, which IS dreadful poetry.

Until we ‘Roasters can stop the infighting and unite behind the things that brought us together in the first place (e.g., Brooklyn, trance music, circus families, etc.), I guess we’ll just have to KEEP BICKERING in the hopes that we can somehow disrespect and dick-slap one another forward in the pursuit of our “common mission” (TBD). 

Oh, and BTW, who are you calling a “racist”?

HTP: Now THIS is what I’m talking about. I want to see rage. I want to see hurt. I want to see crushing back-hands and ad hominem attacks. And I want to see one out of every three Rumproast regulars draft a blood-curdling exit opus:

KarenWI 12.27.08 at 5:21 pm

  I did not bring up this subject…. some others did by saying we should start our own church. Look back. If someone hadn’t said (and other seconded) the idea of founding our own church, I would not have said anything. Then, what I said was quickly countered, twisted, and attacked. Ok, I’m tired of this. This sort of childish behavior is not my idea of fun and games. Accusing someone of starting something that was started by someone else, and others going along with it, is bad enough- the criticism and attacks have done it as far as I’m concerned. I love this group and the people in it… and have put up with enough attacks. Like I posted earlier, I’ve had enough attacks on me because of being abused. I will only put up with so many more and that’s it. Goodbye.

Sometimes the cameraderie and good humor around here are just, well, stifling. We need some more drama-queen antics and peevish back-biting, chop-chop.

Dear So-Called Partner in the Struggle Against Whatever but Really a Sexist Puppy Squasher (also known as StrangeAppar8us),

I wish you’d stop passively aggressively attacking me for not attacking you especially after that nasty comment that I dreamed you made about my mother. (This was three years ago and even though I didn’t know you then, I know you now and now I know you really meant what you said when you said it in the dream.)

I demand an apology for your attack and the comment about my mother and the icky feelings I had after the dream in the form of a sonnet and the final couplet MUST include the word “homophobia.” If you won’t immediately comply with my more than reasonable request I shall be forced to pitch a Force 5 hissy fit and then blame you for the resulting flashbacks to my unhappy childhood.

Now if you’ll excuse me I must go lay down in a darkened room and listen to Meat is Murder fifty times in a row.

Dear Kevin K.: Please forward this post via Rumpmail to my potty-mouthed Once-Respected-But-Now-Totally-Consumed-With-Self-Pity-and-C ontemptible-Weeping-Victimhood Former-Comrade-in-Arms and (I *Thought*) Un-Petty Fellow Warrior-Spirit, HTP.

HTP: Judging from everything I’ve ever imagined you posting about me, I assumed you would be the LAST person to complain about imaginary slights that haven’t yet been dealt to you, by people whose unspoken criticisms of you were at least ON-TOPIC and would have—had I articulated them—been directed at the hopeless naivete apparent in your non-posted remarks, and NOT framed in the form of personal assaults on what I assume (but can’t illustrate) are your cloying suck-upness to the leader of this blog and your keening insistence that we all pay attention to you, as demonstrated in your rare and well-reasoned “stealth” comments, which craftily “appear” to be “non-confrontational” and “informative.”

You may be able to get away with that sort of mocking “helpfulness” and “bonhomie” over at YesToDemocracy, but my momma didn’t raise no midgets. I’ve been “around the block” more than a few times, and I can tell when “trusted commenter” is merely a cynical mask for “bed-wetting maniac assassin/traitor.”

In my work as an AA group therapy leader, Native American “Holy Person” and award-winning ballroom dancer, I’ve seen hundreds of “Denial Drunks” just like you stumbling through the twisted tango you call “honesty,” and I call “self-loathing serial killer.” 

And I don’t know (nor do I care) where you get YOUR dreams from, but I received mine after a 5-day “Vision Quest” in Utah’s scenic Monument Valley, where a talking coyote in a top hat warned me that a tall, hungry person whose name means “Arctic Infamy Moscow Guard Girl” would one day accuse me of fibbing about my fantastically “wowee” and endlessly-embroidered past.

I am done with you, HTP—and I am THIS close to leaving the blog forever. I mean it.

And if you want an apology in poetry, I suggest you direct your venom at WearingHobosFaces—although I must warn you that he/she/it is more than capable of taking care of his/her/itself.

Dear Fellow Rumproasters, EXCEPT the baby eating, sizeist unicorn killing mother stabbing cannibal known as StrangeAppar ATE US:

This is to inform you all that as much as I enjoy this blog I am afraid that in a day or two or three or four I will longer being able to visit due to the non-stop stream of constant non-attacks disguised as witty comments from a person whom I will not name because there is enough filth, hatred, ickiness, meanness, dwarf tossing and Starbucks running out of pumpkin spice latte mix in the world without degrading this blog by naming this person.

So farewell.


Unless you ask me really nicely to come back, wash my feet in your tears, tell me I’m the bestest and the smartest and utterly renounce and reject that OTHER person who continues to address me though in a past life I asked him to stop addressing me other than to say how great and totally awesome I am and I even went before Pharaoh Nuttinhonee and beseeched him for a restraining order because that “person” (for lack of a better term that I can use in polite company) is the sort of “person” who will continue to viciously persecute someone with “wit” and “humor” and “jokes” when he knows I wouldn’t recognize an amusingly off-beat comment if it jumped up and bit me on the goolies. And I ask you all to notice that he isn’t just doing it on this blog, but he has been STALKING me ACROSS TIME ITSELF. That’s right! I know what those cave paintings REALLY mean.

I see I will have no peace, EVER. So goodbye to all of you.


Just remember, every second that I’m not posting here, it’s because you’ve allowed someone who was Vlad the Impaler in a past life to post in this blog and I can’t bear to see you lured into the dark web of deceit that will ultimately end with your failure to remember that the world is a dark awful place where NOTHING is funny. EVER.

Did you guys miss me?

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN (by which I mean all attractive, self-actualized, comfortable-in-their-own-skins ‘Roasters who have chosen not to immolate themselves on the altar of poor-me wolf-crying infantilism and mewling life’s-unfair-so-give-me-a-lollipop attention-whoring):

Those of you who know me know that I have been a regular commenter here ever since Kevin K. started this blog in November. You also know that I have never used my own unspeakable childhood experiences and gag-inducing physical disabilities to curry sympathy, but only as a teaching tool and source of wisdom.

I have never disguised my passion, my unshakable personal beliefs…or the fact that I am only able to post on this blog by the grace of God and a surgically-constructed cranial blow-hole that enables me to operate my laptop PC/accordion. Nor have I ever used my gross infirmities to “one-up” or pre-empt the opinions of others on this site.

Lately, however, I have come under assault by one of our members (who, for the sake of anonymity, I will refer to only as “Hunger Tallest Palin”), the particulars of which are recorded above and, which are, frankly, fit only for the lowest form of pulp magazine.

I have NEVER attacked HTP, not have I ever been called a “sizeist” by ANY commenter—even on the AceOfSpades blog, where every poster seems to have been issued his own ruler, just for bragging purposes.

I am aware that some of you find HTP “funny” and “cerebral,” and that many have fallen under the spell of his “I-used-to-know-a-pharaoh” Shirley MacLaine/former life ooga-booga rap…and I understand that it’s the kind of talk that can be very bewitching. But I hereby challenge you all to answer me: WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH THE GRAND ‘ROASTER PLAN?

Are we standing together and fighting for something, or are we all content to roll over and hoist our necks and bellies up to the all-devouring God of man-crimes/woman-lynching? And why do I even have to ask this? Does all of Rumproast come down to one man with a pair of artificial hands and a funnel stuck in his skull, or are we mice?

And for those who accuse me of “stalking” them “through Time itself,” just be glad that I have chosen to resolve our differences a hundred years from now…instead of yesterday. 

Going forward, I would like to think that Rumproast is a safe haven for spritely, intelligent debate among both “normal” people and those of us whose brains—through no fault of our own—are fully exposed except for a chitinous exo-shell of woven carbon fibers.

I would also like to think that people like “HTP” will engage in fewer personal vendettas and direct their energies instead to the “RumpRodeo” Political Initiatives listed on RR’s Action Center.

Time is short, Our goals are in sight. This is the time for heroic cooperation—NOT degenerate, me-focused, dick-diddling, baby-rash waugh-waughhhhhhing.

And if you disagree, I—too—will quit this blog. No shit. I’ve had it. So there.

One more word out of any of youse, and I’m shooting all your dicks off!

Oh, for gawd’s sake STOP already, there is a point where your stomach just hurts with <strike>anger</strike> <strike>pain</strike> laughter, I mean “Can’t we all just get along?!!?”  I promise you, it’s OK.  We’ll have RumpProwls ready soon, we’ll blog again about the PUMAs, seriously it’s going to be all right!!!!

marindenver: He/she/it started it.

Kerry Reid: Don’t get all “Jennifer” on me. You can’t shoot the dick off a man who lives in a Petri dish. And besides, I studies martial arts when I still had a torso. Make my day.

I have lurked on this blog for many months, but I have never dared post until now.

I am only a small voice, and I have no history here. But I feel I MUST say that I find the level of personal animosity and low-rent sniping (especially on the part of HungerTallestPalin) to be EXTREMELY non-conducive to the sort of powerful group effort of which I believe Rumproast to be capable.

Having served as the personal care-giver of three years for an individual with an exposed brain and a pneumo-pulse-operated computer interface, I can attest that people without bodies are truly some of the most motivated and focused individuals I have ever known.

I am barely a “member” here, but I can only hope that the other ‘Roasters will open their eyes, leave their differences behind, and get down to the hard work of making Gov. Patterson the next President of the United States!

Be good to yourselves, and don’t let your niggling personal agendas divide you!

I am sad, and frightened. But when i come here I do not feel alone. I feel part of something bigger than all of us. I am going to go to my kitchen now… where I will hack a parsnip to pieces with a machete.


farmer—Don’t be sad and frightened. That’s what “they” use to make “us” “shit” our “pants.”

Strength is like a willow tree—big and green and mostly Round-Up Ready, if you used the right seeds.

Hoopa! I’m unstoppable (with corrections):

felicitas, on December 28th, 2008 at 6:07 am Said:

I am angry with everyone who says Harriet Christian has less experience than Caroline Kennedy. SO WHAT? America just elected a President who was never anything more than a community organizer, and many of us supported a woman who is Governor of a state with fewer people than the average good-sized county.

Harriet Christian is a WOMAN. And, more than that, she is a WOMAN who speaks for everyone who has ever been poor, or oppressed, or shot in the face by a masked vigilante called “El Caganer,” or forced to recite the alphabet backwards at the hands of men who call Obama “El Supremo.”


HTP and Strange: STOP STOP STOP!!!!!!!!!! I can’t bear it!! What has happened to what was supposed to be our all-caring, nurturing, healing place of refuge for our inner children to lay down our worldly cares and dialogue constructively about our wretched place in the unfair world where our still small voices are unrecorded on the bosom of time’s sweeping sands???”

When I think about Rumproast without either of you, a wave of stillness wells within me. I don’t think it was the eggnog, though for certain those eggs had been in the refrigerator a while. But we egg carriers bear more than our eggs, we bear responsibility to remake the world in the image of those we would subsume our very beings to!!!!! Which means no shooting off of things without general consensus!!!!!

And HTP, my brother/sister through some odd permutation of the space/time continuum, re the mother/baggies/rotting fruit thing: does she fold and iron wrapping paper? Save multi-lingual instructions from electronics “because it’s just a regular Rosetta stone! Look here where it says “every minute the colon will be twinkling!” Does she have, to put it delicately, something of a hollow leg?

Hoopa! I’m unstoppable (with corrections):

Ha!  I knew that was you.  I counted up the “endorsements” over there and about a good third appear to be from us.  Their whole thing has become an unwitting self parody almost before it got up and going.  A record I think. Just got up out of bed to wander around a bit, check the blog and all and now back to bed like a good little old baby boomer.

Now we’ll all just get Betty Cracker to whip us up some bourbon and dulce de leche shakes tomorrow and we’ll all be good friends again.  ;-)

I can’t believe this. I simply can’t believe this.

Here I am, a fat bloated sack of protoplasm who, due to ill treatment at the beak of an abusive pet parakeet, can only communicate with you by farting explosively at my keyboard and you all refuse to not turn on me with your non-attacking attacks.

Don’t be fooled by CannibalsRUs’ plea for pity. He got that way while he was doing something unspeakable to Care Bears with his good pal Louis XIV. You think the French Revolution began because some lead-coated tart* made a comment about cake? Idiots. And anyway, he only threatened to leave first because he got into his time machine (WHICH HE TOTALLY STOLE FROM ME) and saw that I was going to leave first if he didn’t stop with the vile vicious mean nasty and scary attacks disguised as “jokes.”

So unless you all take my side without fully understanding what’s going on, asking questions or EVER trying to make me see reason, I will continue to repeat my threats to leave.

I will unleash wave after wave of hyperbole to describe the gut-wrenching, soul-searing, mind-numbing sorrow and agony I feel because that “person” continues to parade his utter disregard for my feelings which are of course far more important than HIS feelings, your feelings, or the feelings of anyone who has or will have feelings now, then or at some point in the future. I’m not sure you actually have feelings anyway but for now I’ll assume your feelings are one’s of complete sympathy for me and hatred for Strange - oops, I mean, HIM.

Believe me, unlike others I could name, I am a reasonable man. I don’t want to engage in a distasteful display of unbridled emotion. I don’t want to exaggerate trivial events that have occurred in my many lifetimes/dreams/hallucinations in order to bludgeon you into total obedience with a sense of guilt that would paralyze a dozen devout Catholics. I don’t want to scream and whine and stomp AND USE FULL CAPS to get my way, but unlike some of the cowards who hang out and assault us all with wave after wave of humorous comments, I’M NOT AFRAID TO DO WHAT IT TAKES TO GET MY WAY. And if that doesn’t convince you to drop whatever you’re doing and flock to my defense for hours, days, weeks or however long it takes me to get sick of your clinging and cooing and coddling and turn on you like a mad dog, let me say this: Not only did I not get the second pony for my 10th birthday, my parents took me to a pony farm and made me watch while they chainsawed dozens and DOZENS OF HELPLESS PONIES.

And the guy who loaned them the chainsaw? It should come as no surprise that it’s the man who is trying to trick you with self-serving plays for your pity with comments like THIS:

Going forward, I would like to think that Rumproast is a safe haven for spritely, intelligent debate among both “normal” people and those of us whose brains—through no fault of our own—are fully exposed except for a chitinous exo-shell of woven carbon fibers.

Yeah, the kickback on that Husqvarna was a bitch, wasn’t it? TO THE BARRICADES!

*I’m allowed to describe women as tarts. A lesbian feminist friend of mine once laughed uneasily when I said it, so only sexist, heterocentric, Care Bear molesters would object to what would be sexist speech if anyone but me were saying it.

It makes me feel sad and mad and bad to read all this fighting!  So sad that I had to disconnect my respirator to cry for a minute.  So mad that I nearly tipped over my dialysis machine kicking the couch in rage.  So bad that I’m not sure I can still be part of the rumproast family.  Stop it before you make me start shooting at penises!

Instead, take a stroll through the sunny goldmine of unintentional hilarity that is “Plays by madamab”.  I had no idea the PUMAs had a playwright laureate.

Comment by sean on 12/28/08 at 02:08 PM
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