Gut Shot

Lazy Photographers Take Advantage of Lazy Americans

This holiday season, retailers aren’t the only ones looking to cash in. As millions of eager shoppers file into malls looking for the perfect gift for that uncle they only see at Christmas and funerals, scores of national TV news producers and local station managers are poring over hours of stock video footage for their annual “Story about fat people eating too much at the holidays.”

And the people to whom they turn are the Clandestine Fat Midsection Stock Photographers, a group of video professionals who specialize in capturing the ubiquitous belly and ass shots of obese men, women and children. The trick is in strategically obscuring their faces, thus protecting their identities and absolving the user from having to pay talent fees that would just go towards another Mr. Wang’s All-You-Can-Eat Super Deluxe Buffet anyway.

“The holiday season and all of the eating that goes with it is really our bread and butter,” said videographer Chet Hankins, unaware of his terrible pun. “Sitting around in the late summer months waiting for royalties can be tough.”

That’s not to say that these artists don’t experience the fruits of their labor any other time of the year, however. “Swimsuit season is usually a pretty lucrative time, too,” Hankins added. “If you’re hawking an Ab Roller® or Total Gym™, you’re likely going to need some of our footage. Fat people have to be reminded that they’re fat. And we do that beautifully.”

But it’s during the holidays, where gorging has become a tradition all its own, when people like Chet enjoy the biggest payday. As news reporters clamber to be the first to offer up cleverly titled fluff stories like “Tips For Avoiding Holiday Waist” and “Ho-Ho-Hold The Mayo”, the videographers’ checks start rolling in. “It’s always a happy time around my house. My family relies on me to bring home the bacon, and November through January, I really deliver,” said Hankins, unable to speak in anything but food metaphors.

So as long as Americans keep stuffing their faces and providing people like Chet with plenty of video fodder, newsmen everywhere will continue to have the pictures they need to remind us of what overindulgent pigs we all are. A true “win-win-win” this “ho-ho-holiday season.”

Holiday Heroes

Santa Claus
Known For: Delivering toys to every good girl and boy on the planet over the course of a single night.

Strengths: Commanding and controlling magical reindeer; Bending/freezing the time-space continuum; Evading detection by hostile radar and surface-to-air missile installations in Eastern Europe, Asia and the Middle East; Sweatshop management; Breaking and entering.

Weaknesses: Cookies; Milk; Cabin fever.



Baby New Year
Known For: Ringing in the New Year with a fresh, new hope.

Strengths: Uniting the entire world with an all-encompassing optimism; Consistently avoiding indecent exposure fines; Being a cute little baby of nursing age on a night filled with drunken hot chicks. (While not technically a “strength”, certainly a “plus”).

Weaknesses: Advanced Progeria



The Easter Bunny
Known For: Bringing toys to children and strategically hiding eggs to mark the celebration of the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Strengths: Dyes; Backyard topography; Stealth; Superhuman toting strength; Immeasurable hopping speed; Basket arranging.

Weaknesses: Kids with .22 caliber rifles; Cross-town traffic; Foxes.



The Great Pumpkin
Known For: Not bringing toys to the good girls and boys in whatever town it is that Charlie Brown lives; Annually breaking the heart of Linus Van Pelt.

Strengths: Mind control of blanket-carrying wussies; Charisma; Mastery of false hope; Sadism.

Weaknesses: High school punks; Fruit flies; Prolonged exposure to sunlight; Grandmothers with extra large pie pans.


Year-Round Bonus Heroes:



The Sandman
Known For: Putting people to sleep (in the good way, mostly).

Strengths: Covert operations; Neurological manipulation; Worldwide acceptance.

Weaknesses: Ambien; Skittish bed-wetters; motion sensors.



The Tooth Fairy
Known For: Exchanging money for newly lost baby teeth.

Strengths: Global tooth monitoring; Logistics; Connecting with children; Flying; Finances; Tooth disposal.

Weaknesses: Fairy bullies; Cats; High winds.

An Interview with a Ventriloquist

Q: First of all, I’ve got one ground rule right off the bat. I’m asking YOU questions, not the doll on your lap. I’d kindly ask that since YOU are the one I’m talking to, that YOU be the one to answer the questions. Fair enough?

A: Uh, sure I guess. But Mr. Corky McSherwood sometimes interrupts. I never know when he might jump in there with a comment or something. Isn’t that right, Mr. Mc…

Q: Whoa! Hold it right there. That’s exactly what I’m talking about. None of that mess. I’m a grown man, here. Please treat me as such.

A: OK. I’ll do what I can.

Q: How did you first get into ventriloquism?

A: Well, as a child, I had a lot of imaginary friends. Mostly to make up for my lack of real friends. I used to talk to them a lot, but they never talked back. Well, at least out loud. They talked to me in my head a lot. Still do, actually.

Q: So you decided to give them a voice?

A: Yeah, and I discovered rather quickly that I had a knack for speaking without making my lips move. Watch. Ith you jes hole your lits atart a lil dit an let your tongue do da work dehind your teeth, es easy to tool your audience into tinking da doice is conning tron sonwhere else.

Q: Amazing. When did you first perform for an audience?

A: I was nine years old. I got honorable mention in my church’s Honorable Mention Talent Show.

Q: Do you think ventriloquism is a dying art?

A: Around here it seems to be. But I tend to look at the positive side of it. That just means there are more birthday parties, VFWs and Bar Mitzvahs for me.

Q: Working so many different events, you must meet some really interesting people. As a ventriloquist, do you date much?

A: As a ventriloquist, no. But as a single guy living in Beaver Falls, well…no.

Q: How do you want to be remembered?

A: As a guy who just wanted to bring a little happiness into the lives of those he came into contact with, regardless of the restraining order.

Airport Shoe Shine Haiku

Thirty thousand feet
Is no place to have smudged shoes.
You’re a lifesaver!

Dateline: Seaside. Money Can’t Buy Me Taste.

Well, outside of Beverly Hills, here’s something you certainly don’t see every day. A $395,000 Rolls Royce Phantom.



Spying this thing just sitting in a gravel parking lot was like running into a co-worker in a massage parlor. The initial recognition is there, but it’s so out of context, it takes you a while to process the information. Except that, upon seeing the Phantom, you don’t have to offer up something lame like, “Oh…hey…yeah…um, good to see you. I’m, uh, I’m just here because of this kink I’ve had in my back for the last week. You know…the one you’ve probably heard me talking about around the office? The kink, you know, in my back? Remember me talking about it? I probably talk about it all kinds of times.”

But even covered in birdshit from sitting uncovered beneath a tree for what appears to have been weeks, this is still an impressive machine. (By the way, anybody who would buy this kind of car and just leave it to the ravages of a heron’s bowels should be professionally evaluated.)

I’ve never been a star-struck kind of person. I don’t understand the attraction to celebrity. As such, I’ve never been an autograph hound or amateur paparazzi. I hate those people and could never be one. But seeing a 2007 Phantom in person is a far cry from standing in line at Target behind Frankie Muniz, and there is no shame in gawking.

Standing beside it, I almost got chills. I was afraid to touch it, hell, afraid to even breathe on it. And this was AFTER Jonathon Livingston Seagull had already defiled it in such unspeakable ways. But all it took was a glance inside to put all my paranoia to rest.



Yep. A half million dollar car that you treat like a yard dog and you still can’t avoid the allure of the $2.99 Fish ‘n Chips Lunch Platter. En route to a multi-million dollar house in an exclusive beachfront community for an extended stay, and you have to pull into the drive-thru in DeFuniak Springs between a Ford Fusion and a Honda Del Sol. I mean, if nothing else, where the hell is your pride? Not to mention your regard for your cardiopulmonary system.

But to each his own, I guess. If I had the kind of jack this dude is pulling down, I’d probably not give a crap either.

Dateline: Seaside. Red Wine Festival 2007. The Year of the Lesbian.

For the second straight year, I made the trek south to Florida's Gulf Coast for an adults-only weekend at the Seaside Red Wine Festival. Last year, I was somewhat overwhelmed by the fact that every time I turned around I didn’t have one of my kids tugging on my leg or yelling in my ear. As a result, I probably missed out on a lot of what the festival has to offer.

This year, I was more prepared to embrace my newfound freedom, rather than be taken aback by it. And I saw the gathering much more for what it truly is: A big lesbian free-for-all.

I’m not here to bash the lesbians. They were all very well behaved and seemed to be enjoying themselves very much. They in no way interfered with my ability to drink beer or pee, which is pretty much all my weekend boiled down to anyway. It’s just that, sociologically speaking, it was fascinating to watch.

Probably because I wasn’t expecting it, and the realization of what was going on was a slow process. It wasn’t like pulling your camper into Burning Man and seeing a couple of dudes on a tandem bike wearing nothing but bare-assed chaps and peacock hats right off the bat. No, this was a much more subtle thing.

A spiked hairdo browsing the oil paintings on the sidewalk. A popped Izod collar tucked beneath a silver-streaked mullet. A pair of long denim shorts and construction boots clomping between the picnic blankets. It took a little time for it to all come together amidst the drunken tomfoolery that was my group of friends. But then it hit me like a ton of LPGA players. And I was intrigued.

What brought them here, of all places? There are plenty of outdoor festivals this time of year. Lots of places that have wine tastings and great food. Seaside doesn’t have a bowling alley. There’s not a softball field within 10 miles. Surely to God Melissa Etheridge was playing somewhere like Branson, Missouri. I couldn’t figure it out.

Actually, I still can’t. But that’s only because I tired of that little exercise about three minutes into it. Life’s too short to figure out the lesbians.

A Sign From Above

You ever have one of those months where you start to question everything about your life? What you're doing, why you're doing it and wondering if any of it even matters? Welcome to my October. With such heady questions bouncing around in my melon, it should come as no surprise that updating this blog was at the bottom of my "To-do" list. In fact, it was at the top of my "Why even bother doing it at all?" list. Nothing seemed funny. I was starting to lose it.

And just when I was about to hit the "Delete" key and send this web page to the trash heap of failed internet endeavors, I come across this little gem:


I swear, it's like some higher power intervened to show me that things can be funny again. And that you can find meaning in the world without even trying. He showed me the way and the way was good. Or maybe it's just that the good folks at Mouse Works Publishing royally screwed the pooch on this one. Either way, I'm on the road to recovery.