alibi.com
Alibi Bucks

humor


V.23 No.39 | 9/25/2014
A Load of Hooey

Arts Feature

We’re All a Bunch of Silly Billies

Bob Odenkirk on writing, weirdness and A Load of Hooey

By Genevieve Mueller

A Load of Hooey

Don’t call him Saul: Bob Odenkirk has a lot to tell the world—and most of it’s pretty silly.
View in Alibi calendar calendar
V.23 No.30 | 7/24/2014
Chomps will talk to you—if you’re food.
photos by Bruce Wong

Comedy Matters

Chomps the Cat Is Burque’s Sassiest Commentator

By Genevieve Mueller
She’s a cat who interviews food. Don’t ask it to make sense—just let the weirdness wash over you.
PRINT | EMAIL |
V.23 No.25 | 6/19/2014

news

The Daily Word in vodka, vaginas and X-rays.

By Carl Petersen [ Mon Jun 23 2014 11:08 AM ]
The Daily Word

Soccer fever may lead to other illnesses.

A German vagina sculpture trapped an ugly American.

The new X-ray gun can see what you’re hiding.

Introducing the $250 hangover cure.

Vodka erases bad smells as well as bad memories.

Jurassic Dog Park.

Stress causes heart attacks by over-producing white blood cells.

Times Square weirdos face a costume crackdown.

Are the French rude? Mais non!

There was a fatal hit-and-run at Carlisle and Indian School.

I’m guilty, I killed her.

There was a fatal crash on 2nd Street.

What’s happening in Albuquerque today?

Mushy sparks flew when I saw you.

Happy birthday, Bryan Brown.

Add a Comment
V.23 No.23 | 6/5/2014

Book Review

Jumpin' Shitcakes!, Right?

Review by Holly von Winckel

Pete, Drinker of Blood

Pete, Drinker of Blood might not be Scott S. Phillips’ most recent hilarious novel, but it’s the one we had.
PRINT | EMAIL |
V.23 No.18 | 5/1/2014

Comedy Matters

Coding Humor

A professor, a reporter and comedy

By Genevieve Mueller [ Tue Apr 29 2014 4:51 PM ]
In The Humor Code, Peter McGraw and Joel Warner travel the world testing their theory about comedy and asking questions about what makes something funny.
Add a Comment
V.23 No.11 | 3/13/2014
T.J. Miller
TheeErin via Wikimedia Commons

Comedy Matters

T.J. Miller, Vulnerability and the Mind of a Comic

By Genevieve Mueller
Genevieve Mueller dishes on lessons learned in comedy clubs and onstage.
V.23 No.1 | 1/2/2014

Book Review

Boner Killer

Review by Ruby Le Coq

God's Doodle: The Life and Times of the Penis

The world has been ruled by men since the beginning of recorded history, and men’s thoughts have been ruled by their genitals for almost as long.
PRINT | EMAIL |
V.22 No.41 | 10/10/2013

GIF me a break

5 Reasonable Burque Reactions to the Balloon Fiesta

By Lisa Barrow [ Wed Oct 9 2013 11:17 AM ]
Every year, Albuquerque’s Balloon Fiesta brings lots of good, and lots of less-than-good, to our fair city.
Add a Comment
V.22 No.33 | 8/15/2013
Jack Handey
Brad Wilson

Arts Feature

Jack Handey is Real

And he is funnier than you

By Genevieve Mueller

The Stench of Honolulu: A Tropical Adventure

To all would-be comedians: Jack Handey of “Deep Thoughts” fame did it 30 years ago, he did it smarter than you, and he continues to be funnier than you.
V.22 No.30 | 7/25/2013
Ray Bodden via Compfight cc

Wilde Humor

Hot, Hot, Hot

By M.J. Wilde
M.J. Wilde reflects on the sweltering New Mexico heat.

Book Review

It’ll Make You Beg for Seconds

Review by Jyllian Roach

Cinnamon and Gunpowder

Ahoy! Raise a pint of pineapple-banana cider to this review of a rollicking new tale.
V.22 No.26 | 6/27/2013
Virginia Zurí as La Malinche in 1933 Mexican film La Llorona

Opinion

La-la-la-la Llorona

The T.V. Queen on the weeping woman

By M.J. Wilde
M.J. Wilde, aka The T.V. Queen, pens her inaugural humor column for the Alibi and considers La Llorona.
V.20 No.49 | 12/8/2011
Kinky Friedman explains the interpersonal skills required to be a Wal-Mart greeter.
Brian Khanki

Spotlight

The Jewish Cowboy

Kinky Friedman on music, satire and Rick Perry's hair

By Samantha Anne Scott
Lone Star state raconteur and troubadour Kinky Friedman stops in Santa Fe on his 14-city Hanukkah Tour.
Google Earth icon Map Icon
PRINT | EMAIL |
V.19 No.33 |
John Bear's big left toe. Cleans floors, fights crime.
filmreference.com
John Bear's big left toe. Cleans floors, fights crime.

humor, footcare

My left foot...hurts

The unsupplied bachelor

By John Bear [ Mon Aug 23 2010 8:46 PM ]

Number 53 of 101 things I need around the house: bandages.

I’ve been a bachelor now for longer than I’ll admit to anyone. With no woman around to keep me from completely self-destructing, what was once a pad is now a hovel. The freezer is packed full of frozen meals that seemed like a good idea at the time but now collect frost and cold resistant parasites. Hot dogs made of three or more kinds of animal are a prime example. I’m not going to eat them, but feel too guilty to throw them away, so many lowly beasts lost their lives.

The most recent tragedy to befall single me is the savagery visited upon my left big toe. I was trying to be a “grown up” and put sheets on my bed rather than sleeping on a pile of laundry when something sharp entered my toe. It felt like a paperclip being pushed into a rubber eraser.

The blood began to flow like oil from a deep sea rig. I felt around and extracted a pinky finger sized piece of a compact fluorescent light bulb.

Ah, the compact fluorescent lightbulb. I bought about fifty of the things during the last year in an attempt at being more green. They remind me of soft-serve ice cream and are supposed to last ten years.

Problem: they keep exploding and showering my apartment with glass. Perhaps it’s the scary 1930s electrical wiring. A plumber built the building. Freaky.

I am a terrible house cleaner and always seem to miss a piece. Luckily, my feet are like natures Swiffer Sweeper, only with the added absorbency of soft flesh. An x-ray of my feet must surely resemble a Rhine Stone Cowboy.

As I glanced at the stigmata on my big toe, the piggy that went to market, I couldn’t help but wonder how much mercury once contained in the light bulbs now courses through my veins. I knew there was a reason I like hats so much.

I frantically searched the house for something that could serve as a bandage. After locating a bottle of rubbing alcohol, I swabbed off the wound. My bedroom and bathroom floors began to resemble a crime scene. The alcohol stung and the pomegranate shampoo with which I washed the wound was no picnic either. I think I’ll buy Mountain Strawberry next time.

Tape seemed like it would serve as a suitable bandage until the next day, when I could score some Johnson and Johnson, or a comparable house brand. All there I had, unfortunately, was duct tape. Something about duct tape seemed fatal. I prefer scotch tape but none could be found.

In the end, I settled for a clean wife-beater shirt. The shoulders made fairly good attachments; my foot looks like Liam Neeson’s face in “Darkman.” I cleaned the abattoirs-like floor in the bathroom and called it a night. Sometimes I feel so handy. I can’t believe I’m still single.

Add a Comment
PRINT | EMAIL |
"Pray that there's intelligent life somewhere out in space, 'Cause there's bugger all down here on Earth!"--Eric Idle, The Meaning of Life.
wow-tube.ru
"Pray that there's intelligent life somewhere out in space, 'Cause there's bugger all down here on Earth!"--Eric Idle, The Meaning of Life.

cosmology, religion, humor

The Passion of the Quantum Singularity

Warning: Screed follows

By John Bear [ Sat Aug 21 2010 8:43 PM ]

All praise is due unto the Grand Unified Theory and the intolerant hairless apes that hath spawned it.

It’s a shame that a bunch of white wing (deliberate Freudian slip) Christians don’t want an Islamic community center in an old Burlington Coat Factory in Manhattan, even though by protesting against one, they contradict the very freedoms they hold dear. I guess they don’t realize what an ugly and irrational force hate can be.

At the same time, I can’ t help but think I’m sick of people arguing about who has the better version of the invisible-man-in-the-sky who-invented-all-of-creation story. Whoever S/he is, S/he isn’t amused. I’m not into any of this, and it’s taking up too much airtime, especially since most of these people seem to hate the same things: immigrants, homosexuals, women and each other.
Seriously, unemployment is high, we are still involved in one and a half wars, and the earth appears to officially be broken. My cable news has been invaded by the Wholly Irrelevant.

Besides, believing in an omniscient being that obsesses over this tiny rock, which amounts to the western Oklahoma of the universe, seems silly when the size of it can be measured and it’s age calculated, and it’s very very big, thirteen billion light years wide. Hubris.

Solution: I’ve been watching space shows on the Science Channel, and the History Channel, when it’s not playing shows about the DaVinci Code. Some of this space stuff is so hard to fathom, it might as well be a religion.
Because I am sick and tired of religion and the animosity it creates, I propose . . . a new religion for all of humanity based on what I have learned watching basic cable.

My glorious new religion shall be called “Big Bangism,” and it’s adherents, Big Bangers, after the widely accepted theory that the universe sprang into existence from a tiny point in the black void of nothingness--or something like that; I can’t remember; I wasn’t really paying attention. Don’t drag me down with your damn details. The devil is in those. This is faith, dammit.

To keep things interesting, humans can argue about the exact title of the new religion. Half of the people can refer to this exciting new cosmology as “Giant Explosionism,” though Giant Explosioners are generally smelly heathen with no class. But I appreciate their right to worship as they please. It’s not me who will have to answer to the Supermassive Black Hole when it engulfs us all in it’s glorious and all powerful event horizon. Amen.

That’s the beauty part of watching these shows: half of the episodes focus on space objects that may one day destroy us all, so the apocalyptic angle is covered. In addition to rogue black holes, there are gamma ray bursts from the poles of stars going supernova, giant rocks, and, I suppose, malevolent species of aliens.

Come, brothers and sisters. Abandon your old-fangled ways and embrace some new-fangled ones. It’s really hard to understand, but that’s the beauty of religion: Why have understanding when you can have faith. I am reminded of a time when I was mocking a piece of duct tape purported to show an image of Jesus. I was told, with disdain for my obvious lack of it, “It’s faith, John.” This particular image of Jesus, by the way, is available if you’re interested, on Ebay. May he who hath the highest bid emerge triumphant. Praise the Black Hole and pass the Strong Electromagnetism. Amen.


Add a Comment
View desktop version