Jonesy's 2009 Xmas Wishlist...

I made this for my grandma. but you can watch it too.

"Dirty Cops, Dirty Diapers"

Courtesy of the 48Hour Film Project.

Poster...

From the archives: Well ... I definitely tanked THAT audition....

There comes a time in most people's lives when they have to accept reality. It stings but sometimes it's necessary to accept your fate and just move on. My realization?...

I was never meant to be a Knight at Medieval Times.

Every year auditions are held. The best and brightest and most desperate actors show up in masses to fight for that one slot... that one chance at glory.... to prance around in equestrian glory... in front of a bunch of tourists eating baked chicken.

Upon my arrival to the audition, I quickly gauge the competition. I am confident even though I'm about 100 lbs heavier than everyone else. Oh, and I've never ever ridden a horse in my entire life. These are minor details. After all, it's all about the PASSION.

They assigned all of us a number that we pinned onto our chests. Much like entering a marathon. They then divided us into two groups. Strangely, the two groups did not equal in number. My group consisted of about 4 or 5 people and we ranged from an ex-Romanian basketball player, a 70-year-old retired trucker from Alabama, a Sri Lankan named Hergdeesh, a housewife from the South Side, and myself. The other group was anywhere between 20-30 people. I haven't figured that one out. I guess there was a math error or something. But anyway...

The first part of the audition consisted of a monologue. I had no idea about this and totally didn't prepare anything. As my turn got nearer and nearer I was racking my brain trying to come up with something, anything that would suffice as a monologue. When my number was called I found myself just launching into jokes I remembered from Eddie Murphy "Delirious". They cut me off about 2 minutes into it just when I was getting to a great line about turds floating in the bathtub. Apparently, Medieval Times is a PG-rated family show. They always wait until the last fucking minute to tell you these kinds of things.

So then we move onto some basic weapons and theatrical combat. I figure if there was an area in which I would blow away the competition... this would be it. I was very very wrong. First, they pitted two of us against each other. We are both handed fake styrofoam swords. And they tell us to just take it nice and easy and that they are just evaluating our grace and poise. Well, they ring the bell and I immediately chunk my fake sword off to the side and lunge towards my opponent. After a nice sweep-the-leg I manage to bring the other dude down to the mat. I proceed with a few elbow drops and attempt a figure-four-leglock. Suddenly, there is a rush of people pulling me off this guy. Apparently, they frown upon "improv" at these auditions.

The final round of the auditions consist of the horse-back riding skills. Like I said earlier I completely lied about my equestrian training. Sometimes you have to fidge a little on your resume in the acting biz. Everyone does it. Dog eat dog.

So I realize my first mistake was stating that I have 10+ years as an advanced rider and once earned a collegiate scholarship to Dartmouth for "horse jumping". But I figure I can probably just wing it.

My turn for the riding audition quickly approaches. I am told that I have been assigned to a horse named " Volcano Spitfire Amphetamine". Cool, no problem. He sounds like a gentle angel.

Again, keeping with the ruse that I am a horseback riding "pro"... I refuse any help mounting my steed. As the chute opens it only takes about 1/8 of a second to realize that all they want to see is that I can ride in a straight line ... and that the spurs I brought along with me are COMPLETELY un-necessary. So the horse and I come bucking out of the chute and I soon realize there was absolutely no reason for me to have wrapped my hand in the bridle reigns. I am quickly thrown from the horse's back and flung to the ground... yet my hand is still caught in the leather straps. As I'm being dragged around the arena with my face tilling the soft American dirt... I start contemplating just what IS art and is it worth alot of the pain and anguish involved in bringing it to the masses. As my body is flung violenty into the metal barricade separating the audience from the performers... I start pondering the works of Aristophanes and what truly defines performance and comedy. Finally, as I feel the prick of the IV in my arm and the sudden rush of adrenaline as my femur is jammed back into place... I think to myself ... you know maybe I should think about getting into radio.



-Jonesy

From the archives: Illinois Senator Dick Durbin responds to Jonesy's concerns...

The Old Negro Space Program

A classic. By Andy Bobrow.

From the archives: "What the world needs right now is more movies co-starring orangutans"

I wanted to share this yesterday on Sept. 11 because I truly believe it's something for the whole world to get behind during troubled times like this. But I refrained from my preaching until today Sept 12 out of respect for others.

Folks, we need more movies featuring the hilarious antics of orangutans. This is not a joke. I am very serious. Go back in time with me if you will. The 1970s. A glorious time when pant legs were enormous and no one bothered shaving ... anywhere.

It was during this time that Hollywood come up with a brilliant idea. Pair up an iconic badass actor like Clint Eastwood with an orangutan named Clyde ... and just let the cameras role. The results being the Oscar-worthy films Every Which Way But Loose and its sequel-in-crime Any Which Way You Can.

And the fans laughed. And it was good.

That wacky grin when Clyde showed his teeth. They way the he would flutter its lips, wear a funny hat, or just unload and slap someone in the face. Pure gold.

Sadly, the momentum of this celluloid phenomenon was short-lived. Just as soon as the orangutans burst on the scene ... they soon faded. Yes, there was a brief orangutan cameo in Cannonball Run 2. But let's face it .. he was paired with Tony Danza. I only need to see one ape hamming it up on screen. Not two.

The years began to pass and the orangutan was still nowhere to be found. Sure, there was the movie Dunston Checks In .. but let's face it .. it just wasn't the same.

So, I am calling out to you, people. Write to the studios and your members of congress.

Let's bring back the orangutan.

Burt Reynolds thanks you.


-Jonesy

From the archives: "Okay, so I bought a Big Wheel off eBay..."

Yes that's right. I bought a classic retro Big Wheel for roughly $40. Just like this one...



Now, the item description clearly states that the toy is for children ages 3-8 and has a weight limit of 70 lbs. These are two MINOR details I chose to ignore. This is America after all not communist China.

I placed the order and anxiously awaited its delivery. After a few days of stalking the mail carrier ... it finally arrived. Oddly, the box did not come in the shape of a Big Wheel. This alarmed me. This box was a tight, heavy rectangle. Much like cardboard boxes you've seen homeless people living in or someone breakdancing on. I digress.

I rip open the box to reveal a brightly colored jumbled mess. Fuck me, assembly required. So, I clear a space in the living room and get to work. I quickly admire the plastic craftmanship ... something that was simply not appreciated as a seven-year-old kid hopped up on Skittles and Laffy Taffy.

After several hours, a dinner break, and a power nap ... I had finished construction on what would be dubbed "Jonesy's Mean Machine".

I stepped back to admire the blazing red and yellow chick-magnet that lay before me. It was time to ride.

After some brief stretching exercises I slowly ease myself into position. The plastic begins to quiver and creak like the planks aboard the Titanic. I hold my breath and pause. Slowly I shift myself back into the seat and bring one leg over the steering column. My knees are now positioned directly in front of my eyelids. I can taste the dried mustard on my pants from two days ago. I have just invented a new yoga position: The Uncomfortable Retard.

Denying myself the reality of the situation ... I vow to continue.

I extend my legs just enough to gently place the edges of my feet upon the peddles. Praying to the gods of inertia ... I manage some semblance of a rotating action with my legs causing the front wheel to begin its revolutions. The combination of plastic, hard wood floors, and 200 lbs of midnight pizzas and Cartoon Network left very little room for torque. The Big Wheel did not budge.

I began a desperate pelvic thrust hoping that would get things moving. My toy humping proved fruitless. Gravity had failed me.

Exhausted, I felt a mixed bag of emotions as the tears began to stream down my face. Saddness turned to rage. Back and forth until I had pounded the wall and cried myself to sleep.

I have learned from my experience. People were meant to grow out of their toys. Maybe I can find some other fuel for my nostalgia. A Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine perhaps. Perhaps. Some day.

But for now ... I have to figure out how to get a Big Wheel out of my neighbor's tree.


-Jonesy

How about a round of applause for the FBI's "image speculation" department?

A few days ago the FBI nabbed one of their Most Wanted fugitives. His story can be found here.

This dude was on the lam for 15 years. And I think I understand why.

Here is what he used to look like:



This is what some FBI graphics department intern in D.C. thinks he might have looked like (note the state-of-the-art technology using millions of taxpayer dollars):



And this is the reality:




Keep on truckin', Hoover.

-Jonesy

Jonesy's Music Review: Steven Seagal & Thunderbox "Talk To My Ass" (2006)

Title = hilarious. Song = awful.



-Jonesy

Crippling Discomfort: A Lunch-Hour Quest for BBQ Nachos.

The idea was innocent enough. So we thought. What better way for three guys to tackle the end-of-the-week hunger pangs than by combining two culinary favorites into one economically-sound meal. The math is simple: tortilla chips, covered in melted cheese, topped with a pile of smoked pulled pork BBQ. Yeah, I know what you're thinking...how could we not see trouble coming a mile away. Well, I can say the same thing about your bran muffin, Mister Healthy. So, shut up.

Everything went down fine at first. No surprises, taste buds still intact. But that was to be the calm before the storm. Here, now, are the email transcripts in chronological order (names changed to protect the innocent):

"Marty" (1:57pm): Man, I'm full.
"Brett" (1:58pm): Yeah me too.
"Rick" (1:59pm): Shouldn't have finished the entire plate.

"Marty" (2:10pm): I might need a nap.
"Brett" (2:12pm): No kidding. Glad it's Friday.
"Rick" (2:13pm): My stomach just made a "barking" sound.

"Marty" (3:02pm): I just let a fart rip in front of our VP-International Sales.
"Brett" (3:05pm): Whoa don't get fired. Maybe you should go home early...
"Rick" (3:11pm): I can't stop sweating. This can't be good.

"Marty" (3:37pm): Okay I thought I was fine but I'm definitely not. I had to take my pants off.
"Brett" (3:38pm): Haha. Told ya. This dude I work with came by my desk and asked if I was doing okay because I was breathing so heavily. I told him to f*ck off.
"Brett" (3:39pm): Where's Rick?
"Marty" (3:40pm): Dunno.

"Rick" (4:43pm): I've been in the bathroom for the past hour. My boss called the fire department because she thought I was dying. I'm lying in the floor of the lobby as we speak with a cold wet towel over my forehead. our receptionist is looking through my wallet for a number for my next-of-kin. everything I see is purple. it feels like a pack of wolverines is gnawing through my stomach...but I can't move a muscle because I'm paralyzed from the dehydration. if I don't make it I at least want to have documentation of my last words and they are....Marty and Brett, f*ck you for making me eat BBQ nachos. see ya'll on Monday..hopefully.

My goal is to eradicate this carrots n' raisins crap from our planet...one salad bar at a time.

Gross.

-Jonesy

Communication is KEY in the world of business...

Source: Classified.


-Jonesy

"The Yard Bull"

Chalk me up as a fan.

Happy 4th of July!

Ahhh. Feels good to be back in Little Rock where "nothing exciting happens."

(**The image above is taken from the 1986 made-for-TV movie "Under Siege" filmed in LR. It's just make-believe, people. Don't freak out on me.**)

-Jonesy

Awake from my nap.

I have things I want to say. And I like to pretend that people are listening. After a little mental fiber...let's see if I can get things flowing again. Stay tuned. :-)

-Jonesy

Oh, man. We can TOTALLY take these guys.

"McRib"

I want to be the guy who gets to name the monster trucks when they are born.

-Jonesy