Monday, March 30, 2009

The top five movies...Sham Wow! She bit me!

So I ignore most of the Facebook apps that people send me, or that I see on other people's status updates.

But I am a sucker for top five lists. Anytime I can rank five anythings, I am all over it.

Top three? Forget it. Unfulfilling.

Top 10? Too demanding.

But top five, I am a complete sucker. Five best hotties. Five best insults. Five best insects. Five worst sexual encounters. Five worst elevator stories. Five best wheelchair prostitutes. Five best spider money jokes.

You get the idea.

So I couldn't resist the five best movies thing that was going around.

Unfortunately, you just list them; there is no way to comment. So I feel the need to defend/explain my choices, since it went out to my 240-plus friends.

1) Pulp Fiction: We've already brought out the Gimp. Maybe we should have sent in the Wolf.

Samuel L. makes the whole thing worthwhile.

"You ever read the Bible Ringo? There's this passage I've got memorized...

You're the weak."

The cameos are awesome -- especially Christopher Walken, Eric Stoltz and Harvey Keitel.

Bizarre, clever, funny, violent, hip. A perfect Freddy movie.

2) Shawshank Redemption -- No real explanation needed; this is almost a perfect movie. Nothing sugarcoated or glossed over. Tim Robbins is perfectly cast; so too is Morgan Freeman. At its truest essence, it is a buddy movie.

If you haven't seen it, then shame on you.

3) Goodfellas -- The Henry Hill saga features some of the best acting you'll see anywhere. Ray Liotta is unbelievable; DeNiro was still DeNiro; Pesci's character was delightfully violent. The use of music as a device to move the plot was copied for years by other directors. Interestingly, Casino featured many of the same actors. It was really "Goodfellas go to Vegas." I once knew a colleague who liked it better, because he saw it before Goodfellas.

He was an idiot then and is still an idiot.

4) Rounders -- This is one you might not have seen. Go rent it right now and report back to me immediately. Matt Damon is terrific, Edward Norton is over the top, but the whole show is Teddy KGB, played by John Malkovich. He is essentially in two scenes, but the entire movie revolves around him.

Great supporting performances by John Turturro and Gretchen Mol, who plays the most dislikeable girlfriend in history.

There is only one flaw in the movie -- when Petra visits Mike and he asks her to leave. (If you don't know what that is about, see the second sentence).

5) Reservoir Dogs -- Another brilliantly done Quentin Tarantino movie. Of course, he's gone downhill since Pulp, but how could he not?

The brilliantly evil Mr. Blonde. The smarmy Mr. Orange. The annoyingly brusque Mr. Pink.

It ends the only way it possibly could.

Yes, it's violent. (I'm sorry, I LOVE the ear scene. I think it's hilarious). Yes, it's over the top.

I love it.

Notice a trend? Violence. Hidden humor. Criminals. Hmmm....what does that say about me?

Don't answer that.

What do you think of my five?


OK, if you haven't seen it, the Sham Wow guy got himself in trouble with a prostitute.

Vince Schlomi is his real name, and he's a 44-year-old pitchman. Apparently, the Pay Per View (euphemism for lady of the evening) bit his tongue and refused to let go, which started a fight.

Schlomi sells the Sham Wow and the Slap Chop on those annoying infomercials. You've seen them.

It's unclear whether he used either during the fracas, but we will guess she was less than Wow'ed by his Slap Chop.

Regardless, you can order them both for $19.99 plus shipping and handling.

He must have sold quite a few. The Pay Per View cost $1,000.

We assume the tongue biting was part of the deal.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Adios, amigos...DFD...I need a gimp...

First, please check out the Examiner commentary for my sports takes. I get paid per click, so please help the young man out.

Also, I am not going to comment on the Chronicle's editorial cuts until Sunday's show, so if you want that, you will have to tune in. I will say it seems pointless to make people walk the plank off the Titanic after it has already hit the iceberg. But what do I know?

Regardless, vaya con dios to those who are gone. To those remaining? I honestly give it three years max before one of the proudest and most historic businesses in our city is gone forever.

As far as non-editorial of my dearest friends -- and one of their best salespeople -- was also cut.

If CC can't sell ads for you, then you are already dead. You are just preserving your own meaningless, loser existences for another year or so. See you in the soup line, dickweeds.

Enough of that. Let's have some fun...


A couple of people have asked what the "DFD" references are on the shows.

I would google the lyrics to "You're Gonna Go Far Kid" by the Offspring and you will figure it out.
(Make sure you are over 18). It refers to the "Dance..." line.

It's an inside joke, but almost everyone will identify with it.

Feel free to join Team DFD...


Thanks to Brandy
, I think I need a Gimp.

I posted a weird response on her blog that was basically an obvious reference to Pulp Fiction wrapped around a subtle reference to the same movie.

But it has me thinking: I need a gimp. Someone to chain up, dress in a weird black outfit and keep in my basement.No, I would not want the Gimp for use in Russell's Ropin' Room. I would just love to have an instant servant.

Need someone to get me a beer? Bring out the Gimp.

Need someone to clean the apartment? Bring out the Gimp.

Need someone to watch over Bruce Willis while I have him chained to a chair? Bring Out The Gimp.

OK, so there are some issues. I don't have a basement. There is a downstairs apartment, but it is occupied by a guy who works on his motorcycle inside the apartment.

So the Gimp will have to live in the closet.

I do think there are some good uses for the Gimp.

Estelle Getty hits on me? Bring out the Gimp.

Elevator freak annoys me? Gimp.

Elephant woman shows up?, never mind. I might keep that one for myself...

I think a nice pet Gimp would be a great addition to the Faour menagerie.

The Gimp could mind the store when I'm -- I mean The Gargoyle -- is out and about. The Gimp could accompany me to Vegas so I can fit in better.

Yep, I need a Gimp. If only so I can say, "bring out the Gimp." Then answer myself with, "Gimp's sleeping."

"Well, I guess you're gonna have to wake *him up then."

Applications will be accepted immediately.

(*-female Gimps will be perfectly acceptable)

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Meet my "friend" Trevor....Brackets, brackets, brackets...

OK, you were promised freaks.

So meet the new man in my life: Trevor.

Thanks to Will and Katie, my reputation is tarnished. Trevor is my new "special friend."

This is how rumors get started: Kids talking to their friends about "Trevor" and not being specific. Some of their friends think Trevor is a dog. Some think he is daddy's new live-in friend.

Some think he is the weird freaky uncle.

Well, he is weird. Temperamental. Demanding.

Trevor is a GPS system.

For some reason, the kids chose to name his Trevor, perhaps because of his vaguely English voice.

They talk back to him. They make fun of his pronunciations. They get excited when he gives directions on how to get home. But they keep Trevor's true identity a secret.

So now some parents think I have a "friend." Of course, the kiddos -- being my offspring -- aren't discouraging this at all, because they think it's funny.

Trevor, meanwhile, is getting moody. He doesn't always give the route immediately. He sometimes wants to send me off in the wrong direction and gets nasty when I disagree with him. (Should I be surprised? He was a gift from Val...)

Being a man, of course I rarely ask him for directions anyway, which is starting to cause some trouble in paradise.

Fortunately, Trevor's voice can be adjusted. A sex change may be in order.

Maybe that will save the relationship.


I am encouraged that our country is rallying enough that the president can spend a chunk of his day filling out an NCAA bracket for ESPN. I take this as an positive sign that he has this president thing down and has time to enjoy basketball with the rest of us.

So if Obama can do it, so can Trevor. He picks Memphis over North Carolina in the title game.

And he bought me a nice smoking jacket...

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Not so fast...

Just a quick update: The debut of the new show is being delayed. Until it gets sorted out, we'll still be on Sunday mornings and Monday nights. Stay tuned.

I promise a freak update by the end of the week.

In the meantime, check out this hilarious video with the comedian CK on the Conan show. Everyone under 35 years old MUST watch this:

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Bad news, good news... a new evil that zipper...

First some bad news for those who listen to our radio shows: The Front Page and The Main Event are dead.

(OK, maybe it's not bad news. If you hate the shows, it's great news for you).

Now, the good news (or bad news for the haters):

We're starting a new show on Monday that will run five days a week and kick off our new lineup of local programming. We'll be on 1-3 p.m. Central Monday through Friday. It will be a very similar show to The Front Page -- lots of humor and fun and some goofy stuff, plus some great sports guests and takes. The first show will be this Monday. If you get a chance, listen on the stream at (You can also check us out on the new studio Web cam. Yes, I am looking good these days. Or not).

Anyway, it's good news. We have only been doing this about a year, and to move into a slot like this (and replace a national ESPN show) is a big deal. Those of you who have kept firing me jokes and funny ideas in the last year...please keep it up.

A lot of people are responsible, most notably Matt The Superstar, of course, who has carried me much of the last year.

Also, The King, Jerome Solomon, the most talented dude I know. I was an eyelash from getting a real job when he kept me in the business.

Mostly, I want to say thanks to all of you who read this blog. Also, all the funny Facebook stuff you guys do makes great material. So thanks a million.

I will be starting a new Facebook group for the show once we decide what to name it.

Of course, if we suck and the ratings plummet, I'll be flipping burgers in six months.

You want fries with that?
Also, congrats are in order for Miss Hu.

And our shameless non-Brandy blog plug of the week. Check this one out.

OK, here's a new evil plot for all of us:

I'm not very political. Never have been. Couldn't tell you if I'm conservative, liberal, or both. Depends on the day and the subject.

But I have decided to get political. Sort of.

Here's my plan:

Let's pick a politician on Facebook each week. Not a big timer like Obama, mind you, but say a state rep from Idaho.

We can start with a conservative, join their friends list and change our political status to "Republican." Then, let's update our Facebook status with completely bizarre, Liberal-leaning status updates every few hours.

"Fred is thinking the economic stimulus package is a great idea."

"Brandy is thinking we need more defense cuts and need to add social programs."

"Danny believes there is nothing wrong with hitting it with an intern every now and then, especially if she has a cigar."

Then the following week, we go conservative on a liberal:

"Fred says stop taxing and let these poor people fend for themselves."

"Dana wishes McCain had won."

"Val is Canadian and doesn't give a rat's ass about your politics. Ours sucks enough as it is."

The beauty of this is we will find out if the politicians actually read their Facebook pages, or if it is just some cigar-toting intern running the show.

Disclaimer: If you really are political, you are banned from participating. We can't start taking stuff seriously around here.


A quick follow up on the gym: I haven't seen Estelle in a couple days. I really hope she didn't die. I might have been her last chance at...urrrgghh!Never mind. I am making myself ill.

Meanwhile, I forgot one key element to working out every day:

Never forget to bring a second pair of underwear to change into after the workout.

Otherwise, you either go commando during the workout (trust me, BAD idea) or when you leave.

If you do the latter, and you are a male, well...don't get dressed and talk on the phone at the same time. The zipper is not your friend. In fact, I was an eyelash away from a Something About Mary moment.

Fortunately, we don't have a bleeder. But it was close.

(Yeah, yeah, I know. No big loss. Keep it to yourself, people).

Friday, March 6, 2009

I have lost my sex appeal. Unless you are Estelle Getty...

Warning: The contents of this post are rated PG-13. And they are disgusting. Read at your own risk. (Like that will chase you away).

Yes. It's over. I have nothing left to live for. I am no longer appealing.

B.B. King ignored me in the gym today. Estelle Getty didn't, but that's another story.

First, some background.

I have a history in the gym of men hitting on me. I have no idea why; I don't roll that way. I don't put off signs. In fact, I put on my headphones, pull a hat over my eyes and ignore everyone as much as possible. I don't bother anyone and hope no one bothers me.

It doesn't help.

Up until about a year ago, I was a workout fiend. I was in the gym six days a week and was in terrific shape. Then I got in radio, got fat and got out of my routine.

But we've made some progress in the weight department and have started going back to the gym every day. Admittedly, I'm not quite as attractive as I was, but hey, that's why I'm back in the gym.

Even so, getting spurned by B.B. hurt.

B.B. is a rather large individual who used to occasionally show up in the gym. Well, the locker room. I'm not sure I've ever actually seen him in the gym itself.

He goes about 5-foot-1, and -- generously -- about 420. He wears skin-tight white leotard-type pants that show well more than anyone would want to see. They are like bike pants, but would have been better served as underwear.

Either way, they were disgusting.

(A special thanks to whoever invented the material. If those things ever split, it would be a natural disaster).

And he looks just like blues legend B.B. King.

A couple years ago, I was getting ready to shower when B.B. approached me and asked me a very strange question.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have a beautiful (Richard)?"

Needless to say, I was taken aback.

I think I mumbled something about, "yes, I get that all the time" in a weak attempt to be funny and quickly retreated.

The former colleagues will probably remember that as the day I smelled like stale sweat, because the shower wasn't happening after that.

I did my best to avoid B.B., and rarely saw him after our brief conversation. Other than the occasional disturbing smile, he did not bother me again. (Well, he did wear those ridiculous shorts).

So it had been a year -- at least -- since I had last seen B.B. waddle into the gym seeking Richards to compliment. He was there yesterday, probably a few pounds heavier, still wearing the same disgusting shorts.

And he ignored me. Nothing. Not even a wry, disgusting smile. And he certainly was no longer impressed with...well, never mind.

So partly relieved and strangely disappointed, I went on my way and began my workout, hat over my eyes, Offspring ("dance, ----er, dance!") blasting in my ears, knowing I was no longer attractive to large, B.B. King/toadlike males.

But apparently, I am still quite fetching to the elderly set. Because as I was there, I saw a... well, mature woman who looked just like the late Estelle Getty trying to take a weight off a machine so she could do the workout with no weights on it. She was struggling, so I stopped what I was doing and took the weight off for her.

She didn't look a day over 90. She moved at a speed of about one mile per century. But it was nice to see her trying to stay healthy in her old age. She thanked me for helping, proceeded to do her one rep, and I went on my way, trying to erase the smell of Ben Gay and stale Depends from my nostrils.

Let no good deed go unpunished.

A couple minutes later, she approached me, interrupting my workout. She asked my name, started making small talk. I was trying to figure out what the heck this was about, and then it hit me:

Estelle Getty is trying to pick me up.

In horror, I politely ended the conversation, saying I only had a few minutes left to finish before I had to go. But she croaked something about "hoping to see me around again soon."

I'm not sure what was worse; being dumped by B.B. or pursued by Estelle.

I am no longer sexy to old, overweight men. But I am George Clooney when it comes to 90-year-olds.

Either way, the thrill is gone.

I think I will try a new gym today.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Just for Vik...what a croc?

Since Vik the dazzling Brit wants Crocs...well, here we go:

This is an American croc. Which apparently means it is uglier than other crocs from around the world, seems hell-bent on world domination, watches REAL football on TV and probably drinks Miller Lite or Bud Light.

Oh, and he has probably been running some Ponzi schemes on the other crocs, where he somehow got to eat all the human beings with a promise that if other crocs brought him bodies, they would eventally get 20 bodies back.

That's about all the croc humor I have, except for one joke I heard a long time ago, that also happens to be a blonde joke...

A man walks into a bar with his pet crocodile.

The bartender screams and demands the man get the creature out of there immediately.
The man tries to calm the bartender down and says his croc is VERY well trained and there is nothing to worry about.

To prove it, he pulls out his, um, member and puts it in the crocodile's mouth. Then he hits the crocodile over the head several times.

After a few good smacks, he pulls it out and shows the bartender. "See? No marks. He's harmless."

The man then asks everyone at the bar: "So, would anyone else like to try?"

The blonde in the corner quickly stands up and says...

"I will...but don't smack me on the head!"


On a more serious note, please click on the Examiner commentary for me. I get paid per click. Help a brother out.

Have a great day. And don't fall for any crocodile-inspired Ponzi schemes....

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

We promised laughs...

OK, as promised no more mention of newspapers or serious stuff. We're going back to more traditional F World fare.
That means begging (please click on our Examiner commentary and tell your friends), gratuitous Brandy links, a reference to killing the blog once and for all and something about spider monkeys.
While we are in lockdown trying to reinvent fiction, we've decided to share some of our favorite funny videos from recent weeks. It's a common blog tactic when you don't have anything funny. Drop in some videos that make people laugh. That way, you are entertained, I don't have to come up with another freak, and we still get a blog posting.
Plus, i get to show off my sick embedding skills. (Well, except for this first one, which seems to bleed over.

Speaking of bleeding, don't miss the last one.

First off, there's nothing quite like a mascot blowing out his knee goofing off on the basket. The Buck is out for the season:

And if you are going to participate in a dunk contest, don't kill your girlfriend:

I promised monkeys. Here is what happens when a girl gets on a monkey's bad side...

Finally, you think there is a rivalry between the U.S. and Canada in hockey? Check out this fight -- in a paralympic game! (Somehow I think Val or Danny is responsible for this one)

OK, this will probably be the last blog. Until the next one.

Monday, March 2, 2009

Czaban is a genius...a way to save newspapers...check out this hottie

I hate being serious on this blog. It's not really the point of it, especially on a Monday, when we all need a laugh. So I promise a funny take at the end. If you just drop by to laugh every now and then, you can skip this. If you have ever worked for a newspaper or read one..feel free to humor me. I promise, it will be the last thing I ever write about newspapers on this blog.
Every now and then I have that pang of sadness about my former life. I have no regrets about leaving the business, but I hate sitting on the sidelines watching as people say the newspaper business is dying.
The sad truth? It's already dead.
The Rocky Mountain News is gone. The San Francisco Chronicle and Seattle PI are likely next. These are not fly-by-night operations. These are papers that have been part of the fabric of this country for decades. They have rich, even majestic histories.
Like many newspapers, they have been doomed by a changing news dynamic, a shaky economy, and -- more critically -- bad management and foolish decisions.
Unless someone wakes up, we will be lucky to have more than 10 major newspapers left by the year 2020.
However, to paraphrase Miracle Max...newspapers are only mostly dead, not all dead. And we all know that means barely alive. And barely alive can be saved. (OK, had to get a movie reference in, even when I am being serious).
I heard the uniquely brilliant Steve Czaban throw out a concept on his show this morning, and it made perfect sense to me.
Side note: If you like our shows at all, you would love Czaban. He is smart, funny, caustic. He has one of the most entertaining shows on the planet. Unfortunately, I only get to listen to the first hour each morning on my way to work as I make your local sports updates safe for America. He is terrific. I would settle for being 1/10th as talented. Here is his Web site.
Anyway, I don't know if he was serious or not, but here's his idea:

Newspapers should kill their Web sites.

Something about it struck me as perfectly viable. While I am sure this has been discussed by others before, it's the first time I have heard it. Maybe it's a huge topic these days and I am just so out of touch with newspapers now that it seemed unique.
Unique or not, the more I considered it, the more plausible the concept became.
Since the mid-1990s, newspapers have struggled with how to deal with the Internet. At first, Web sites were marketing tools. Now they are the newspaper.
Remember what management used to tell us? "We have to do it. We have to increase our presence on the Web."
So we all proceeded to make the core product obsolete. Give away what we tried to charge for elsewhere.
We did it so well, that there was no reason to buy a newspaper for news anymore.
Readers get everything they could possibly want from the Web site long before the paper hits the ground.
Newspaper Web sites aren't profitable. If they were, people would not be getting laid off.
They are also a paradox -- the better the Web site, the more obsolete the print product becomes. And the better the Web site, the more it is pirated -- and profiteered -- by other, more effective sites.
Newspaper Web sites can't compete with Yahoo, MSNBC, ESPN. Those sites essentially aggregate the best news. So if you do great work, they pick it up. But if the important news is going to show up on Yahoo, why would I read it on the newspaper's Web site?
I get almost everything I need these days from and Yahoo. By the time I pick up a paper -- if I even do anymore -- there is absolutely nothing unique that I haven't read elsewhere or seen on the paper's Web site.
Killing the Web sites would make newspapers relevant again. If that's the only place I can get John McClain, Jerome Solomon, Richard Justice...of course I would buy it.
"Yes, but people will read other Web sites instead of us."
Really? Then you are doing a bad job. People want their newspapers. They want a free, independent press. Joe the blogger down the street can't do what you do.
An educated society knows that.
It's time to stop trying to be Joe the Blogger and be real journalists again. Joe the Blogger isn't an independent press. Real journalists are losing their identity by trying to be everything but journalists.
Because that is what they are being told to do by managers who don't know any better.
I've said this before: running a newspaper is like owning a sports team. It's a public trust. People are passionate about it. They want to love their teams. They want to love their newspaper, too.
People will pay to see Lance Berkman. They will also pay to read Richard Justice.
Think about it: what are the most successful remaining newspapers? Community papers with little or no Web presence.
Newspapers should get back to being what they were. When the ESPNs and Yahoos can't get their information from newspapers until a day later -- and have to retype it instead of link it -- people will have to go back to the print product. Will there be as many readers as we used to have? Of course not. The world has changed.
But an awful lot of people would come back.
Circulation can be turned around. The business can be turned around.
As for the Web sites? Kill them. At worst, go back to what they started as -- a marketing tool that touts what is in the paper but doesn't give ANYTHING away.
Find out if you really have more readers than ever before. Make them leave the Web to come to you.
The biggest hurdle -- as always -- would be ownership and management. It would take someone with vision and guts to make a decision like that. Space would have to be increased in the newspaper to get the quality of information back in print. That costs money. You would have to hire real talent again that people would want to read. That costs money. You would also have to actually cover events again. That costs money.
Yes, you would lose some Web advertisers, but in truth, much of that is piggyback business.
In this economic environment, it would take unbelievable courage to try something like that.
And no, there are no guarantees.
Will it work? Who knows? What is being done now damned sure doesn't.


So I lied about being funny. What the hell did you expect? It's Monday. I've been blogging about gargoyles, spider monkeys, evil clowns, wheelchair prostitutes, elephant women, oompa loompas, foreign freaks and sexy mannequins with no arms for weeks. I can't be serious for one day? I can't have one blog entry that's about an important topic?

Just blame Val. We haven't done that in a while.

OK, so I made up the mannequin thing. For the record, though, if they have a goth look and no arms, I am all over them. Why not? I've gone out with more shallow women.

The plastic burns can be a bit much though.

Oh, come on. You think she's sexy. And I will never tell what happened to the legs...