Terrible Delicatessen -- 11.18.13

Ennui Of My Own Design, Part III: Listenin’ To Jackyl

Good goddamnI love heavy metal music!

Before anyone asks: Yes, Gary was at Woodstock ‘94. If you look really closely you can see him next to the crowd surfer in this video. I’m serious! And there were chainsaws! Truths! All truths!

What else? Oh, yeah—Stevie Scungilli! What a hip young chap he is. Nice chin, too! You’ll be seeing a bit more of him in the future, I’m sure of it.

And poor Kreemie. Poor, annoyed Kreemie. He’ll live, though. Right? Right.

NEXT WEEK: Ennui Of My Own Design, Part IV: If It Feels This Good Gettin’ Used…

Hortamur fari, quo sanguine cretus.


Terrible Delicatessen 11.11.13

Ennui Of My Own Design, Part II: Podcrast

Kreemie’s drowning whatever sorrows he has into some serious podcast listening this week. Gary’s not on the up-and-up technology-wise, so he inquires. Then they squabble.

NEXT WEEK: Ennui Of My Own Design, Part IIIListenin’ To Jackyl

Cor boni concilii statue tecum non est enim tibi aliud pluris illo.



Terrible Delicatessen -- 11.4.13

 Kreemie's sad about Ludmila. Gary tries to cheer him up with choco snacks. Things don't go so well.

As per usual.

NEXT WEEK: In Ennui Of My Own Design, Part II: Podcrast, Gary just doesn't get it; "it" being technology. Kreemie loses it. Hilarity ensues. Ho ho ho.

Non scholae, sed vitae discimus.


Terrible Delicatessen -- 10.21.13

 You Light Up My Life, Part VII: All’s Crap That Ends Crap

So, there’s that. Going to let this one sink in on it’s own without any additional exposition.

Oh, and yeah. Graham Norton

Since we left you with such a bummer this week, we’re going to make it up to you next Monday. Get ready for our special Halloween edition of Terrible Delicatessen, Halloween Meats For Treats!

Sometimes I put on a ski mask and dress in old clothes, go out on the streets and beg for quarters. - Mike Tyson 


Johnny Weirdbuy, or, Totally Acceptable Eccentric Behavior

Imagine yourself a wealthy individual. 

Sit and think about that for a second. Really think about it. Put yourself in a pair of them fictive Wealthy Shoes. You're at a point in your life where you are a very, very, very rich person. You've accrued massive earnings somehow. I don't know or care how you did it. You just have, and now you have a loathsome amount of money sitting in a Swiss bank somewhere. A sickening and outrageous amount. It's absurd. And really great. You are the 1%.

Alright. Are you there yet? Fine, good. OK.

You're at a point in your imaginary life where, with this stupid amount of money you have, you've paid everything off. The Essentials   . You've paid back any sort of loans or debt you might've amassed over the years. You have a house. A big-ass mansionhome. You have a fancy car or five. Kids? Sure. They have everything they'd need or want. Things they couldn't even fathom, they'd most likely have those things. Same goes for the rest of your extended family. They'd all have showy cars and big-ass fricken houses with mortgages paid in full. Everything and more, all taken care of. 

You've even purchased the things you don't necessarily need. Lots of those things. You have a sweet HD TV with the DVR and the BluToobs and all the technology. And you have all the iPads and first-print books and overpriced Ikea furniture and, like, two Shamwows and a jacuzzi you never use. You have all of that. The goods. You have the goods.

Now, are you there yet? Yes? OK, great. Fantastic. You get it now. You're filthy, grimy rich. Now what? 

You've finally made it to the point in your life where you are totally allowed to get immerse yourself in weird shit. 

What do you mean "What do I mean?" I mean you have so much goddamned money that you're absolutely, positively allowed to immerse yourself in eccentric behavior. Any kind. A great example of this happening is when Jimmy Page got super into black magic and bought Aleister Crowley's castle. 

See how it works? Jimmy Page was wealthy to a point where eccentric behavior was utterly justifiable; having loads of money makes it OK for you to act on your abnormal idiosyncrasies. It's a fact. A fact I just made up. But a fact nonetheless. Fact. 

Here's what I'd do. If I was filthydirty rich I'd build a room somewhere in my big-ass mansionhome and fill it with oversized clothing. Giant cowboy hats and sombreros, giant suits like the one David Byrne wore in Stop Making Sense. Those fantastic sumo suits. Giant sneakers. All of it. It'd be fucking breathtaking. I'd also have a small section of the room dedicated to miniature clothing, too. You know, feng shui. Balance or something. Right? There would be a small table with an assortment of small hats (like this or this or this), maybe some very small shoes. Exactly so. Yes.

So, have you thought about it? What do you think? Which eccentric hobbies would you get into if you were obscenely rich? Please share your thoughts with me. Feel free to get really, really weird with it. Dig deep into your subconscious. If you could practice a sort of borderline compulsion of a hobby that sounds ridiculous in this reality, which would you practice? Think about it. Really think. There has to be something. 

Send them over and I'll post them here and be judgey about it. Judgey in a good way. Probably.