>> ^Jinx:

>> ^Boise_Lib:
When I first saw this I read the title as, "Bill Murray Gave These Guys a Wank."
I was expecting a completely different video.

Freud here, just letting you know your subconscious is seriously fucked.


No surprise there.

>> ^Boise_Lib:

When I first saw this I read the title as, "Bill Murray Gave These Guys a Wank."
I was expecting a completely different video.

Freud here, just letting you know your subconscious is seriously fucked.

In reply to this comment by Boise_Lib:
*promote

Thanks so much for the promote!!

Here was a funny exchange from Wil's autograph lineup from that Sunday.

Female Fan (to Wil): Hi, sorry, I know you are famous, but I don't know who you are. (Holds out her hand.)
Wil: (stares at her for a few seconds)... Hi, I am LaVar Burton.
LaVar (nearby to Wil): What?!
Wil: Yeah, I did Reading Rainbow for kids back in the 80s and 90s.

Fricken' hilarious.

>> ^renatojj:

Anyone else feel embarrassed for them when they have to do the voices on camera, and improvise the dialog?


They must get asked all the time, particularly at comic conventions and things like that. I'd imagine they have a few stock lines that they go to when someone asks comes up to them and asks for an autograph.

we used to do this as kids -- my camp counselor would pretend to be famous, and a bunch of us kids would pretend in public to recognize him as some famous person and mob him for an autograph. People around us would soon follow-suit and ask for autographs of someone they don't know and have never heard of!

good times

http://lyrics.wikia.com/Sage_Francis:The_Best_Of_Times

It's been a long and lonely trip but I'm glad that I took it because it was well worth it.
I got to read a couple books and do some research before I reached my verdict.
Never thought that I was perfect. Always thought that I had a purpose.
Used to wonder if I'd live to see my first kiss.

The most difficult thing I ever did was recite my own words at a service
Realizing the person I was addressing probably wasn't looking down from heaven.
Or cooking up something in hell's kitchen, trying to listen in or eaves drop from some another dimension.
It was self serving just like this is.

Conveniently religious on Easter Sunday and on Christmas.
The television went from being a babysitter to a mistress.
Technology made it easy for us to stay in touch while keeping a distance,
'til we just stayed distant and never touched. Now all we do is text too much.

I don't remember much from my youth. Maybe my memory is repressed.
Or I just spent too much time wondering if I'd live to have sex.
Fell in love for the first time in 4th grade but I didn't have the courage to talk to her.
In 8th grade I wrote her the note but I slipped it in someone else's locker.

Considered killing myself 'cause of that.
It was a big deal. It was a blown cover.
It was over for me. My goose was cooked.
Stick a fork in me. The jig is up.
I blew my chances, the rest is history, our future was torn asunder.
It became abundantly clear that I was only brought here to suffer.

At least I didn't include my name.
Thankfully I wrote the whole note in code
And it had 10 layers of scotch tape safety seal making it impossible to open.
Plus, it was set to self destruct.
Whoever read it probably died…laughing.
I wonder if they lived long enough to realize what happened.

A year later, I came to understand that wasn't love that I was feeling for her.
I had someone else to obsess over.
I was older. I was very mature.
I forged my time signature while practicing my parents autograph 'cause I was failing math.
Disconnected the phone when I thought the teacher would call my home.

I checked the mailbox twice a day at the end of a long dirt road.
Steamed open a couple envelopes like I was in private detective mode.
If you snoop around long enough for something in particular you're guaranteed to find it.
For better or worse that's how I learned that it's best to just keep some things private.

It was the best of times. It was the end of times.

It was the best of times. It was the end of times.
I was always on deck, I was next in line.
An only child with a pen and pad writing a list of things that I could never have.
The walls in my house were paper thin.
Every squabble seemed to get deafening.
If my memory serves me correctly I made it a point to void and forget some things.
Probably to keep from being embarrassed.
Never meant to upset or give grief to my parents.
Kept my secrets…hid my talents…
In my head, never under the mattress.

Therapy couldn't break me.
Never learned a word that would insure safety.
So I spoke softly and I tip toed often.
The door to my room was like a big old coffin.
The way that it creeked when I closed it shut.
Anxieties peaked when it opened up.
As if everything that I was thinking would be exposed.
I still sleep fully clothed.

It was the best of times.

It was beautiful.
It was brutal.
It was cruel.
It was business as usual.

Heaven. It was hell.
Used to wonder if I'd live to see 12.

When I did I figured that I was immortal.
Loved to dance but couldn't make it to the formal.
Couldn't bear watching my imaginary girlfriend
Bust a move with any other dudes.

Tone Loc was talking bout a "Wild Thang"
But I was still caught up in some child thangs.
Scared of a God who couldn't spare the rod.
It was clearly a brimstone and fire thang.

Pyromaniac. Kleptomaniac.
Couldn't explain my desire to steal that fire.
Now I add it to my rider.
Like "Please oh please don't throw me in that patch of brier!"

It was the best of times. It was the end of times.

The school counselor was clueless 'cause I never skipped classes.
Perfect attendance. Imperfect accent.
Speech impediment they could never really fix
And I faked bad eyesight so I could wear glasses.

Considered doing something that would cripple me.
I wanted a wheelchair. I wanted the sympathy.
I wanted straight teeth so then came braces.
4 years of head gear helped me change faces.

It was the best of times. It was the end of times.

Now I wonder if I'll live to see marriage.
Wonder if I'll live long enough to have kids.
Wonder if I'll live to see my kids have kids.
If I do I'm gonna tell 'em how it is.

"Don't listen when they tell you that these are your best years.
Don't let anybody protect your ears.
It's best that you hear what they don't want you to hear.
It's better to have pressure from peers than not have peers.
Beer won't give you chest hair. Spicy food won't make it curl.
When you think you've got it all figured out and then everything collapses…
Trust me, kid…it's not the end of the world."

I got curious and googled. Found this.

"Comment by Steven Crabtree on January 12, 2011 at 3:01pm

That's very funny, Kim Fowler. We once saw Johnny Cash pumping gas in his car at the Exxon station on Briley Parkway near the airport. Early 1970s. My father said, "look there's Johnny Cash." Sure enough it was. My Dad wanted me to get out and ask for his autograph but I wouldn't do it. "Dad, he's pumping gas." '

>> ^MycroftHomlz:

jealous. Oh and just to add fuel to @shuac 's raging jealousy, we have all of the 1st edition 1st printings signed in mint condition.
>> ^shuac:
While working as an intern at ABC Sports, Peter Jennings approached me at the commissary and asked whether a particular bagel (in a pile of bagels) was egg. I said, "I'm not sure." Whoo, someone pinch me. That same week in NYC, I rode in an elevator with Brian Setzer at the Mayflower hotel.
But my real 15 min was when Ben Fong-Torres, longtime editor of Rolling Stone, called me on the phone and asked me about the song I'd written about him. That was exciting.



Jealous? No, I was merely sharing my story like the others. And I'm a Kindle guy so I have no particular affinity for physical books nor do I collect autographs. I'm quite enjoying GRRM though: currently reading Clash of Kings.

>> ^dystopianfuturetoday:

Issy and I got to see the D in a small venue show with Dave Grohl and the 88. It was awesome.


Nooooo way!! Can I have your autograph please?

I'd bring a box of Kleenex to be autographed by all the lovely ladies.

BUSTED. I hope the girl got a ball from a baseball player with a picture and autograph!

Ah! Thanks for that. I thought he was signing the video, rather than just name-dropping.>> ^arvana:

I'm not sure what Theo Jansen has to do with these machines, other than he autographed the last one. The artist is a Japanese fellow who goes by 'denha' online, real name from his website may be Naoki Harada...

I'm not sure what Theo Jansen has to do with these machines, other than he autographed the last one. The artist is a Japanese fellow who goes by 'denha' online, real name from his website may be Naoki Harada...