UNREMITTING FAILURE

Welcome to the Turkish Baths of Unremitting Failure

Sumptious, aren't they?  Soothing and rejuvenative, the baths are the perfect place to relax with a bacon and egg sandwich.  Feel free to "soak your bones" while "sweet-talking a couple of hot babes", or to accidentally topple the giant seashell (left) into the water, inadvertently pinning yourself beneath it in four feet of water.  We like to stop in after a busy day to enjoy a game of water polo.  We can't today, unfortunately.  Our pony drowned. 

  "Bug off, creep"

New Research Casts Revealing Light on Nazi Leadership

Working with newly discovered Nazi archives, Third Reich authority Ian Kershaw has published a groundbreaking study of Hitler's henchmen based on the kinds of knives they brought to the so-called Night of the Long Knives in June 1934.   Here's a shortlist:

Goering:  Long and dangerous-looking hunting knife

Himmler:  Swiss Army knife

Goebbels:  Showy rubber cutlass

Hess: A spoon

Based on these data, Kershaw concludes that "Hess was, enigmatically, even dumber than he looked."  The study will be published in this month's Home and Cutlery.

and it was plastic

Brit Finds Giant Venomous Centipede Behind TV

When asked by police what he was doing behind the TV, the 9-inch South American specimen of Scolopendra gigantea told police, "I sure as shit wasn't going to sit in front of it.  Dude was watching Notting Hill.  Julia Roberts skeeves me something awful." 

No, Cody, You Can't

The last time we let you "borrow a feelin'", it came back bloodstained. 

   Thanks, Keith!

The Problem With This World

Is Optimism.  Hitler was like, "Let's invade Russia.  It'll be a breeze!"  Bush was like, "Let's invade Iraq.  They'll welcome us with open arms!"  Custer was like, "Let's slaughter some indians.  They're primitive pussies!"  Optimism, friends, kills.  What the world really needs is more nattering nabobs of negativity.  People willing to stand up and say, "It'll never work.  Let's get drunk and forget it."  With a solid cadre of such negative thinkers, the world could be remade.  There'd be somebody around to say, "I dunno.  Maybe getting shitfaced and jerryrigging a rocket to the back of the Yugo in order to sail across the gap in the rotting old Sutter Bridge isn't such a good idea."  It's that can-do spirit that's putting people in coffins.  So get that can't-do spirit.  It just might save your life. 

Public Enemy No. 1

Ostrich Runs Amok on Golden Gate Bridge

We've been warning people about this very thing for years.  We couldn't tell you how many high-level antiterrorist briefings we've stormed out of.  Shouting, "You can't ignore this, Condi!  This ostrich on the Golden Gate Bridge problem is real, and it's going to happen!  And people are going to die!"  They called us a Cassandra, they poohpoohed our concerns, they stuck their head in the sand.   We'll give you three guesses on who's going to have to deal with the carnage. 

A new kind of foe--deadly, feathered death!

One of the Posters from Unremitting Failure's Kursk Bureau

It's nothing much.  Just the usual worker morale bull.  The large print translates as "Quit thinking positively, Insect!"  The small print describes how those who refuse to get with the program will be ventilated by many rusty bayonets. 

Mrs. Unremitting Failure kindly served as artist's model

This Baby

Used to sit at the edge of a parking lot several blocks up the hill from Unremitting Failure's home in the Adams Morgan neighborhood of Washington D.C.  It remains the largest freestanding vending machine we've ever seen.  It was larger than our apartment.  You could buy anything from this thing: soda, candy, snacks, toiletries, firearms, videos, condoms, Danielle Steel novels, compact cars, even a smallish French existentialist who came in a box and, once let loose in your home, drank all your liquor while putting the Gallic moves on your wife.   We bought things there once or twice just to watch its sophisticated product selection and supply apparatus in action.  Then one day it was gone.  It just disappeared.  Up and walked away, maybe.  Whilst muttering to itself, "I'm a big ol' vending machine, and it's a time I was a ramblin.'"

We bought the hipster from the machine

Are You a PPT Kid?

Prayer:  It's the second best reason to get down on your knees!  But unlike the best reason, prayer is good wholesome legal fun for the whole family, especially in states that still have sodomy laws on the books! We don't have kids, thank god, but if we did, we'd encourage, nay force, them to join the Presidential Prayer Team for Kids.  Hey, if you're going to pray, why not pray for our President, who doesn't have a prayer otherwise?  We pray for the President every day.  We pray for him to sprout bat wings and and flitter off into the gloaming.  We pray for him to suddenly start spouting gruesome gibberish, rather than his usual facile and reassuring gibberish.  We pray for him to volunteer for a medical research experiment for extra spending money.  Something involving rickets.  Or hoof and mouth disease.  Heck, we're not picky.  Although something that causes his head to swell up like a watermelon would be nice.   

Rock You Like a Hurricane

Rudolf Schenker of Scorpions fame celebrates a birthday today.  As you can see from this photo, Rudolf's one of those Germans whose tanning machine addiction has caused deep and permanent mutations at the epidermal level.  The guy looks like a buffed turd.  But that's okay.  Rudolf is, after all, at least in part responsible for bequeathing us "Rock You Like a Hurricane," whose lightning lyrical shift from the domestic banal to the stupidly sexist is nothing short of breathtaking.  It takes a genius-level of obliviousness to write such a lyric with a straight face, but the Scorps, God Bless 'Em, are up to the challenge. 

It's early morning
The sun comes out
Last night was shaking
And pretty loud
My cat is purring
And scratches my skin
So what is wrong
With another sin
The bitch is hungry
She needs to tell
So give her inches
And feed her well
More days to come
New places to go
I've got to leave
It's time for a show

Man, we couldn't write a lyric that terse and dumb if we tried.  And we have tried.  It's impossible.  These guys are Masters of the Telegraphic Stupid.