Have you ever thought: “Wow, I just can’t get enough of these titillating thoughts. I wish there was a way in which I could have all of the greatest recorded material in one place!”
Look no further. You postulated, predicted, inferred, and guessed it. Here is the greatest collection of videos from Titillating Thoughts that has EVER been assembled. It has screechy vocal chords, skits, celebrity impersonations, AND MORE. This collection has it all. And if that wasn’t enough, if you order now you will get all the videos PLUS a pair of nail clippers WITH FREE nail filer, yes I said FREE! Just call the number below to order this:
1-800-Ifyouareinterestedinsendingmemoneycomment (We’ll be in touch.)
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Note: Videos are in chronological order.
“CartoonGate” – (2013): A diddy I made about Nickelodeon cartoons from the 1990s. If you like oldschool Nickelodeon, you’ll like my rap. It is to the beat of Rugrats.
“Trying Desperately” – (2013): A little rap I made after a long hiatus. I like the beat.
“Leaving On a Jet Plane” – (2012): This is just a casual performance. I am trying to sing while playing a little diddy on my guitar.
“The Girl” – (2012): A semi-decent acapella cover of City and Colour.
“Kiss to Build a Dream On” – (2012): A karaoke version of a Louis Armstrong classic. It is done by and in the style of Louis Armstrong and Kermit the Frog.
“Believe” – (2011): A karaoke Brooks and Dunn rendition done by yours truly. If you like country music, here you go.
“The Break Through” – (2010): My hip-hop single. Aight?
“Guy Love” – (2010): Let’s face the facts. Scrubs is the best show ever. A tribute to it. Allow the hilarity to ensue.
“The Do-Do’s” – (2008): An underrated video. From an outsiders prospective it is a stupid simple concept and took too long to make. From my perspective it is flippin’-amazing. Fun stuff. Also, has a little bonus song in the last portion of the video.
“I’m Yours” – (2008): A cover of Jason Mraz’s song. One of our first…And last band videos.
“Anti-Drug Commercial” – (2008): Great concept.
There you have it!
Feel free to post your thoughts and vote on your favorite of the bunch.
Books. Only a letter away from having my complete interest…You know, ’cause I love to cook and all. Ahem. Ahem. Still, I stand not at ease with books, but at attention. I love a finely worded sentence that when woven together with one thousand six hundred and ninety-one others, placed on a delicate roll of parchment, and professionally bound, construct a book. Books provide me with a mind-bind fond-bond experience! Once upon a time I thought about becoming a librarian. (Sidenote: Are you aware that all librarians have master degrees? I was completely unaware of the educational prowess it took to become a librarian. It turns out that you do not just need a pair of glasses.) Instead I settled upon a career in teaching. Just the same, fortune and fame are not in my future. Only an ample amount of free time awaits me. Such is the horrible trade-off (>.>). But with that time I can read these books that I have so fervently excreted over. Ever hear of the white album? Yeah…
I enter into sporadic spurts when involved in books. There will be months on end that I only read for necessity, and not out of the necessity of pleasure. Then, out of the fog (because the blue is limited in my realm), I will immerse myself in word soaked paper and read. I have been tracking my progress with GoodReads.com; a site I suggest you join and friend me, even if we are not actually friends and it is just a mutual agreement to criticize one another’s atrocious reading selections. Well, your atrocious reading selections, unless of course you are reading what I am. Then it is okay. Straight up. Word. Speaking of such, I do not care for the phrase: “The book is too wordy.” It is a book. It consists of nothing but words. And I know what they mean, but before we fix the book, let’s fix their vocabulary. Too wordy? Gah! I digress…
Now that I have expressed my interest in books and have established the amount of time I have to read such wonders; I need to find them. This is where I stand at another ill-slated front. Do I buy, borrow, or steal? I want to start defining my book collection, but I do not want to forfeit appropriate currency to build it. I have found myself wavering on a borrow/buy concept. First I will borrow the book from el biblioteca (library). I like borrowing from the library; the books have character. They are soiled and worn. Just imagine all the fecal matter that has been disposed of in the presence of one book. That is a lot of shits. And with shits, comes innovation – ideas. Or maybe just shitty ideas. On that same topic, I often wonder which is dirtier, a pornographic magazine or a library book? That’s a good ‘ole mind tickler. Anyhow, I borrow the book, read it, and if I enjoy its contents I will splurge the three dollars at a thrift store or Amazon PRIME and purchase that book for my collection. I know, this concept leaves people dumbfounded. Why would I buy a book I have just read and have no intention of reading it again anytime soon? Good question. No equally good answer. Because my bookshelf is bare? Because I want to support the authors (who are mostly dead)? Because I want my collection of books to be a representation of myself? Science fiction and fantasy mixed in with a touch of non-fiction and historical accuracy. Not all in one book of course, but that’s not to say that it can’t be. Historically accurate fantasy. Do you believe in magic? Perhaps in a young girls heart…Or maybe I buy the book just because…I do what I want.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year…Or at least it is according to the lovable tunes of the frequency modulation. And quite honestly, I concur. Who doesn’t love Christmas time?
If you do not love Christmas, get out.
No, seriously. #Serious. See, I am even using hashtags. Yeah. This just got real.
The hoary winter winds are the perfect way to usher in a White Christmas. However, a frosty blow does not necessarily correlate into a snowy peak. If you catch my drift. (That, my friends, was a wind-pun trifecta.) There is nothing finer than when the weather outside is frightful. It awards the opportunity to consummate one’s affection of hot chocolate. Toss a candy cane in that cup of bliss; it and I will both melt. Yes, it is a marvelous thing, until…You get to the bottom. Culminating under all those delicious tastes of chocolately goodness is the sip of hell. And although I know that it is coming, I still place that cup on my lips and tilt it back. The peppermint aroma vigorously penetrates my nostrils and that nip of hot chocolate slips down my pallet; except there is little chocolate and peppermint galore. It burns like the DICKens…Hm. That might be a less holiday friendly burn. Regardless of burns, it is a sure fire way to clear your respiratory system if you think you might be falling victim to the pneumonic plague (Christmas cheer isn’t the only thing that is infectious this time of year).
Then, once the nostrils are clear of mucous membranes, you can embrace the fir. I know I do. I gravitate towards Christmas tree lots. It’s an addiction really. Smelling the sweet needles of joy. I don’t garden, but come Christmas time that is the department you will find me in. I am more of a Noble Fir man myself, but from time to time I have an afFIR with a Grand Fir. Other times I find that I just PINE for a Scotch. And no, that is not short for a Scotch Pine…Sometimes I just want a drink.
Add the lights (Go big or go home), carols (fa la la la), holiday goodies (popcorn balls and mint & chip cookies), and I can’t forget the movies. Christmas brings back claymation at its finest. Except for “The Leprechauns Christmas Gold.” Come on now leprechauns, you have your day. Yes you are green and look like little elves, but no. Not Christmas. I prefer to stick with the classics. My two favorite Christmas films are “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town” and “White Christmas.” And then we have the always awesome Doctor Who Christmas special.
All the fine traditions of Christmas take me back to a simpler time. Each year is like a trip with the Ghost of Christmas past (I always picture Jiminy Cricket); reminiscing. Yet as I grow older, my childish joys diminish. The magic of Christmas is a gift that can fade. That is until I see the excitement on little children’s faces when they speak of Santa Claus. That is something that I look forward to replicating with my own devilish offspring someday. The magic of Christmas…
Hmmm…It got a little sentimental right there. Unintentionally so.
Lets wrap things up. Thank goodness I am dealing with words and not wrapping paper because it would be a mess. Too late for that you say? Ho Ho Ho…Funny. Let me attempt it anyway. I just want to congratulate a specific someone on their early Christmas present and wish the rest of you a Merry Chr…Bah humbug!
Ha. No really, Merry Christmas!
I am obsessed with examining minor menial tasks and how people perform them. Lately, I have been busting academia nuts into spoonfuls of A+ wordage. In the process of writing my essays, I have noticed there are times in which my mind sputters and I absent mindedly write the same word twice.
An example: “They call me DJ Oriental because I lay down down crazy tracks.”
I thought this tantalizing incident to be of interest only to myself, but after further debation and observation…I am not the only one suffering from this brain flatulence. It is a prevalent phenomenon that appears to be only privy to those who are aboard the key; or those who use a keyboard. I have yet to read a handwritten document that demonstrates these traits. Then again, if it doesn’t have the all powerful red squiggly line under it, I assume everything is hunky-dory. All hail the red squiggly line!
The part that is most intriguing is what occurs during that short circuiting. Where does our mind go during the brevity of the moment? Are life’s greatest mysteries solved in the blink of an eye? Well, that is a little farfetched…for everyone else that is. I, myself, am quite capable of such measures, but just as capable of forgetting them in the same breath, or blink. My attention to analogies is short, it is like the…I am sure for that instant I have stopped wondering what’s in a wonder ball and have no longer pondered over the locality of the beef. If only I could recapture my epiphanies I could make the world a bett…well, no, that’s a lie; it would probably be the same.
There appear to be different types of mind blips. They can be quite frightening too. It is one thing when they occur in the privacy of my own home, but what about when they happen while driving? I experience these on an almost daily basis. I will be driving and enter a daze only to snap out of it a few minutes later. In the process of that daze I am to recall point F and point K, but you see (or should I say U C. Heh heh) I am not able to recollect the mid section. Who knows how many people I have slaughtered or even worse how many stops signs I have bypassed. Hm, come to think of it, I always snap out of my stupor due to oddly placed speed bumps. In my defense, who places a speed bump in the middle of a crosswalk?
I know I am not the only one to have these blips, absent mindedness, stupors, dazes, brain flatulence. How has it affected you? Do you ever think, “I hope no law enforcement shows up at my door or I receive a ticket in the mail?” Or maybe it’s more simplistic for you, and you only have to worry about grammar Nazis.
Or maybe I am the only one experiencing this and people are only agreeing with me that they too are suffering from said issue so that I may maintain my last strain of sanity.
The drug of obsession, still sought with severity.
The frantic pursuit is bogged with despair,
The ecstasy remnants daubed with err.
The needle’s depleted, the traces remain.
The presence retreated, the memories engrained.
The euphoric sensation, emotionally thwarted.
The attainable elucidation is perplexed and distorted.
My addiction is plain, happiness my fixation.
My ability to obtain, manifested in desolation.
And so I remain enslaved to humanistic desires.
Immersed in cessation and what the future transpires.
I’ve been engrossed in absent minded automobile steering during my exstintsive. (You see what I did there? To save internet space I conducted a merger of extensive and stint…Hm, although, now, this explanation of such Tom Foolery negates my initial purpose. Pooey.) I have been incorporating the aforementioned activity to alleviate the contention that is circumnavigating the vessels of my mind.
Is this an effective strategy?
After heavy scrutinization I have established a concluded concurment. The strategy is effective given proper auditory balance. In layman’s terms that means: do not listen to melancholy melodies sad songs. To achieve happiness one has to want it. The band that puts me right in the head (Am I ever truly right in the head?) is Vampire Weekend. Even their glumified songs sound chipper. And so I just tune in, turn off, drop out, drop in, switch off, switch on and explode.
Explode you say? No. I type it apple-slice; get with it.
Anyhow, I have noticed explosions of road rage. Actually, I am unsure if what I do would be consider road rage. Perhaps it dons no classification. I question this so because during the act of, typed road rage, I am lacking true anger and aggression. Let me explain…
When performing the activity, I have this need to adhere to my code of driving. Rule #34 states that if driving on a two lane road and a merger is approaching that I should speed past the car in the opposite lane so that I am not forced to suffer sitting behind one more car. So I try to speed past them in attempt to secure the first place position. Usually I am successful in my expeditions, but I never quite think it through.
So what happens? I get to drive slowly behind the semi that is now directly in front of me.
I suppose I live for the instantaneous high. Unlike others I know, who drive like EMT’s juiced on coffee and smoothie kicks, my driving is pretty sane, so I thoroughly enjoy these little victories. Also, if you ever saw my car, you would realize that speeding or being a dare-devil is not in the CARds.
Here is one song from Vampire Weekend. I like the meaning.
My mind is all awhirl. I have experienced emotional moments of ascension and submersion. I am going to attempt to bring the vivacious and disconsolate occasions to life in this entry. I am aiming to create a textual dramedy. Let’s see if I am a sharp shooter.
I have not felt the need to record new content on my blog. It is not because I am busy, although that may have contributed to the cause, but it was just a lack of aspiration too. I have even considered relinquishing my role as curator of this blog and allowing it to create its crease into the blemishes of WordPress. Alas, I have decided to stay for now. I considered retirement, but have made my return. I’m like Favre; minus the greatness. Well, and also the penis pictures. I do have wenis pictures though. I always get complimented on the ferocity of my wenis..Come to think of it, those are the only compliments I get. Hm.
While I have given thought to withdrawing from my blog, I have not only been contemplating but enacting my entrance into a new profession. I am currently teaching at my high school alma mater as a “teacher candidate” (AKA student teacher). It is interesting being on the other side. Some of the teachers I had are still around and now that I am among them it is a surreal feeling. Maybe even a sirreal feeling. Sir, you are real…Sometimes people forget that teachers have lives. It’s interesting. Very interesting.
The one thing I am nervous about is censoring myself. I feel that my profession may hinder my comedic ability. I may have to abridge my comedy so that if my blog does trickle down the leg of local community, that it will be a sterile sample. Hopefully that does not cum to fruition because that would be awfully anti-climaxic. i b hopin dat bloggin aint dey flava.
I’ve noticed that censorship has delved into different aspects of my life. It not only affects my career, but I have noticed it affecting relationships I have with people. I may want to inform someone to not go through with something, but I can’t. I may conceal words or not be able to express all the thoughts that percolate from my cranium because it may be deemed inappropriate to my role. I withhold my jaded antics that are emotionally embedded and try to see through to logic and clarity. Who am I to oppose someone’s happiness? Jealousy is not a good look for me…Although I have been told that my method of logic and emotional separation is not kosher and up for debation, I am adhering to my method.
You may be wondering where the dramEDY went in this script. Hold your clydesdales and do not have a bull. Instead have a cow, because this entry is finished.
There are those who say “I’ll see you later” and not “goodbye.” That option is not felicitously available to all. Sometimes a goodbye is all there is; there is no impasse.
I know. I had to say goodbye to someone whom I wish I did not.
Like a candle, I could tell the wick of this tale was flickering to extinction. I tried to isolate it from external conditions, but it was this tale’s denouement. A tale steered by a series of choices. These choices permeated through the seams of a relationship until an impassible blockade was erected and the entirety of the situation dwindled to a singular stipulation. Are we to continue or not?
The answer was no.
I cannot logically attest the response, but the crux of my being can. Will it though? Silently perhaps, but verbally and assiduously, no.
I am lugubrious. Yet, it all may have been for the best. Unfortunately, not all the best things in life are free. This came at a cost.
Instead of focusing on what was lost, I wish to take this opportunity to reflect, cherish, and thank my friend for that which unfolded. I thank my friend for the conversations and the mental prosperity that was shed. I thank my friend for the memorable occasions that were shared. And I thank my friend for understanding me. Maybe one day the barrier will crumble and our friendship will flourish again.
If this person reads this, know that I will miss you.
Forever golden, and never chrome.
It saddens me to think that my child will never share certain experiences that have a treasured place in the pit of my heart. What I am referring to is the experience that is: renting a movie.
Yes, I understand there are still Blockbusters now, but the ambiance has been mitigated to substandard event. I would much rather entertain the thought of visiting a local box of red or my handy dandy Netflix. Still, if I were to try and provide them with a humdrum Blockbuster memory, I would need to find a woman willing and able to release my offspring.
I may be getting ahead of myself…What if I am the only one who felt this way about the movie renting experience?
I remember it clearly.
It was like walking into a wonderland. Shelves upon shelves of entertainment were within my reach. Every conceivable cartoon was placed in a 7.5×4.2×1 inch VHS container of magic. I knew just where my section was too. I would run to it and rummage through the various films. What did I want to watch today? Little Nemo, Ninja Turtles, Mario Bros, The Brave Little Toaster? Yeah, I had seen all of them before, but I liked them. I’d flip over the demo box that was displayed for every movie scratching at its Styrofoam innards as I gazed upon the pictures trying to draw a conclusion as to what the film was about.
Once I had made my decision I would snatch the actual copy of the film and run off to the games section. These were the days of cheap game rentals and tons of games. I remember Sega having a game for almost every movie ever made. I also remember finding out that games based on movies sucked. One of my favorite rentals as a child was a game for my Sega Genesis called ToeJam & Earl. If I were feeling lucky I would try to convince my parents to allow me one movie and one game.
Regardless of my success rate, I was still excited as we lined up to purchase our rentals. Candy and soda pop lined the shelving near the counter. There were Milk Duds, Butterfingers, Dots, Sno-Caps (I never cared for Sno-Caps, but they have been heavily associated with my video rental expeditions), and more. I never did buy candy from Blockbuster, but it served as a reminder that I was about to take part in a cinematic adventure. Yes, those were the times…
All of that has disappeared now. VHS tapes are a thing of the past. Who still uses them? Nobody. Well, there are those ancient teachers who have adopted the No Technology Left Behind Act.
I am not here to hate on VHS tapes. Actually it is quite the opposite. I miss having that ability to skip over anything I did not want to watch. That’s right DVDs, I’m calling you out on this. I do not want to read your copyright infringement laws that are put in size six font and placed on the screen for approximately seven seconds. We are Americans, we don’t read the small print. And for all its shortcomings, VHS tapes understood that. Yes, you may have had to spend six minutes rewinding the film to reach that part, but the being able to fast forward through the seven to ten seconds of warnings was worth it.
We identify ourselves by that which hangs on a pole.
Flags. Not strippers.
These simple things that flap ferociously in the atmospheric conditions that are presented by mother earth; we associate ourselves with its identity.
Once again, flags. Not strippers.
I have seen quite a few flags, the one I do not understand is the Confederate flag.
The Confederate flag represents the Confederacy. You know, those mid-19th century democratic folks who receded from the Union in order to protect their way of life. Well, when put like that, it does not sound half bad. It even sounds patriotic until you realize they are protecting the institution of slavery.
So it befuddles me so when I see someone waving a Confederate flag. Are people aware of the contention that flag contains? It is supporting the southern antebellum lifestyle.
No, no, no…Do not get overwrought when I question if you are a racist. You should firmly be aware of the adumbration the flag carries. You may be a supporter of the southern activities of today, and that is fine. You just need to find a flag that recognizes that and not that you are a racist hillbilly.
So because of the Confederate flag wavers, I have placed an order for a swastika flag.
You see how you jumped to the assumption that I was anti-Semitic? By Confederate flag logic, I am just a supporter of Germany. That would not fly with the swastika flag (pun intended) and it should not for the Confederate flag.
I would like to add to this topic that I would love to time travel to the 1860s.
You may not ask me why, but I will tell you anyway.
I would like to go back to 1862 and walk into a Confederate meeting. I would take the stand and announce to them that I was from the future. I would then state that their party, the Democrats, would elect the first “colored” president of the United States. Congratulations.
I am assuming I would have to then pull a John Wilkes Booth and hightail it out of there. Hopefully without breaking my leg, or being shot by a castrated man.