From this date in 2009:
Brian J. Noggle wishes he had a whippet to name Goode.
To be able to say "Noggle," you first must be able to say "Nah."
From this date in 2009:
Brian J. Noggle wishes he had a whippet to name Goode.
This DVD includes two of Gallagher’s comedy specials from 1983, The Maddest and Stuck in the Sixties. I recognized a lot of The Maddest from heavy rotation on Showtime in the years where I spent a lot of time in a mobile home with but a television (well, and a brother, and friends who were prohibited from actually being in the trailer when my sainted mother was at work). However, it’s entirely possible that Showtime played The Messiest, a 1986 compilation of bits from other specials.
Gallagher deals with topical comedy and relies on a lot of props for his humor–a giant sofa to jump on, a motorized school desk, an animatronic baby doll in a high chair representing his new childm and of course the Sledge-o-Matic that he uses to smash produce up to a watermelon at the end of each show. In Stuck on the Sixties, he does hit a couple of political points to contrast the early Reagan era with his idealized version of the sixties, but overall, it aged better (at forty years old now) than, say, Dennis Miller’s The Raw Feed from only twenty years ago. Or maybe I have extra affection for the comedian because I watched his special or specials over and over again when I was younger.
When I was browsing the DVDs at the Friends of the Library book sale this spring, a woman waved her hand at the DVD and said that he’s funny. So I told her about how his brother would do his act sometimes, but it turns out I got the story wrong: His brother looked a lot like him and did his own shows, perhaps hoping people would confuse him with the Gallagher until the Gallagher sued his brother to make him stop, and he did.
Gallagher toured until 2020 when the pandemic shut everything down, and he passed away last year. I kind of wish I would have seen him live, but one wonders if his comedy became more political as everything did in the 21st century. I can believe not, at least until I run into some of his later comedy specials on DVD.
From this date in 2012:
Brian J. Noggle must be a child of the seventies. The only things he can grow are peaches and herbs.
I was going to plant some seed potatoes today, but the winds convinced me to stay in and write book and movie reports instead.
Bayou Renaissance Man posts a cartoon:
I myself made that very, or well a very similar, pun that was posted in the Top 5 List’s Club Ruminations newsletter fifteen years ago:
Given that I’ve completed my run through the calendar years’ best Facebook memory gags from years past, perhaps I should mine my entries to the Ruminations. In 2007-2008, I had several appear in the daily email, including some in the Bad Rumination of the Day category.
I saw this listed in the church bulletin this morning, and I was eager to see how they would do:
I mean, the youth chorale members are small, but they are many. I guess how well they would do in a battle would depend upon who the 1 was and how well he or she kept the vocal horde in front of him or her, stacking the singers so only one or two could attack at once.
But, turns out, this meant that the youth chorale was singing the first verse of the hymn. Not fighting versus 1 person.
A little disappointing to be sure.
Next thing you’re telling me is that we’re not going to see Pennywise the Clown during Holy Week.
Sure, the slide might be talking about the cantata the previous slide refers to. Or it could refer to It.
From this date in 2015:
They really hate it when you pronounce it “Chic Ago” like it was faddishly cool a long time in the past but nobody likes it any more.
Which makes it a sterling reason to pronounce it that way.
On this date in 2016:
I tried out this new handshake that I learned at martial arts today in church.
In related news, I’ve been communicated from the church. Apparently, this is when a Protestant church says you’ve done something bad and you’re now a Catholic. I didn’t know that was allowed.
Apparently, I think Catholic humor does not go out of style, as I posted just this weekend:
I’m on the Pastor’s Bad List, again.
Friday night, I sneak into the fish fry, and when I turn around with a plate full of golden breaded, flaking POPERY and hush papists, there’s a Lutheran church elder with a notebook.
One of the pastors at my church responded:
Give me that elders name and I’ll make sure that notebook page somehow disappears and you’ll be ok with the Lutheran pastor
And I rejoined:
Sorry, Pastor, I will not be tattling on anyone who might or might not have been consorting with the Whitefish of Babylon.
Actually, I am not sure if that’s Catholic humor. I must be a raging anti-papist to make gags like that.
From this date in 2011:
Brian J. Noggle just tied the karate belt on his son’s gi based on an eHow tutorial. Noggle hopes this is the traditional way and not the one that signifies the wearer wants to challenge the sensei to mortal combat for the right to lead the dojo.
Of course, he’s not wearing the knot. So it could be worse.
Followed by a comment later:
Aw, nuts.
Well, two positives from this faux pas: 1., perhaps the avenging his brother thing will encourage the younger son to study Karate more dilligently. 2., I made $5 betting on the sensei.
A year later, the younger brother would start classes. A couple of years after that, mommy and daddy started taking classes. In 2022, 3 of 4 reached black belt rank, but only daddy still takes classes there.
From this date in 2011:
Brian J. Noggle eats a lot of processed foods to defend himself from organic cannibals.
From this day in 2014:
My six year old sang, “I’m talking with the man in the river/I’m asking him to change his ways.”
That’s less Michael Jackson and more Stephen King.
I should make a whole category for these things to ensure I’m not repeating myself again after a year.
From this date in 2011:
Brian J. Noggle is going to put on a ski mask and go caroling just to see if the press accounts describe him as an unknown wassailant.
I did not, of course, as going house to house in rural Greene County takes a lot of time. Also, knocking on people’s doors, ski mask or no, is a risky undertaking.
From this date in 2011:
Brian J. Noggle thinks a Wiener Dog Demolition Derby would be way cooler than a Wiener Dog Derby. Are you listening, Hermann, Missouri?
From this date in 2019:
Listen, when you declare an attacker in the combat phase, your opponent can play the Blake Martinez card which drops one of your creatures before it can attack.
I don’t care if your creature is 8/8. Martinez makes the tackle.
What do you mean I can’t use Green Bay Packers football cards?
This game sucks.
In contemporary news, Blake Martinez, who has had stints with the New York Giants and the Los Angeles Raiders, has retired from the NFL to focus on trading Pokemon cards:
Blake Martinez retired from the NFL because he had to catch ’em all.
The former Las Vegas Raiders linebacker called it quits last week at just 28, telling the team he was hanging up his pads just days after recording 11 tackles in a loss to Jacksonville.
Martinez revealed the news on his Instagram, saying he chose “to step away from this career at this time to focus on my family and future passions!” Well, turns out that passion is very similar to something we all used to dabble in … trading Pokemon cards!
Martinez recently sold a Pokémon Illustrator card with a Gem Mint 9.5 rating for $672,000. Don’t ask what all that means, because I don’t know.
Brian J. Noggle’s Facebook feed: Where you get tomorrow’s news today, albeit in a typical oracle fashion of a bit of humor is a riddle.
Also, yeah, I know, I was using the Magic: The Gathering metaphor. But I was being oblique and cryptic, see?
From this date in 2015:
I like old movies and eighties action films.
Oh my god, that’s redundant now, isn’t it?
That Facebook post would only be 7 years old now, so not an oldie of its own yet.
When dusting my tchotchkes, I use the Thetis method.
That is, when I pick them up to dust them, I clean every part of them except where my fingers hold the tchotchkes.
A two-fer from this date in 2016:
I’m looking to get financing for my new real estate project, a set of apartment buildings with small units for young men just starting out.
I’m gonna call them “The Dude Abodes.”Except maybe in New Mexico, where they’d be “The Dude Adobes.”
I say “two-fer” because the first was the original post, and I immediately commented with the second.
On a long enough timeline, I imagine I will start repeating my best puns of the day. I’m going to have to start searching the blog to make sure I’m not repeating. So far, so good on these quips.
From this date in 2012:
Brian J. Noggle thinks it’s wholly appropriate that the SAM’S CLUB list has AA Batteries on it.
In the comments, Gimlet says it took him a minute to get the joke. Ten years on, it took me a minute to re-get it, too.
From this day in 2010:
Brian J. Noggle agrees that good fences make good neighbors. They’ve always got jewelry and the latest electronics at prices far lower than retail.
From this day in 2014:
I briefly considered raising meet goats, but the track shoe budget looked exorbitant.
That would have been before my school sports dad days. Now that my boys are both in high school, it’s strictly band dad. Although I do go to the high school football games where they march.
One does not have to go all The Da Vinci Code or National Treasure to find clues that will lead to some treasure. I have discovered some sort of conspiracy or puzzle in popular music across the generations.
So a recent (2019) song from Four80East, “Cinco Cinco Seis” has played a bunch on WSIE and DirecTV’s smooth jazz station many, many times:
In it, they repeat like an electro-jazz numbers station, “Uno dos tres quatro cinco cinco seis.”
Yesterday, on the radio, I heard “Pretty Fly (For a White Guy)”, the 1998 hit from The Offspring, and it, too, says that number:
1-2-3-4-5-5-6. What does it mean? Some people might say it’s counting to get the beat before starting music, but the music has already started.
It’s coordinates. Or something.
Does the number 480 and the direction East mean anything?
The beginning of “Pretty Fly (For a White Guy” samples the beginning of 1983’s “Rock of Ages” by Def Leppard:
According to the official account (if you can believe the “official” story), this made up bit of German-sounding language was, again, designed to be the count for the music to begin–in this case, the music does begin after the words.
But are the words a pass phrase? An indicator that one must start at some point in Germany (a rock?) and go east 480…. something? Is 1234556 the password, proving that the people who have hidden vast treasure in Germany or Eastern Europe were as bad at passwords as people on the Internet?
The clues came out in 1983, 1998, and 2019. Will the next clue come out in a little over 20 years? I cannot wait that long.
If anyone needs me, I will be in a room in the basement, posting photos and text and drawing arrows between them until I solve this mystery.