Monday, January 25, 2010

The Apex of Hilarity

Brothers and Sisters,

It was brought to my attention recently that some members of our community have been rolling their eyes at one of the greatest and most enduring comic routines: Animals Dressed as Humans. Any man who does not laugh at this:


...is surely a man made of stone. It's a chimp wearing a very small sea captain's outfit. It's funny. The multiplicity of reasons why it is funny are quite convoluted and technical -- if you wish to find out more, drop me a line.

As evidenced in the following picture, chimps in clothing have been delighting us since the turn of last century:



Look into that chimp's eyes and tell me he's not absolutely content with his lot in life. Wearer of suits, purveyor of laughter. Angry Puppet challenges you not to smile! In fact, to not smile would be to insult little Consul up there. He busted his nuts perfecting the Animals Dressed as Humans routine -- show him some respect.

Now, whilst chimps do hold the monopoly on the Clothed Animal market, the oeuvre extends far beyond our primordial friends. Below is a clip from the classic "Dogway Melody" (circa 1930s), a complex "dogsploitation" film which explores such themes as adultery, embezzlement and substance abuse. In this particular scene we gain a frighteningly bleak insight into the world of dog-on-dog sexual harassment -- yet never once does it cease to be funny due to the old-timey garb they're wearing:


Breath-taking. Rue the day the Animal Rights movement destroyed this clever and confronting genre of film. 

And so today, whilst on break from jamming on the sax along to my Roxette LP, I toyed with a bit of mathematics. For a long time, I have believed in a particular animal/article of clothing combination which may well be the Apex of Hilarity. And today, I think I found that combination. Behold!



I understand if you are finding the notes above difficult to penetrate; that is why I have distilled all the information into an easy-to-read table:



As you can see, through rigorous research, testing and analysis, I deduced a scoring system to reveal the funniest animal and the funniest article of clothing. The sloth, god bless 'em, rated as the funniest animal. The bathing suit swept the board clean and won the title of funniest clothing article. Therefore, the Apex of Hilarity is a sloth wearing a bathing suit.

As far as Angry Puppet is aware, no such occurrence has been captured on film yet. If it did, though, I am not sure the photograph could actually withstand the weight of its own hilarity, and thus would collapse in on itself, much like a neutron star dissolving into a black hole. If anyone ever captures the Apex on film without their camera bursting into flames, please let me know.

Other hilarious combinations include a cat in sunglasses, an otter in a turtleneck sweater, and a chimp in rollerskates. The lowest-rating comination was a dog in a hat.


Not funny.

I hope you have all learned something today. Please, next time you find yourself proclaiming that email your mother sent you with the pug dressed as Darth Vader as "low brow" ... have a think about the noble tradition behind it all.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Letter from a fan.

Dear Mr A. Puppet.

I am disappointed that your hiatus has lasted so long. Recently, whilst trawling the information superhighway, I came across a really rough patch of boredom. I sought solace in the comfort and wisdom of your celebrity blog, only to be cast out amongst the bitter nasturtiums of an un-updated web page. Keep it fresh Mr A. Puppet, we're all riding your coat-tails with our mixed metaphors.

Love,

A. P. Servant.


Dear Puppet Fan #2654,

I apologise for the lack of puppet-related activity on the internet recently. If you cast a look further down my blog you will see that on Sunday I reported I was suffering from a very serious infliction known as Swimmer's Ear. Sure, you will hear of a few wowsers here and there brushing this condition aside as merely an "ear ache". I thumb my nose at you, wowsers! I can assure you, Puppet Servant, I'm a very sick boy. The last few days for Angry Puppet have involved a lot of darkened rooms and bed pans, gentle sobbing and ringing a little maid's bell so my PR team could fetch me flat lemonades and chicken noodle soups. Please believe me when I tell you that Swimmer's Ear is no walk in the park.

Anyhoodle, it seems the worst of it is behind me. Today I managed to muster the strength to hit the "On" button of my laptop. But even that drained me of energy, and so I am presently dictating this entry to PR team member Richard, whilst PR team member Jenny fans me with a palm leaf. Whether I shall ever regain 100% of my strength is yet to be determined. Baby steps, I suppose.

Oh, also, I was suffering from a spot of Puppet's Block. Luckily you wrote me your email, and thus, gave me something to talk about. So kudos to you-dos! As token of my appreciation, Puppet Servant, I will be sending you a 5% Off coupon for any of the fantastic T Shirts in our merch range**.

Live large. Til next time,

- Angry Puppet. 

**Not to be used in conjunction with any other offer. Angry Puppet reserves the right to retract his 5% Off coupon if he decides you look gangly, awkward, or just plain silly in one of his T Shirts. Angry Puppet does not wish for his face to be associated with such sartorial tomfoolery.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Health update!

Just got back from the doctor. Turns out I'm not dying.. I have Swimmer's Ear. So uh, ignore all that death request nonsense in the previous entry. Boy is my face red!

Angry Puppet is at Death's Door

I'm dying, I think. My usually glossy and voluminous hair is falling out in clumps. I have developed a hacking cough. I feel like Mimi at the end of La Boheme. I always knew, though, that when Death came a-knocking at Angry Puppet's door it would be a somewhat theatrical affair. A fitting exit for what has been a very poetic life. At least I will leave a beautiful corpse.

In the event of my death, please grant me the following:

- A casket carved from a deep-sea coral bed, lined with silk woven by wild forest spiders (not low-grade spider-farm silk), lacquered with the blood of a thorough-bred stallion, then blessed with the tears of a newborn child;
- At the funeral, Gwyneth Paltrow sing her victorious cover of "Bette Davis Eyes" (I don't care who she duets with -- perhaps Brian Wilson if he is available?);
- Strictly no photos to be taken during the proceedings (the press will be circling like piranhas; and whilst I empathise with the Public's curiosity, I do not wish my death to be cheapened by the gossip magazines);
- I be cremated wearing my favourite Sunday morning kimono;
- That my ashes be cooked into a delicious Moroccan stew, and each funeral attendant eat a spoonful, and thus, shall carry a piece of Angry Puppet with them for eternity. I hear ashes are hard to digest. I'll be hangin' about your large intestine for a while; a long while. BTW, I have a great recipe for a spiced pumpkin and almond stew. With citrus cous-cous on the side. It's marvelous. I shall leave the recipe clipping in my bedside drawer.

That is it, I think. I shall leave it up to you, dear readership, to grant my dying wishes. My PR team will notify the press once I have "crossed over".

Much love.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

A sonnet, regarding my marriage to the sea.

I once loved a girl, a sweet maiden fair
If we'd have met, then she might have loved me;
But she's wed to a dip shit with over-styled hair
And so I must marry the sea.

The sea's an old salt, she's dark and fermented
And like me, her soul's deep and blue
But as a bald Irish woman once lamented,
Nothing compares 2 U.

But, oh, I must cast my great pain to one side
So into the ocean, knee-deep I shall wade
Be mine, briny waters, til the day that I die!
(I wonder, though, will I get laid?)

My sweet maiden fair, betrothed to a douche
And I, with my salty blue bride
Our love has extinguished, an almighty whoosh
As I get swept away with the sea's tide.

I'm so full of anguish, eyes bleary and bawling
More angst than a song by James Blunt
I hate to resort to petty name-calling
But jeez, Russell Brand, you're a really nasty guy for stealing the girl of my dreams away from me.

By Angry Puppet

Angry Puppet Merchandise

I've gotten a few emails lately from my dedicated fan base requesting puppet merchandise. And so, I have spent the last couple of days beavering away, along with my newly established PR team, to bring you the first of what I am sure will become a vast collection of puppet-related merchandise.

This first T Shirt I'm not so sure about, however:


PR Rep Jenny came up with the slogan. Puppetude? Really, Jenny? I paid you how much to devise a portmanteau which only sort of makes sense? Talk about naff. You, Jenny, have naffitude.

On the other hand, PR Rep Richard came up with this pearler:


Now that's a slogan I am proud to lend my image to. I especially like the double exclamation points at the end of "Hey Everybody". Take heed, Jenny: this is a T Shirt for winners.

The final T Shirt in our range was masterminded by yours truly:


Jenny and Richard thought this one to be a bit sinister, but I reasoned with them that one man's "sinister" is another man's "edgy". And although "Hey everybody!! I am awesome" is a stroke of marketing genius, I also wanted a T Shirt in our range which would best encapsulate the man behind the Puppet. The diminutive Angry Puppet, if you will. Four words of pure, unadulterated angry. And I believe this T Shirt may be it.

Now. From T Shirts to crockery:
The mug wholesalers had a surplus of unsold "World's Greatest Dad" mugs, so they gave them to us for a discounted rate. Hence, I pass the savings onto you. Ignore the Dad part. I don't know.. only drink from the Puppet side or something.

That's it for now (Richard and Jenny got bored faffing about on Photoshop). I will let you know once we have more mad rad merch in the pipelines.

Alrighty. Angry Puppet has twelve pages of Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret to go, and he's itching to find out how it ends. I'll be goddamned if she doesn't start menstruating. What a waste of my reading time otherwise. I'm all like, Hurry up and menstruate already! It can't be that hard! Jesus.

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Angry Puppet's life: More six-word summaries

A snake, eating its own tail
An imperfect dove with clipped wings
The last player picked for baseball
Always the bridesmaid, never the bride
Sorrowful horse, ridden by unsavoury jockies
The incorrect formula on your spreadsheet
A mistreated child's toy; stuffing torn
Silver birch: beautiful tree, deadly roots
An atlas: outdated within a week
Gold sequins on a cheap t-shirt
Phrase, "I wouldn't sneeze at it"
I want to go home now

Angry Puppet's life, summarized in six words:

The sound of one hand clapping.

Monday, January 4, 2010

Bothersome

The man who sits in the cubicle adjacent to Angry Puppet has a deep voice, but a girlish cough. How does that happen?

Sunday, January 3, 2010

Lunchtime Regrets