Hell Freezes Over: The A.M. Duck Comeback Tour

Dear Mail Clerk:

Thanks for remembering me! Finally! I've just been sitting here, waiting for someone to ask where I've been, cuz I ain't begging for your attention. Freelz and the wasabi mashed potatoes! You gotsta come to me if you want the patented AM Duck take on This Crazy World. I don't need you. I don't need none of you. Wreck. O. Nize.

But to answer your question, yes, I've been in heaven, if by "heaven" you mean "an emotionally fulfilling yet dangerously physical relationship with Judy Greer, star of Jawbreaker and The Village." You might be asking yourself what happened to TV's Lorelai Gilmore, the Belle of Stars Hollow, but I don't really want to get into it; suffice it to say that one Luke "Butch" Daines is not very high on my list of People I Don't Want to Run Over in a Hummer. "What?" What? What kind of answer is that, douchenozzle? Freelz! When Lorelai Gilmore asks you to marry her, you say "Hellz yeah!" not "What?" But I digress. At any rate, it's clear that Lorelai doesn't want the Duck Diggler anymore. Her loss, sez I.

But Kitty Sanchez and I are very happy now, and I've got the scars to prove it. We're holed up watching the Undelcared DVDs at the moment--Seth Rogen: best writer/actor ever?--so I gotsta go, but be on the lookout for more massive missives from yours truly in the fyootch. Wreck-o-nize!

Loves,
Angry Magic Duck

What sucks?

Thanks to The Unofficial John Westmoreland Memorial Tribute Webring for linking to yours truly. Finally, somebody recognizes my genius.

And better late than never: ENDEMIC TREPONEMATOSIS SUCKS, Y'ALL! WRECK-O-NIZE!

Ombudsmanship, y'all (the "Why you been gone so long?" edition)

Howdy, y'all. A Picture of Elvis Inscribed to June Carter Cash here, the official ombudsman of this here bloggertronic interweb diary thingy. The main man A.M. Duck has been on hiatus for a bit, and frankly, he's a mite peeved that no one's been wonderin' what happened to him. So today's complaint is from none other than the Head Duck himself. Take it away, boss:

Dear A.P.o.E.I.t.J.C.C.--

What the frizzle is this nonsense? Freelz! Here I am stuck in a got-damn bomb shelter in Florida for a month and a half (long story, the point of which being that while Lauren Graham is both hot and scarily good at predicting the weather, her hurricane prediction was a month off, and the thought of spending a month and a half stuck in a bomb shelter with her, while initially appealing, is most defs a BAD IDEA, schnapps and wreck-o-nize and all that jazz) and when I finally get out I expect to see some news crews or a fricking candlelight vigil or a parade or a Sting-organized rescue-effort-funds-raising all-star jam (title suggestion: "Where the Duck?") or SOMETHING, and all I get is my feathers tousled by some damn tropical storm bushwah. Peppermint schnapps! And after I finally waddle my way to an internet cafe to check out the Brigade--SURELY, I thought, there would be an outpouring of tearful missives asking what happened to their precious idol who is, yea, like unto a god to them--I discover that I have 0 comments! Zero! Comments! Not even that dude who thinks I don't know who the Ramones are bothered to chime in with a victory dance. Freelz! What the duck is wrong with you seakrons? When I get back to LA I am gonna be so pissed. Right now I'm hitching a ride with Diddy and Fonzworth cross-country as we Cock the Vote out to a bunch of yokels all over this great country. Freelz, who decided that Arkansas should get a say in the election? Yo, my T-Mobile Sidekick (I'm hoping if I plug them, they'll send me money) is about to run out of batteries, so I gotta cut this off. You best watch out when I get home, Elvis, because I'm blaming this whole debacle on your bloated, dead-ass head. Wreck-o-nize!

Hugs and kisses,
Angry Magic Duck

Well, this ombudsman has nothing to say. I am properly chastised but good. As soon as I figure out what "seppuku" means, I think I'm going to commit it. Anybody spare a quarter for a peanut butter and banana sandwich?

Special deathiversary ombudsmanship

Howdy, kids. I'm a picture of Elvis Presley inscribed to June Carter Cash, the official ombudsman of this here blog. Today is the anniversary of the death of the golden god of whom I am a photograph, so to mark the date, let's dig into the Angry Magic duck mailbag.

Dear A.M. Duck--
My mom says she's tired of me sitting around the house all day, eating Fruity Pebbles and watching reruns of Walker, Texas Ranger (the manliest show ever) and writing angry letters to fictional characters. She says she's going to kick me out of the basement. I mean, what am I supposed to do? Get a job? She already kicked me out of the bedroom I've slept in for thirty years--isn't that bad enough? Help me, Mr. Duck--I am nothing without your guidance!
Sincerely,
#1 Chuck Norris Fan

Dear Mustachioed Kickboxer Luster-After:
Angry Magic Duck can't answer your request personally, as he's currently putting the Duck Diggler to Lorelai Gilmore, but as a rule, he recommends the following Six-Point Plan for a Better, More Duckly Life:

1. Floss. Prevents plaque, bad breath and the gum disease gingivitis.

2. Play more Advanced Dungeons & Dragons. It's rad-tastic!

3. Cultivate a wide array of imaginary friends and enemies. Become bestest pals with Superman; constantly antagonize a stuffed toy duck.

4. Start a blog. Tell a handful of strangers how to be cool, just like you!

5. Tell your mom to take that stick out of her ass and leave you alone, 'cause you're too busy flossing and playing AD&D to move out of the basement. And be sure to say it like this: "Geez, Mom, take that stick out of your ass--oh, wait, is that my dick?" Seriously, she'll think it's hi-larious.

6. Floss again. You can never be too vigilant when it comes to oral hygiene.

Hope this helps!
Love,
A picture of Elvis Presley inscribed to June Carter Cash

Google ads=awesome

As I type this, the Google-provided ads at the top of the blog are for the Gilmore Girls Season 1 DVDs and hand-carved duck decoys. Schnapps! That's a full night in for this enraged enchanted waterfowl--porn (i.e. digitally enhanced images of the lovely Lorelai Gilmore) and a sex-partner substitute (i.e. a (hopefully lifesize) duck decoy) to warm up my cold, lonely nest. Hooray for Google and their targeted marketing! Wreck-o-nize!

Ombudsmanship, y'all

Howdy. I'm a picture of Elvis Presley inscribed to June Carter Cash. I'm the new ombudsman for The Angry Magic Duck Brigade. I ain't exactly sure what an ombudsman is, but I believe it means that if you got any complaints about this here fine piece of interweb journalism, then I'm the person you direct those complaints to. So if you've got a problem with something that nutty duck says, you just tell ol' Uncle Elvis about it, and he'll make it all better, y'hear?

In the meantime, here are a few great bands I just found out about:



Talking Heads



Television



The Ramones



Patti Smith

Dig those crazy sounds!

Bass-Playing Hottie of the Week

Apparently the bassist for The Minders, though she appears nowhere on their website. Do you even exist, bass-playing hottie? Or are you just a stray piece of bar debris that landed on Mail Clerk's camera and randomly formed the shape of an attractive young woman playing a bass? Why won't God answer these important questions? Why won't God give me that pony I asked for?

(thanks to Mail Clerk for the picture)

***UPDATED!*** Thanks, Computer Support, for pointing out that this is Joanna Bolme of The Jicks, currently on tour with The Minders. Schnapps on Stephen Malkmus, "career/Korea" style.

Holy shit, I have a fan!

Check it out: some seakron took offense to one of my massive missives and decided to school me in the difference between good and bad music. Peppermint schnapps, freelz! Like I don't know who the Sex Pistols are. Who could ever forget those four lovable scamps Mickey, Mike, Peter and Davy, and their hilarious TV show? Wreck-o-nize!



The "Sex Pistols"

Proust! PROUST!!!!

Many apologies, loyal Duck-watchers, for my extended leave of absence from this, my own personal pond here in the Cyberblogotron. Here's what happened: my new squeeze Lauren Graham asked me to accompany her on a whirlwind sex tour of Europe and the Orient, and I, being a gentlemanly duck, had no choice but to say yes. And oh, what wonderful sex we had, in all four corners of the globe.

But I'm back now, and I figure it's high time you, faithful readers, got to know A.M. Duck a little better. So I'm answering the Proust questionnaire, thanks to Gojira and The Unofficial John Westmoreland Memorial Tribute Webring.

1. What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Being apart from Lorelai Gilmore's sweet, sweet ass.

2. Where would you like to live?
In Stars Hollow, fictional home of Lorelai Gilmore.

3. What is your idea of earthly happiness?
A whirlwind sex tour of Europe and the Orient with Lauren Graham, TV's Lorelai Gilmore.

4. To what faults do you feel most indulgent?
I have no faults, unless perfection is a fault.

5. Who are your favorite heroes of fiction?
Lord Asriel, Lucifer, the ducklings in Make Way for Ducklings

6. Who are your favorite characters in history?
Schroedinger, Torquemada, Audobon

7. Who are your favorite heroines in real life?
Dorothy Parker, Elizabeth Bishop

8. Who are your favorite heroines of fiction?
Lorelai Gilmore, Lyra Belacqua, Lee Holloway, Tank Girl

9. Your favorite painter?
Gustave Moreau

10. Your favorite musician?
Kim Deal

11. The quality you most admire in a man?
The ability to stay the fuck outta my bizness.

12. The quality you most admire in a woman?
The quality of being Lauren Graham, TV's Lorelai Gilmore.

13. Your favorite virtue?
Gylliciousness

14. Your favorite occupation?
The American Indian Occupation of Alcatraz Island, 1969 - 1971

15. Who would you have liked to be?
Max Medina

16. Your most marked characteristic?
My ginormous bill

17. What do you most value in your friends?
Their sweet asses

18. What is your principle defect?
My consuming obsession with TV stars and their sweet, sweet asses

19. What is your dream of happiness?
See #3 above.

20. What to your mind would be the greatest of misfortunes?
TV's Lorelai Gilmore dumping me for some C-list dipshit like what's-his-name from The OC.

21. What would you like to be?
Dictator-for-life of the moon.

22. In what country would you like to live?
Ducksylvania

23. What is your favorite color?
Yellow

24. What is your favorite flower?
The moth orchid

25. What is your favorite bird?
The noble duck

26. Who are your favorite prose writers?
Robert McCloskey, Philip Pullman

27. Who are your favorite poets?
John Milton, Denis Johnson

28. Who are your heroes in real life?
I have no heroes, for the only idol I worship is myself.

29. What are your favorite names?
Angry Magic Duck, Lorelai, Spanky McTubewhizzle

30. What is it you most dislike?
Quackin' quackaz

31. What historical figures do you most despise?
Any figures I despise are soon to be historical, yunnowhumsayin? Schnapps!

32. What event in military history do you most admire?
I liked it when those guys kicked those other guys' asses.

33. What reform do you most admire?
When my dad stopped smoking crack

34. What natural gift would you most like to possess?
The power of flight--oh wait, quack you, quackaz! I already got it!

35. How would you like to die?
Crushed by sex

36. What is your present state of mind?
Hopped up on goofballs

37. What is your motto?
"Schnapps! Peppermint schnapps!"

Out and about with A.M. Duck

As should be blindingly obvious, this duck lives in Hell-Ay, so it's both my privilege to see celebrities in their natural habitat, and my solemn duty to report their activities to you. Here's the latest scoop from my adventures in Hollywood. Wreck-O-Nize!

--OC stick figure Mischa Barton attended a Raw Foods Cookery class at the Whole Foods Market in Sherman Oaks on Wednesday. She was seated next to porn star and Mensa member Asia Carrera; the pair were engaged in conversation throughout the class, barely paying attention to Chef Rutger lesson on the tastes and textures of various roots, and left together in The Cokemobile, aka Adam Brody's 1997 Jetta, recognizable by its LUVCOKE vanity plate. Brody, however, was nowhere to be seen, though the scraggly-bearded homeless gentleman waving the "WILL WEAR A T-SHIRT PROMOTING YOUR INDIE BAND ON TV FOR FOOD" sign on the 405 entrance ramp did look awfully familiar.

--I caught Mandy Moore Fan Club President Michael Stipe at the Getty Center on Tuesday, attempting to hang a self-portrait in their "Photographers of Genius" exhibit. When asked why, Stipe replied that he wasn't sure if "Photographers of Genius" meant the photographer or the subject was the genius, so he wanted to cover all his bases.

--Last week I spotted Gwyneth Paltrow and baby Appletini strolling around the La Brea Tar Pit park on Wilshire, accompanied by Thom Yorke and his youngun 01001110, aka Stoli Ohranj. Chris "The Scientist" Martin was conspicuously absent. Yorke was taking the opportunity to teach the children about the wonder of extinction, specifically how no living creature can withstand the crushing forces of time, so you might as well give up trying now.

--Hooty McBoob and Chesty LaRue, aka Lindsay Lohan and Hilary Duff, were comparing their implants late last Saturday with Twinkle, president of Transgendered Prostitutes and Reality Show Loggers Local 457, at the corner of Santa Monica and Orange. All three agreed that Twinkle's were the best.

--BLIND ITEM! Which smack-junkie rock 'n roll widow/professional crazy person was seen outside the AMC Burbank 16 on Sunday giving a not-entirely-pleasurable-looking blowjob to which recently retired CIA director/upcoming author of The American Paradox: Bush Is the World's Biggest Dick, and Yet Has the World's Smallest Dick in exchange for an AMC gift card which she then used to see which unfunny, racist ogre-themed kid's movie, all while being videotaped by which formerly virginal teen pop star wearing a shirt that said "HAVE I SLEPT WITH YOUR BABYDADDY YET?"

--Traffic on the 101 was backed up for hours last Thursday as Andre 300 and Big Boi waged an epic battle in their ten-story tall MechaPimp warsuits to decide whether Outkast's next single will come from Speakerboxxx or The Love Below. Big Boi lost, but the real losers were the children and staff of St. Mary's Orphanage, which was unfortunately crushed by the giant Timberlands on Big Boi's MechaPimp.