The Angry Magic Duck Brigade

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

2005-08-17T13:50:00.000-07:00

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?

2004-10-01T17:42:00.000-07:00

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)

2004-10-01T17:21:00.000-07:00

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

2004-08-16T22:50:00.000-07:00

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

2004-08-12T21:36:00.000-07:00

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

2004-08-12T21:22:00.000-07:00

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

2004-08-10T23:54:00.000-07:00

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!

2004-08-10T23:48:00.000-07:00

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!!!!

2004-07-14T17:57:00.000-07:00

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

2004-06-03T15:50:00.000-07:00

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.

Bass-playing hottie of the week

2004-05-27T22:02:00.000-07:00

Sheryl Crow

Yes, she plays the bass.

And, because Mail Clerk demanded it:

She plays the accordion too.

Ducks whose asses I could kick #2

2004-05-27T17:19:00.000-07:00

Rick Dees

"This thumb was just up Ryan Seacrest's ass! Bonaduce, you're next!"

Full disclosure: Rick Dees ain't actually a duck. But he is responsible for the "hit" "song" "Disco Duck," and that's close enough in my book.

Rick Dees sucks because he's a radio DJ. I've never even heard him on the radio, but I know he sucks. How do I know this? Because he's a RADIO DJ, and all radio DJs are douchenozzles. (I'm not talking about turntablists and masher-upper DJs; they're generally all right.) There has never been a good radio DJ in the history of the earth. Either they're smarmy Morning Zoo assholes who take up valuable music-playing time with their unfunny shtick, or they're boring hipper-than-thou college radio DJs who think not having shtick makes them cool. Or else they're one of the many interchangeable heads of the DJ-hydra that works at KROQ, all of whom sound and act exactly alike, even down to their faux-surfer-dude mispronunciation of KROQ: "Kay-rah-kyuhhhh." Even LA's (second-) best radio station, Indy 103.1, has this horrible drive-time DJ named, I guess, Jonesy, who hosts the show "Jonesy's Jukebox." The show itself is pretty damn good, but this Jonesy idiot comes on between every song with his fake-ass Dick Van Dyke chimneysweep accent, pronouncing the name of the station "One-oh-FREE-one" and rambling incoherently about shows he's been to, like that legendary roadie in Wayne's World 2. Just shut up and play the fucking Clash, nimrod.

So that wasn't really about Rick Dees at all. But know this: Rick Dees is a radio DJ, his protege is Ryan Seacrest (King of the Seakrons), and I could kick his ass back to the Last Days of Disco with both wings tied behind my back. Peach Schnapps!

Blindingly ugly chick bass player

2004-05-25T14:09:00.000-07:00

By popular demand:

POST DELETED

Sorry, folks. I had a pic all ready for you, but I chickened out at the last moment because it was too mean. And the chick bass player in question wasn't even "blindingly ugly," just a bit overweight. Far be it from this duck to put down the hefty honeys, especially when they can play bass as well as POST DELETED can. Let it be known that Angry Magic Duck digs chick bass players of all shapes and sizes, and wouldn't throw any of them out of the pond for eating too many crackers.

Bass-playing hottie of the week

2004-05-21T21:15:00.000-07:00

A little something for the weekend:

Britta Phillips of Luna

Fun fact: Before joining Luna, Britta starred in the 1988 movie Satisfaction as a girl who's in a band with Julia Roberts and Justine Bateman, and provided the singing voice for Jem on Jem and the Holograms.

Why I hate T.G.I. Friday's

2004-05-20T19:58:00.000-07:00

This message goes out to all the male douchenozzles at work: Put the quackin' men's room key back where you found it after you do your bizness! When I gotsta go, I gotsta go, and you seakrons are quackin' me off FREELZ! Wreck-O-Nize!

Weekend hijinks with A.M. Duck

2004-05-17T14:47:00.000-07:00

What time is it? June?

What? It's 1:30 on Tuesday? And I'm at work? Is that why people have been yelling at me all day? Quackin' quack, how the time do fly when you're drunk, zonked out on goofballs and engaging in interspecies sexual congress that exists in sort of a gray area, legally.

That, my friends, is how I spent this past weekend. I kicked off the weekend on Ferrdayy night by dumping Lori Petty, my long-term live-in girlfriend for three whole days now. Why'd I send Lori to Dumpsville, population Tank Girl? Because I realized I was putting the Duck Diggler to frickin' Tank Girl, freelz 'n shit. Yo, did you see that flick? Me neither. Schnapps! Peppermint schnapps!

With Lori "Tom" Petty out of the picture, I set about procuring all the items on my shopping list. Item #1 was 190-proof corn likker, which I make right at home in the bathtub, and I'd just whipped up a new batch. "Always be prepared with a bathtub full of moonshine" is the A.M. Duck motto, so #1 was taken care of. Item #2 was the aforementioned goofballs, so I just popped up to the corner, cut Ray-Ray the dealer's Achilles tendon, and took his inventory while he was writhing on the ground in pain. It's gonna be a good while before he can try to exact revenge, but I'd better be good and ready. He didn't get a look at me, but I did let out a couple of "Wreck-O-Nize!"s as I was flapping away, and everybody knows that's my quackin' trademark. Wreck-O-Nize!

With the likker and goofballs already doing their work on my liver, bloodstream and nervous system, it was time to find item #3: the fine wimmens. And, as everyone knows, the best place to find intelligent, sophisticated, goal-oriented women is the Sunset Strip. Plus, most of them wear their pants low enough to see their thongs, and that's totally hot.

I started off the night by hitting Dublin's, and by "hitting Dublin's" I mean I hit Dublin's with my car--yo, in case you forgot, I'm a quackin' duck, and neither wings nor webbed feet are too good for operating a motor vehicle, especially when said duck is zonked out on moonshine and goofballs. But I did manage to run over a couple of Seakron clones, so that was cool, and I booked it to Miyagi's before the fuzz showed up. My Yakuza pals slipped me into the secret back room, and I spent the next hour eating spicy tuna hand roll off the ass of Lauren Graham, TV's favorite (or second-favorite, depending on how you look at it) Gilmore Girl. She was all into my shit and wanted to come back to Stately Duck Manor, but I was all like...no, wait, I told her to come by because I was totally into her shit too. Tank Girl's got nothing on Lorelai Gilmore. Totally doubleplusgyllicious, freelz. Wreck-O-Nize!

On the way home I think I killed a hobo, but I'm not 100% sure on that. Maybe it was just a speed bump.

On Saturday I did laundry. Hey, even an Angry Magic Duck wants his clothes to smell springtime fresh.

I spent Sunday cradled in Lorelai Gilmore's arms, sobbing uncontrollably as I came down from goofball-induced high and Lori Petty lobbed bleach-filled water balloons over the front gate of Stately Duck Manor, apparently not taking the breakup well. Tank Girl's persistent, I'll give her that.

Grey Lady on my jock

2004-05-14T14:22:00.000-07:00

I was just swingin' on the flippity-flop at Stately Duck Manor this morning when some cob-nobbler from the New York Times called me up to get juicy tidbits for his "Blogging Lexicon" story. I told him to stop being such a lamestain and hung that shit up, cuz me and my main squeeze Lori Petty had some serious bizness to attend to. If you know what I mean!

But after I hit that sweet Tank Girl ass, I thought about how the world could really benefit from my knowledge of all the hip happenin' lingo we throw around here in the Cyberblogotron. But fuck the NYT--I'm keepin' it reals for all my quackaz on the metaphorical street. Next time you're at one of those cool Blogga parties I don't get invited to, here's all you need to say to pretend like you're in the know.

Ezekiel Stankentino | The coolest guy in the room.

Gyllicious | Hot in an adorably shy yet kinkily self-mutilating way, like Maggie Gyllenhaal in Secretary. Near-synonym: dunst (self-explanatory, but not to be confused with durst, which is explicated further here and here).

John Murphy's Wife | An attractive female bassist, or, by extension, any attractive female.

Quacka (pl. quackaz) | Everybody who isn't me. Can be used amicably ("You're my quacka") or pejoratively ("Quack you, quacka!").

Schnapps! | Signifies when someone makes an incisive or witty comment about/to a seak. Can be emphasized with the addition of peach or peppermint or, if you're in Russia, potato.

Seak (abbrev. form of Seacrest) | A douchebag, especially one with a stupid haircut or annoying catchphrase. Wreck-O-Nize!

Wreck-O-Nize! | The preferred way to end a communique. Like saying "Over," only without that meth-addled truck-drivin' 1975 CB-radio nonsense. Wreck-O-Nize!

Delicious but not cool

2004-05-13T17:36:00.000-07:00

I got caramel all up in the feathers in my bill area! So doubleplusungyllicious! Quack you, Black Dog Coffee! Make your Fake-ucinno right next time!

Ducks whose asses I could kick #1

2004-05-13T11:26:00.000-07:00

Donald Duck

Put on some pants, biatch. No, wait, maybe you should keep them on, because you'll just have to take them off again when I KICK YOUR ASS.

And take a speech class while you're at it.

Where's my cartoon?

2004-05-13T10:56:00.000-07:00

Andre 3000 gets his own cartoon and I don't? I know the dude is an omega-level mutant supergenius, but I'm a quackin' Angry Magic Duck! That's "magic," as in "I could fuck Harry Potter's shit RIGHT UP." And I don't need no British jailbait or redhead-with-a-face-made-for-punching to help me do it either.

Yo Andre, how 'bout hookin' a quacka up? A little guest-star action? I'll even take one of your goofy pseudonyms--just call me Ezekiel Stankentino, the Supanova Lova. I do my own stunts, too. Wreck-O-Nize!

A fake story about my job

2004-05-12T21:29:00.000-07:00

So for a long time I worked at T.G.I. Friday's. Not really, but let's pretend. And what I did was chop up vegetables and dump the cheesesticks in the fryer and other assorted non-skilled kitchen tasks. I think the proper term is "sous chef," except this was T.G.I. Friday's, and they don't use such highfalutin language over there. I was doing that for a couple of years, and I was good at it (which wasn't too hard). So the cooks started noticing the good job I was doing, and I got moved up to a cook position. Things were all right. More money, a better job, more respect (as far ast that goes at Friday's). Not what I really wanted to do--that's still to open my own restaurant--but still a step up. I was a Friday's cook for a while, and then I moved over to Chili's, and then Friday's called me and said they wanted be back long-term. So I came back to Friday's and worked for a month, but then they said I'd have to take a break for about a month and a half (my analogy is starting to break down here...) and then I'd come back for more pay. So what could I do? I turned down Bennigan's for this job. I called a couple friends and got another sous-chef job at Applebee's. A step down, but only temporary, right? The funny thing is, some of the cooks at Applebee's were sous-chefs under me at Friday's. That's kind of a weird position, but I can deal with it for a few weeks. So then Friday's called me back and said that I could come back and be a sous-chef for them until my full-time cook position starts next month. What the hell, I said, I could always use the money. So now I'm slicing vegetables and frying jalapeno poppers for two different places, and the head sous-chef at Friday's was one of my sous-chefs not a month ago, and every time somebody asks me what I do I have to say I'm only doing this for a few weeks to pay the bills before my cooking job starts in a few weeks, and they look at me like I'm delusional.

Maybe I should just get out of the chain-restaurant business altogether. This perturbed enchanted duck needs to spread his wings and fly, you know?

Walking Cliche #1

2004-05-12T10:06:00.000-07:00

Driving to work today, your favorite waterfowl saw a group of young filmmakers setting up their equipment for a shoot on the sidewalk. They all had that student-filmmaker look, if you know what I'm saying, but one in particular nearly got his ass run over by me for being such a sartorial douchebag: he was actually rocking a beret, AND a goatee, and he looked like every stereotypical snobby director in every bad movie-about-movies you've ever seen. This duck didn't spot any puffy director's pants, but maybe he was going to change into them later.

F*ck a Duck

2004-05-11T22:05:00.000-07:00

Please oh please do what the title suggests, only with a "u" instead of the asterisk, because this particular duck's angry magic powers aren't doing shit in terms of getting any tailfeathers. Here's what angry magic powers are good for: being fucking awesome in general. What they're not good for: getting laid. So hook a quacka up, huh?

This desperate horny plea is especially directed at the hot female bass players out there in the Cyberblogotron. Are you female? Do you play bass? Are you hot? (That's a trick question--if you're female and you play bass, you're hot.) Angry Magic Duck wants you to give him a call! I don't know why I likes it, but I likes it all the same. Let's take a look at some prominent bass-playing hotties:

Kim Deal from the Pixies and the Breeders

The first and still the best. She got an ovation at Coachella just for lighting a cigarette and singing some "ooh-oohs." She's 42 and could have had any shirtless stoner in that audience, this duck included.

Amanda Tannen from Stellastarr*

The best thing about the 17,000-degree Stellastarr* show in the "Gobi Tent" at Coachella. This duck was wet, and it wasn't just from the sweat. Holla!

Sharin Foo from The Raveonettes

She's 3/4 Danish, 1/4 Chinese, and her name is Sharin Foo! What more do you want?

Carrie Von Bondie from The Von Bondies

Her lead singer got beat up by Jack White, but who cares about that--I would pay cash money to see a CVB/Meg White Jell-O Smackdown.

Grievous Mallardies (the first of many horrible duck puns)

2004-05-11T19:03:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the quackin' quackyhouse, quackaz! I'm Angry Magic Duck, and you're not. I'm a duck, and I'm magic, but I'm angry, which only increases my magic powers. How exciting for me! And how horrible for those of you who get on my bad side! So stay on my good side! Read my quackin' blog!