MoPod Show 2.0 - Gay Comedy Podcast

I’ve become insanely dependent on spell check the past decade or so. I’m not a bad speller, but sometimes in the flow of things my fingers go faster than my brain and I transpose a letter here or there. Sometimes I may even exchange one homophone for another. (heh heh…homophone…heh) Most of the time it doesn’t matter. I just run spell check or in the case of most of my writing it is in informal settings where it isn’t noticed or doesn’t matter. But there are sometimes when there IS no spell check and it DOES matter. For example, if you are a tatoo artist.  I encourage you to ask your tatoo artist for a writing sample before they load up their ink.

My friend Djave pointed out a gallery of pictures to me last week that is as amazing as it is tragic. Not only are there some really unfortunate misspellings, but there are also some people who haven’t learned that photographs rarely translate into tatoos very well. The picture above, I think you will agree, is downright horrifying

See the full gallery of grammatical, spelling, and photographical horrors here.

I remembered a word used on a game show and decided I would check it out on Google because my Microsoft spell checker was unable to get its tits around the word ‘pabble’ properly. The word IS ‘pabble’, it’s a real word and I remembered it. At least that’s what I believed until several of the worlds most frequently used spell checkers started fucking with my brain and telling me they had never heard of it.

Of all the dictionaries, of all the languages in the world that I frequently rely on, are the dictionaries supplied by Google and Microsoft.  I bet you do too, huh? You get stuck for how to spell a word and you type in to MS Word and “Hey Presto!” MS Word just pumps out your correctly spelled word after you spell check it.

Well not always.  Was I frustrated when even Google couldn’t find the word ‘pabble’?  Yes I was. If Microsoft fails you think, well that’s par for the course. When Google fails, you think OK, there is no commercial reason to put a page ranking on the word ‘pabble’, so it is not going to show up. What do you do when Google fails? When all else fails, go to Wikipedia!

Wiki is like an internet commando on a search and rescue mission! If your information has been hijacked and kept captive some where, Wiki sharpens its bayonet, scouts the territory out and skewers it for you! Wiki is to words what a big game hunter is frightened starving carnivorous tigers, or so I thought.

The trouble was even Wikipedia had no reference to ‘pabble’.

What was I going to do? My dear word pabble needed rescuing; I was the man that was going to do it!

Stephen Fry, being the self acclaimed, publicly proclaimed queer beacon of intellectuality and hilarity immediately came to mind. The very brainy and very gay Stephen Fry hosts a fun reverse brainy game show called ‘Qi’ on the BBC. Qi stands for Quite Interesting and the web site is www.qi.com.  I posed the question on a forum on Qi, and eventually some one on there had access to the Oxford English Dictionary online (usually costs about 10 dollars per month to use) and they found a reliable reference for me to use in Wikipedia!

I promptly marched right back to www.Wikipedia.org, joined the site as a registered contributor and put pabble in to the pages of web history at last!

Well, not quite.

They said that pabble was not “quite interesting” enough to keep in the encyclopaedia BUT (Hurrah!) they said it would be given a nice home at the next door neighbour’s house, otherwise known as Wiktionary!

Pabble actually means the noise that boiling liquids make, say like porridge bubbling on the stove!

Listen to Stephen Fry’s podgram’s on iTunes under comedy. If you can download Qi from on the BBC iPlayer, its worth it because it’s great. Mr Fry may be nerdy and funny but not as nerdy as Skip and Drew on www.gayscifinerds.co.uk.  Skip and Drew Love the Mopodshow, we stay moist between episodes!

When I first came out, a book was given to me that proved really helpful in my personal development. Yes, even more helpful than the mopod show. The book, The Four Agreements, is short and a quick read with just enough mystic spice to engage your right brain without wandering into new age-y or scientologist territory. The basic premise is that if you make these four agreements with yourself and try to live by them, lots of things will line up for you. Its not magic and I’m not perfect… a work in progress.

The four agreements are:

1. Be true to you word

2. Assume nothing

3. Don’t take things personally

4. Always do your best

As I read headlines from this week: the California step backwards to potentially nullifying hundreds of same-sex marriages in November AND a story about a housing development in Florida that is successfully excluding gay people from renting there. I feel my four agreements being assaulted by my brain’s survival instincts. Its hard not to assume the bigotry that seems apparent here and its also hard for us not to take this kind of thing personally. Even so, we have to recognize that challenges like these are actually reflections on the instigators of these things. Some one else’s short sightedness is about them, not us. As long as we keep building up examples of healthy, happy, professional, talented, etc. etc. gay people leading productive and interesting lives, that’s all that matters. And if taking the high road doesn’t motivate you, remember the best revenge is living well.

I thought about writing an even longer entry this time just to harass Ruphus.  I don’t think it will really turn out to be as long as the last one, but I will write as much as I can.  Some highlights from this past weekend include a dinner, a demon, a drink, and a Denise.  

First was the dinner.  I went to Texas Roadhouse, which I have decided to call Texas Roadkill or Texas Road Whore.  I kind of prefer Texas Road Whore, it is a little less expected.  Anyways, I went there with a friend “Mo-Problems”.  There was an unexpected wait of about 40 minutes, which was surprising since it was only 5:30.  Once we got seated we were immediately given some bread and butter, that kept getting replenished.  On top of that were enormous portions of food and never ending soda refills.  I guess everything is really bigger in Texas.  After that meal I had a Texas size food baby gestating in me that felt as if it would burst out through my front much like an alien.  Thankfully, that did not happen.  I probably won’t go back since it seemed more about quantity and not quality…although, it was a lot of food for the money. 

Next was the demon.  I went to see Hellboy 2:  The Golden Army.  I was excited to see this move since I think Guillermo Del Toro is brilliant.  Visually, this was an amazing movie.  There were also some great parts.  The story, however, was a little all over the place and I felt too much was being forced into one movie.  Mo Problems had actually fell asleep during part of it….I didn’t think it was that terrible.  I do usually like Selma Blair and look forward to seeing her in the American version of Kath and Kim.  The Australian show is awesome. 

The next item on the list was a drink.  I went out for drinks on Saturday night with Mo Problems.  We went to our normal bar, and my favorite in Omaha, Flixx.  It is a smaller bar, but I like it.  There are actually windows in this bar…..I know, a lot of queens would prefer a dark corner, but I like the windows.  The people who work there are also very nice.  I noticed an attractive bar tender when we first walked in.  Later, he revealed these large “bear” paws on his chest, one on each side over his pecs.  I could only think that Ruphus should be here…he’d love it (although I have to admit, it was nice to look at).  We also met a guy that came over to our table.  I cannot remember what he said his name was, but he kind of reminded me of Crispin Glover…I think I will call him Crispy Queen.  He actually seemed rather eccentric, but kind of cool at the same time.  As the bar filled up, it became more and more apparent something was different.  It was the smoke…there wasn’t any.  Omaha bars are now smoke free.  The evening ended with a game of spot the Kevin Dillon.  If you have read the previous posts, you may have seen the picture of Kevin Dillon with his Lesbian look.  The game is to find Lesbians with the same hair do, or that look similar to him in that movie.

Lastly, was the Denise.  A friend of mine got me an autographed picture of Denise Crosby.  He even had her sign it “To Peasha-with love”  As a sci-fi geek and lover of Star Trek the Next Generation, this is definately something I will treasure. My friend also told me that when he asked her to sign it to Peasha, she repeated “Peasha” back in a hesitant tone.  This made me think of a favor I would like to ask of anyone willing.  Next time you are at a sci-fi type convention, and see Denise Crosby, ask her to autograph something to Peasha.  I wonder if she will start to think it is some sort of conspiracy…….

EDITORS NOTE: This is the first in what we hope will be a series of guest blogs from some of our favorite bloggers and podcast friends. This one comes from the Gay Sci Fi Nerds from the UK. Enjoy.

Trying to think of a good strap line to get your attention didn’t take us long for our first Gay Sci-Fi Nerds post for the Mopod Show. Drew likes the sound of “Pimple Tits and the Big Bad Puff” where as Skip was more into “Teen bitches who try to get their bim-boys into trouble at movie theatres”. So “what do you mean?” we hear all you asking.

We don’t need to spell it out for you as we think you have probably encountered this before your self. I don’t know if this is a global phenomenon but I suspect that even gays in the USA will have had this type of encounter in the dark, in a cinema, watching movies. No, not a BJ in the Cineplex toilettes! No, not a sneaky hand job with your cock poking through a hole in the base of a jumbo popcorn bucket!

Actually have you ever tried poking your cock through a hole in the bottom of a popcorn bucket? By preference, we’d recommend you do it with a full sized family bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken, while it is still hot. Remember to remove the plastic cutlery first, unless you like it that way. Amazing how handy those moisture wipes can be!

Sorry, small digression in grease, holes and food fantasies, back to the main post.

Imagine the scene with us. You and your ‘Boyfriend-du-Jour’ or ‘Rug-Munch-al-la-Moment’ if you’re a lezza – have happily sat down in your perfect seat. You’re about to watch a brilliant movie that you have been looking forward to seeing for ages. Every thing is cool, you’re comfortable, the lights have gone down, the trailers have finished and the movie starts. You are totally into the movie, things are exciting and, then your seat is moved from behind. It starts ever so slightly, but rapidly gaining boldness with foot pressure - the seat is being fucked about with and it blows the whole enjoyment process to pieces.

Have you ever noticed it is the same silly blond haired teen ho bitch each time? Not literally the same silly bitch* but the kinda bitch that fits the exact same description. Call ‘em “Pimple Tits” for short

The type of bleach blond silly little girl that only got rid of her training bra by stuffing dried up fried breakfast eggs sunny side up, in to her wonder-bra. Yes she is cute as a button. Yes she has a cute boy friend with her, who incidently is like a little pixy. Fact is the boyfriend is always very, very fuckable, but there he is, sat with ‘Pimple Tits’. What ‘Pixy Boy’ (as they shall be hence known as) is unaware of is that ‘Pimple Tits’ is psychotic. ‘Pimple Tits’ wants to start the argument but wants her ‘Pixy Boy’ to finish the (what she’s hoping) fight for her!

Being gay releases you from all the fake gender respect. Just because ‘Pimple Tits’ is cute, won’t stop this ‘Big Bad Puff’ from turning around and telling her to get her “fucking feet off my chair Pimple Tits!”

* The only exception to this rule occurred over the course of a year’s cinematic viewing at the UCI Cinema in Lea Valley, where a particular ‘really-really-psychotic-Pimple Tits’ had to spout inane nonsense throughout the entirety of three movies. All through the movies she either repeated everything the actors said or tried to guess the out come of the scene, while talking at volume so every one in the cinema could hear her. Given that this ‘really-really-psychotic-Pimple Tits’ had an impressively large, strong, Black boyfriend, we of course, sat there without fuss (after all we are Gay Sci-Fi Nerds and we don’t carry guns or knives). The third time ever so loud ‘really-really-psychotic-Pimple Tits” started up, we had our own secret weapon - another girl! In fact we had the company of a younger female sibling, who had no hesitation in telling the bitch to “shut the fuck up!”

She did. After that, we never saw or heard them ever again. The moral of the story is, don’t be afraid to take your younger sister with you when there is a man’s job to be done! Have you had endure a ‘Pimple Tits’ trying to get her cute ‘Pixy Boy’ boyfriend into trouble by kicking or talking behind you? Share your stories with us the Mopod Show. You can always catch Skip and Drew babbling inanely on their own podcast at http://gayscifinerds.co.uk

Back in the 1980’s, it pains me to admit, I fell in line with the millions of other white bread midwestern kids who bought into the parachute pants myth.  I remember taking my paper route money to J.C. Penny’s to buy these amazing nylon, zipper encrusted, keys to the urban city.  But the disappointment set in days later when my back spin and moon walk never really materialized.  They went from a badge of honor to an embarrasing blight on my wardrobe.

This morning I sat at breakfast with a group of colleagues, including an over the top guy (who happens to be gay and just a tad shallow with a splash of bitter) who spouted ‘black girl’ talk much to the amusement of the midwestern middle aged women around us.  I could just hear their inner monologues, “Gay men are so sassy!”.  After about the third time he used the word “fierce!” (with obligitory snaps) I was fighting to keep my scrambled eggs down.

I went through the ‘black girl’ phase too, as many of you heard during the many of our shows.  When done well…it is funny.  Its kind of the schtick that holds the guardian crack whore together, which I love.  However, when this guy did it, It seemed so awful and cliché.  I found myself wondering if I was witnessing the adult gay male equivilant of nylon parachute pants being paraded around the playground before school.  Humorous, and a little sad.

I have been playing with this cool visualization tool called Wordle that allows you to take big piles of text and analyze it. It creates these cool pictures of the words used in the text. Here is one based on the mopod show’s rss feed.

This is a poem written by our close friend Faggoty Andy while at Commandrew’s going away party. It is really inspirational.  Magnetic poetry is the new blog.  Okay probably not.

You can click on the image for a close up version.

For those of you who have been with us for the past three years, you know that mopod land has been under a constant evolution. We like to keep thing moving and grooving and reaching out in new directions. So we’ve decided to do a little remodeling and update our look and format a bit.

We’ll still be cranking out the podcast as usual, but we’re adding more content on the blog. Why? Because we’re shameless media whores - THAT’S WHY! We’re hoping to update the content of the site more often with news, dramas, woofs, advice, recipes, and more.

We’re hoping that you all like it and shower us with praise and money.