Monday, March 29, 2010


They say that the lore of mermaids first came about when land-deprived sailors saw sea-cows on the horizon and mistook them for fish-women. The same is said about unicorns and rhinoceroses. This fact tells me one thing: People were stupid. Either that or eye-glasses were not in everyday use yet. Also, sailors are/were desperately horny.

So if many of our mythological creatures were created due to mistaken identity, how did gnomes come about? As far as I can tell, they look nothing like any kind of animal or natural structure of any type. They have big, pointy red hats. Did they have traffic cones in Renaissance-era Europe?

At the same time, I am supremely jealous of a time when magic still existed in the hearts of the people. Yeah, it's ignorance maybe. But how much would the world kick-ass if you thought there were little leprechauns and gnomes and brownies hiding around every shrub and tree?

If I lived in Olden-Times, I think my day would go something like this:

9am: Get up and milk my gryphon.
10am: Play Wack-a-Troll
11am: Sponge bath from water nymphs
12pm: Lunch with Merlin
1pm-3pm: Nap
4pm: Steal Bilbo Baggins' ring
5pm: Almost die from Black Plague - saved by fairies
6pm: Nap
7pm: Righteously burn some witches
8pm: Nap
9pm: Go to blood-letting center
10pm: Be cursed into a frog. Have frog sex just to see what it's like before being saved by fairies.
11pm: Invent time machine.
12am: Spoon for night with Scarlett Johansson. Yell at her for making stupid Tom Waits cover album.


Sunday, March 28, 2010


I could never be a fraudulent psychic. It takes a dedication and willing swarthiness that I don't think I could muster.

Case in point: Ectoplasm. Ectoplasm is defined by as "The visible substance believed to emanate from the body of a spiritualistic medium during communication with the dead" and "An immaterial or ethereal substance, especially the transparent corporeal presence of a spirit or ghost." During the Spiritualist Movement's heyday from the 1840's to 1920's, many seance mediums claimed to be able to produce the gooey substance from their orifices. And when I say orifices I mean any and all orifices. And when I saw all orifices, I mean the orifices even Skinamax wouldn't show.

What really freaks me out about the whole thing is that the shyster mediums used cheese cloth to mimic the ectoplasm. I'm going to be honest, I'd never even heard of cheese cloth before I discovered this fact. It sounds delicious. I would eat a cheese cloth burger in a second. But can you imagine shoving something up your hoo-ha just to make someone believe you were in touch with the dead? It's gross and it's brilliant. Who's going to check? Here's a sentence that's never been uttered in all of human history: "Excuse me, but is that cheese cloth dangling out of your butt-hole?" Say it to someone at a bar sometime. If that person doesn't punch you or call the cops, run for your life. Because that person is hiding something up their pooper and it's dangerous enough to keep restrained in a sack.

Apparently this whole debacle went on for a number of years before people started to catch on to the truth. I think the worst part would be the inevitable drudgery of the whole thing. "Ugggg, it's Tuesday. Time to stick some more cheese-cloth up my ass. I shoulda been a zookeeper."

Friday, March 26, 2010

Crystal Balls

I am addicted to buying stupid shit.

My room is littered with Buddhas, shark jaws, Nordic chess boards, a two foot Bigfoot statue, funky rocks and crystals. Because of this, I often times find myself in stores called things like "The Eye of Horus" and "Then the Oracle." I'm a 32-year-old man. Is this acceptable? Last time I checked, I hated Enya. I don't dress like Stevie Nicks. I like manly things like basketball and punk rock. How did I get so New Age? Gross!

The fact of the matter is, if I see a Tibetan singing bowl or a Amethyst lamp, I'm probably going to buy it. Lately I've had my eyes set on a crystal ball. What would I do with a crystal ball? I'm not psychic. I'm not going to tell anybody that their bike is in the basement of the Alamo. But the sheer audacity of having a crystal ball in my room makes me giddy. Also, it can be used as self-defense against burglars. If someone breaks in, I can bash them over the head and yell out a witty Die Hard-esque line like "Shoulda seen THAT coming!"

Usually when someone sees my room, there are one of two reactions:

1) They say "This room is so you, Mike Brody." Then they smile and leave.

2) They look uncomfortable, nod politely and say "I'm going to go now." Then they smile and leave.

Whatever! If you can't handle a Megalodon tooth and my 15 minute spiel on how old it is and how I totally bartered a clueless shark tooth salesmen in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan for half-price, then you don't deserve to be educated. You don't deserve to see goblins coming by looking through my Fairy Stones (I prefer to call them Odin Stones - once again, manly!)

So I guess the point of this post is this: Do you have a crystal ball for sale? How much and what color is it? Can it be used as a dangerous weapon and do I need to burn sage to cleanse it?

It's a miracle that I have a girlfriend.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

75% chance of awesomeness

Did you know that it can actually rain fish?

This isn't pseudo-science, this is a real thing. It's not common, but every once in a while a tornado will go over a body of water (it's called a water-spout) and pick up fish, frogs, eggs, kelp, whatever and lift it up high into the sky. We aren't really sure how long these things stay up there, but eventually they come down. Sometimes they're even frozen. The cool thing is, they usually come down separately, as if they were sifted by their weight. So if it rains frogs, it just rains frogs. There's no weeds or fish or pebbles included. Until those come down too, by themselves.

I can't even imagine the amount of confusion this would instill in someone. Picture yourself at a park having lunch. You see rain clouds. "Oh honey, we better get a move on...looks like it's going to rain." Then, WHACK! A mackerel right to the kisser. You'd probably think some bastard threw it at you, but then another one comes and another. Now it's literally raining fish. I would probably be wondering if I did something to piss off some local nerd-wizard at this point. "I'm sorry I made fun of Dungeons & Dragons! Rush is a really good band! I love your duster! Please, make it stop!"

So theoretically, if it can rain things of various sizes and shapes, like eggs and fish and amphibious creatures, it could rain just about anything of a certain size. Maybe with even stronger winds it can pick up something even bigger? Think of the possibilities. The potential for awesome bewilderment is limitless.

I wish no bodily or financial harm on anybody, but imagine the minds that would be blown if it rained:

Hardcore gay porn: A porn-shop gets destroyed in a twister. One minute someone's walking to church and the next minute multiple copies of "Fun Boys Vol. 3" are dropping from the heavens. "But I thought you DIDN'T want us to do that?!"

Little people: I'd really like it if a bunch of dwarfs re-enacting the Civil War could get swooped up and rain down on...anything. Really, anything. I don't care if you're at a camp fire in a trailer park or being sworn in at the White House, I imagine you'd piss your pants at the sight of mini-Abraham Lincoln hitting a car windshield. Everyone would think time machines make you shrink!

Manatees: Let's say you live in Minnesota. You've never seen a sea-cow before. Well, today is your lucky day, because a couple hundred have been air-lifted in from Atlantis (I don't know where they come from). It's okay, PETA people, because in my fantasy manatees are so adorably blubbery that they BOUNCE! And if you can jump onto one of their backs in the 0.00001 seconds before they bounce off again, it'll take you to up to Bifrost, the mystical rainbow bridge of the gods! Happy day!

On final note...I'm a little bit worried that a google search of Mike Brody will now possibly reveal the words "Hardcore gay porn." In italics. Welcome, fun boys!

Tuesday, March 23, 2010


In this day and age, it's getting harder and harder to believe that Bigfoot exists. With globalization, deforestation and the Internet, the world is getting smaller, more occupied and more supervised by the minute.

And yet, other than shady eyewitness accounts and flat-out fraud, nobody's been able to find him.

So where can he be hiding?

I have a few ideas. They are all places that no sane person would want to go. Places where humanity and self-respect have run for their lives. But when you're a Bigfoot on the lamb, you have no choice.

1) Phish concerts - He's hairy and he smells bad. Not only would he fit right in, but half the people there are on hallucinogenics and would just think he's a hippy security guard. Plus, he would kick ass at hacky sack.

2) Star Wars conventions - I once knew someone who claimed to have seen Bigfoot get into a UFO. Which if you think about it, looks just like Chewbacca getting into the Millennium Falcon. Are all Bigfoot sightings really just confused Star Wars fans? Or is Star Wars based on TRUTH? Think about it....maannnnnnnnnn.

3) North Dakota

4) - I know, is not a place. All I'm saying is, Bigfoot might be a girl. Because I've seen "her" picture on this site. Her interests include: Beating her chest, pooping in the woods and methodically disposing of her brethren's corpses over the years so as to not attract detection. And Phil Collins.

5) And here.

Monday, March 22, 2010

El Chupacabra!!!

The Chupacabra has the best name of any cryptozoological creature.

Bigfoot is a giant monkey-beast. Nessie is a shape-shifting dragon or something. I think the NJ Devil wears a gold chain and has a reality show on MTV. Those are all decent names. But the Chupacabra...the CHUPACABRA! It's only a mangy little dog. And yet it strikes fear into the hearts of men with it's NAME! It's like a Luchadorian masked wrestler. I don't know if dogs can have zippers for mouths, but I imagine that it does.

Even in translation it's scary. "Goat-sucker". Would you mess with something that sucks goats? No way! Even if it was a poodle, you'd stay away from it. It definitely doesn't sound legal.

DOG OWNER #1: My dog can shake hands and sit.
DOG OWNER #2: My dog is fully trained as a service animal.
DOG OWNER #3: Mine sucks goats.
DOG OWNER #1 & #2: We're going to leave now.

This all gives me an idea. I don't think that I'm a particularly intimidating/scary person. I'm tall, but as many of you know I walk like a duck and my arms just kinda flail about. So in an effort to make myself more mysterious and dangerous to everyone I meet, I've decided to adopt a Spanish language nickname. I typed in three "frightening" phrases into the English-to-Spanish translator and narrowed it down to three. Quiver in fear!!!

Mike Brody is:

1) El Recordatorio De Vencimiento De Caballo - "The Horse Tickler" (Too long, I think.)

2) Monomonomono - "Monkeymonkeymonkey" (Monkey's aren't inherently scary, but have you ever seen what a chimpanzee can do to someone? And I wouldn't just be a monkey...I'd be a monkeymonkeymonkey. That's three times the chimpitude!)

3) El Chupacabra Dos - "Goat Sucker II" (What's scarier than the original? A sequel! It's like Gallagher II. Which gives me an idea. I don't want to kill goats by sucking their blood. So maybe I'll just find an inflatable mallet and bop the goats on the head at the zoo. I'm sure somebody will find that scary.)


Monday, March 8, 2010

Things not to say to your girlfriend

Last night I was watching SpongeBob Squarepants with my girlfriend. It reminded me of how much I liked working at the elementary school years ago and how I missed the kids. So I said:

"You know, if I didn't do comedy, I would love to be a teacher. Except I don't think I could teach in a rough neighborhood, or with the violently retarded. No offense."

What I meant was "Oops, I realize that 'retarded' is an offensive term to some and I apologize if you take exception to that." But what it ended up being was me calling my girlfriend "violently retarded". Which is ironic, because clearly I fall more neatly into that category myself.


I walk like a duck.

It's a problem.

Both of my feet point outward in a diagonal fashion and I have size 14 shoes. It looks like my legs are constantly trying to run in opposite directions. Because of this, there are a lot of things I'm not able to do physically, like:

1) Approach a woman in a sexual manner.

2) Go downhill skiing without being torn in two.

Everytime I walk towards someone, it looks like I'm trying to corral them. I'm like a sheepdog that frightens people.

And because of the Dumbo/Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer fantasy world that we all grew up in, I keep thinking that someday this deformity of mine will come in handy. Like one day, I'll save the world because of my uniquely stupid feet and all the tripping and rodeo clown comments will have been worthwhile. Unfortunately, as shown by Dumbo and Rudolph, redeeming physical awkwardness seems to be predicated on being able to fly. I've fallen off enough ladders to know I can't do that. There must be some other kind of hidden super-power that I possess that I will discover someday accidentally. It doesn't even have to be a super-big one. I'll take whatever! If I find out that, although I have duck-feet, I also have the ability to melt cheese from up to 50 feet away, I'd be cool with that. People would like that. I would make friends over nachos. I don't ask for much.