bush approval rating Brain Farts Brain Fart brain farts brain fart brain-fart brain-farts brainfart brainfarts LEO Louisville Eccentric Observer parody lampoon satire Louisville Kentucky Kevin Gibson kgramone@aol.com kgramone humor cat's ass fart anna kournikova zeitgeist bush approval rating
Brain Farts was a weekly humor column that ran in the Louisville Eccentric Observer from mid-2000 until the summer of 2002. It was, well, eccentric. And occasionally satirical. And sardonic. Some liked it, some hated it; some just didn't get it, and that's OK. There were times when I didn't get it either. I've compiled here some of the archives from Brain Farts for the enjoyment of friends, family and anyone else who happens by. I also have written some new Brain Farts, and added some links and other trivialities that you shouldn't be too concerned with.
Unless you're as bored as I am.
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Brain Farts: The Day Bingo Made My
Brain Explode |
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By Kevin Gibson |
This is a Brain Fart that, to my recollection, was never published. It was replaced at the last minute when I came up with How Dead Will YOU Be for the Dec. 5, 2001, issue of LEO. I don't believe I ever submitted it afterward.
An old friend of mine talked me into going to a bingo parlor a couple of years ago. I haven't been the same since.
Waiting in long lines to buy bingo sheets, I felt something was amiss. I thought I was in a poorly-lit gymnasium, but I soon discovered a tobacco haze had settled on the ceiling, probably still there from previous weeks and months, maybe even years. The discharge from smokers long since dead lingered in the air. You see, at this particular bingo parlor, EVERYONE smoked. Everyone but me.
Thank god my friend had an extra dauber. Whatever happened to the little round, red chips of yesteryear? Thank you, friend, for the dauber.
As our tuxedo-less master of ceremonies began calling out numbers ("B-10 ... I-24 ..."), I looked around. I then remembered where I had seen these people before. I was a teen-ager at the state fair midway. I recognized the bearded lady almost immediately. And Joey the dog-faced boy. Or is that his sister sitting over there? Hard to tell through all the smoke.
Pull-tabs! Pull-tabs! They're selling pull-tabs!
The man at the next table who was talking in slow motion mentioned his plan to assassinate NASCAR driver Jeff Gordon. His motives, strangely enough, made perfect sense to me. (What is that smell? Is it a boiled hot dog? Pickled egg? Or is it body odor?)
It was during the coverall that my brain came apart. I felt a hotness in my ears, then I began to sweat and to feel just a little uncomfortable, although I didn't know why. Moments before, I had almost won the earlybird game, and the emcee would NOT call my number. That's when my head started to hurt. Now I only needed three more numbers to win the coverall. THREE MORE.
For some reason I began to think about an episode of "The Dukes of Hazzard." It was the one in which Boss Hogg tried to get the Duke boys framed for a crime they didn't commit (or was that in all of the episodes?). Numbness in my right side. Everything is blurry, and sound seems too far away.
Slow-motion guy is laughing, and I think I see a tooth fall out. He looks at me and says, "Dale Earnhardt, baby. Woooooooooo!" He sticks his dauber in his left ear as he speaks.
Then came a sickening pop inside my head. The moisture on my neck, I later find out, was gray matter oozing from my ear. My tongue hanging and drool coming on like a sponge bath of the damned, I turn a deaf ear to reason, which was telling me to stand up and run from this wretched place.
Can't go now. Can't. Want pull-tabs. Emcee speaks: "O-76." "Bingo!"
Damn.
Contact the writer at kgramone@aol.com. Here, Joey, have a dauber.