Thursday, October 28, 2004

Parties and ... Curses, foiled again!

Last weekend (Oct 24, 2004), we (me) at Portroids celebrated our (my) first anniversary of poppin' 'roids with a huge gala celebration (in my mind) entitled "From Carl Tanner Jr to Morgan Freeman: Portroids Year One Huge Gala Celebration!" We (I) had a retrospective slide show of the highlights from the past year, a museum-quality exhibit of portroid images was displayed in a local gallery (local to my computer screen), special guest speakers (I) spoke about the time their (my) portroids were taken and about their (my) favorites from the gallery, and plans were made for Year Two. All this happened in what seemed like the blink of an eye, and in what was literally my mind's eye. Boy, those were some good times. Good times, boy.

I hope you're all ready for what Year Two has in store, because it promises to be one heck-fire of a year (unless I can't repeat Year One portroid subjects, in which case, it'll be one sparse collection dwindling down to two new pictures by Year Four)!

So ... how 'bout them Red Socks? (I find it demeaning to "socks" to abbreviate their already short name with a substitute "x" where "cks" truly belongs. I think it "sux" almost as bad as "thanx" or "x-presso".) 86 years in the breaking, the Curse of the Bambino has gone the way of other curses that seem to disappear into obscurity after a term of intense popularity (like "fartknocker" or "fiddlesticks" or "horsefeathers" or "sh*t-f*cking-c*nt"). Sorry, George Herman Ruth Jr, but your curse is fiddlesticks now. Quoth the Babe, "ah, horsefeathers!"

I wonder if other curses, like the Curse of the Mummy, have also been lifted and we've been so scared of them all this time for no reason. Like, can we go raid sarcophogii now and bring mummy-bones home to feed to our bone-hungry dogs (or to babies who like bone-gnawing - if you don't have a dog, for example)? What about the pre-teen girl's dreaded "Curse"? Can she wear white dresses willy-nilly now? Only time will tell.

In my continued push to thrust my political agenda upon you (like so many strippers' banana-hammocked groins thrust upon you at the local male strip club (local to my computer screen)), here is my last ditch effort to get people to the polls on November 2: I've switched teams this time, campaigning for George W Bush via telemarketing. I've got thousands of registered Republicans from each State programmed into my computer-dialing network, set to call each person once every ten minutes until Tuesday night with the following message, "Vote for George W Bush, vote for George W Bush, vote for George W Bush ..." ad naseum infinatum (that's Greek for "advertisements that make you barf forever"). I think we'll get lots of votes this way.


Monday, October 18, 2004

The Adventures of Chester the Molester

Inevitably, if you name your child Chester, he will be called "Chester the Molester" thoughout his life. Just as inevitably, if I get a chance to awkwardly interrupt someone's dinner in order to take a portroid, sure as shootin' I'll do it (after lingering uncomfortably nearby for an inordinate amount of time).

I added four portroids yesterday to the gallery. The first is an unofficial picture of Robert Redford. He wouldn't really acknowledge me, so I just took his picture with no hope of an autograph. This goes in the UNAUTHORIZED files. Previously, I took an unauthorized and unsigned portroid of Hugh Jackman, but I gave it away, for it shamed me. These bastard photos have no place in my album, but just like every illegitimate child, they're gonna show up sometime or another on some white trash talk show talkin' bout "who's my daddy" and "where you been at" and "give me money" and "I know you just di'int". Talk to the hand, I tell them, just talk to this old hand.

The second portroid will have you asking (pleasantly flabbergasted), "Are you f***ing kidding me?" No, I'm not, and watch your language. That's right, it's Soleil Moon Frye, TV's Punky Brewster. She made a documentary film about Alzheimer's and I saw it and she was there and she was really nice and friendly and a little hugsy. Her movie made me cry and I'll never forgive her for that. Now everyone will declare me a "pansy" and they'll throw clods of dirt at me as I pass. That too will make me cry.

Here's where I tie into the first paragraph (not the Chester the Molester part, but the other part about being a lingerer and dinner-interrupter - OK, the Chester the Molester part too, since you asked). I stood by Kevin Bacon's table like Chester the Molester stands outside a playground, waiting for my chance to get what I want no matter how uncomfortable it makes the other party ("Uncle Chester, I don't like it when we play games like that." "Yes you do"). I missed plenty of appropriate opportunities (like the few times he walked right by me, or when he was just sitting and staring), but thought it best to move in when Mr. Bacon was engaged in a quiet conversation with his tablemates. "Excuse me, may I take your picture?" I meekly asked. He replied with an "of course" and posed halfheartedly. "Could you sign it also?", I pushed my luck. It was my lucky day though, and he did sign it (see? I ain't no liar!). As I was walking away, I congratulated him on the award he had just won, and he melted. No longer was I taking advantage, now we were chums. He smiled, thanked me, and erased the hatred from his soul. Then he taught me how to dance, and we danced the night away. We cut footloose.

The final portroid of the night was of Kevin's lovely and talented wife, Kyra Sedgwick. She was easily approachable and gracious to the last. She asked me if I intended to sell the picture I took. I promised her I wouldn't (so don't even try to offer me any money for it, cause it just isn't for sale (unless you've got like $10)). She then softly said, as she started to walk away, "not that you'd get much for it anyway." And, that is when I started to cry again. Oh Kyra, don't be down on yourself, you are the greatest!

As I walked away, chunks of earth pelting off my sobbing shuddering frame, I looked through my new assortment of portroids and fondled them softly (like so many children at the hands of Chester the Molester).

Handily Yours,

Sunday, October 10, 2004

Brown Barf and Backfires

I got sick. Totally nauseated. The Kensley Flu struck me down hard. I tried to pretend it wasn't happening, held in "the squirts" for about six hours, but by then I couldn't pretend any longer, I let spill (no holes barred). Both sides fighting to be the first and constant releaser. Backfire, switch, forward guns! I had the worst case of brown barf imaginable. I hadn't really even eaten at all that day (this was Thursday), so Erica suggested that maybe the barf was coming up from my GI tract (in other words, backfiring diarrhea), which made me barf all the more. I bet you're wondering why I'm telling you this, as it is indeed a pretty disgusting story. I lived it, so I know. But, the point is that my sickness continued into Friday, thus forcing me to miss work, thus also allowing me some much needed time to make the promised updates. Four new portroids posted, plus ...

The winner of the "Portroids Proudly Presents ..." election has been posted. Finally posted. Follow this link to read all about it. Hear ye, hear ye!

The winner was interviewed, but as you will tell (and tell to all, I'm sure) after reading, the interview kind of backfired. It backfired like the time my cousin Jim Allen wanted to play a game, a word game (and I love me a word game), where he had me sing the old redneck song 'Old Dan Tucker' (you know the one - it's about this hillbilly who washes his face with a frying pan and combs his hair with a wagon wheel and somehow from this combination of events gets a tooth-ache in his heel) but, while singing, to exchange the first letter of every word with 'F'. If you have any sort of forward-looking instinct, you'll see from the title (Old Dan Tucker) his sinister plot. I, at age 9, had no such foresight. "Fold Fan Fucker fas fa fine fold fan," I sang obliviously. Oh, Jim Allen was in a stir and ran off to tell Grandma that her beloved little Ricky was a cussin' up a storm. If Admiral Ackbar was there, he would have alerted me, "It's a trap". Lucky for me, Grandma was no spring chicken and she knew the source of the game. She also knew her little Ricky was too sweet and innocent to blast off obscenities like so many womp-rats in Beggar's Canyon back home. Old Jim Allen got a thorough soaping of the mouth, his plan backfired. I felt sorry for Jim Allen. Always getting into trouble. "You'll never f***ing learn, will you, you little piece of sh**," I whispered to him, "You'll never f***ing learn."

He never f***ing learned.

Learnin' people lessons for 22 years,

Monday, October 04, 2004

Rock The Vote (like a hurricane)

Today is the last day in Colorado to register to vote, so if you are in Colorado (like, you live here - not just visiting), and you haven't yet registered to vote (because you are a procrastinator), and you are barely 18 (and started your own porn website), and you are going to vote for John Kerry (because you hate Bush, but you still love bush (as evidenced by that porn website you started)), and by some unlikely coincidence you happen to be reading this virtually unread blog, go out and register TODAY! And make sure that you actually vote when it comes time to vote in November. Rock that vote - rock it hard!

I've done my part. I promised Al Franken I would. His portroid will be on the site within the next few days.

Speaking of voting ... we have a winner in the "Portroids Proudly Presents ..." fan favorite contest. It was a close race and was decided by one vote (see, every vote counts). And the winner is .... soon to be announced. The winner's site will be up soon. I'll announce it when it is. Congratulations (to the winner)! Booooooo (to the losers)! Losers deserve no mercy. Mercy is for the weak. Don't be a loser (unless you can't help it because you suck at stuff).

Remember to vote (unless you're planning to vote for "W" - then you can forget to vote if you want).

Rockin' it, rockin' it,

Tuesday, September 28, 2004

Kick Ass Merchandise - Anonymously Inspired

True to my word (which isn't always "true"), I got the promised updates posted over the weekend. Hooray for me - I kick ass.

Also true to my word, I got a new portroid today which I need to post (or "which needs posted" if you are grammatically retarded), so once again I am behind on my posting. Don't worry though, because as previously stated, I kick ass.

Over lunch, I met and popped the 'roid of ABCNews Political Commentator Cokie Roberts. I told her her portroid would soon be online. She asked if there were any pictures she could use for self-gratifying, or if this whole thing was just a "sophomorish attempt" at snapshots. I gave her the new portroids T-shirt and she resigned herself to alternate sources for pleasure. Sorry, Cokie, no strokie.

As to the results of the recent vote for who deserves their own rapidly-executed 'Portroids Proudly Presents ...' page, I am still tallying. It's a close contest so far, so get your votes in (if you like to be the 'tie-breaker'). Get them in if you want a say. Even anonymously you can vote. So vote for yourself if you are that vain. I dare you. I double dog dare you.

That's it for now. Not much.

Still kickin' ass,

Friday, September 24, 2004

Let Your Voice Be Heard (and a Portroid 'Where Are They Now ...")

Come hell or high-water, I will have the remaining basic updates online before the weekend is out. The only thing that will stop me is laziness, so barring laziness, expect the remaining updates to be made. Another thing that might stop me is finding something (anything) better to do. That'll stop me like taking a rhinocerous' credit card away stops him from charging. Full stop.

There are a few potential portroids on the horizon, so focus your bi-focals in the general web direction of in the near-ish future.

I'm taking web votes on whom you would like to see as a featured portroid subject. You've all enjoyed the great work I humbly did on pages for Michael Dreben, Reginal Lankster, and Rick DeMint (a.k.a Yours Truly), so let me know who should be next to achieve such heights of fame. Just post your vote as a comment to this message. I'll be assured to see it. Assuredly.

Speaking of Reginal Lankster, he disappeared for awhile after I took his picture. Maybe the Feds got to him. Anyway, just the other day I spotted him, no longer in The Smile Zone, wearing a pimpish hat, mirror Trooper-style sunglasses, and with nicely-trimmed facial hair (mutton chop sideburns and a cleaned-up goatee). He must've come into an inheritance or some such. Good for him. I haven't smiled though in months.

VOTE NOW! (for someone whose picture is already on the site - none of this "write about Jimi Hendrix" rubbish. He's dead. Long since dead.)

Yours Truly,

Monday, September 20, 2004

Presidential Platform and Holes Where They Shouldn't Be

Over the past few days we've been moving into our new house. My dad and mom are here visiting and helping us move in. I got a new portroid (not yet posted) of my mother, but you'll all just have to wait to see it, as it has not yet been posted (as noted in the above parenthetical break). I took the picture just before we left to go to the Carousel Dinner Theater (where I took a previous portroid previously when we were there ... on a previous occasion).

Anyway, the next morning at breakfast, I overheard some locals at the booth behind us talking about how one of their party (an elderly gent) had also been at the CDT (that's what the "cool kids" call the Carousel Dinner Theater). A younger man (mid-30s) at that table, in somewhat disbelieving tones, exclaimed that he didn't realize the old man was a "patron of the arts". He then went on to eloborate his own special brand of ignorance by saying that he himself "needs the 'arts' like he needs a hole in the head". That got me thinking about how people who say they 'need (blank) like they need a hole in the head' actually do need a hole in the head. A bullet hole right through the head. This guy did need the arts, he needed them bad, so his statement was true. I didn't shoot him in the head though. I'm not the guy to give everyone everything they need. I ain't Santa Claus.

I don't endorse putting holes in people's heads (just for the record)(not even if they say they need (blank) like they need a hole in the head)(they do need a hole in the head though)(but that's off the record).

Unrelated to portroids in any way, but somewhat related to my previous paragraphs (in that they are both about killing or wishing people dead (which I don't endorse)), I came up with a new anti-drug campaign. Somehow the goverment should slip millions of fatal poisons into the illegal drug supply, so that it's like Russian Roulette. Roll a joint, smoke it, die instantly (or don't, if you happen to get the unpoisoned supply - then you'll just get "mad stoned"). Maybe it's your first time doing 'coke'. Sorry, you just died. Hey Roy, shoot up some of that heroin in my arm vein. Ugh! I'm not alive anymore! Soon the word will get out that drugs can kill you (INSTANTLY) and then folks will be so scared to use them that they'll quit cold-turkey (and I'm not talking about the kind that makes for a nice post-Thanksgiving sandwich). Some people will keep using, but that's because they want to die. They're suicidal. And that's sad. Forget them. They are the exception (and expendable).

Maybe instead of actually poisoning people though, the goverment can use the media (the goverment's puppet) to lie to people and just say that drugs are killing people (INSTANTLY), that cases are pouring in around the country of good honest drug users dying by the thousands after a single use. Get a frenzy working. Then everyone will stop using drugs (INSTANTLY). Fear tactics always work, even on drugged-out wastoids (they're so damn paranoid as it is).

Well ... that's my proposal. I hope the goverment buys it from me. Maybe when I'm President (DeMint '08), I can put it into place myself. Being President is a lot of work ... and I need more work like I need a hole in the head.

Don't do drugs (at least not the poisoned ones),

Thursday, September 16, 2004


Various pieces of my personality, or persona if you will (if you won't, then "personality" it shall be), are taken from other things. Hey, I like that joke, I'll use it later. That guy has a cool half-slide, half-step walk, I must use that sometime. Oy, what's that I just heard? That is worth repeating around someone who will think I made it up myself. These and other things are the things that make up a personality (persona? Still no? OK. Personality) like mine. These and other.

Anyway, there are certain things that I "steal", but tweak in what I often think are "original" ways, such as taking Polaroid Portraits of people and having them sign their name to it autograph-style and then morphing the names (Polaroid and Portraits) together into something like "portroids". Damn that's cool - and sooooo original. Not so. Well, the name, as far as I can tell, is original, but I'm sure that will be shattered when proven stolen later in this life.

I only just found out that someone else has been taking Polaroid pictures of people and having them sign their names at the bottom (long before I started). That person is Gene Simmons (Richard's brother (unconfirmed) and frontman for KISS). There is a slight difference though. Gene takes a Polaroid of every woman he has sex with. He claims to have approximately 4,700 of these. He doesn't call them Portroids though. I'm not sure what he calls them, but I will call them Sexroids (because it sounds really, really gross).

So, there you have it. Just another example of how unoriginal I actually am. Hey, even this subject of Gene Simmons taking Sexroids is unoriginal. I heard about it yesterday morning from Greg Thunder on the radio. Of course, they didn't use the term "Sexroids". I may have actually said something original, but I doubt it. I sincerely doubt it. I also doubt Gene Simmons has a Sexroid to match my Portroid of Greg Thunder, but again, I could be wrong.

Unorginally Yours,

Saturday, September 11, 2004

Three years ago today ...

I was living in New York City on September 11, 2001. I left work early (around 1 PM) and walked to the Village to meet up at the designated meeting place (Eli's apartment). I was the last to arrive. Erica and Sam and Arwin and Emily and Eli were already there. Sam and Arwin had decided to catch a train out of town to go up to Connecticut for a couple days. Emily, who had just moved to the City a few days before, was living with Eli and would be attending school at The Neighborhood Playhouse, so therefore couldn't go anywhere. Eli ... well, it was Eli's birthday, September 11th was, so his birthday was essentially ruined. He was supposed to be performing that night, but his performance was cancelled.

I think this was the day that the idea for portroids was born.

Erica had moved from Colorado about three weeks prior, and we were still acclimating to the change. As we were walking back to the SoHo apartment we shared with Sam, we engaged in an argument (about what, I can't recall). Trivial, probably. On Hudson Street, heading downtown, I noticed a girl in a tank top walking uptown approaching us . It was Gwyneth Paltrow. Behind her the smoke and dust billowed up into the sky from Ground Zero a mere few miles away. She looked me in the eye as we neared, and I saw a glimpse of what I thought was recognition (maybe she thought I was someone else, but there appeared to be a look of familiarity). This look was instantly swept away and replaced by sadness (and lonliness?) when I turned to Erica and whispered "Gwyneth Paltrow" to her. I get in trouble if I don't point out celebrities (and vice versa (celebrities get in trouble if they don't point me out to their friends)). I was already in trouble (I'm sure) and wasn't looking for more.

So ... I'm sorry Gwyneth if I pointed you out and separated you from us by your fame, Maybe you were just looking for someone to connect with on this day, a miscellaneous stranger to seek solace in anonymously. Sorry we couldn't be those people for you.

Anyway, that image of GP at that moment with that background would've been a great portroid to have. Two years and one month and two weeks later I started carrying my Polaroid with me all the time (except when I most need it - like when we saw Ronald McDonald - curses!). I mostly pass up on opportunities to take pictures, even when I have my camera, but that's just because I don't like approaching "strangers". I do like talking about portroids I missed though. Here are some highlights from a recent trip to New York: Ray Romano, Kevin James, David Schwimmer, Hugh Jackman, others.

Goodbye for now,

Friday, September 10, 2004


The response to this new Portroids (we)blog has been, in a word, staggering. Zero comments!! Whoa! I expected something like 2 or 3 ... "long time lurker, first time poster" or "I don't normally comment on these thingamajobbers, but I couldn't hardly help myself when I saw you finally jumped on the bandwagon" or "Dude, that was boring, your post."

OK, lurkers, here's your chance to comment on whatever you normally like to comment on (bad grammar, for instance). I see you out there hiding in the dark shadows, kind of scary, yet eerily comforting, with your slightly swaying form (akin to Grandma's rocking chair with her well-worn afghan blanket draped lovingly over the back). Ollie-ollie-oxen-free. Come out, come out, wherever you all.

You may have noticed from the "Updates" page that I haven't updated since late August. Yes, I do have some things to do. I need to add the Whiteheads to the Flash page. I have a new picture to post (a rollover). I have tons upon tons of texty descriptions to write and post (so you can find out more and exciting things about people you only thought you knew). I need to link this blog to the site so people actually realize it exists.

Seriously guys, you're starting to freak me out with your hiding. I can SEE you, so stop pretending! Actually ... maybe that is only Grandma's rocking chair. Maybe I'm alone here (alone with Grandma's ghost (she's not even dead)). I'm getting scared now. Very scared.

I think I'll take some of my own advice and link this blog to the site so people actually realize it exists. God, it's lonely here.

Thursday, September 09, 2004

Here I am ... rock you like a (fill in the blank) (recommended entry: "hurricane")

Here is the "official" Portroids 'blog. I swore I'd never do it, but I'm known for breaking my oaths. I promise I won't break a promise again.

This is where you will find the latest news relating to Portroids and Portroid-related news.

My most recent trip yielded zero new 'troids. I expected to capture approximately ten new shots, so give or take ten, I succeeded.

That's all the news I have to give.

Here are the pictures I expected to get, but didn't:

Clint Howard
Buzz Aldrin
Pamela Anderson
Kevin Smith
Donald Duck
Jason Mewes
Andrew Runkle
Zac Sluser
some other people

Can't you just imagine how damn cool that would be to have those pictures?

See you next time,