The Weekly Caption Contest
At first I just thought that Dustin was lazy and cheap by offering a type written letter of congratulations as the prize for this contest instead of, say, a coffee mug, but I think I was wrong. People really seem to want that letter as we keep getting awesome submissions each week. It's rumored that there's a code in the Rowles letters and that if you're able to crack the code then you will be granted power beyond all mortal understanding.
It's something to shoot for.
This is the graphic that Replica provided last week:
And so, without further ado, the 7 finalists, each one who will be identified by Rolling Stone Magazine's list of the top 7 rock songs of all time.
Coming in 7th, as Johnny B. Goode by Chuck Berry, is the dynamic duo that is Zeke the Pig and L.O.V.E. I'm not actually going to include a submission, but am giving them this spot just for general commentary this week. The porno that they are planning looks brilliant and sexy and the zingy banter between the two of them promises the world. I haven't been this excited about a film since the Tom Hanks film The Terminal. He played a Russian trapped in an airport! Brilliant! (And L.O.V.E. I do thank you for those images) So, for you guys, as inspiration, I present to you a still from the porn classic The Opening Of Misty Beethoven:
Coming in 6th, as Good Vibrations by the Beach Boys, is:
After the success of the Muppet Babies, NBC Executives suggested a "younger cast" for the Office, but alas, it did not help.
I could see this happening. Only maybe it would be set in China and every once in awhile a baby office worker would get adopted by a Western family so that new characters are always being rotated into the cast.
Coming in 5th, as Respect by Aretha Franklin, is:
After a four-hour budget meeting and the run-in with her boss, Bridget discovers, much to her regret, that she has left her pacifier and a dry diaper in her other purse.
This one just seems perfectly credible to me and the truth is that I have a world of empathy for rough-day-at-the-office baby. I started to sob uncontrollably on the subway the other day when I realized that I'd left my fantasy hockey magazine at the bar, and that it didn't even matter.
Coming in 4th, as What's Going On by Marvin Gaye, is:
Despite being a clever attempt to enter the tot-office market, Microsoft's "Dora the Internet Explorer" was plagued with technical issues from the start.
This is funny, and for that funniest I reward you with beauty. In this case, beauty comes in the form of Marvin Gaye singing the National Anthem at the NBA basketball game. Lordy, if that man wasn't perfect!
Coming in 3rd, as Life is a Highway by Tom Cochrane, is:
Kenny G. :
A moving scene from the Little Tykes Daycare production of ERIN BROCKOVICH...
I can feel her struggle, I really can, but I can also see her courage and determination. As an aside, I think I would like to boldy go where no man has gone before and say that I think Julia Roberts might actually be an underrated actress. Sure, she's Julia Roberts, but did you see her in Closer? She was great! That was a great movie! Anyhow, I'm sure that there are other examples, too, but they're just not coming to me right now. At any rate, watch out for the latter half of her career--she's going to surprise you. And Kenny G, for you I award a photograph of Julia Roberts as Erin Brockovich!
Coming in 2nd, as Satisfaction by the Rolling Stones, is:
This picture is giving me scary flashbacks. I had a secretary that had a doll and desk and computer set up just like this on her desk. She also had various pieces of plastic play food that she would put on the desk during lunch and for dinner just before she left for the day. I always expected to look up and find that doll coming at me with a knife.
This one just gave me a really authentic sense of the creeps. Really.
And coming in 1st, as Like a Rolling Stone by Bob Dylan, is:
Joyce was a mess. This had to have been the worst Friday in recent memory. Harold had finally stumbled in around three in the morning, reeking of cheap booze, and when she confronted him about where he had been, he mumbled something about her being a bitch and wobbled into the den to fart and pass out. Before she had left the house this morning she had stood quietly for a while, observing his alcohol-induced slumber. She had wondered, not for the first time, how it would feel to take one of the frying pans -- not the non-stick, God forbid, but maybe the cast-iron -- and bash in the back of his head. She thought maybe it was a blessing after all that he was infertile. It was too late for children now, in any case.
Three separate accidents on I-35 had backed traffic up so badly that she was over an hour late. She had decided to stop for coffee on the way, seeing as how her morning was already so behind, but she was still so agitated that she only took a few sips before realizing she wouldn't be able to finish it. "The caffeine jitters!" Harold would have said, laughing like it was the funniest thing in the whole damn world. She thought again, fondly, of the frying pan.
When she finally walked into the office, Mr. Cutledge swooped down on her like some sort of gleefully demented vulture.
"You're la-a-ate Joyce. Again. Did you forgot about the talk we had last week? If you can't be here on time, I'll have no trouble finding someone who can. I've given you plenty of chances. What's your excuse this time? Long line at Starbucks?" He glanced pointedly at the cup in Joyce's hand, and she realized belatedly that she should have left it in the car. She tried stammering out an apology, but Mr. Cutledge waved his hand in her face, effectively shutting her up.
"I don't want to hear it, Joyce. Just get to your desk and get on the phone. We've got people holding."
Humiliated, Joyce shuffled off to her cube, dreading the long work day ahead of her. It already felt like she'd put in her eight hours, and she'd only just gotten there, and of course she was going to have to stay late to make up for this morning's debacle. On top of that, if Harold was home for work on time and she didn't have dinner ready, she was going to hear about it for the rest of the night. Secretly, she found herself almost wishing he'd just keep going. It might give her an excuse to finally use that pan.
Preoccupied with thoughts of Harold dropping boneless to the floor, Joyce didn't notice the tack on the floor of her cube until she had stepped on it, driving the point through the thin, worn sole of her shoe and into her foot. She yelped and jumped in surprise, splashing coffee everywhere.
She dropped into her chair and wrenched off her shoe, staring incredulously at the small bead of blood forming on the ball of her foot. Wadding up some tissue, she wiped off the blood and was relieved to see it already seemed to be stopping. Turning the shoe over, she pulled the tack free and slipped the shoe back on, looking around her cube at the same time to see if the tack fallen from somewhere. She glanced at her favorite poster and her heart leapt into her throat.
It was gone. "Hang In There" was gone. Three tacks remained to mark where it had been displayed on the wall of her cubical, one of them with a corner of poster still pinned gamely in place.
She couldn't believe it. The one thing that kept her going, the only thing that got her through hours of angry customers, obnoxious coworkers, and the thought of going home to Harold and his drunken obscenities, was that poster. Something about that tiny kitten, hanging on for dear life, filled her with hope that things could get better. All she had to do was keep going, keep trying, keep brushing things aside, and something would come along to make things all right.
And now it was gone.
Joyce sat in her chair, utterly alone, and wept.
Brilliant, just brilliant.
Snath, you have won and all you have to do to win the letter from Dustin Rowles and have a chance at cracking the mysterious Rowlesian Code, is send us you address. Well done, sir, well done!
This is the image Replica has supplied for us this week. It's like shooting fish in a barrel, but you know, sometimes fish just need to be shot.
Pajiba Love Express
Here's some Daveed Diggs for you. On Daveed Diggs' digs, actually. That man does things with clothes that should not make sense, but are absolutely perfect. (Go Fug Yourself)
Woody Allen has "so moved on" from his daughter's accusations and says he never even thinks about it. He equates her words about him to a bad review he won't read and comments on how wacky it is that Mia Farrow is his mother-in-law. He is the worst. (Celebitchy)
Not The Worst but still very gross: Leonardo DiCaprio and his
Here are 5 under-the-radar shows. I had never even heard of the first two. (Uproxx)