Dude, skunk burgers and Barth. Doesn’t get any more classic than this. And as far as catchphrases are concerned, Barth’s “Dah-Iiiiiii Heard That!” from “You Can’t Do That On Television” is Sofa King underrated. As is the entire YCDTOTV empire. Think about the simple fact that, on a show aimed directly at children, there were reoccuring sketches where children were chained up in dungeons and tied to a post in front of a firing squad … talk about Subversive Spice! That would never fly in today’s culture of conservowurstness (which, now that your Uncle thinks about it, also goes a long way to understanding why the show has yet to be released on DVD). From this to “Dangermouse” to “Double Dare” (which I heaped praise on, FAT stizz, back in January of Oh-Three), some say it doesn’t get any rougher than early to mid `80s Nickelodeon. Represent!

PS - Keep your peepers peeped for that Alanis Morrissette cameo!

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The last time your Uncle Grambo gave even a passing thought to pole vaulting was during an EPIC battle of Decathalon with Matt Fleury back in the summer of 1985 (2600 stizz, natch). Howevs, thanks to a choice reveal by the good folks over at With Leather (fast becoming the Maxim of sports blogs, and I mean that as a compliment), methinks it’s high time to get back into track and field. Or, more accurately, it’s time to long jump my way onto the Allison Stokke bandwagon.

For the uninitiated, Allison is an 18 year-old California high school senior / pole vaulting champion. Yes, I said she’s still in high school. And yes, I also said that she’s 18. The way your Uncle Grambo figures it, that’s a wash, right? Irregardless, there’s no debating that Allison is the hottest hottie to hit the sports circuit since Anna Pornikova captured our fancy (and stole Sergei Federov’s heart) back in the mid `90s. She makes Sharapova look like Lindsey Davenport, she makes Julie Foudy look like Michelle Akers, and she makes Michelle Wie look like, well, every other golfer in the LPGA. It’s like someone finally brought the technology from “Weird Science” to fruition and Frankenstein’d the FUNK out of the genetic material of Emmanuelle Chiqrui and Sergei Bubka (sans the pinko commie buzz negativo of the former, hobvs). In other words, B-B-B-BEST! Color me smitten.

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Actually, that happened a few years ago. Howevs, your Uncle Grambo thought the content of this post necessitated the reset. Seeing as how I haven’t posted too many personal snaps here on whatevs (dot org) recently, I figured now would be as good a time as any to post an array of random shots taken over the course of the last six months or so. Enjoy the buzz after the jump!

Read the entire entry …

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Something transcendent happened last night. More accurately, something erupted last night in a cacophonous crescendo of awesomeness after a week of transcendental bubbling and brewing. While it may seem like your Uncle Grambo has gone hog-wild for hyperbole¹ in his assessment of the impact of the Golden State Warriors’ triumph over the Dallas Mavericks, anyone in possession of even a passing familiarity of basketball theory would agree that their mindgrapes were blown into smithereens, Scanners stizz, by the way this series turned out. There is no telling what the long-term ramifications of this outcome will be to either The Association or, for that matter, to our world. However, at press time, we do know this much to be true: anyone watching the game last night saw the NBA’s dominant paradigm implode in the most spectacular fashion, one that reminded me of what happened when Locke didn’t enter the code into the computer during the second season finale of Lost.

To be quite honest, your Uncle Grambo is still processing what even HAPPENED in this series. I’m finding it difficult to make any rational analogies or to draw any cohesive parallels to any other events in history. I’m also finding it VERY difficult to write about what this series means to me in the short form manner that the blog format demands.

Thankfully, the truly Advanced folk who write and frequent Free Darko are doing an admirable job of giving this victory some context. Some have compared it to the advent of jazz (the music, not the team), most have deemed it an evolutionary leap in how the sport is played/coached, and one has even gone as far as to compare it to the movements of the “Symphonie Fantastique” by Berlioz. All I know at this point is that it was awesome in a way that words can surely express, if given the proper amount of time to coalesce, but simultaneously SO awesome that it will probably take me days/weeks (years?) to formulate said words.

That said, I do know this. On a purely conceptual level, this series represented the battle between large-scale concepts like desire vs. pressure, raw potential vs. formal training and, ultimately, success vs. failure. Big forces were at work here, people. With only 12 hours or so of hindsight, all I’m really sure of is this — no matter what happens the rest of the playoffs, this series was an unbridled joy to witness on every conceivable level.

RELATED: Here’s a video that accurately captures how I felt while composing this go-nowhere post. [via With Leather]

¹And/or my use of alliteration.

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Poor Mo Rocca. In what will likely go down in history as the single most desperate attempt to hitch a ride on the viral video bandwagon, the bespectacled talking head has accepted a R.I.M. job as Blackberry’s “Comedy Correspondant” (whatever THAT means). In a series of painfully unfunny video shorts, Mr. Rocca took to the streets of New York to (and I quote) “coach BlackBerry users on how to express their love for [their] smartphones.” Yikers Island. Although there appears to be two episodes (titled “Spaceship” and “CIA”, respectively) in the can that haven’t yet made their online debut, your Uncle Grambo is pretty sure that the dudes over at Super Deluxe and Funny Or Die won’t exactly be tripping over themselves to sign the flailing Mo to a production deal.

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