I’ve developed a quiz to let you know just how much of Car Johnson is in you. This will let you find out how much of me you are and if you need to up your Car level. I did this as a service, so that everyone can find out if they have enough me in them, or if they are sorely lacking in their Car quotient. So, you think you have enough of my unique brand of cow fetus loving craziness? Find out!
How Car are you? http://www.allthetests.com/quiz31/quiz/1403222963/How-Car-are-you
I’ve decided to remake my country music song into a funky techno one. This time, I didn’t sing it myself but paid some random stranger I found walking down the street. I came up with this new risky form of music while taking a shower. I’ve decided to call it the “whatever comes” style of singing, where the music itself is good, but the singing could be anything from sublime to gouge your ears out with a fork.
And what better way to introduce my new style of music than with a funky techno version of the best song in the world? (At least in my opinion. I love my little song like a cat loves coughing up hairballs.)
Lyrics:
You’re the perfect pet, confidant, friend,
we’ll be together to the end.
You never scream, you’ve never lied,
forever young in your formaldehyde
And you’ll never leave me, we’ll never part
“cuz I preserved a piece of your heart
Oh cow fetuses need love too
They aren’t just unborn bovines in jars
Cow fetuses need love too
They ain’t civets, they won’t give you SARS
People give my heart great pain
when they say that I’m insane
They think my cow fetus friends
are just some bizarre new trend
It’s not a trend, it’s not a joke
I’m just a bovine fetus lovin’ cowpoke
Oh cow fetuses need love too
They aren’t just unborn bovines in jars
Cow fetuses need love too
They ain’t civets, they won’t give you SARS
You bring me joy, with your shriveled skin
and your tiny bodies give me a grin
You look happy in your little hats,
so much cleaner than a bunch of cats
You sit there floating happy and free,
but nobody loves you like little old me
Oh cow fetuses need love too
They aren’t just unborn bovines in jars
Cow fetuses need love too
They ain’t civets, they won’t give you SARS
I’ve tried my hand at photography, as it seemed simple enough. You just point and shoot, sort of like murder but without the long prison sentence. Besides, I’m not really cut out for murder. I can’t keep a secret, like the fact that my friend Rob has an extra middle toe. (Sorry, Rob. Don’t worry, no one’s going to start calling you “Toey.” Well, except me.) Plus, I’m barely able to kill time without setting up a memorial service for all those murdered minutes.
So, I figured I could grab my cellphone and take a few pictures, then watch as people start cheering my artistic genius, just like they did for my “Cow Fetuses Need Love Too,” music video. (Well, I think they did. The praise I get is a sort of silent praise, as I assume people are awed into silence by my work. The quieter things are, the more impact I know I had.)
Without further ado, (or is it a do? I’ve always wondered about that. Maybe the term references an a-line hairdo and I just haven’t realized it, especially since I have no idea what an a-line hairdo is) here are some pictures sure to make your heart contract with wonder. (If you heart contracts too much, be sure to get proper medical attention.)
I call this “Corner of the TV.” I was trying to take a picture of a really nice landscape, but I was a little too close and just ended up with a blurry piece of the corner of the screen. So, I’ll just say that this is a statement about popular media and how it blurs our perceptions. Or maybe memories and how they’re…. screen… like.
This one is my attempt at a photographic still-life. I decided to take a picture of a single orange surrounded by several fruit that are slightly off camera. I created a story for this. The middle orange got drunk at a family get together and demanded a photo, but the other fruits were embarrassed to be seen with him (or her, it’s hard to tell with fruit) and made sure their faces were hidden. Well, they made sure whatever passed for faces on produce were hidden. This was my attempt of gritty realism.
These are called Open Spring and Closed Spring. I was inspired by my post about taking a vacation in your bathroom and decided to show the beauty of sparkling water, even if it’s at the bottom of your John.
I accidentally got my finger in this shot and figured, why not name it Finger and claim it was intentional? Oh wait, I shouldn’t have said that. This was intentional, not a mistake at all. Fingers are under-appreciated.
This next one is a picture of the peephole on my front door. I really like this one, so I’m going to call it Joe and print it out as a pretend pet.
Finally, there’s one I like to call Stuffed Animal Zombie Attack. This doesn’t have any artistic merit, I just think that the idea of stuffed animals turning into zombies is kind of awesome.
That’s all for now. I know, you’ve had a taste and now want more, like the photography equivalent of a sample of cocaine. I’d advise you to indulge in my photos, since they won’t destroy your nasal passages, unless you shove them up your nose. And trust me, photos never quite look the same once they’ve been shoved into your sinuses.
I created a video game where people get to shoot at giant floating heads of me. You start twelve bullets, but there’s thirteen Car Johnson heads. I bet you can’t get them all. And since it’s a bet, I bet you can’t eat ten salami sandwiches in an hour, either.
Game created with Sploder.com online software.
My mother’s recipe for her famous Chocolate Tang Beef Casserole
1 lb ground beef
3 Cups orange flavored Tang
2 Cups chocolate syrup
1/2 Cup pureed anchovies
2/3 Teaspoons butter
Preheat oven to 400◦
Melt butter in a skillet and sauté Tang, beef and chocolate syrup for fifteen minutes, then place in casserole dish. Blend anchovies until smooth and smear on top of casserole. Bake for thirty minutes, then let set for ten.
Mother used to serve this on cold Winter nights. We’d all sit around, commenting on our day and trying to impress father with our gopher impersonations. Mother’s cooking will always have a special place in my heart and my lower intestinal tract, but that’s another story entirely. I hope this recipe becomes as beloved to you as it is to me and maybe one of these days I’ll post Mother’s onion lemon brownies. Yum!:)
Cartopia 