Posts Tagged ‘Clive “Fucking” Cussler’

h1

Heavy Rotation Vol. 28

December 20, 2009

Well, it’s that time of year. Only x number of days left until Xmas. (x=not enough)

As an alternative to my usual rambling introduction, I’d like to instead highlight my blog partner, RF Interference. While he may not be able to squeeze in a post edgewise, he did outdo pretty much everything I’ve done this year with this:

Thanks to RF, I am now the proud owner of an autographed copy of FIRE ICE: A Kurt Austin Adventure by none other than CLIVE FUCKING CUSSLER. How awesome is that.

Let me just give you a small excerpt of Mssr. Cussler’s prowess:

“Sandecker flashed a barracuda smile, but an icy coldness crept into his authoritative blue eyes as he prepared to rip Tingley to shreds.”

The man has never met an adjective he didn’t like.

Thanks for that, RF. Truly an awesome gift.

On to the music.

Previous versions here:
The Heavy Rotation Archives

Kraftwerk – Ohm Sweet Ohm
Last time Kraftwerk made an appearance in the Heavy Rotation, they were using banks of vintage electronics to crank out Black Sabbath-esque heavy metal. This time around they’re wringing raw emotion from their collections of wires and chips.

Much like Trans-Europe Express, Ohm Sweet Ohm works as a travelling analogue. The pace starts slow, as if moving tentatively but picks up the pace as it nears its destination. It calls to mind someone making a long journey back to someone they love, having been away far too long. The first moments are almost hopeless, as though the distance is too far and will never be reached, but as the trip continues and the destination nears, the pace and elation increase, anticipating the reunion.

Magnetic Fields – Yeah Oh Yeah
Well, I don’t mean to go so dark so fast, but don’t let Stephen Merritt’s perma-funk scare you away. As the mind behind the Magnetic Fields, Merritt has cranked out hundreds of darkly funny/tragic love songs. Well, love is often the key, but it’s usually unrequited or completely gone.

This ode to the creeping hate of a long-dead relationship comes soaked in reverb and features a duet/duel from the two protagonists. You know, just for a little added heartbreak. Has a bit of a Galaxie 500 feel to it, all airy vocals and lightly strummed (and lightly distorted).

I’ve enjoyed making you
miserable for years
found peace of mind in
playing on your fears
How I loved to catch your gold
and silver tears, but now my dear
What a dark and dreary life
Are you reaching for a knife?
Could you really kill your wife?
Yeah Oh, yeah
Of, I die, I die, I die!
So it’s over, you and I
Was my whole life just a lie?
Yeah Oh, yeah

Imperial Teen – Copafeelia
God help me, I loves me some Imperial Teen. All power-pop-punk with Ginsu-sharp lyrics and hummable melodies. From their debut album Seasick, Copafeelia is yet another acidic kiss-off to some fool who spends too much time “cutting out their paper friends.”

This will get stuck in your head and hold on for the drop to bass and drum about 3/4’s thru, which will makes you wonder why more bands don’t do that sort of thing all the time. (It worked wonders for the Charlatans UK’s biggest hit The Only One I Know…)

carbonated palm couture
drunken hands will kill your pimp
and make you whore du jour
you’re worth more dead than alive
I don’t want to die here
I don’t want to die

Marilyn Manson – This Is The New Shit (Goldfrapp Mix)
At first, this sounds like any other Manson track, all drums and distorted vocals. But listen closely. Alison Goldfrapp (the britchesless beauty from a couple of weeks ago) joins in, layering her breathy, sex-on-wheels voice over his, occasionally taking the lead. Her contribution adds a much-needed contrast to Mr. Manson’s overwrought shouting.

But what makes this essential? Wait for it. At about 3:20 in, be prepared to hold on to your fucking preconceived notions. Goldfrapp takes over and drags Manson’s dope rock back into a smoky 1930’s nightclub and begins channeling Marlene Dietrich. If you ain’t heard someone seductively croon “Are you motherfuckers ready?” then you just ain’t lived yet.

Meterhead – Let It Go
Speaking of time warps, here’s Meterhead with a dancefloor killer that drags Def Leppard’s pop-metal into the new millenium, taking everything good about them (chanty, slogan-esque vocals, compressed guitar) and chopping the hell out of it.

This much fun should be illegal (and due to stupid copyright laws, it probably is). If there was any justice in the world, this track would be required to soundtrack any movie club scenes for the next 3-5 years. I can totally see Blade chopping up vampires to this.

All mp3s in one easy-to-access NUMA file:
Heavy Rotation 28
(link opens in new window)

-CLT

[All music posted on Fancy Plans… is kick ass and too awesome to be contained. All music is also posted temporarily and, due to its high level of ass-kicking, should not be distributed without a prescription and care should be taken while operating heavy equipment or dancing around the living room (clothing optional, but do remember that the blinds are open/kids are still awake).
Should you wish to have your brilliant artistic statement forced back into confinement, please email me at 2timegrime@gmail.com. Feel free to leave a comment, as that will probably be noticed sooner.
By all means, if you like what you hear (and you will), please support the totally rocking artist(s) by purchasing some music or heading out to see them live.]
h1

Minutes from the Fancy Plans Employee Meeting

September 25, 2009
Before we adjourn this meeting, I'd like to show you all this doodle of you all in very compromising positions.

Before we adjourn this meeting, I'd like to show you all this doodle of you all in very compromising positions.

September 23, 2009

In attendance: CLT, Edna Morton (Research), James (Art Dept.), Meredith (Secretary).
Not in attendance: RF Interference (currently heading the House Committee on Un-American Sports Activities)

CLT: Alright. We’ve had a pretty good month, so far. Just a couple of things to note:

1. While readership is up, out leading incoming search is “Richard Simmons,” meaning we have made some inroads into a very fucked-up demographic. I don’t want to point fingers, James, but it’s all coming from the low-angle shot you took of him in his shortiest shorts.

While I’m sure we can all appreciate a nicely-toned ass, I’m not sure we need the kind of readership that is looking for sweaty shots of Simmons’ Ken-doll anatomy.

2. We need to work on our quality control. The New York Times Review of Blogs posted what some might consider to be a “devastating” review. They said we “lack any sort of cohesive theme or focus,” and that we only “occasionally show any sort of insight, mostly limited to rare moments when RF Interference can squeeze a post in edgewise.”

It goes on… at quite some length… let’s see… “caustic windbag CLT…” “amateurish cynicism…” “not real journalists…”

So, some room for improvement. Especially you, James.

And not to point fingers again, James, but your photo selection has slipped. I need concise, devastating pictures that can be easily used again themselves. If I have to spend more than 30 seconds thinking up the perfect caption, then that’s another This Week’s Featured Soaps that won’t make the publishing deadline.

James: Can I speak freely?
CLT: Sure. This is the good old U.S. of A., despite RF’s best efforts.
James: Most of the vague requests and posts leave a lot to the imagination. I’m not really receiving concise direction from you.
CLT: Oh, I’m sorry. I’m the talent. I thought with your fancy degree in… what do you have a degree in?
James: Middle Eastern architecture. I minored in Numerology.
CLT. Jesus Christ! Really? Who the hell is doing the hiring around here?
James: WordPress suggested me using their search engine. I was under “Humor” for no discernible reason.
CLT: Correct me if I’m wrong, but your diploma has calligraphy on it?
James: Yes. I suppose it does…
CLT: Well, Mr. Pompous Jackass Degree Holder, for the rest of this meeting you’re going to use your imagination and pretend that you are now living in a third-world dictatorship and anything derogatory you say will be punished severely.
James: [sulks]

CLT: Moving on. We recently ran a full page of retractions leading me to believe that our fact-checking is not up to spec. Edna?
Edna: I’m sorry, Mr. CLT, but I don’t have much to work with. You banned me from the internet after the fourth crippling virus I downloaded and the encyclopedias you’ve been picking up from the grocery store are short several volumes. Many of the pages contain nothing but coupons.
CLT: Let me cut you off there. And please, call me “Sir.” Your lack of resources is not really my problem. Or maybe it is. Either way, we’re going to simplify: this is your problem. Are you banned from the library computers, too?
Edna: I have one strike left, but it should be gone after they reboot tomorrow morning.

CLT: Alright. I’m going to call a quick recess and go have several shots. You wait here.

CLT: What the fuck? There’s nothing but Triple Sec and Cointreau in here! Where the hell did all the booze go? Edna?
Edna: [snores]
CLT: James! Smell her breath.
James: Why do I have to—
CLT: Because you are the unpaid and abused intern. I’m not going anywhere near her mouth. She eats black licorice all day and apparently drinks a lot of booze. When she opens that thing, it looks like the gateway to hell. Only with less teeth.
James: I’m not going to do that!
CLT: James. I’m going to start writing some numbers on the whiteboard. Stop me anytime… 23…
James: [screams and heads over to Edna]

James:Oh… god… oh god. She’s been drinking.
CLT: Thank you, James. I’m leaving that number on the board for the remainder of this meeting. Try to focus.

Meredith, take a letter. “To the estate of Clive F. Cussler…”

James: I believe Clive Cussler is still alive.
CLT: Really? How the fuck do you know? Flip through a sudoku book? Leave the facts to the pros. Edna? What do we have on Cussler?
Edna: [belches quietly, continues snoring]
CLT: Well, I’m calling that 2 vs. 1, James. Do the math.

To the estate of Clive F. Cussler,

Thank you for your letter dated September 3rd, 2009. In response to your request for the removal of the offending Cussler interview, I have decided to continue running the post. Until you have conclusive proof that Mr. Cussler is not an insufferable prick and that his son can operate an automatic door without assistance, the interviews stays as is.

I will accept time-stamped video accompanied by a signed affadavit. You have my sympathy over the loss of Mr. Cussler, etc. etc. Go fuck yourself.

Sincerely,
Capitalist Lion Tamer

Meredith, read that back to me.

Meredith: [reads letter]
CLT: Good lord! Do I sound like that? All overbearing and profane? Did you add something?
Meredith: No. I transcribed it exactly.
CLT: Hmm. Try to soften it up a little. Throw in a few “prithees” and a couple of F-bombs.

Meredith: [retypes letter]
Meredith: Would you like me to read back the edited letter?
CLT: No. I’m sure it still retains my famous quiet dignity. James, check the file cabinet for some anthrax and toss it in the envelope.
James: Jesus. You actually have some of that?
CLT: I picked some up in early 2002. Everybody had some. Scarcely a letter went out without a heavy dusting of it. It should be in the first aid kit.
James: It’s all gone.
CLT: Nothing? Not even a small but deadly amount?
Check out the box marked Fleetwood Mac’s Greatest Hits. There should be some coke in there. Unless Edna got there first… Toss some of that into the envelope.
OK. Run that to the post office. And James?
James: [exasperated sigh] What?
CLT: When they ask you if there’s anything “flammable, hazardous, perishable, etc.,” try not to say something instinctive like, “It’s not anthrax. It’s cocaine.”

[James heads to post office.]

CLT: Anyone have anything? No? Edna? Edna!
Edna: [snores]
CLT: Alright. We’ll see you all next month, with the possible exception of James.

RF: What a night. Did I miss anything good?
CLT: We have lousy employees. Meredith is the only one worth keeping and I’m sure she’ll e gone once her first paycheck bounces. And thanks to Edna, the liquor cabinet is now about as useless as a fridge full of condiments.
On the bright side, James can be intimidated by writing nearly any number on the whiteboard.
RF: Right-o. Well, I’m off to exchange my greenbacks for British pounds and hit the pub for some football and unintelligible accents. You in?
CLT: American football?
RF: [glares pointedly]
CLT: Fine. Go Tottenham. Rue Britannia. You’re buying the first round.

-CLT

h1

Most Popular Occupations for Online University Graduates

August 22, 2009
Your online university: offering such diverse courses as solitaire and avatar-bungling

Your online university: offering such diverse courses as solitaire and avatar-bungling

Congratulations [insert name here]! Your hard work has paid off. After a grueling 22 hours in 8 weeks of online courses, you have now completed the coursework necessary for a degree in [insert choice here].

Your diploma and degree should arrive in 6-8 weeks, possibly sooner, if we can find someone who knows how to install a dot matrix printer ribbon.

Once again, congratulations and best wishes on your continued success in life! [omit sarcastic laughter]

If you have received this form letter, please take the time to review our list of Most Popular Occupations for Online University Graduates. Remember your degree is somewhat open-ended because of our lack of state certification. Many of the occupations listed may intersect tangentially with your course of study. Thanks for your business and we hope to see you again and again.

If you have yet to enroll, please see some of our available courses here.

Most Popular Occupations

  • Dianetician (additional study needed for Bachelor of Scientology)
  • Phrenologist
  • Clip Art Wrangler
  • Sexpert
  • Aromatherapist
  • Frivolous Lawyer
  • Chain Mail Author
  • Envelope Stuffer
  • Mixologist
  • TS Prostitute Sexer
  • Netscaper
  • File Sharer
  • Plasma Marketer
  • Squire
  • Alcoholic
  • Pirate (Music)
  • Pirate (Somali)
  • Pirate (Yarrrrr)
  • File Naming Conventioneer
  • Collections (Credit Card)
  • Collections (RIAA, ASCAP)
  • Collections (Student Loans)
  • Scam Artist
  • Scam Victim
  • Mathmagician
  • Online University Career Counselor
  • Clothes Horse
  • Pommel Horse
  • Reality Show Contestant
  • Reality Show Host
  • Blogger
  • Currently Unemployed
  • Jiffy Lube Technician
  • Jiffy Pop Technician
  • Narc
  • Miner (Data)
  • Miner (Outdoor)
  • Miner (Canary – interns only)
  • Creationist
  • Accidental Parent
  • Alarm Clock and Toaster Repair
  • Universal Remote Setup Technician
  • Petty Crook
  • Insurance Adjuster
  • Lobbyist
  • Clive F. Cussler Co-Author
  • Fancy Plans… Fact Checker
  • Death Panelist
  • “Skanky” Model
  • Interpretive Exotic Dancer
  • World of Warcraft Guild Leader
  • Dirk Cussler
  • Lead Singer – Nickelback
  • Crocodile Hunter
  • Wedding Planner (3rd and up Marriages)
  • “Libarian”
  • Religious Cult Member
  • Department Store Santa Claus
  • Radioshack Battery Club Member
  • Journalist
  • Drugstore Cowboy
  • Rhinestone Cowboy
  • Breast Inspector
  • Meth Manufacturer
  • Meth Dealer
  • Parolee
  • Boxing Promoter

-CLT

h1

Our Sincerest Apologies: Retractions and Corrections

July 29, 2009
The Fancy Plans Mailroom - where the "magic" happens, as Juanita will find out, shortly before filing a sexual harassment suit.

The Fancy Plans Mailroom - where the "magic" happens, as Juanita will find out, shortly before filing a sexual harassment suit.

Over the past seven months, we at Fancy Plans have made over 300 posts, most of them riddled with errors, false statements and speculation. Whether this can be chalked up to laziness, stupidity or ignorance remains to be seen. One thing is for sure: our mailroom is starting to fill up.

In an attempt to clear the slate heading into the back half of the year, Fancy Plans would like to issue the following corrections and retractions:

Our slogan is: “You’ve got questions? We’ve got answers.” Not: “You’ve got questions? We’ve got questions. Wanna fuck?” (Radio Shack)

Arizona and Indiana are not the freak states, despite their refusal to join the rest of the nation’s proud, but outdated, tradition of Daylight Savings Time. A joint statement issued by representatives of both states reads: “Not only will we not show up at work at the wrong time twice a year, but when the revolution comes, you know who will be ahead of the curve. That’s right, baby. The “freaks!” I think. Unless the revolution starts in the spring. And in the fall… I guess we’d be arriving at the same time… Viva la revolucion!” (The Freak States)

ASCAP and its worldwide associates are not solely comprised of “thug-like shakedown artists, whose dispassionate soullessness allows them to finally empathize with lawyers (even patent lawyers).” ASCAP points out: “We also have lawyers.” Touché. (ASCAP)

Snapple points out that, while they are “made of the best stuff on earth,” most Snapple drinks do not include elements of “titanium, platinum, uncut diamonds, black tar heroin, really fucking good acid, vegemite, Krispy Kreme donuts, weapons-grade plutonium, additional brain cells, pixie dust, or the sperm of several Nobel Prize winners.” (Snapple)

Dirk Cussler, unlike Jimmy Carter, can “fart and chew bubblegum at the same time.” Video evidence was provided, but required the installation of RealPlayer. So you’ll just have to take our word for it. (Dirk Cussler Trust Fund, LLC.)

Our art department would like to apologize for being

Our art department would like to apologize for being "too literal" when bogarting retraction photos.

The estate of Jim Morrison would like to point out that his nickname was not “Van” as previously stated several times. It was “Jimmy,” like all good American boys. His mother would also like to point out that she “does not believe that Jimmy ever showed his penis in public,” and that she “was only propositioned once or twice by Jim, at the most,” blaming it on his absinthe usage. (Estate of James “Jimmy Van M” Morrison)

Nietzsche did not coin the phrase: “Say it with flowers.” (FTD)

At no time, in the New Testament or Old, does the Bible refer to God “laying his pimp hand down.” (Strong’s Concordance)

Clive Cussler’s middle name is not “Fucking.” It is “Eugene.” (C. F. Cussler’s Adventure Novel Mill)

ASCAP does not consider the statement, “Sure, other people can hear my music, but I can guarantee they’re not enjoying it,” to be a legitimate denial of wrongdoing. (ASCAP, again)

Printing someone’s unlisted address and phone number is not a victimless crime, according to lawyer Joseph Merritt, who lives at 3431 Placid Terrace, Ft. Lauderdale, FL. The best time to reach him is after 6 pm (EST) at his home number (805) 421-1991. (Stevenson Law Firm of Ft. Lauderdale)

General note: the pants have rarely matched the plan. Sorry for the confusion. (CLT)

Chad Kroeger (Nickelback) has apparently won several fights with kiddie pools (and other inanimate objects) despite earlier reports. Also mentioned in this retraction request: Gwenyth Paltrow v. mirror, Keanu Reeves v. folding chair and Scott Stapp (Creed) v. “Pull” door. (We Can Smart Anti-Defamation League)

President Barack Obama has not “gone one toke over the line.” (Office of the President)

Smoking, drinking and drugs are not cool, despite all evidence to the contrary. So go to bed, kids and give mom/moms/dad/dads back his/her/their computer and paraphernalia. (D.A.R.E.)

Neither is all that excessive swearing. (Mom)

WordPress.com would like to point out that we do not actually have a “mailroom” and should drop this conceit as soon as possible. (WordPress.com)

The art department also thought this would be "clever." They have since been told that they are not paid to think, or at all from this point on.

The art department also thought this would be "clever." They have since been told that they are not paid to think, or at all from this point on.

Eric Clapton’s nickname is not “Pimp Hand.” Please refrain from using this or any other derogatory terms when referring to His Holiness, God II. Also, you already used the pimp joke earlier. (Clapton Publicity, LLC. aka “Voice of God”)

My blog may not contain the exact address of my Bacharach Men’s Fashion store, but I have left several clues like “Vernon Hills” and “Cubs game.” In fact, I’d like to think my site combines the visceral thrill of reading ad copy with the blustering excitement of a round of Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? (Phil Alper:4U2C)

Your continued refusal to purchase medicine at outposts and general stores will greatly increase the chance of a party member dying of dysentery. (Oregon Trail Historical Society and Event Generator)

Help! I’m stuck in your spam filter! (Ramblin’ Rooster)

-CLT

h1

Fancy Plans… Book of the Month Club: Clive Cussler’s Sparta

June 19, 2009
Actual cover art TK, but should only involve changing the title and adding 8% to the cyan

Actual cover art TK, but should only involve changing the title and adding 8% to the cyan

Clive Cussler, author of over 800 novels, returns with another gripping tale of adventure on the high seas. In the latest installment of the neverending Dirk Pitt saga, Dirk finds himself on the maiden voyage of the Sparta, an experimental submarine handcrafted by eccentric billionaire, Roll Fizzlebeef.

Sparta features the steady co-writing of Paul Kemprecos, the show horse of the Cussler novel farm, which means he gets his own word processor, desk, corner office, and, should the book sell over 2.5 million copies, his choice of Cussler’s many virgin daughters. If you look carefully at the dust jacket, you can almost make out his name below the 240-point type announcing that CLIVE FUCKING CUSSLER has agreed to take credit for someone else’s work.

Here’s an excerpt:

They were sinking too fast. The intercom crackled, summoning Pitt to the bowels of the submarine.
   Pitt hustled to the engine room. Fizzlebeef and his crew were bathed in the eerie red light of the control console. Dirk inhaled the heady scent of seamen and engine oil.
   “The engine’s running too hard,” the crew chief informed him. “There’s too much pressure. The nuts are about to blow.” Dirk’s fingers traced the nuts pensively, feeling them strain from the pressure, swelling as if to meet his touch.
   “It’ll seize up completely if we don’t lubricate it.” The voice of Roll came from behind Dirk. He turned to face the captain. Fizzlebeef was a monster of a man, hard as a rock, his shirtless chest glistening with sweat.
   “Grab that lube,” he ordered, “We’ve got to get the driveshaft moving again.” Dirk handed the tube to the captain. Roll bent over the engine and shot a massive load onto the shaft. Swiftly, he began rubbing the massive shaft with both hands.
   “It’s too hot!” he declared. “I’m not sure if this will help relieve the pressure or not.” Dirk quickly knelt down and assisted Fizzlebeef, massaging oil into the underside of the exposed shaft.
   The motor began to shake. A piercing noise filled the engine room. The keening noise reached a climax. The motor shuddered heavily before exploding, showering the men with its hot, steaming load.
   The lights went out. Above them a catwalk collapsed, raining men onto the floor below.
   Dirk heard a cry from the crew chief. “Sweet Jesus. It’s so deep inside me.” Part of the shaft had come loose and penetrated the young man. He gasped loudly as Dirk gently inserted two fingers into the hole. Dirk continued to push in deeper until he reached the end of the shaft.
   Another loud gasp came from the chief. His heart had stopped.
  Quickly, Dirk located the now-limp organ and began rubbing and squeezing it. He worked slowly at first, feeling for any sign of life. As it began to pulse and stiffen, Dirk began massaging it more vigorously. The organ filled with blood and began to throb and push against Pitt’s hand. Dirk turned his attention to the other limp and prone crew members.
   He began to clear a path to the backup generator. He groped around in the dark, gathering fallen seamen with both hands and pushing them into any opening he could find. He flipped on the breaker and heard the backup engines roar to life. The craft began to rise steadily, urged on by the long strokes of the pumping pistons.
   Pitt’s relief was short-lived. The backup engines ground to a halt and the lights flickered out. Dirk felt the crushing despair and helplessness of a prisoner whose furlough has just been revoked. One instant: an escape from a death sentence aboard a watery prison. The next: being pushed to his knees by the invisible sweaty, tattooed hands of fate.
   Dirk looked at the crew and saw his fears reflected in their eyes.
   They had no choice.
   They were going down.

Wow! Intense and gripping! I’m willing to bet Cussler and his lifetime companion Kemprecos will gain an entirely new audience with this tour de force. The give-and-take between the authors is exhilarating, watching them try new angles and positions tirelessly, constantly trying to do each other one better. Until next time…

-CLT

Quick addendum: Check out this fine website for more fun with Cussler.
The Thriller in a Manila