Yesterday at the Academy Awards

Do you see the similarity?

If we learned anything from watching last night's Oscars, it's this: Nicole Kidman looks like a blonde bottle of ketchup.

Also, her Australian butt-buddy Naomi Watts looks like a bottle of mustard. The resemblance is uncanny. And, since rumors are flying that Nicole and Naomi may be carpet-munchers, we figured this was as good a time as any to start jumping to ridiculous conclusions.

Well, maybe the rumors aren't all that far-fetched. It's not like Nicole Kidman is staring at Naomi's breasts during publicity photos. It's not like that at all.

The only bigger travesty than the fact that both of these girls are devout "feminists" is the fact that Watts never won an Oscar for her spot-on portrayal of a disgruntled lesbian in David Lynch's Mulholland Drive.

Seriously, people!! These two dykes have the time of their life playing tickle-butt while the rest of the world wonders, "Does the carpet match the drapes?"

Anyways, on a more serious note, The New Yorker got a lot of fuck-you letters for publishing a cartoon that was derogatory towards Polish people. These letters were from all over the world, and we somehow managed to get our hands on an authentic complaint that was actually sent in to the editor:

Dear Mr. Mankoff,

The cartoon in The New Yorker magazine (issue of 2/19) on pg. 165 with the caption: "My parents named me Zbigniew because they were drunk" is not funny; it's ridiculous; moreover it is bigoted.

Zbigniew is an ancient, honorable, and traditional Slavic name and, significantly and ironically for this matter, it means "one who dispels anger."

Would America chuckle at a child named Shaquand? or Nathan (American)? or William (ancient Anglo-Saxon) ? or Barack?

Please issue a retraction.

Subscribers,

John and Jane Doe

Here is the standard, cookie-cutter response letter that was sent, by the cartoon editor of The New Yorker, to all the Polish people who complained:

Dear Ms. Doe,

I am extremely sorry that you took the caption as an insult. It was not meant to target people of Polish origin in any way. It was simply meant to represent the plight of a child with an unusual name, that at the same time is quite well known, because of the distinguished career of statesman Zbigniew Brzezinski.

As we all know, children hate to be different from their peers in any way, and though America is still a great melting pot, children with first names other than the most standard often see their name as a burden rather than atribute to their ancestry. The tacit assumption of the cartoon is that the child is not of polish ancestry, which makes it very unusual for him to have Zbigniew as a name. The humor intended here was that of incongruity, not insult, and I want to assure you again, that neither Mr. Weber nor The New Yorker meant to offend the Polish people in any way.

Sincerely,

Robert Mankoff

And, courtesy of Jimmie Fontaine, we bring you "The Chicken Police":

These chickens are the straw that stirs the drink.

Closer Than We Ever Dreamed

It won't be much longer, my friend.

In what could be the bombshell news story of the year, a team of researchers in Africa found out that chimpanzees make their own spears and use them while hunting.

Here is what the Tribune wrote about the development:

The chimps were repeatedly seen using their hands and teeth to tear the side branches off long straight sticks and peeling back the bark and sharpening one end of the sticks with their teeth, the researchers report in Thursday's online issue of the journal Current Biology. Then, grasping the weapon in a "power grip," they jabbed into tree-branch hollows where bush babies — small monkey-like mammals — sleep during the day...

Lead researcher Jill D. Pruetz of Iowa State University in Ames said it reminded her of the shower scene in "Psycho."

In case you're not yet overwhelmed with pride and jubilation: THE APES ARE MAKING THEIR OWN FUCKING SPEARS AND THEN THEY ARE HUNTING WITH THEM!!!

Ahhh... It brings a tear to our eye and a hot piping to our ass, seeing our little 4-thumbed cousins finally getting some credit. We are blown away.

Absolutely blown away.

While it was a widely-known fact that monkeys throw rocks and use shells as tools in their lives, never before has anyone witnessed apes creating and using their own tools. What a breakthrough! While it is true that the apes were not very good at using the spears, the simple fact that they are capable of this kind of activity is impressive enough.

So, 30 years from now, you know what we can expect:

Monkey butlers for everybody!

We can see it now: A team of highly trained monkeys for every citizen. Monkeys wash your windows, do your laundry, change your oil, keep pesky squirrels out of your trees. It would be heaven on Earth. What kind of monkeys would they be? Squirrel monkeys? Spider monkeys? Capuchins? Marmosets?

And how would we dress them? There would certainly be hats, but would there be name tags? Shoes? Walkie-talkies?

As usual, our friend Casey over at monkeydaynews was all over this story like stink on a monkey.

Yo no soy marinero.

In other news, a beaver was spotted in New York City today. This is important, because beavers have not been seen in NYC for about 200 years. And apparently, this is a big deal because the city flag has some sort of amphibious rodent on it.

So when citizens spotted the beaver swimming in the Bronx River, they did what anybody would do: They named the beaver Jose.

Now, dear reader, you may be wondering why that beaver story even got a mention. Well, we'll level with you: We don't really have a good answer to that question. All we can say in our defense is this: Some of the crap you find in the news is much more pointless.

Sense and Sensibility

Where do you draw the line?

As reported by our good friend Casey over at monkeydaynews, a monumental case in the movements for apes' rights is currently being contested over in Austria.

The groundbreaking case revolves around a chimpanzee named Hiasl, who was abducted from his West African home by poachers when he was just a year old, and eventually ended up in an animal sanctuary. Eventually, the ape received a $5,000 donation to his cause, presumably to get him back on his feet, and now the question becomes, "Can an ape be viewed as a person in the eyes of the law?"

Should Hiasl be entitles to all the same rights, priveledges, and freedoms as human beings? Should he be allowed to have a legal guardian to look after the $5,000 he received?

Now, we're not sure if Hiasl has taken any finance classes or not, but we'd be willing to bet that if he was in charge of his money, he'd spend it all on bananas and candy necklaces.

If the courts rule that Hiasl is not a person in the eyes of the law, then what happens next? Do they let this monkey out on the streets, turn him loose with 5,000 bucks in a special chimpanzee backpack? Or does he remain in some zoo or lockup, sleeping on a pile of money every night?

In the humble opinion of the management of this website, we hope that this chimp wins this legal battle, and we hope he is awarded his personal guardian. Not only will this help ensure that he lives a long and peaceful life, but this could have massive implications in future legal proceedings involving all of the great apes and new world monkeys.

Where do you draw the line?

We here at HPO are big fans of wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. We use it almost every day, and we find it to be user-friendly, accurate, and up-to-date. For those of you who don't know, wikipedia is a non-profit organization made up of scholars, professors, and other philanthropists who dedicate their precious time and knowledge to creating a free encyclopedia that anyone can use. Not only can anyone use it, but anyone can edit the encyclopedia articles, too, which creates the potential for rapid growth and a deep basin of highly specialized knowledge.

We rate the whole project as "strong to very strong".

But, the problem with a 'free encyclopedia that anyone can edit' is that sometimes, you get pranksters and vandals that mess with certain articles.

As reported by our friends over at TSG, a professional golfer named Fuzzy Zoellers is suing because his wikipedia article was filled with untrue things about him, including allegations that he is a racist, a wife-beater, a bigot, a child-beater, and accuses him of once being "in the process of polishing off a fifth of Jack (Daniels) after popping a handful of vicodin pills."

A mirror of the entire page can be found at answers.com.

OK, we agree: Not only is this below-the-belt, it's downright insane. We wouldn't want people writing this kind of stuff about us.

But, should Fuzzy be able to sue some people for tens of thousands of dollars because of it? Seems a little extreme. But, then again, some people take themselves to seriously.

Lighten up, people. What happened to your sense of humor?

Look Out

What the hell?

Hello, Juggs

Most French women aren't this good-looking.

It is a well-known fact that Melissa Theuriau is hands-down the sexiest news-reporter-person in the world. Sure, there was some controversy back in 2005 about her overexposure in the media, but when the center of said conflict is Melissa, then these things seem to just get swept up under the rug and forgotten.

Until we found this:

Quick, somebody call Duane Chapman!!!

Now, there are some pretty incriminating pictures (despite the url, that link is SFW) of Melissa all over the internets. One of our fellow Hot Pipes, Koch, has always been behind Melissa 100%. He is certain that she is smoking flavored tobacco at some snazzy European hookah bar. But, we strongly doubt that. In fact, who is to say that the hookah she is smoking isn't filled to the brim with opium or cocaine? For all we know, she might even be under the dark spell of the yaaba. These days, you can never be too careful.

Especially when it comes to the Hawaiian Salt.

At any rate, you can still see some fine pictures which display her professionalism, passion for charity work, and natural journalistic talent (this one is NSFW).

Laugh it up.

Since Melissa seems to enjoy the freedoms of the beach so much, maybe she should move to Iran. Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, in his most recent insane tyrannical outburst, came up with the idea of creating an island just for women.

Hold on just a minute... When the Iranian President's Office emailed us back a few months ago, they assured us that steps were being taken towards equal rights for both men and women in Iran, and they even sent us a link to help explain everything. We don't read Farsi very well, but having to go to a private island just to take your head-scarf off in public doesn't seem very equal to us.

One Time

Let's go back to the station house...

Chances are, you have never lived in Champaign-Urbana, Illinois. Therefore, chances are you probably won't be able to appreciate the sheer ineptitude of the police force there, nor will you fully be able to realize how much of a joke the law enforcement is out there.

Anyways, we have a collection of some pretty funny excerpts from the Daily Illini's police blotter over the past few years... Unfortunately, since we are quoting hardcopy files, we can't link to the original articles, but we promise that they will be accurate. Not a single word will be different. Here are our favorites, in no particular order:

- A 43-year-old Champaign woman reported that either an unknown suspect or the wind blew open a door at the 300 block of West Beardsley Avenue. Nothing was missing or disturbed, according to a police report.

- A 27-year-old Urbana man was arrested for aggravated battery at County Market Discount Foods, 220 N. Broadway Ave., on Tuesday afternoon. According to a police report, the man grabbed a 20-year-old Urbana woman's "body part" inside the business. The man was later seen leaving in a van. The vehicle was stopped, and the man was arrested.

-A 28-year-old Urbana man put his roommate in a headlock in their apartment at the 1100 block of East Florida Avenue over the weekend. According to a police report, the man was angered that his roommate wouldn't contriute to house expenses. He then began brandishing a skillet at his roommate and threatening to batter him. He then put the man in a headlock and attempted to prevent him from entering his bedroom. Police were called and arrested the man for battery and transported him to the Champaign County Sheriff's Office.

- A 43-year-old Champaign man was arrested for battery at Skeleton Place, 302 S. Second St., on Monday night. According to a police report, the man struck a 36-year-old Champaign man in the head for looking at his "European beverage."

- A 23-year-old Champaign woman attempted to steal a douche kit and silicon bottle nipples from Country Market Discount Foods, 1911 Glenn Park Drive, on Thursday. According to a police report, the woman concealed items in her purse and tried to leave without paying. She was arrested for retail theft and brought to the Champaign County Sheriff's Office.

- A 31-year-old Champaign woman threatened to "blow up the block" at the 100 block of Roper Street on Saturday. According to a police report, no charges were filed against the woman.

- A 22-year-old Urbana man told police someone is throwing his mail "all around the hallway of his apartment building" at the 1200 block of East Florida Avenue. According to a police report, the man reported it is an ongoing problem that his mail is opened and thrown around. There are no suspects.

- While completely nude, a 50-year-old Champaign man entered a 22-year-old Champaign woman's residence Monday without permission, then battered her.

- A 12-year-old Champaign girl allegedly punched young children while on her paper route last month. According to an April 29 police report, she punched an 8-year-old Champaign boy at the 600 block of West Clark Street. The report stated she has also punched other children in the past month.

Good job, Champaign Police Department. Keep up the good work... We all know how exhausting your job must be, helping old ladies cross the street and getting cats out of trees.

Take Him Down

Whenever aiming a heavy-caliber firearm at a live tiger, you should first check if there are any humans standing next to the tiger.

Some things, no matter how many times you read them, still don't make sense. It seems like the harder you try to use your intellect to comprehend the ridiculousness of it all, the more and more insane the whole thing starts to feel.

Take, for example, this amazingly ludicrous story from the town of Warsaw, Poland. Hell, we even talked to a few eyewitnesses who were there when it actually happened. But we still don't understand how you manage to shoot the vet before you shoot the tiger. We do, however, understand why the tiger wanted to escape. The conditions in which most Polish zoo animals live are quite atrocious.

We've been waiting for this for a long time.

The Simpsons Movie is coming out on July 27th, 2007. Mark it on your calendars.

For God's Sake, Throw Away Your Razors

That thing is pointy, fellas.

Representing your country in international competition is an achievement by itself. But, when you represent your country in an international competition of moustache and beard growing, you are doing considerably better. May the best facial hair win.

As soon as we found out that the World Moustache and Beard Championships was an actual event and not some figment of our imagination, we had to learn more. So, we decided the best person to contact was Phil Olsen, the founder and self-appointed captain of Beard Team USA. He graciously agreed to share with us his extensive knowledge and expertise in the field of facial hair competitions. Here is what we managed to learn from the questions we asked Phil:

How did you get started in the world of competitive facial hair?

I stumbled into the World Beard and Moustache Championships in Sweden in 1999 and immediately realized the USA was under-represented. In 2003, I hosted the first-ever WBMC in America, which took place in Carson City, Nevada. Since then, interest in the WBMC has grown here in the states.

What are Beard Team USA's chances in this year's world championships?

It is too early to say as there are still six months to go. It is clear that staying the course will not lead to victory. We need an all-out surge of patriotic Americans willing to support their country by growing beards and moustaches. A non-binding resolution is not enough.

What is your personal favorite style of facial hair? Ours has always been the "friendly mutton chops", which is basically a long pair of sideburns connected by a moustache.

I like a long, symmetrical, round, solid, full beard like the one I have.

It is a widely-known fact that the Civil War era was a golden age for the world of facial hair, with such pioneers as Ambrose Burnside and Jeb Stuart leading the way. Do you have a favorite moustache/beard from the mid-1800s?

U.S. Grant as seen on the $50 bill.

One of the most known and admired moustaches in recent history was worn by Alex Trebek, host of popular day-time gameshow Jeopardy. Do you think his decision to shave the moustache off was a foolish one?

I don't respond to questions about Alex Trebek unless phrased in the form of an answer.

George Steinbrenner, owner of the New York Yankees, forbids any of his players to wear facial hair. On the other hand, Charlie Finley, who owned the Oakland A's during the 1970's, encouraged all his players to grow beards and moustaches. Which strategy do you think is more effective?

Clearly Finley's strategy is more effective. The Yankees would not have a chance at the World Beard and Moustache Championships, but the 70's A's would no doubt have done well.

Are there any women who compete in world-class beard competition?

I don't know. Contestants are not tested for gender.

Do you think your sport will increase in popularity in the near future?

Surely, especially once we demonstrate how shaving contributes to global warming.


Again, a big thank you goes out to Phil Owen for helping us out and answering the above questions. Be sure to check out his blog to stay up to date on all Beard Team USA news. Hopefully, we can check in with him after the World Championships in September to see how the US team did.

And, for the record, shaving that moustache was the worst career move Trebek ever made.

Thank God For Vodka

Kick his ass, Sea-bass.

The subject matter of this post is kind of bittersweet. Why bittersweet? Because here at HPO, we love vodka, but we hate Australians. Actually, it wouldn't be a stretch to say that we really, really love vodka, and we really, really hate Australian people.

Whenever you "decide" to wrestle a shark, we always thought it requires the complex reasoning and analytical skills of the human brain. Apparently, it doesn't. Phillip Kerkhof, a forty year old man from Australia, jumped into the water and wrestled a shark after drinking many, many vodka drinks at the local saloon.

If there's a lesson to be learned here, it's this: all Australians, without exception, are degenerate alcoholics who abuse animals and need to be avoided at all costs Sharks and their habitats should be handled with caution.

We decided to dig a little deeper. According to the International Shark Attack File, a comprehensive authority on the danger of sharks, more than one-third of all shark attacks occur in Florida or Australia... Very interesting. Is this a product of the local ecosystem and the higher number of sharks in the waters? Or, is the increased rate of attacks a result of the mental incompetence of Floridians and Australians?

Well, the answer to that isn't very easy to figure out. We just have no idea how these things happen. How do you put yourself in that kind of position? Is it that easy to get a shark to swallow your entire body, head-first?

This video is originally from a radio broadcast, but the idiot that posted it on youtube has some serious language problems. The spelling is atrocious, the grammar is suspect, and the punctuation looks like something Christopher Walken would put together. A total disaster, but still humorous.

The file can be downloaded over at studio360.

Russell Crowe is Nuts

Does this man look sane to you?

We decided to do some good old fashioned research to find out if Russell Crowe is totally insane or not. After putting in some solid man-hours of labor, we came up with some good stuff.

Russell (or 'Russ' as we like to call him) reminds us of why we have always hated Australians in the first place. He is a womanizer, a drunk, a violent raging lunatic, and a sub-par actor. After reading the information below, you won't be able to disagree with us. Here we go.

Exhibit A: February, 2002. At a British acting awards dinners, Crowe drinks "numerous cans of Victoria's Bitter" before learning that a poem he had used for his acceptance speech had been cut from the re-broadcast of the awards.

Steaming drunk and fuming with rage, Crowe and two of his bodyguards drag the director of the awards into a back room, where Crowe backed the director against the wall. "I don't give a fuck who you are," said Crowe. "Who on earth had the fucking audacity to take out the best actors's poem? You fucking piece of shit, I'll make sure you never work in Hollywood."

Strong words, Russ. Way to defend your precious poem. Go pour another 15 pints of beer into yourself, you hooligan.

(Editor's note: We have learned that the poem that Russ tried to read was Anne Finch's "To a Husband")


Exhibit B: November 2003. At a party for Crowe's metrosexual blockbuster "Master and Commander", Russell furiously swore at a waitress after she offered him some salmon nibbles.

The waitress, Vanessa Boni, claims that she noticed Russell Crowe chatting with Sting, so she approached to offer him a salmon snack.

"I was in a special VIP room and offered him a snack," said Boni. "But he said to me, 'Fuck off, with your fucking salmon...' It was just outrageous."

Crowe, who had most likely been drinking for hours and hours before the dinner, should be ashamed of himself. Apparently, he has no recollection of his own childhood, because if he did, he might remember that both of his parents were caterers that served rich and pretentious clowns like him for a living.

When he's not blowdrying his hair, Russ enjoys beating the crap out of people.

Exhibit C: August 2002. At the opening party for the cast and crew of Crowe's movie, Russ attacks a co-star and throws him across the bar. We're guessing that Russell had drank himself stupid at this point.

Luckily, the brawl was short-lived, but Russ sunk to a new low: "Crowe had to be subdued by a muscular woman friend of another actor. She got him in a hammer lock."

Exhibit D: September 2002. Russ "challenged a group of drinkers in the Mexican resort of Rosarita to a fight" after they made fun of him. The men began methodically beating the bejesus out of Crowe until his personal trainer, Lourene Bevaart, stepped up to the plate.

Lourene dropped three of the guys and saved Russell's ass from a boatload of embarassment.

Do you see a pattern emerging here?

Exhibit E: Steve Martin cracks a joke about Russ at the Oscars.... Russell stares down Martin, buys a bottle of Wild Turkey, then waits for him in the parking lot:

Exhibit F: 1998, Alberta, Canada. Crowe is boozing it up heavily in a Canadian bar. According to witnesses, "Crowe had a few too many and blasted ice hockey as a sport for wimps. Locals warned him to shut up but he stood on a chair and branded Alberta 'boring.' That did it. The place erupted."

The police had to come rescue him from getting his head ripped off by "30 burly timber workers."

Exhibit G: August 2004. Crowe assaults his bodyguard on the set of one of Crowe's films. The bodyguard apparently took offense to Russell's advances on a female extra, so the two exchanged words. According to the bodyguard, Crowe attempted to bite him during the brawl: "He did take a nip at my chest - I was trying to smother him at the time."

Exhibit H: November 2002. Crowe is arrested by riot police after attacking one of New Zealand's wealthiest men, Eric Watson, in an upscale London restaurant. Apparently, Crowe and Watson have a history of bad blood ever since a woman got between them.

So, when ponytail-wearing Crowe spotted Watson, it was over. Apparently, earlier in the evening, Crowe was spotted "sinking pints of strong Stella Artois in a West End pub." Then, at the restaurant, Crowe "polished off a mountain of Japanese food" and began throwing plates around the restaurant before assaulting Watson in the restroom.

We remind you now that the restaurant where this is happening is one of the nicest, poshest restaurants in London.

The police found Crowe lying on the bathroom floor with the other man on top of him, pummelling him.

Conclusion: Russell Crowe is, in fact, completely nuts.

This is No Game

THIS IS NO GAME

by JACK HANDEY

This is no game. You might think this is a game, but, trust me, this is no game.

This is not something where rock beats scissors or paper covers rock or rock wraps itself up in paper and gives itself as a present to scissors. This isn't anything like that. Or where paper types something on itself and sues scissors.

This isn't something where you yell "Bingo!" and then it turns out you don't have bingo after all, and what are the rules again? This isn't that, my friend.

This isn't something where you roll the dice and move your battleship around a board and land on a hotel and act like your battleship is having sex with the hotel.

This isn't tiddlywinks, where you flip your tiddly over another player's tiddly and an old man winks at you because he thought it was a good move. This isn't that at all.

This isn't something where you sink a birdie or hit a badminton birdie or do anything at all with birdies. Look, just forget birdies, O.K.?

Maybe you think this is all one big joke, like the farmer with the beautiful but promiscuous daughter. But what they don't tell you is the farmer became so depressed that he eventually took his own life.

This is not some brightly colored, sugarcoated piece of candy that you can brush the ants off of and pop in your mouth.

This is not playtime or make-believe. This is real. It's as real as a beggar squatting by the side of the road, begging, and then you realize, Uh-oh, he's not begging.

This is as real as a baby deer calling out for his mother. But his mother won't be coming home anytime soon, because she is drunk in a bar somewhere.

It's as real as a mummy who still thinks he's inside a pyramid, but he's actually in a museum in Ohio.

This is not something where you can dress your kid up like a hobo and send him out trick-or-treating, because, first of all, your kid's twenty-three, and, secondly, he really is a hobo.

All of this probably sounds oldfashioned and "square" to you. But if loving your wife, your country, your cats, your girlfriend, your girlfriend's sister, and your girlfriend's sister's cat is "square," then so be it.

You go skipping and prancing through life, skipping through a field of dandelions. But what you don't see is that on each dandelion is a bee, and on each bee is an ant, and the ant is biting the bee and the bee is biting the flower, and if that shocks you then I'm sorry.

You have never had to struggle to put food on the table, let alone put food on a plate and try to balance it on a spoon until it gets to your mouth.

You will never know what it's like to work on a farm until your hands are raw, just so people can have fresh marijuana. Or what it's like to go to a factory and put in eight long hours and then go home and realize that you went to the wrong factory.

I don't hate you; I pity you. You will never appreciate the magnificent beauty of a double rainbow, or the plainness of a regular rainbow.

You will never grasp the quiet joy of holding your own baby, or the quiet comedy of handing him back to his "father."

I used to be like you. I would put my napkin in my lap, instead of folding it into a little tent over my plate, like I do now, with a door for the fork to go in.

I would go to parties and laugh - and laugh and laugh - every time somebody said something, in case it was supposed to be funny. I would walk in someplace and slap down a five-dollar bill and say, "Give me all you got," and not even know what they had there. And whenever I found two of anything I would hold them up to my head like antlers, and then pretend that one "antler" fell off.

I went waltzing along, not caring where I stepped or if the other person even wanted to waltz.

Food seemed to taste better back then. Potatoes were more potatoey, and turnips less turnippy.

But then something happened, something that would make me understand that this is no game. I was walking past a building and I saw a man standing high up on a ledge. "Jump! Jump!" I started yelling. What happened next would haunt me for the rest of my days: the man came down from the building and beat the living daylights out of me. Ever since then, I've realized that this is no game.

Maybe one day it will be a game again. Maybe you'll be able to run up and kick a pumpkin without people asking why you did that and if you're going to pay for it.

Perhaps one day the Indian will put down his tomahawk and the white man will put down his gun, and the white man will pick up his gun again because, Ha-ha, sucker.

One day we'll just sit by the fire, chew some tobacky, toast some marshmackies, and maybe strum a tune on the ole guitacky.

And maybe one day we'll tip our hats to the mockingbird, not out of fear but out of friendliness.

If there's one single idea I'd like you to take away from this, it is: This is no game. The other thing I'd like you to think about is, could I borrow five hundred dollars?

(Author's Note: Since finishing this article, I have been informed that this is, in fact, a game. I would like to apologize for everything I said above. But please think about the five hundred dollars.)

The article can be found in its entirety over at The New Yorker.

Slab City

She almost one-upped Elvis Presley...

At the risk of sounding perverse, we first wanted to comment on the death of hollywood bimbo hell-bound goldbricker Anna Nicole Smith... According to rumor-mill powerhouse Tyler Durden, the above picture was one of the last pictures ever taken of Anna, just hours before she kicked the bucket.

Face down on a marble floor... Does that beat sitting on the crapper with your pants around your ankles?

Sorry Buddy.

And, due to the overwhelming amount of messages we received in the HPO mailbag, we realize that we left Buddy the Skateboarding Bulldog off our list of coolest dogs. For that, we sincerely apologize to Buddy and all his fans. In case you missed Buddy earlier, we will re-post his video:

That's some fine skateboarding.

(Editor's note: After double-checking, we found out that we hadn't received any messages at all in our mailbag. HPO apologizes for the misunderstanding.)

Cheddar

This dog craps on anything we've ever accomplished.

We here at HPO have no qualms with animals being more successful than we are. None at all. That being said, we would like to introduce you to a small Jack Russell terrier named Tillamook Cheddar. Tillie is a world-famous painter that has achieved very much in her young dog life. In fact, she is so cool that she has already made it to the number two spot on HPO's "Coolest Dogs of All Time" list. Here's a quick look at the coolest dogs of all time, as ranked by the creative element of this website:

#1 - Spuds Mackenzie

Spuds is best known for being the face dog of a massive beer marketing scheme about 15 years ago. He solidified his reputation by becoming widely known as the first dog to wear a sport coat without any pants. Spuds's smooth demeanor and skill with the ladies earned him much fame and recognition. Countless rip-offs of Spuds can be seen in mainstream pop culture even today.

Here is one of Spuds's more refined pieces:




#2 - Tillie

The most famous dog painter of all time, Tillie is a seasoned vet of the cut-throat lifestyle of a young canine artist. In addition, she is an accomplished actress, model, and musician. Her paintings sell for thousands of dollars, she has been in the news all over the world, and her exhibitions have gone international. More on Tillie later.

#3 - Sergeant Stubby

Stubby is the most successful non-human soldier in American military history. During WWI, Sgt Stubby faithfully served his country along with the all the other bright, flowering young men of the 102nd Infantry in France. Stubby was wounded in combat, but would return to the trenches and eventually survived the war. His brave service record over the course of fighting several battles (including the bloodbath at Verdun) earned him several medals and awards. He is also the only dog in history to reach the rank of Sergeant.

Least-cool dog of all time:

Mr. Winkles is a pathetic furball that more closely resembles a varmit that you might find licking up barbecue sauce in your dumpster than any type of respectable dog. Rumor has it that he once lost a fight to an ant. His official website, which is almost as inept as he is, does him justice.

The rest of the coolest dogs list is inconsequential.

Anyways, since Tillie is a fan favorite around these parts, we put forth a solid effort into researching this fine animal, and we somehow managed to get an exclusive question-and-answer session with Tillie's manager, Bowman:

1. How old is Tillie? What kind of childhood did she have?
Tillie just turned 8 on January 17, 2007, which makes her a Capricorn. I don't know much about the first 2 months of her life, except that she spent them in Greenwich, CT, with her mother Winnie and her father Nitro, and her 5 littermates. She moved with me to Brooklyn when she was about 10 weeks old. I think she had a happy "childhood" though she started working at a very early age -- Tillie had her first art opening when she was 9 months old.

2. Tillamook Cheddar is an unusual name. What are its origins? Does Tillie like cheese?
I grew up in Portland, Oregon, eating lots of Tillamook Cheddar, the most popular cheese in Oregon. As a major cheese enthusiast, I decided to name my first dog after a cheese. My sister Amelie suggested Cheddar, and I decided to add Tillamook, partly out of nostalgia, and also because it shortens nicely to "Tillie". Tillie loves cheese -- the stinkier the better!

3. The intellectual level of dogs encompasses the entire spectrum, from "dumb as a box of rocks" all the way up to "Barbara Streisand". How would you describe Tillie's intellect?
Colin Powell.

4. Does she drink out of the toilet and/or eat insects?
No and no.

5. Could you briefly describe how exactly Tillie creates her art? Please, for clarity, also describe any sound effects she might make during the process.
This is a description from Tillie's web site: The artist's primary process is a dynamic color transfer technique. Inpreparation for each of Tillie's works, her assistants assemble a touch-sensitive recording device by affixing pigment-coated vellum to a sheet of lithograph paper backed by mat board. The artist takes the prepared "canvas" in her mouth and brings it to her workspace. Working on the outside surface, she applies pressure with teeth and claws in a methodic ritual marked by dramatic shifts in tempo and intensity. The resultant sharp and sweeping intersecting lines complement the artist's delicate paw prints and subtle tongue impressions, composing an expressionistic image that is revealed on the paper beneath when she is finished. She works with shocking intensity, sometimes to the point of destroying her creations. There is a lot of panting, as well as barking, and the sounds of her scratching the surface with her claws.

6. How long does it take her to complete a painting? It is obvious that not every painting can be a winner. Does she ever work hard on a piece, finally complete it, only to decide that it is terrible and throw it away?
Tillie usually works between 10 minutes and 1 hour in a typical painting session. I have never thrown a piece away, but sometimes I have Tillie work over a drawing in a different color -- this is how the nonmonochromatic pieces are made. Tillie appears to have no interest whatsoever in the appearance of her finished works, which is one reason I describe her approach as "process-oriented."

7. Everybody knows that dogs love Mexican food. How do you keep Tillie's cravings for pico de gallo under control?
I try not to feed Tillie onions, as they are reported to be bad for dogs, along with chocolate, grapes, and nuts (Grape Nuts are okay, but she doesn't like those much). She doesn't care much for raw tomato, either, so pico de gallo is not a big temptation for her. She does like spicy foods, however, and almost anything with cheese or meat. I don't worry about Tillie's diet too much. She gets plenty of exercise, she's in great shape, her stool is nearly always impeccable.

8. Would Tillie rather meet George W. Bush or Bill Clinton?
That's a tough one. GWB seems to really like his dog Barney, so maybe he would be especially nice to Tillie. Then again, Clinton seemed pretty cool with Buddy, and he wears that funky friendship bracelet, which may or may not be an indicator of a bona fide dog lover. I think Bill Clinton would have a more interesting reaction to her art, because of his greater intellect and breadth of experience. But that would matter more to me than it would to Tillie, as I imagine she has very little interest in critical responses to her work.

9. If Tillie could talk, what's the first thing she would say?
Honestly, I have no idea. I just hope it isn't "You're fired."

It should be pretty obvious by now that Tillie a juggernaut in terms of dog intelligence. Hell, most dogs that we associate with barely know their own name. You can check out Tillie's official homepage for more information or to see her portfolio of art or schedule of upcoming events.

Editor's note: Video removed by request of readers.

Happy Hot Pipes Birthday

The official HPO fan club in full swing.

Today marks the one year anniversary of this blog. Our main goal, which we achieved, was to still be blogging this many moons later.

Our secondary goal, which we did not achieve, was to put a monkey wearing a pirate costume into space. Our excuse is that no one took us seriously, but critics claim that we set lofty goals that are "unreal" and "make no sense."

To that, we say: "Go take a long walk off a short pier."

Anyways, we are celebrating the fact that we are still writing 12 months, 150 posts, and over 22,000 readers later. A lot has changed since our first post, but the message has remained the same. And because of this, we would like to explicitly thank at this time all of our Hot Pipes field reporters, who send us tips, stories, and ideas from around the world.

A big Hot Pipes thank-you goes out to Ophelia Johnson, Bill Johnson, Jimmie Fontaine, Hector Golightly, "Free-ballin" Colin aka Captain Midnight, Johnny Red, Koch, Pete Barley, Mooney Pantagraph, Jelly, and last but not least, the man known only as "El Cerdo Azul".

Without you, dear contributors, this blog would be nothing more than a haven of mindless ramblings and inane BS. With you, however, we are a shining beacon of literate enlightenment that is transmitted at the speed of light through the fiber-optic wires of the internet, all the way to your high-tech man's idiot box, where you can read it and hopefully share a laugh with us.

This is how we feel.

As a result of the past year's mental gymnastics, the majority of the creative element of this website is celebrating by going on vacation in Miami. As a result, no posts will occur for the next three days. We hope you will survive, and we hope you will join us for another year of reducing things to the ridiculous.

Viva el tango de los pipas calientes.

Ain't it good to be alive?