Arkapithecus | Arkansas news, politics, opinion, restaurants, music, movies and art

Arkapithecus 
Member since Oct 16, 2010

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I lived in Dongola with my lovely wife.

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Recent Comments

Re: “A few bits of Arkiana

"Hide and watch"...as in "if you don't believe me, you just wait and see."

0 likes, 1 dislike
Posted by Arkapithecus on 11/17/2011 at 4:10 PM

Re: “Winning on road in SEC no easy task

Having sucked long enough on a sour apple Jolly Rancher this week, I gradually came around to this same conclusion. Good teams win, and that's what they're doing (on the road, no less). Sure would be nice to trounce the Ol' Ball Coach though by several scores though.

Posted by Arkapithecus on 11/04/2011 at 3:30 PM

Re: “Let's recap

One time I put a stick in my butt

Posted by Arkapithecus on 07/13/2011 at 5:06 PM

Re: “The irony and the hipster-y

I share SteveEugene's frustration that Gordy fails to distinguish between hipsters and scenesters. I'll point out that he also fails to reconize another important subset--hamsters.

I had one on top of my dresser until my sister dropped a bottle rocket in his cage one July afternoon. His ears bled for three days and then he died.

I would not say that my hamster's life was "mirrored in the fashion and music world" the way it mirrors SteveEugene's. It was the 80's. Almost no one was peeing on wood shavings
back then. New clothes? Never. Always the same buff and lemon fur. He held on to old stuf forever! Kind of a packrat, really.

I guess there are lots of differences between hamsters and hipsters, but Gordy seems satisfied to just lump them all together.

Posted by Arkapithecus on 05/10/2011 at 2:01 PM

Re: “Why do we torture ourselves at the gym?

CrossFit is nothing but a bunch of stationary bikes.

Posted by Arkapithecus on 05/10/2011 at 12:34 PM

Re: “Something for nothing

Here we go again with Gordy and his gooberdanglin' whatsanuts. If you want to know what sort of freak writes this garbage, listen to this:

Several years ago, when Mr. Gordy was out in the wilds of Newton county playing cowboy poet, I was a Auxiliary Junior Deputy with the Berryville police department and I spent quite...some...time just listening in on the scanner in the event that happenstance might take a body into the dark Ozark night to apprehend a major criminal. A politician. Hippies. Or any public servant.

It so happened that one November evening we answered a 10-13 somewhere out near Ponca. Neighbors had reported strange sounds coming from a storage building on Munn Baker's land. When we arrived we found Officer Floyd Meeks in some form of shock--just sitting in his patrol car drooling and muttering about basting turkeys. One officer took Floyd to the hospital while the rest of us stared off at the dimly-lit asbestos shingle structure in the distance. A high-pitched din poured out from its walls, along with a series of low murmurs and moans. We edged up to the shed and peered through the small glazed window. It was caked with dirt that obscured much of the scene inside. The noises intensified. There was a frenetic scuttling like that of thousands of little feet scratching the cement floor. As my eyes focused, I made out what I thought was a tail whipping past. Then another. And another. God they were everywhere. Gray field mice. If there were ten, I swear, there were 100,000 of them--piled on top of each other in a seething frenzy. My gaze turned upward, and there I saw him--Graham Gordy--naked in the middle of that dank shed astride a bucket of some unknown liquid into which he periodically dipped a long ladle advertising a chili cook-off from years gone by. He had his back to us, and we could not ascertain every aspect of the figure before us, but what we could make out was Gordy raising the ladle to his head and pouring the liquid slowly, slowly into his hair, from whence it flowed downward into his netherparts and elsewhere. With each application, the mice swarmed like bees onto Gordy's body, covering him entirely so that he was nothing but a crawling mass of nibbling rodents, squealing with delight. Gordy himself let forth a round of deep bellows--positively bovine--that curdled the blood and caused Officer Charles to soil his blues. The little animals scattered following each moan, exposing their host briefly, only to return again to his marinating flesh.

We turned around and went home. Told the neighbors there was a tomcat snagged on a fishing lure, and they would have to call the county in the morning to have it removed. Or shoot it themself.

I never listened to the scanner no more. Floyd took work as the sextant at the Holiness Temple. We don't know exactly what Gordy was doing in that shed. But it wasn't right. Officer Nate Hooten speculated that those mice was munchin his taters. From the way he was moaning, I'd tend to agree.

Just thought you should know.

Posted by Arkapithecus on 11/01/2010 at 7:15 PM

Re: “Best face forward

I have read all of this Graham Gordy's columbs, and I must submit a few critiscasms of the author and his writing stuff.

1) I can't stand any more of Mr. Gordy's panty-sniffing Liberal critiques of contemporary culture. It's clear from his use of Erving Goffman quotes that he has spent too much time reading books and not enough having sex with women. If we needed another Andy Rooney, we'd donate typewriters to the Presbyterian Village and wait. Also, I have it on good authority that when Mr. Gordy lived in NY, he used to steal the aforementioned Mr. Rooney's pants from a drycleaners on W 23rd Street. God only knows why....

2) In a former columb, he called "Murder She Wrote" a "mediocre" TV show. I was hurt by that.

3) I have asked, and Mr. Gordy will not give me any of the Adderall he gets from the kitchen staff at ZaZa's. He is a prick. This is widely known. Animals know it.

4) Bringing up the whole "Who want to sex Mutombo?" thing is just one more example of Mr. Gordy's unchecked anti-semitism, which this paper apparently thinks is funny or quaint.

5) Another profane element in Mr. Gordy's work that the editors of this paper haven't seemed to catch is that he continues to encode the words "horse vulva" in his columbs--like some sort of sicko modern-day George Fischer. If you don't believe me check!

I generally enjoy the Arkansas Times, but if you continue to print Mr. Gordy's pieces I will have to fight him.

0 likes, 1 dislike
Posted by Arkapithecus on 10/16/2010 at 9:34 PM

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