I think when you die, you DO go to heaven, and it’s almost exactly like they say it is in the cartoons. You walk up to two giant gates made of solid gold on a field of clouds, and St. Peter is there, and he checks your name off of a scroll that is so long you would have found it absurd if you were still alive, but now you are dead, and nothing is absurd anymore. When you walk inside, all of your loved ones are there, and all of the pets you’ve ever had run around your feet, tails wagging, and Mozart and Einstein and Audrey Hepburn are having an argument but they interrupt whatever point of philosophy one of them was trying to defend to invite you to dinner, which is served at an infinitely long table piled with all of your favorite foods, set up alongside a postcard-pretty river that babbles like music. The sun is warm on your cheek, and for a second you might stop to wonder “what” sun and “what” cheek, but you don’t have any time, because you’re too busy transforming into pure energy and happiness. But right before the transformation is complete and you become one with the universe, a seraph “taps” you on the “shoulder” and reminds you of the one rule governing all of heaven: NO DANCING. “No fair, dancing is so fun,” you might say. “Well,” the angel shrugs, “you should have gotten your dancing done when you had the chance, like this guy did.” Fair enough. Good point, angel.
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Just do what I do, blast Daft Punk on your headphones and dance in your chair. It’s most fun if you use e-mail or g-chat to have friends/coworkers join you, then it becomes a dance party.
Or any LCD Soundsystem, really. The slow ones are where you mellow and take some more E. While at work.
Come back from the Event Horizon! I’ve seen that movie, it ends horribly (or is horrible, whichever). We can schedule an inter-office dance party if you want.
Me too! Between this and yesterday’s End Times Anthem, I feel pressured now to get a maximum amount of dancing, fried whores and Obama-lovin’ in before I get raptured (not raptured-raptured, though, b/c JAIL/HELL).
Grandpappy can’t help his pavlovian dance-response ever since he got clunked on the head with a ghetto blaster in ‘87. Maybe you’ll be a little more sensitive after you read his upcoming memoir, “Hip Hop on Pop” (ghost-written by Drs. Sesss and Dre.)
Awesome! In heaven, we’ll ALL be just ONE-degree of separation from Kevin Bacon. That sounds like eternal paradise to me! Though, I suppose that would also make the Kevin Bacon game decidedly more boring. Trade-offs, I guess.
This and all the other videos of old dudes breaking into spontaneous dance are obviously a viral marketing campaign for the upcoming “Cocoon” reboot. Rare miss, Delahaye.
If this were an animal video there would be all these comments on YouTube about how a normal animal would never behave this way so there has to be something neurologically wrong with it. So basically Grandpa is on ecstasy.
After watching Death Sentence, a terrible movie starring Kevin Bacon as a father in search of vigilante justice directed by Saw's James Wan, Gabe embarked on The Hunt For The Worst Movie of All Time. This is his sad journey.
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looking good grandapa.
Someone get this guy to the local arcade. His dance moves scream DDR!
Oh man. Screw work. I’m going dancing right now.
Just do what I do, blast Daft Punk on your headphones and dance in your chair. It’s most fun if you use e-mail or g-chat to have friends/coworkers join you, then it becomes a dance party.
I lead a sad life, don’t I?
Daft Punk is definitely the best choice for this. That, or LCD Soundsystem’s Daft Punk Is Playing At My House (My House!)
If your life is sad, mine is numbed into such existential despair that I have far past the event horizon of recovery.
Or any LCD Soundsystem, really. The slow ones are where you mellow and take some more E. While at work.
Come back from the Event Horizon! I’ve seen that movie, it ends horribly (or is horrible, whichever). We can schedule an inter-office dance party if you want.
Me too! Between this and yesterday’s End Times Anthem, I feel pressured now to get a maximum amount of dancing, fried whores and Obama-lovin’ in before I get raptured (not raptured-raptured, though, b/c JAIL/HELL).
Not seen: Gabe’s embarrassed grandkids.
Not smelt: moth balls and body odor.
Makes me miss Richard Dunn. Never forget!
Tell me about it.
On an unrelated note, RIP Gap Jeans overlay.
Yours was a denim that overlayed too bright, too fast.
I almost didn’t come to the site today because I wanted this to be the Vgum thumbnail forever:
Your stock (I don’t actually keep a chart of Monster’s stock, but maybe I should (I shouldn’t)) has been trending upwards these past weeks Patrick M.
Nice musings about Heaven Gabe but it’s clearly ridiculous. No Doy.
Everyone knows Einstein, Mozart and Hepburn were TERRIBLE cooks.
Gotta keep the body moving; don’t want to imbalance the humours, right Gabe?
Good lord, I almost forgot about my biweekly blood-letting! Thanks for the reminder!
Grandpappy can’t help his pavlovian dance-response ever since he got clunked on the head with a ghetto blaster in ‘87. Maybe you’ll be a little more sensitive after you read his upcoming memoir, “Hip Hop on Pop” (ghost-written by Drs. Sesss and Dre.)
The Freaks Come Out at Night Incident is only mentioned at Thanksgiving dinner in hushed tones.
Mozart, Einstein and Audrey Hepburn were all arguing about whether or not this was racist:
the correct answer is yes.
So, Gabe, I guess the Gap jeans ad was a success?
Looks like he was doing a combination of the twist and the jitterbug. Truly visionary.
Look out, Hip Hop Harry
…or not
Uh-Oh. I trust Gabe enough to believe what he says about Heaven, but let’s all do the right thing and not tell Walter Steding about that rule.
Also, don’t tell him about socks. Seriously, let’s see how long he can go before he figures that one out on his own.
I DON’T KNOW WHY I MADE THIS.
This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever posted. It is too early for Videogum, ladies.
Not to pull a Winwood, but I noticed an error in your statement.
This is the
stupidestmost awesome thing I’ve ever posted.Corrected.
No Dancing!!! That sounds like Hell to me!
Don’t worry, guys. Once Kevin Bacon gets there, we’ll get that rule changed.
Awesome! In heaven, we’ll ALL be just ONE-degree of separation from Kevin Bacon. That sounds like eternal paradise to me! Though, I suppose that would also make the Kevin Bacon game decidedly more boring. Trade-offs, I guess.
THE OLD GRAY MARE SHE AIN’T WHAT SHE USED TO BE
Also, the jellycam shakiness on this video made me sick. Cellphone cams are the worst.
That video made me smile. I like to smile, especially when I have no earthly idea why I’m doing it.
This and all the other videos of old dudes breaking into spontaneous dance are obviously a viral marketing campaign for the upcoming “Cocoon” reboot. Rare miss, Delahaye.
If this were an animal video there would be all these comments on YouTube about how a normal animal would never behave this way so there has to be something neurologically wrong with it. So basically Grandpa is on ecstasy.