3rd Chair Trombone

Free Burrito! (BH)

If you get one of these in the mail on Thursday, is there any way the weekend WON'T be awesome?

They have clearly done their market research.

l

"The Biskitts!" (TS)

I hear Jiff when I listen to this announcer's read.  There's so much going on in this clip. So much to enjoy. What do you think?

 

A little late Spring hard drive cleaning unearths gold (TS)

Your pal and mine, Bobby, has done it again with an unusual but highly entertaining hodge podge stemming straight out of his pop-culture soaked cerebellum. I would have laughed harder, but I just took a sleeping pill and everything's getting fuzzy. Pray you don't make the same mistake as me. Click and go.

Let's push this over 1,000 views (TS)

A while back, Bobby was a sport and combined this old Spanish claymation kid's show with old school gangsta rap, and the results were enjoyable. You may have seen this before. But you haven't seen it again. And that's why you need to watch it now. Let's bump it over a 1,000 views and send it on its way to becoming viral someday. Because isn't that what it's all about? Getting lots of anonymous strangers to watch your poop on the Internet?   

"All the best, That Guy From The Scorpion King" (TS)

I can see this proudly displayed in the same household wherein hangs a velvet portrait of someone's deceased Rottweiler.  You're welcome. 

That's Hedley. (TS)

RIP, our brilliant, mugging friend.  

I'm an orphan, okay? Can we go now? (TS)

What's up, 3rd Chair Tromboner?

Here's a later episode of Different Strokes wherein Willis mentors Sam to resolve his differences through talking rather than fist fighting. So Sam tries his best, with Willis looking on, but slowly it devolves into chaos. That's when it comes out that the mean kid has a good reason for being an asshole: he's an orphan. Boo hoo.  Waaaaah.  Waaah.

My fascination with this clip is the way they close it.  Wait for it....wait for it...you ready?  The audience applauds. That's old school sitcom, people. 70s and 80s TV audiences spit applause at commercial breaks, even when it was incredibly awkward. Here, it seems as though the audience is applauding the fact that the kid is an orphan. I love old time entertainment. I do.

3CT VISUAL MOVIE REVIEWS (JD)

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

I tried to replicate, at home, my facial expressions while watching this film.  I think they sum up my thoughts nicely.

A clever scheme, all right. (TS)

Check it...an episode of Scooby Doo, in which Jerry Reed not only makes a cameo, but sings a (hit?) song. I'd like to imagine what the scene was like in his agent's office when he pitched the idea to Jerry. 

"You want me to what? Scooby who?"

And then later watching his episode and discovering that those lazy SOBs had neglected to color in the whites of his teeth.  He sounds like he smoked a couple packs of Winstons just before the VO session. Poor bastard. He was only 35 when he appeared here.

Wait for it...(TS)

3rd Chair Trombone Sandwich Review (TS)

May 19, 2008
Southern Style Crispy Chicken Sandwich

This little gem comes as a boon to those living in landlocked regions unable to partake in the goodness that is Chick-fil-A. You see, friends, this sandwich more or less equals a Chick-fil-A Chicken Sandwich, ounce for ounce. It's tasty. It's delicious. It even has pickles. You need to put your hands on this sandwich right away.

What's more, the Mac has put out a fancy breakfast competitor, the Southern Style Chicken Biscuit. What pimps. Yes, I will have one of those, and a Bacon Egg McGriddle, and a few orders of Hashbrowns. Because I need to keep up my energy, what with everything going on right now.

Go forth and eat friends. And see that this sandwich, it is good.

3rd Chair Trombone: A Retrospective (Part Five) (TS)

We've taken a slight break in our walk back through some of the more memorable moments from 3CT's past. Stepping back into the flow, I'd like to direct your attention to a piece brought to us by the great (JD) back in March of 2006. The blog was about ten months old at the time, and we'd each taken swipes at different concepts, conceits and formats. But Jeff (or Jiff as he's known around these parts) decided to waylay us with a wholly unique angle that went where none of us had dared to go before.

This piece is a long one, but well worth it, standing as one of the finest writings this humble site has ever birthed. Jeff would be the first to roll his eyes at such praise, but this one really surprised many of us who were already used to his high level of output. It worked on a level we weren't ready for at 3rd Chair. Melancholy absurdist satire laced with real human emotion. Or something like that.
Lady [sic] and gentlemen, I give you

...I CANNOT TAKE THIS EVERY FIVE YEARS by Ken Lolly (JD)

Open your mind...(TS)

...to this short, stupid but wonderful clip. They don't know how to end it, but that's okay. Special thanks to Stevie, who's recent post on his site allowed me to find this.

Let us all say a prayer for Red Jetta. (TS)

I had to donate that bitch to charity.

That's really something. (TS)

A clip you can believe in...

A nice teaser...

And did someone say, "Video Games?"

Busted. (TS)

Last week, rapper DMX was arrested for speeding and reckless driving in Arizona after speed-enforcement cameras captured him in his bright yellow 1966 Chevrolet going 114 mph on a suburban Phoenix freeway.
I'd like to hear from the Trombone on this...I would.

John Edward Endorses Barack Obama (TS)

By J. Gary Waldino
May 14, 2008
At a rally in Grand Rapids, Mich., on Wednesday evening, international psychic medium John Edward endorsed Barack Obama, who was on the stage with him, to be the Democratic nominee for president.

Sounding a theme of a nation divided into parts by walls, Mr. Edward said, “The reason I am here tonight is that Democratic voters in America have made their choice and so have I.”

Mr. Edward then went on to say, “There is one man who knows in his heart that it is time to tear down that wall and make one America, Barack Obama.”

Mr. Obama, who had introduced Mr. Edward as “one of the great mentalists of our generation, ” responded by saying he was grateful to him for coming to Michigan and giving his endorsement, as well as reuniting him with his deceased Aunt Betta.

Mr. Obama also noted how Mr. Edward had emphasized health care as an issue that is of primary concern, then said it would be a major issue in his administration.

The endorsement comes at a time when the appeal of Mr. Obama appears to be lagging among daytime TV watchers, a group to which Mr. Edward openly appealed.

Story developing...

File under: "we're better than this, but what choice do we have?" (TS)

I know this comes at the tail end of a now fading wave of Internet iconery, but I don't care. That puppet's got something, I tell you.

I think we have it. (TS)

The Omniscient Tattler for May 2, 2008 (TS)

Here’s what you’re thinking today in the Downtown Municipal Courthouse in Los Angeles, CA...

"This looks like it’s gonna be a long, long trial. Think, Gerald! What can you say that will get you kicked off this case?"
--Gerald Fitzsimmons, Defense Attorney





"If the defense over-annunciates one more time after I ask her to speak up, I'm going to hand her ass to her in a box lunch."
--Gideon Lomley, Court Reporter


"I swear to tell the truth and nothing but the hilarious truth, so help me Jackie Mason! God, I hope this comedian lawyer thing works out!"
--Chuck Wells, District Attorney



"The justice system today fails so many of our disadvantaged citizens, from African Americans and Latinos to the poor and mentally unfit. Also, I think I'm getting my period."
--Dee Parks, Juror #9




"The average person does not assume that the judge trying their case is, in fact, indulging in self gratification under his robes. Just just keep your cool, Edgar. And keep stroking. Keep stroking with every ounce of your being."
--The Honorable Edgar Jaysell



"These Certs don’t seem to have much Retsin in them. Then again, I could be sentenced to death in the next twenty minutes, so I really shouldn't complain."
--Warren DeVries, Defendant

"I shouldn’t have eaten that second gyro for lunch. The third, though, that was a work of art, and I stand by that decision."
--Ranjeer Punjab, Alternate Juror





"Maybe I should have worn deodorant today. But then again, they’re running the air conditioner here. Whoowa, how long till a g-d recess already?"
--The Honorable David Anstek

"I object! To a fucking lack of Horsey Sauce at lunch, to the dickface who keyed my car in the Best Buy lot yesterday, to the Armenian wedding in Alhambra Nancy's dragging me to this weekend, to last night's viewer mail segment on O'Reilly, and to the guy who took a shit in the fifth floor Men's Room this morning."
-- Doug Kerry, Public Defender

Here’s what you’re thinking today in the Downtown Municipal Courthouse in Los Angeles, CA...

"This looks like it’s gonna be a long, long trial. Think, Gerald! What can you say that will get you kicked off this case?"
--Gerald Fitzsimmons, Defense Attorney





"If the defense over-annunciates one more time after I ask her to speak up, I'm going to hand her ass to her in a box lunch."
--Gideon Lomley, Court Reporter


"I swear to tell the truth and nothing but the hilarious truth, so help me Jackie Mason! God, I hope this comedian lawyer thing works out!"
--Chuck Wells, District Attorney



"The justice system today fails so many of our disadvantaged citizens, from African Americans and Latinos to the poor and mentally unfit. Also, I think I'm getting my period."
--Dee Parks, Juror #9




"The average person does not assume that the judge trying their case is, in fact, indulging in self gratification under his robes. Just just keep your cool, Edgar. And keep stroking. Keep stroking with every ounce of your being."
--The Honorable Edgar Jaysell



"These Certs don’t seem to have much Retsin in them. Then again, I could be sentenced to death in the next twenty minutes, so I really shouldn't complain."
--Warren DeVries, Defendant

"I shouldn’t have eaten that second gyro for lunch. The third, though, that was a work of art, and I stand by that decision."
--Ranjeer Punjab, Alternate Juror





"Maybe I should have worn deodorant today. But then again, they’re running the air conditioner here. Whoowa, how long till a g-d recess already?"
--The Honorable David Anstek

"I object! To a fucking lack of Horsey Sauce at lunch, to the dickface who keyed my car in the Best Buy lot yesterday, to the Armenian wedding in Alhambra Nancy's dragging me to this weekend, to last night's viewer mail segment on O'Reilly, and to the guy who took a shit in the fifth floor Men's Room this morning."
-- Doug Kerry, Public Defender

Day four of our look back at memorable pieces from the 3rd Chair vault. This one comes to us from the late summer of '05, when a young (BH) was finding his voice on the blog. To date, he had put in a number of solid short form pieces, lists and real-life journal-style numbers, but had yet to really make today's entry his own.

You're invited to sit back, relax, and watch some good, old fashioned American blasphemy:
Things Paul Is Now Glad He Edited From His Letter To The Ephesians (BH)

We're up to our third installment of a look back at some of the posts you may have simply forgotten about, or rather never seen.

This piece, by yours truly, was inspired by years of experience writing for the healthcare industry while demonstrating a clear lack of in-depth understanding of the healthcare industry. It was subsequently submitted to McSweeneys, which in turn let the author know that it was a "promising conceit" but felt "underdeveloped to [them]," and to consider exploring "contemporary health care issues, i.e., co-pay, referrals, emergent v. emergency care" among other things.

The author then proceeded instead to indulge in an exclusive three-week marathon of crazy caption posts, setting a national blog record and winning the attention of automatic robots across the web.

Here now, once again is Welcome to United Confederate Health Plan (TS)

Day two of our look back at some of the forgotten classics from 3CT. Today's entry was actually created pre-3rd Chair in something we liked to call "Goodness Writers Group." This piece was a foreshadowing of the great BH's talent for creating pitch perfect recreations of virtually any genre. But I digress.

Here, for your reading pleasure is Let Go and Let Travis (BH)

While the creators of 3CT are away on vacation--or whatever it is they do with their days--you're invited to share in an ongoing look back at some of the forgotten classics first appearing at this site.

We begin with a piece written back in late June of 2005. The site was still getting its legs underneath itself, and writer JD seemingly set the standard for future works when he penned the following.

Please now enjoy
Skyr: Icelandic Yogurt / The 3rd Chair Trombone Interview (JD)

What's up? You're reading this and you're like, how am I reading invisible writing. Well don't worry. It's perfectly natural, when you have super powers. So sit back, kick up your loafers and indulge in your ability to read things other people can't.

Okay, so the newness has worn off, and you need to up the stakes. I can't blame you. After about three weeks with the ability to read invisible writing, I needed a pick me up. So I learned how to fly, and self-ignite, and press 100 tons. Sort of like the Hulk crossed with the Human Torch. It was an iffy proposition. Later, fools. I'm off to set some real heavy shit on fire, then lift it over my head. Then I'm flying to the Bahamas. Oh yeah.

Brief travelogue of Bobby's southerly stomping grounds.

Dear friends of the Trombone,
You may remember that a while ago, I mentioned I was receiving regular texts and phone calls from a lovelorn Latino who insisted on believing I was the object of his affection. Seems I inherited the phone number belonging to his ex, and she (I believe it's a "she" at this point) never told him. Here's the original post to refresh your memory.
Many of you made valuable suggestions on how to fix the problem. But at the time, it seemed like it might just right itself. I weakened. I hesitated. I hoped the problem would go away.
Then a respected friend at work, highly amused by the situation, convinced me to enter into an elaborate scheme designed to mess with the hombre's head and heart, and hopefully throw him off the scent for good.
He got a fluent Spanish speaker to translate a message to the caller, one which I would text, acting as if I were once again the previous owner of the phone...it would be something to make him think that girlie girl was back in the picture, but that she was begging him to respect my privacy and leave me alone...instead, she would provide him an alternate number where he could finally call her and work things out.
The number happened to belong to another coworker of ours who was off on a romantic getaway weekend in San Diego at the time. Giddy, we hatched the plan and I texted the message off to my adversary. And then a funny thing happened. He didn't call back. Or text.
I started to think that maybe I had gotten through to him, and that maybe our poor friend was getting hit with more calls than he knew what to do with down in San Diego. But then things went south.
The plan, as amusing as it had seemed to me, began to backfire hard. I started getting impassioned texts and increased calls. Yes, friends. The plan only made things worse.
The texts that came in included such gems as:
"Cada dia te siento mejor y mas decidida" = "Every day I feel you better and more determined"
"Donde vienes amorsote" = "Where you come amorsote"
"Es Stephanie" = "Is this Stephanie?"
"Cuando hablavamos yo le decia que ya tenia que salir que hiciera lo que hice y me decia que el queria hacer mas de lo que yo habia logrando fue hace tres dias me llamo"
=
"When hablavamos I was saying to him that I had to go out already that it was doing what I did and was saying to myself that the queria to do more than I there was managing was three days ago my name is"
So...whatever. The texts faded away, but the calls kept coming. And I was sort of content to let them go to voicemail, where I would later delete the minute-long stretches of voiceless background ambience, feeling a bit guilty that I had tried to put one over on old Pepito.
But then the little bastard called me at 4:59 this morning. He hung up and then called back a minute later. I picked up on the second call and groggily answered so that he could know for sure that this was his last chance for mercy. For peace. He hung up and I texted him back a vitriolic message, then laid back down in bed, knowing that it was time to take a stand.
And that's where you come in. I invite you, friends, to take part in the first official scheme of this site.
Announcing The Great 2008 3CT Cell Phone Caper Thingie.
Based on David's brilliant suggestion from February, here's I'd like to do. We'll begin with a basic cease and desist text message that all of us participating will send to the offending phone number using one of two free anonymous web text sites.
We'll work on really pounding Pepito until he backs off and gets the message. And if he doesn't, we'll escalate the messaging.
Step one:
Navigate to either of these two sites:
Sweet ass text message site #1
or
Sweet ass text message site #2
The first site requires no mention of the Service Provider. For the second, I'm almost positive Pepito's Provider is Sprint, so go with that.
Step two:
Copy this message into the message text box:
Deje de llamar Tim y estos textos se pararán.
Step three:
Send that thing to the following number, coded oh-so-cleverly: THREE TWO 3, FIVE 9 ZERO, 52 THREE NINE.
Step four:
Drop a comment on this post to let me know how many texts you sent. The more, the better. The oftener, the awesomer.
Step five:
Pop open a cold brewsky, sit back, and watch what happens. Or, you know, sip on some Yerba Mate. Or chew on Dentine. Whatever. I'm easy.
This should be fun at the very least. It could be dangerous, at the very most. I'm hoping we'll inform his behavior and maybe learn something about ourselves along the way. Who's with me?

From man-made disasters to acts of God, disaster can strike anywhere, at any time, and without warning. Whether it be a chemical spill, hurricane or terrorist attack, knowing what to do during and after a major calamity can make all the difference in protecting you and the ones you love.

3rd Chair Trombone urges you to become informed about disaster preparedness. Here are some handy tips that could one day save your life:

• Disaster preparedness starts with the family! Take the time to develop a family plan for emergencies. A good starting point is your local video store. Rent movies such as Deep Impact, Volcano and the Poseidon Adventure, then spearhead a family brainstorming session to flesh out workable scenarios, including rising conflict and a killer reveal at the end of the 2nd Act.
• Be sure to put together an emergency kit consisting of a flashlight, portable radio, first aid kit, postage stamps, Peach Schnapps, double-sided tape, Pringles, love letters from the fourth grade, that one CD you play when you're really happy, free weights, flip flops, towel, swim trunks, sunscreen, baking sheet, vanilla extract, flour, two cups sugar, one egg, 16 ounce bag of Nestle Toll House Morsels, shotgun.
• If a power blackout occurs, feel your way around the house till you find the light switch.
• Unattended candles are often the cause of fires in the home, and nothing sets the mood or the living room ablaze like Glade's Angel Whispers or Refreshing Spa scented candles.
• Severe storms can frighten important members of your family: namely your pets! Be sure to shut your cat or dog in the hall closet at the first sign of rain.
• In the early stages of a flood, rising waters can reach dangerously high levels in a matter of minutes. Know the right way to tight roll your jeans ahead of time.
• In the event of a tornado, take cover in an abandoned movie theater. That way you can spend the day watching out-of-date prints till the winds die down. Try to find a theater that still has that one movie with that one guy.
• Contrary to popular opinion, landslides do not always travel downhill. Nor do they bend to the will of the people.
• It's never easy when you find yourself in the middle of a race war. Try to get on the good side of whatever ethnicity seems to be winning. Hint: those jokes you heard at the Shriner's convention are either going to make you friends or get you killed. Try testing the mood of the gathered mob with some roleplaying and free association exercises.
• It's everybody's responsibility to report suspected terrorist acts. At the airport and see suspicious behavior? Report it. In an online chatroom and overhear suspicious conversation? Report it. Dining at Chili's and think someone farted on your Chicken Tenders while you were in the men's room? Report it.
• Downed electrical wires pose a significant danger. If you encounter them while in your car, be sure to maintain a constant speed of at least 55 miles per hour while driving across them.
• Did a large meteor just land in your backyard? If so, approach with caution. A consistent greenish glow from the crater fragment indicates that you will probably develop superhuman powers. A consistent reddish glow indicates your neighborhood will soon be overrun by zombies. A brownish glow indicates that you will have diarrhea.
• Coastal residents are encouraged to "tsunami-proof" their homes with Scotchgard™ and Saran Wrap.
• If on hand during the explosive landing of a zeppelin or dirigible, you have successfully travelled back in time more than 70 years. Go straight to the New York Stock Exchange and buy a thousand shares of Google.

is today's Soylent Green.

It's my final day at the company I've worked for going on four years. Mixed feelings. Glad to be moving on to what lies ahead, but I'm afraid I'm a little stuck here.

I'm reminded of our Virginia days, years ago when we were living, the four of us guys, in a house on Liberty Bell Drive. It was just a few months till we'd be moving to LA and the house would be emptied and go to someone else, but we somehow ran afoul of the neighbors, being that our lawnmower was broken and the grass in the front yard was getting pretty high.

After many complaints, it seemed we would have to part with money to buy another lawnmower that we'd only need for another three months or so. A shame, I thought, until I drove by a garage sale one day and saw a little red lawnmower with a "for sale" sign. I stopped and inquired. The man brightened and proceeded to spend half an hour telling me about this mower. He had owned it for about 20 years, and in the process had babied it like a sportscar, dutifully repairing and servicing it, jury-rigging workaround fixes when parts went awry, etc.

He proudly showed me several points to watch, intakes, a throttle he had rebuilt from scratch, adjustments he had painstakingly made to the wheel settings. And then I wrote him a check for $30 and put the lawnmower in my trunk, promising to honor his legacy as best I could, but knowing that we'd probably throw the thing out when we moved.

Today, I feel like that guy, handing over a worn but reliable piece of machinery, something that I put together with my own two hands, sweated over, worried over, lost peace over; and yet I feel like it's just going to be thrown away in a few months. And that's all right., I guess.

After all, I just put in astroturf. But still.

SANTA FE - The image of recently deceased actor Richard Widmark, 93, has appeared in a cookie.  Employee Alma Avalos of the Morning Sun Bakery spotted the beatific formation in her first morning batch of chocolate chip cookies, recognizing immediately the chiseled visage of the beloved character actor.

“I wanted to cry when I saw it,” she said. “My mom has all her favorite old movie stars in her house -- on commemorative plates, and on calendars, and she's got these framed magazine covers. But this one... this one is really special.”

Word spread quickly of the cookie, and followers began arriving in droves to see him.  The crowd of seekers forced the bakery to move him into his own case, near the crullers and the sticky buns.

"Richard Widmark was one of our finest actors, able to hide himself in different kinds of roles, be it wise guy, or cheap hood, or mysterious loner," said Stephen Santos, a longtime follower of Widmark's work, and first time patron of the bakery.  "And now, he is with us again."

“I had a lump in my breast," said one woman.  "And then yesterday, when I went home, it disappeared.  I don’t have it no more.”

The Morning Sun Bakery also has a fine assortment of danishes, croissants, and muffins, and guarantees a free coffee refill up to noon.

This nugget found by Jiff...all props to his watchful eye.

Since the show's premiere on December 19th, 2005, NBC's "Deal or No Deal" has developed into a ratings powerhouse and true event television on the order of such past network successes as "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire" and "The Weakest Link." The show challenges contestants to choose from a series of briefcases in hopes of knocking out low-dollar amounts and getting increasingly larger payout offer amounts from a "banker" who hopes to buy the contestant out of the game before said contestant can reach the end and find that he or she is in possession of a $1 million briefcase.

Industry professionals will tell you that the true drama of the show takes place between that moment when host Howie Mandel asks a model to open the case and the instant in which she cracks it open, revealing the amount hidden in the case.  The pregnant pause and its reaction on not only the contestant but the audience at home, has been of great interest to researchers at the Goldman Instititute in Newton, MA. Their research has led them to this one hypothesis: the entire show's impact on viewers can be traced to one single moment..that instant just before the model reveals the dollar amount in the briefcase. What's more, researchers found that the manner in which models open their briefcases has evolved along with the show, based on factors such as audience demographic, stress factors, and room temperature.

3rd Chair Trombone sat down with scientific researchers at the institute to discuss this phenomena, and are proud to publish their findings here today. What follows is raw scientific data based on countless hours of research.  The management of 3rd Chair Trombone urges readers to draw their own conclusions.

Progressive Stages of "Deal or No Deal" Briefcase Model Pre-Opening Reaction Schtick

Stage One: "Innocence"

1. Model cracks open case, looks inside, nods, then reveals $50.
2. Model cracks open case, looks inside, winks, then reveals $500.
3. Model cracks open case, looks inside, winces, then reveals $1 million.

Stage 2: "Deception"

1. Model cracks open case, looks inside, remarks “I’m really sorry”, then reveals $10.
2. Model cracks open case, looks inside, bites her lower lip in disapproval, then grins, revealing $1.
3. Model cracks open case, looks inside, smiles weakly before frowning and revealing $400,000.

Stage 3: "Confusion"

1. Model cracks open case, looks inside, appears sad, then grins, then angry, then confused, then pouty, then reveals $1,000,000.
2. Model cracks open case, looks inside, becomes disoriented for the space of three minutes, then opens the case, vomiting on placard inside that reads "$4,000."
3. Model cracks open case, looks inside, then picks up Howie's phone to the banker and calls her mother.

Stage 4: "Chaos"

1. Model opens case, then quickly shuts it before running out of studio with case, hotly pursued by NBC security.
2. Case opens on its own, flips on its side and chases model around the studio like a giant pair of mechanical novelty jaws.
3. Model rides into studio on a donkey, opens case, audience is blinded by cornea-melting lasers from within.
4. Model opens case, peeks inside, dances the Charleston; case morphs into a leopard and runs offstage; model morphs into Camaro and runs over family of three seated in the front row.
5. Model opens case, screams, produces coronet, plays spirited rendition of theme to "Simon and Simon," reveals $400,000.
6. Howie Mandel takes briefcase away from model, cold cocks her with the butt of the case, laughing uncontrollably as the audience watches uncomfortably.  Mandel finally comes to his senses before the commercial break, whispering, "Sweet Lord, what have I done?"
7. Model opens case, then closes it, announcing that she has something to say. The audience grows silent. You can hear a pin drop. She walks down with the briefcase to center studio where a spotlight finds her. After a long, painful pause, Howie touches her shoulder, nodding that it's okay to continue.  "This is something I've wanted to do for a long, long time," she says. Then she undoes her dress, revealing a flesh-colored body suit covered in illustrated muscles, organs and blood vessels. She proceeds to tap dance to the theme to Barney Miller. 
8. Model opens case, peeks inside, explodes; case flops open revealing freshly prepared lasagne, a side salad, glass of merlot, suicide caplets.
9. Model cracks open case, looks inside, emits long, thin stream of diarrhea, then reveals $500. Local marching band brought in to play for contestant breaks into "Louie Louie."

Stage 5: "Transcendance"

1. Model opens case, attains total self-actualization, atomizes into the universe where she will take her place on the spinning wheel of karma.
2. Model cracks open case, looks inside, mouths "It's beautiful...," then thousands of monarch butterflies emerge from case, covering the studio in God's majestic creation. Cameras fade to mahogany.  The ghost of Brandon Tartikoff floats in the wings, choking back tears, making a triumphant fist and mouthing the words, "We did it...we really did it."
3. Model opens case, you switch channel to "According to Jim."

     Jeden. 

You wanted it this way.  You really really did, dude.  But you're still welcome here at 3CT.  Seriously.  Make yourself at home.  And don't forget to try our world famous pancakes. 

You wanted it this way.  You really really did, dude.  But you're still welcome here at 3CT.  Seriously.  Make yourself at home.  And don't forget to try our world famous pancakes.   You wanted it this way.  You really really did, dude.  But you're still welcome here at 3CT.  Seriously.  Make yourself at home.  And don't forget to try our world famous pancakes.  
     Dva.

You wanted it this way.  You really really did, dude.  But you're still welcome here at 3CT.  Seriously.  Make yourself at home.  And don't forget to try our world famous pancakes.   You wanted it this way.  You really really did, dude.  But you're still welcome here at 3CT.  Seriously.  Make yourself at home.  And don't forget to try our world famous pancakes.   You wanted it this way.  You really really did, dude. 

     Tri.

Me? I enjoyed this.  Simple, catchy...a rhythmic slice into the life of our own BH. 

As of today, 3rd Chair Trombone is the world's number one Internet search engine destination for the phrase: "Remember the Tight Ones"  

Here's to you Tromboners.  We couldn't have done it without you. 

P.S. Mind the rollovers.

Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  Who cares?  We're 3rd Chair Trombone, and we're here to entertain you with some pictures, and maybe some words if we're lucky.  Stick around, you may learn something if you're not careful.

Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  Who cares?  We're 3rd Chair Trombone.Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  Who cares?  We're 3rd Chair Trombone.Yeppers. Serious.  Yes we're 3rd Chair Trombone

  Who would win if Jim Stick around, you may learn something if you're not careful. Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  Who cares?  We're 3rd Chair Trombone, and we're here to entertain you with some pictures, and maybe some words if we're lucky.  re 3rd Chair Trombone  Who Stick around, you may learn something if you're not careful. Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  Who cares?  Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  Who cares?  We're 3rd Chair Trombone, and we're here to entertain you with some pictures, and maybe some words if we're lucky.  Stick around, you may learn something if you're not careful. words if we're lucky.    Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?Who cares?  We're 3rd Chair Trombone, and we're here to entertain you with some pictures, and maybe some words if we're lucky.  Stick around, you may learn something if yore 3rd Chair Tromboneu're not careful. Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  Who cares?  We're 3rd Chair Trombone, and we're here to entertain you with some pictures, and maybe some words if we're lucky.  Stick around, you may learn something if you're not careful. and maybe some words if we're lucky.  Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  Who cares?  We're 3rd Chair Trombone, and we're here to entertain you with some pictures, and maybe some words if we're lucky.  Stick around, you may learn something if you're not careful. Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  with some pictures, and maybe some words if we're lucky.  Stick around, you may learn something if you're not careful. Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  Who cares?

This leap year Friday has been very good to me.  First, I had a stupendous morning constitution.  Then my '96 Honda passed its state-mandated smog check.  And now, thanks to the extra day, I can get my yearly Presidential Spotlight in just under the February wire.  In honor of my major procrastination, I'll choose Millard Fillmore, our thirteenth president, who is widely regarded as our absolute laziest.

MILLARD FILLMORE

Born in 1800 in a split-level suburban log cabin, Millard Fillmore [born Sydney Nussbaum] shared his bedroom with seventeen siblings until he was twelve, when his father let him move into the basement next to the washer.  There, he learned about himself with the aid of a forgotten stack of Frontier Women magazines.  One issue ["Girls of the War of 1812"] inspired his first political activism, namely the organizing of his father's cows and pigs into a union, and their subsequent strike over long hours, unsanitary troughs, and yearly, bodily exploitation at the county fair.  In the first of many career scandals, the animals fired him as their advocate when they discovered him spending his retainer at the Carl's Jr.

At fifteen, Fillmore lost both his legs in a combine accident.  In the four years it took for them to grow back, he learned six languages, mastered the ancient Chinese art of Jiǎgǔwén lettering -- with a real ox scapula -- and wrote numerous novels and political tracts under the pen name Voltaire.

Fillmore pursued a law education into his twenties and was admitted to the bar in 1823 with his winning essay "Sometimes You Want To Go Where Everybody Knows Your Name."  He married his law school sweetheart, Doris Kearns Goodwin, and spent the next ten years running a law practice from inside his bedroom, where he invented the popular journalistic phrase "below the fold."  When Goodwin ran off to become a steamship purser, Fillmore lost his troubles in a fevered race for the House of Representatives, but nearly lost his bid after too convincingly courting the gay vote.

A dozen years in the House made him many enemies, mainly for eating all the E.L. Fudges from the Congressional vending machine, yet he was able to parlay his considerable clout [some references, "gout"] into a successful power move into the Vice-Presidency, under Zachary Taylor.  While Vice-President, Fillmore led the Senate through the tumultuous debates over the Compromise of 1850, a bit of new law stipulating terms of ownership for slaves in the expanding west.  Fillmore and his supporters demanded zero-percent financing and a lease with option to buy, while opponents quibbled over trade in allowances.  The ensuing gun-firing fracas on the chamber floor did not end until seven men lay dead, including the President himself, who'd just stepped in to ask if anyone had seen his evening dicky.

Where Fillmore's formative public life was filled with often violent social upheaval, mostly surrounding the slavery issue, his Presidency was marked by stability and an almost transcendent peace.  Historians debate to this day whether it was the introduction of normalizing social policies into the national infrastructure, or the introduction o

3rd Chair Trombone: A Retrospective (Part Four) (TS)

Day four of our look back at memorable pieces from the 3rd Chair vault. This one comes to us from the late summer of '05, when a young (BH) was finding his voice on the blog. To date, he had put in a number of solid short form pieces, lists and real-life journal-style numbers, but had yet to really make today's entry his own.

You're invited to sit back, relax, and watch some good, old fashioned American blasphemy:
Things Paul Is Now Glad He Edited From His Letter To The Ephesians (BH)

3rd Chair Trombone: A Retrospective (Part Three) (TS)

We're up to our third installment of a look back at some of the posts you may have simply forgotten about, or rather never seen.

This piece, by yours truly, was inspired by years of experience writing for the healthcare industry while demonstrating a clear lack of in-depth understanding of the healthcare industry. It was subsequently submitted to McSweeneys, which in turn let the author know that it was a "promising conceit" but felt "underdeveloped to [them]," and to consider exploring "contemporary health care issues, i.e., co-pay, referrals, emergent v. emergency care" among other things.

The author then proceeded instead to indulge in an exclusive three-week marathon of crazy caption posts, setting a national blog record and winning the attention of automatic robots across the web.

Here now, once again is Welcome to United Confederate Health Plan (TS)

3rd Chair Trombone: A Retrospective (Part Two) (TS)

Day two of our look back at some of the forgotten classics from 3CT. Today's entry was actually created pre-3rd Chair in something we liked to call "Goodness Writers Group." This piece was a foreshadowing of the great BH's talent for creating pitch perfect recreations of virtually any genre. But I digress.

Here, for your reading pleasure is Let Go and Let Travis (BH)

3rd Chair Trombone: A Retrospective (Part One) (TS)

While the creators of 3CT are away on vacation--or whatever it is they do with their days--you're invited to share in an ongoing look back at some of the forgotten classics first appearing at this site.

We begin with a piece written back in late June of 2005. The site was still getting its legs underneath itself, and writer JD seemingly set the standard for future works when he penned the following.

Please now enjoy
Skyr: Icelandic Yogurt / The 3rd Chair Trombone Interview (JD)

Friday is for getting off our asses and writing some new material. (TS)

What's up? You're reading this and you're like, how am I reading invisible writing. Well don't worry. It's perfectly natural, when you have super powers. So sit back, kick up your loafers and indulge in your ability to read things other people can't.

Okay, so the newness has worn off, and you need to up the stakes. I can't blame you. After about three weeks with the ability to read invisible writing, I needed a pick me up. So I learned how to fly, and self-ignite, and press 100 tons. Sort of like the Hulk crossed with the Human Torch. It was an iffy proposition. Later, fools. I'm off to set some real heavy shit on fire, then lift it over my head. Then I'm flying to the Bahamas. Oh yeah.

Thursday is for bein' in outer space. (TS)

Wednesday is for Alexander Hamilton. (TS)

Tuesday is for dreamers. (TS)

Monday is for suckers. (TS)

Didja see this yet? (TS)

Brief travelogue of Bobby's southerly stomping grounds.

Happy Thursday. (TS)

Calling all those with a little time on their hands. (TS)

Dear friends of the Trombone,
You may remember that a while ago, I mentioned I was receiving regular texts and phone calls from a lovelorn Latino who insisted on believing I was the object of his affection. Seems I inherited the phone number belonging to his ex, and she (I believe it's a "she" at this point) never told him. Here's the original post to refresh your memory.
Many of you made valuable suggestions on how to fix the problem. But at the time, it seemed like it might just right itself. I weakened. I hesitated. I hoped the problem would go away.
Then a respected friend at work, highly amused by the situation, convinced me to enter into an elaborate scheme designed to mess with the hombre's head and heart, and hopefully throw him off the scent for good.
He got a fluent Spanish speaker to translate a message to the caller, one which I would text, acting as if I were once again the previous owner of the phone...it would be something to make him think that girlie girl was back in the picture, but that she was begging him to respect my privacy and leave me alone...instead, she would provide him an alternate number where he could finally call her and work things out.
The number happened to belong to another coworker of ours who was off on a romantic getaway weekend in San Diego at the time. Giddy, we hatched the plan and I texted the message off to my adversary. And then a funny thing happened. He didn't call back. Or text.
I started to think that maybe I had gotten through to him, and that maybe our poor friend was getting hit with more calls than he knew what to do with down in San Diego. But then things went south.
The plan, as amusing as it had seemed to me, began to backfire hard. I started getting impassioned texts and increased calls. Yes, friends. The plan only made things worse.
The texts that came in included such gems as:
"Cada dia te siento mejor y mas decidida" = "Every day I feel you better and more determined"
"Donde vienes amorsote" = "Where you come amorsote"
"Es Stephanie" = "Is this Stephanie?"
"Cuando hablavamos yo le decia que ya tenia que salir que hiciera lo que hice y me decia que el queria hacer mas de lo que yo habia logrando fue hace tres dias me llamo"
=
"When hablavamos I was saying to him that I had to go out already that it was doing what I did and was saying to myself that the queria to do more than I there was managing was three days ago my name is"
So...whatever. The texts faded away, but the calls kept coming. And I was sort of content to let them go to voicemail, where I would later delete the minute-long stretches of voiceless background ambience, feeling a bit guilty that I had tried to put one over on old Pepito.
But then the little bastard called me at 4:59 this morning. He hung up and then called back a minute later. I picked up on the second call and groggily answered so that he could know for sure that this was his last chance for mercy. For peace. He hung up and I texted him back a vitriolic message, then laid back down in bed, knowing that it was time to take a stand.
And that's where you come in. I invite you, friends, to take part in the first official scheme of this site.
Announcing The Great 2008 3CT Cell Phone Caper Thingie.
Based on David's brilliant suggestion from February, here's I'd like to do. We'll begin with a basic cease and desist text message that all of us participating will send to the offending phone number using one of two free anonymous web text sites.
We'll work on really pounding Pepito until he backs off and gets the message. And if he doesn't, we'll escalate the messaging.
Step one:
Navigate to either of these two sites:
Sweet ass text message site #1
or
Sweet ass text message site #2
The first site requires no mention of the Service Provider. For the second, I'm almost positive Pepito's Provider is Sprint, so go with that.
Step two:
Copy this message into the message text box:
Deje de llamar Tim y estos textos se pararán.
Step three:
Send that thing to the following number, coded oh-so-cleverly: THREE TWO 3, FIVE 9 ZERO, 52 THREE NINE.
Step four:
Drop a comment on this post to let me know how many texts you sent. The more, the better. The oftener, the awesomer.
Step five:
Pop open a cold brewsky, sit back, and watch what happens. Or, you know, sip on some Yerba Mate. Or chew on Dentine. Whatever. I'm easy.
This should be fun at the very least. It could be dangerous, at the very most. I'm hoping we'll inform his behavior and maybe learn something about ourselves along the way. Who's with me?

A 3CT Guide to Coping with Disaster (TS)

From man-made disasters to acts of God, disaster can strike anywhere, at any time, and without warning. Whether it be a chemical spill, hurricane or terrorist attack, knowing what to do during and after a major calamity can make all the difference in protecting you and the ones you love.

3rd Chair Trombone urges you to become informed about disaster preparedness. Here are some handy tips that could one day save your life:

• Disaster preparedness starts with the family! Take the time to develop a family plan for emergencies. A good starting point is your local video store. Rent movies such as Deep Impact, Volcano and the Poseidon Adventure, then spearhead a family brainstorming session to flesh out workable scenarios, including rising conflict and a killer reveal at the end of the 2nd Act.
• Be sure to put together an emergency kit consisting of a flashlight, portable radio, first aid kit, postage stamps, Peach Schnapps, double-sided tape, Pringles, love letters from the fourth grade, that one CD you play when you're really happy, free weights, flip flops, towel, swim trunks, sunscreen, baking sheet, vanilla extract, flour, two cups sugar, one egg, 16 ounce bag of Nestle Toll House Morsels, shotgun.
• If a power blackout occurs, feel your way around the house till you find the light switch.
• Unattended candles are often the cause of fires in the home, and nothing sets the mood or the living room ablaze like Glade's Angel Whispers or Refreshing Spa scented candles.
• Severe storms can frighten important members of your family: namely your pets! Be sure to shut your cat or dog in the hall closet at the first sign of rain.
• In the early stages of a flood, rising waters can reach dangerously high levels in a matter of minutes. Know the right way to tight roll your jeans ahead of time.
• In the event of a tornado, take cover in an abandoned movie theater. That way you can spend the day watching out-of-date prints till the winds die down. Try to find a theater that still has that one movie with that one guy.
• Contrary to popular opinion, landslides do not always travel downhill. Nor do they bend to the will of the people.
• It's never easy when you find yourself in the middle of a race war. Try to get on the good side of whatever ethnicity seems to be winning. Hint: those jokes you heard at the Shriner's convention are either going to make you friends or get you killed. Try testing the mood of the gathered mob with some roleplaying and free association exercises.
• It's everybody's responsibility to report suspected terrorist acts. At the airport and see suspicious behavior? Report it. In an online chatroom and overhear suspicious conversation? Report it. Dining at Chili's and think someone farted on your Chicken Tenders while you were in the men's room? Report it.
• Downed electrical wires pose a significant danger. If you encounter them while in your car, be sure to maintain a constant speed of at least 55 miles per hour while driving across them.
• Did a large meteor just land in your backyard? If so, approach with caution. A consistent greenish glow from the crater fragment indicates that you will probably develop superhuman powers. A consistent reddish glow indicates your neighborhood will soon be overrun by zombies. A brownish glow indicates that you will have diarrhea.
• Coastal residents are encouraged to "tsunami-proof" their homes with Scotchgard™ and Saran Wrap.
• If on hand during the explosive landing of a zeppelin or dirigible, you have successfully travelled back in time more than 70 years. Go straight to the New York Stock Exchange and buy a thousand shares of Google.

Yesterday's Oscar Winner...

is today's Soylent Green.

My last day...(TS)

It's my final day at the company I've worked for going on four years. Mixed feelings. Glad to be moving on to what lies ahead, but I'm afraid I'm a little stuck here.

I'm reminded of our Virginia days, years ago when we were living, the four of us guys, in a house on Liberty Bell Drive. It was just a few months till we'd be moving to LA and the house would be emptied and go to someone else, but we somehow ran afoul of the neighbors, being that our lawnmower was broken and the grass in the front yard was getting pretty high.

After many complaints, it seemed we would have to part with money to buy another lawnmower that we'd only need for another three months or so. A shame, I thought, until I drove by a garage sale one day and saw a little red lawnmower with a "for sale" sign. I stopped and inquired. The man brightened and proceeded to spend half an hour telling me about this mower. He had owned it for about 20 years, and in the process had babied it like a sportscar, dutifully repairing and servicing it, jury-rigging workaround fixes when parts went awry, etc.

He proudly showed me several points to watch, intakes, a throttle he had rebuilt from scratch, adjustments he had painstakingly made to the wheel settings. And then I wrote him a check for $30 and put the lawnmower in my trunk, promising to honor his legacy as best I could, but knowing that we'd probably throw the thing out when we moved.

Today, I feel like that guy, handing over a worn but reliable piece of machinery, something that I put together with my own two hands, sweated over, worried over, lost peace over; and yet I feel like it's just going to be thrown away in a few months. And that's all right., I guess.

After all, I just put in astroturf. But still.

Widmark Seen In Cookie (BH)

SANTA FE - The image of recently deceased actor Richard Widmark, 93, has appeared in a cookie.  Employee Alma Avalos of the Morning Sun Bakery spotted the beatific formation in her first morning batch of chocolate chip cookies, recognizing immediately the chiseled visage of the beloved character actor.

“I wanted to cry when I saw it,” she said. “My mom has all her favorite old movie stars in her house -- on commemorative plates, and on calendars, and she's got these framed magazine covers. But this one... this one is really special.”

Word spread quickly of the cookie, and followers began arriving in droves to see him.  The crowd of seekers forced the bakery to move him into his own case, near the crullers and the sticky buns.

"Richard Widmark was one of our finest actors, able to hide himself in different kinds of roles, be it wise guy, or cheap hood, or mysterious loner," said Stephen Santos, a longtime follower of Widmark's work, and first time patron of the bakery.  "And now, he is with us again."

“I had a lump in my breast," said one woman.  "And then yesterday, when I went home, it disappeared.  I don’t have it no more.”

The Morning Sun Bakery also has a fine assortment of danishes, croissants, and muffins, and guarantees a free coffee refill up to noon.

Get your tense on for Thursday (TS)

This nugget found by Jiff...all props to his watchful eye.

3CT Takes a Closer Look at: Deal or No Deal (TS)

Since the show's premiere on December 19th, 2005, NBC's "Deal or No Deal" has developed into a ratings powerhouse and true event television on the order of such past network successes as "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire" and "The Weakest Link." The show challenges contestants to choose from a series of briefcases in hopes of knocking out low-dollar amounts and getting increasingly larger payout offer amounts from a "banker" who hopes to buy the contestant out of the game before said contestant can reach the end and find that he or she is in possession of a $1 million briefcase.

Industry professionals will tell you that the true drama of the show takes place between that moment when host Howie Mandel asks a model to open the case and the instant in which she cracks it open, revealing the amount hidden in the case.  The pregnant pause and its reaction on not only the contestant but the audience at home, has been of great interest to researchers at the Goldman Instititute in Newton, MA. Their research has led them to this one hypothesis: the entire show's impact on viewers can be traced to one single moment..that instant just before the model reveals the dollar amount in the briefcase. What's more, researchers found that the manner in which models open their briefcases has evolved along with the show, based on factors such as audience demographic, stress factors, and room temperature.

3rd Chair Trombone sat down with scientific researchers at the institute to discuss this phenomena, and are proud to publish their findings here today. What follows is raw scientific data based on countless hours of research.  The management of 3rd Chair Trombone urges readers to draw their own conclusions.

Progressive Stages of "Deal or No Deal" Briefcase Model Pre-Opening Reaction Schtick

Stage One: "Innocence"

1. Model cracks open case, looks inside, nods, then reveals $50.
2. Model cracks open case, looks inside, winks, then reveals $500.
3. Model cracks open case, looks inside, winces, then reveals $1 million.

Stage 2: "Deception"

1. Model cracks open case, looks inside, remarks “I’m really sorry”, then reveals $10.
2. Model cracks open case, looks inside, bites her lower lip in disapproval, then grins, revealing $1.
3. Model cracks open case, looks inside, smiles weakly before frowning and revealing $400,000.

Stage 3: "Confusion"

1. Model cracks open case, looks inside, appears sad, then grins, then angry, then confused, then pouty, then reveals $1,000,000.
2. Model cracks open case, looks inside, becomes disoriented for the space of three minutes, then opens the case, vomiting on placard inside that reads "$4,000."
3. Model cracks open case, looks inside, then picks up Howie's phone to the banker and calls her mother.

Stage 4: "Chaos"

1. Model opens case, then quickly shuts it before running out of studio with case, hotly pursued by NBC security.
2. Case opens on its own, flips on its side and chases model around the studio like a giant pair of mechanical novelty jaws.
3. Model rides into studio on a donkey, opens case, audience is blinded by cornea-melting lasers from within.
4. Model opens case, peeks inside, dances the Charleston; case morphs into a leopard and runs offstage; model morphs into Camaro and runs over family of three seated in the front row.
5. Model opens case, screams, produces coronet, plays spirited rendition of theme to "Simon and Simon," reveals $400,000.
6. Howie Mandel takes briefcase away from model, cold cocks her with the butt of the case, laughing uncontrollably as the audience watches uncomfortably.  Mandel finally comes to his senses before the commercial break, whispering, "Sweet Lord, what have I done?"
7. Model opens case, then closes it, announcing that she has something to say. The audience grows silent. You can hear a pin drop. She walks down with the briefcase to center studio where a spotlight finds her. After a long, painful pause, Howie touches her shoulder, nodding that it's okay to continue.  "This is something I've wanted to do for a long, long time," she says. Then she undoes her dress, revealing a flesh-colored body suit covered in illustrated muscles, organs and blood vessels. She proceeds to tap dance to the theme to Barney Miller. 
8. Model opens case, peeks inside, explodes; case flops open revealing freshly prepared lasagne, a side salad, glass of merlot, suicide caplets.
9. Model cracks open case, looks inside, emits long, thin stream of diarrhea, then reveals $500. Local marching band brought in to play for contestant breaks into "Louie Louie."

Stage 5: "Transcendance"

1. Model opens case, attains total self-actualization, atomizes into the universe where she will take her place on the spinning wheel of karma.
2. Model cracks open case, looks inside, mouths "It's beautiful...," then thousands of monarch butterflies emerge from case, covering the studio in God's majestic creation. Cameras fade to mahogany.  The ghost of Brandon Tartikoff floats in the wings, choking back tears, making a triumphant fist and mouthing the words, "We did it...we really did it."
3. Model opens case, you switch channel to "According to Jim."

Okay...quit clowning and let's take this picture. Seriously...eyes up here? (TS)

Friday Filthy Clipart Caption Contest (TS)

     Jeden. 

You wanted it this way.  You really really did, dude.  But you're still welcome here at 3CT.  Seriously.  Make yourself at home.  And don't forget to try our world famous pancakes. 

You wanted it this way.  You really really did, dude.  But you're still welcome here at 3CT.  Seriously.  Make yourself at home.  And don't forget to try our world famous pancakes.   You wanted it this way.  You really really did, dude.  But you're still welcome here at 3CT.  Seriously.  Make yourself at home.  And don't forget to try our world famous pancakes.  
     Dva.

You wanted it this way.  You really really did, dude.  But you're still welcome here at 3CT.  Seriously.  Make yourself at home.  And don't forget to try our world famous pancakes.   You wanted it this way.  You really really did, dude.  But you're still welcome here at 3CT.  Seriously.  Make yourself at home.  And don't forget to try our world famous pancakes.   You wanted it this way.  You really really did, dude. 

     Tri.

Domesticity + Rhythm = BH (TS)

Me? I enjoyed this.  Simple, catchy...a rhythmic slice into the life of our own BH. 

Success! (TS)

As of today, 3rd Chair Trombone is the world's number one Internet search engine destination for the phrase: "Remember the Tight Ones"  

Here's to you Tromboners.  We couldn't have done it without you. 

Thanks for nothing (TS)

P.S. Mind the rollovers.

Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  Who cares?  We're 3rd Chair Trombone, and we're here to entertain you with some pictures, and maybe some words if we're lucky.  Stick around, you may learn something if you're not careful.

Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  Who cares?  We're 3rd Chair Trombone.Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  Who cares?  We're 3rd Chair Trombone.Yeppers. Serious.  Yes we're 3rd Chair Trombone

  Who would win if Jim Stick around, you may learn something if you're not careful. Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  Who cares?  We're 3rd Chair Trombone, and we're here to entertain you with some pictures, and maybe some words if we're lucky.  re 3rd Chair Trombone  Who Stick around, you may learn something if you're not careful. Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  Who cares?  Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  Who cares?  We're 3rd Chair Trombone, and we're here to entertain you with some pictures, and maybe some words if we're lucky.  Stick around, you may learn something if you're not careful. words if we're lucky.    Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?Who cares?  We're 3rd Chair Trombone, and we're here to entertain you with some pictures, and maybe some words if we're lucky.  Stick around, you may learn something if yore 3rd Chair Tromboneu're not careful. Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  Who cares?  We're 3rd Chair Trombone, and we're here to entertain you with some pictures, and maybe some words if we're lucky.  Stick around, you may learn something if you're not careful. and maybe some words if we're lucky.  Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  Who cares?  We're 3rd Chair Trombone, and we're here to entertain you with some pictures, and maybe some words if we're lucky.  Stick around, you may learn something if you're not careful. Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  with some pictures, and maybe some words if we're lucky.  Stick around, you may learn something if you're not careful. Who would win if Jim Jarmusch arm wrestled Steve Buscemi?  Who cares?

Presidential Spotlight '08 (BH)

This leap year Friday has been very good to me.  First, I had a stupendous morning constitution.  Then my '96 Honda passed its state-mandated smog check.  And now, thanks to the extra day, I can get my yearly Presidential Spotlight in just under the February wire.  In honor of my major procrastination, I'll choose Millard Fillmore, our thirteenth president, who is widely regarded as our absolute laziest.

MILLARD FILLMORE

Born in 1800 in a split-level suburban log cabin, Millard Fillmore [born Sydney Nussbaum] shared his bedroom with seventeen siblings until he was twelve, when his father let him move into the basement next to the washer.  There, he learned about himself with the aid of a forgotten stack of Frontier Women magazines.  One issue ["Girls of the War of 1812"] inspired his first political activism, namely the organizing of his father's cows and pigs into a union, and their subsequent strike over long hours, unsanitary troughs, and yearly, bodily exploitation at the county fair.  In the first of many career scandals, the animals fired him as their advocate when they discovered him spending his retainer at the Carl's Jr.

At fifteen, Fillmore lost both his legs in a combine accident.  In the four years it took for them to grow back, he learned six languages, mastered the ancient Chinese art of Jiǎgǔwén lettering -- with a real ox scapula -- and wrote numerous novels and political tracts under the pen name Voltaire.

Fillmore pursued a law education into his twenties and was admitted to the bar in 1823 with his winning essay "Sometimes You Want To Go Where Everybody Knows Your Name."  He married his law school sweetheart, Doris Kearns Goodwin, and spent the next ten years running a law practice from inside his bedroom, where he invented the popular journalistic phrase "below the fold."  When Goodwin ran off to become a steamship purser, Fillmore lost his troubles in a fevered race for the House of Representatives, but nearly lost his bid after too convincingly courting the gay vote.

A dozen years in the House made him many enemies, mainly for eating all the E.L. Fudges from the Congressional vending machine, yet he was able to parlay his considerable clout [some references, "gout"] into a successful power move into the Vice-Presidency, under Zachary Taylor.  While Vice-President, Fillmore led the Senate through the tumultuous debates over the Compromise of 1850, a bit of new law stipulating terms of ownership for slaves in the expanding west.  Fillmore and his supporters demanded zero-percent financing and a lease with option to buy, while opponents quibbled over trade in allowances.  The ensuing gun-firing fracas on the chamber floor did not end until seven men lay dead, including the President himself, who'd just stepped in to ask if anyone had seen his evening dicky.

Where Fillmore's formative public life was filled with often violent social upheaval, mostly surrounding the slavery issue, his Presidency was marked by stability and an almost transcendent peace.  Historians debate to this day whether it was the introduction of normalizing social policies into the national infrastructure, or the introduction o