My sincerest apologies to all our fans for my complete brain fart yesterday. For some reason, I thought we should name our newest feature “Holy Shit.” That is an obvious mistake as anyone who follows the Monkey, or the String, knows that the appropriate title should be “Did You Guys See That?” in honor of Gnoobs uncanny ability to pull an improbable golf shot out of his nether regions, which usually results in his breaking the spirit of his opponents. After all, that’s where Monkey With a Gun originated. Giving Gnoobs a hybrid is like giving a monkey a gun. Usually bad shit happens, but every once in a while, something remarkable happens. It’s those moments that prompt the “Did You Guys See That?”
So I ran across this video the other day and it’s too good not to share. As you know, we here at the Monkey are all about over sharing. That’s why I created a new recurring feature entitled “Holy Shit.” I think that’s pretty self-explanatory, so check this nut job (sorry Mongo) out:
When I left Bloomington today I took a wrong turn and I just kept going. Ended up in Louisville, where there is apparently a Springsteen concert tonight. Might as well stick around and see what’s up. And since I’m by myself, might as well blog it. Continue reading →
It’s time for another installment in our award winning series (relic lover Angry says it’s “awesome” so that’s good enough for me) Wall Posters. Today we celebrate the 50th birthday of Illinois native, Cindy Crawford.
It was the mole right? You can admit it fellas. That’s what you all focused on wasn’t it? Well, I’m happy to report that she still has it – – And I’m not just talking about the mole!
I think that most of you know that we here at the Monkey are big fans of Beer. I’m pretty sure that AB/InBev is about to award IJ a lifetime achievement medal to go along with his Hall of Fame induction in 1998 with Mongo about to receive his own HOF induction any day now. Oops, stand by, the ADHD just kicked in and I’m going to go on a little beer tangent before I get back to fooking cucumber beer, so grab a frosty one and buckle up. Continue reading →
Whenever the String starts planning a trip to Vegas, golf invariably enters the discussion. It usually gets dismissed pretty quickly because, as IJ is want to say, “You can’t serve two masters.” And when it comes to Vegas and IJ, the master serving a steady stream of buds while allowing him to preach his unique brand of wisdom to four or five other people at the Blackjack table 18 hours at a stretch is pretty damn persuasive. Continue reading →
Welcome back to our award winning new feature that I invented this week that used to be called “Lost Tracks” and had to be renamed “Blonde Tracks” because all of the lost tracks were about blondes. I came up with this feature to get us through the worst time of the year, that time when post-NFL depression sets in and there are no sports to watch that don’t totally suck. The time of the year when the temperature rarely gets above negative 40 degrees on either the Fahrenheit or Celsius scale, which is of course the same at negative 40 degrees. I could lick a frozen flag pole and you could stand next to me with a pot of warm water offering to pour it on my tongue if I named a worse time of year, but I couldn’t do it because there isn’t a worse time of year and because you can’t really talk with your tongue frozen to a flag pole. Continue reading →