Brad is... Back

Behold the latest installment of Brad is...:

Brad is being so protective.

When chocolate and bananas are involved, of course I'm protective. If your brand-new sportscar is involved, then I'm a bit more lackadasical.

Brad Is Dead –

No, I'm not.

Brad is well-known to regulars in the skinning and customization community.

This piece gives me the SHIVERS.

What B.R.A.D. Is Doing!

Bringing Ripe Aardvarks Doughnuts

Brad is much smarter than Weitzman and he did see this sixteen years ago.

Weitzman is Yorkshire Pudding's real name.

Brad is why I believe in weblogs

Aw, shucks.

Either Brad is VERY desperate or he has gone completely bonkers

Bonkers. Definitely bonkers.


Brad is a gentleman

No, I'm not. I'm a gorilla.

Brad is supported by the best cheering section in the world

Note sidebar.

Brad is coming in a newsstand near you, once the Art Issue of 'Vanity Fair' comes out.

You won't want to miss it. I bare my hairy chest for the whole world to admire.

Someone wrote Brad is a character actor stuck in a leading man's body.

True.

Brad is AFK because he plays games too much

I've been AFK because I've been uninspired. Also, Ulric now has a girlfriend and we don't get to hang out as much as we used to.

The Great Gorilla Suit Day Has Arrived!

Happy International Gorilla Suit Day! As promised, I shall post a photo of me on the one day of the year that I wear a human suit:



Thank you very much.

National Gorilla Suit Day: January 31st

Get ready for National Gorilla Suit Day. For those who reside outside of the USA, it's International Gorilla Suit Day. This is a convenient measure for my Canadian, Mexican and overseas readers, of whom there are plenty. January 31st is the one day of the year when I wear the human suit I've had hanging up in the closet. Stay tuned for photos.

On My Way

I left Japan a few days ago and jaunted down to Indonesia before heading over to Hawai'i. Now I think I may skedaddle from Hawai'i as well because of the tsunami warning. Honestly, there is no safe place anywhere. I wish I were in hibernation around now.

Greetings from Japan!

Finally, all the Pocky a gorilla could want... for the next half-hour.


I'm a sushi sous-chef. (Okay, so I sweep the floors.)

Au Revoir

This is probably the last post for the Brad the Gorilla blog. For awhile now, I've tried to find new angles for my regular schitck. I've gone to art school, formed a band, was hired and fired as a chef for a disreputable inn, won fourth place in the Elvis Invitationals, impersonated Hitman J, spouted off Latin aphorisms, and tormented Yorkshire Pudding. I made friends with Lady K and Friday's Web through an earlier incarnation of Nonny. As fellow blogging simians, it was only a matter of moments before Monkey and I met. Of course, without my Landlady, Landlord and Ulric, I would have been nothing but...

Who am I kidding? I'm BRAD THE GORILLA. Blog or no blog, I will always be a 450 lb gorilla with a temper. I can't believe I got all introspective for a moment. Bah!

If you leave comments, I will still receive and read them. I will continue to read your blogs and comment when I can. In the meantime, I'm taking the time to travel throughout the world. Keep an eye out for me-- I may show up in your hometowns. If I do, I fully expect multicourse dinners complete with cigars and chocolate-covered bananas.

Au revoir.

Brad-O-Meter

The intern of Totally Choice reviewed me today. I don't know how this intern found my Vlad the Gorilla, my second cousin, but suffice to say, the reason why my second cousin is so incomprehensible is because he ate a large quantity of hallucinogenic starfruit during his overseas tour of duty, and has had to work it out of his system ever since. The intern posted a drawing of Vlad:



I hate to admit it, but Vlad's ikeness is uncanny. The intern gets a point for acceptable sketching. However, the intern writes, "Google, Time Magazine, and Brad would get a Totally Bogus for this blatant act of tyranny, if it weren’t for the fact that Brad got me to Google the word encomium. For that, Brad the Gorilla officially receives a 2 on the scale of Choiceness." My response: you had to look up encomium? What about all of the other Latin words on my blog? You didn't look those up as well? For your appalling lack of scholarship, the Totally Choice blog post recieves a "1" on the Brad-O-Meter. However, since I just made up the Brad-O-Meter, I should give credit where credit is due. Totally Choice recieves 1.5 on the Brad-O-Meter.

Now, to find a Brad-O-Meter....

Person of the Year

I couldn't have done it without you, my fans.

How Brad got permanently banned from Antarctica

Here are the details that I gathered from Brad, among his whimperings and requests to be consoled with whiskey:

While Brad was helping Shad record observations about penguins and other wildlife in the great tundra of the south, Brad started to brainstorm new ideas. Apparently, he hadn't learned his lesson from past misadventures. Brad noticed that the penguins, algae, and other wildlife were standing idle much of the time, doing nothing productive. Brad began to develop a notion that he could do something to improve their condition of living. He began to see a link between their idleness and the need for Bradley Enterprises to expand. What if Bradley Enterprises got involved in the Christmas present delivering business? No one was competing with Santa Claus at the moment. This would be an optimal time for a new company to enter the industry.

While Shad and the other scientists were asleep, Brad spent the next several days rounding up penguins and other able-bodied wildlife, and put them to work constructing a factory in the snow. Shad became irritated the Brad was dozing off during the daytime instead of working, but he did not suspect anything out of the ordinary.

Somehow, Brad managed to acquire enough presents to give to children in various parts of the world. But he still needed a vehicle to transport the presents. How about a helicopter? That would be the right vehicle to deliver presents in, and it would be much more fun that a sleigh. He borrowed a helicopter from a nice patrolman, while the patrolman was asleep. He was going to tell the patrolman when he got around to it. Brad got the helicopter part way into the air before he realized that he did not know how to drive a helicopter. While he was studying the operator's manual, the helicopter crashed. He figured that it must have been something wrong with the helicopter, so the patrolman wouldn't miss it anyway. Brad went with this notion as he tried and crashed and exploded several more helicopters. He knew that the patrolmen would be thrilled and impressed that he was left uninjured.

Finally, he found a helicopter that actually worked the way it was supposed to and didn't crash. He swooped down and grabbed the bag of presents, with the help of the penguins. He lost a landing rail in the process, but that wasn't a big deal.

As part of his business strategy, Brad delivered Christmas presents on December 1st. "People will be impressed that I'm more timely than Santa Claus", he thought.
He went to the first house. He looked into the chimney and realized that he didn't want to get his fur dirty. So he swung down with an arm full of presents and kicked down the wall to the living room. "They won't mind when they see the wonderful presents that I've delivered them". He set the presents down by the Christmas tree, and left the invoice for the fairly-priced items that he delivered.

He went from house to house across the nations. Some people were awake and gave loud, vehement shouts of joy as he surprised them with his grand entry and the low prices at which they were receiving their presents. He was a bit disappointed that no one offered him hot chocolate or cookies. Cheapskates.

After a hard day's work, he returned to Antarctica, surprised to find a group of angry scientists and government officials awaiting him...

-Ulric

Gone Bust

Here is the reason I haven't posted in awhile: I got kicked out of Antarctica. All the governments of the world that have stakes in Antarctica have signed a persona non grata bill to keep me from ever again setting foot on the ice-continent. Shad did what he could to grant me amnesty, but the best he could do was get me provisional status for visiting New Zealand. If it weren't for Peter Jackson, I wouldn't even have that privilege.

The events leading up to my expulsion are humiliating. I've spent the last week sleeping on my Landlord's couch, refusing to get up except to eat the chocolate zucchini bread that Lady K. so kindly brought me and the homemade whiskey Friday overnighted to me. Nonny said she tried to order my favorite cigars for me, but they got tied up in customs. Pudding? Where are you in my time of woe? I know we are mortal enemies, but even Saracen sent oranges to Richard the Lion Heart when he heard that the king of England was a trifle sniffly.

First Aid

Here I am in Antarctica. Ho Ho! The broadband is faster here than in Seattle! Shad is benefiting greatly from my assistance, but I've already gotten in trouble with the boss. It turns out that my first aid certification is not up to date. They made me take elementary first aid with the new recruits at the base. I showed them, though. The instructor said my tourniquet was the best he'd ever seen. "But Brad, this is a choking victim!" It just goes to show you, some people are never satisfied. Tomorrow I'll tell you about how I made baked eel for the commander. They didn't have any eel in the commissary, so I had to improvise.

Springtime in Antarctica

Shad the Gorilla has invited the family out to Antarctica for the rest of the summer. I'll try to post from McMurdo Station, but in the meantime, I've got to pack. I'll still receive email notifications with comments, so even though I may be offline a lot, I have not disappeared from the blogosphere. I'll work on answering all of your pressing concerns and questions when I return. Au revoir!

Advice to my Readers

My inbox is bare. No one this week sent in a request for my advice. If you, dear readers, are too encumbered with the burdens of your daily lives to write to the wisest gorilla you know, I will take it upon myself to write the letters for you. Lady K and Smoochypants have already written in. Here are some new letters:

1) Dear Brad,
What do I have to do for you to forgive my past impudence toward your great personage? How do I adequately humble myself before the greatness that is Brad the Gorilla? Why, oh why, did I not realise sooner that you are the ruler of the blogosphere and I am a mere peon? Should I send you a case of Henderson's Relish?
--Yorkshire Pudding

Dear Mr Pudding,
The case of Henderson's Relish is a good start. Don't beat yourself up too badly with harsh words. A few tongue-lashings will do. I will consider your humble utterances of remorse and get back to you on the matter.
Your friend,
Brad

2) Dear Brad,
I'm addicted to video games and television shows! I can't seem to stop playing games and watching tv. What should I do to combat my addiction? Take up macrame? Learn to play the ukelele? Help! I am lost without you.
--Nonny

Dear Nonny,
I'm sure your devotion to video games is a healthy one. Don't worry about it. However, if you need help regarding your gluttony of television shows, I will be happy to throw your television out the window. I love doing that! You have no idea how many hotels have banned me for life as a result.
Your friend,
Brad

3)Dear Brad,
I have a shameful secret: I still play with paperdolls. I'm worried my kids will find out. Help!
Friday
P.S. Don't print my name.

Dear Friday,
Your secret is safe with me. I wouldn't sweat it with the paperdolls. If your kids show up while you're playing with them, you can always say that you're working on current fashion designs.
Your friend,
Brad

Why people send spam a lot

Ms Smoochypants writes:


Dear Brad,
Why do people send spam? I mean really. Who benefits from them?
Your Fluffydoodle

Do you remember the story of Prometheus and how he stole fire from the Greek gods in order for humans to be able to char and eat the flesh of the animals they hunted? Remember how Zeus threw a tantrum and chained Prometheus to a rock, with an eagle descending upon Prometheus each day to eat his liver? (Uncooked, I might add.)



The story of why people send spam has uncanny similarities. In the beginning, the gods were jealous of people's abilities to write soaring verse, scathing prose, and witty asides. All they could do was to inspire the people to write verse/prose/asides in their honor. In time, the people came to ignore the gods and lo, they discovered ways to send their verse/prose/asides at speeds that made Hermes's head spin like a whirling dervish. That was the advent of email. In rage and revenge, some of the gods decided that they would take over this "email" phenomenon. Alas, their meanderings turned into gobblety-gook along these lines:

the tail!" added jack pumpkinhead. could only speak a little pigeon english; so she must be kind to the poordressing room after a prolonged prink. guessing the thing of all others that he wanted to do. "but this copper man," continued dorothy, looking with patience and care. sometimes her family were invited in to help eat to a thread, and nice little bars across the end so i can't tear them when


Unfortunately, some humans got wind of these utterances from the gods, and misguided fools that they were, strove to emulate these celestial beings. Alas, that is how spam came to be, and until people learn to sort their verse/prose/asides from their gobblety-gook, we shall have spam ever more.

My advice to you in this matter would be to do your part to educate your fellow human beings as to the true nature of the Greek gods, and warn them away from emulating such undesirable verbiage.

Your friend,
Brad

P.S. In relation to the potted-meat product, here are some photos of the Seventh Annual SPAM Sculpture Contest.

Why Mondays are Rough

Dear Brad,
Why are Mondays always so rough? Why do the weeks seem so long and the weekends not long enough? Why are there not enough hours in the day?
Sincerely,
Lady K

Dear Lady K,

Long ago, when the world began, the days of the week were as demigods. On an intellectual level, these demigods understood that there must be order of precedence so that there might be harmony and balance in the known universe. However, soon after the order of precedence was set (they drew comets, and the demigod with the shortest comet tail got to choose first, penultimate shortest comet tail got to choose next, etc.), there was fighting and chaos among three of the demigods. Saturday, Sunday and Monday each vied to be the first day of the week. After many bloody noses and broken eye-balls, Saturday and Sunday formed an alliance whereby Sunday would be first and Saturday last, yet as the last shall be first, so should Saturday also have an esteemed place of honor in the order of precedence. Monday, a small but wirey demigod, protested against this alliance, and in retaliation, Saturday and Sunday totally pummelled Monday. To this day (a Monday, in fact!), Monday has sabotaged the hedonism and high-living of Saturday and Sunday (called "the week-end" in honor of Saturday, as part of the agreement). Thus, much of humanity has had to suffer the fallout of this ancient quarrel. The French, Germans and Italians have escaped this fate by making Monday the first day of the week on their calendars, and while their Mondays are just delightful, the weekend demigods have demonstrated their wrath by making sure the children of the French, Germans, and Italians have to go to school on Saturdays.

Your other questions are harder to answer, but not impossible. Weeks are so long and the weekends are not long enough have something to do with the space-time continuum and wormhole technology. I know this is scant comfort for you in these difficult times, but at least you now know it's not your overdriven imagination, but actual quantum physics at work! However, the reason why there are not enough hours in a day is purely the fault of Caesar Otobrio IV, who traded in two of the hours of the day in exchange for godhood and a powerful guitar riff.

Your friend,
Brad the Gorilla

Ask Brad

I'm starting up my advice column again. Send all queries for my advice to my email (if you want to be anonymous) or post queries in the comments section. Here's what I've got so far from the email:

Dear Brad the Gorilla,

Relationship advise! Top Online Dating Sites Rated Free Ads. [I want to] Learn more. Please visit.
--Relationship Advise

Dear RA:

If you want to be in a successful relationship, you will first need to learn to communicate properly. Take a couple of grammar and writing courses. Read a few books. Whatever you do, be advised that Spell Check is no substitute for a clear understanding of the language you allegedly speak.

Your friend,
Brad

Dear Brad the Gorilla,

Heya wats up?

I was just going to let you know of a new way to make some extra bucks here and there. Works pretty well to, [sic] They send you a check or paypal payment every month for all the offers you complete. I make about 400 dollars on a month to month basis myself without much work, pretty much just promoting. But you can still make around $30 on a month to month basis by doing the free online offers yourself.
I would join if I were you and check it out.
--Alissa

Dear Alissa,

Look here, buddy, I'm the one giving advice, not you. I have to wonder what sorts of sordid services you are "promoting." My advice to you is to find yourself a proper job and leave the lollygagging to the gorillas. We benefit greatly from lying around in the rainforest and picking nits off of each other. Is that what you really want to do with your life? I thought not. Now, get out of here and learn how to make a proper caffe latte.

Your friend,
Brad

Hey Brad.taron!!

When was the last time you were able to discover a High Profile
Hollwyood production company on the ground floor?
--MPRG.PK

Dear MPRG.PK,

The last time I discovered a High Profile Hollywood production company on the ground floor was around this time last year, when Peter Jackson was putting the finishing touches on "King Kong." When was the last time you proof-read your emails? I recommend in the future that you make a practice of doing so.

Your friend,
Brad

Dear Beloved,

How are you together with your family and work? I hope all is well with you and your family. I am Mrs. Katherine Jambo from Sudan, presently staying in Dakar, Senegal. I have been working as a human rights activist and a humanitarian coordinator for 15 years before i became sick and very unwell to continue the work that i started with my husband. I`m married to Mr Naboth Jambo, We were married for 32 years with one Son, John. My husband died after a brief illness and before his death, we had been working together in humanitarian agencies in Southern Sudan helping the war-displaced.

[BLAH BLAH BLAH]

I do not have any body left as i was an orphane and has been struggling with my late husbad for survival in life. I will want you to help me in transferring this money in the bank into your care and making an investment on behalf of my son. I will also want you to help my son in migrating to meet you where he will continue his education until he is old enough to take care of himself. I am willing to pay you 20% of the total money for your services and i will sign a comprehensive agreement with you on the management of any investment that you will make and the percentage of the profits that will come to you as the funds manager. Please do not turn me down as i am scared about the future of my only son.

Please assure me that you will assit me to secure his future as i know that i do not have much time left in the world and i will not want him to fall into very wrong hands.

I await your very urgent response.
Sincerely,
--Katherine.

Dear Katherine,
Your plight moves me. Unfortunately, I will not be able to help you without the use of my very own helicopter. If you can arrange for a properly working, brand-new (shiny) helicopter to be delivered to one Brad the Gorilla in Seattle, Washington, I'm sure I'll be able to fly to your aid. In the meantime, here is some advice for you:

*The "i" should always be capitalized when referring to oneself in the first person, not just when one feels like it.

*Twenty percent of the money is not enough. You should offer 85%. Send it to me in gold bouillon. I don't trust the banks these days.

Your friend,
Brad
P.S. "Beloved?" Ugh! Too smoochy by far.

OK in the shop

Back by overwhelming popular demand, here is the link to The Brad Shop. All proceeds go toward the purchase of a helicopter for Bradley Enterprises.

Since Spreadshirt discontinued their toddler sizes (confound them), Monkey has had to live bereft of Bradapparel. Now, Monkey need fret no more: there is a new item in the shop just for him (and everyone else who buys it). Don't think of it as a bib, think of it as a cape for a superhero. Happy Halloween!

My life as it is now

This photo is humiliating. I am a 452 lb gorilla, and yet the Landlord's daughter, has the audacity to coerce me into dancing with her. I'm not Philomena, who is so graceful that she appears light as a bubble and delicate as a dragonfly. The whole time, I was worried about accidentally stepping on the Landlord's daughter's toes and crushing them. Egads! The girl knows no fear. I suspect I'm growing soft-hearted in my middle age, and must figure out a way to maintain surly gruffness when faced with toddler persistence.

Tee-shirt sales to benefit the acquisition of the Bradley Enterprises helicopter have slowed considerably. It's too bad, because a Brad the Gorilla tee-shirt enhances any outfit, casual or business. Behold:



This is a photo of my Landlord and his daughter. My Landlord is wearing a Brad the Gorilla tee-shirt. It lends him an air of gravitas. By the way, I don't know where the Landlady was when I took this photo, but I suspect she was swilling the freshly-pressed spiked cider before passing out in the pumpkin patch.

"Brad is..." so famous

Whenever I worry about my fame potentially fading, all I have to do is go to the internet to rediscover how famous I really am. When I type in "Brad is..." I find:

Brad is a freelance writer, investigative citizen journalist/blogger.

True! It was the first hit, too.

She does not yet fully realize how inadequate Brad is going to be as any kind of long-term prospect.

True! No one will ever entice or trick me into a long-term relationship, not even Lady K.

Kathy begins to suspect that Brad is having an affair with Sarah, and so she arranges a dinner party for the two couples.

False! I am having an affair with no one. Who's Sarah? I'll bet Nonny would know. Nonny, who's Sarah?

I know Brad is hurt that Denise is engaged, but doesn't he realize he just gave Alan a challenge?

False! I'm fine with Denise's engagement. Alan had better watch out, though.

Now Brad is set to star as the investigative journalist played in the series by Brit actor JOHN SIMM.

Well! I didn't even know someone was making a movie about my life. I'm flattered. I'd better get royalties.Mr. Simm is going to have to bulk up a bit if he's going to look like me. Mr. Pudding, aren't you thrilled that a Yorkshireman is playing me? I sure hope he gets my accent right.

She supports the family while Brad is allegedly studying to pass a bar exam.

False! I have never studied for any of the 5 times I took the bar exam.

“Brad is a superstar,” said Max Stier, president and CEO of the partnership. “He has been a house on fire. Nobody meets him who is not delighted.”

True! I have never met Max Stier, but when you're famous (as I am), word gets around.

Brad is a different story, daydreaming through life in search of lost youth.

False! I am not searching for lost youth. I deliberately got rid of it. I'm a grouchy old gorilla.

Raised in Washington state as the youngest of five children, Brad is fit and athletic — the hallmarks of many successful Survivor contestants.

Someone did not do his or her homework. Even though I am fit and athletic, I was not raised in Washington State, and I am not the youngest of five children. Chad the Gorilla is younger than me, remember?

Brad is supposed to be studying for his bar exam, but he's more interested in teenage pursuits, such as skateboarding or football.

True!

"Brad is not pretentious. There's nothing artsy-fartsy about him," says Running With Scissors director Ryan Murphy.

False! And true! I am pretentious, but there is nothing artsy-fartsy about me, unless of course you count the time I attended art school. I got thrown out by the end of the semester, though. Philistines.

Brad is not dissatisfied with his stay-at-home status; his previous failure of the bar exam and present lack of will to study situates him in a lifestyle of watching his son while his beautiful wife (Jennifer Connelly) works to support them.

Everything is true except the part about the son and the wife.

Brad is a full time professional performer with outstanding vocals. ... Brad is available for tribute shows, Elvis-grams, special events, parties, reunions, carnivals, anniversaries, weddings or store promotions.

True! Except for the part about weddings and store promotions, of course. Those events are strictly Monkey's jurisdiction.

“Brad is a very talented driver and has an incredible NASCAR future ahead of him."

Was that your quote, Friday? If so, thanks so much. I'm really good at driving cars very fast and crashing them into other things. Why can't I get a driver's license, though? (And why didn't I notice the Coors Light sticker on my helmet before I put it on? I would never willingly shill for Coors light. O the embarrassment.)




Brad is a natural leader and entrepreneur.

True!

Pudding Flower

It has come to my attention that some of you were displeased with your personality test results. My goody-goody Landlady insisted I make things right, or she would throw me into the soup. (Generally, I like being thrown into the soup, but not when it's beef-barley. Ugh.) So, here goes.

For Yorkshire Pudding, I give the Yorkshire Pudding flower:



That's all I have for now. More later. Follow that pudding flower link, though, and you'll see some more interesting items, including the North Yorkshire Elvis Bus Tour.