We ain't got time to waste (or time to bleed), let's get the world's best faux holiday (as voted on by readers of Nuns' Life) started:
On the first day of Gheorghemas
Big Gheorghe Gave to Me
A bald guy with two pupp-ies
Showing posts with label happy gheorghemas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label happy gheorghemas. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 02, 2025
Tuesday, December 06, 2022
Gheorghemas, Day 1: WE BACK, BABY
The natives are restless, demanding the Day 1 post (in French, no less). Folks, it is officially go time once again on your favorite faux holiday...
On the first day of Gheorghemas
Big Gheorghe gave to me
Two dudes bested by Kazansky
Friday, December 04, 2020
Cue the Mariah Carey...Gheorghemas is back
What a year it's been, amirite folks? No, seriously, what a goddamn clusterfuck. A tip of the cap to everyone reading this who has been riding out a pandemic for the past nine months, with perhaps a glimmer of hope down the road...though still over the hills and far away.
I think it falls to this small corner of the internet to try to provide a little positivity, and what better way to do that than kick off the world's 169th most popular holiday, Gheorghemas. The folks at the corporate office have been on my ass for days (that asshole Hanrahan) to post Day 1, and in a fitting tribute to how the pandemic has disrupted every bit of our lives, from work to school to yes even birthday parties, I give you the best damn pandemic birthday gift one could receive to kick off this whole faux festivus fortnight...
On the first day of Gheorghemas
Big Gheorghe gave to me
A Cameo that will go down in history
Saturday, December 28, 2019
The Twelve Days of Gheorghemas 2019 Day 9: Nine (six, really) goats goatating
On the ninth day of Gheorghemas
Big Gheorghe gave to me:
Nine (six, really) goats goatating
Eight Autographs Showing How Sad My Childhood Was
Seven Books for Reading
Six Vinyl Discs
Five golden (Cream Yellow, really) cylinders for Squeaky
Four players playing
Three Nutty Squirrels
Two Chilean bangers (literally)
And a British lass slingin’ hot meat
Al Johnson's Swedish Restaurant & Butik is, as its name implies, a Swedish restaurant and boutique in Sister Bay, Wisconsin. More specifically, their website explains that "Al Johnson’s is an authentic Swedish family owned restaurant where you can find goats grazing the sod roof. It's quite a sight, and it's made this place one of the most famous restaurants in Door County."
That's right, the building features goats grazing on its roof. They even have a goatcam from May through October.
This feature is so remarkable and noteworthy that the owners applied for, and the United States Patent and Trademark Office granted, trade dress registration for the goats on the roof. Seriously. Here's their drawing of the mark:
I learned all of this because Todd C. Bank, allegedly a real person and an attorney, filed a petition to cancel Al Johson's trade dress registration. If you've been reading my G:TB stuff for any period of time, you probably predicted that. Also predictable: the court referred to the trade dress as the "Goats on the Roof Registration" throughout their opinion.
Much less predictable are Mr. Banks's arguments against the Goats on the Roof Registration. In particular, "Mr. Bank sought to cancel the Goats on the Roof Registration as functional, alleging that the trade dress 'is demeaning to' goats, which, in turn, 'is offensive to [Mr.] Bank and denigrates the value he [and others] place[] on the respect, dignity, and worth of animals.'"
Perhaps Mr. Bank was once a goat himself. He will always be a goat to me.
The Federal Circuit agreed with my latter sentiment and booted his case for lack of standing. In plain English, Mr. Bank had no "legitimate personal interest in the opposition."
Remarkably, this was the third time Mr. Bank opposed the Goats on the Roof Registration so the court awarded the restaurant its costs and attorney fees. Marls and the other barristers among our readership are likely saying "oh snap!" to themselves. Those of you who were smart enough to avoid law school will have to take my word for it when I say this is quite a benchslap.
If you want to show support for Al Johnson and his goats, I suggest you peruse the wonderful offerings in their butik. For example, they have these socks for Teedge:
Yes, those are goats wearing bowties.
They have these golf balls for Danimal:
And a shot glass for Whitney:
TR would love these playing cards with naked goats on them:
They even have child size goat tshirts for rob:
Who wouldn't like this goat hat (Scandanavian woman not included):
And just in time for Gheorghemas, this Änglaspel goat rotary candle holder would look perfect on everyone's mantle. Everyone should have a set of six to nine goats goatating in their living room.
Merry Gheorghemas everyone!
Big Gheorghe gave to me:
Nine (six, really) goats goatating
Eight Autographs Showing How Sad My Childhood Was
Seven Books for Reading
Six Vinyl Discs
Five golden (Cream Yellow, really) cylinders for Squeaky
Four players playing
Three Nutty Squirrels
Two Chilean bangers (literally)
And a British lass slingin’ hot meat
Al Johnson's Swedish Restaurant & Butik is, as its name implies, a Swedish restaurant and boutique in Sister Bay, Wisconsin. More specifically, their website explains that "Al Johnson’s is an authentic Swedish family owned restaurant where you can find goats grazing the sod roof. It's quite a sight, and it's made this place one of the most famous restaurants in Door County."
That's right, the building features goats grazing on its roof. They even have a goatcam from May through October.
This feature is so remarkable and noteworthy that the owners applied for, and the United States Patent and Trademark Office granted, trade dress registration for the goats on the roof. Seriously. Here's their drawing of the mark:
I learned all of this because Todd C. Bank, allegedly a real person and an attorney, filed a petition to cancel Al Johson's trade dress registration. If you've been reading my G:TB stuff for any period of time, you probably predicted that. Also predictable: the court referred to the trade dress as the "Goats on the Roof Registration" throughout their opinion.
Much less predictable are Mr. Banks's arguments against the Goats on the Roof Registration. In particular, "Mr. Bank sought to cancel the Goats on the Roof Registration as functional, alleging that the trade dress 'is demeaning to' goats, which, in turn, 'is offensive to [Mr.] Bank and denigrates the value he [and others] place[] on the respect, dignity, and worth of animals.'"
Perhaps Mr. Bank was once a goat himself. He will always be a goat to me.
The Federal Circuit agreed with my latter sentiment and booted his case for lack of standing. In plain English, Mr. Bank had no "legitimate personal interest in the opposition."
Remarkably, this was the third time Mr. Bank opposed the Goats on the Roof Registration so the court awarded the restaurant its costs and attorney fees. Marls and the other barristers among our readership are likely saying "oh snap!" to themselves. Those of you who were smart enough to avoid law school will have to take my word for it when I say this is quite a benchslap.
If you want to show support for Al Johnson and his goats, I suggest you peruse the wonderful offerings in their butik. For example, they have these socks for Teedge:
Yes, those are goats wearing bowties.
They have these golf balls for Danimal:
And a shot glass for Whitney:
TR would love these playing cards with naked goats on them:
They even have child size goat tshirts for rob:
Who wouldn't like this goat hat (Scandanavian woman not included):
And just in time for Gheorghemas, this Änglaspel goat rotary candle holder would look perfect on everyone's mantle. Everyone should have a set of six to nine goats goatating in their living room.
Merry Gheorghemas everyone!
Friday, December 13, 2019
The Twelve Days of Gheorghemas 2019: Day Five
On the fifth day of Gheorghemas
Big Gheorghe gave to me:
Five golden (Cream Yellow, really) cylinders for Squeaky
Four players playing
Three Nutty Squirrels
Two Chilean bangers (literally)
And a British lass slingin' hot meat
Squeaky is one of my favorite people in the world for a number of reasons. We agree on a lot of things but he's his own man. He likes what he likes because he likes it and not because anyone else told him to. That said, he isn't completely out in left field--a lot of the stuff he likes is completely logical. Most importantly, he doesn't denigrate things that you like that are different from what he likes.
Squeaky uses Android smart phones. He collects vinyl records. He has more Soul Coughing music than Mike Doughty and more Hüsker Dü songs than Bob Mould (and he has a ton of Doughty and Mould's solo work too). He gave me something like 10 GB of live Sonic Youth recordings. He drives to Queens to get hyper-local craft brewed beer, specifically purchasing the correct growler from their plethora of selections for the specific beer he wants. Everybody he knows is more relevant than everybody that I know.
Put simply, Squeaky knows what he's doing when he does his dizzle.
Squeaky drives all-wheel-drive European cars, typically station wagons, often Volvos. Wagons are better than sedans because they hold more stuff. Wagons are better than SUVs because they drive like cars, get better fuel economy, and their proportions make them inherently more stylish. We are like-minded in this regard so you know it's the correct thing to do.
For Gheorghemas I gift unto Squeaky his "What car should a Gheorghie drive?" car, a 1994 Volvo 850 T5-R station wagon in Cream Yellow with black interior and a 5-speed manual.
Volvos in general strike a great balance between safety, luxury, and affordability (compared to comparable offerings from other European marques). The T5-R was a special limited edition variant of the 850 that added sportiness and power to the mix. It has a 2.3 liter five cylinder engine making 243 horsepower--Volvo got Porsche to massage the engine, coaxing more than 100 horses per liter out of it. The 850 T5-R was only sold in the US in 1995, so for Squeaky to get a 1994 he would have to buy it overseas and have it imported, which seems like a Squeaky thing to do in order to get the right T5-R. Only 49 Cream Yellow T5-R wagons were brought to the US so Squeaky won't have to worry about seeing another car like his. Here's one in Waalwijk Netherlands available for US import for about $29k. The mileage is a little high but it's remarkably crispy otherwise and my soft spot for pale yellow cars is well documented.
In 1996 they changed the car's name to 805R and eliminated the manual transmission. I couldn't find a video of a T5-R review but here's Motorweek's take on the 850R from 1996.
Merry Gheorghemas!
Big Gheorghe gave to me:
Five golden (Cream Yellow, really) cylinders for Squeaky
Four players playing
Three Nutty Squirrels
Two Chilean bangers (literally)
And a British lass slingin' hot meat
Squeaky is one of my favorite people in the world for a number of reasons. We agree on a lot of things but he's his own man. He likes what he likes because he likes it and not because anyone else told him to. That said, he isn't completely out in left field--a lot of the stuff he likes is completely logical. Most importantly, he doesn't denigrate things that you like that are different from what he likes.
Squeaky uses Android smart phones. He collects vinyl records. He has more Soul Coughing music than Mike Doughty and more Hüsker Dü songs than Bob Mould (and he has a ton of Doughty and Mould's solo work too). He gave me something like 10 GB of live Sonic Youth recordings. He drives to Queens to get hyper-local craft brewed beer, specifically purchasing the correct growler from their plethora of selections for the specific beer he wants. Everybody he knows is more relevant than everybody that I know.
Put simply, Squeaky knows what he's doing when he does his dizzle.
Squeaky drives all-wheel-drive European cars, typically station wagons, often Volvos. Wagons are better than sedans because they hold more stuff. Wagons are better than SUVs because they drive like cars, get better fuel economy, and their proportions make them inherently more stylish. We are like-minded in this regard so you know it's the correct thing to do.
For Gheorghemas I gift unto Squeaky his "What car should a Gheorghie drive?" car, a 1994 Volvo 850 T5-R station wagon in Cream Yellow with black interior and a 5-speed manual.
Volvos in general strike a great balance between safety, luxury, and affordability (compared to comparable offerings from other European marques). The T5-R was a special limited edition variant of the 850 that added sportiness and power to the mix. It has a 2.3 liter five cylinder engine making 243 horsepower--Volvo got Porsche to massage the engine, coaxing more than 100 horses per liter out of it. The 850 T5-R was only sold in the US in 1995, so for Squeaky to get a 1994 he would have to buy it overseas and have it imported, which seems like a Squeaky thing to do in order to get the right T5-R. Only 49 Cream Yellow T5-R wagons were brought to the US so Squeaky won't have to worry about seeing another car like his. Here's one in Waalwijk Netherlands available for US import for about $29k. The mileage is a little high but it's remarkably crispy otherwise and my soft spot for pale yellow cars is well documented.
In 1996 they changed the car's name to 805R and eliminated the manual transmission. I couldn't find a video of a T5-R review but here's Motorweek's take on the 850R from 1996.
Merry Gheorghemas!
Sunday, December 30, 2018
Gheorghemas Interlude: Shit to Make You Smile
As we wind down what has to go down as one of the worst annums in recent memory (Red Sox World Series championship notwithstanding), I want to leave us on a high note. Over the past several weeks, in addition to the usual heartwarming holiday fare - like Gheorghemas - a number of noteworthy and happy-making things crossed by desk.
FOG:TB LeBron James was caught on camera dadding the shit out of it after his son's basketball game. While I might argue that a parent's first job post-game is to ask his kid if they had fun, tell them that you love them, and leave the coaching to the coaches, we'll give the world's best basketball player a pass. I love how he boosted his kid while pointing out how his efforts contributed to the team's outcome.
Lin Wang died in December. He was a cat-litter chemist from Muscatine, Iowa. Charles Barkley showed up at his funeral, and said a few words. The full story, from Wang's daughter Shirley, is remarkable.
Here are a handful of Liverpool players surprising kids at a local school, not all of which are fans of the Reds.
I'm a sucker for military parent/child reunions, maybe because I had a few of those myself as a young man. They never fail to bring a tear to my eye. You can argue that they're exploitative, and when they happen in public venues like ballgames, I might agree. But this one was great.
I miss President Obama. Hell, I miss President Bush at this point - either one. I cannot for a moment fathom the current occupant of the White House doing this, which is all the more reason for the sentiment in the first sentence of this paragraph.
And finally, in a bit of a departure from everything else in this post, Christmas Day marked the 25th anniversary of the release of Tombstone, one of the all-time stop-and-watch movies. Whitney really nailed it when he scored me that autographed Doc Holliday lid. In honor of the occasion, one of too many terrific scenes from the film.
FOG:TB LeBron James was caught on camera dadding the shit out of it after his son's basketball game. While I might argue that a parent's first job post-game is to ask his kid if they had fun, tell them that you love them, and leave the coaching to the coaches, we'll give the world's best basketball player a pass. I love how he boosted his kid while pointing out how his efforts contributed to the team's outcome.
Lin Wang died in December. He was a cat-litter chemist from Muscatine, Iowa. Charles Barkley showed up at his funeral, and said a few words. The full story, from Wang's daughter Shirley, is remarkable.
Here are a handful of Liverpool players surprising kids at a local school, not all of which are fans of the Reds.
I'm a sucker for military parent/child reunions, maybe because I had a few of those myself as a young man. They never fail to bring a tear to my eye. You can argue that they're exploitative, and when they happen in public venues like ballgames, I might agree. But this one was great.
I miss President Obama. Hell, I miss President Bush at this point - either one. I cannot for a moment fathom the current occupant of the White House doing this, which is all the more reason for the sentiment in the first sentence of this paragraph.
And finally, in a bit of a departure from everything else in this post, Christmas Day marked the 25th anniversary of the release of Tombstone, one of the all-time stop-and-watch movies. Whitney really nailed it when he scored me that autographed Doc Holliday lid. In honor of the occasion, one of too many terrific scenes from the film.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
