Awesome: the First Ever (and, with luck, First Annual) Schwarzeneggerian Execution Taunt Contest & Tremendathon is, like, totally on!
WHAT!?!: In honor of the birth of Michael Tapper, which birth’s anniversary is on January 17, W.A.S. announces the FE(a,wl,FA)ETC&T. This is a competition that W.A.S. has designed specifically to determine who can come up with the very best Schwarzeneggerian execution taunt, in honor of Tapper. Use the taunts posted last week on this page (see below) as a guide to format.
WHO!??!: Why, YOU! There was never a better time than now to become involved in an execution taunt contest. Face it: if you let yet another e.t. contest’s close date pass without submitting, you’re going to go out back and – using 20 ft. of common flax rope and that big ol’ oak tree grandpaps used to fire crossbow bolts into with such accuracy – hang yourself! Which brings us to this point:
WHEN??????: The last day to enter The FE(a,wl,FA)ETC&T is Friday, January 24th, the very day that a big ol’ party will be held in Michael Tapper’s honor in Williamsburg featuring Michael’s favorite band, we are scientists. You don’t have a second to lose! Get out your pad and paper, crank up w.a.s. on the boombox, slap some butter on the soles of your feet, fasten your vintage polio braces and get writing!!
WHAT CAN I WIN??!!: Prizes will include a variety of hot we are scientists merchandise (some customized!) and a coveted spot in our coming-soon as-yet-unnamed hall of fame, which will be a page on this site, which will feature profiles of crucial figures in the w.a.s. universe, such as the winner of The FE(a,wl,FA)ETC&T.
HOW!!!!: It’s easy! Just go to the Discussions page on this site, click on the “Execution Taunt Contest” forum, and post your execution taunt! What could be easier besides stuff that is lame like chewing gum or falling down some stairs or becoming a cop!
Here’re last weeks execution taunts, in case you haven’t read them 8 times yet…
“Feeling Sleepy” – After long kicking/slapping episode between S. and well-matched adversary, in which S. and adversary in turn kick the other’s thigh or slap the other’s face (the reason for which methods of fighting left unspoken), both opponents teeter exhaustedly in the logging mill to where Arnold had tracked the villain. Just as the audience expects both to collapse simultaneously, Arnold, barely audible, mutters, “Feewing sweepy” At which his adversary glances up in time to see a broom fly the distance between them into his heaving chest handle-first and then down in time to see sawdust incidentally swept into a neat pile as he crumples forward onto the broom.
“Time�s Up” After backing villain, who has been known to proctor many a standardized exam, into the far corner of a giant warehouse full of giant clocks, Schwarzie steals a glance at his wristwatch and sneers, “Time’s Ahp,” at which the two-ton cuckoo clock overhead chimes the top of the hour, releasing from its doors a giant hand-held hammer, which immediately and unceremoniously crushes said villain.
“Can I borrow a quarter” Arnold, in Conan gear, faces adversary, sword in hand. Suddenly rummaging around in his satchel, Arnold asks, “Can I borrow a quartuh” To which his foe replies, “A quarter of what” One horizontal slice across and one vertical slice down, and then, “You.”
“Smoke weed every day” Arnold and bad-guy stand in dry prairie field, stretching in every direction as far as the camera can see, a helicopter hovering overhead. Arnold wraps the helicopter’s rope ladder around his left hand, and, as the helicopter lifts him away, calls out laughing, “Smoke weed every day.” And then the napalm.
“Your ass is grass” – Schwarzenegger knocks villain to the floor, rendering him unconscious. S. looks around the room; his eyes stop and slowly widen when he sees an old lawnmower. As villain begins to come to, his blurry vision reveals S. standing over him with the lawnmower held aloft, its engine roaring, its blade an invisible spin. “Yooah ass is grass,” S. intones mechanically, then leans heavily on the mower.
“Looks like dreams do come true” – At some point during the film, Schwarzenegger is captured. As he’s led away to be tortured, he addresses villain angrily: “I’d like to feed you to SOME ALLIGATORS!” “Dream on,” sneers villain. Later in the film, S. dangles villain by his ankle over a pit of gators; over villain’s cries of panic and fear and offers of sex with his daughter, S. intones mechanically, “Looks like dreams do come true,” then drops villain to the snapping tooth-racks below.
“Time to pay the piper” – Villain has the curious habit of referring to his pack of violent hunting dogs collectively as “the Piper”; his treatment of “the Piper” is quite brutal, and they, in turn, draw great satisfaction from tearing villain’s enemies apart when given the chance. At film’s climax, Schwarzenegger has got the best of villain and is dangling him by his ankle over the pit in which the Piper’s constituents are spinning and bucking and gnashing their slobbery teeth. Intones S.: “Time to pay da Pipuh,” indicating quotes around “the Piper” with his free hand. Then with the dropping.
“I guess you’re a dog person” – Villain collects dangerous wild animals. Among them are three massive tigers, which he keeps in a pit. At film’s climax, Schwarzenegger, having secretly laid a carpet over the pit, dares villain to walk over it. “Walk over a carpet?” villain scoffs, and does so, falling into the pit of tigers. As the tigers shred villain, S. muses, “I guess yooah more of a dog person.”
“He barely escaped” – Villain collects dangerous wild animals. Among them is a big mean grizzly bear. At film’s climax, Schwarzenegger wrestles villain into submission and casts him into the pit where the griz is kept, and, in easily the grizzliest scene of recent cinema, the bear tears villain to pieces. In the next scene, S.’s back-up arrives; as he and the female sex-object are led toward the ambulance for wound-patching, S.’s partner/sergeant/sensei asks what happened to villain. Explains Schwarzenegger: “He bearly escaped.” P/s/s chuckles knowingly.
“Sounds like that bill was just vetoed.” – Villain is William S. Dedalus, Polish oil magnate. Schwarzenegger, in an unusual display of restraint, forgoes doing away with the evil-doer on his own, opting instead to hire a cadre of Italian mobsters to assassinate him. When word comes to HQ that William Dedalus sleeps with the fishes, Schwarzenegger mechanically intones: “Sounds like that Bill was just Vito-ed.”
“You’re a chip off the old block.” – Villain is Gary Block, Bulgarian diamond exporter. Following a prolonged tussle on a cliff overlooking the Ganges, Schwarzenegger gets a hold of an axe that’s lying around, handily, and proceeds to lop off his arch-nemesis’ head in one muscle-bound, meat-headed swing. Picking up the liberated skull, S. gazes condescendingly at the visage of his gore-coated ex-enemy and mechanically intones, “You’re a chip off the old Block.”
“What a cutting remark” – intoned mechanically by Swarzenegger following his above comment.
“The check bounced,” – Villain is Randolph Pittance, Czech banker. After a 43-minute tussle on the roof of a vertiginously tall building, Schwarzenegger lifts the 95-lb. Pittance above his head and unceremoniously throws him over the ledge. As the paramedics approach, Schwarzenegger, who was unauthorized to take action against the banker, strolls casually away, lighting up his signature stogie. Peering with trepidation at the mangled, bloody mess on the sidewalk, Paramedic 1 turns toward Schwarzenegger and asks, “What happened to him?” “The Czech bounced,” Schwarzenegger intones mechanically, and then throws his lit cigar into pool of gasoline that is (for some reason) slowly accruing beneath the ambulance, causing an enormous explosion that kills three paramedics and four civilian bystanders.
“Careful, she’s a wildcat in the sack.” – Villain is Gerald Chatternon, Romanian boating enthusiast. In an elaborate plan to capture his elusive foe, Schwarzenegger capitalizes on Chatternon’s famously crippling affection for prostitutes by disguising himself as the proprietor of a Hungarian brothel. Opening the door into a darkened bedroom for Chatternon, Schwarzenneger gestures toward a shape atop the bed, which is obfuscated by the opulent linens and romantically dim lighting. A salacious Chatternon eagerly hands Schwarzenegger his two bits and rushes into the chamber, already removing his top hat and Washington Redskins jersey. Suddenly, S. slams the door shut, and wrings his hands victoriously. From behind the door, we are treated to the sound of what is clearly a kill-crazy mountain cat leaping from beneath a fine down comforter and rending the flesh of a Romanian boating enthusiast (read: roars, human howls, miscellaneous squishes). “Careful,” Schwarzenegger intones mechanically, “she’s a wildcat in the sack.”