From Ananova: "Drunk Driver Ran Over Himself."
That headline just speaks for itself. Specifically, it says, "Yesh, ish there a porblem, occifer?"
I do wonder how insurance is going to cover this one. Is there such a thing as a victimless vehicular crime, the automobile equivalent of prostitution or drug use?
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Mini-Review: Quantum of Solace
Just got back from watching "Quantum of Solace," the most recent James Bond film of the Daniel Craig era. First reaction: gee, the cars in James Bond movies sure are prone to...exploding. If you shoot them, they explode. If you run into them, they explode. If you try to drive one without wearing your seatbelt, they...well, you get the picture.
In fact, the whole world of "Quantum of Solace" seems to be suffering from the worst case of explode-itis that I've seen outside of an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie. Sure, the cars blow up, but so do planes, boats, and building. They do so randomly, without explanation; the director seems to think that the only way to ratchet up the excitement is to toss in a couple pillowy fireballs. Fittingly, the movie's final showdown takes place within a desert resort that transforms, quite abruptly and without explanation, into a gigantic stick of TNT.
I called out the director in the last paragraph. Time to call him out again. The man--whoever he is, and I refuse to look up his name--has no idea what he's doing. First of all, he made the rookie mistake of entrusting the camera and editing work to a gang of epileptics. The average scene during chases and fights clocks in at roughly .5 seconds, while the longest lasts no more than .75. Everything is just an incomprehensible jumble of gunshots, explosions, kicks, punches, and grunts. It doesn't help matters that every male character, good and bad, looks damn near identical. They're all big, hulking men with short scrubby hair and grizzled, chiseled faces.
The lone exception is the villain--whose name I also refuse to look up, on the grounds that if he were really a good villain I wouldn't have to look it up--who is some Eurotrashy weenie who schemes to take over 60% of Bolivia's water supply. Whoa, momma! Move over, Dr. Evil! Next thing you now, that dastardly megalomaniac will try to buy up the electric company, so that anytime somebody lands on his utilities they'll have to pay 10 times the number shown on the dice. And after that--the B&O railroad! Bwa ha ha ha!
What made "Casino Royale" such a great movie, and such an exhilirating reboot, was that it simplified and clarified the whole Bond formula. Gone were the gadgets, the cartoonishly complicated plots, the pointless globe-trotting. Well, they're baaaaack! "Quantum of Solace" resucitates everything that made the old Bond films unwatchable. Daniel Craig's Bond has been transformed from a complicated--if blunt--individual into a Jack Baueresque killing machine. Judi Dench's M exists as much for comic relief as anything else. And the Bond girl is...well, I never quite got her deal. Something about getting revenge on some tin-pot Bolivarian dictator? Not the stuff of high drama.
In conclusion..."Quantum of Solace" isn't very good. In fact, it isn't good at all. In fact, it's pretty bad. I spent most of the movie's second half thinking about the delicious slice of pumpkin and chocolate cake waiting for me at home. Assuming, of course, that it hadn't exploded before I got there.
In fact, the whole world of "Quantum of Solace" seems to be suffering from the worst case of explode-itis that I've seen outside of an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie. Sure, the cars blow up, but so do planes, boats, and building. They do so randomly, without explanation; the director seems to think that the only way to ratchet up the excitement is to toss in a couple pillowy fireballs. Fittingly, the movie's final showdown takes place within a desert resort that transforms, quite abruptly and without explanation, into a gigantic stick of TNT.
I called out the director in the last paragraph. Time to call him out again. The man--whoever he is, and I refuse to look up his name--has no idea what he's doing. First of all, he made the rookie mistake of entrusting the camera and editing work to a gang of epileptics. The average scene during chases and fights clocks in at roughly .5 seconds, while the longest lasts no more than .75. Everything is just an incomprehensible jumble of gunshots, explosions, kicks, punches, and grunts. It doesn't help matters that every male character, good and bad, looks damn near identical. They're all big, hulking men with short scrubby hair and grizzled, chiseled faces.
The lone exception is the villain--whose name I also refuse to look up, on the grounds that if he were really a good villain I wouldn't have to look it up--who is some Eurotrashy weenie who schemes to take over 60% of Bolivia's water supply. Whoa, momma! Move over, Dr. Evil! Next thing you now, that dastardly megalomaniac will try to buy up the electric company, so that anytime somebody lands on his utilities they'll have to pay 10 times the number shown on the dice. And after that--the B&O railroad! Bwa ha ha ha!
What made "Casino Royale" such a great movie, and such an exhilirating reboot, was that it simplified and clarified the whole Bond formula. Gone were the gadgets, the cartoonishly complicated plots, the pointless globe-trotting. Well, they're baaaaack! "Quantum of Solace" resucitates everything that made the old Bond films unwatchable. Daniel Craig's Bond has been transformed from a complicated--if blunt--individual into a Jack Baueresque killing machine. Judi Dench's M exists as much for comic relief as anything else. And the Bond girl is...well, I never quite got her deal. Something about getting revenge on some tin-pot Bolivarian dictator? Not the stuff of high drama.
In conclusion..."Quantum of Solace" isn't very good. In fact, it isn't good at all. In fact, it's pretty bad. I spent most of the movie's second half thinking about the delicious slice of pumpkin and chocolate cake waiting for me at home. Assuming, of course, that it hadn't exploded before I got there.
Better Late Than Never
There's restraint, there's extreme self-discipline, there's mortification of the flesh to a near-ludicrous degree, and then there's this:
Chicagoans Melody LaLuz and Claudaniel Fabien shared their first kiss Saturday at the altar. The two teach abstinence at the city's public schools and practiced what they preached to their teenage students.
Witnesses say they had a little trouble at first, but after a couple abortive attempts both were able to lock lips in a gesture that could, charitably, be deemed a "kiss." A few more tries were needed before they could pull it off without a hitch.
Then there's this kicker:
LaLuz and Fabien say they have no worries about how they will spend their honeymoon in the Bahamas.
Heh heh! Somebody's going to be getting to second base!
Chicagoans Melody LaLuz and Claudaniel Fabien shared their first kiss Saturday at the altar. The two teach abstinence at the city's public schools and practiced what they preached to their teenage students.
Witnesses say they had a little trouble at first, but after a couple abortive attempts both were able to lock lips in a gesture that could, charitably, be deemed a "kiss." A few more tries were needed before they could pull it off without a hitch.
Then there's this kicker:
LaLuz and Fabien say they have no worries about how they will spend their honeymoon in the Bahamas.
Heh heh! Somebody's going to be getting to second base!
Ew Ew Ew
Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew. In conclusion, ew.
A Truffling Matter
In this time of economic turmoil, PCH99 would like to thank you for your readership by giving you--completely free of cost!--a list of recession-proof businesses. No matter how grim things get on the economic front, you can't go wrong in these occupations:
-Teaching
-Computer engineering
-Healthcare
-Law enforcement
-The digging up and selling of gigantic edible fungi
-Did I mention healthcare? I did? Well, then try that fungi thing
-Teaching
-Computer engineering
-Healthcare
-Law enforcement
-The digging up and selling of gigantic edible fungi
-Did I mention healthcare? I did? Well, then try that fungi thing
Stop Poking Me!
Nicolas Sarkozy has to deal with an economic crisis, urban unrest, and the ever-present threat of international terrorism. There's one thing he doesn't have to worry about anymore, though: the bizarre and supernatural power of voodoo.
Thank God for that. What if, during a time of crisis, Sarkozy were incapacitated by a sudden, shooting pain in his right leg? We can only imagine the repercussions.
Thank God for that. What if, during a time of crisis, Sarkozy were incapacitated by a sudden, shooting pain in his right leg? We can only imagine the repercussions.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
"Animal Noises Escape Me"
It's not quite the Nobel Prize, or the Booker Prize, or the Pulitzer Prize, or even the Miss Johnson's 3rd Grade Best Short Story Award. But it is something. And that something is...the Bad Sex in Fiction Award!
Take a gander at the winner, from Rachel Johnson's "otherwise excellent" (or so they say) book "Shire Hell":
I find myself gripping his ears and tugging at the locks curling over them, beside myself, and a strange animal noise escapes from me as the mounting, Wagnerian crescendo overtakes me.
A Wagnerian crescendo? Really? Does it involve leitmotifs or continuous music? Is it indicative of the German Romantic style? Does it draw upon ancient German and Norse mythology? Would Hitler have liked it?
Let me add: here's a major literary award that I could possibly win someday!
Take a gander at the winner, from Rachel Johnson's "otherwise excellent" (or so they say) book "Shire Hell":
I find myself gripping his ears and tugging at the locks curling over them, beside myself, and a strange animal noise escapes from me as the mounting, Wagnerian crescendo overtakes me.
A Wagnerian crescendo? Really? Does it involve leitmotifs or continuous music? Is it indicative of the German Romantic style? Does it draw upon ancient German and Norse mythology? Would Hitler have liked it?
Let me add: here's a major literary award that I could possibly win someday!
Monday, November 24, 2008
The Descent of Man
Here's an interesting...thing: a "game console controller family tree." It traces the video game controller from its humble beginnins in the Intellivision era to the sleek, beautiful modernity of the Wii and Xbox 360 controllers. Mmm...sleekness.
Along the way, you can watch as undesirable traits are weeded out. And by "undesirable traits," I'm talking about this specific controller:
My God...it's hideous! If a jellyfish was knocked up by a Commodore 64 and then drank to the point of fetal alcohol syndrome, this is what the end result would look like.
Along the way, you can watch as undesirable traits are weeded out. And by "undesirable traits," I'm talking about this specific controller:
My God...it's hideous! If a jellyfish was knocked up by a Commodore 64 and then drank to the point of fetal alcohol syndrome, this is what the end result would look like.
Makin' Bacon
I think I'll reserve the snarky comments and let the following snark for itself:
In a league of favourite foods, bacon and chocolate would both be near the top.
Damn it, people, bacon doesn't make everything taste better! Just almost everything!
In a league of favourite foods, bacon and chocolate would both be near the top.
Usually, it has to be said, eaten separately.
Now, however, confectioners have combined the two in the world's first bacon chocolate bar. And it is proving a major success with British customers.
Damn it, people, bacon doesn't make everything taste better! Just almost everything!
Anybody Missing a Piano?
Hey, have any of you guys misplaced a Baldwin piano recently? If so, the Massachusetts police would like to have a word with you.
I'm racking my brains to explain this one. I can see dumping a Steinway out in the woods; a Yamaha, even. But a Baldwin? That's just flat-out ridiculous.
I'm racking my brains to explain this one. I can see dumping a Steinway out in the woods; a Yamaha, even. But a Baldwin? That's just flat-out ridiculous.
Fakin' It
Uh-oh. Does this mean I'm going to get in trouble because I said my candidacy for student body president was endorsed by Jesus?
Threedee
This should be good. As if regular NFL games in HD were not enough, we will now have the chance to watch them...in 3D.
The bad news? For starters, the first game to be broadcast in 3D will be between the Oakland Raiders and the San Diego Chargers. The Oakland Raiders and the San Diego Chargers. The Chargers are maybe the biggest disappointment in football this century. They were supposed to be Super Bowl champions. Instead, they can barely hang on to the ball.
The Oakland Raiders, thankfully, have not disappointed. Everyone predicted they would be terrible, so they went right out and proved everybody 100% right.
To make a Raiders vs. Chargers game the first 3D broadcast ever would be akin to "Titanic" being the first movie ever made with dialogue. Sure, it's a leap forward, but the new technology will be forever tainted by its association with the unspeakably terrible.
I look forward to further advances in technology, though. How 'bout something like this. You get strapped into a special chair at the beginning of the game, and every time the quarterback gets sacked it gives you an electric shock. It has potential!
The bad news? For starters, the first game to be broadcast in 3D will be between the Oakland Raiders and the San Diego Chargers. The Oakland Raiders and the San Diego Chargers. The Chargers are maybe the biggest disappointment in football this century. They were supposed to be Super Bowl champions. Instead, they can barely hang on to the ball.
The Oakland Raiders, thankfully, have not disappointed. Everyone predicted they would be terrible, so they went right out and proved everybody 100% right.
To make a Raiders vs. Chargers game the first 3D broadcast ever would be akin to "Titanic" being the first movie ever made with dialogue. Sure, it's a leap forward, but the new technology will be forever tainted by its association with the unspeakably terrible.
I look forward to further advances in technology, though. How 'bout something like this. You get strapped into a special chair at the beginning of the game, and every time the quarterback gets sacked it gives you an electric shock. It has potential!
Book 'Em
OK, here's your cultural enlightenment for the day, a piece from the New York Times. The topic: Excessively positive book reviews. The diagnosis: they are, in fact, pretty stupid. I concur heartily, strongly, overwhelmingly, and so on and so forth.
In fact, I right now I could probably bang out a review of a book I'd never read and make it sound like your average review. I'm sitting in the library right now, so let me take a look at the nearest book. One moment, please...
OK, it's a real page-turned called "Hegel on the Arts." Here's what I'd write about it:
"Hegel On the Arts" is, without a doubt, the finest piece of pulped wood with letters inscribed upon it that has come across my desk in many a moon. When I first opened it I felt a chill race down my spine, and then back up it again. My spine did not lead me wrong.
I have read Shakespeare. I have read Dickens. I have read Faulkner and Goethe and Dante and all your other authors whose very names drip with praise poured on by centuries of critics. And I say to you they are crap! They are as nothing compared to "Hegel On the Arts."
This book changed my life, mostly for the better; and what it changed for the worse, I shall treasure even more, for even those changes were the product of "Hegel On the Arts." It was a revolution in my brain, one of the good kinds of revolution, not the one where the commoners end up oppressed, but the one that ends with the triumphant emergence of a new and glittering nation. Like America, hopefully.
In short...no, I cannot be short. I must stop completely. If I do not end this review here I will speak from now until doomsday about the perfection that is "Hegel On the Arts."
There you go. Wouldn't look out of place in the New York Review of Books, would it?
By the way, I read some of that Hegel book. It sucked.
Link via that hotbed of right-wing reaction, National Review's "The Corner."
In fact, I right now I could probably bang out a review of a book I'd never read and make it sound like your average review. I'm sitting in the library right now, so let me take a look at the nearest book. One moment, please...
OK, it's a real page-turned called "Hegel on the Arts." Here's what I'd write about it:
"Hegel On the Arts" is, without a doubt, the finest piece of pulped wood with letters inscribed upon it that has come across my desk in many a moon. When I first opened it I felt a chill race down my spine, and then back up it again. My spine did not lead me wrong.
I have read Shakespeare. I have read Dickens. I have read Faulkner and Goethe and Dante and all your other authors whose very names drip with praise poured on by centuries of critics. And I say to you they are crap! They are as nothing compared to "Hegel On the Arts."
This book changed my life, mostly for the better; and what it changed for the worse, I shall treasure even more, for even those changes were the product of "Hegel On the Arts." It was a revolution in my brain, one of the good kinds of revolution, not the one where the commoners end up oppressed, but the one that ends with the triumphant emergence of a new and glittering nation. Like America, hopefully.
In short...no, I cannot be short. I must stop completely. If I do not end this review here I will speak from now until doomsday about the perfection that is "Hegel On the Arts."
There you go. Wouldn't look out of place in the New York Review of Books, would it?
By the way, I read some of that Hegel book. It sucked.
Link via that hotbed of right-wing reaction, National Review's "The Corner."
Sunday, November 23, 2008
The Ugly Truth
An Australian mayor was recently given an award for "most sexist comment of the year" for encouraging ugly women to come to his little outback town. He says that out there, even the ugliest of ducklings can find a little love. Probably with a big, sweaty, Vegemite-guzzling, Foster's-chugging guy named Steve, but love nonetheless.
I say, what's the big problem? Sure, it was sexist. Sure, it was crass. Sure, it was insulting to both women and to the people of his town. OK, I guess it is a big problem.
I say, what's the big problem? Sure, it was sexist. Sure, it was crass. Sure, it was insulting to both women and to the people of his town. OK, I guess it is a big problem.
One of My Top 10 Top 10 Lists
Here's a keeper: Top 10 Most Outrageous Opening Lines in Literature. Granted, their criteria for "outrageous" seems broader than Marlon Brando's waistline (ba-dum-bum!). But how can you resist something like this?
"We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like 'I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive . . .' And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas. And a voice was screaming, 'Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?'"
Ah, could there be a better expression of drug-induced psychosis than the opening of "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas"?
I would note, however, that they've left off possibly the most outrageous opening lines in all of history. Here they are:
"The door burst off of its hinges, and through it roared a massive T-Rex genetically engineered to have the brain (and mustache) of Adolf Hitler!"
That comes from my soon-to-be-released book, American History Rex, coming to bookshelves near you this December!
By the way, I must credit Dr. Newmark's blog for finding the list. If you've never visited that world of economic whimsy and wonder, you ought to check it out.
"We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like 'I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive . . .' And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas. And a voice was screaming, 'Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?'"
Ah, could there be a better expression of drug-induced psychosis than the opening of "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas"?
I would note, however, that they've left off possibly the most outrageous opening lines in all of history. Here they are:
"The door burst off of its hinges, and through it roared a massive T-Rex genetically engineered to have the brain (and mustache) of Adolf Hitler!"
That comes from my soon-to-be-released book, American History Rex, coming to bookshelves near you this December!
By the way, I must credit Dr. Newmark's blog for finding the list. If you've never visited that world of economic whimsy and wonder, you ought to check it out.
Free Mailman Steve!
It's like Free Mumia for non-crazy people! For those of you who don't know the story, Steve Padgett was arrested for his bold, principled, heroic refusal to deliver junk mail.
He recently received his sentence: probation and a $3,000 fine. He was forced to decide between that punishment and another offered by the judge, which was to eat all the junk mail he refused to deliver. Unsurprisingly, he opted for the fine.
Mailman Steve, I salute you. If we had more people like you...then...well, the world wouldn't be that different at all, I guess. So...there ya go.
He recently received his sentence: probation and a $3,000 fine. He was forced to decide between that punishment and another offered by the judge, which was to eat all the junk mail he refused to deliver. Unsurprisingly, he opted for the fine.
Mailman Steve, I salute you. If we had more people like you...then...well, the world wouldn't be that different at all, I guess. So...there ya go.
Alive and Kicking
Let me just say: I think "Kick a Ginger Day" is the stupidest Facebook event since July's "Kick Will Schultz Day," and only marginally less stupid than February's "Send Will Schultz Threatening E-Mails Day."
But this remind me. I forgot to pick up "Kick a Ginger Day," presents for my family this year, again. So embarrassing, the way it sneaks up on you.
But this remind me. I forgot to pick up "Kick a Ginger Day," presents for my family this year, again. So embarrassing, the way it sneaks up on you.
Let It Be
The Vatican, proving they never bear a grudge for long, has chosen to forgive John Lennon for claiming the Beatles were "more popular than Jesus."
I think Lennon is a bit beyond caring at this point. But remember, it took the Vatican a couple centuries to get around to forgiving Galileo for the whole imprisonment thing. So they're really picking up the pace!
By the way, no word on whether they'll forgive Ringo for releasing the "No No Song." Some sins cannot be unsinned, in my opinion.
I think Lennon is a bit beyond caring at this point. But remember, it took the Vatican a couple centuries to get around to forgiving Galileo for the whole imprisonment thing. So they're really picking up the pace!
By the way, no word on whether they'll forgive Ringo for releasing the "No No Song." Some sins cannot be unsinned, in my opinion.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Fun with Lexicography
How do I feel about the word "meh" being added to the Collins English Dictionary? All I can say is...well, you know.
Toilet Bowl
We have to wait until January to find out who's the best college football team in America, but thankfully, we don't have to wait that long to know who's the worst. And the winner (relatively speaking) is...
THE UNIVERSITY OF WASHINGTON HUSKIES!
Congratulations, Huskies! We didn't think you could pull it off, but you've managed to beat the adds and go 0-11 so far this season.
Today, they overcame what was probably their biggest hurdle (again, relatively speaking): the Washington State Cougars. Remember, that was the team that was so utterly terrible that its coach was basically begging somebody--anybody--to play quarterback.
Only the University of California stands between the Huskies and total, humiliating perfection. C'mon now, Bears, let's not spoil UW's magical season.
THE UNIVERSITY OF WASHINGTON HUSKIES!
Congratulations, Huskies! We didn't think you could pull it off, but you've managed to beat the adds and go 0-11 so far this season.
Today, they overcame what was probably their biggest hurdle (again, relatively speaking): the Washington State Cougars. Remember, that was the team that was so utterly terrible that its coach was basically begging somebody--anybody--to play quarterback.
Only the University of California stands between the Huskies and total, humiliating perfection. C'mon now, Bears, let's not spoil UW's magical season.
More Like....Crappy Hour
Breaking news: those fun-loving Brits are thinking about banning happy hour in order to reduce drinking.
Somewhat less important breaking news: With the demise of happy hour, the popular newspaper comic "Beetle Bailey" now loses 50% of his joke material.
Somewhat less important breaking news: With the demise of happy hour, the popular newspaper comic "Beetle Bailey" now loses 50% of his joke material.
Let's Get Wet
Boy, there ain't nothing like a motorcycle. Yessir, a sleek, black, rip-roarin', eardrum-poppin', neighborhood-association-irritatin' hog...nothin' like it in the world.
When you own a motorcycle, you're makin' a statement. You say: I'm bold! I'm tough! I live large, I don't take no prisoners, and if you disagree, buddy, I might just come over their and knock your teeth so far down your throat that you'll be brushing your teeth with a toothpaste enema! And I wet the bed! Wait, scratch that last one...
When you own a motorcycle, you're makin' a statement. You say: I'm bold! I'm tough! I live large, I don't take no prisoners, and if you disagree, buddy, I might just come over their and knock your teeth so far down your throat that you'll be brushing your teeth with a toothpaste enema! And I wet the bed! Wait, scratch that last one...
Bad, Bad Pet Giant!
Headline from CBS: "Pet Giant Linked to Puppy Mills."
This is what happens when you get too permissive with your pet giant. First they start drinking out of the local reservoir. Then they start...doing their business in the sandbox at the local play ground. And the next thing you know they're running illegal puppy mills!
For the love of God, people, please be firm with your pet giants. This has been a Public Service Announcement. Good night, and God bless.
This is what happens when you get too permissive with your pet giant. First they start drinking out of the local reservoir. Then they start...doing their business in the sandbox at the local play ground. And the next thing you know they're running illegal puppy mills!
For the love of God, people, please be firm with your pet giants. This has been a Public Service Announcement. Good night, and God bless.
Smell Ya Later
Will's recently updated list of things that are fatal in large doses:
1. Candy
2. Arsenic
3. Water
4. Salt
5. Bullets in the face
6. Spray-on deodorant
As a college student, though, I sometimes find myself wishing that Axe spray-on deodorant was instantly lethal. I'm sick and tired of the hall bathroom smelling like a middle school dance. I keep expecting to hear some DJ spinning "Who Let the Dogs Out?" whenever I walk in there.
1. Candy
2. Arsenic
3. Water
4. Salt
5. Bullets in the face
6. Spray-on deodorant
As a college student, though, I sometimes find myself wishing that Axe spray-on deodorant was instantly lethal. I'm sick and tired of the hall bathroom smelling like a middle school dance. I keep expecting to hear some DJ spinning "Who Let the Dogs Out?" whenever I walk in there.
Please Note
ATTENTION EVERYONE:
Though panda bears may indeed look cute and cuddly, they are not--I repeat, ARE NOT--fond of being hugged by complete strangers.
If you plan to hug a panda bear, get to know the panda first. Ask him about his favorite movies, music, etc. Engage him in meaningful conversation. Possibly buy him a meal. Then--and ONLY THEN--should you attempt to hug him. And kissing is out of the question until at least your third date.
Though panda bears may indeed look cute and cuddly, they are not--I repeat, ARE NOT--fond of being hugged by complete strangers.
If you plan to hug a panda bear, get to know the panda first. Ask him about his favorite movies, music, etc. Engage him in meaningful conversation. Possibly buy him a meal. Then--and ONLY THEN--should you attempt to hug him. And kissing is out of the question until at least your third date.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Hot Hot Hot
Here's a recipe for disaster:
Take one (1) bottle of 151 proof rum
ADD
Bartender with one hell of a party trick
ADD
Match--a lit one, preferably
ADD
Unsuspecting bystander
And what do you get? Hint: it rhymes with "merst, mecond, and mird megree murns." And if you answered something that rhymes with "mawsuit," you'd also be correct.
Take one (1) bottle of 151 proof rum
ADD
Bartender with one hell of a party trick
ADD
Match--a lit one, preferably
ADD
Unsuspecting bystander
And what do you get? Hint: it rhymes with "merst, mecond, and mird megree murns." And if you answered something that rhymes with "mawsuit," you'd also be correct.
Beware the Wrath of the Butt Bandit
Fear not, citizens of Nebraska! The nefarious Butt Bandit has been arrested. No more will innocent Cornhuskers be terrorized by the sight of bare buttocks pressed up against their window in the middle of the night!
I wonder: in prison, is he going to tell the other guys what he's in for? Or will he try to make something up to look tougher? "Oh yeah, man, I got put away for triple homicide with a twist of arson."
On the other hand, how can you pass up a chance to show off a nickname like "The Butt Bandit?"
I wonder: in prison, is he going to tell the other guys what he's in for? Or will he try to make something up to look tougher? "Oh yeah, man, I got put away for triple homicide with a twist of arson."
On the other hand, how can you pass up a chance to show off a nickname like "The Butt Bandit?"
Overheard in the OR
-This is nothing at all like Operation!
-Hey, where'd my watch go?
-That probably would've burst anyway.
-Remind me: would cutting this be lethal or non-lethal?
-That's probably not supposed to come out.
-I knew I should've gone for law school.
-Hey, where'd my watch go?
-That probably would've burst anyway.
-Remind me: would cutting this be lethal or non-lethal?
-That's probably not supposed to come out.
-I knew I should've gone for law school.
Sounds Like Somebody Needs Some Cheering Up!
Headline from the BBC: "Global Gloom Depresses Oil Prices."
Awww. Things aren't that bad, oil prices. Take some Zoloft and you'll be right as rain in no time.
Awww. Things aren't that bad, oil prices. Take some Zoloft and you'll be right as rain in no time.
Careful With That Axe, Madison
SI offers a helpful, illustrated look at some of college football's KUH-RAZIER trophies, from the Little Brown Jug to the Jeweled Shillelagh. A few of my favorites:
THE IRON SKILLET: Awarded the winner of the SMU-TCU rivalry game. Commemorates Texas's long and noble tradition of making pancakes.
THE OLD BRASS SPITTOON: The winner of the Indiana-Michigan State game gets their hands on this prize. Tip: never, ever look inside it.
PAUL BUNYAN TROPHY: At stake in the Michigan vs. Michigan State game. One of the more uncomfortably phallic trophies out there, and that's saying something.
COMMANDER IN CHIEF'S TROPHY: Given to the winner of the annual Army-Navy game. Winner gets to pick a country for the loser to invade.
THE IRON SKILLET: Awarded the winner of the SMU-TCU rivalry game. Commemorates Texas's long and noble tradition of making pancakes.
THE OLD BRASS SPITTOON: The winner of the Indiana-Michigan State game gets their hands on this prize. Tip: never, ever look inside it.
PAUL BUNYAN TROPHY: At stake in the Michigan vs. Michigan State game. One of the more uncomfortably phallic trophies out there, and that's saying something.
COMMANDER IN CHIEF'S TROPHY: Given to the winner of the annual Army-Navy game. Winner gets to pick a country for the loser to invade.
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