US Headline: "Escaped Beaver Damages Local Trees"
Equivalent UK Headline: "Dam Lonely! Igor the Runaway Beaver Leaves Trail of Destruction in Bid to Build a Love Nest"
Now, I've never really thought of a few gnawed-down trees as being a "trail of destruction," but I really can't argue with a headline like that. It's got sex, it's got violence, it's got everything you need.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Squeaky Clean
Have you been left unsatisfied by ordinary bar soap? Ever get the feeling that your humdrum shower would be vastly improved by the addition of soap shaped like a major political figure?
Well, worry no more! The solution has arrived in the form of BARACK OBAMA SOAP! And it's one of the most horrifying things I've ever seen, if I do say so myself. Take a good, long gander:
If the thought of lathering up with that doesn't make you queasy, then you've got a much stronger stomach than I have.
Well, worry no more! The solution has arrived in the form of BARACK OBAMA SOAP! And it's one of the most horrifying things I've ever seen, if I do say so myself. Take a good, long gander:
If the thought of lathering up with that doesn't make you queasy, then you've got a much stronger stomach than I have.
Monday, December 22, 2008
It's Not Just a Good Idea...It's the Law
Uh-oh...looks like I'll have to stay out of Brighton, Michigan, from now on.
The Brilliant--Nay, the God-like--Tom Coughlin
New York Magazine offers a very timely question: "How Did Tom Coughlin Become the Toast of the NFL," when, just two years ago, he might as well have been wearing a nametag saying "Hi, My Name is Toast?"
New York does some pondering, and comes to the very reasonable conclusion that NFL coaches--and coaches in general--don't actually DO much. Sure, some coaches are "better" than others. If I were a football player, I'd much rather be coached by Tom Coughlin then, oh, I don't know, Rod "0-16, Coming Right Up!" Marinelli.
But as the article points out, "the difference between the best coach and the fifth best is so thin as to not exist." The best coach is whoever the sports media says is the best coach. Right now, Jeff Fisher is THE BEST COACH IN THE NFL. Doc Rivers is A GENIUS AMONG NBA COACHES. Urban Meyer is THE GREATEST THING TO HAPPEN TO COLLEGE FOOTBALL SINCE THE FORWARD PASS.
And next year that's all going to change. For all we know, next year Doc Rivers might be begging for change in front of TD Banknorth Garden with a sign saying "Will coach for money and/or hard drugs." In sports, 90% of success and failure comes from the players. People like Tom Coughlin should be happy to be along for the ride.
As always, my opinions are 100% grounded in fact, and are in no way complete crap that I made up just now.
Link, by the way, comes from the wonderful blog of Dr. Craig Newmark.
New York does some pondering, and comes to the very reasonable conclusion that NFL coaches--and coaches in general--don't actually DO much. Sure, some coaches are "better" than others. If I were a football player, I'd much rather be coached by Tom Coughlin then, oh, I don't know, Rod "0-16, Coming Right Up!" Marinelli.
But as the article points out, "the difference between the best coach and the fifth best is so thin as to not exist." The best coach is whoever the sports media says is the best coach. Right now, Jeff Fisher is THE BEST COACH IN THE NFL. Doc Rivers is A GENIUS AMONG NBA COACHES. Urban Meyer is THE GREATEST THING TO HAPPEN TO COLLEGE FOOTBALL SINCE THE FORWARD PASS.
And next year that's all going to change. For all we know, next year Doc Rivers might be begging for change in front of TD Banknorth Garden with a sign saying "Will coach for money and/or hard drugs." In sports, 90% of success and failure comes from the players. People like Tom Coughlin should be happy to be along for the ride.
As always, my opinions are 100% grounded in fact, and are in no way complete crap that I made up just now.
Link, by the way, comes from the wonderful blog of Dr. Craig Newmark.
Can He...Beat It?
"Michael Jackson 'left half blind and in need of a lung transplant by genetic disease," claims biographer."
Hmmm. Not to make light of this situation, but I'm going to make light of it. I have several reactions:
1. Can you perform a cross-species lung transplant? Jacko might need it, as right now I'd estimate he's only 33% human.
2. Or...perhaps he could get a lung from Bubbles? On a related note, is Bubbles still alive? On another related note, did Bubbles ever exist, or was he just a bizarre feature of that bizarre Michael Jackson video game I played as a kid?
3. Jackson has been forced to auction off his glittery glove for cash. My question: how does the buyer know that it's THE glove? What's to stop Jacko from buying two dozen gloves, a bag of sequins, some glue, and selling that same glove again and again?
4. Boy, I really put too much work into a post about Michael Jackson.
Hmmm. Not to make light of this situation, but I'm going to make light of it. I have several reactions:
1. Can you perform a cross-species lung transplant? Jacko might need it, as right now I'd estimate he's only 33% human.
2. Or...perhaps he could get a lung from Bubbles? On a related note, is Bubbles still alive? On another related note, did Bubbles ever exist, or was he just a bizarre feature of that bizarre Michael Jackson video game I played as a kid?
3. Jackson has been forced to auction off his glittery glove for cash. My question: how does the buyer know that it's THE glove? What's to stop Jacko from buying two dozen gloves, a bag of sequins, some glue, and selling that same glove again and again?
4. Boy, I really put too much work into a post about Michael Jackson.
Milkweed
Britain truly is a special country, and I mean that in a flattering sense. One of the things that makes it great is the way it stubbornly clings to ye olde quaint traditions that have died out everywhere else.
Take the milkman, for instance. In every other civilized country, if you want milk you gotta head down to the local supermarket and pick out a carton of your choice of milk--skim, whole, chocolate, 2%, 3%, 4%, 83$, whatever tickles your milk bone.
Not so in Great Britain! They still hold tight to the tradition of the milkman, that friendly bloke who comes 'round every morning to deliver your daily helping of marijuana. Wait, what?
Take the milkman, for instance. In every other civilized country, if you want milk you gotta head down to the local supermarket and pick out a carton of your choice of milk--skim, whole, chocolate, 2%, 3%, 4%, 83$, whatever tickles your milk bone.
Not so in Great Britain! They still hold tight to the tradition of the milkman, that friendly bloke who comes 'round every morning to deliver your daily helping of marijuana. Wait, what?
Living the High LIfe
Now here's a problem you don't run into every day, unless you live a very peculiar lifestyle. The Italian government seized 88 pounds of caviar from Polish caviar smugglers (those bastards!). The question: what do you do with 88 pounds of caviar?
The answer: feed it to the poor of Milan! It's a win-win, unless you're a poor person who doesn't like caviar. But seriously, how many of those are there in the world?
Other interesting note: according to the story, "Tests showed the caviar to be edible." What sort of tests were those? I'm hoping they weren't along the lines of, "Hey, Giuseppe, try this caviar I brought from home. How's it taste? Not poisonous or anything? No, no, I was just wondering."
The answer: feed it to the poor of Milan! It's a win-win, unless you're a poor person who doesn't like caviar. But seriously, how many of those are there in the world?
Other interesting note: according to the story, "Tests showed the caviar to be edible." What sort of tests were those? I'm hoping they weren't along the lines of, "Hey, Giuseppe, try this caviar I brought from home. How's it taste? Not poisonous or anything? No, no, I was just wondering."
For the Busy Traveler
This time of year, many of us will be forced to deal with the unpleasant experience known as airport security. To make your trip easier, here's a helpful list of DOs and DON'Ts for getting through unscathed.
DO:
Have your boarding pass out and ready for inspection
Empty your pockets and remove your shoes
Try to appear as non-terroristic as possible
DON'T
Give a card naming yourself as a member of the Criminal Insane Department when asked to provide credentials
DO:
Have your boarding pass out and ready for inspection
Empty your pockets and remove your shoes
Try to appear as non-terroristic as possible
DON'T
Give a card naming yourself as a member of the Criminal Insane Department when asked to provide credentials
Apologies to Ogden Nash
I never saw a purple squirrel
I never hope to see one
But I can tell you, anyhow
I'd rather see than--HOLY CRAP THERE'S ONE RIGHT THERE!
I never hope to see one
But I can tell you, anyhow
I'd rather see than--HOLY CRAP THERE'S ONE RIGHT THERE!
MONSTER TRUCK MADNESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Slowly but surely, Japan's master plan to re-fight World War II is succeeding. A few more stunts like this, and they'll have wiped out all of America's victories up until the Battle of Guadalcanal.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Not-So-Mini Review: It
Somewhere in Steven King’s desk, there must be a small, well-thumbed thesaurus in which all the synonyms for “bled” are highlighted. And what, pray tell, do I mean by that? Only this: after reading King’s “It,” I am in awe of how many different ways King can say “so-and-so bled.” Blood flows, it spurts, it spatters, it splashes and gushes and bubbles and bursts forth from an uncountable number of severed limbs.
“It,” as you can guess, is an awfully gory book. King’s thousand-pages-plus epic is more than gory, though; it’s huge, sloppy, incredibly entertaining and compulsively readable. It’s the literary equivalent of a fat sandwich: not good for you, not even good, necessarily, but packed with so much stuff that it’s impossible to resist. Like most King books, “It” also has some highbrow pretensions. There’s some muddled cosmology involving a “macroverse” and “the Turtle,” but in the end, what we’re here for is the dismemberment.
“It” doesn’t disappoint in that regard. For those of you who don’t know, “It” is the story of a group of friends from the small Maine town of Derry. Derry, they discover, is haunted. It’s not your garden-variety haunting; we’re talking serious evil here, personified by a homicidal clown named Pennywise. The friends team up to fight Pennywise—known to his good friends as “It”—as kids in 1958, and as adults a couple decades down the road.
Before they can fight Pennywise, they’ve got to run away from him. A lot. Of those thousand pages, I’d estimate a good eight hundred involved 1) One of the main characters wandering into a dark, deserted locale 2) Said character running into Pennywise 3) Said character getting the hell out of there. These are interspersed with incidents in which minor characters meet Pennywise. Needless to say, they’re a lot less lucky. They die in a number of creatively gruesome ways, including:
1) Getting their head ripped off
2) Getting their face ripped off
3) Getting their arm ripped off
4) Getting their legs ripped off
OK, admittedly Pennywise’s M.O. is pretty straightforward. That’s not for lack of trying, though. Mr. Wise shows up in a whole host of disguises, including a giant bird, a werewolf, a mummy, and—my personal favorite—flying leeches. Not ordinary leeches. Flying leeches.
This is all good fun. King’s a great storyteller, especially when the limbs are flying and the blood’s spurting. So what if things get repetitive? Whether it’s an innocent kid being decapitated by the Creature from the Black Lagoon, or an unsuspecting prison guard getting ripped limb-from-limb by a doberman-human hybrid, King always makes it readable. And very, very bloody.
The only problem is that King tries to divide our attention equally between 1958 and 1985. And while the kid-versions of our protagonists are pretty likeable, as adults they become…boring. I guess that’s the whole idea: the magic of childhood gives way to the ennui of adulthood, so-on-and-so-forth. But they’re still boring.
Speaking of boring, King also insists on splitting time between the six main characters. Again, not all the protagonists are created equal. For every page we spend with an interesting character, we have to spend a corresponding page getting to know one of the dull ones. Take Ben Hanscom, for instance…please. He’s supposed to be noble, but like most noble characters his defining trait is stoicism that borders on blandness.
As a kid, Ben’s two defining traits are 1) He’s fat and 2) He’s good at building things. That’s not enough ingredients to make a decent soup, let alone an engaging character. Even worse, Adult Ben isn’t even fat. So he’s down to ONE defining trait. Why do we have to spend hundreds of pages in his company, when we could be getting acquainted with Richie Tozier or Bill Denbrough or one of the fun characters?
I realize I’ve rambled on for quite a while. But given the length of the book in question, I feel that’s highly appropriate. In short: “It” is a good, good book, well worth reading if you’ve got a few weeks to spare.
Oh, one more thing. “It,” like most King novels, is set in Maine. I ask you: given the way King goes to town on innocent Mainers, what with the slaughter and the hauntings and the murders, how is there anyone left alive in King’s fictional version of the Pine Tree State? More importantly, why don’t they all just get the hell out of there?
“It,” as you can guess, is an awfully gory book. King’s thousand-pages-plus epic is more than gory, though; it’s huge, sloppy, incredibly entertaining and compulsively readable. It’s the literary equivalent of a fat sandwich: not good for you, not even good, necessarily, but packed with so much stuff that it’s impossible to resist. Like most King books, “It” also has some highbrow pretensions. There’s some muddled cosmology involving a “macroverse” and “the Turtle,” but in the end, what we’re here for is the dismemberment.
“It” doesn’t disappoint in that regard. For those of you who don’t know, “It” is the story of a group of friends from the small Maine town of Derry. Derry, they discover, is haunted. It’s not your garden-variety haunting; we’re talking serious evil here, personified by a homicidal clown named Pennywise. The friends team up to fight Pennywise—known to his good friends as “It”—as kids in 1958, and as adults a couple decades down the road.
Before they can fight Pennywise, they’ve got to run away from him. A lot. Of those thousand pages, I’d estimate a good eight hundred involved 1) One of the main characters wandering into a dark, deserted locale 2) Said character running into Pennywise 3) Said character getting the hell out of there. These are interspersed with incidents in which minor characters meet Pennywise. Needless to say, they’re a lot less lucky. They die in a number of creatively gruesome ways, including:
1) Getting their head ripped off
2) Getting their face ripped off
3) Getting their arm ripped off
4) Getting their legs ripped off
OK, admittedly Pennywise’s M.O. is pretty straightforward. That’s not for lack of trying, though. Mr. Wise shows up in a whole host of disguises, including a giant bird, a werewolf, a mummy, and—my personal favorite—flying leeches. Not ordinary leeches. Flying leeches.
This is all good fun. King’s a great storyteller, especially when the limbs are flying and the blood’s spurting. So what if things get repetitive? Whether it’s an innocent kid being decapitated by the Creature from the Black Lagoon, or an unsuspecting prison guard getting ripped limb-from-limb by a doberman-human hybrid, King always makes it readable. And very, very bloody.
The only problem is that King tries to divide our attention equally between 1958 and 1985. And while the kid-versions of our protagonists are pretty likeable, as adults they become…boring. I guess that’s the whole idea: the magic of childhood gives way to the ennui of adulthood, so-on-and-so-forth. But they’re still boring.
Speaking of boring, King also insists on splitting time between the six main characters. Again, not all the protagonists are created equal. For every page we spend with an interesting character, we have to spend a corresponding page getting to know one of the dull ones. Take Ben Hanscom, for instance…please. He’s supposed to be noble, but like most noble characters his defining trait is stoicism that borders on blandness.
As a kid, Ben’s two defining traits are 1) He’s fat and 2) He’s good at building things. That’s not enough ingredients to make a decent soup, let alone an engaging character. Even worse, Adult Ben isn’t even fat. So he’s down to ONE defining trait. Why do we have to spend hundreds of pages in his company, when we could be getting acquainted with Richie Tozier or Bill Denbrough or one of the fun characters?
I realize I’ve rambled on for quite a while. But given the length of the book in question, I feel that’s highly appropriate. In short: “It” is a good, good book, well worth reading if you’ve got a few weeks to spare.
Oh, one more thing. “It,” like most King novels, is set in Maine. I ask you: given the way King goes to town on innocent Mainers, what with the slaughter and the hauntings and the murders, how is there anyone left alive in King’s fictional version of the Pine Tree State? More importantly, why don’t they all just get the hell out of there?
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Proposed Rescue Plans for the Big Three
-Slash employee health benefits; workers can only pick three diseases for which they are covered, and one of them has to be Ebola
-Search for alternative fuels like wind, solar power, and pushing
-Get rid of the giant pit in GM headquarters into which GM execs would hurl billions of dollars every financial quarter
-Package every car with a free ticket to a Detroit Lions game
-Cupholders...just gotta add more cupholders
-Cut the number of wheels per car back to three
-Ask for $50 billion from the government and use that money to buy Nissan, Toyota, Honda, et al.
-Search for alternative fuels like wind, solar power, and pushing
-Get rid of the giant pit in GM headquarters into which GM execs would hurl billions of dollars every financial quarter
-Package every car with a free ticket to a Detroit Lions game
-Cupholders...just gotta add more cupholders
-Cut the number of wheels per car back to three
-Ask for $50 billion from the government and use that money to buy Nissan, Toyota, Honda, et al.
Proof Positive...
...That China may be the most god-damned boring nation on God's green earth. Or, in China's case, God's brown and pollution-ravaged earth. Xinhua, the Chinese new agency, provides a list of the "Top Ten Catch Phrases in China Since 1978 Reform."
I start reading the list expecting to find some American-style catch phrases, perhaps with a hilarious Sinese twist. Something like, I dunno, "Don't have a panda, man!" What do I get? What passes for catchphrases in China?
"Surfing the internet"--Oh, those hip Chinese! In America, we just say "using a series of interconnected web pages to search for content we may find useful, informative, or time-wasting, depending on the circumstances."
"Be laid off and get re-employed"--I wonder what hit Chinese TV show that catchphrase originated on.
And those are the best catchphrases. What kind of nation is this?
I start reading the list expecting to find some American-style catch phrases, perhaps with a hilarious Sinese twist. Something like, I dunno, "Don't have a panda, man!" What do I get? What passes for catchphrases in China?
"Surfing the internet"--Oh, those hip Chinese! In America, we just say "using a series of interconnected web pages to search for content we may find useful, informative, or time-wasting, depending on the circumstances."
"Be laid off and get re-employed"--I wonder what hit Chinese TV show that catchphrase originated on.
And those are the best catchphrases. What kind of nation is this?
A Quick Follow-Up to That Last Post
What if you can't find anything for your friend in Dave Barry's gift guide? As impossible as that might seem, it has happened on occasions. In that case, this website should have you covered. Assuming your friend is a bear.
Yes, I know that's a rather big assumption. Shut up. Who's the one running this blog, you or me? Yeah, that's right. It's me.
Yes, I know that's a rather big assumption. Shut up. Who's the one running this blog, you or me? Yeah, that's right. It's me.
Tis the Season To Give Away Overpriced Useless Crap!
For those of you running dry of ideas in the gift department: the late, great Dave Barry's Gift Guide! Guaranteed to solve all your gift-giving needs!
It's really, really useful. Take this example: you have a friend who enjoys fried eggs. But they also enjoy firearms. Normally, you'd be facing a serious dilemma. Should you get them something gun-related, or something egg-related? Either way, they're going to be disappointed.
But after a few seconds browsing the gift guide, lo and behold! Your problems are solved!
It's really, really useful. Take this example: you have a friend who enjoys fried eggs. But they also enjoy firearms. Normally, you'd be facing a serious dilemma. Should you get them something gun-related, or something egg-related? Either way, they're going to be disappointed.
But after a few seconds browsing the gift guide, lo and behold! Your problems are solved!
My Sweet Lard
What better way to honor the Divine and Enlightened Buddha then by carving a statue of him out of pure lard? Hmm. I can actually think of a few better ways. Actually, make that a whole lot of better ways. None of which involve lard.
The Satanic Nursery Rhymes
Every religion has its prophets. Christianity has a whole slew of 'em--Isaiah, Ezekiel, John the Baptist, right on down to the present day. Mormonism had Joseph Smith. Buddhism was spread by Buddha, unsurprisingly.
Islam, as you might know, reveres Mohammed as the Last Prophet. No more shall come after him. Well, looks like they were a little off. Meet the newest Muslim prophet: Little Mommy Cuddle N' Coo!
Islam, as you might know, reveres Mohammed as the Last Prophet. No more shall come after him. Well, looks like they were a little off. Meet the newest Muslim prophet: Little Mommy Cuddle N' Coo!
Thursday, December 11, 2008
They Saved Thog's Brain
British scientists have discovered the world's oldest brain. This has allowed them to determine the rough date when the brain was invented, somewhere around 5,000,000 BC. Before then, everyone just stood around slack-jawed and staring into space.
We Three Kings of Chicago Are...
From the Fifth Chapter of the Book of Cliff, the Least Known Apostle:
And lo, a star did shine in the east. Or possibly it did shine in the west. But lo, there was a star, and it was shining, probably in the east with a slight chance of being in the west. Or perhaps it did shine in the north, but that makes not a difference to my story.
As I was sayingeth, the star was shining, and LO! One man looked up and beheld it. And he beheldeth it in all its beholdethness, and as he beholded the beholdable, the very beholdability of the star did strike him to the quick. I mean, did striketh him to the quick. The quicketh.
And so he and his wife did travel east, or west, or possibly south. And they came upon a babe lying in a manger. And when I sayeth "babe" I implore ye not to make any cheap cracks about babes. When I sayeth babe, I mean a baby.
He looked upon the babe, and thus did he declare: "Hi, my name's Barack Obama and I'm running for president. I need your vote this Christmas season so that we can finally bring change to the Middle East."
And lo, a star did shine in the east. Or possibly it did shine in the west. But lo, there was a star, and it was shining, probably in the east with a slight chance of being in the west. Or perhaps it did shine in the north, but that makes not a difference to my story.
As I was sayingeth, the star was shining, and LO! One man looked up and beheld it. And he beheldeth it in all its beholdethness, and as he beholded the beholdable, the very beholdability of the star did strike him to the quick. I mean, did striketh him to the quick. The quicketh.
And so he and his wife did travel east, or west, or possibly south. And they came upon a babe lying in a manger. And when I sayeth "babe" I implore ye not to make any cheap cracks about babes. When I sayeth babe, I mean a baby.
He looked upon the babe, and thus did he declare: "Hi, my name's Barack Obama and I'm running for president. I need your vote this Christmas season so that we can finally bring change to the Middle East."
Choose Your Own Canadian Adventure
You are a Canadian software engineer. You are 33 years old, single, and live with your parents. One day you find you have the irresistible biological urge to find a mate.
If you choose to go out to a local bar and try to find a woman there, PLEASE TURN TO PAGE 33
If you choose to sign up for an online dating serving and look for a woman who shares your interests, PLEASE TURN TO PAGE 106
If you choose to drink the gnome's magic potion, PLEASE TURN TO PAGE 8
If you choose to build your own robotic girlfriend, PLEASE BEG GOD TO HAVE MERCY ON YOUR SOUL
If you choose to go out to a local bar and try to find a woman there, PLEASE TURN TO PAGE 33
If you choose to sign up for an online dating serving and look for a woman who shares your interests, PLEASE TURN TO PAGE 106
If you choose to drink the gnome's magic potion, PLEASE TURN TO PAGE 8
If you choose to build your own robotic girlfriend, PLEASE BEG GOD TO HAVE MERCY ON YOUR SOUL
Seriously, 'Ten Hoodies Hollering"?
Looking for a bit of gloom to darken your eggnog this season? Well, here's a story for you. A British vicar (side note: do British vicars do anything aside from stirring up controversy) has re-written "The Twelve Days of Christmas" to make it more soul-crushing depressing. Er, pardon me, more socially conscious. The lyrics in full:
On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Twelve soldiers serving
Eleven lottery losers
Ten hoodies hollering
Nine single mothers
Eight AIDS victims
Seven shoppers struggling
Six carers caring
Five repossessings
Four calling canmen
Three starving children
Two addicts shaking
And a poor homeless refugee
A few reactions from me:
1) Being a soldier is as bad as having AIDS, apparently.
2) What's a canmen? And why is it bad when they call you?
3) If a carer didn't care, what would you call them?
4) Most importantly, what kind of sick bastard is your true love anyway?
On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Twelve soldiers serving
Eleven lottery losers
Ten hoodies hollering
Nine single mothers
Eight AIDS victims
Seven shoppers struggling
Six carers caring
Five repossessings
Four calling canmen
Three starving children
Two addicts shaking
And a poor homeless refugee
A few reactions from me:
1) Being a soldier is as bad as having AIDS, apparently.
2) What's a canmen? And why is it bad when they call you?
3) If a carer didn't care, what would you call them?
4) Most importantly, what kind of sick bastard is your true love anyway?
Monday, December 8, 2008
You Sly Dog
Next time you assure your dog that's he's a good boy, oh yes he is, oh yes he is--make sure your other dog is out of earshot. He might not take it so well.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Where's New Coke?
The NY Post takes on the rather lofty goal of cataloging "History's 10 Biggest Disappointments." Now that's a toughie. As a history major, I feel confident in telling you that history is one disappointment after another. And then you die--painfully, usually skewered on something.
I can't really quibble with the Post's picks--the Segway, Star War: The Phantom Menace, William Henry Harrison--both because they seem pretty reasonable and because I hate the word quibble. If "quibble" were a person, I'd do my best to beat the ever-loving hell out of him.
I can add a few of my own:
Ryan Leaf--And sadly, he's the best thing to come out of Washington State University.
Smell-O-Vision--You know what I wish? I wish Smell-O-Vision had lasted a little longer, so that it could be used in shows like "Bones" and "CSI." Or, best of all, "Cold Case." Nothing quite like the smell of somebody who's been crammed inside a crawlspace since the Fillmore administration!
The Vietnam War--Sure, everybody said it was going to be World War III, but it turned out to be not much more than Korea II.
King Kong--I've made claymation movies in my backyard that were better than this bloat-a-thon. And I don't call it a bloat-a-thon because Peter Jackson and Jack Black were prominently involved (zing!) I never thought I'd say this, but "My God! How many dinosaurs can one giant gorilla fight?"
Slinky--Yeah, it was pretty succesful. But it could have been more succesful.
I can't really quibble with the Post's picks--the Segway, Star War: The Phantom Menace, William Henry Harrison--both because they seem pretty reasonable and because I hate the word quibble. If "quibble" were a person, I'd do my best to beat the ever-loving hell out of him.
I can add a few of my own:
Ryan Leaf--And sadly, he's the best thing to come out of Washington State University.
Smell-O-Vision--You know what I wish? I wish Smell-O-Vision had lasted a little longer, so that it could be used in shows like "Bones" and "CSI." Or, best of all, "Cold Case." Nothing quite like the smell of somebody who's been crammed inside a crawlspace since the Fillmore administration!
The Vietnam War--Sure, everybody said it was going to be World War III, but it turned out to be not much more than Korea II.
King Kong--I've made claymation movies in my backyard that were better than this bloat-a-thon. And I don't call it a bloat-a-thon because Peter Jackson and Jack Black were prominently involved (zing!) I never thought I'd say this, but "My God! How many dinosaurs can one giant gorilla fight?"
Slinky--Yeah, it was pretty succesful. But it could have been more succesful.
Panic in Detroit
"Why banks get bailouts and automakers get stern lectures." Please explain, Mr. Mark Gimeln.
Who's really at fault, however, doesn't matter all that much, because for both laissez-faire Republicans and liberal Democrats, the financial crisis presents a rare opportunity to rebuild the most iconic exemplars of American industry in the way they hoped for all along. For the free marketeers of the right, it's a chance to extol the benefits of the strong medicine of bankruptcy. For the newly empowered liberals of the Democratic Party, it's a chance to put environmental consciousness in the center of industrial policy.
Again, I think it's an issue of opacity. The average person--and the average congressperson--doesn't know exactly what the banks do. Citigroup's in trouble? Toss them a couple billion and they'll shut up. AIG needs a bailout? Here, take them this check, and they can go back to doing...that thing they do.
Pity the poor automobile companies. Everyone knows exactly what they do. They build cars. Everyone knows what a car is. And everybody has their own ideas on how to build one. Politicians who kept their mouths shut during the Wall Street bailout, worried their ignorance would show, have suddenly become experts in the field of car manufacturing.
So Detroit takes a beating, while Wall Street execs take their billions, tip their hats, and head home to do...whatever they do. Detroit is going to have to twist in the wind a bit more while the politicians argue about how to make the perfect hybrid.
Who's really at fault, however, doesn't matter all that much, because for both laissez-faire Republicans and liberal Democrats, the financial crisis presents a rare opportunity to rebuild the most iconic exemplars of American industry in the way they hoped for all along. For the free marketeers of the right, it's a chance to extol the benefits of the strong medicine of bankruptcy. For the newly empowered liberals of the Democratic Party, it's a chance to put environmental consciousness in the center of industrial policy.
Again, I think it's an issue of opacity. The average person--and the average congressperson--doesn't know exactly what the banks do. Citigroup's in trouble? Toss them a couple billion and they'll shut up. AIG needs a bailout? Here, take them this check, and they can go back to doing...that thing they do.
Pity the poor automobile companies. Everyone knows exactly what they do. They build cars. Everyone knows what a car is. And everybody has their own ideas on how to build one. Politicians who kept their mouths shut during the Wall Street bailout, worried their ignorance would show, have suddenly become experts in the field of car manufacturing.
So Detroit takes a beating, while Wall Street execs take their billions, tip their hats, and head home to do...whatever they do. Detroit is going to have to twist in the wind a bit more while the politicians argue about how to make the perfect hybrid.
The A-Word
Did abortion doom John McCain and the GOP in 2008? No, says Ross Douthat, and he's got the facts--or at least, the theory--to prove it. Despite what Kathleen Parker might say, the pro-life, "oogedy-boogedy" faction of the GOP isn't what's holding the party back.
Unfortunately, Douthat's solution to the current impasse on abortion is about as feasible as a ski resort in the Sahara. Writes Douthat:
No such compromise is possible so long as Roe v. Wade and Planned Parenthood v. Casey remain on the books. These decisions are monuments to pro-choice absolutism, and for pro-lifers to accept them means accepting that no serious legal restrictions on abortion will ever be possible — no matter what the polls say, and no matter how many hearts and minds pro-lifers change.
But that's not going to happen. The pro-choice movement has transmogrified Roe from an ordinary case into a "super-duper precedent." Overturning Roe has become the liberal boogeyman; it's just a plot by those nasty, slimy social conservatives to keep women barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen.
That doesn't mean the pro-life movement shouldn't try. I'm just saying it's not going to be easy. In fact, it's damn near impossible. And I leave you with that cheery thought.
Unfortunately, Douthat's solution to the current impasse on abortion is about as feasible as a ski resort in the Sahara. Writes Douthat:
No such compromise is possible so long as Roe v. Wade and Planned Parenthood v. Casey remain on the books. These decisions are monuments to pro-choice absolutism, and for pro-lifers to accept them means accepting that no serious legal restrictions on abortion will ever be possible — no matter what the polls say, and no matter how many hearts and minds pro-lifers change.
But that's not going to happen. The pro-choice movement has transmogrified Roe from an ordinary case into a "super-duper precedent." Overturning Roe has become the liberal boogeyman; it's just a plot by those nasty, slimy social conservatives to keep women barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen.
That doesn't mean the pro-life movement shouldn't try. I'm just saying it's not going to be easy. In fact, it's damn near impossible. And I leave you with that cheery thought.
Do the Time Warp
Hi, everyone, and welcome to the 1930s! Obama might as well take up smoking, start wearing a top hat, and call himself FDR. I'm especially looking forward to the return of the CCC and the WPA, not to mention the TVA.
But it's a smart move on Obama's part. It gives some tangibility to all this talk about multi-billion dollar stimulus packages. People can't see lower interest rates or increased deficiet spending. They have to take the government's word that it's doing something to help.
But rebuilding schools? Improving hospitals? That's something everybody can understand, something that's easy to see. It bolsters people's faith in the government. Obama wants to take the stigma away from the line, "I'm from the government, and I'm here to help."
But it's a smart move on Obama's part. It gives some tangibility to all this talk about multi-billion dollar stimulus packages. People can't see lower interest rates or increased deficiet spending. They have to take the government's word that it's doing something to help.
But rebuilding schools? Improving hospitals? That's something everybody can understand, something that's easy to see. It bolsters people's faith in the government. Obama wants to take the stigma away from the line, "I'm from the government, and I'm here to help."
Madness Madness Madness
Fittingly, this crazy election season was capped by the most ludicrous result of all: a Vietnamese-American Republican businessman defeats a Democratic incumbent (!) in New Orleans (!!) in a majority black district (!!!!!!!!) If you had predicted that just a few weeks ago, I have some friends in Las Vegas who are very interesting in talking to you.
Is this the start of a new trend? Are the Democrats losing their control over minority-majority districts? Are African-Americans starting to move towards the GOP?
Uh, no. Bill Jefferson lost because 1) he was massively corrupt and 2) the turnout was unbelievably low. While I don't want to rain on Joseph Cao's victory parade, I advise him to enjoy his incredible victory while he can. He is the very definition of a one-termer.
If Cao is re-elected in 2010, I will go out, buy the nicest hat I can find, and eat it. You can hold me to that.
Is this the start of a new trend? Are the Democrats losing their control over minority-majority districts? Are African-Americans starting to move towards the GOP?
Uh, no. Bill Jefferson lost because 1) he was massively corrupt and 2) the turnout was unbelievably low. While I don't want to rain on Joseph Cao's victory parade, I advise him to enjoy his incredible victory while he can. He is the very definition of a one-termer.
If Cao is re-elected in 2010, I will go out, buy the nicest hat I can find, and eat it. You can hold me to that.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Fat of the Land
Man, everybody is knocking morbid obesity nowadays. They make a few good points, sure. Yes, morbid obesity does lead to heart disease, multiple organ failure, and occasional cases of premature dying. But consider the pluses:
1. If you're ever frozen to the sidewalk, your layers of blubber will allow you to survive the frigid Wisconsin night
2. Uhhhh...
OK, I need to think a little bit more. But seriously. There has to be some kind of advantage to be had from being morbidly obese. Why else would there be so many fat, fat, fat people out there?
1. If you're ever frozen to the sidewalk, your layers of blubber will allow you to survive the frigid Wisconsin night
2. Uhhhh...
OK, I need to think a little bit more. But seriously. There has to be some kind of advantage to be had from being morbidly obese. Why else would there be so many fat, fat, fat people out there?
One Hell of a Housewarming Party
Hey, just my luck. For the past couple weeks I've been searching for a place to stay next semester. And now I learn there's a place available for cheap--a steal, practically.
It's got everything you could want in a house. A couple bathrooms, plenty of floor space, central heating, and an observation deck on the 86th floor. It sure beats the ol' dorm room!
It's got everything you could want in a house. A couple bathrooms, plenty of floor space, central heating, and an observation deck on the 86th floor. It sure beats the ol' dorm room!
Mac the Knifed
Reason 3,502 never to visit a karaoke bar. And no, it's not because someone might sing 'Total Eclipse of the Heart."
Sing Out!
It's always good to see that I'm not the world's only list fetishist. The staff of Rolling Stone magazine, having apparently given up on the modern music scene, turned their journalistic energies towards making a list of the 100 greatest singers OF ALL TIME.
I always get a little leery when something is billed as a list of the ALL TIME GREATS. What if there was some Neanderthal who could've sung the pants off of Freddie Mercury? Or a 15th century Florentine who made Elvis sound like Mark E. Smith?
But I digress. Take a look at the list, and be prepared to scoff at some of their choices. For instance: Kurt Cobain as the 45th greatest singer OF ALL TIME? Scoff! Scoff! He had emotion, true. He also sounded like he gargled with Drano.
And Lou Reed at 62? Hey, I respect Lou Reed. He was a brilliant songwriter, a charismatic frontman, and a visionary musician. Note that nowhere did I say "a good singer." Or "a decent singer." Or even "a singer who didn't sound like he was about to nod off and clonk his head on the microphone."
On the flip side: poor Joe Cocker gets pushed back to 97? Sure, Cocker sang like he was choking on a hot dog. But it was a melodic choking, damn it!
Anyway, read and form your own opinions. And feel secure that your opinions are almost certainly better than those of Rolling Stone magazine.
I always get a little leery when something is billed as a list of the ALL TIME GREATS. What if there was some Neanderthal who could've sung the pants off of Freddie Mercury? Or a 15th century Florentine who made Elvis sound like Mark E. Smith?
But I digress. Take a look at the list, and be prepared to scoff at some of their choices. For instance: Kurt Cobain as the 45th greatest singer OF ALL TIME? Scoff! Scoff! He had emotion, true. He also sounded like he gargled with Drano.
And Lou Reed at 62? Hey, I respect Lou Reed. He was a brilliant songwriter, a charismatic frontman, and a visionary musician. Note that nowhere did I say "a good singer." Or "a decent singer." Or even "a singer who didn't sound like he was about to nod off and clonk his head on the microphone."
On the flip side: poor Joe Cocker gets pushed back to 97? Sure, Cocker sang like he was choking on a hot dog. But it was a melodic choking, damn it!
Anyway, read and form your own opinions. And feel secure that your opinions are almost certainly better than those of Rolling Stone magazine.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
The Brat Brigade
Looks like the fabled Teutonic war machine is getting a little...flabby, shall we say? Yes, we shall say that.
I'm disappointed that the Germans have chosen to egregiously violate accepted racial stereotypes. Guys, you're supposed to be frighteningly fit. It's the Italians who are supposed to be lazy.
I'm disappointed that the Germans have chosen to egregiously violate accepted racial stereotypes. Guys, you're supposed to be frighteningly fit. It's the Italians who are supposed to be lazy.
Golden Numskulls
Stewart Mandel wonders why Notre Dame has decided to give football coach and Frank Caliendo impersonation-to-be Charlie Weis another year. His answer? The Fighting Irish have decided to lower their standards. A lot. A whoooooole lot.
Let me take off my "blogger hat" for a moment and put on my "pompous football pundit who knows next to nothing about the sport." Retaining Charlie Weis isn't a case of standards being lowered. It's a case of standards being bound, gagged, dragged out behind the prison, and shot point-blank in the back of the head.
Let me offer you a peep inside the Charlie Weis playbook.
OFFENSE
Default Play: Brady Quinn long pass to Jeff what's-his-face
IF Jeff what's-his-face is covered--
1) Get sacked
2) Throw interception
3) Get sacked after throwing an interception
IF Brady Quinn has graduated--
1) Lose game
2) Sorry, no other options available
DEFENSE
Are we playing USC?
IF Yes--
1) Forget it. Just forget it.
IF No--
1) Yeah, I'm still not feeling it.
SPECIAL TEAMS
Default Play: Screw up any way you possibly can.
You see? How can the Irish expect to win any more than a quarter of a game every season with this guy? As somebody who roots for the Irish--out of religious compulsion, I should add--I'm extremely disappointed. Touchdown Jesus is crying right now.
Let me take off my "blogger hat" for a moment and put on my "pompous football pundit who knows next to nothing about the sport." Retaining Charlie Weis isn't a case of standards being lowered. It's a case of standards being bound, gagged, dragged out behind the prison, and shot point-blank in the back of the head.
Let me offer you a peep inside the Charlie Weis playbook.
OFFENSE
Default Play: Brady Quinn long pass to Jeff what's-his-face
IF Jeff what's-his-face is covered--
1) Get sacked
2) Throw interception
3) Get sacked after throwing an interception
IF Brady Quinn has graduated--
1) Lose game
2) Sorry, no other options available
DEFENSE
Are we playing USC?
IF Yes--
1) Forget it. Just forget it.
IF No--
1) Yeah, I'm still not feeling it.
SPECIAL TEAMS
Default Play: Screw up any way you possibly can.
You see? How can the Irish expect to win any more than a quarter of a game every season with this guy? As somebody who roots for the Irish--out of religious compulsion, I should add--I'm extremely disappointed. Touchdown Jesus is crying right now.
The Continuing War of Man vs. Nature
It's a small victory, but every little bit counts: we have managed to exterminate Canada's white lemuroid possum. True, the white lemuroid possum never did anything to us. But he had the bad luck to get caught in the crossfire just as the war was heating up.
To paraphrase Winston Churchill, "This isn't the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. It is not even the end of the beginning. It is not even the end of the beginning of the end of the beginning. But, perhaps, it is an end to the beginning of what ended when we began the beginning of an end to the beginning end of the end of the beginning."
To paraphrase Winston Churchill, "This isn't the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. It is not even the end of the beginning. It is not even the end of the beginning of the end of the beginning. But, perhaps, it is an end to the beginning of what ended when we began the beginning of an end to the beginning end of the end of the beginning."
Zat You, Santa Claus?
All together now!
Up on the housetop reindeer fall
Out flops poor old Santa Claus
He's in pain, it's clear to see
Because he's now an amputee
In a similar vein:
You'd better not scream, you'd better not cry
You'd better not sob when he rolls on by
Santa Claus is rolling to town!
Santa Claus is rolling to town!
Santa Claus is rolling...to town!
Could I have made this post any more tasteless? I think not. Not even your worst dead-baby joke could make it more cringe-worthy.
Up on the housetop reindeer fall
Out flops poor old Santa Claus
He's in pain, it's clear to see
Because he's now an amputee
In a similar vein:
You'd better not scream, you'd better not cry
You'd better not sob when he rolls on by
Santa Claus is rolling to town!
Santa Claus is rolling to town!
Santa Claus is rolling...to town!
Could I have made this post any more tasteless? I think not. Not even your worst dead-baby joke could make it more cringe-worthy.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Drunky McDrunkerson, Part Deux
"Well, officer, I might have been swerving all over the road, running red lights, and driving the wrong way down a one-way street...on the sidewalk. But I'm not drunk, I swear! I haven't touched a drop all...well, maybe that's a poor choice of words."
Side note: apparently "drink driving" is the British equivalent of "drunk driving." Does that apply to all other forms of the word "drunk," then? And does it work in reverse? Does a Cockney go out for a quick drunk and get drink?
Side note: apparently "drink driving" is the British equivalent of "drunk driving." Does that apply to all other forms of the word "drunk," then? And does it work in reverse? Does a Cockney go out for a quick drunk and get drink?
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Drunky McDrunkerson
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?
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?
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.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Put Some Money on the Cubbies
Mike Downey of the Chicago Tribune waxes extremely depressed on the topic of the World Series. Specifically: the fact that the Tampa Bay Rays might just win it before the Chicago Cubs.
Full disclosure: I'm not a Cubs fan myself. I have less depressing ways to spend my free time, like working with childhood burn victims suffering from cancer.
Full disclosure: I'm not a Cubs fan myself. I have less depressing ways to spend my free time, like working with childhood burn victims suffering from cancer.
Operation Hot Mother
So, you've got a body on your hands. Never mind how or why. You've got a dead person and you need to get rid of them. So how would you go about doing it?
Of course, the first thing that jumps into your head is either burying the body or dumping it in the river. Bland, predictable choices both. If you're a little more creative, maybe you came up with something like chopping up the body or hiding it in a crawlspace.
But it takes a real body disposal artiste to come up with something like this.
Of course, the first thing that jumps into your head is either burying the body or dumping it in the river. Bland, predictable choices both. If you're a little more creative, maybe you came up with something like chopping up the body or hiding it in a crawlspace.
But it takes a real body disposal artiste to come up with something like this.
Whatta Way to Go!
Ah, StumbleUpon knows me too well. I ask it to recommend a website, and it spits out Wikipedia's "List of Unusual Deaths." If I were to ever commit murder and/or suicide--I'm not considering either at the moment, though you never say never--this is the first place I'd look for ideas. A few highlights:
"1834: David Douglas, Scottish botanist, fell into a pit trap accompanied by a bull. He was gored and possibly crushed."
If you can't tell whether or not he was crushed...it's a good bet he probably was. PS. What the hell was a botanist doing fooling around with a bull?
"1954: Alan Turing, English mathematician, logician, and cryptographer, was found dead by his cleaner on 8 June; the previous day, he had died of cyanide poisoning, apparently from a cyanide-laced apple he left half-eaten beside his bed. It has been suggested that Turing was reenacting a scene from "Snow White", his favourite fairy tale."
...Or at least, that's what the dwarfs claimed.
"1979: Robert Williams, a worker at a Ford Motor Co. plant, was the first known man to be killed by a robot"
AND SO IT BEGINS!
"1834: David Douglas, Scottish botanist, fell into a pit trap accompanied by a bull. He was gored and possibly crushed."
If you can't tell whether or not he was crushed...it's a good bet he probably was. PS. What the hell was a botanist doing fooling around with a bull?
"1954: Alan Turing, English mathematician, logician, and cryptographer, was found dead by his cleaner on 8 June; the previous day, he had died of cyanide poisoning, apparently from a cyanide-laced apple he left half-eaten beside his bed. It has been suggested that Turing was reenacting a scene from "Snow White", his favourite fairy tale."
...Or at least, that's what the dwarfs claimed.
"1979: Robert Williams, a worker at a Ford Motor Co. plant, was the first known man to be killed by a robot"
AND SO IT BEGINS!
Fry Me to the Moon
In honor of the upcoming North Carolina state fair: a list of "14 Odd Deep-Fried Foods." My take on each of them:
Spaghetti and Meatballs on a Stick: Docked points for being partly inedible--namely, the stick.
Cheeseburger: Sounds good, but could use more bacon. A lot more bacon.
Macaroni & Cheese: Not too bad, but what I'd really like is if each individual macaroni noodle was fried. THEN we'd be talkin'.
Cheese Curds: Fried whey not included.
Pizza: The mechanics of getting a pizza into a deep fat fryer are difficult to comprehend. However, it did give me an idea for a great "Star Wars" parody in which Han Solo is deep-fried instead of being frozen in carbonite
Dill Pickles: Why not get a fried pickle to go along with your fried burger? And why don't you fry the plate too, while you're at it?
Vegetables & Fruit: Thus proving even healthy foods can be brought low.
Pretzels: Crunchy on the outside, and...crunchy on the inside too, I guess.
Cicadas: If God had meant us to deep-fry bugs, he would've created them with a crisp, delicious outer coating.
Coca-Cola: Fried sans can (at least, I really hope it is).
Twinkies: If you ever need to catch a morbidly obese person, dig a hole in the ground, cover it with leaves, and put a fried twinkie on top. Note: make sure the hole is very wide, because as a rule we are not talking about small people here.
Oreos: Perfect for dipping into fried milk. And no, fried milk doesn't actually exist...yet.
Cheesecake: It's delicious AND nutritious, assuming you adhere to the "Eat 10,000 Calories a Day Diet," aka "The Brando."
Mars Bars: "Hey, you got candy bar in my processed lard!" "Hey, you got processed lard on my candy bar!"
Spaghetti and Meatballs on a Stick: Docked points for being partly inedible--namely, the stick.
Cheeseburger: Sounds good, but could use more bacon. A lot more bacon.
Macaroni & Cheese: Not too bad, but what I'd really like is if each individual macaroni noodle was fried. THEN we'd be talkin'.
Cheese Curds: Fried whey not included.
Pizza: The mechanics of getting a pizza into a deep fat fryer are difficult to comprehend. However, it did give me an idea for a great "Star Wars" parody in which Han Solo is deep-fried instead of being frozen in carbonite
Dill Pickles: Why not get a fried pickle to go along with your fried burger? And why don't you fry the plate too, while you're at it?
Vegetables & Fruit: Thus proving even healthy foods can be brought low.
Pretzels: Crunchy on the outside, and...crunchy on the inside too, I guess.
Cicadas: If God had meant us to deep-fry bugs, he would've created them with a crisp, delicious outer coating.
Coca-Cola: Fried sans can (at least, I really hope it is).
Twinkies: If you ever need to catch a morbidly obese person, dig a hole in the ground, cover it with leaves, and put a fried twinkie on top. Note: make sure the hole is very wide, because as a rule we are not talking about small people here.
Oreos: Perfect for dipping into fried milk. And no, fried milk doesn't actually exist...yet.
Cheesecake: It's delicious AND nutritious, assuming you adhere to the "Eat 10,000 Calories a Day Diet," aka "The Brando."
Mars Bars: "Hey, you got candy bar in my processed lard!" "Hey, you got processed lard on my candy bar!"
A Zen-Like Puzzle
Can you vandalize a graffiti wall? The answer, apparently, is yes.
Now that that's settled, we can move on to more important questions. Like, why did they call themselves the Marshall Tucker Band when none of them were named either Marshall or Tucker? Or, can a hot dog still be considered a "hot" dog if it's no longer hot?
Now that that's settled, we can move on to more important questions. Like, why did they call themselves the Marshall Tucker Band when none of them were named either Marshall or Tucker? Or, can a hot dog still be considered a "hot" dog if it's no longer hot?
Monday, October 13, 2008
Cellephant
In order to combat the ever-present elephant threat, African park rangers have begun using mobile phone technology. If an elephant gets too close to a village, then BANG! Their cell-equipped collar will send a text message to the nearest ranger.
My only question: what telephone plan do these elephants have? How many minutes do they get? Can they send messages nights and weekends? Hey, that'd make a nice commercial for Verizon or some other phone company:
SMILING VILLAGER: Thanks to Verizon, I'm always warned when a rampaging elephant is about to storm my village!
SMILING RANGER: Thanks to Verizon, I'm always able to keep the elephants in line!
SMILING POACHER: Thanks to Verizon, I profit double from every elephant I kill: I get their tusks and a free cell phone!
Wait, scratch that last one.
My only question: what telephone plan do these elephants have? How many minutes do they get? Can they send messages nights and weekends? Hey, that'd make a nice commercial for Verizon or some other phone company:
SMILING VILLAGER: Thanks to Verizon, I'm always warned when a rampaging elephant is about to storm my village!
SMILING RANGER: Thanks to Verizon, I'm always able to keep the elephants in line!
SMILING POACHER: Thanks to Verizon, I profit double from every elephant I kill: I get their tusks and a free cell phone!
Wait, scratch that last one.
Long Time, No...
A 105 year old woman reveals the secret to long life: celibacy. Around the world, thousands of nerds celebrate by spastically waving their arms in the air.
Scrub A Dub Dub
Finally, one of the most perplexing questions in human history has an answer: what makes the perfect shower experience? A team of scientists recently announced their findings. Yes, a whole team of scientists worked on this problem.
I'd really like to know how they went about it. Did they use lab rats, maybe, and just build a bunch of lab-rat-sized showers, possibly with lab-rat-sized conditioner included? Or did they boldly experiment on themselves?
"No, John, don't! It's too dangerous! You don't know what might happen!"
"Julia, if I don't try out the triple-stream HydroFlex shower head, then who will? We can't leave this sort of questions unanswered!"
The worst thing, though, is that the article doesn't tell us what the perfect formula is. The study was commissioned by a shower company, so perhaps they're keeping it secret. Maybe it will be one of those top-secret deals where only two people know the formula, and each of them only knows half.
For example, one guy knows that water is involved. The other knows how to use it. The second guy, needless to say, is the more senior one.
I'd really like to know how they went about it. Did they use lab rats, maybe, and just build a bunch of lab-rat-sized showers, possibly with lab-rat-sized conditioner included? Or did they boldly experiment on themselves?
"No, John, don't! It's too dangerous! You don't know what might happen!"
"Julia, if I don't try out the triple-stream HydroFlex shower head, then who will? We can't leave this sort of questions unanswered!"
The worst thing, though, is that the article doesn't tell us what the perfect formula is. The study was commissioned by a shower company, so perhaps they're keeping it secret. Maybe it will be one of those top-secret deals where only two people know the formula, and each of them only knows half.
For example, one guy knows that water is involved. The other knows how to use it. The second guy, needless to say, is the more senior one.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Snake-in-the-Box
And you wonder why so many postal workers...well, go postal. This unfortunate Florida mailman was bitten by a rattlesnake hiding in a mailbox.
...Seriously, a rattlesnake? What on earth was it doing there? Do rattlesnakes usually next in mailboxes? Or was this snake just a complete jerk who wanted to make life difficult for postal workers? We shall never know.
...Seriously, a rattlesnake? What on earth was it doing there? Do rattlesnakes usually next in mailboxes? Or was this snake just a complete jerk who wanted to make life difficult for postal workers? We shall never know.
Comfort Food
Headline from Britain's Sky News: "Stricken Nation Turns to Haggis." And who can blame them? When I'm feeling down, nothing cheers me up like a bowlful of chopped intestines wrapped in stomach lining.
Technically, the food isn't actually haggis--it's slatur, an Icelandic dish that achieves the amazing feat of sounding even more revolting than haggis. Says the story:
Over two days spent together in the kitchen, the sheep's head is boiled, the intestines finely chopped and wrapped in stomach lining and even the blood is collected and turned into sausages.
Remember: the family that slaughters sheep and preserves their entrails together, stays together!
Technically, the food isn't actually haggis--it's slatur, an Icelandic dish that achieves the amazing feat of sounding even more revolting than haggis. Says the story:
Over two days spent together in the kitchen, the sheep's head is boiled, the intestines finely chopped and wrapped in stomach lining and even the blood is collected and turned into sausages.
Remember: the family that slaughters sheep and preserves their entrails together, stays together!
Attention All Job-Seekers
Here's a helpful hint. If a prospective boss tells you that you need to get a full-facial tattoo before he can give you the job, it's probably not worth it.
Ah, if only I had known that before I applied for a job with McDonald's two years ago. I didn't even get the job--all I've got to show for it is this lousy golden arches tattooed across my forehead.
Ah, if only I had known that before I applied for a job with McDonald's two years ago. I didn't even get the job--all I've got to show for it is this lousy golden arches tattooed across my forehead.
Typo! Typo! Typo!
I know I should be doing something important, like saving the world or following the election or even taking out the garbage in my room--which has risen to alarming levels, by the way. Scientists are warning that within two weeks the entire floor might be swamped.
However, I can't pass up this headline: Five Million of People Illiterates in Madagascar. Yes, the problem illiterate can poses a greater challenge at there.
However, I can't pass up this headline: Five Million of People Illiterates in Madagascar. Yes, the problem illiterate can poses a greater challenge at there.
Drink Early, Drink Often
Which candidate will capture the crucial swing vote of 7-11 shoppers? It all depends on which candidate better addresses the issues important to the average 7-11 shopper, namely: 1 carton milk 2 pints ice cream coffee newspaper cheese danish pick up laundry 11 am.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Jews vs. PETA
Now here's something that caught my eye, particularly as I heard a Quiz Bowl question about it just a few hours ago. A rabbi is complaining that he's been harassed by PETA supporters as a result of the old ritual of slaughtering chickens before Yom Kippur.
On the one hand, I do have to ask if killing chickens is really necessary to atone for your sins. On the other hand...I really, really despise PETA. So in this case, I'm going to have to come down on the side of the chosen people. I mean, they've lasted this long. They must be doing something right.
On the one hand, I do have to ask if killing chickens is really necessary to atone for your sins. On the other hand...I really, really despise PETA. So in this case, I'm going to have to come down on the side of the chosen people. I mean, they've lasted this long. They must be doing something right.
Holy Oil Crisis, Batman!
This story illustrates the truth of the old saying: airport security restrictions will have unintended consequences, such as requiring Armenian clergy to take greater precautions when transporting jars of holy oil.
Yes, I know that's a rather specific saying. But you've got to admit that it really hits the nail right on the head.
Yes, I know that's a rather specific saying. But you've got to admit that it really hits the nail right on the head.
And That is Why the Lord Created Men
Welcome to scenic Petersburg, Kentucky! We're so glad you could come by and visit. While you're here, be sure to catch our biggest attraction: the Creation Museum! Yes, at last you can safely protect your children from evolution--or as we like to call it, devil-lution--and instead provide them with a scientific education sanctified from above!
Rebutting evolution--or as we also like to call it, evil-lution--not enough for you? Well, heck, be sure to stop by some of our other exhibits! Come visit the Rock of Ages, an actual 5,000 year old rock with God's signature still on it! Or see the last surviving dinosaur in captivity!* It's all here in Petersburg, Kentucky!
*Note: dinosaur may not actually be surviving
Rebutting evolution--or as we also like to call it, evil-lution--not enough for you? Well, heck, be sure to stop by some of our other exhibits! Come visit the Rock of Ages, an actual 5,000 year old rock with God's signature still on it! Or see the last surviving dinosaur in captivity!* It's all here in Petersburg, Kentucky!
*Note: dinosaur may not actually be surviving
QuikThought (TM)
Couldn't SNL have the decency to let Don Pardo out of the booth where they've kept him for the past three decades? The poor man sounds like he's about to keel over right into the microphone. The last thing we'll hear from is going to be, "And Bill Hade-AAARGH!"
Although come to think of it, that's how I usually react to any mention of Bill Hader. Or the current incarnation of SNL, for that matter.
Although come to think of it, that's how I usually react to any mention of Bill Hader. Or the current incarnation of SNL, for that matter.
Friday, October 10, 2008
The Stupidity of Solomon
All I can say is that it's damn lucky this couple never had children. That would've been quite a mess, to say the least.
Lost Plays of William Shakespeare
Timon of Pittsburgh
Romeo and Juliet: Choose Your Own Adventure
Henry XXX
The Maiming of the Shrew
Hamlet Meets Dracula
Antony & Cleopatra & Ted & Alice
Romeo and Juliet: Choose Your Own Adventure
Henry XXX
The Maiming of the Shrew
Hamlet Meets Dracula
Antony & Cleopatra & Ted & Alice
Appetite for Dr. Pepper
Sad that it took Dr. Pepper to finally call Axl Rose's bluff. The good doctor has promised everyone in America--every man, woman, child, and man-child--a free can of the bubbly stuff if Rose gets around to releasing "Chinese Democracy" in 2008.
Let's see. It took the Beatles about a year to produce "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band," which I think most sane people will judge as the greatest album ever made. Axl has been at work on "Chinese Democracy" for, oh, I don't know, ten years?
What I'm saying is that "Chinese Democracy" had better be the most knock-your-socks off album ever made, or people are going to wonder just what the hell Axl's been doing this past decade. I have a theory of my own, and it rhymes with "bluin' beroin."
Let's see. It took the Beatles about a year to produce "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band," which I think most sane people will judge as the greatest album ever made. Axl has been at work on "Chinese Democracy" for, oh, I don't know, ten years?
What I'm saying is that "Chinese Democracy" had better be the most knock-your-socks off album ever made, or people are going to wonder just what the hell Axl's been doing this past decade. I have a theory of my own, and it rhymes with "bluin' beroin."
Punkin' Chunkin'
In honor of October the Fifteenth, I present you with the Pumpkin Gallery. Nothin' fancy--just a bunch of brilliantly carved Jack-O-Lanterns (Jack O' Lantern? Jacko Lanterns?) My personal favorite would have to be the rather bug-eyed frowny-faced fellow in the middle of the top row. He reminds me a bit of my sixth grade class photo.
Lo and Behold
From the Book of Bizarrus, Chapter 3, Verses 5-112:
"And the prophet spake yet again, this time saying, Behold! It shall come to pass that a virgin shall give birth in the olden dominion. The son shall be long and lean, and his teeth will be legion. He will bring his people out of slavery, and they shall arise and devour hungrily those who have weighted down upon them. And behold again! To mix things up a little, this virgin birth in question shall be a shark."
"And the prophet spake yet again, this time saying, Behold! It shall come to pass that a virgin shall give birth in the olden dominion. The son shall be long and lean, and his teeth will be legion. He will bring his people out of slavery, and they shall arise and devour hungrily those who have weighted down upon them. And behold again! To mix things up a little, this virgin birth in question shall be a shark."
Mini-Review: Burn After Reading
I just got back from watching the Coen Bros' newest film, "Burn After Reading." My verdict: two thumbs up, with very few reservations. I admit, it's not the dark and majestic masterpiece that was "No Country for Old Men." But it's not quite as unrelentingly grim, either. It's good to know that the Coens still can have a laugh or two.
Indeed, they have at least a laugh or seven or eight. A good chunk of those come courtesy Brad Pitt, playing the gym-obsessed, bleach-blond tipped Chad. Chad, like so many other Coen Brothers characters, has gotten into something completely over his head. He and Linda Letzke (Coen regular Frances McDormand) find a CD packed with what Chad calls "security shit."
The shit in question is property of Osbourne Cox (John Malkovich, who provides most of the non-Brad-Pitt related laughs). Cox is in a bad way. He's lost his job, his wife's cheating on him with cheerfully vulgar treasury agent Harry Pfarer (George Clooney, whose beard brings up memories of Syriana), and he just lost a copy of his memoirs--or his memoi's, as he insists on calling them. Of course, this is what the disc that Chad and Linda have gotten their hands on.
Things soon escalate from misunderstanding to catastrophe to total cinematic armageddon. Chad and Linda try to blackmail Cox. Pfarrer strikes up a relationship with Linda through an online dating service. Linda and Chad try to sell their secrets to the Russian embassy, represented by the cigarette-smoking "Mr. Krapkin." Cox moves into a houseboat and plots revenge against his philandering wife. And two CIA spooks (J. Jonah Jameson and another guy, whose name I promise to look up) wonder what the holy hell is happening.
Some might say "Burn" is just a pale retread of past Coen classics. True, it does feel a little like it was put together with pieces off the cutting room floor. Linda seems like a somewhat dimmer version of Fargo's Marge Gunderson. Harry probably would've been more at home in The Big Lebowski. And Oz is menacing enough to crawled right out of Miller's Crossing.
But so what? The pieces are pretty good, and the final result is excellent. Not the Coen Brothers' best, by any means, but certainly in the top tier. You could do a whole lot worse in a movie theater than "Burn After Reading." Just ask Paul Reubens.*
*Sorry, bad taste.
Indeed, they have at least a laugh or seven or eight. A good chunk of those come courtesy Brad Pitt, playing the gym-obsessed, bleach-blond tipped Chad. Chad, like so many other Coen Brothers characters, has gotten into something completely over his head. He and Linda Letzke (Coen regular Frances McDormand) find a CD packed with what Chad calls "security shit."
The shit in question is property of Osbourne Cox (John Malkovich, who provides most of the non-Brad-Pitt related laughs). Cox is in a bad way. He's lost his job, his wife's cheating on him with cheerfully vulgar treasury agent Harry Pfarer (George Clooney, whose beard brings up memories of Syriana), and he just lost a copy of his memoirs--or his memoi's, as he insists on calling them. Of course, this is what the disc that Chad and Linda have gotten their hands on.
Things soon escalate from misunderstanding to catastrophe to total cinematic armageddon. Chad and Linda try to blackmail Cox. Pfarrer strikes up a relationship with Linda through an online dating service. Linda and Chad try to sell their secrets to the Russian embassy, represented by the cigarette-smoking "Mr. Krapkin." Cox moves into a houseboat and plots revenge against his philandering wife. And two CIA spooks (J. Jonah Jameson and another guy, whose name I promise to look up) wonder what the holy hell is happening.
Some might say "Burn" is just a pale retread of past Coen classics. True, it does feel a little like it was put together with pieces off the cutting room floor. Linda seems like a somewhat dimmer version of Fargo's Marge Gunderson. Harry probably would've been more at home in The Big Lebowski. And Oz is menacing enough to crawled right out of Miller's Crossing.
But so what? The pieces are pretty good, and the final result is excellent. Not the Coen Brothers' best, by any means, but certainly in the top tier. You could do a whole lot worse in a movie theater than "Burn After Reading." Just ask Paul Reubens.*
*Sorry, bad taste.
They Couldn't Do Any Worse Than My Fantasy Team
It's only a matter of time before this catches on. First Magic the Gathering Cards, then Star Wars cards, then Pokemon cards, and now Penn State researcher cards.
Interesting fact #1: The rarest Penn State researcher card is the holo-foil James Tumlinson with the black border
Interesting fact #2: The holo-foil James Tumlinson card with the black border is worth approximately $.05 in Canadian dollars (-$.50 in US dollars)
Interesting fact #1: The rarest Penn State researcher card is the holo-foil James Tumlinson with the black border
Interesting fact #2: The holo-foil James Tumlinson card with the black border is worth approximately $.05 in Canadian dollars (-$.50 in US dollars)
Guess the Community Ought to Sell that Lamborghini
This is why the Amish prefer to stick to horse-drawn means of transportation. A lot slower, but when was the last time you heard about a "disastrous horse rollover?"
Only the Lonely
Ever feel the crushing sense that you're alone, all alone, in the world? Well, the BBC has got some news that'll cheer you right up. Whenever you're feeling down and out, feeling friendless, just think: at least you're not this bacterium.
The Truth Will Out!
Ho ho ho, Barack Obama! You thought you could sneak your secret Muslim-itude past the American people? Well, you didn't count on the Renssaeler County Board of Elections!
Friday, September 26, 2008
There Once Was a Man from Kandahar...
If you're into poetry, and if you're into mass terrorism, have I got news for you! You can now access Osama bin Laden's poems (yes, there are such things) through Yale's library system. Here's a quick sampler:
There once was a dude named Osama
Who the US decided to bomb-a
But though they pursued
He still did elude
DOWN WITH THE DECADENT WEST!
There once was a dude named Osama
Who the US decided to bomb-a
But though they pursued
He still did elude
DOWN WITH THE DECADENT WEST!
QuikPrediction (TM)
Obama will have McCain on the ropes early in the debate, but McCain's patented "Filibuster Chokehold" should be enough to bring down Obama in the fifth round. All bets are off, though, if the VPs are allowed to tag-team.
Jet Set
Hey, check this out: a man just flew across the English Channel using--are you ready for this?--a single-propelled-jet-wing. Or, in somewhat sexier terms, a jetpack.
Sadly, I don't think these are going to be readily available anytime soon. I wonder, though. If jetpacks ever become widely available, are we going to see a whole new "jetpack culture" that'll imitate the "car culture" of a few decades ago?
By this, I mean: will we have jetpack-in theater? Jetpack-in diners? Will young toughs soup up their jetpacks and go drag-racing in the stratosphere? And will anyone ever write the definitive jetpack song? Will there ever be a "Little Deuce Coupe" for Generation Jetpack?
Sadly, I don't think these are going to be readily available anytime soon. I wonder, though. If jetpacks ever become widely available, are we going to see a whole new "jetpack culture" that'll imitate the "car culture" of a few decades ago?
By this, I mean: will we have jetpack-in theater? Jetpack-in diners? Will young toughs soup up their jetpacks and go drag-racing in the stratosphere? And will anyone ever write the definitive jetpack song? Will there ever be a "Little Deuce Coupe" for Generation Jetpack?
Ticket to Ride
How, I ask, do you manage to rack up $2,000,000 in traffic fines? By going 5,000 miles per hour in a school zone? By driving with a blood alcohol content of 50%? By double-parking next to the president's limo?
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Bizarre Google Search XXIV
In honor of the Billy Joel song I'm listening to right now, let's finish the night with a Bizarre Google Search for "give you a heart attack-ack-ack":
Agh! Kill it! KILL IT!
Agh! Kill it! KILL IT!
A How Not-To Guide
If--like me--you occasionally feel overwhelmed by all those "100 Things You Must Do Before You Die!" lists--"100 Albums You Must Listen To!" "100 Foods You Must Try!" "100 Radical Ideologies You Must Ascribe Too!"--here's a list that'll come as a relief.
Behold: "10 Books Not To Read Before You Die." It's too late for me, I'm afraid--I've already read "Pride and Prejudice" and "The Lord of the Rings." Wait, does that mean I can't die now? I think it might, but I'm afraid to try.
Behold: "10 Books Not To Read Before You Die." It's too late for me, I'm afraid--I've already read "Pride and Prejudice" and "The Lord of the Rings." Wait, does that mean I can't die now? I think it might, but I'm afraid to try.
I Made My Boat Disappear!
Attention, all readers thinking of buying me gifts in the future: I'd really love the newly-released book "Casting Might-Have-Beens." Among film buffs (or, more truthfully, film nerds) like myself, there's plenty of stories about famous performances that almost weren't.
What if, for instance, the role of Don Vito Corleon had gone to Ernest Borgnine instead of Marlon Brando? Or what if instead of Harrison Ford as Han Solo, we got John Travolta? Or--maybe my favorite--if Macauly Culkin had been cast as Jack in "Titanic"?
What if, for instance, the role of Don Vito Corleon had gone to Ernest Borgnine instead of Marlon Brando? Or what if instead of Harrison Ford as Han Solo, we got John Travolta? Or--maybe my favorite--if Macauly Culkin had been cast as Jack in "Titanic"?
Snoop Scoop
Ever wanted to go to New York City and overhear the bizarre conversations of complete strangers? Well, maybe you haven't. I grant it's not a normal wish. I don't usually wake up in the morning with that kind of craving.
BUT--after visiting Overheard in New York, you just might find yourself waking up and thinking, "Boy, I wonder what stupid things were said in New York today?" The answer: plenty.
BUT--after visiting Overheard in New York, you just might find yourself waking up and thinking, "Boy, I wonder what stupid things were said in New York today?" The answer: plenty.
Evolution in Action
What to make of this story about a Chinese duck with the feet of a chicken? I'm not sure whether it hurts or help the case of people who argue for intelligent design.
Con: If this designer is so damn intelligent that he can create the entire world and cosmos and everything with a snap of his fingers, why can't he attach the right limbs to a Chinese waterfowl?
Pro: The very existence of a duck with chicken feet indicates that there is an intelligent designer who just really enjoys messing with us. "I know! I'll make a duck--that's part chicken! That'll really blow their minds!"
Con: If this designer is so damn intelligent that he can create the entire world and cosmos and everything with a snap of his fingers, why can't he attach the right limbs to a Chinese waterfowl?
Pro: The very existence of a duck with chicken feet indicates that there is an intelligent designer who just really enjoys messing with us. "I know! I'll make a duck--that's part chicken! That'll really blow their minds!"
Museums Not Worth Visiting
American
Gnuseum—Contains everything you could ever want to know about gnus; last year, set an attendance record with six unique visitors
The H.P. Lovecraft Museum—The ticket-man’s skin sloughed off in the rough ecstasy of demonic birth, revealing underneath a hideous skin pleated with squamos plates and eyes lit by some netherworld fires flickering in the midst of a fever dream!
Now Museum, Now You Don’t—A museum dedicated to that uniquely American art form known as the pun; has been burned down five times
American Optimists’ Museum—An always-popular attraction that always seems to be half full
Mooseum—Like the Gnuseum, only 1) About moose and 2) Actually, 1) was the only difference
The
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Pop Quiz
The country song "Moose-Shootin' Mama" was written about what candidate for national office?
A) John McCain
B) Barack Obama
C) Joe Biden
D) Sarah Plain
E) Lyndon LaRouche
F) All of the Above
G) None of the Above
H) Some of the Above
I) One of the Above
J) K)
K) J)
L) Ralph Nader
A) John McCain
B) Barack Obama
C) Joe Biden
D) Sarah Plain
E) Lyndon LaRouche
F) All of the Above
G) None of the Above
H) Some of the Above
I) One of the Above
J) K)
K) J)
L) Ralph Nader
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Bizarre Google Search XXIII
In honor of my fearless equationizing in that last post, I present to you the Bizarre Google Search for "pushing the envelope":
I gotta get me one of those!
I gotta get me one of those!
Pacino+DeNiro=?
About 22%, according to Rotten Tomatoes. For those of you not inclined towards the mathematical arts, that's about 11% per superstar. So if, for instance, the producers had opened up their wallets enough to buy the services of Gene Hackman and Dustin Hoffman, they could have boosted their rating to a much more respectable 44%.
When would you hit the point of diminishing returns? When would too many superstars spoil the broth, so to speak? I postulate that when you put more than five internationally acclaimed actors into a film, you will create a unstable disequilibrium that will tear the entire movie apart. I call this "Schultz's First Law of Movies."
To put it mathematically:
If X is the number of superstars, and U(X) is the utility derived from said superstars, then OH GOD WHY AM I DOING MATH AT 11:30 ON A THURSDAY NIGHT
When would you hit the point of diminishing returns? When would too many superstars spoil the broth, so to speak? I postulate that when you put more than five internationally acclaimed actors into a film, you will create a unstable disequilibrium that will tear the entire movie apart. I call this "Schultz's First Law of Movies."
To put it mathematically:
If X is the number of superstars, and U(X) is the utility derived from said superstars, then OH GOD WHY AM I DOING MATH AT 11:30 ON A THURSDAY NIGHT
1-800-SEXYDEM
My only question: will this help or hurt the Democrats going into November? On the one hand, sex sells. On the other hand, the one thing sex can't sell is politicians. Remember those John Kerry pinup calendars from 2004? Or those cheesecake pictures of Bob Dole way back in 2006? So do I, unfortunately.
Trumpmentum
Now that Donald Trump has endorsed John McCain, how can the maverick senator be stopped? The statistics don't lie: 100% of presidential candidates endorsed by Donald Trump have gone on to win the White House.
However, though the statistics might not lie, I do. And I was lying when I made up those statistics. The actual number is a little further from 100% and a little closer to 0%.
However, though the statistics might not lie, I do. And I was lying when I made up those statistics. The actual number is a little further from 100% and a little closer to 0%.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Poor Little Rich Dog
This story is almost enough to make me start wearing a Che t-shirt. It's fine if you love your dog, lady. But tell me, does any dog--Lassie excepted, of course--deserve this sort of luxury treatment? There's nothing at all in the whole world upon which that money could be better spent?
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Bizarre Google Search XXII
But so you don't go away mad, I'll placate you with a Bizarre Google Search for "a beautiful parting gesture":
Well, it's certainly a "parting gesture." I'll give them points for literalism.
Well, it's certainly a "parting gesture." I'll give them points for literalism.
Short Shrift
Isn't it great to meet new, freakish people? The world's shortest man was just introduced to the woman with the world's longest legs.
I assume that after the meeting was over, both went their own separate ways, to do whatever one does when one is either two feet tall or has legs that are four feet long. But...what if?
They could form a comedy duo, for example. A Burns and Allen for the new millennium! I assume most of their jokes would be about how one is really tall and the other is really short. Not that there's any problem with that. I mean, didn't John Candy build a career around being really, really fat?
Or, even better, they could form a crime-fighting super-duo! The woman could kick bad guys really, really hard! The short guy could...uh...tie evil-doers' shoe laces together! And for the coup de grace, the woman could kick the little guy like a soccer ball, and he'd go flying through the air and KO the supervillain by smacking into his face!
I can see it now! Oh man, I really can see it now. It looks like I'm starting to hallucinate. Well, you know what that means: time for bed!
I assume that after the meeting was over, both went their own separate ways, to do whatever one does when one is either two feet tall or has legs that are four feet long. But...what if?
They could form a comedy duo, for example. A Burns and Allen for the new millennium! I assume most of their jokes would be about how one is really tall and the other is really short. Not that there's any problem with that. I mean, didn't John Candy build a career around being really, really fat?
Or, even better, they could form a crime-fighting super-duo! The woman could kick bad guys really, really hard! The short guy could...uh...tie evil-doers' shoe laces together! And for the coup de grace, the woman could kick the little guy like a soccer ball, and he'd go flying through the air and KO the supervillain by smacking into his face!
I can see it now! Oh man, I really can see it now. It looks like I'm starting to hallucinate. Well, you know what that means: time for bed!
Happy Decacentamegalaversary!
German scientists have discovered the world's oldest ant, which clocks in at an outstanding 120 million years of age. That's older than Bob Dole! In honor of this ant-tastic discovery (har, har), let's take a look at some other things that happened 120 million years ago:
-Keith Jackson called the first Rose Bowl game, played between UCLA and Pangaea State
-The original release date for Spore was set
-Someone made the first joke about Bob Dole being very old
-TIME Magazine named the Oviraptor its "Dinosaur of the Year"
-It probably rained somewhere
-Keith Jackson called the first Rose Bowl game, played between UCLA and Pangaea State
-The original release date for Spore was set
-Someone made the first joke about Bob Dole being very old
-TIME Magazine named the Oviraptor its "Dinosaur of the Year"
-It probably rained somewhere
Satan's Apprentice
I've never been a huge fan of Mickey Mouse, though it's hard for me to say exactly why. Perhaps it was his squeaky voice--he sounds like an adenoidal midget who got kicked in the groin right after taking a deep sniff of helium.
Or maybe it was the fact that he never took his gloves off. What was he hiding under there? Tattoos--prison tattoos, maybe? A really bad case of psoriasis? The fact that he was missing one or more of his fingers?
Most likely it was his personality, which I found bland and stringy, not unlike zucchini. Donald was manic, Goofy was goofy, but Mickey was...I can't think of an adjective boring enough to finish this sentence.
But despite all of this, let me just say that even I think calling Mickey "one of Satan's soldiers" is just a tad over the line.
Or maybe it was the fact that he never took his gloves off. What was he hiding under there? Tattoos--prison tattoos, maybe? A really bad case of psoriasis? The fact that he was missing one or more of his fingers?
Most likely it was his personality, which I found bland and stringy, not unlike zucchini. Donald was manic, Goofy was goofy, but Mickey was...I can't think of an adjective boring enough to finish this sentence.
But despite all of this, let me just say that even I think calling Mickey "one of Satan's soldiers" is just a tad over the line.
Oh, Florida!
When the most logical line in a story is "Allah told me to watch a Bruce Willis movie and walk the dog," you know you've got a special something on your hands.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Headless of State
Headline from iafrica.com: "Mbeki to Be Axed?"
Other headline from iafrica.com: "Mbeki's Head to Roll?"
You'd think one would follow the other, really.
Other headline from iafrica.com: "Mbeki's Head to Roll?"
You'd think one would follow the other, really.
Holy ****, Batman!
And the grimification of comic books continues. The word "grimifaction" can mean both "to make grimmer" and "to make grimier," both of which apply in this case.
I ask you: where will it all end? Sure, now they're just pushing the envelope when it comes to language. But what about when the violence starts becoming violent-er and violent-er? It's only a matter of time before they release an issue where Batman graphically eviscerates the Joker, pulls out his viscera, and glowers at the reader. FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, WON'T SOMEONE THINK OF THE CHILDREN?
I ask you: where will it all end? Sure, now they're just pushing the envelope when it comes to language. But what about when the violence starts becoming violent-er and violent-er? It's only a matter of time before they release an issue where Batman graphically eviscerates the Joker, pulls out his viscera, and glowers at the reader. FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, WON'T SOMEONE THINK OF THE CHILDREN?
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Suuuuuuure
A female former Olympian insists that bikinis are the best possible sportswear for beach volleyball. All around the globe, men nod vigorously in agreement.
Oh, I Say!
TODAY'S SCHEDULE FOR BRITISH CONSERVATIVE PARTY CONVENTION
9 AM: Breakfast--Crumpets with Jam
10 AM: Tribute to Margaret Thatcher
11 AM: Tribute to Every Other Tory Leader Since Margaret Thatcher
11:05 AM: Break for Tea
12:30 PM: Lecture--Will the Bowler Hat Ever Make a Comeback?
1:45 PM: Lecture--Why do Kids These Wear Their Pants so Bloody Low?
2 PM: Break for Tea
3:45 PM: Lecture--Is the Future Overrated?
4:30 PM: Remembering the British Casualty of the Falklands War
5 PM: Break for Tea
5:30 PM: Break for Tea During Tea Break
7:00 PM: Visit Local Lap Dancing Club
9 AM: Breakfast--Crumpets with Jam
10 AM: Tribute to Margaret Thatcher
11 AM: Tribute to Every Other Tory Leader Since Margaret Thatcher
11:05 AM: Break for Tea
12:30 PM: Lecture--Will the Bowler Hat Ever Make a Comeback?
1:45 PM: Lecture--Why do Kids These Wear Their Pants so Bloody Low?
2 PM: Break for Tea
3:45 PM: Lecture--Is the Future Overrated?
4:30 PM: Remembering the British Casualty of the Falklands War
5 PM: Break for Tea
5:30 PM: Break for Tea During Tea Break
7:00 PM: Visit Local Lap Dancing Club
Peace! Bread! Mushrooms!
If the Russian Revolution didn't happen like this, I'd still like to think it did. Death to the capitalist autocrat Bowser, whose clawed hand has throttled the working man for too long!
Warning: Graphic mushroom-related violence.
Backup Warning: Yes, that other warning was entirely serious.
Warning: Graphic mushroom-related violence.
Backup Warning: Yes, that other warning was entirely serious.
Umbrella-Ella-Ella-Ella
It's time for "Choose Your Own Adventure"!
You're a wealthy fashion restaurateur living in Manhattan. One day, a friend of yours who happens to be a supermodel stops and asks to borrow an umbrella. You freely lend her your very best, top-of-the-line, state-of-the-art umbrella. Unfortunately, when she gives it back you find it's been broken in half. WHAT DO YOU DO?
If you choose to take the loss quietly and uncomplainingly, go back to your normal life and think nothing more of it.
If you choose to angrily sue your friend for $1,000,000...well, good luck with that.
You're a wealthy fashion restaurateur living in Manhattan. One day, a friend of yours who happens to be a supermodel stops and asks to borrow an umbrella. You freely lend her your very best, top-of-the-line, state-of-the-art umbrella. Unfortunately, when she gives it back you find it's been broken in half. WHAT DO YOU DO?
If you choose to take the loss quietly and uncomplainingly, go back to your normal life and think nothing more of it.
If you choose to angrily sue your friend for $1,000,000...well, good luck with that.
Fear For Your Lives!
These fishermen were fools to spare the life of this giant-clawed lobster! We had a chance to wipe out the King of the Lobsters, but we failed. Do those fishermen really think this will save them when the lobsters invade? If they do, they're sadly mistaken. They'll be the first ones dragged beneath the waves, where they'll be sold as slaves to the highest lobster bidder. They're doomed! DOOOOOMED!
That You, Osama?
Here's a fundamental equation that this man seems to have forgotten:
Dressing up as Osama bin Laden+doing it right before the anniversary of 9/11+being in Afghanistan=losing your job.
It's pretty simple. Memorize it, people! There's going to be a pop quiz on Tuesday!
Dressing up as Osama bin Laden+doing it right before the anniversary of 9/11+being in Afghanistan=losing your job.
It's pretty simple. Memorize it, people! There's going to be a pop quiz on Tuesday!
Saturday, September 13, 2008
My Fantasy Football Team
STARTERS
QB: Johnny Unitas—A better quarterback dead than any man alive.
RB: Usain Bolt—I value speed in running backs more than anything else, above even qualities like “durability” and “being a football player.”
RB: LenDale White—Did you know that White averaged 7.3 yards a carry last year, an NFL record? If you did know that, it’s pretty amazing, considering I made it up just now.
WR: Hines Ward—True, his statistics might not be all that impressive, but he’s a key chemistry guy and…wait, statistics are the only thing that matter in Fantasy Football? Oh, crap.
WR: Josh Hamilton—Like Bolt, is not exactly a football player, but his statistics are too impressive to pass up
RB/WR: Darren McFadden—Let’s see if McFadden can live up to his college nickname, “Mr. Will Score 20 Rushing Touchdowns in His Rookie Season”
Defense: Randy Moss—I’ve always felt that the best defense is a good offense, and there’s no better offensive player than Randy Moss
Kicker: “But when he got home, he found they’d already eaten the whole pig! Ain’t that a kicker?”
BENCH
Jared Lorenzen—During his time with the New York Giants, Lorenzen has shown he has all the characteristics of a Hall of Fame benchwarmer
Adrian Peterson—People said I was insane for keeping Peterson on the bench. I would reply that they’re all aliens in disguise, probably controlled by the CIA.
Alex Smith—Though Smith probably won’t be throwing any passes at all this year, at least that means he won’t be throwing any interceptions either.
Chad Javon Ocho Cinco Cucharacha O’Malley Rodriguez Johnson—Because I couldn’t resist.
License and Registration, Officer?
We can learn two important lessons from this story:
1) If you're ever impersonating a police officer, you probably shouldn't pull over a real police officer.
2) You probably shouldn't impersonate a police officer at all, really. It never turns out well.
1) If you're ever impersonating a police officer, you probably shouldn't pull over a real police officer.
2) You probably shouldn't impersonate a police officer at all, really. It never turns out well.
Bizarro Bowls
I have come up with what might just be the best idea in all of human history. Fine, fine, maybe it’s just the best idea in my history. At the very least, it’s the best idea I’ve ever had since I invented s’more brownies (the result: I threw up after eating them).
In the world of college football, there are three kinds of teams. The first are the ones that regularly play in bowl games. Of course, you’ve got your elites, your cream of the cream, schools like USC and
The next step down on the ladder is the consistent mediocrities. These are the guys who are mediocre…consistently so, in fact. Sure, they might get a sniff at a bowl game now and then. But mostly they’re content to play their twelve-game season and then pack up their ball and go home, hopefully to await the start of basketball season—or at the very least the start of ragweed season.
But then there’s a third group: the scrappy losers. Well, they’re not always scrappy, but they are always losers. These are the guys who treat a 2-10 season like they just won the Super Bowl, the World Series, and People Magazine’s Sexiest Team Alive. You know the teams—the ones with names like Florida International,
These guys are bad, sure, but they’re entertainingly bad. And I, for one—and possibly even for two and three—think they deserve better then the raw deal they currently have. After the season is over, they shouldn’t be consigned to the slag heap of mediocrity. They’re more than mediocre. They’re exceptional, albeit in the way William Shatner’s singing career was exceptional.
Which brings me to my idea. What if we put together five or six bowl games pitting the worst teams against each other? Your team becomes Bizarro Bowl eligible if you finish the season 1-11 or worse (0-12, -1-13, so on and so forth). Then, late in December, you and some other comically hapless squad face off in a game guaranteed to have more turnovers than touchdowns.
But Will, you ask, How on earth would these bowls be funded? Here’s the beauty of it. You know how the current bowls are sponsored by big corporations like Tostitos? Well, these Bizarro Bowls would be sponsored by disreputable corporations, businesses like Bear Sterns and Enron. I’m not sure yet whether they would 1) Do this voluntarily, in hopes of rehabilitating their image or 2) Do this on government orders, as part of their punishment. I mean, what could be worse than having your name attached to a game between
So that’s my idea. If you need to reach me anytime soon, send me an e-mail, because my cellphone will probably be tied up with calls from BCS officials offering me a skerjillion dollars for the rights to this idea. And don’t worry—if you’re hard up for cash, I won’t be afraid to toss a couple bajillion your way once I get mega-rich.
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