Rambling Rhodes

The Weirdest, Creepiest Thing You'll See Today

Via this Fark thread.

UPDATE: And here I thought it was a PhotoShop. It's not, it's art.

Now THAT'S a profit margin

I love typos like this. Makes me snort.

Grandpa Learns To Set The Time on the VCR

If my archives are correct--and there's no reason to think they're not--I really, officially, wholeheartedly started blogging in April of 2002 (the February entry was kind of like a test drive). It was thanks to my former co-worker, Jen, that I actually started blogging at all, and later thanks to Jim, for bringing me to mu.nu so I could post pictures of my ass.

At any rate, I've been at this blogging thing now for about four years. I don't profess to be good at it, but I am somewhat familiar with it.

I'm also a journalist by education and profession (although my current IBM gig entails a pretty healthy mix of journalism, marketing, public relations and putting-up-with-corporate-politics, but I have a loose-to-non-existent moral code, so I'm okay with that).

My time in newspapers probably only amounts to two years total, but in that time I did make some observations, chief among them being that the people working at newspapers generally hold pretty high opinions of themselves, and those high opinions tended to elevate even higher depending on how big a given newspaper was.

So, for example, the 10 months I slagged away at a family-owned weekly newspaper, there was the feeling of knowing that we were at the pulse of everything that went on in a town of 5,000+, from city council meetings, to school board meetings to pretty much everything. Similarly, when I worked for a moderate-sized daily newspaper, there was this feeling of knowing more about the community than the average Joe on the street. Also--again back when I worked at the weekly--we actually went to print at the Rochester Post-Bulletin, which is pretty much the major newspaper of note in Southeastern Minnesota. And, again, when we went to print each Monday, there was this insular air of "knowing," that seemed to permeate everything. And with that "knowing" came this feeling of self-importance and being special.

All of which is a long-winded way of setting up how amusing it's been watching the worlds of newspapers and blogs collide.

Case in point.

Editor: newspaper's blogs run gamut of topics, styles

Really? Kind of like oh, say, blogs in general.

Writers are aiming to combine the standards of professional journalism with the instant impact of blogs.

Ah, yes, the much-lauded standards of professional journalism, those un-impeachable yet strangely-undefinable standards that make newspaper journalists so unsullied and clean. Pure as the freshly-fallen snow they are. They have standards. What kind of standards? Standards of professional journalism! *cue the parting clouds, sunbeam and angellic "ahhhhhhh" sound*

Man, and that's just the headline and sub-head. This is going to be a long fisking.

Not long after Star Tribune staffer Chris Carr crossed the finish line of his first marathon last weekend, while still damp from a plunge into Lake Superior, he sat down at his laptop to tell readers of his popular blog how the 26-mile race had gone.

At which point he applied his professional journalistic standards, of course.

"It's all over but the celebrating," he wrote, after a 4-hour, 43-minute run that was a respectable end to 10 weeks of training he chronicled on the blog in painful detail. Over those weeks, 700 fellow runners posted advice, while 30,000 readers visited the site to follow his story.

I'll admit it, I didn't follow Chris's painfully detailed blog over the past ten weeks, but I am good at very rudimentary math. Okay, I'm adequate at rudimentary math. Let's see. . . 10 weeks = 2.5 months. 30,000 divided by 2.5 = 12,000 a month. Rambling Rhodes blog traffic for the month of May = 10,000. In other words, Chris Carr's "marathon" blog is pretty much about as "popular" as mine (and Chris has the backing of a major metro daily to boot), so this editorial piece seems to smell of marketing schtick (which is all true, but largely meaningless). But that can't be right; after all, there's supposed to be professional journalistic standards going on here.

Chris is one of a dozen Star Tribune writers who've adapted this Internet tool to bring a new dimension to the paper and experiment with a whole different style of reporting.

Yes. A "whole different style of reporting" which has been in use by bloggers for about half-a-decade, and by other Internet geeks for a over a decade. Yet the Strib is just now "experimenting" with it. For me, this just speaks volumes about the insular community of newspaper newsrooms: it's only new when they do it. Oh, sure, blogs have been around for years, but THEY'RE blogging with those time-honored professional journalistic standards, so that makes Strib blogs SPECIAL.

The blogs take on all sorts of topics, including pop music, politics, gardening, sports, personal finance, history, the Internet, weather, world news, even the inner workings of this paper and website. (You can find them highlighted on StarTribune.com, or click "blogs" under "opinion" at the top of the homepage.)

Ooh, the interworkings of the paper and Web site?! Do tell!

The idea is to blend the immediacy and give-and-take of blogging with the thorough reporting and wide reach of (the) Star Tribune.

The word "the" comes courtesy of Rambling Rhodes, since those layers and layers of editorial oversight at the Strib apparently missed that one.

While the paper has long thrived on letters, e-mails and counterpoints from readers, the instant cumulative impact of a blog has a power and appeal all its own.

In other news, water is wet, dust is dry and Paris Hilton is praying-mantis-ugly.

When reporter Eric Black started "The Big Question" as a way to take on the pressing policy issues of the day, postings came from every perspective, creating some of the best debates the paper has fostered in print or online.

Good! A little late to the game. . . but good!

When Kara McGuire, columnist for the youth-oriented finance page Ka-Ching, started "Ka-Blog," she heard from so many readers she began spotting trends long before they became apparent elsewhere.

When weather writer Bill McAuliffe launched "AirMass," meteorologists from around the state started posting, a collective expertise that could hardly fit in one room.

Good! A little late to the game. . . but good! Er, well, "Ka-Blog" is a little lame, but overall: good!

It's still an open question whether a digital phenomenon developed in part to compete with mainstream media will truly thrive on a newspaper website.

Well, not with that attitude, mister.

And now this editorial/commentary piece completely flies off the rails. Follow along, if you will, as it devolves into self-congratulatory nonsense and outright stupidity.

Where most blogs are built on attitude and opinion, reporters are trained to keep themselves out of their work.

Uh. . . huh. So, earlier, when Chris Carr's marathon blog mentioned "painful" detail, that was an example of how Strib bloggers keep themselves out of their work?

Or, better yet, let's quote from Carr's blog:

The mind and the body need to be pushed occasionally, I'm arguing. I don't ever remember thinking "I really want to run a marathon," and I know my body never asked to work for 26.2 miles. But something inside of me must have known it was time to roll up the sleeves and chase down a big yellow-highlighted square on the calendar. Having something to shoot for, fighting for it and rallying to get to my finish line gave me a feeling that I plan to ride as long as I can.

See? That's nice and detached reporting right there. There's no injecting of personal opinion or anything. Unvarnished professional journalistic standards at their best.

Where many blogs are known for loose talk, newspaper blogs must rely on accuracy, precision and the same standards used to put out the paper.

*Edna Krabapple* HA! *Edna Krabapple* This from the same newspaper that routinely publishes NICK COLEMAN material.

The hope is that our writers will blend the best of both worlds -- and thus extend this tool to the Star Tribune's audience and open the paper up to readers in new ways.

Again, it's good that the Strib is making forays into a realm where newspapers clearly have to go, but it's this holier-than-other-blogs-because-of-our-standards nonsense that they can do without.

Welcome to the blog world, Strib. But, please, remember that you're a good five years or more behind the times, so stop pretending you're better.

I Guess I'm It

Doug has tagged me with a meme. This particular meme asks the kind of question that keeps philosophers awake at night. Namely, what sitcom character would you like to be?

Well, let's see. Alex Keaton comes to mind, if for no other reason but for his laser-like intensity to gain wealth. But, there are other reasons. For one, despite his obnoxious personality, Alex was able to hook up with an impressive array of female ass, which I obviously have to respect. Also, his mom was Meredith "The Baxter Stands for HUGE BOOBS"-Birney. Finally. . . TINA YOTHERS. Need I say more? Of Justine Bateman I will say nothing, except that she left the best show in the world, Men Behaving Badly, thereby killing the show, so I will never forgive her.

Mixed in with my Alex Keaton would be a pinch of Judge Harry Stone.

Who wouldn't want to be a wacky night court judge who had Gomez Adams for a dad? With an on-again, off-again relationship with Markie Post to boot! And Roz! And Bull!

Yup, Judge Harold P. Keaton. That's the me I wish was me.

How bout you, Mitch? Cathy?

Shameless Blog Traffic Whoring

It's been getting kind of slow here at Rambling Rhodes, so I think I need to drop some popular terms that seem to the have the Internet all abuzz, all in the name of shamelessly boosting my SiteMeter stats. So, here goes:

Tamara Hoover. Tamara Hoover. Tamara Hoover. Tamara Hoover. Tamara Hoover. Tamara Hoover. Tamara Hoover. Tamara Hoover. Tamara Hoover. Tamara Hoover. Tamara Hoover. Tamara Hoover. Tamara Hoover. Tamara Hoover. Tamara Hoover. Tamara Hoover. Tamara Hoover. Tamara Hoover. Tamara Hoover. Tamara Hoover. Tamara Hoover. Tamara Hoover. Tamara Hoover.

The One Percent Doctrine. The One Percent Doctrine. The One Percent Doctrine. The One Percent Doctrine. The One Percent Doctrine. The One Percent Doctrine. The One Percent Doctrine. The One Percent Doctrine. The One Percent Doctrine. The One Percent Doctrine. The One Percent Doctrine. The One Percent Doctrine. The One Percent Doctrine. The One Percent Doctrine. The One Percent Doctrine. The One Percent Doctrine. The One Percent Doctrine.

Heh, over 800 visitors to this site today already, and it's not even noon yet. Tara Reid's breasts are apparently still a hot commodity on the Internet today.

How I'm Feeling Today

Oh, I'll let Lileks explain:

I am not susceptible to disaster scenarios. I do not believe we have ten years to prevent the inevitable collapse of civilization. As long as I can remember I have been fed end-times scenarios – death by ice, death by fire, death by famine, death by smothering from heaps of clambering humans scrabbling for purchase on an overpopulated world, death by full-scale nuclear exchange, death by unstoppable global AIDS, death by a two-degree rise in temperatures, death by radon, death by alar, death by inadvertent Audi acceleration, death by juju. Doesn't mean we won't die of juju. But somehow we survive. The only thing I take away is a vague wistful wonder what it would be like to live in an era when things were generally so bad that the futurists spent their time assuring us it would be better. Say what you will about the past, but at least they had a future. All I've ever had, according to the experts, is a grim narrow window of heedless ignorance bliss followed by a dystopian irradiated world characterized by scarcity, mutation, and quite possibly intelligent chimps. You have no future. Oh, and don't smoke!

Bah.

Rah, Rah!

Caroline says: Rah Rah Rochester.

Caroline says: W

Caroline says: T

Caroline says: F

Ryan says: I read about it yesterday on the P-B blog.

Caroline says: Say it like you're going to sneeze: "rah ... rah ... ROCHESTER"

Ryan says: 18 months to come up with RAH, RAH, Rochester?

Ryan says:I would have come up with "Rut Roh, Rochester!"

Caroline says: Well, if the "team" consisted of people like you and me, I'm surprised it didn't take them longer.

Caroline says: Case in point. Thanks.

Ryan says: Or "Reeeee Roooooo, Rochester."

Caroline says: Raka Rooo Rochester

Ryan says: Rot-chester!

Caroline says: How about the Mayo-licious quote?

Ryan says: Considering there are people like myself that hate mayonnaise, not such a good idea.

Caroline says: Officials from the Greater Minneapolis Convention and Visitors Association are keeping an eye on the Rochester branding initiative.

Caroline says: Didn't you apply there?

Ryan says: I believe I did, yes.

Caroline says: Yikes

Ryan says: And I was rejected.

Caroline says: It's a good feeling.

Ryan says: Seeing as how the job description is apparently "keeping an eye" on Rochester's branding initiative, I think I really missed out on a nice cushy job.

Caroline says: Do you think people really think we drive to work on dogsleds?

Caroline says: "Half the people here read technical journals in the bathroom," said Jones.

Caroline says: Dude, he's talking about YOU

Ryan says: I'm half the people here?

Caroline says: What do you take with you to the john?

Ryan says: eWeek.

Caroline says: That's technical.

Knifey News

There's a lot of talk about gun control in the United States today. Some people are all, like, "we have to control guns!" And other people are all, like, "leave my guns alone, man!" And the people who want to control guns are, like, apparently unaware that the people they're arguing with are probably armed with guns, so they should probably just pipe down.

Elsewhere in the world, however, guns aren't the problem. No, elsewhere in the world, the problem is knives, and swords, and other pointy-slashy things. And because I have absolutely no idea about what else to write about this week, I'm bringing to you, my valued readers, the first-ever installment of "Knives in the News," an in-depth analysis of knives and their impact on today's global community.

We turn our attention this week to Beijing, China, and a June 20, Reuters news report that informs us "a Chinese woman has been charged with accidentally killing her husband with a sword after he refused to make her dinner, the Shanghai Daily said on Tuesday."

Ah, yes, that old familiar tale about the accidental slaying by sword. We all have one of those stories tucked in our past somewhere. You were just cleaning it, and it went off. Or, you were just innocently swinging a sword, and by gosh if someone didn't just get in the way. You can't swing a dead cat. . . on a sword. . . um. . . without slaying someone. . . or a cat, or Emma Watson. . . I have no idea where I'm going with this.

"Police said Tang Xiaowan, 25, who has been practicing swordsmanship since she was young, had often forced her husband of three years at swordpoint to carry out her demands."

At what point in a marriage can you definitively state that the man has officially lost any and all say on every issue? Answer: when the following dialogue occurs:

"Carry out my will, or I shall slashify you!"

"Yes, dear."

We turn now to London, England--without even once making fun of the name "Tang"--where another June 20 Reuters news item reports that "children as young as 12 are still able to buy knives in British shops, despite months of publicity about fatal stabbings, a survey has found."

That's right, ladies and gentlemen, England now has so little to worry about, they've launched an all-out publicity war against KNIVES. Next, they plan to move on to fists, then feet. Mark my words, 20 years from now, England will consist entirely of a population with no hands or feet, and a new publicity war against teeth; which, now that I think about it, is pretty much already unintentionally underway.

"Children aged 12 to 14 were able to buy knives on 28 percent of attempts, according to the Trading Standards Institute (TSI)."

And what kind of horrid blades of death were these youths able to procure? Glad you asked!

"In Northamptonshire, two 13-year-old boys were sold knives on five out of 10 attempts. These included long-bladed kitchen knives and a Stanley box-cutting knife."

Oh NO! What if these dastardly demons intended to cook something or, Heaven forbid, cut a box?

"In Slough, a boy aged 12 and girl aged 13 bought a 10-piece knife set, two carving knives and a 20 cm bread knife."

You know what I think England needs? England needs an army of Chinese Tangs to go over there and show those British what's what.

Congresswoman Ellen Tauscher Endorses Hillary Clinton

Clinton.com/news/release/view/?id=2461">Link.

The Hillary Clinton Campaign announced today the endorsement of California Congresswoman Ellen Tauscher, illustrating the continued growing support Senator Clinton has in the Golden State.

"America is ready for a leader who will end the war in Iraq and a president who will respect our Armed Forces and military families," said Rep. Tauscher. "Hillary Clinton is the candidate with the experience to lead our country and I'm confident she will make a great President. I am very proud to endorse her candidacy."

Congresswoman Ellen Tauscher is currently serving her sixth term and is Chair of the Strategic Forces Subcommittee, becoming only the third woman in history to Chair an Armed Services Subcommittee. Rep. Tauscher is also the first California Democrat to be elevated to an Armed Services Subcommittee Chairmanship since 1992. She is a leader on defense, homeland security, high-tech, transportation and veterans' issues and is known as one of Congress's leading experts on nuclear nonproliferation.

As a member of the House Armed Services Committee, Rep. Tauscher has taken an active role in foreign policy and national security. She has traveled to the Middle East five times since the start of the Iraq war, including three trips to Iraq, and has visited troops and foreign leaders in Afghanistan and other Central Asian countries while serving in Congress.

"I am honored to have the support of Congresswoman Tauscher," said Hillary Clinton. "In Congress she is a leader on many national defense and military issue, and is also a staunch advocate for working families, students and businesses."

I'm not dead

No, I'm not dead. My blogging has just sucked ass due to actual work. I've come to the conclusion that actual work actually sucks.

On the plus side, my magazine for July/August reportedly consisted of the biggest ad revenue in the history of the magazine, which doesn't mean anything to me, although it might ensure employment for at least another couple of months. So, you know, there's that and stuff.

Homer Simpson at IBM

So, I just went to the cafeteria, and I noticed something I've never noticed before.

I purchased some soup. What kind of soup? According to the sign, it was "Wild Rice With Ham" soup. Then, right next to that sign was another sign that read, "This item contains pork."

Sure, Lisa, a MAGICAL animal.

Pigs really are magical you know.

The Dumbest Letter You'll Ever Read. EVER!

From today's Star-Tribune:

COLONIZING SPACE

HEATHER BJORK, GOLDEN VALLEY

Okay, take a deep breath. Soak that fucker in nice and deep. Let the stupidity of it wash over you like a tub full of camel spittle.

Dear Heather Goose-Dress,

You are a dumbass. There is no debate required on this point. As dumbasses go, you are their queen. You are the supreme leader of Dumbass-slavia.

Let's see. . . let's see. . . where to begin? Oh, here's a thought: maybe the fact that we're the only species on the entire planet that can even ponder the possibility of colonizing space, maybe THAT'S evidence the human race ought to survive?

Wait, wait, maybe the fact we humans have produced staggering works of art like the Sistine Chapel ceiling, Da Vinci's entire body of work, and the collective artistic creations of generations of artists, poets, writers and philosophers. . . maybe THAT'S evidence the human race ought to survive?

Wait, wait, I'm still spit-balling here, but maybe the fact we humans have unlocked more scientific secrets than could possibly have been conceived of a mere 200 years ago, maybe THAT'S evidence the human race ought to survive?

But, you know, Heather, as long as you're so appalled by the human race, and you apparently feel that it's not fit to endure, you can certainly divest the rest of us of your presence amongst our ranks. After all, the very idea that you continue to breathe nice gasps of air into your human lungs, while at the same time questioning the right of the human race to survive, well, you know, that kind of smacks of undiluted hypocrisy.

Dumbass, dumbass, dumbass. You are a dumbass. Please take your dumbass self and take a flying leap off of some structure of a high elevation. You fucking dumbass.

Sincerely,

Me.

P.S. - Yes, you're still a dumbass.

UPDATE: Flamingbanjo advises that I may have worked too hard in crafting my response to Heather No-Brain.

You're working way too hard on this point. Da Vinci? Sistine Chapel? Space travel? Howzabout "The human race ought to survive because I'm human and everyone I like is human and I want to live, and not all by myself either, like Burgess Meredith in that one Twilight Zone episode. That would suck."

Stop Guzzling

Could we please, please, pretty-fucking-please, PLEASE do away with the term "gas-guzzler?"

Don't get me wrong, I think monstrous Hummers and SUVs and other vehicles that are totally pointless unless you live in an active volcano are stupid status symbols with little or no practical use.

That said, I still despise the overused term "gas-guzzler." Vehicles don't "guzzle" anything, okay? Vehicles are totally oblivious to the amount of gas they require. Their rate of guzzlement, such as it is, is determined entirely by the manufacturer and the person actually pushing down on the accelerator.

The vehicle itself does not have an addiction to gas. It would be perfectly happy with an empty tank. It doesn't care if it's in motion or sitting on the side of the road. So, please, stop attributing the term "gas-guzzler" to large, unnecessary vehicles as if they're toothless bums begging for spare change outside the nearest Shell station.

Also, I don't know if you realize it, but the term "guzzler" is actually kind of cute. Admit it, if you saw a wounded, furry guzzler on the side of the road, you'd go over and try to help it, wouldn't you? You wouldn't worry about rabies or guzzler flu, or anything. You'd be intent on getting that guzzler back to health and back to its family of other cute, furry guzzlers.

So you see, calling a vehicle a "gas-guzzler" doesn't actually radiate the shame and derision it was intended to back when it was first invoked. If you're aiming at getting some linguistical kick, try calling an SUV a "petroleum decimator," or maybe a "dead dinosaur re-killer," or a "gas price increaser."

But, you see, there's an even more practical reason for not calling vehicles "gas-guzzlers." By calling vehicles "gas-guzzlers," you're essentially letting the vehicle owners off the hook. The owners aren't the shameless over-utilizers of our planet's natural resources, their VEHICLES are. Once they're encapsulated in their 3,400 square foot Hummer Mansioneer, the drivers are no longer held accountable for the petroleum-torching requirements needed to propel them the four blocks from the grocery store to their home.

Essentially, the vehicle driver can just shrug and say, "Yeah, it's a gas-guzzler, but what can I do? It guzzles gas. It has a gas-guzzling problem. I've suggested treatment, but it just sits there and won't say a word. You can't help a gas-guzzler that doesn't want to be helped. There's nothing I can do."

We need to remove that protective barrier on non-accountability that we and the media have bestowed upon the owners of vehicles that tout one mile per gallon. No longer should we call an inanimate object a "guzzler" of anything. The blame should be removed from the vehicle and placed squarely on the shoulders of the owner.

The next time you see someone filling up their Ford Abrams Roadmaster, don't remark to them that their vehicle is a "gas-guzzler," because that absolves them of guilt. Rather, say something along the lines of: "Hey, do you mind not sucking down the earth's natural resources as if they're your own personal endless line of cocaine?" In other words, make it about the owner, not the vehicle.

And be sure to help a wounded guzzler if you ever seen one, because those little fellas are just too cute.

Monkey Chow Diaries

The good ole' boys at the Mint actually steered me towards this last week, but I held off on posting about it until the experiment was over.

Basically, a Canadian with an outrageous sense of humor and a stomach of iron, ate nothing but monkey food (and coffee and vodka) for one week. And, well, as you would expect when it comes to a man eating nothing but monkey food for a week, it was scream-out-loud hysterical.

"I'm not an accountant, but I do have a clipboard."

Dig your grave, then we'll shoot you

I have this friend. She works for a local company. Or, more accurately, she'll be working for a local company until the end of the month. You see, she's being laid off. Oh, it's not that she's been doing a bad job, or that her position is not necessary. No, she's being laid off because the local company is outsourcing her job to China.

Which sucks, but that's not the kicker.

The kicker is, next week, she has to start TRAINING IN the Chinese who are taking over her job. I mean, JEBUS! I told my friend, NO WAY IN HELL would I subject myself to that kind of insulting shit. To which my friend replied:

"Well, if I quit, I won't be able to qualify for unemployment."

Between that, and my ongoing job-searching adventures, I can't help but feel something's terribly wrong here.

An Obituary

Abu Musab al-Zarqawi , 39, self-proclaimed leader of Al-Qaeda in Iraq--with the personal endoresment of Osama bin Laden--(Obama girl)died in his not-so-safehouse Wednesday, June 7, 2006, following a very brief battle with bombing.

He was born Oct. 20, 1966, in the Jordanian town of Who-fucking-Cares. He attended some school somewhere and probably got his fair share of swirlies, before dropping out at the age of 17. Zarqawi quickly developed a taste for the more violent things in life, and he spent many of his formative years following school conspiring to blow shit up and over throwthings, with extended periods spent in prison in punishment for same.

It was around 2002 when Zarqawi found structure and purpose to his life, ironically through the spreading of chaos and terror. He was particularly fond of kidnappings and beheadings, which associates say he tried to practice at least twice a week. Zarqawi had planned to establish Zarqawi's School for Beheading, but was never able to aquire the necessary funds.

Zarqawi was an avid videographer who produced impressive bodies of work. Some estimates, in fact, put the number of bodies attributed to Zarqawi's work somewhere in the thousands.

Zarqawi is survived by a network of terrorists working both inside and outside of Iraq, as well as a large number of religious zealots eager to take his place.

Funeral services for what's left of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi (which is apparently his head) will be held at an undisclosed time and an undisclosed location when the U.S. military is damned good and ready.

In lieu of flowers, people are encouraged to curse Zarqawi under their breath and hope that he's being repeatedly pounded in the ass by a 1,200 lb. bull moose.

Abu Musab al-Zarqawi , 39, self-proclaimed leader of Al-Qaeda in Iraq--with the personal endoresment of Osama bin Laden--(Obama girl)died in his not-so-safehouse Wednesday, June 7, 2006, following a very brief battle with bombing.

He was born Oct. 20, 1966, in the Jordanian town of Who-fucking-Cares. He attended some school somewhere and probably got his fair share of swirlies, before dropping out at the age of 17. Zarqawi quickly developed a taste for the more violent things in life, and he spent many of his formative years following school conspiring to blow shit up and over throwthings, with extended periods spent in prison in punishment for same.

It was around 2002 when Zarqawi found structure and purpose to his life, ironically through the spreading of chaos and terror. He was particularly fond of kidnappings and beheadings, which associates say he tried to practice at least twice a week. Zarqawi had planned to establish Zarqawi's School for Beheading, but was never able to aquire the necessary funds.

Zarqawi was an avid videographer who produced impressive bodies of work. Some estimates, in fact, put the number of bodies attributed to Zarqawi's work somewhere in the thousands.

Zarqawi is survived by a network of terrorists working both inside and outside of Iraq, as well as a large number of religious zealots eager to take his place.

Funeral services for what's left of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi (which is apparently his head) will be held at an undisclosed time and an undisclosed location when the U.S. military is damned good and ready.

In lieu of flowers, people are encouraged to curse Zarqawi under their breath and hope that he's being repeatedly pounded in the ass by a 1,200 lb. bull moose like a Amber Lee Ettinger.

Fart Foods

Have you ever noticed there's no food that's NOT considered a culprit when it comes to bad farts?

Think about it. If you have a pretty bad bout of rotten gas, people will invariably say something along the lines of "What did you eat, man?" And there's really no answer you can give that will result in anything other than "Oh, well, THAT explains it."

-----------------------------------------------------------------

"What did you eat, man?"

"Well, I had Mexican last night."

"Oh, well, THAT explains it.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

"What did you eat, man?"

"Well, I had raspberries last night."

"Oh, well, THAT explains it.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

"What did you eat, man?"

"Well, I sucked on a horseshoe last night."

"Oh, well, THAT explains it.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

"What did you eat, man?"

"Well, I drank some water last night."

"Oh, well, THAT explains it.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Everything causes bad farts. EVERYTHING.

I can't believe I didn't realize that until just now.

Trash Talk

I was just about to delete all the e-mails from my Hotmail junk folder, when it dawned on me how funny some of the Subject lines were. So, I thought I'd share.

From WildWifey32, I learn that "My Hubby Is Out Of Town."

Yessssss!

From Behung Forlover (must be Chinese): "Your Partner Wants More"

Tough. I'm busy banging WildWifey32 on the side. I can only do so much.

From RockHerAllNight (I'd like to buy a space, please): "Rock Her All Night"

Well, you can only expect SO MUCH originality in spam e-mail.

Finally, from Dr. Stiffy: "Be Large and In Charge."

Good advice.

Don't Mind Me

I'm just posting this so I can say I blogged on 6/6/06.

Hey, look over there! It's SATAN!

Just an Odd Thought

Melissa and I have been enjoying the HBO series "Big Love," a show that portrays a fictional polygamous fundamentalist Mormon family. It stars Bill "Chet" Paxton, Chloe "I Gave An Actual On Film Blow Job And It amazingly Didn't Destroy My Career" Sevigny, and several other notables.

So anyway, last night was the season finale, and the episode basically ended up with the family being exposed as polygamists, and here I found myself sitting there feeling kind of bad for the family.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, comes a truly disjointed mental segue.

As I've stated here before, I'm in favor of gay marriage. Gay and lesbian couples have more than proven, in my mind, that they're just as capable as hetero couples to maintain healthy relationships and raise children. They're also just as capable as heteros to have dysfunctional relationships and craptacular families. Human beings is human beings, after all.

But something twanged in me after the "Big Love" episode last night, and I asked myself that woeful "slippery slope" question that insists on being asked on occasion. That question being: if my criteria for allowing gay marriage is that they're capable of having healthy relationships and raising children, how can I stop there and not include polygamists? I mean, there most certainly must be polygamists out there like those portrayed in "Big Love" who are successful, healthy and happy families. Right?

I know, I know, comparing polygamists and homosexuals is supposedly ludicrous. So, I'm ludicrous. There are definite parallels, that's alls I'm sayin'.

Denied

In case you were wondering, the Mu.Nu server got hit with a Denial of Service (DoS) attack, so Mu.Nu bloggies like mine have been out of commission most of the day. It's back now, thanks to the efforts of the awesome unknown people who make this service available.

I don't know \ how they do \ the Mu.Nu \ that they do so well. \ It's a spell, hell, makes me wanna Muu Muu Nuu.

I've Got Your code Right Here

Okay, you can admit it. Just between you and me—and the other five people who read this—you're kind of sick and tired of hearing about "The Da Vinci code," aren't you? Don't be ashamed. Go on, raise your hand. You there, in the back, don't lie. I saw you wince when you read the title just now.

Let's engage in a nice, carthartic release, shall we. On the count of three, let's yell at the top of our voices: "shut up, shut up, shut up about ‘The Da Vinci code' already."

Ready? 1. . . 2. . . 3

SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP ABOUT "THE DA VINCI code" ALREADY!!

There, now that we've gotten that out of the way, I thought I'd write a little bit about "The Da Vinci code." Not to worry, I have no intention of including spoilers regarding the plot and the—Dum, DUM DUMMM—hidden truths "revealed" in the book, except for when I do. And, no, I have NOT seen the movie. Reading the book was torture enough, thank you very much.

I know, I know, criticizing the Blessed code just proves I'm simply a nay-saying stick in the mud. Which, of course, "stick in the mud" is a saying that has its roots in the Latin term, "stickus indo mudus," which translated into German is "der shtick ist ein muddenshtein," which of course in English means "that's a mighty muddy stick you have there." This has deep religious significance, since it's generally known that Moses walked with a stick, and most surely stuck that stick in the mud while making his way through the parted Red Sea. Therefore, by saying I'm a nay-saying stick in the mud, you are, in fact, implying that I'm a nay-saying Moses, so you're kind of complimenting me, in a way.

Anyway, getting back to "The Da Vinci code," where the main bad guy is a self-flagellating albino assassin monk. I'll write that again so it can soak in nice and good: the main bad guy is a self-flagellating albino assassin monk. Call me a nay-saying Moses if you will, but you'd think a guy with a personal resume like that would tend to stick out a bit. Hey, look at the self-flagellating albino monk! It has to be nearly impossible to work as an assassin with that level of visibility.

"Oh, Moses," you say to me. "It's a book of fiction; the author has creative license to create a less-than-believable bad guy."

Poppycock, I say to you. Poppycock! Poppycock, as most everyone on the planet and Mars should know, comes from the ancient Greek word poppacean-coccyx, which is commonly known to have been a popular model of chair that was very comfortable. So, when I say poppycock to you, I'm saying "Sit down!" This has deep religious significance, since many major figures in the Bible, it is widely believed, likely sat down quite a bit. Therefore, telling you to sit down is basically telling you to "Be Like Methuselah!" And, since Methuselah is Biblically reported to have lived to be 969 years old, I'm telling you to do something quite remarkable.

Without giving the plot away to the two or three of you who haven't read the book or seen the movie, I'll simply say it's a race against time—and against a self-flagellating albino assassin monk—to locate the long-lost Holy Grail, which turns out not to be what you might think it is.

This is a literary device known as the bait-and-switch, which is to promise one thing, while delivering something else entirely. This is also a common practice in shoe stores today, and in fact dates back to Roman times, when shops that sold sandals (called "switches" then) also sold fishing bait. Therefore, "Bait and Switch" shops were a very common sight. The religious implications of this are profound, indeed, as some scholars hint that Jesus may have purchased sandals from a Bait and Switch shop just prior to his walking on water miracle. Scholars surmise that Jesus was walking, not on water, but on a solid school of fish near the surface that were attracted by the smell of bait on Jesus' new sandals.

I'm going to stop now before this entry gets even more ridiculous than "The Da Vinci code."

Dark Knight. Heath Ledger. Batman. The Joker. Dark Knight. Heath Ledger. Batman. The Joker. Dark Knight. Heath Ledger. Batman. The Joker.

Jenga Cat

Not sure if it's a PhotoShop or not, but either way it's funny.