This Time It's A Little Creepy

The Ohio crazies seem to be breaking their meds in half. Take the whole pill people!

In Cleveland, the MAN went to a house to serve a warrant. An 80 year old woman denied them entrance to the home and said her mother was sleeping. When they finally persuaded her to allow them inside the house (I'm guessing this "persuasion" involved cursing, gun brandishment and threats to the door) they discovered that her Mom was a skeleton.

How'd you like to have the cop who had to pull that blanket back and find a skeleton? I'm guessing that person is going to have nightmares and need a little liquid therapy for a while.

And while they didn't release the 80 year old's name, I'm guessing it's Bates.

Best part of the story, the warrant was for "housing and health code violations." Ewwww. Yeah, that poor cop is definite going to need a leave of absence.

I'm Not Drunk, I'm Fighting Cancer

If this isn't an excuse to drink 17 beers, I don't know what is.

If you're a Beaver, make sure you buy Mad Scientist Fred Stevens a beer or 17 over at the College of Pharmacy.

Funky Fred is studying a compound called xanthohumol. Xanthohumol is one of a series of flavonoids. Flavonoids are thought to trigger cell death to control growth. Thus, your prostate shouldn't swell. Many people don't know that flavonoids are a secret ingredient of Duff Beer. Enough getting our geek on. If you want all the science, go read the article, Einstein.

Not all of Fred's ideas are good ones. He suggests that drug companies could develop pills containing concentrated doses of flavonoid. Don't be such a nerd, Fred! That would keep us from needing to drink 17 beers.

At the very least, you ought to get to have a couple of beers before you get your prostate checked. Is it smaller now? *drinking* How about now? *drinking* Now? *yet more drinking*

This weekend do your prostate proud, kids! Prostate Pride sounds like a pretty good t-shirt.

At Least It's Not Four Dead in Ohio

We have an amazing thing today! It's all thanks to the power of the interweb and one of the guys in Berea who actually lived to tell the tale.

You may remember when some folks in Ohio lit off a jillion sparklers all at one time. It ended badly then. And according to reports, it was between 50 and 200 sparklers before it exploded.

We have it on good authority from someone I'll call Berea Boy that it's worked before. He left a comment on an old post and gave us video goodness to prove it can be done. That's not even the most they've lit off. They keep working up to about 500.

Here's the swell link.

I wish Berea Boy had provided a bit more info, so I'm hoping he'll come back to the foolishness that is this blog and enlighten us about the past hijinx.

• Was alcohol involved?
• What went wrong this time?
• Where do you buy a that many sparklers?
• Was he hurt in the explosion?
• If yes, what were the extent of the injuries?
• How 'bout your co-conspirators? Are they okay?
• You're doing this again next July 4th aren't you?

Now I'll confess to having more than a passing interest in pyrotechnics. I have worked in a fireworks factory. And I've managed to put on displays that did result in fires. No explosions, but I did burn some bushes one summer. And I've also emptied all of the powder out of my brother's model rocket engines so my friends and I could play Kiss. Luckily, Toby's eyebrows eventually grew back.

So I feel your pain, Berea Boy. One great experiment gone wrong and you're labeled. Your gang is probably called the Explosion Guys or Sparkler Guys now. You shag one sheep and suddenly you're Tom the Sheep Shagger.

Hats off to you, Berea Boy. Keep the antics coming!

Batwoman Comes Out of Her Cave Today

I know you've all been eagerly awaiting the debut of the new Batwoman comic. It's today!

And while you've probably been camping out waiting for the ComiCave to open early, you still had time to come read this. Thanks, kids. You're the best. I'm sure you're as excited about the prospect of a Lesbian superhero as I am. Unless, of course, you're counting Wonder Woman already.

While some people in the media are content to merely speculate about Batwoman's gayness, thanks to this reporter's extensive network of operatives, I've been able to score an advance copy of the comic book. Oh, sorry, graphic novel. Thanks for the correction, geek.

In this first issue, Batwoman has to recover the sofa-sized check from an LPGA event when it's stolen by the arch-villian The Flannel. The Flannel is initially able to avoid capture by blending into the crowd at a WNBA game but is later caught when she attends Comic-Con dressed as Xena the Warrior Princess. And she didn't even get to meet the cast of Viking Quest or Johnny Drama.

Future Batwoman adventures include price fixing at an antique store, finding just the right Chardonnay to go with fish, someone stealing a pair of Birkenstocks and a biased umpire at the softball tournament.

Oprah and Gail have also issued a press release saying they've never even met Batwoman. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Enjoy all the lesbian crime fighting action kids. Pow, Biff, Bam.

Round on the End and Hi in the Middle

Ohio now has mutant kitties.

Run for the hills!

I'm so going to have nightmares now.

There must be something in the water in Ohio that makes them all crazy and mutanty.

Do you think he eats twice as much?

This Just In From Ohio

I got nothing this morning. It's Africa hot in the great, grey North and I'm completely unprepared. A big hunk of sugar like me just melts in weather like this. Even driving with the top down and eating ice cream wasn't enough to cool me off so I could come up with some witty repartee. So in the event of heat brain cramp, go with your old standby--making fun of Ohio nutjobs.

This is pretty hard to believe. You know those swell live on the scene reports you see on tv. Well they may be staged. I'm shocked to find gambling in Casablanca. Even more so to find it in Ohio.

In Norwalk, Ohio, television camerman Gary Abrahamsen of WEWS in Cleveland (and yes, you should be hearing that in the voice of Ted Baxter to make it more tv sounding) allegedly asked a couple of teenagers to ride their bikes through some floodwaters. And in return, they'd get to be on tv! Wow, a real live tv appearance! Woo hoo!

Due to some kind of archaic Ohio legal mumbo jumbo, intrepid cameraman Gary Abrahamsen got in trouble for this. He paid a fine of $145 to settle a charge of misdemeanor disorderly conduct. And he was just making swell tv.

Now I don't know what type of conduct is considered misdemeanorish or disorderly in Ohio, but to fine this swell tv type just for talking some teenagers into riding into floodwaters seems a bit extreme. I mean it was for tv for crying out loud.

And since they made their own reporter go into the water as well, it couldn't have been that dangerous. You can't get into any trouble with electronic equipment around water, can you?

I'm just proud to live in a country that allows us to do stupid stuff and put in on television. Especially Ohioans doing stupid stuff on Ohio television.

Now do we have any more shots of people I don't know getting hit in the groin? Man, that swell kind of tv never gets old.

My Life Amongst the Squinty-Eyed Carny Folk

While some people are enjoying microbrew and famous authors, I dwell in the hinterland.

People who have never been to Michigan think it's is all about Detroit. Motown. Hockeytown. Where the weak are killed and eaten. It's all suburban sprawl because everyone has a car and no one actually lives in Detroit.

But outside of the land of eternal suburbia, there are the wilds of Michigan. The place where Hemingway vacationed as a kid and learned to hunt and fish. The Upper Peninsula (or U.P for short) has no one up there. It's a vast wilderness. And in the rest of the state it's either waterfront or farm land. And I'm in the farmland.

I've delayed writing about this because it didn't go well for someone I really like. His name is Mike Birbiglia and he's very funny. He even has a Secret Public Journal that he'll let you read and listen to.

Now because I live with the hicks in the sticks, we have our comedy shows outdoors.
At the fairgrounds.
The day before the tractor pull starts.
No, I'm not making any of this up.

And the lineup was very good. Dan St. Paul who does a great bit about the first baseball game ever broadcast (with a dead on Harry Caray impression), Tim Bedore (chronicler of the animal conspiracy), Tim Cavanagh (the master of the one minute song) and Mike Birbiglia. They're all great and if you get the chance to see them, please do so.

But the stage set up was very oddly. It was a covered grandstand but they had the stage on the infield. And yes, the tractors that would be a pullin' later in the week were already out on the rest of the field. So yes, there were comedians and behind them were a couple of trailers/dressing rooms and behind that there were an odd assortment of John Deere tractors.

And because it was at the fairgrounds, they had beer. And I'm not talking normal beer. They only sold Jethro-sized draft beer in 32 oz gigantor glasses or 16 oz tall boys. Now I'm never one to complain that there's too much beer. That's an uptown problem. But a comedy show (unlike the interweb) isn't really meant to be interactive. So when the audience begins to participate (usually by yelling inarticulate, rambling incoherencies at the professional comedian) it won't go well.

And some woman decided that she'd start yelling at Mike Birbiglia. I don't know what conversation was happening in her head, but it didn't make a lot of sense to the audience or to Mike. And Mike politely tried to tell her that he's there to tell his funny stories to everyone not just her. If she'd let him do that, maybe he could talk to her later. Which only resulted in more incoherencies. This exchange went on for about 4 minutes. Which in a really uncomfortable setting that involves several thousand people lasts forever.

Now Mike has the rare ability take any awkward situation and make it even more awkward. He tells a story about how when he was moving into an apartment, a lady let him in because he had his bed with him. She said, "I'll let you in because a rapist wouldn't bring his own bed." Now the correct response is nothing. But he said, "Oh, you'd be surprised." Like I said, the ability to make any awkward situation even more awkward.

I always thought the standard response to any heckler was, "Hey, I'm trying to work up here. I don't come down to where you work and slap the dick out of your mouth."

But Mike didn't go with the standard response and tried to reason with her. He asked if she could just wait a bit to express her great enthusiam and let him go on. And I just don't think she was in a reasoning mood. Eventually her friends quieted her down, or she fell asleep or fell through the grandstand and hit her head and died a painful death. But you could tell it flustered Mike.

And he didn't seem to deal with it very well and never really got back on track. I just felt sorry for him because he could never get his rhythm back or the crowd back.

I've never really felt sorry for a performer before. Even mimes. I mean they're in that imaginary box by choice.

But I felt sorry for Mike that night. I hope he comes back because he's really funny. But he probably just thinks that farmers are stupid drunks who won't even let him tell his swell stories.
We apologize for the drunk lady everywhere Mike. Come back, Mike. Come back.

Get a Location on Boris & Natasha

If you live in Romania, I pity you. Because apparently your Senators are even worse than ours.

Corneliu Vadim Tudor said that flooding last year in Romania was due to a metereological attack. Tudor wouldn't name the country behind the attacks but mentioned "a great power east of Romania which is increasingly annoyed by Bucharest's policies on the Black Sea region."

He continued with, "Ixnay on the Ussianrays." Okay, I made that last part up.

And sure this guy is either crazy, playing Machiavellian politics to distract his internal constituents with a fictional external foe or both. But how do we know he's wrong? If the Russkies could monkey with Romanian weather, why couldn't they do it in Pennsylvania?

Run for the hills! And bring your inflatable raft and swim fins. You're going to need them. And tovarich? I'd like a little less humidity this weekend. It's not the heat, it's the stupidity.

The Freshman Whisperer

Not everyone understands the wisdom of Mr. Stick.

Some people are so good at protecting their child from reality that college orientations are having to provide the most basic common sense warnings.

Yup, our next generation is so coddled by Mumsy and Poppop that they lack the street smarts needed to get along in real life.

So real live colleges like the University of Massachusetss, Tufts and Boston University have to give the following basic advice for college orientation:

• Don't try to walk across frozen rivers
• Don't play on the train tracks
• Don't drink until you die
• Don't post naked pictures of yourself on MySpace
• Don't lose all your money playing online poker

I wish I'd have known kids like this when I was in school. Because I could have taken all their money playing poker and then bet them double or nothing they couldn't walk across the river.

Because our latest generation is so lacking in street smarts, I thought I'd give them some additional advice:

• Use a condom
• Ignore anything your academic advisor says
• You're not going to open up a little Philosophy Shop
• No one who wants to be your friend the first two weeks of school is really your friend
• No one really cares if you look different
• None of this really matters
• No one cares what you did in high school
• Seriously, use a condom
• Don't obsess about your grades
• Who says you have to like them?
• Just get up and go to class already

I'm sure there are other bits of advice for college kids. I wish someone would have told me what a waste those two years of Russian would be.

The Child Whisperer

What up, llamas?

I'm often asked for parenting advice. Perhaps it's my keen observation of human behavior. Perhaps it's because I've been smart enough to avoid the guttersnipes in my personal life. Perhaps it's because I'm a gigantic man-child and know how the little buggers think.

But often my friends who are cursed with dependents come to me and ask, "My kid is doing something that's driving me crazy. How can I make the little turd stop it already?"

Now because it's obvious the parent is agitated, I patiently take the child aside and sit down and look him or her in the eyes. It's important to make sure I have their attention. Then I'll introduce them to my friend. My friend is Mr. Stick. Then I'll calmly explain that if they don't knock it off, I'm going to beat them with Mr. Stick until they stop. Be sure to whisper. You don't want to worry the parent. It's what is best for both them and the urchin.

Sure every now and then some kid wants to test me. Or maybe the kid tries to squeal that I've just threatened them with Mr. Stick. The parents and I just laugh and comment about how vivid the little moppet's imagination is. But a little stick session lets a kid know who is the boss. No, not Tony Danza.

This can happen is you don't believe in the power of Mr. Stick. Or this if you prefer peanut butter.

These kids need to meet Mr. Stick. Mr. Stick is the boss. And you'd better get the hell off Mr. Stick's yard.

Circus Love

"Last call," announced the barkeep and then their eyes did meet,
Betty the Bearded Lady and Tom the 4-inch Freak.

Tom lowered his voice and made a pass, "What are you doing later?"
Betty said, as she stroked her beard, "Nothing, sweet potater."

People pointed. Jokes were made. But it fell on four deaf ears.
Tom thrust his tiny shoulders back and ignored the painful jeers.

"Betty," he said, "the world can be such a cruel unfeeling place."
She said, "I know, my little punkin," and kissed his tiny face.

She carried him through the parking lot to the woods that lay beyond.
Never before had either felt such an instant common bond.

"Betty," he said gazing down at his tiny platform shoe,
"Tonight I would like nothing more than to make sweet love to you."

She said, "I'm a virgin."
He said, "So am I."

She said, "Don't you think that's weird?"
He said, "Not really. I'm four inches tall and, you know, you got the beard."

She pressed him close against her bosom. He inhaled her perfumed air.
He covered her neck with little hickies and stroked her facial hair.

The moonlight danced off his cowboy hat. She giggled and she swayed.
She undid his tiny rhinestone belt. A cricket looked away.

She set him down, unzipped her dress still tipsy from the booze.
She tripped pulling off her panties and crushed him with her shoes.

Bearded Betty never married.

Her mistake sure took its toll.
She still owns that pair of shoes

And Tom's still in her soul.

I wish I could take credit for that. I can't. It's from the genius that is Paul Gilmartin.
Or listen to it if you want.

All About The Girls

It's a brief respite from crazy Ohio news today. But don't think I'm tapped out. There's always more crazy Ohioans on the horizoans.

I absolutely love this country. Where else can someone take a crazy idea and make money off of it? If you're looking for an adjustable bra (and who isn't?), here's the product for you.

According to the product's inventor, Karey Weyenberg: "Clevacious offers something no other bra on the market offers, adjustability around the ribcage for a perfect fit, the ability to move and hold breasts in position so they are more proportioned and the option of enhancing cleavage." Don't believe the puffery? Try their interactive product demonstration.

This product was recently written up in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinal.

Quote of the story: "I love the fact I have the option - during the day you keep the girls in, and at night you break them out," said a woman who I don't care about other than that she gives a great quote and refers to her mammaries as "the girls."

I just hope the Small Business Administration is giving Karey Weyenberg all the support she needs. It's difficult for a start up business to climb the mountains of paperwork needed to be successful and you've got to be able to bounce back from adversity. She probably ought to move the business to CoCo Beach where the climate is even more cleavacious than Wisconsin.

She could also get out of that Jeep and get some Winnebagoes to make her product mobile. This is going to be huge. She's got to strap in and get ready for a bumpy ride. There are always boom and bust cycles with any industry. She needs to be able to lift herself above the industry and separate herself from the competition.

Are you amazed that this whole thing was just an excuse to make some cheap boobie jokes? I didn't think so. Please release the girls.

And I thought Cleavacious had something to do with Ward.

Way To Go Ohio

God bless the Buckeye State.

What happens when you tie between 50 and 200 sparklers together, put them in a brass cylinder and then light it? It explodes. Luckily we had 5 morons in Berea, Ohio to test that for us before the guys on Mythbusters got hurt.

They had also placed bricks around the sparklers. One brick was found post explosion 225 feet away. Yikes! That's a bit more powerful than the Coke and Mentos trick.

I'm going to go on record that I'll bet a bit of alcohol was involved in this "test." I also like how the number of sparklers are between 50 and 200. That's a pretty good tip that memories are a bit foggy in their recollection of the escapade.

How do people get hurt? According to the American Pyrotechnics Association, "It's teenagers having bottle rocket wars, parents giving sparklers to 2-year-olds and people having too much to drink and putting firecrackers up their nose." At least it wasn't a brick.

Kids don't make your own fireworks at home. Go to Ohio first. And don't forget to put a cracker up your nose.

Sweet Home Ohio

I don't know what we would do without the Ohio crazies. Probably write about people in Florida more. But there's just something so right about midwestern foolishness.

Two future scientists have been arrested in Licking County, Ohio for participating in an activity called "hill jumping." Hill jumping involves driving at a high rate of speed so that as one approaches the crest of the hill, the car actually takes to the air and then comes down on the other side of the hill. Good clean fun or an appointment with death? You decide.

First, if you're going to hill jump, you might not want to videotape it.

Second, try not to run into a house.

Third, even if you drive like the Dukes of Hazzard, you will not get to meet Jessica Simpson.

Fourth, wouldn't you figure someplace named Licking County would have something better to do than speeding on country roads?

Go see the world's coolest corporate headquarters ever for crying out loud in Newark, Ohio.

What's the chances these two geniuses thinned the gene pool yesterday? Just asking....

Benevolent Dictator for Life

Because it's officially a slack-ass Monday, I'm in charge. Yup, our entire department is gone on vacation, so the head fry guy is in charge. Because I tend to burn all my vacation at once going somewhere good rather than taking single days over the summer, inevitably I wind up with some small amount of responsibility in everyone's absence.

Rather than thinking of it as being the leader of none, I'm preferring to envision my administration as Lord of All I Survey.

Let the procolamations begin.

More live music.

It is kind of cool to be able to turn your stereo up as loud as you want.

Good parking spaces for all.

Let the peons rejoice. Yes, heavy is the head that wears the crown, but I think I'm up to the task.

Liquor in the lunch room.

Okay, so there are limits to my powers.

But I'm sure I wouldn't abuse my powers. Much. Unless I were absolutely sure I could get away with it.

My condolences to the other lackeys who are working today. I'm guessing it'll be a long one. And when you're finally headed out of work to enjoy the day off tomorrow, remember this bit of advice kids.

Liquor and fireworks don't mix. So get all your drinking done first.

Now please return to your appointed toil. Light fuse and get away.

Luckily the TSA is There

In case you really believe the stink we make about airport security is actually working, I submit the following.

The Tallahassee Regional Airport was closed because of a bomb scare. What looked so much like a bomb that someone had to be detained for 5 hours? It was a jar of Tupelo honey, butt rub, an oyster shell and a digital recorder.

In a complete aside, doesn't Tupelo Honey sound like a good name for an exotic dancer?

Butt rub isn't what you'd pay Tupelo Honey to do in the Champagne Room. It's a concoction of spices that you rub into pork to make it taste better. Specifically it was Bad Byron's Butt Rub.
And I'm sure that Byron had some difficulty acquiring the domain name buttrub.com.

Now I'm no explosives expert, but who is using oyster shells in their incendiary devices? Are we at war with Atlantis and no one told me? I know Aquaman is fighting crime and all, but I thought he had our hands full above the water right now.

More Kid Hijinx

Wife and I went to the zoo on Friday. And while she remembered it nostalgically from her childhood, it paled in comparison when viewed from reality. The penguins didn't swim as much, the polar bears were standoffish and not as cuddly as before and monkeys failed to fling any poo at all.

The trip did, however, provide the opportunity for further interaction with the wee folk.

Many parents seem to be sending their precious tots to day camps. This is presumably to ensure that no time is actually spent in their presence. Once at the alleged camp, they are given matching shirts of a garish color. This, like for inmates, is only for identification purposes if they try to make a break for it. No thought is given to sizing requirements. This may also have the benefit of making it impossible to actually run if your shirt hangs down to your Keds.

Unfortunately, these camps are seriously understaffed. There is no way that two surly college girls (who are just trying to get 3 crummy credits for crying out loud) are a match for 18 children. Even the tactic of forcing all children to hold hands all the time so as to blockade entire sections of the animal kingdom doesn't work. Yes, it is appropriate for the entire group to "EWWWWW" as loud as possible in the event any animal relieves himself in your presence.


We also got to practice some new sayings with our newfound friends:

• "Don't talk to strangers!"
• "Careful. That's his flinging hand."
• "I heard last week he ate a kid."
• "Wow. It was so cool when that bear was dancing. Too bad he just stopped."
• "If you stay here long enough, they'll eventually let you pet the lion."
• Careful, that's his flinging hand.

I would also like to point out that when we encountered a group of special kids, I was immediately waved at. Wife commented they obviously recognized one of their own. And while I was tempted to join hands and make some new friends, I don't think I would have been able to convince the handlers that I was a voluntary member at the end of the day.

It was also espeically humorous to hear one kid say out loud, "What up, llama?"

I don't know if he expected a response but I wish I was a ventriloquist because I'd have made the miming llama say, "Nada, Holmes." And I know this future Nasa scientist would have completely fallen for it. Because he also said, "Look, Dad. That llama has a pricetag." Only $19.95 if you want to take him home.

What up, llama is the new catch phrase sweeping the nation by the way. All the cool kids are doing it.

Quit Patting That Down

I know I already posted today. But sometimes these things just write themselves.

Limbaugh Detained For Drugs At Airport

The best part? It was Viagra.

In his defense, he was returning from the Dominican Republic. That must have been quite a vacation, Rushie Boy.

I always knew that fat blowhard had trouble getting it up. It explains all the anger.

But I'm sure I can predict the excuses Rush will have for having illegal Viagra in his possession:

• Just holding it for a friend
• Not my stuff
• Not sure how it got in there
• Might be his, but just misplaced his prescription
• What happens in the Dominican Republic stays in the Domincan Republic
• Dealer told him it was oxycontin
• Where's my maid?
• This is all Donovan McNabb's fault

And when Viagra is outlawed only outlaws will have chubbies.

I Told You So

Students in England are being told to avoid taking Latin classes because they're "too hard."

According to the Department of Stuff We Just Made Up, Latin was about a grade harder than the next hardest subjects like science and modern languages. Latin is about three grades harder than some other subjects such as sociology. Lazy sociologists!

I told my parents Latin was too freaking hard. This also explains all my B's. Not my laziness and just taking it because I liked the instructor.

Boris Johnson, the shadow higher education minister and Roman history author said, "Latin is a wonderful subject that introduces you to the roots of European civilisation. It is a fantastic foundation for all kinds of careers. I never regretted doing it for a moment."

Right, Boris. As long as you want to write a book no one will ever read and wind up the shadow higher education minister. Does he teach how to make those swell puppets on the wall? Just kidding, I know what a shadow minister does. He tells the Sith what to do.

I told my college academic advisor that I wanted to take Latin for my language requirement. She said they preferred a live language. When Rome rises, I'll be the go to guy.

For those of you unfortunate to be exposed to Latin, a quick joke:

Amo, amas, a mommy.

Thanks, I'm here all week. Remember to tip your bartenders and wait staff. Blogging audiences are the greatest audiences in the world. Goodnight everybody.

Sharks or Jets?

I do love me the Ohio crazies.

There's an old saying that it's better to have people think you're an idiot than opening your mouth and removing all doubt.

This is an actual letter to the editor from the Columbus Dispatch. Matt Carmean is worried that using a truck to haul live whale sharks could result in havoc on the highways, a brouhaha on the boulevard or a riot on the road.

Now while Matt lives in Columbus (where Ohio State University is located), I'm guessing he's not majoring in Oceanography.

Matt is worried about a trucking incident wherein the sharks being transported escape. Specifically he queries: "How many innocent motorists would be bitten in half as the freed beasts squirmed and flailed on the road until they suffocated or a state trooper came along and shot them to death?"

I believe he's talking about the cops shooting the sharks not the motorists. But both would work to clear the highway obstruction.

Why do I think that everything Matt knows about sharks is what he learned from watching Jaws (1 - 4) or Deep Blue Sea?

Now given that sharks are an aquatic species, I'm guessing they pose little peril to people on the land. Unless the sharks of which Matt is concerned is of the Saturday Night Live variety. And while these cunning urban predators can move about the land, they usually take their prey by surprise and guile. Be suspicious if you receive a candygram.

Matt's fears can be allayed, however, in that whale sharks are not carnivores. And while they are the largest fish in existance, they eat only tiny plankton. Just like whales which may be why they are so named.

Bonus points to Matt for using the term "monkeyshines" in the last sentence of his letter though. Didn't think I'd hear that today.

So the next time you're stuck in traffic and have the urge to open your door and see what could possibly be causing the obstruction, maybe you'll wonder if there are sharks on the road!

Probably not though because Matt's crazy.

Cane-tastic

This is what it's all about. This is why I got into this business. To take a really crappy idea and make it even crappier.

The Orlando Visitors Bureau is trying to increase tourism during August, September and October. Yup, those months when it's 95 degrees with even more humidity and the hurricanes are in town. Their idea? Fabulous Fall.

I'm sure that's going to turn it all around. A good slogan and a big advertising budget can really reshape reality.

Quote of the story: "We're not in a constant state of hurricane watch," said some guy who manages a hotel.

And although Fabulous Fall is sure to do the trick, they might want some back up slogans. May I suggest the following:

• Cane-tastic
• Category 5 Fun
• When the levee breaks, you're 800 miles away
• Suck it up, parents
• We guarantee you'll get blown
• Britney is gone now
• The Hurricanes have extinguished the wildfires
• We put the Adventure in Worlds of Adventure
• Coming here now is really Goofy!
• Hardly any of the mosquitos carry encephalitis

Feel free to submit any more, kids.

What's the Matter with Kids Today?

Wife and I can't have children. Because we loathe them.

Now I'm sure your precocious little moppet is a ray of sunshine onto every day. I must just keep running into the wrong, surly youths who I so enjoy loving to torment.

These are things I've actually done to torment the kids of both friends and strangers. If your precious angel was caught in the crossfire, I apologize. As far as you know.

• When seeing a kid whining for candy in the checkout aisle, I always grab the biggest candy bar I can find and loudly proclaim: "This is going to be so good for dinner."
• In the toy aisle at Target when a young boy is lovingly looking at some piece of plastic I'll advise, "If my Mom wouldn't buy that for me I'd just yell and yell and yell until she bought it."
• Seeing that same kid later now looking at a toy gun I said, "With a gun like that I could shoot my sister right in the eye."
• At kid-infested parts of Disneyworld one of my new tricks is to yell, "Hey, there's Mickey!" and see how many tots I can give whiplash.
• When accosted by a gaggle of kids, I declaim, "I'm going to stay up past my bedtime and watch tv until midnight!"
• When our friends' lil tot won't go to bed and is being cranky, I wave my hands like a bad hypnotist from the 50's and yell "SLEEP" to try to put her in a trance. She just laughs but someday that's got to work.
• I tell kids that anything they don't want to eat can easily be hidden in their pockets.
• When I see a parent yelling at some kid I always whisper just loud enough for them to hear, "Leave home, kid."

I don't know why I like tormenting them so. I can't help it. It's so fun. I blame Uncle Shelby for making me this way.

One of the funniest signs I have ever seen was on the marqee at Dairy Queen. It said "SCREAM UNTIL DADDY STOPS THE CAR." I swear, it's true.

Slow Ride

If you really, really like the Orbiter, there's a sure way to get a longer ride. Just flash the guy running the ride. Slight problem when you're flashing at the Our Lady of the Greenwood Catholic Church festival in Indiana. Our bad.

But you can't argue with results. They did get their ride extended to over 20 minutes.

Quote of the story: “It’s a shame these young women didn’t know the great gift and beauty they have as a woman,” Reverand Meyer said.

Oh contraire, Padre. I think they know exactly what "gifts" they have as a woman. And they bestowed a quick peek at said gifts to get the squinty-eyed carny folk to let them have another go 'round or twelve. Maybe a Girls With Low Self Esteem video is in their future as well.

Do you think they had trouble getting the cops to respond to this call? "We have two girls reportedly flashing their sweeties at a carnival. Anyone want this one?" Insert the sound of squealing car tires here. One Adam 12 see the woman.

I'm just happy a story that involved a priest and flashing didn't involve altar boys. Now back to the rectory.

Holy Belief System, Batman!

I don't know why I've been on a superhero topic kick lately. Probably because it's so stupid. Or the Xmen having their movie out. Or because they're showing Spiderman 2: Revenge of the Man Teats endlessly on cable right now.

And just one quick derailment here. Why is it the Xmen? They've got women in the group. It should be the Xpeople. Or Xtraneous characters. Or Xcramentos if they move to California. Or Xtravagants if they buy things from Sharper Image. Okay, I'll knock it off already.

But if you find yourself wondering what religion your favorite superhero is? You need to find a tall, tall building, my friend.

Superman is not Jesus. Even if his Father did send him to Earth to fight for truth, justice and the American Way. Supes doesn't have either the beard or the abs to be Jesus. That Jesus had some abs I'm telling you.

And where are Superman's disciples. He's got Lois Lane, Jimmy Olsen and I'll toss in his editor Perry White. That leaves him short nine people. He's not Jesus.

What is the American Way? Missionary?

Oh yeah, I know I'm going to hell. But Hell Boy will be right there with me. Bless you Ron Perlman for your ability to emote under makeup. Now get back into the sewers.

To The Batsignal

Even though I read comic books when I was a kid, I never officially fought crime for a living.

But I know how the criminal element thinks.

And when I see a pink car with green question marks parked on top of a high school, I know who did it -- The Riddler.

High school officials may be baffled, but I'm not.

Don't worry kids, I've got a call into Batwoman already.

Can I Have Extra Cheese, Pizza Protector?

If you think we don't have any heroes anymore, you're wrong. Cameron Evans is officially a galactic superhero.

Sure he may look like a mild-manned pizza delivery guy who is forced to dress up in a stupid outfit to deliver pies for the evil overlords who run Galactic Pizza.

He may look like an average citizen who just happens to be stuck wearing a beige leotard, tights, boots and a cape. But he's not. He actually foiled a cowardly criminal's attempted purse swiping.

Sure he needed two other citizens to help him. And the criminal got away. And Cameron revealed his secret identity. That doesn't make it any less super.

If Cameron does this again he might want to think about the purse snatcher being armed. Or bigger than him. Or not being dressed in a fey-looking cape. But it's super goddammit!

So I've dubbed Cameron as Pizza Protector. Unfortunately, this sounds a bit like he's that plastic, lifter thing with three legs they put in the middle of your pizza so the box top doesn't get cheese all over the it. So I'm open to suggestions as to better names.

But you just knew I'd be all about the powers, didn't you? Here are the powers Pizza Protector (or whatever he'll eventually be known as) would have to have:

• Makes change instantly
• Magically adds or removes toppings from order mistakes
• Speeding
• Bad skin
• Time Travel (to make up for slow delivery times, getting lost and getting baked)
• Flight (for when his car gets stolen)
• Pepperoni grease proof supersuit
• Minty fresh breath impervious to anchovy smells
• Inability to get laid
• Underpaid
• Super Surliness
• Able to inflict Soggy Crust Curse on bad tippers
• Mental telepathy allows him to deliver pizza before you actually order it

Feel free to add any, kids.

It's the Principal of the Matter

Proof that no one in any school administration has any sense of humor about anything whatsoever is offered by Clio High School in Clio, Michigan (home of the Mustangs).

During the graduation ceremony two, not just one, but two, students played a little grab ass with Principal Keith Smith. And because these two scofflaws are now free from the tyrant Smith's petty rule of high school, he's trying to get the police to prosecute them for fourth degree criminal sexual conduct.

Smith says he needs to set an example so something like this doesn't happen again. I can tell you from personal experience, principals are all about setting examples. In my defense, I never grabbed a Principal's ass, but I certainly had to kiss a lot of it while I was in school.

Quote of the story: "As they were shaking my hand they reached around grabbed my butt and started rubbing it."

I've not been able to unearth (despite the power of the interweb) whether the students were male or female. As an attorney for one of the alleged gropers claims there was no way the contact was for sexual purposes, I'm guessing it's a boy. Of course, if he whispered, "Oh, yeah" that'll shoot that argument to hell.

Principal Smith says he's in shock and frankly embarrassed.

Is that a diploma in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?

Quick Hitter

Dear Ben:

Just two words: Gary Busey

Get well soon.

t2ed

Bang Up Puppy Chow

I don't know why I love bad business moves so much. Maybe it's my role with marketing and public relations. Maybe it's just schadenfreude. That's kraut talk for taking great joy in the misfortunes of others. As Homer Simpson said, "It's funny because I don't know him." It's probably the same reason all those trauma to the groin videos always win the 10 large.

Anyway Disney has a brand of dog food called Old Yeller. You may see it if you go Krogering as that's where Disney was test marketing this stuff.

Doesn't anyone have a problem with this? I hope I'm not giving away anything here, but this is one of the saddest movies ever. Old Yeller dies at the end. It makes everyone cry. And he doesn't just die any old way. He gets rabies and has to be shot. By the little kid who owns him! So I guess Old Yeller brand dog food is the food you'd choose if you want your son to eventually have to shoot his puppy.

Amazingly, though this product works. People are buying the it like crazy and it's Kroger's best selling dog food.

They also have a Pirates of the Caribbean aquarium. Don't take any of the gold out of the little chest at the bottom or you'll be cursed.

So of course this got me thinking about other possible Disney product tie in's:

• Sleeping Beauty Sleeping Pills (slogan: You won't wake up until your Prince comes)
• Cruella Deville Dog Crates
• Pinocchio's Rhynoplasty
• A.J. Arno Business Consulting Services
• Jiminy Cricket's Bug-B-Gon
• Big Bad Wolf Air Freshener/Leaf Blower
• Winnie the Pooh Honey (when you want to get stuck in a hole)
• Herbie the Love Bug Motor Oil (for the car that controls you)
• Peter Pan Wine (when you want to feel like you're flying)
• Maleficent's Down Home Apple Pie
• Tramp's Flea Collar

I'm sure there have to be some others. Feel free to play along at home, kids.

Des Moines Dangler

There's an old joke about a guy who goes to a psychiatrist's office and the headshrinker gives him the Rorschach ink blot test. The guy says the first blot looks like a naked woman. The second one looks like a man and a woman kissing. The third blot is a couple making love. Finally the psychiatrist says something about how the guy obviously has a sexual fixation. The guy replies, "Hey, you're the one showing me all the dirty pictures."


You usually see what you want to see. So what do you think is over there?

Of course that's the City of Des Moines' water retention basin.

What else could you think it was? Perverts.

Kudos to whomever at the Des Moines Register who came up with the line "city design with a vast difference." Well done, indeed.

If you live to the west of the retention pond, you might want to be prepared. Judging by the size of the basin on the right, it looks like it's going to get pretty messy. It looks like flood control is going to be the least of their worries. That's a major case of DSB. People should blow that town; it's full of wankers.

Was that a long way to go for a cheap dick joke or is it just me? I'm sure my parents would be so proud that I've put all this education and technology to good use.

Mission Craptacular

I love when bad ideas go awry. It's awesomely bad to see how something that was a little bit of crap gets implemented poorly and snowballs into a great big pile of steaming trouble.

That happened in Los Angeles recently when the LA Times tried to spice up the launch of the new Tom Cruise vehicle (no, not Katie and her spud, his lame movie) with a little promotion rigged to go off when someone bought a paper from the newsboxes. You were supposed to buy a paper from one of the machines and as you opened the paper box a little device would play the Mission Impossible theme song. Kind of cool, right? Of course in the tv show those recorded messages with the instructions for the mission always blew up. Foreshadowing is a harsh mistress.

The audio players for the theme song included red, black and white wires that were visible from outside of the box. You can see this coming from a mile away, can't you.

Someone called the Bomb Squad and they actually blew up a box. Luckily the devices were only in 4500 boxes all over the Los Angeles and Ventura county area. That's just 10 million people distributed over about 7000 square miles. And unfortunately one of the boxes was in West LA near the VA hospital. The same VA hospital that evacuated 250 people and 50 patients.

"Lives were at risk," said the spokesperson for the VA. The Times countered with "We weren't expecting anything like this."

Who do you think won that battle of the quotes?

No Butts About It

I really don't get this.

Butlers in the Buff are such a hit in London that they're taking the business model on the road. There are 75 bottomless butlers on staff (so to speak). And there are numerous requests to have them work at women's parties (though in England they apparently call them hen parties), corporate functions and gay wedding receptions.

A "tasteful alternative to strippers and pole dancers?" Yeah, strippers are so de classe. But naked butlers around food? That's classy.

Would a real butler ever engage in this kind of behavior? It might go something like this. "I'll have a shandy on the verandah. Good Lord, Jeeves, where are your pants?"

What kind of corporate function has semi-naked serving staff? Quarterly earning projections because you're looking at the bottom line. Proctologist conventions? Sorry, I'm just being cheeky.

I will skip the obvious jokes about the British Marines having a former member who thought this business up. But it puts that whole British public schooling in perspective doesn't it?

But seriously is this that big of a deal? If you think seeing a guy's butt is such a big deal, just ask him. Spring for a couple of beers and it's probably not that much of a stretch to get him to drop trou.

Would women really want to be served by a man with no pants? I know the "towel trick" is a classic. But naked men around found sounds like a health code violation to me.

Tagging It

New York City Councilman Peter Vallone Jr. hates graffiti so much he made it his main campaign issue. Luckily, New York has solved all its other problems. Vallone hates graffiti so much he got a law passed that prohibits the possession or purchase of spray paint, broad-tipped indelible markers and etching acid by anyone not over 21 years of age. When Sharpies are outlawed, only outlaws will have Sharpies.

In the interest of full disclosure, I am a Sharpie addict. I probably have about 50 of various colors and sizes in my office and another 10 or so at home. When I travel I always take a Sharpie in my backpack. While the Hitchhiker has his towel, I have a Sharpie.

Since Vallone has targeted the graffitists, they've targeted him. He has the joy of seeing his name spraypainted (and supposedly indelibly marked and acidly etched) around town. In January, the grafitti gang painted a swell saying on a giant billboard near the Manhattan Bridge. Yup that's it below. Sorry for the crappy placement, but I got tired of fightin' with Flickr. Thanks to Visual Resistance for the upload. Go there directly if you want to see the bad boy in all its glory.

Now I don't know if you're in either the graffiti is a symbol of blight and chaos camp or the graffiti is the visual dialect of a generation camp. They both sound like they're kind of full of shit to me. But kudos to the guy who listed Vallone's district office address on a message board and commented "the door is pretty clean." I'm just sayin'.

In the PR camp, however, we have a saying, "Never pick a fight with someone who buys ink by the barrel." Essentially that's an old axiom to grind about not picking a fight with a newspaper. You'll never get the last word and they'll always reach more people than you will. Of course that axiom was invented before the interweb and Flickr and tags and cell phones. Now you can reach a lot of people. So maybe the axiom should be adjusted to "Never pick a fight with someone who buys paint by the can either."

Look Out Batgirl

In case you hadn't heard, Batwoman is back. And she's out of the Batcloset.

DC Comics announced yesterday (and shouldn't that now be called AC/DC comics?), that they were resurrecting the character Batwoman as a lipstick lesbian. Yup, that's her over there.

Batwoman's socialite alter ego, Kathy Kane, was introduced in 1956 and killed off in 1979. So apparently she's batback now. The recently revived Batwoman Described as 5'10" tall (that's 1.77 meters for our international readers) with flowing read hair, knee high red boots and a tight black outfit. Well sure. What else would the well-dressed crimefighter be wearing?

There are some other little known facts about the new Batwoman character.

10) Batcave now entered in a completely different way
9) Arrests Catwoman for heavy petting
8) Sidekick named Rosie wears flannel
7) Keeps referring to the Joker as "girlfriend"
6) Artificially inseminated by David Crosby
5) First adventure involves breaking up a robbery at a WNBA game
4) Stalks Batgirl
3) Sometimes knee high red boots replaced with hiking shoes
2) Batmobile is now a pick up truck
1) No batpole

Nothing as Thrilling as Shilling

If you're a fan of the Pussycat Dolls, too bad. Because Hasbro just announced you won't be getting a Pussycat Doll doll anytime soon.

The official party line from the company was: "Interscope's [the Dolls' record label] current creative direction and images for the recording group are focused on a much older target than we had anticipated at the time of our original discussions, thereby making a doll line inappropriate for Hasbro."

Yeah, it had nothing at all to do with the protests.

I can't understand why anyone would think that a completely manufactured pop music phenomenon based upon a former burlesque troop would make a bad role model for young girls. It's not like it's a Barbie for crying out loud. Some people are just so closed minded. But then a lot of people didn't realize what great musicians the Monkeys were.

I wonder if the Pussycat Dolls dolls were supposed to inflate?

Please Release Me

Wife and I were watching tv (instead of sweltering in the 90+ heat of Michigan) last weekend. For some reason we stumbled into a conversation about living wills and life support. I can't remember what started this conversation, but I do recall what finished it.

I smugly proclaimed, "I'd rather be dead than kept alive by some machine and fed out of a bottle."

She unplugged the tv and threw away all my beer.

I'll keep my piehole shut next time.

Take Me Out to the Ballpark

If you're anywhere near Altoona, PA, you definitely owe it to yourself to check this out. The Altoona Curve are hosting Frivolous Lawsuit Night on July 2nd. Usually I only go to the park on Handgun and Hard Liquor Night but this could be fun too.

The Curve got the idea for the promotion after some assbag in LA filed suit after he didn't get a nylon tote bag when the Angels gave them away for a Mother's Day promotion. Maybe he could keep his self respect in that tote bag?

As part of their promotion, the Curve will give away the following:

• a pink tote bag to the men
• lukewarm coffee to the women (so they will not burn themselves)
• kids will be given a beach ball (with a warning not to eat it)
• a grand prize drawing in which one fan will receive a “clue” and their own frivolous lawsuit

I wonder if the Curve serves the curve? Nobody is going to get that reference. But these are the best hot dogs in the world. Hope they also sell Curve Ball Kolsch beer.

Iran So Far Away

There are a lot of new visitors to this blog. People from the Netherlands, Spain, India, Malaysia and Iran. All these new people are here searching for the term boob and instead finding this stupid post. I'll bet they're disappointed. If you're actually having to search for the term "sneaky boob grab," you don't get the concept.

Seriously there's someone in Iran, Chahar Mahall va Bakhtiari who visits this site. Man, that person is going to get stoned (not in the good way but instead with real stones) if the government ever finds out he's wasting valuable international interweb power on this stupidity.

So because of all this international traffic, I thought I should explain the concept of Memorial Day to our visitors from abroad.

Memorial Day is on the last Monday in May and is a federal holiday (not one of those wimpy little state holidays). Thus, everyone gets a three day weekend and is allowed to raise hell on a Sunday night instead of watching the Sopranos. This holiday commemorates U.S. men and women who died in military service for their country. Memorial Day began as an honor to Union soldiers who died during the Civil War (the US's not one we started in another country). Memorial Day was later expanded to include those who died in any war or military action.
Memorial Day also typically signals the beginning of Summer.

In the United States we celebrate Memorial Day by drinking a lot of beer and having furniture and mattress sales.

Enjoy the long weekend kids. Feel free to share your favorite Memorial Day stories.

It's Spreading

If anyone thinks I pick on Ohio for having all the stupid people, lighten up, Francis. Today's story comes to us from South Bend, Indiana. So we could blame either Notre Dame or it could be that Ohio's stupidity is spreading to nearby states.

A woman bought a "flat screen tv" off the street for $300. Too bad when she got it home it turned out to be an oven door.

My favorite quote of the story: The oven door was wrapped in plastic to look like a flat screen, had Wal-Mart store labels, and included a generic remote control.

Now that's some quality technology forgery. The Wal-Mart labels are a nice touch.

But if you can't tell the difference between an oven door and a flat screen tv, don't be in such a rush to join the HDTV generation.

If it seems like a deal too good to be true, it isn't. You can't con an honest person. And don't buy tv's out of a trunk.

And You Thought Your Job Was Crappy

The creeping fascism in this country is absolutely disgusting. Now, our bowels aren't even safe from an unlawful search and seizure.

In Wisconsin, the Supreme Court ruled it was okay for police to use laxatives to get a man to "produce" evidence in a drug case.

When the criminal was being taken down (don't you love cop talk?), he swallowed a baggie of heroin. The police (who obviously know a bit about human anatomy) took the criminal to a hospital and chained him to a bed. This too shall pass, my son. After 6 hours (and probably some crummy hospital cafeteria coffee for the cops), the Man in Blue decided to "assist" the procedure and began to feed the suspect cups of a liquid laxative every 20 to 30 minutes.

Now the suspect had enough sense to swallow the drugs while he was being arrested. He also had enough sense to keep his mouth shut (among other things) after he was taken to the hospital. So why did he agree to drink "Go Lightly" (the name of the laxative and somewhere a marketing genius just got his wings) when the cops offered it? Did they trick him? Sneak it into something else? Threaten to beat him? Force it down his throat? I can't believe he just willingly took it after being chained to a bed. Never trust the good cop either, kids.

Anyway, in ruling against the criminal, the Judge noted three things. First, the search involved "medical professionals." Thank goodness trained medical professionals administered the laxative or things might have gotten messy.

Second, she noted the importance of using the drugs against the defendant outweighed the intrusion. Well, duh. That's why he swallowed them. And I'm not certain where she's headed with this "intrustion" talk. Is she suggesting the cops not wait but go searching. I hope not for the defendant's sake.

Third, she said the situation was "self-created." Because the defendant brought this upon himself so to speak, he had to bear the burden of his decision. Apparently in Wisconsin they define a burden as being chained to a bed and forcefed laxatives so some cops can scoop through your poop for evidence.

Best part of the story? The headline: Court Approves Laxative Searches

So the moral of the story is "Don't hide evidence in your ass." Because they're going to get it one way or the other. Do you think Laxative Search would be a good name for a rock and roll band?

Completely Ripped Off

I completely stole this from Dave. But as I've written about Mr. Richards as well, I figured it fit the theme.

Top Ten Things Overheard During Keith Richards' Hospital Stay

10. "What aren't you currently taking, Mr. Richards?"
9. "Visiting hours are over, you'll have to ask the strippers to leave"
8. "That explains it. His MRI shows three livers."
7. "According to our tests he's been dead for the past 30 years"
6. "First time an organ rejected the body"
5. "His blood type is Jack Daniels."
4. "Haven't seen anything this close to death since Letterman's hairpiece."
3. "You mean he looked like that before the fall?"
2. "I just listed his bedpan on eBay."
1. "We need to find a perfect match for his blood -- somebody call Whitney Houston!"

We'll Always Have Paris

I completely stole this idea from kitkat's writing blog. You had to pick a line and write a 300 word story with some dialogue and a twist. Twisted is easy for me.

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

Looking at Paris in this light, I was amazed. I had heard such marvelous things from my friends. And while they were right, no one had done it justice. I had heard how amazing Paris was. “You’ve never seen anything like it,” they would gush. “Words can’t describe it. You’ll never believe it. You have to see it for yourself.” I really wasn’t a Paris kind of guy, but I figured I’d go take a look and see what everyone was raving about.

“Paris is for lovers,” I remembered hearing. I held my breath in anticipation. I’d waited so long for this. I thought back on the endless planning, the numerous internet searches, all of my questions.

“Where should I go?” Everyone seemed to have a favorite site or an opinion for enlightenment. What would really make me understand Paris? No one seemed to be able to tell me exactly where to go. “Do some exploring. You’ll find it eventually." Where was that secret spot that would allow me to see Paris in all her glory?

But it was all coming to fruition. I was finally getting to see Paris.

And while the green night-vision video made her look a bit alien, I could finally see why some people loved Paris. Here was a girl who would have sex with anyone. Anyone who was hot. Even her pause to take a cell phone call mid-coitus couldn’t diminish my admiration.

Here was a woman with no appreciable skills, intelligence or otherwise redeeming social value. Yet she was a star. She was famous simply for being famous. She’s a winner in the genetic lottery. "Be born wealthy" really is the best advice you can give your kids. Paris breaks barriers. She shows you don't have to be poor to be white trash.

Tag Tag, Oh Baby

Now I used to be a kid. Really, I was. And Wife often thinks I still am. Usually when asked "How old are you?" after doing something immature, I hold out three fingers and say "This many." I can't help it. It's my inner child that needs a slap not me.

But in Golden, Colorado (home of Coors beer) the games have gotten out of hand. Or too in hand if you ask the police.

Cole Sharpe (age 14) was taken into custody and is being investigated on a possible charge of unlawful sexual contact. His alleged crime? Playing Boob Tag. I'm guessing Boob Tag is played at the Kennedy Compound in a formal league.

Boob Tag, according to young Cole, is "Just like tag except you, like, poke the breast area."

Has anyone really heard of this game? Or is just a sneaky (and clever) way for 14 year old boys to try to get close to the boobies?

It obvious he's just a kid. You never "poke" a boob. Sure admire, obsess over, stroke, nuzzle, pet, kiss, rub, give soft butterfly kisses to, lick, nibble, suck gently.....okay, I've got to stop this line of inquiry or this post will never get finished. But no poking, that's the point.

Now in Cole's defense, he's 14. He's thinking about boobs and the tagging thereof constantly. He admits that he was playing Boob Tag, but not with the accuser. So apparently in Golden, Colorado there are some girls who'll allow you to play Boob Tag without complaining to the cops. Unless it's a totally gay thing.

More of the shoddy reporting we've come to expect from the mainstream media. The real questions we need answers to go unasked.

How many people were playing Boob Tag?
How many boys versus girls?
How long have you been playing Boob Tag?
How do you decide who gets to be it (after President Clinton of course)
How do you win at Boob Tag? (I think everyone is a winner, but that's just me)
Who invented Boob Tag? (Russ Meyer is my guess)
Has anyone told you not to poke?
What is the possible criminal penalty for unlawful Boob Tag playing?
How old is the alleged victim?
Did she act like she wanted to play Boob Tag? You know that's where the criminal defense lawyer is going to go?
Has the victim played Boob Tag in the past?

Now I've never heard of Boob Tag before this, but I do happen to know that Fox is developing a game show around the concept. Some possible show slogans include:

Boob Tag - Get in the Game
Boob Tag Fever - Catch It
Boob Tag - Grab the game with both hands
Boob Tag - Exploiting Women With Their Consent
Boob Tag - Best Game on Ice
Boob Tag - These Guys Are Very Very Good
Boob Tag - No Poking
Boob Tag - We Try Harder
Boob Tag - Just Do It
Boob Tag - Can You Grope Me Now?
Boob Tag - We've Got Milk
Boob Tag - Greatest Show on Earth
Boob Tag - Priceless
Boob Tag - We'll Leave the Bra on For You

Okay, I'll knock it off. But feel free to submit your own slogans or personal Boob Tag experiences. Seriously, is this game for real?

Mother Plunker

The Giants are playing a series in Houston right now. And Houston was getting killed in the first game. Down 6-0 and it's only the 4th inning.

So Russ Springer (the pitcher) starts throwing at Barry Bonds. First he threw behind him. Then he came inside 3 times and missed him every time. Then Springer hit him on the hands while Barry was holding the bat. This actually counts as a strike and should probably be the strategy everyone uses to pitch to Barry.

In case you hadn't heard, Barry is one homerun away from tying Babe Ruth with 714 home runs. I could understand if you were unaware of this fact as ESPN only breaks into coverage every time he is up at bat, shows every at bat during every SportsCenter and talks about it endlessly. So no pitcher wants to be the guy shown on every highlight film until the end of time giving up the gopher ball to Bobblehead Barry which ties the Babe.

Finally, Springer hits him. And 35,000 fans stand up and cheer. A standing O for hitting a batter. Then Springer got ejected from the game. And the crowd continued to cheer for him.

I have never seen a more hated man than Barry Bonds.

Ghost Writer

In case you hadn't heard, there is some kind of movie coming out in which Tom Hanks plays Leonardo Da Vinci. I'm pretty certain that's what it is. I haven't heard too much about it though. Something about a book and the Venus de Milo. I'm a little hazy on the facts.

Anyway, some albinos are going to protest the film. Umm, hello, fiction.

Man, those albinos really need to lighten up. Doesn't some dumb film pale in comparison to the problems we have in this world? Sure it's not fair, but no one is lily-white in this world. Give it a rest, Casper. Milk before meat.

Okay, I'll knock it off.

I'm feeling anemic anyway and it's time to feed my Frankenstein.

Just Another Music Monday.

I can't remember who did this first or I'd attribute it. Since I can't, I'm stealing leveraging it for myself. I only listen to my iPod in the car and am freed of the shackles of commercial radio.

Here is a random sampling of the content on my personal, magic music box. Truly a life changing technology. One caveat, no podcasts, no comedy, no Xmas music. Yes, I have all of those on the Pod because I like to annoy my friends with mixes periodically. Think of this as a lame dj "Drop the Needle" experiment. Except here we're "Hitting the Shuffle." Okay, enough of a set up. Let's get to it.

#1) Celebration by Kool & the Gang from The Very Best of Kool and the Gang

An exceedingly silly song that never fails to lift my spirits. Also the worst covered song ever by many wedding bands. This also makes me happy. How can I revel in such crap? It's a gift. I also laugh hysterically at Abba.

#2) The Living Daylights by a-Ha from The Best of James Bond

Ugh. I remember buying this album just so I could get the bass guitar riff from the beginning of all the movies. There are actually a few good songs on this album. This isn't one of them. And if you don't remember, a-Ha is more well known for Take On Me with their swell little comic book video. This is ancient history of the video era and movie theatres would actually show that vid as a preview. Yes, Papaw, people actually wanted to watch videos on MTV and not reality series.

#3) When Rita Leaves by Delbert McClinton from Nothing Personal

Delbert rocks. Sometimes he's a little too country for me and this one is a little slow for my tastes. But when he's doing blues, it's awesome. This is about a woman leaving, taking his car, leaving a note in lipstick on a broken bathroom mirror. Just for spite, she leaves the dress he liked her in the most in the closet. Ow. If you've ever been dumped by a girl, you can relate. This song grew on me and now is one of my favorites of Delbert's work.

#4) The Blues Don't Bother Me by Matt "Guitar" Murphy from Blues Brothers 2000

A much better soundtrack than a movie. I had the luck to see Matt in a small club when I was in college. Matt is the lead guitar and has about 5 albums out. They all rock. Matt's supposed to be married to Aretha in the car dealership in the movie. If they really had kids, they'd have a lot of musical talent. If your nickname is guitar, you know he can play.

#5) Change It by Stevie Ray Vaughan from Greatest Hits

If you don't own this album, there's something wrong with you. With all the biopics about dead musicians being made, I can't believe they haven't done SRV yet. He goes clean and sober, then dies in a plane crash. Karma, like gravity, is a harsh mistress. SRV coming up right after Matt made this a guitar god lucky draw. If Clapton comes up next, the universe is getting it right.

#6) Everybody's Talking by Jimmy Buffett from Live in Las Vegas

No Clapton. This was a gift to the wife as we had gone to Vegas for Jimmy's show the year before. And while Jimmy's concerts are always a huge party, they ought to be outdoors. Nonetheless, the mix of a Japanese tour, Parrotheads and the Vibe Awards made for an eclectic mix of weekenders. I think the Japanese didn't think it at all odd that Americans seemed to dress either in suede suits or coconut bras. And those were the men. I'll confess to buying anything Jimmy puts out.

#7) Half Past the Blues by Michelle "Evil Gal" Willson from Tryin' to Make a Little Love

First, she can wail. Second, her nickname is Evil Gal. Third, I've seen her live twice and both times were free. Mostly blues but with some jazz and rock thrown in. I think she's from Boston because she used to be on Rounder Records. She can really wail. She has a 40's sassy, lounge singer feel but with amazing pipes. She has started to go by simply Michelle Willson and the Evil Gal Orchestra. Still a great name.

#8) Seven Angels by Bruce Springsteen from Tracks, Disc 4

I remember buying this entire set just so I could get Pink Cadillac. Again in the pre-historic era before iTunes and mp3 files. I like his faster stuff a lot more than his slower stuff. I maintain that if you listen to The River while driving across Nebraska in the winter, you'll kill yourself before you hit another state line.

#9) Wasted Time by The Eagles from Hotel California

An album probably everyone owns. Now that you own in CD, you won't scratch it up. But you no longer have the album cover to sort your pot on. I also proposed Wasted Time for our high school graduation theme. For some reason the administration and I did not see eye to eye on this great theme.

#10) Steamy Windows by Shemekia Copeland from Wicked

I had the luck to see Shemekia open for Susan Tedeschi at a small, outdoor amphitheater. I now own all her stuff. A big voice doing rocking blues. Her Dad is Johnny Copeland who played with Robert Cray and Albert King on one of the best blues guitar albums ever, Showdown.

More than ya'll ever wanted to know about my eclectic musical tastes.

Sign o' the Times

I've written before about Barry Bonds. But I just can't seem to whip up the bile and hatred for Barry that I can for TO. I'm not sure why. Maybe because Barry has always been an asshole and doesn't just behave himself the first year he signs a new contract.

I love the fans who whip up creative signs to torment Barry. Assuming he can read.

Barry got to play in Philadelphia last week. Yes, the city of Brotherly Love. The city that booed Santa Claus at an Eagles game.

And the fans, they had some great ones:

• Barry, move your head. We can't see.
• Seeing Barry hit 715: Worthless.
• Ruth did it on hotdogs and beer. Aaron did it with class. How did YOU do it, Barry?
• Just Retire
• Barry Cheated
• Balco Barry
• For Sale: Life-sized Bobblehead. See Leftfield.

People are also dressing up as juice boxes with a number 25 (Barry's playing number) and marked 100% roids.

I'd also like to have seen the skinny guy in a t-shirt reading Barry with Pirates and the guy in the sumo wrestler costume that read Barry with San Fran.

And yes, I stole all these from Tom Verducci of SI. I'll bet he's got even better ones that he's not allowed to discuss in print.

At least this is one way to get fans involved in the game.

Riddle Me This

Because I've been thinking 'bout bidness so much lately, I've got some interview tips for you. Many, many tips. And the Blues is my bidness and bidness is good.

The best interviews are only about 50% likely to get a qualified candidate hired. And the worst interviews are about 35% accurate. So employers attach a huge amount of weight to what is essentially a flawed process.

Now having been both an interviewer and an interviewee (otherwise known as supplicant not applicant), we all know this is just a little dance. We're just trying to figure out if the two of us can show up for work sober every day and try not to kill each other because of our annoying little habits. Oh, and determine if the other one is a pathological liar.

So I've been asked all of these questions and probably asked them all as well. But here's the answers I'd really like to get someday.

1. What's your biggest weakness?

Punctuality. Somedays I dream I wake up and take a shower and get dressed and go to work. Then the snooze alarm goes off.

2. Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

With any luck laid up at home with a lucrative worker's compensation claim. But I'd settle for a spurious sexual harassment suit.

3. What's your greatest strength?

Kissing ass. I'm prepared to answer every question with either "Great idea, Boss" or "And you're a damn handsome man, Sir."

4. What would you bring to our company?

A history of emotional baggage that will make approaching me every morning a gamble. And pinkeye and my imaginary friend Maynard.

5. What do you like least about your current job?

People who ask a lot of questions.

6. What is your biggest accomplishment?

Barely masking my contempt for the empty headed fucks who walk around here in a suit and tie and act like they work all day when all they do is sit in meetings and go harrumph.

7. What was your worst mistake?

Not having the hole dug before I headed out into the desert. And forgetting to put the new cover sheet on my TPS reports.

8. What are you looking for in an employer?

A steady check, a supervisor who doesn't check up on me and an easily duped expense reporting program.

9. Are you a leader?

I micromanage everyone with the iron fist of a petty tyrant. I make Castro look like the PTA President. I encourage everyone to complete the work I'm not doing. I also take all the credit for anything good that happens and blame the idiots you saddled me with if there is the slightest whiff of controversy.

10. Do you work well with a team?

As long as I can be in charge. Otherwise I'll backstab, question authority and count on the team to pick up my slack.

Not What They Meant by The Grass Roots

As any faithful reader of this lil blog o' nonsense knows (and the four of you know who you are), I love the stories about crazy people from Ohio. There's just something about the crazy there that goes to 11. We don't have crazy like that in Michigan. But they've got it to spare in Ohio.

In Vermilion, Ohio (45 minutes West of Cleveland on Lake Erie) a man was arrested for driving his lawnmower while intoxicated. I'll type that again just to make sure you got it. He was drunk driving. His lawnmower.

Dondi Bowles (age 50) was arrested for driving his lawnmower on a sidewalk about a mile from his house. Bowles' blood alcohol level was 0.144 , well over 0.08 limit in Ohio. This was Mr. Bowles third DUI arrest in the last six months.

Dondi? Wasn't that the orphan kid from that crappy cartoon? Anyone going by the name of Dondi is just asking for trouble.

I know exactly how this went down. Dondi started drinking on Friday night, ran out of sweet booze, needed a beer run and couldn't drive because he's lost his license. He thinks, "Hmmmm, I can't drive, but I can still mow." So he hopped on the old Toro riding lawn job and headed to the 7-11 for another 12 pack of Miller High Life. Then the man had to pull him over on the sidewalk.

As usual it's the sloppy reporting we've come to expect from the mainstream media. I want to know the answers to the tough questions.

What was the probably cause for pulling him over? You can't just pull over god-fearing Americans who are mowing peacefully a few miles from their house for no reason.

Was he weaving? Or was he still mowing in straight lines. We may have an unlawful stop here.

Did he have ID and registration? I don't think most Ohio mowers come with registration so he may have a good loophole argument here.

How many miles will a lawn mower go? I think I remember a movie with Richard Farnsworth where he was driving his lawnmower to visit his brother. How do the cops know he's not just visiting his brother?

The best part of this story: they had to tow the lawn mower.

I Hear An Echo

Hard rocker, Keith Richards required brain surgery to remove a blood clot that received after falling out of a palm tree while vacationing in Fiji.

This surgery typically involves a doctor drilling a hole into the skull to remove the blood clot. Giving his prediliction for self-medication, I'm guessing Keith needed that surgery like he needed a hole in the head. Wait a minute, I've confused myself now.

Keith was up and talking after surgery and reportedly back to his old incoherent self. Keith was so confused immediately after the operation that he could only stumble through the lyrics to Little TA. So it was just like being at a live show.

How will anyone be able to tell if the surgery is a success? Richard is reportedly making a speedy recovery. Or perhaps a recovery with speed.

When Richards was more lucid, no one was able to tell. His publicist did issue the following statement:

Mr. Richards will not fade away. He is happy but has mixed emotions about his emotional rescue. There is no truth to the rumor that this is Mr. Richards' 19th nervous breakdown. With the help of some honky tonk women, he'll spend the night together with them and soon be dining at Ruby Tuesday's where he can always get what he wants. His critics may condemn his art as being only rock and roll, but he likes it. Wild horses couldn't keep him away from the Stones' next tour date even if Keith has to sneak in undercover of the night.

Richards is expected to be back up and around mumbling incoherently, engaging in bizarre acts of behavior and looking incredibly craggy in a few weeks.

Look how cool cigarettes make you look, kids.

The Rules of Work

1. Never give me work in the morning. Always wait until 4:00 and then bring it to me. The challenge of a deadline is refreshing.

2. If it's really a rush job, run in and interrupt me every 10 minutes to inquire how it's going. Even better, hover behind me, and advise me at every keystroke.

3. Always leave without telling anyone where you're going. It gives me a chance to be creative when someone asks where you are.

4. If my arms are full of papers, boxes, books, or supplies, don't open the door for me. I need to learn how to function as a paraplegic and opening doors with no arms is good training in case I should ever be injured and lose all use of my limbs.

5. If you give me more than one job to do, don't tell me which is priority. I am psychic.

6. Do your best to keep me late. I adore this office and really have nowhere to go or anything to do. I have no life beyond work.

7. If a job I do pleases you, keep it a secret. If that gets out, it could mean a promotion.

8. If you don't like my work, tell everyone. I like my name to be popular in conversations. I was born to be whipped.

9. If you have special instructions for a job, don't write them down. In fact, save them until the job is almost done. No use confusing me with useful information.

10. Never introduce me to the people you're with. I have no right to know anything. In the corporate food chain, I am plankton. When you refer to them later, my shrewd deductions will identify them.

11. Be nice to me only when the job I'm doing for you could really change your life and send you straight to manager's hell.

12. Tell me all your little problems. No one else has any and it's nice to know someone is less fortunate. I especially like the story about having to pay so many taxes on the bonus check you received for being such a good manager.

13. Wait until my yearly review and THEN tell me what my goals SHOULD have been. Give me a mediocre performance rating with a cost of living increase. I'm not here for the money anyway.

I may have missed a few other rules in that list. Feel free to submit your own.

It's a Sure Thing

Fast Company did a great article on the Five Most Common Lies in Business.

Briefly they are:

• People are our most important asset.
• This was a rational decision.
• We judge people by their performance.
• This is business, it isn't personal.
• The customer comes first.

I've actually had a VP use that first one in a speech. But it was a joke from Scott Adams. Actually people are our 8th most important asset. Right behind carbon paper.

What got me started thinking about the insanities of wage earning in the corporate world was a buddy of mine who reminded me of something I did a long time ago.

Because we're getting a new boss, we have to prepare something called a People Awareness Template. You have to fill out a form about yourself telling some weasel what you do. There's no way a boss would actually walk around and talk to people several levels below them. And they request pictures for the form. You can't tell the players without a program, I guess. And it's not like we're providing glossy 8 by 10 glamour shots here. It's just some little square in a box in the top right corner of the form. Like a passport photo.

Yes, it's demeaning. Yes, it's dehumanizing. Yes, it's disrespectful. And I wasn't going to take it anymore.

Several years ago I got this type of request for a new boss several levels above me, I filled out the form with my current role (several jobs ago in the same organization) and attached a picture of John Cusack.

No one ever said a word.

I'm guessing no one even looked at it because I'm such a lowly drone. But I secretly hope there's an executive somewhere who thinks that guy from The Sure Thing works for him.

Who am I kidding? None of our executives is cool enough to have seen that movie.

Rocking in Fiji

While vacationing in Fiji, Keith Richards fell out of a tree and suffered a mild concussion. Some reports are indicating that he actually fell from a palm tree then was on a jet ski and had another accident before someone finally realized they need to take him to a hospital for observation.

I can understand that, because if Keith had a concussion, you probably wouldn't be able to tell he's acting any differently. Unfocused eyes, check. Random words and phrases, check. Appears tired and groggy, check. I mean, that's Keith, not a head trauma victim. They're going to need the guy from House to diagnose this illness. That doc is Hugh Laurie by the way and he was much funnier in Blackadder, but I digress.

Doctors in Fiji did say that Keith's head was flattened, flattened, shadoobie, shadoobie. I can't believe I can't come up with more Stones lyrics for this. Maybe he'll need an Angie-oplasty. Wow, that's smelly. At least he didn't try jumping, Jack Flash, from that tree. That's got to be some of my lamest work with rock lyrics ever. My genius obviously just runs to bad 80's bands.

I always thought a Rolling Stone gathered no moss. Although now I can use if a Rolling Stone falls in the forest and no one hears, does it make any noise?

Doctors did say as soon as Richards looked terrible, they released him from the hospital.

Snubberiffic

I see I have been snubbed again. Yup, I'm not on People magazine's Sexiest People list for 2006.

What a crock! It's all politics. I'm just as vain, shallow yet fabulous as any of those people. But just because I'm not adopting Namibian babies, jumping up and down on couches, conveniently having my baby in advance of my movie launch or showing my perfect ass and lack of talent in a bikini, I'm not on the list.

If I get screwed out of the Nobel Peace Prize again this year, I'm gonna shoot someone.

Sonsabitches.