HEADLINE: LIL WAYNE’S SEIZURES NOT DRUG-RELATED, BIRDMAN SAYS

MUNCIE, Indiana – Pop sensation Lil Wayne’s recent seizure was not caused by illegal drug use, said Harvey Birdman, Lil Wayne’s attorney and spokesperson.

“My client is not a drug user,” Birdman said at a press conference he called for the purpose of “clearing the air” about Lil Wayne’s seizure. “He is allergic to wheat,” Birdman explained.

Birdman ended the conference with a warning about the perils of food allergies.

 

 

HEADLINE – IRANIAN OFFICIAL CANCELS CANADIAN TRIP

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MUNCIE – A top Iranian official has canceled his Canadian vacation plans to protest Canada’s recent decision to sever diplomatic ties between Canada and Iran.

“I was going to go to Banff to take in some skying, but screw that now,” said Osama bin Pharten, the Iranian Minister of Counterfeiting and Money Laundering.  ”As far as I am concerned Canada is no longer a vacation destination for me or my family,” bin Pharten said.

“And their bacon is stupid,” he added.

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When Pigs Fly

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HEADLINE – Lady Gaga Terrifies Baby

Lady Gaga holds up crying baby after yelling "boo!" and shaking the infant.

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MUNCIE – For the third time in two days, pop star Lady Gaga has frightened a small child.

“So I like to scare kids. So what?” Gaga said on Wednesday.  ”Everyone has their peccadillos.  Mine happens to be frightening children,” the singer added.

“I hate the little bastards,” Gaga concluded.

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Source:  http://www.people.com/people/article/0,,20546230,00.html

CAN’T. STOP. LAUGHING.

Michele Bachmann vis-a-vis Charles Manson (a fair and balanced examination)

In my last entry, I argued that Newsweek did not try to make Tea Party favorite presidential candidate Michele Bachmann look “crazy” by featuring a certain photograph of Ms. Bachmann on the latest Newsweek cover.

I attempted to support my argument by showing other, much less flattering photographs of Ms. Bachmann that most definitely make her look crazy.

The point I was trying to make was that, if Newsweek really wanted to make Michele Bachmann look crazy, they could have and would have easilly used a less flattering photograph of her.

A number of you commented that Bachmann’s eyes remind you of notorious serial killer Charlie Manson.

I don’t think that is true, but, in the spirit of fairness, I will let you judge for yourself.  Michele Bachmann’s eyes look like this:

Whereas Charlie Manson’s eyes look like this:

As you can see, any similarity is entirely superficial.

BECAUSE YOU INSISTED

CHICKS WITH DICKS

Jess McCann with Richard Branson

KC Concepcion with Richard Gutierrez

Dick and Liz Cheney

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You Gotta Love L.A. – UPDATE

A few days ago I posted this photo (sent to me by my good friend, Joseph) to illustrate the bizarre, delightful, dada quality that so typifies Los Angeles:

I charted it out. I made a seven day – 24 hour AM/PM calendar and blocked out all of the days and times described in each sign, many of them overlapping.

The result can be seen below. The hours you cannot park on that street are the ones that are not blacked out.

Click on the chart for a larger version that is easier to read.

I hope this clarifies the situation.

I love LA. Angelenos are required to think in multiple dimensions.

Sort of like what happens when you try to get around via automobile in Central Paris, France.

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HEADLINE – Gov’t focus on nuke crisis angers tsunami victims

RIKUZENTAKATA, Japan – As Japan’s prime minister held another in an endless stream of press conferences to describe in great detail the Japanese government’s efforts to fix damaged nuclear reactors, frustrated tsunami victims complained that the government has been too focused on the nuclear crisis that followed the massive wave.

“Hey! Over here! 165,000 people living in cardboard boxes and packing crates! HELLO?? Is anyone home??” 35-year-old Megumi Shimanuki shouted at the Prime Minister from the crowd gathered at the press conference. “Yeah, yeah, highly radioactive water is leaking into the sea. Blah, blah, blah. I need a house,” Shimanuki yelled.

“Go find the corporate executives and their stooge government regulators who willfully and knowingly decided to operate unsafe nuclear reactors right near the ocean, line them up against a wall, and shoot them,” suggested Ken Hashimoto, a fellow tsunami evacuee.

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“Kill them all, then confiscate their multiple homes, expensive automobiles and jewelry they bought with the profits they made cutting safety corners.  Sell that property and use the money to get me some food,” Hashimoto added.

Source: http://news.yahoo.com

Declaration of Sentiments and Resolutions – and Ray Gun Girls

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By now you know I kind of dig Space Chicks.

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In addition to writing substantively on the historical, sociological and geopolitical aspects of Space Chicks, my purely scholarly passion led me to become the worlds leading authority on subject.

Professor Boylan presenting a paper on Space Chicks at the University of Johannesburg, South Africa, in 2006

When I first determined the importance of Space Chicks as a pop culture phenomenon,  I soon observed that there is an important Space Chick subset that is best described as “Ray Gun Girls.”  Simply put, a Ray Gun Girl is a girl often, but not always, wearing a space suit in close proximity to a ray gun, often, but not always holding the ray gun.

Like Space Chicks in general, Ray Gun Girls first appeared on the cover of pulp magazines.

And when Space Chicks migrated from pulp novel covers to film and television, Ray Gun Girls began showing up there, too.

In all honesty, most Ray Gun Girl images are fetish driven manifestations of arrested male adolescent wish fulfillment, amounting to little more than soft core pornography.

However, as the years went by science fiction matured, and Space Chick images began to include strong, capable women who were fully realized heroic figures as complex and detailed as any male hero. As this happened, the images of Ray Gun Girls also evolved into something more serious and less sexist.

To me, the entire phenomenon is really quite fascinating. I don’t have the time or inclination to explore in this blog why there is such a driving interest to depict women holding ray guns.  The psycho-sexual implications alone would fill more space than I have to work with here. However, it is worth noting that the Ray Gun Girl concept is distancing itself from sex object utility and is increasingly being seen as a sign of feminist empowerment.

I’m taking the time here to provide you with the opportunity to judge for yourself.  Below is a gallery of Ray Gun Girl drawings and photos representing only what I was able to download in a few minutes before I gave up and went on to more serious business.  Nevertheless, this incomplete sample is the most comprehensive collection of Ray Gun Girl pics anywhere on or off the internet.

I present them in the order my computer imposed due to file title.

[If you don't see any gallery below, then you need to go back up to the top and click on the link entitled something like "The Ultimate Ray Gun Girl Gallery."

I take no responsibility for any offense that may result from anyone accessing and scrutinizing any of the photos in that gallery.]

HEADLINE – Chavez says he won’t give up decree powers

"You're thinking of the number 7..."

MUNCIE, Indiana - Venezuela strong man Hugo Chavez said yesterday he will not give up his decree powers.

“Under no circumstances will I even consider giving up my decree powers,” Chavez said.

Source: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20110121/ap_on_re_la_am_ca/lt_venezuela_chavez;_ylt=ArnyDzHwkaiTMb8aNJzTbmOs0NUE;_ylu=X3oDMTFicjRrbzNkBHBvcwM1NQRzZWMDYWNjb3JkaW9uX3dvcmxkBHNsawNjaGF2ZXpzYXlzaGU-

A SHORT CONVERSATION WITH MY WIFE

So I was in bed last night watching television with my wife and we were discussing gun control.

There is no more divisive issue sui generis to the American experience and national psyche than the question of gun control.  I am often asked to appear as a guest speaker on topics touching on constitutional rights.  I always begin those talks by quickly describing my travels and experience living and working with people from similar and vastly different cultures.  Because of my exposure to different cultures I am very much aware of what makes Americans different from anyone else on earth. I also know that very few Americans are aware of that difference.

So I ask groups of people whenever I can what it is that makes Americans different and distinct as a culture.  It often isn’t easy for them to determine because they’ve never considered the question before. Most of them have never been more than 50 miles from where they were born and most of them live near people who look, talk and think the same way they do.

But eventually the Socratic method succeeds in helping my audience discover the truth – i.e,  that it is the rights we enjoy as Americans that makes us fundamentally different.  Americans experience a level of freedom no one else in the world can exercise.

Which prompts the inevitable follow-up question. I ask “What freedoms are uniquely American?”

The answer I get varies from audience to audience, but I am always surprised how often the answer is the right to bear arms.

Those who believe this, of course, are wrong.  The right to bear arms isn’t fundamentally or uniquely American.  The Taliban in Afghanistan believe the same thing and are willing to kill anyone who attempts to compromise their right to own and use fire arms.

I bring this up only to illustrate how important it is to own firearms to many, many Americans.  It is so important that millions of Americans value the right to bear arms above the rights of speech, assembly and movement.

I am not that extreme in my views, but I do feel the right to bear arms is an important right if for no other reason than it is expressly mentioned in the American Constitution.  My wife disagrees.  She believes that the American Founding Fathers’ viewpoint is important, but not controlling because time has made their worldview – their original intent – absurd.

You can see her argument best expressed here:

http://www.examiner.com/video

 

Gun control is a fairly hot topic, which is why my wife and I were discussing the topic while watching television last night.

The recent horrific shootings in Tuscon, Arizona are at the forefront of all of our minds. My wife is upset and believes Arizona should have more potent gun control regulations.  In the heat of our discussion she said “guns kill people.”

I was ready for that argument. “Blaming guns for killing people,” I retorted, “is like blaming spoons for obesity.”

I felt pretty good about that statement. It was eloquent and elegant, bordering on poetry.

We sat in silence a while, me feeling a bit smug, and then my wife said:

“Yeah, but if crazy people were running around killing 9 year old girls with spoons, I bet we would have some spoon control laws pretty quick.”

God, I love my wife.

HEADLINE – Surgeon General calls for more breastfeeding

X-Men star, Rebecca Romijn

MUNCIE – US Surgeon General Regina Benjamin issued a statement Thursday advocating mothers breast-feed their children.

“I want to see more breasts out there,” Benjamin said. “I want to see them in supermarkets. I want to see them in movie theaters. I want to see them at fast food restaurants.  Wherever I look, I want to see nothing but breasts,” Benjamin concluded.

“I couldn’t agree more,” said Ted, some guy walking past on his way to nowhere important.

Ted

Source: http://www.reuters.com/article/idUSTRE70J4U220110120

HEADLINE – Toxic Waste Bars Have Hazardous Levels Of Lead, Recalled

LOS ANGELES –  Candy bars called “Toxic Waste Chew Bars” have been recalled because a sample lot was found to have high levels of lead – 0.24 parts per million, as opposed to the FDA tolerance of 0.1ppm.

“We clearly labeled those candy bars as Toxic Waste,” said Vinnie Slimp, Vice President of Marketing for Circle City Marketing and Distributors, producers of Toxic Waste Chew Bars.

Vinnie Slimp

“It states quite clearly on the wrapper that the ingredients include three kinds of lead, arsenic, dioxin, chromium 6, spent nuclear fuel and there is also a clear warning that the candy may contain traces of tree or ground nuts,” Slimp said.

“It isn’t our fault when someone ignores these clear warnings and actually eats that stuff,” Slimp concluded.

Circle City Marketing and Distributors  is also recalling  ”Deadly Poison Gum Drops” which they also produce and market.

Both Toxic Waste Chew Bars and Deadly Poison Gum Drops are manufactured in China.

Source: http://www.ecoworld.com/agriculture/toxic-candy-bars-recalled-for-lead-content.html

HEADLINE – More Proof God Exists: Extremely Obese People More Likely To Die From H1N1 Swine Flu

MEMPHIS – Extremely obese individuals – those with a BMI (body mass index) of over 40 because they eat like pigs – have a significantly higher chance of dying from 2009 A(H1N1)swine flu infection compared to people who do not eat like pigs, researchers revealed in the journal Clinical Infectious Diseases.

“This is more proof that God exists,” said  theologist Krista Schnurstein. “This joke took over a billion years to be told, which also illustrates God’s incredible patience.  The joke required humans and pigs to evolve, the H1N1 virus to evolve and be identified, as well as the process that eventually named it ‘swine flu.’ God’s majesty is truly apparent when you consider the slow evolution of the now universal comparison between fat people and pigs, resulting in this new research showing fat people more likely to die of swine flu – which is, essentially, a divine punch line,” Schnurstein concluded.

Advocates for the morbidly obese are more concerned about the emotional pain this new study will cause fat people. “Fat people are often made fun of by comparing them to pigs,” said Tina Finster, Director of Friends of Obese Dependents (FOOD), a non profit organization that lobbies on behalf of obese citizens trapped in their homes because they are too large to use ordinary doors. “We want to change the name of swine flu to something less insulting to fat people who contract that illness,” Finster said.

FOOD has polled its members to determine what term should be used to replace “swine flu.”  Based on the poll results, FOOD is sponsoring legislation that will require all state and federal government agencies to refer to swine flu by any of the following alternative names: cuddly-kitten flu, extra-crispy flu, chocolate-cake flu, fried-chicken flu, four-double-Whoppers-with-extra-cheese flu, or yes-I-want-fries-with-that flu.

HEADLINE – European anarchists grow more violent, coordinated

ROME – A loosely linked movement of European anarchists who want to bring down state and financial institutions is becoming more violent and coordinated, security experts say.

“Anarchists have suddenly realized that they can be more effective using organizational methods borrowed from business and government,” says Herb Slovo, Director of World Empire Security Consultants.

“Coordinating with other anarchists just makes subverting the world economic tyrany so much easier,” says Jimmy X, self-described anarchist and unemployed dog groomer.

Jimmy X

“Conventions, discussion groups, ad hoc committees. Even rules of procedure for meetings. Newsletters. Schedule books. All of it. It really helps us get things done without all that bickering and confusion,” X says.

“We are actualising öur potential with blue sky thinking, exploring a different set of paradigms,” says Swedish Anarchist “Therbs” (not his real name).

Therbs

“We have our eye on the prize and will leverage our corporate knowledge assets to achieve our goals within a defined set of core strategic streams,” Therbs continues.  ”We’re cutting across the old silos which have held us back and moving forward we’re looking at a dynamic future with win-win scenarios coming into play.”

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20101228/ap_on_re_eu/eu_italy_embassy_blasts;_ylt=AqM8tkLxzmdTlw1S3trFdtqs0NUE;_ylu=X3oDMTFiMHNnZDNvBHBvcwM1MwRzZWMDYWNjb3JkaW9uX3dvcmxkBHNsawNldXJvcGVhbmFuYXI-

The Curmudgeon and the Elf

She decided it was a fine idea to play Uncle Paul’s bald head like a bongo drum.

Apparently there is a vid of it.  That vid will never see the light of day.

Carthage Must Be Destroyed

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HEADLINE – Africa’s “terrible hairy fly” found in Kenya

NAIROBI (Reuters) – After a long search, authorities in Kenya have finally located an insect dubbed the “terrible hairy fly,” experts said on Wednesday.

“This is no ordinary fly,” said Scooter Iverson, Director of the Kenyan Institute of Civility in Nairobi. “Most flies are fairly courteous and well-mannered. But this fly is truly terrible.  This fly habitually ‘dines and dashes’ at restaurants, running out without paying his bill.  He stole a wheelchair from a crippled child. He has sexually harassed countless woman.  And his lack of commonly expected grooming is simply shocking.” Iverson says.

“Get that camera out of my face,” says the fly to reporters attempting to obtain an interview. “No one can prove anything.  It wasn’t me – it was some other hairy fly. I am being discriminated against because of my religion. I harassed no one,” the fly shouted before driving off in a 1971 Honda 600 Coupe.

Source: http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20101208/od_nm/us_kenya_fly;_ylt=AncWNOqPteMVdUneNa7w8zWs0NUE;_ylu=X3oDMTFmdjVsaGUxBHBvcwMxOTUEc2VjA2FjY29yZGlvbl9vZGRfbmV3cwRzbGsDYWZyaWNhMzlzcXVv

HEADLINE – Attack is North Korean bid for attention

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By Rhappee Kanasta, Ass. Press Reporter

SOUL -A frustrated North Korea is lashing out again, this time with a deadly volley of artillery aimed at reminding rival South Korea — and the world — that it will not be ignored.

Pariah nations attack their neighbors  for a very simple reason, according to Los Angeles Area pediatrician Krista Schnurstein, MD.  It works.

“Attacking a neighboring nation gets the neighboring nation’s attention,” Schnurstein said. “A sudden rain of high explosive artillery shells is effective because the neighboring nation can’t not attend to it.”

Isn't that a double-negative?

“Pariah nations are remarkably skilled at using techniques that push buttons that, in turn, launch missiles,” Schnurstein continued.

“North Korea’s type of response though, is something we usually see in an older, better-established nation, so I wonder where North Korea saw this modeled.”

“Fortunately it doesn’t matter. What matters is how the world responds.  South Korea is off to a great start by telling North Korea that if it fires artillery at South Korean cities, then South Korea will cancel future play dates.  In the meantime it is important to avoid putting on a show that will encourage future bids for attention.”

Goose-stepping, high kicking North Korean military hot babes (on the march).

Schnurstein suggests responding to this recent North Korean aggression with a subtle approach.  “Try some humor. Say something like, ‘Oh! You scamp! Attacking our cities was hilarious!’”

“Have a good laugh and then add, ‘Of course we all know that North and South Korea care about each other and have a wonderful time together!’”

“Let it go and back off and observe what North Korea does next.”

“If North Korea goes for more drama, then follow through with leaving immediately and taking a break for a while. Be sure to follow up with heart to heart talks during neutral times about the situation and ask questions like, ‘Could it be that you are destroying South Korean cities to get South Korea’s attention?’”  Schnurstein suggested.

To avoid being attacked, Schnurstein advises South Korea not to wait until it is attacked. “It’s important for South Korea to respond to that first bid for attention,” Schnurstein said. “If South Korea is on the phone or in the middle of a conversation, make eye contact with North Korea and put a finger up, so North Korea knows South Korea will be there in a minute. Then give North Korea your attention as soon as you can politely do so.”

South Korean political strategist, Kim Li Kim, disagrees. “Perhaps the best and most effective approach would be to bomb them back into the Stone Age,” Kim suggested.

“Really, it wouldn’t take much to accomplish. Most of North Korea is already living in the Stone Age, and the ruling elite are few in number.”

“A couple well-placed nukes would eliminate the North Korean problem once and for all,” Kim concludes.

WEBSITE OF THE WEEK: Nietzsche Family Circus

I don’t know if this is taking place in any other part of the world, but here in the U.S. of A. virtually every newspaper has featured a daily cartoon entitled “the Family Circus.”  Here is an example:

I hate this cartoon strip.  Please note that I am using the word “hate” in reference to the Family Circus cartoon series.  First, it isn’t funny.  At most, it is merely cute, and cuteness doesn’t sustain any meaningful interest. Second, and more importantly,  the  Family Circus cartoon series represents – and works to reinforce and therefore perpetuate – just about every evil that slowly works to subvert American greatness.  The cartoon strip champions mediocrity.  It laughs at – and accepts – idiocy in thought, attitude and behavior.

The Nietzsche Family Circus pairs randomized Family Circus cartoons with randomized Friedrich Nietzsche quotes, and by doing so, not only is wonderful parody but brilliant and piercing satire, e.g. -

Man is something to be overcome. What have you done to overcome him?

And, from my very limited and idiosyncratic viewpoint, the random parings are also very dada, which, for me, provides added value and elevates the Nietzche Family Circus to art.

Please enjoy:

http://www.losanjealous.com/nfc/

And, as a bonus for my mate, Flinthart, here is a Family Circus cartoon quoting H.P. Lovecraft:

A Grim Fairy Tale: THE SOMBER TURKEY

Most of you who visit here know that I am an attorney – and a happy one, content in my work and honored to be part of one of the Great Professions.

But before I shook the dust out of my brain and decided to make something of myself, I fancied myself a writer – or at least thought I would write professionally one day.

During that phase of my wasted youth I wrote a series of terrible and really inappropriate children’s stories I called Grim Fairy Tales.  They were told by Brother Grim, an old man who owned and operated a convenience store. One night a bad storm forced brother Grim and a small group of children to spend the night in Brother Grim’s store.  The lights and phone were out, so Brother Grim entertained them with stories told in the dark, while the wind and rain howled and rattled the windows.

Hello, children. I am Brother Grim. Would you like to hear a story?

What follows is one of those stories.  I post it every November as we North Americans get closer to our Thanksgiving feast – which invariably features a big roasted turkey.

It is that time of year again.  My friends, I give you…

The Somber Turkey

Once upon a time, outside of the Kingdom of Woodland, east of Winters, in the Land of California, there lived a happy turkey farmer named Hannigan.  He loved raising turkeys, killing them, and selling them – in part or in whole – to clients all over California – where turkey eating was a big thing, especially during Thanksgiving and Christmas.

On Hannigan’s turkey farm lived a happy turkey named Norman.  Norman was the happiest and most contented turkey the world had ever known because he was the biggest turkey anyone had ever seen.  Farmer Hannigan often brought other humans to marvel at Norman’s size and physical beauty.

“That’s gonna be some big turkey,” the human visitors would always say.

“Yep,” Farmer Hannigan would always reply.

Farmer Hannigan was happy, which made Norman happy. Norman was proud of the fact that he was so big and fat with lots of white meat, whatever that was.

The other turkeys knew how Norman felt, because he was always bragging about himself.

“I’m gonna be some big turkey!” he would say.

The other turkeys got fed up with Norman’s bragging.  One day Leonardo decided to do something about it.

Leonardo was not an especially big or happy turkey. Not being big didn’t make Leonardo unhappy.  He could give a rat’s ass about how big he was.  He didn’t buy into that neo-fascist farmcentric value system.  Leonardo was a fiery-eyed revolutionary with a strong interest in pragmatic Marxism.

Leonardo

“You are one fine, big turkey,” Leonardo said to Norman one day.

“Yes, I am,” Norman preened.

“You know what they’re going to do to you because you’re so big?” Leonardo asked.

“Admire me,” Norman said, meaning it.

“Sure they are.  They’re going to admire how good you taste,” Leonardo said.

“I beg your pardon?” Norman asked.

“They’re going to eat you, buddy.  In a couple of months they’re going to catch you, kill you, cut off your head, pull out all of your feathers and your internal organs, cook you and eat you, and they’re going to pick you first because you’re so big.  Lots of white meat.”

“Oh, my god!” Norman said.  “They’re going to eat me!”

Norman realizing the truth.

“You mean you didn’t know?”

“No!”

“Everyone else knows.  Why do you think that so many turkeys die while they’re drinking water?”

“Because they forget to breath?”

Leonardo laughed. “You believe that?  It’s a lie invented by the Man.  Have you ever forgotten to breath?”

“No.”

“Of course not. You got to be really stupid to forget to breath.”

“But we are pretty stupid.”

“No we’re not.  That’s just a lie to keep us down, to ruin our self esteem so we will be easy to exploit and so we won’t cause any trouble.  I’ll tell you why some turkeys die drinking water. Depression.  They’re depressed.  Why else do you think those other “stupid” things happen?  Why do you think some turkeys kill themselves by opening their throats in the rain and drowning?  Why do you think hens sit on their eggs so hard they break the eggs?”

“Oh my god, they’re killing their babies,” Norman said, in horror.

“Right.  They know what’s in store and they can’t take it. Would you want someone to eat your babies?”

“No,” Norman said.  “What can I do?” he asked, whispering in abject terror.

“Maybe I can get you out of here,” Leonardo said.  “On the outside there is an underground network of birds and humans who can take you to a place where you will be free.”

“Interested?”

“Of course!”

“Okay  I’ll see what I can do.”

Time went by.  Leonardo often spoke with Norman, teaching the bigger bird the truth about the world, teaching him hatred for the seemingly unbreakable power structure that doomed him and his race to be imprisoned, enslaved, slaughtered and devoured by killer apes.

“But remember,” Leonardo cautioned one night. “Not all humans are ravenous cannibals.  Some are good, and eat only plants and bugs.  These are the ones that help some of us get away.”

“How?” Leonardo asked in the star lit darkness.

“Every now and then there is a condition called Dark of the Moon, when there is no moon out and the darkness is as total as it can be.  During this time, a human jumps the fence and opens a big box. As many of us run in as we can.  We call it the Box of Freedom.”

“Just one box?”

“Yes, one box, but it is a big box, and it is better that some of us escape to keep the flames of hope burning.”

“I hope we both make it, brother,” Leonardo said.

“Me too, brother.  Me too.”

Then came the Dark of the Moon.  The turkeys were all quiet, making sure that there was no reason for Farmer Hannigan to investigate.

Suddenly the man with the box appeared.  He placed a big box on the ground and opened the side.

“This is it, brother!” Leonardo said, running.  Norman followed.

Leonardo made it into the box.  Norman didn’t get in before the man closed the box.

“Don’t worry, brother!” Leonardo cried from inside the box. “I’ll be waiting for you in paradise!”

But it didn’t happen.  The friendly human with the big box didn’t come back.  And Thanksgiving approached.  Leonardo was right – they came for Norman first.

Farmer Hannigan and his employees placed Norman in a big wooden crate built out of slats so that Norman could see and breathe.  Then Norman was carried to a truck, to an airport, into the belly of a jet, into another truck, and onto a large lawn next to a big white house.  Eventually, humans came to set up a lectern, chairs and cameras.  More humans came.  Some talked at the lectern in front of the crowd.

And then Norman’s cage was opened and gentle hands removed him from the crate.

“My god,” one human said.  “This had got to be the biggest turkey I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s why the President is getting it,” another human said, not trying to make a joke.

Norman was brought to the front of the crowd.  One human in a black suit made a short speech to another man, also standing in front of the crowd.  Humans in the audience took pictures with still and video cameras.

And then Norman did it.  He thrust out his neck and tried to bite the man who wasn’t giving the speech.  Norman knew that he just couldn’t go gently into that good night.

The man giving the speech reached out, grabbed Norman’s long neck and choked Norman.  Other humans helped stuff Norman back into the crate.

“That is one feisty bird,” the President quipped, and the reporters laughed.

In those days it was customary for the President to display generosity, and pardon the White House Thanksgiving turkey.  So Norman was taken to a farm in Virginia, where he lived for the rest of his natural days.

Leonardo was not so lucky. He ended up as dinner for the man with the big box, who was nothing more than a thief who just couldn’t get over how stupid those turkeys were and how they would be so quite and just waddle into the box, as if they wanted to be eaten.

Which was, from the thief’s point of view, always possible.  After all, turkeys are so stupid.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

HEADLINE – FRITO-LAY ISSUES DORITOS WARNING

ST LOUIS – The Frito-Lay corporation is warning the public not to eat the new Doritos variety Extra Spicy Nacho Cheese Extreme.

“Look, I said to stay away from those things,” said Eric Paulson, Frito-Lay Vice President, hurrying out of his office with a box stuffed with personal belongings. “It’s not my fault. I didn’t know this would happen. No one could have known,” Paulson said as he ran off.

In response to Frito-Lay’s warning, the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) posted the following advisory on the FEMA website:

“Close and lock or barricade all doors and windows.  Close all blinds and/or window coverings.  Turn off all lights.  Move everyone as far from potential threat areas as possible.  Take cover behind heavy furnishings or structures. Stay down.  Do not open doors unless instructed to do so by FEMA or positively identified public safety personnel.

If possible, shut off building ventilation systems. If it is safe to do so, provide first aid and appropriate care for the injured or ill person.  Whenever possible, if blood, vomit, or other bodily fluids are present, avoid contact with these and use appropriate Personal Protective Equipment (gloves, mask, etc.).  Do not move seriously injured people unless movement is necessary to protect them from immediate, life-threatening danger.  Consider the possibility that injured persons may have been contaminated and take appropriate precautionary measures.”

“We will survive this,” said said Janette Hemply, Acting Frito-Lay Board President from an undisclosed location. “We will rebuild.”

“It’s in the trees!  It’s coming!” yelled an unidentified person behind Hemply.

Source:

http://www.walletpop.com/blog/2010/06/15/fake-doritos-coupon-warning-from-frito-lay/

FEAR OF THE UKNOWN

As I sat in my study ruminating on deep and important matters, my wife interrupted me to ask a question.

“You know the question,” she said to me. “It’s the question that drives us. It’s the question that brought you here. You know the question, just as I did.”

My wife knows that I am powerfully attracted to her when she quotes Trinity from The Matrix.

But I digress.  After repeating dialogue from one of my favorite movies, she placed an item in front of me and asked “what does this mean?”

I am going to show you the object and ask you the same question. Here is the object:

What you are looking at is an exact reproduction of an information tag on a pillow my wife purchased.  The questions she asked – that I now ask you – is:

What the f**k does “ALL NEW MATERIALS consisting of TEXTILE FIBERS OF AN UNKNOWN KIND” mean?  Are the people who made this pillow actually saying they don’t know what is in this pillow?

Somebody must know what kind of textile fibers are stuffed into that pillow.

More importantly, why would there be a law that requires a manufacturer of pillow products to inform me that my pillow is filled with a substance that cannot be identified?  How is that supposed to protect – much less reassure -me?

Well, that’s it for me. Like Yobbo, I am out of here.

I am going to find my wife and listen to her as she explains that the Oracle told her she was going to fall in love with me, and then tell me with the very next breath she wants pizza – and I am going to try not to think about the unknown and likely unknowable.

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HEADLINE: Fracking chemicals in NE Pa. water wells

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CHICAGO – A recent study concludes that much of Pennsylvania’s ground water is contaminated with toxic chemicals.

“Our fracking water is full of fracking toxic chemicals,” said Julius Zimmer, rural Pennsylvanian farmer.  ”We are all totally fracked,” he added.

“Yeah, we are fracked,” agreed Henry Clompton, homeowner and member of the Pennsylvanian Green Party. “But it is the fracking fault of the fracking chemical companies. They totally fracked up.”

“I’m fracked?” asked Ted Pimple, Director of Public Relation at Uranus Corporation. “No, you’re fracked,” he said, poking his finger at this reporter.

“I’m not fracked,” corrected Zimmer. “That jerk is the one who is fracked. He is totally fracked up.”

“Is “fracked” code for “f**ked?” asked Linda Penter, Chairman of the Polite American Foundation, a non profit corporation. “Frack” certainly sounds like “f**k” when used in most contexts,” Penter observed politely.

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Source: http://news.yahoo.com/fracking-

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HEADLINE – Doctor dies in chimney

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Dr. Jacquelyn Kotarac

BAKERSFIELD, Calif. – A doctor involved in an “on-again, off-again” relationship apparently tried to force her way into her boyfriend’s home by sliding down the chimney, police said Tuesday. Her decomposing body was found there three days later.

Dr. Jacquelyn Kotarac, 49, first tried to get into the house with a shovel, then climbed a ladder to the roof last Wednesday night, removed the chimney cap and slid feet first down the flue, Bakersfield police Sgt. Mary DeGeare said.

“It was a good plan, and might have worked, but Dr. Kotarac apparently forgot that, when she became a physician, she lost the powers of Santa Claus,” DeGeare said. “The same thing happens to lawyers, accountants and professional writers.”

Source:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20100901/ap_on_re_us/us_woman_in_chimney;_ylt=AtbQBQyyKtOwWcjgF.pksXGs0NUE;_ylu=X3oDMTFpZWZrdGI2BHBvcwMzOARzZWMDYWNjb3JkaW9uX21vc3RfcG9wdWxhcgRzbGsDY29wc2NhbGlmZG9j

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THE PARENT FILES: BACK IN THE USA

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From our home in Davis, my son and I drove to Oakland, parked the car in a lot outside the airport, took a shuttle bus to the terminal and flew to Phoenix where we connected with a flight to Philadelphia, where we connected with a flight to Dublin, Ireland, where we took a cab to the Heuston Railway station, where we ate breakfast and drank a half pint of Guinness – my son’s first “legal beer” (he is 19).

From Dublin we took a train to Galway, where we checked into the Eyrie Square Hotel, which is a about fifty yards from my favorite pub in the entire world, An Pucan, where we ate lunch and drank a pint of Smythwick.  I showed my son the university, the cathedral, the Latin Quarter.

The next morning, we took the train back to Dublin and spent two days that included: touring the tombs of St. Michan (my son touched the Crusader’s hand); eating and drinking at the Brazen Head; walking up and down O’Connell Street; visiting the only Greek Orthodox church in Dublin (a tiny thing next to a prison that housed sex offenders); visiting an exclusive (two bouncers at the door) pool/snooker hall (more interesting than it sounds) owned by former clients (Russian); touring the Guinness brewery (incredible fun); and viewing the Book of Kells at Trinity (mandatory).

Flew from Dublin to London and spent two days devoted primarily to the dead, i.e. visiting with Jeremy Bentham, Karl Marx and all those dead poets in Westminster Abby. Also met up with my oldest friend, Joseph, for dinner, amazing conversation and much wandering through central London late at night.

Then flew from London to Paris where I rented a car, drove to Caen, checked into a hotel and then drove north to the coast then east past all the allied beaches (filled with British vacationers) to Omaha Beach (virtually deserted) to commune with the ghosts that will forever haunt that beautiful expanse of tan sand.

The next day we drove back to Paris – stopping in Versailles along the way – checked into a hotel near CDG, and then went into Paris to walk under the Eifel Tower and otherwise wander around stopping at cafes to spend huge money for small drinks and to sit and watch the foot traffic – composed primarily of Italian and German tourists.

The next day we flew back the same way we came, except that bad weather stranded our plane on the tarmac in Philadelphia, causing us to miss our connecting flight in Phoenix, causing us to spend the night there (incredibly hot even before dawn) and fly the rest of the way back to California the next morning.

So here we are, back where we started.  I am seven pounds heavier.

The highlight of the trip was seeing Douglas Adams’ grave.  We traveled to Highgate Cemetery to see Karl Marx’s tomb “towering over” Edmund Spencer’s much more modest tomb.

Since my son intends on studying political science, I thought he aught to see where these two contemporaries were laid to rest (Marx was laid to rest twice: once when he died and the second time in the 1950’s when he was dug up by some of his fans and relocated to a more fashionable part of the cemetery).

But as we were walking down the path to Marx’s tomb, my son called to me and pointed to a small, gravestone off to the side.  Pens had been pushed into the soil on top of the grave.  The tombstone read:

My son and I added a pen to those marking Mr. Adams’ resting place. My son placed it there himself.

I found out about an hour ago that Michael Faraday is also buried there.  And I missed paying my respects. I deeply regret that.

But other than that, it was a wonderful experience, and likely one that will not be repeated. My son is off to college, far away, in 10 days, and thus begins a new chapter in our lives.

I am glad he touched the crusader’s hand. For luck.  I did it when I was one year younger than him and on my own for the first time in my life, and I have been very, very lucky ever since.

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THE PARENT FILES: History Repeating itself (again)(sort of)

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Some of you know a little about my past, in particular, how I graduated high school only because my math teacher, instead of failing me, was kind enough to give me a D, which allowed me to avoid repeating my senior year.  I suspect she was pressured by the school district superintendent to improve my final grade so that I would not return to high school.

Such pressure wasn’t personal – I wasn’t a behavioral problem. I was taught never to embarrass my family, which meant never getting caught, and I always made sure that any mischief for which I was responsible could be backed up with plausible deniability.

So it wasn’t personal. My teachers and their superiors hardly knew I was there.  But my illiteracy was a problem that could only be solved with time and distance.  There is a de facto practice in American k -12 education commonly referred to as “passing the trash’ – i.e., moving academic failures through and out of the system to make room for others who might do better, and upon whose coincidental achievement administrators could claim responsibility and point to as proof that they were doing a good job.

I was one of those who could not be used to ensure job security, so, as a purely pragmatic alternative, I was allowed to graduate high school.

But I did not go on to university. My guidance counselor, Dean Rothy, told me bluntly and often that I was not “college material.” There were probably hundreds in my senior class like me, and untold thousands over the years. Like me, they were unsuited for university because, like me, they could barely read and write and needed the fingers on both hands to accomplish simple math calculations.

My long-absent father appeared and offered me an alternative. He offered me the chance to accompany him as he drove from Amsterdam through Europe and the Middle East (he lived and worked in Saudi Arabia, and would pay for his trip by selling the car once he arrived back in Dhahran), to be left on the Jordanian/Israeli boarder to then make my way wherever I wanted for as long as I could afford to stay.

I jumped at the chance. I stayed seven month, primarily in Europe.

That alternative – the opportunity my father provided – was the first in a series of events that ultimately lead to community college where I learned how to read and write (math still escapes me), to university, to law school where I met my wife, to a home and family and now a son who has graduated high school and on his way to attend university in Montana.

Even before my son was born, I resolved to travel with my son, or daughter, as my father once traveled with me – even if for a shorter time.  I arranged such a trip, but my son could not go with me because of unforeseen and unplanned for pre-university examinations. So I cancelled his plane ticket and cut my trip short, returning when my lecture tour was finished.

Now, those exams are over. At the end of August my wife and I will be loading up our van with my son’s stuff and driving across the Rockies to move my son into his dorm room.

Which gives time in the middle to take my son to Europe.

It will be expensive, but what the hell? The cost of my regret for not doing it will be greater than the cost of the trip, which will, in time, be utterly forgotten.

So a few hours ago I booked the flights.  Like last time, we will arrive in Dublin, take a train to Galway, see some friends, travel back to Dublin, see some friends, then to London (to see some friends and visit with Jeremy Bentham) then the Eurostar to Paris and on to Caen to see some friends and to visit Omaha Beach – which will fulfill one of my son’s dreams.

Desire is destiny.

NEXT:  My awful experience with Travelocity trying to cut expenses by obtaining a credit for the tickets (my son’s round trip and my flight from Paris to San Francisco) to subsidize the cost of this new trip. To make a long story short, I gave up on the idea of a credit and booked our flights through Orbitz for half of what it would have cost me using my credit through Travelocity. I will never, ever use Travelocity to purchase anything.

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DID I MENTION I DIG SPACE CHICKS?

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Of course I have. Over and over again. Since I came to this place I have freely expressed my appreciation for space chicks.  I have written scholarly critiques of new media, expressing dissatisfaction with this television program or that new film because the program or film didn’t have enough space chicks. Conversely, I have expressed my approval when a program or film featured the proper quantity of quality Space Chicks.

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But what, academically speaking, is a Space Chick?  Is it merely a woman in space?

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The first woman in space.

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Clearly not. The media has depicted many women in space, not all of whom can be properly classified as Space Chicks.  And, where life has imitated art, only one female astronaut can be properly considered a Space Chick.

Allow me to elaborate, elucidate, pontificate and fabricate (but just a little):

As I’ve discussed earlier in this blog, pulp magazines acted as the vehicle through which science fiction entered popular culture.  These pulp magazines – published from the 1920’s through the 1950’s – embodied the motto “sex sells” and so habitually featured women on their covers.  For example:

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1919

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1929

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1933

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1936

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1942

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1949

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1950

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With this marketing heritage it was only natural that pulp science fiction magazines would feature, as often as possible, images of women, often scantily clad.

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A Space Chick who apparently likes lollipops.

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These were the original Space Chicks – objects of amorphous adolescent male fantasy.  And, as objects of early 20th Century amorphous adolescent male fantasy, these space chicks often needed rescuing from monsters.

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Film, and eventually television, adopted the pulp magazine formula and expanded upon it. In the same way that producers began insisting that any science fiction project include aliens, they also insisted that Space Chicks be part of whatever awful film or television show they were going to finance.

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But something happened that differentiated Space Chicks from their non science fiction counterparts. Space chicks were often depicted doing more than simply needing rescue and being more than merely sexy.  The Women of Tomorrow were shown to be, not just desirable, but also fast, strong, smart, capable and brave as any man.

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Cinema and television imitated the pulp formula and began depicting Space Chicks that were not just sex objects, but also intelligent, confident and professionally accomplished -little realizing that they were part of a social and political revolution.

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When humans actually began poking a tentative finger into outer space, life imitated art.  The Russians were the first to put a woman into space.  Long before they did, they tried to let their people, and the world, know what to expect.

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Make no mistake: this is a Space Chick.  We can’t see the rest of her, and her space suit is undoubtedly too bulky to determine the attractiveness of her physical charms, but her mascara, eye shadow, false eyelashes and lipstick tells us that she is ready for action.

Reality did not meet this expectation.  The actual first woman in space looked like this.

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There is a rumor that persists to this day that she was really a man in a wig.

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In any event, she was no space chick.  The United States did better, but none of the women NASA put into space can be characterized as Space Chicks. Even zero gravity – which one would think, like beer, would make women more attractive – tends to make things worse.

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Lesbians seem to adore this photo. I have no idea why.

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There is one exception – Mae Jemison:

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She is more than pretty.  She is a medical doctor. She is strong, smart, capable and brave enough to ride in the space shuttle – a crapshoot against disaster every time its engines ignite. But even more important for the purposes of this essay, her cuteness survives zero gravity. Click on the following link to see what I am talking about.

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Mae Jemison

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That isn’t just a picture. It is a pose. But that isn’t what makes Dr. Jemison a Space Chick.  What makes her a bona fide Space Chick is that, after actually going into space, she appeared as a minor characer on Star Trek!!!

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Dr. Mae Jemision is the only women who is a media space chick AND a real world Space Chick!

How cool is that?

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MEET KAREN (again) [UPDATED]

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About a year ago, I asked all of you to go to a website devoted to the American cable television show Mad Men and vote for my dear friend, Karen, so that she could appear on that television program.  This is Karen:

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Please note the ankle tattoo. I will NOT entertain discussion of her “tramp stamp” so don’t even ask.  I’m looking at you, Barnes and Bondi.

I was at our favorite sushi bar the other day with Karen, her husband Gerald and their daughter Laney.  Gerald looks like this:

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Gerald is possibly the most interesting person I know, and I know a lot of interesting people.  He is the guy who wrote a program called Ethereal now known as Wireshark, a network protocol analyzer.  If you don’t know what that is, then you can’t say you know what is really going on.

Gerald and Karen’s daughter, Laney, looks like this:

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So we are sitting there chatting, catching up on stuff, when suddenly, and without warning of any kind, Laney gasps and says:

“I swallowed my tooth.”

Laney is very, very young, and is losing her baby teeth. Well, at the moment she was chewing on and swallowing a bit of California Roll, one of her lose teeth dislodged and went down with the food.

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The culprit.

Laney was very unhappy, but soon was eating with gusto again.

But Karen was not satisfied.

“That is Laney’s first baby tooth. I am going to get that tooth,” she said to me, her words oozing with ruthless determination. “You know me,” she said. ” I am going to get that tooth.”

The visual image was, well, rather disgusting.  Karen saw it on my face and attempted to reassure me.

“I am going to use gloves,” she said.

Using gloves was not really the point.  The concept of Karen rooting through Laney’s – well, you know – was the image that was revolting me.

“Well, okay,” I said. “But I want pictures so I can post them on my blog.”

“Okay!” Karen said.

So, stay tuned!  Pics on the way!

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UPDATE

Karen succeeded . Here is the tooth:

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Karen assures me that she “soaked it in bleach” but – from my perspective – that isn’t really an important point.

When all is said and done, that tooth has a heck of a story associated with it.  And although the details may be a bit unsavory, it really is an amazing story. And isn’t that what all of this is about?

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