Perhaps you’ve seen Stan Romanek, the delusional idiot guy with the video of an “extra-terrestrial” peering in his bedroom window.
I have, and I fail to see what’s so special. You can’t look out my window at night and not catch an extra-terrestrial looking back. Goddamned interstellar-illegal-alien-peeping-tom-pervert-sons-of-bitches!
I really don’t get why they’d travel millions of miles just to look at me in my underwear, but whatever….
On a side-note, am I alone in thinking that at one time Larry King was actually a respected journalist, or has he always been an opportunistic crackpot?
David Letterman had as his guest Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas. Strangely, instead of the typical interview, they were playing a game that was a cross between miniature golf and soccer, which involved them scooting about on desk chairs while avoiding various obstacles and trying to kick golf balls (they each had their own) into sequentially numbered hole/basket/goals. This game was created by Jerry Lewis, who had appeared earlier to (somewhat comically, somewhat disturbingly) explain it.
As the two of them played the game Paul and the band accompanied the action with calliope “clown music” (I wish I knew the name of the tune; it’s instantly recognizable). They were neck and neck coming down toward the final goal when Dave grabbed the arm of CT’s chair with one hand then with his other hand reached into CT’s suit jacket pocket where there was an asthma inhaler which he discharged 6 or 7 times (as a diversion?)
This allowed Dave to kick the winning goal, whereupon he shouted “35 points!! In your face, Thomas!” (No, I have no idea how he arrived at the 35 point figure.)
What does this all mean?
It could just mean that I’m nuts; or it could simply indicate that when a medication cautions it may cause “vivid dreams” what they really mean is “weird-ass dreams”.
That’s not so much a side-effect as it is a ‘bonus’ in my book. I mean seriously, if you gotta have side effects, that’s not a bad one to get.
This may not be quite up to the level of the items on David Letterman’s recurring bit by the same name, but I just came across this in the online version of my local paper:
Friday, Feb. 9
6:13 p.m. - United Dairy Farmers, 340 W. Second St., criminal mischief. Business stated that suspect used a pizza to improperly tamper with the men’s bathroom urinal, sink and mirror.
If you’re going to use pizza to tamper with a urinal, sink and mirror, for God’s sake, at least do it properly.
Years and years (20?) ago, I found no small measure of humor in Mattel’s “Animal-loving Barbie” and “Animal-lovin’ Ken” (who, you may recall, came with “his own chimpanzee to care for and love”). So, imagine my delight/horror when I stumbled across this:
Here’s the description from the website where you can purchase this treasure:
Finally, Barbie has a dog that eats and makes a mess! Tanner the dog eats and ejects waste from his body. At this point, Barbie can pick it up in a scooper, and then Tanner will eat it again– just like your real dog!
Finally!?!
They call it the “Barbie Doll and Tanner Scooper Dog Set”, but in the spirit of my last post, we all know the name should really be:
Poop scooping Barbie and Tanner, the shit-eating wonder-dog.
Wouldn’t you love to have been the proverbial ‘fly on the wall’ at the meeting when the drug-addled lunatic brilliant toy-designer pitched that idea?
Here’s the really crazy part of the whole sordid mess: At the same instant that I discovered that the importation process into WordPress was not going to work, and I began to curse Google/Blogger for raining on my parade; I smelled smoke.
Acrid, burning plastic-type smoke. As I sniffed the air, searching for the source, I saw smoke wafting out of the top of my file server, which promptly shut down. Pulling the cover off and peering inside, I wasn’t immediately able to find the source of the smoke, but there were traces of the thread-like soot that is characteristic of burning plastic scattered here and there inside the case. I disconnected the power, grabbed a flashlight, and searched for the culprit. Several minutes later, I found it. At the edge of the motherboard, hidden from view between a PCI card the edge of the case, two plastic jumpers had melted down and, evidently, caught fire.
Here’s the really, really crazy part: After I pulled the charred remnants of the jumpers off, I warily powered the computer back up… and it booted right up and ran (and continues to run) as though nothing had happened! Crazy! (And not exactly confidence-inspiring.)
Naturally, even though there’s absolutely no evidence of any involvement, I blame Blogger/Google.
Bastards!
So, the other night I was perusing the usual overnight cable TV wasteland when this Japanese cartoon with English subtitles caught my attention. A group of adorable raccoons were leading an idyllic existence in an abandoned barn until it was demolished by the evil humans. This was apparently the last straw and the raccoons decided they had to fight back against the horrible humans who were encroaching on their habitat. Fairly plausible and normal so far, right?
Okay, so the raccoons band together and parachute down upon their evil oppressors, kamikaze-style, using the enormous testicles they apparently sprouted just for the occasion as both parachute and weapon. Seriously!
Things have come a long way from the days of my youth when Japanese animation meant (no one I knew had heard of “anime” back then) Speed Racer, Trixie, Spritle, and Chim-Chim! I probably would have been scarred for life if Chim-Chim had grown a giant pair of nuts and leapt out of the Mach V’s trunk.
Let the record reflect: I am opposed to animated woodland creatures with ginormous gonads. That’s just wrong.
Postscript: No, I didn’t dream the whole thing. Apparently this is what I saw.
Back in May of last year I blogged about this wonderful satire I discovered on Amazon.com in the guise of product reviews by one “Smith T. Aames”. Unfortunately Amazon apparently had them all taken down and I feared they were lost.
Until I found this: Journal of the Bizarre where the author has archived many of these brilliant reviews, as well as other curiosities and comedy. It’s definitely worth a look.
So, I was perusing cafepress.com, like I do sometimes. Imagine my surprize when the search term mandolin returned this.
Seriously, what the hell is wrong with people?
Thankfully, it also turned up this, so all was not lost.
According to this story from my local news, a guy on a bicycle ran a stop sign and hit a car.
Police said the cyclist may have been distracted; evidently he was wearing headphones, carrying two backpacks and (here comes the crazy part) a cage with “some kind” of an animal.
The cyclist, sadly, is in serious condition. No word on the condition of the (I’m guessing) marmot.
Group Condemns Chicken Choking Toy
SYDNEY, Australia - A chicken toy that squawks and flaps its wings when strangled is “grossly irresponsible” and sends the wrong message to young children, a spokesman for a leading animal welfare group said Tuesday. Full story here.
Just wait til they introduce the “Monkey Spanking” toy!
Years ago, living in Chattanooga, my house was invaded by Starlings. They found a hole in the eave and built a nest, essentially in my bathroom ceiling. You know how they say “the early bird gets the worm”? Well, I do not want the worm, nor do I get up early, unless I’m going fishing or something, in which case I will gladly purchase the worms from the ‘early bird’. Unfortunately, my little avian invaders and I weren’t on the same page in this regard. They were definately early risers, and noisy little buggers to boot.
I tried ignoring them, I tried chasing them away, finally they pushed me beyond rational thought and I went to K-mart, bought a pellet gun, hunted them down, and killed them (then returned the pellet gun for a refund… take that, K-mart!)
Now, if these had been Robins, Cardinals, Wrens or any other of a multitude of ‘good’ birds, I would have called whoever you call about such things and tried to have them relocated.
But they weren’t, they were Starlings! Introduced, non-native avian vermin pushing out the native songbirds, looking ugly and making way too much noise.
Anyway, I’m telling you that story to set up this story, from Chattanoogan.com:
Grape Attacks On Starlings Begins Monday Evening
posted September 9, 2005
The attack on swarms of starlings in downtown Chattanooga begins next Monday evening, City Forester Gene Hyde said.
Continuing for three straight nights, the city of Chattanooga will be using the services of a company called “Flockfighters” which specializes in dispersing populations of nuisance birds. The goal is to try to persuade the starlings to find new roosting sites away from sensitive downtown locations, it was stated.
For approximately 30 minutes each night around dusk Flockfighters will be fogging selected starlings roosts with a food grade ingredient which is derived from Concord grapes. This material persuades the birds to leave the area. The effects are temporary and felt only by birds. Humans and other mammals may detect a pleasant grape scent but are not otherwise affected, officials said.
Because the small fogging machines are quite loud, the city will divert pedestrian traffic around the treatment areas for the 30 minutes these machines are in use.
Fogging operations will be conducted in the following areas:
1. The intersection of Broad and Second Streets.
2. The 1200 block of Market Street.
I’m curious to see how well this works. Although, somehow I don’t think I would have derived the same sick pleasure from spraying the little bastards with grape juice that I did from shooting them. But that’s just me. Plus when you’re dealing with tens or even hundreds of thousands; well, that’s just too much shooting.
From MSN, here’s further proof the world has gone mad:
According to a report in the U.K.’s Daily Mail, one school in the town of Wellingborough is allowing pupils to swear at teachers, providing they only do so no more than five times in a class.
“Within each lesson the teacher will initially tolerate (although not condone) the use of the f-word (or derivatives) five times and these will be tallied on the board so all students can see the running score,” the Daily Mail quoted White as writing in a letter. “Over this number the class will be spoken to by the teacher at the end of the lesson.”
Click here for full story
This has to be one of the stupidest things I’ve seen recently. When I was a kid, using the “f-word”, or any derivative, just once during class would earn you a quick trip to the principal’s office; where he would “speak to you”… right before he spanked your ass with a paddle! And you know what? We didn’t curse at our teachers, ever. Such a thing was incomprehensible; I can just imagine the shocked silence after a kid cursed at a teacher in more civilized times.
Welcome to the age of diminished civility, increased hostility, and lowered expectations.
You know there will be at least one little smart-ass who will save up and drop all 5 “F-bombs” right at the end of class.
Fuck yeah they will, the fucked up little fuckers.