The New York Post says her layout shows a "well-defined, yet very sexy feminine look." Gibson will be in the next issue, strangely right around the time her new single called "Naked" is released.
2005-01-25
Shake your Love takes on a whole new meaning
Deborah Gibson goes nude for 'Playboy'
The New York Post says her layout shows a "well-defined, yet very sexy feminine look." Gibson will be in the next issue, strangely right around the time her new single called "Naked" is released.
The New York Post says her layout shows a "well-defined, yet very sexy feminine look." Gibson will be in the next issue, strangely right around the time her new single called "Naked" is released.
True Stuff & Nonsense
Brent Brown, 25, called a pizza delivery woman he had just robbed to apologize and to ask her out on a date. Brown defense? "I'm innocent," he said. "I work every day. I have no reason to rob the pizza lady."
In Thailand, they taught elephants to paint, dance and play musical instruments. So why not toilet-training the pachyderms?
The Denver Police Department has a staunch Bush supporter on the force. The sergeant allegedly threatened to arrest 26-year-old Shasta Bates for displaying a 'profane' anti-Bush bumper sticker. This harkens back to the Secret Service going after a Georgia man for bumper stickers that relate "hell with Bush" and that refer to the president as a "two-faced murderer." Bumper stickers are a sticky subject for this administration.
Oh, and that guy that auctioned off space on his forehead for advertisement? He got $37,375.
In Thailand, they taught elephants to paint, dance and play musical instruments. So why not toilet-training the pachyderms?
My question: who wipes?
The Denver Police Department has a staunch Bush supporter on the force. The sergeant allegedly threatened to arrest 26-year-old Shasta Bates for displaying a 'profane' anti-Bush bumper sticker. This harkens back to the Secret Service going after a Georgia man for bumper stickers that relate "hell with Bush" and that refer to the president as a "two-faced murderer." Bumper stickers are a sticky subject for this administration.
Oh, and that guy that auctioned off space on his forehead for advertisement? He got $37,375.
£2,500 haggis
with proceeds going to the tsunami appeal.
Contents of the Trunk
14 people have come together to write with a common theme. A driver, the law and a trunk with contents the driver doesn't want the law to see. The results you read will play with the theme, somewhat ignore the theme, gently caress the theme or take the theme, and the reader, into the dark places that reside inside of all of us.
Below you will find my waltz (with plenty of stepping on toes) with the theme.
Below you will find my waltz (with plenty of stepping on toes) with the theme.
Dave Zeltserman,
Duane Swierczynski,
Gerald So,
Graham Powell,
J.S. Jordan,
John Rickards,
I Must not Think Bad Thoughts
Derek McPherson saw the red and blue lights flashing in the rear view mirror and twin thoughtsraced though his mind as he signaled, then pulled over to the shoulder.
The first, “Please, please don’t look in the fucking trunk,” followed quickly by “God, this could all be fucking over if they would just look in the fucking trunk.”
The second thought didn’t last long. There would be cuffs on the spot, no questions asked. It would kill his mother when she found out. Literally kill her. Dead. And his father? Just another fuck-up in a long list of fuck-ups, starting early when Derek didn’t make it into peewee football.
“Wuss,” his dad said.
“He’s just a delicate boy,” his mom had pleaded.
“He’s a fuckin’ wuss,” said his dad dismissively. He lifted a finger off the remote and wagged it at his mom. “You made him that way.”
“God made him the way he is. If God is perfect than so is Derek.”
“Then God is a wuss.”
That was straw that broke the camel’s back and next turned round and spat in its eye as far as Derek’s parents were concerned. But it was just the beginning of Derek’s failures in his father’s eyes. He figured out early that he’d be better off just learning to live with utter humiliation. Suck it up, like his dad told him to.
So, nothing new there.
But a few things had changed since then.
Derek had finally found someone he was willing to suck it up for.
He lived in mortal fear of disappointing Zooey. His full blown, worst nightmare come true would be her finding him substandard or inadequate. He’d been through a break-up with one woman he loved with all his heart and it almost killed him. He wouldn’t survive it again.
As he sat behind the wheel of the ancient Buick, he looked in the rearview mirror. The state trooper was doing the check on his license plate. Derek knew he had all of a minute to get himself together. No matter what, he had to keep his cool. Running a hand threw his hair, he sighed deeply then shuddered.
He repeated his mantra to himself under his breath, trying to gain control.
But the image of what was in that trunk shot into his mind and he couldn’t shake it.
If the trooper headed for the trunk, Derek knew he was done. He may as well just eat a bullet from the guy’s service pistol right there on the road out of Brixton.
“Shit!”
After so long, to have it all blow up in his face because of a traffic stop was ridiculous. Stupid! And so fucking typical. He wasn’t speeding. He was being so careful not to go too fast. What the hell went wrong?
“Fuck!”
Derek began to say his mantra again and didn’t stop until the knock on the window.
2 months earlier
Breaking up was hard to do. What a crock of shit, thought Derek. Breaking up is the first stage of a complete fucking nervous breakdown followed by years of bitterness and a lifetime of commitment phobia. After a few beers Gavin got to hear all about. Again.
“First, first there’s that actual moment when you realize the whole relationship is fucked. That’s bad enough. Four years of your life down the fucking drain.”
Derek slammed another empty bottle of Bud on the bar and signaled for another round.
“Then that teary screamfest when she tells you. Tell her it’s your fault, Gav. Never, ever, tell her it’s her fault. Cause you’ll get your ears screamed off and she’ll beat the shit out of you. Look, I’ve still got the bruises.” Derek started untucking his shirt when Gavin quickly grabbed it and pulled it back down. He looked nervously around him but it was Friday and everyone was too drunk to care about Derek’s latest tirade.
“But the worst part of the whole thing, the absolute worst part? Trying to get your stuff out of the apartment. The apartment with both your names on the lease that is full of all the shit you bought together. All of that shit is suddenly hers. She’s keeping the fucking Silver Surfer poster, Gav! Stan Lee signed that poster! She doesn’t even know who the fuck the Silver Surfer is!”
“Derek, this was, like, a week ago that you broke up with her.”
“What, you think I’m going to get over something like that in a week? No, this a lifetime’s worth of hurt she’s given me.” Derek shook his head sorrowfully and necked his beer to the last drop while the next was delivered. Then he turned, mouth open, to further exorcise his Holly demons to Gavin. His pal. His confessor. His best friend. But Gavin was otherwise engaged with a leggy blonde smiling at him over sips from her wine cooler.
“Um, excuse, me. Uh, hello?”
Gavin and the blonde slowly turned to look at Derek.
“I was having an important conversation with my friend.”
“Nope, we’re done.” Gavin said when the girl frowned. He picked up his jacket and steered the blonde to a table in the back.
“But, Gav…”
“Derek, she dumped you.”
“Yeah, and…”
“For another guy.”
“I know. But…”
“You want her back?”
“No.”
“Good. A step in the right direction.”
“But,”
“Just deal with it, Derek. Fuck. It’s been a whole fucking week!”
Derek stared, mouth agape, at Gavin’s retreating back. Then he swung back to his beer.
“Just get over it,” Derek mimicked. “Right. She threw me out on the streets! She hit me! She kept the dog, for Chrissake! I’m the one that brought that fucking dog home from the pound!”
Buzzed and in full misery wallow, Derek put a twenty on the bar to pay his tab. He looked up at the flashing television screen as he zipped up his jacket. An ad for eConnections played silently to an oblivious crowd. Couple after couple on the screen stood against a bulging red heart background as they held hands, nuzzling, happy. Derek felt sad and old, suddenly.
“Don’t want to stay alive, when you’re twenty-five.”
He turned to go and saw the same ad on the television on the front wall. Standing stock still, Derek was hit by sudden inspiration and, rarer still, a small patter of hope. Those nobodies on the screen found someone. Surely he could.
“Fucking dog never liked me, anyway.”
Derek headed home, humming happily, as he mentally wrote a description of himself.
After wading through Lady Seeks Knight in Shining Armor, Horny Mom and Marriage Needed to Access Trust Fund, Derek found a match.
She’d sounded great, no, perfect, in the description:
And Under that Star I was Born
But I’m no Juliet looking for a Romeo and I don’t suffer from Othello syndrome. I’m just a literate girl with gallows humor looking for a boy to swing at the end of my rope. No drugs, no kids, no kidding. You don’t have to be serious to be taken seriously.
Her photo depicted a pretty but not too beautiful girl with a gleam in her eyes that spoke volumes. Derek was more than ready to listen. Coming out of a four year relationship that had ended with his fiancée leaving him for the dog groomer and taking the dog had left him shattered and hopeless. He wasn’t ready for anything serious. But, God, he needed to be taken seriously. Their first date, after a series of gently probing and sarcastic emails, was sublime.
Gavin had sent him off like a preening, gay Dad.
“Don’t wear that shirt. Fuck, Derek, you look like you shop at St. Vincent’s. Well, I know you do, but you don’t have to look like you do. Here let me put this in your hair. It’s gel. I swear to God you won’t look like Cameron Diaz. You should be so lucky. Have you got condoms? It could happen. How can you not be ready? You’re a guy!”
Derek and Zooey walked into the coffee shop at the same time, literally bumping into each other. With quiet apologies, they separated then looked back at the other with mutually raised eyebrows.
“Derek. I’m Zooey. Great to finally meet you.” She held out her hand. Derek took it, and received a firm handshake. “Let’s sit at a booth. I like to stretch out.”
Docilely, Derek followed behind as Zooey cut through the crowd like an icebreaker in the Arctic Ocean. Zooey chose their booth. Zooey ordered their coffee (fair trade!). Zooey decided they should go to dinner (Thai!). Then Zooey decided to take him home. She had her own condoms, thanks anyway.
When Derek woke the next morning, Zooey was in the shower and he was sore as hell. They’d had sex on every flat surface in the place with Zooey directing, posing and pulling him until he begged her for release. He smiled and sighed contentedly.
Easing himself out of bed, he yawned and stretched then followed a beautiful coffee smell. As he walked past the mirrored closet doors, he paused, brows furrowed. Turning his back to the mirrors he could see that he had bruises and a couple of long scratches on his back. Looking down, he saw more bruises on his chest and arms.
“Hmmmpf.” Derek primped a bit, rubbed his hand over a handprint on his thigh, shrugged, then headed for the kitchen, whistling the whole way. No mantras need apply.
When Zooey got out of the shower she sauntered into the kitchen and, without a word, pushed him down into a kitchen chair.
“Good morning!” Derek grinned then extended his lips for a kiss.
Zooey grabbed his coffee, put it on the table and sat facing him on his lap. Derek was pleased.
“I see. Well…”
Smiling, she grabbed him and started where she’d left off the night before.
By that afternoon, Derek would have willingly picked up tampons from the store then shaved his head, held up a day care and eaten a cat turd if she’d asked him to. He was in love.
Within a few weeks, Derek and Zooey had settled into a routine that featured her sex driven ideas quickly followed by his capitulation. When Gavin asked to meet the woman that had healed Derek’s crushed and beer-soaked heart, Derek was excited. Then worried.
What if she saw something in Gavin that she didn’t see in him? Gavin wasn’t a bad looking guy. He had a nice car, a good job. What if Zooey went for him? No. They would never meet. Derek would make sure of that. He came up with a series of deferments, each more ridiculous than the last, until Gavin, annoyed and hurt, stopped asking. Their friendship became strained but Derek was too sated by Zooey to notice.
Zooey never asked about Gavin. Or anyone else in his life, for that matter. She never asked about his favorite color, his middle name or what he wanted to be when he grew up. She took over his life and became a cult with him as the only brainwashed follower. Derek was too sated by Zooey to notice.
But the most docile of sheep have their breaking point. And it is one of life’s chuckling ironies that the sheep are always too far gone to be able to do anything but bleat as they wait for the axe to fall.
The latest idea for a sex-escapade bordered on the impossible and was the most frightening thing Derek had ever been asked to do. It never occurred to him to say no.
That is why, a week later, he found himself waiting in the underground parking lot of Zooey’s building. When he heard the distinctive rattle of her engine approach, he pulled a hood down over his head. It was a bad time to realize he’d done a shit job of cutting the eyeholes but the plan had to move forward.
As the car sputtered to a stop, Derek crept from behind the pillar. Walking softly and carrying a big length of rope, he approached. Zooey stood, pulling her work out gear from the trunk. Just as they had practiced, Derek grabbed her from behind and held her fast to him. She uttered an inarticulate and angry noise before he got a chance to put the duct tape over her mouth. Then he placed a hood similar to his own over her head and wrestled her into the trunk. Tying the ropes tightly, but not too tightly, around her wrists, he couldn’t help but worry that he was hurting her.
“I’m sorry, Zooey, if it hurts.”
An irate ‘mmmmm’ sounded came from the trunk before he slammed the lid down. Sliding behind the wheel, he quickly hot-wired the car and took off. Just before he hit the street, he remembered to take the hood off.
He was well out of town when he saw the lights in the rearview mirror. He slipped the hood under the seat and freaked out.
The knock on the window, anticipated as it was, made Derek jump. He rolled down the window and looked up at the khaki clad state trooper staring down at him in the last light of the day.
Upon request, Derek duly handed over his license and waited for an agonizing ten minutes for the trooper to return.
“Would you step out of the car, sir?”
“What did I do wrong?”
“Just step out of the car.”
Derek unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car.
“Would you please walk to the side of the road, sir?”
“OK,” nervous and unsure, Derek walked, staring back every few steps to see where the trooper was. He was watching Derek very closely and waited until Derek reached the shoulder to follow him.
“Sir, did you know that you where driving only twenty miles and hour?”
“What?”
“That’s twenty-five miles under the limit. Have you had any alcoholic beverages or taken any illegal drugs today?”
“I don’t even like to take aspirin.”
“Let me take a look at your eyes, sir.”
The trooper came closer and took a close look at Derek’s eyes and sniffed the air when Derek exhaled.
“Are you on any kind of medication?”
“Um, no.”
“Is there any particular reason you were driving so slow?”
“I didn’t know I was. I guess I’ve got a lot on my mind.” Derek’s eyes went to the trunk and back. The trooper’s eyes followed.
As the trooper turned toward the Buick a pick-up came speeding down the road, clipping the trooper’s car as it sped off.
“Shit!”
“He hit your car!”
“No shit, Sherlock!”
The trooper radioed in this latest affront to the law and pointed a finger at Derek,
“You’re damn lucky he came along, fella!”
With the choice between the dim-witted Derek and the asshole that violated his vehicle, the trooper jumped into his car and took off, lights and siren on full blast. The wheels kicked up a cloud of dust that had barely settled before the coughing Derek was once again behind the wheel.
Heading for the empty lot Zooey had told him about, he kept his eyes glued to the speedometer, barely looking up to see where he was going. He spoke his mantra in a frantic voice.
The lot was a welcome site. Derek drove along the dirt road to a mostly collapsed barn. When he got out of the car, he bent over and gagged. He wasn’t made for this kind of stress. He waited until he had himself mostly under control again then went back and opened the trunk.
Zooey was wriggling and making more angry ‘mmmmmm’ noises.
He was about to heft her out of the trunk, but decided to check on her first.
He grabbed the hood and pulled it off.
It wasn’t Zooey.
“Ohmigod!” Hands to his mouth, Derek could feel the bile rise in his throat.
“Oh, fuck!”
He grabbed the corner of the duct tape and ripped it off.
“Jesus fucking Christ!”
The woman who was not Zooey sat up, spitting and swearing. She glared at Derek as Derek stood, mouth open, hands unconsciously pulling at the hair on his head.
She glared, then spat.
“What are you waiting for?”
“What?”
“What the fuck are you waiting for?”
Derek stared.
“Hello? Kidnapper? Rapist? What are you waiting for?”
“I don’t understand.”
“No shit, Sherlock!”
“But, I…” He walked to the trunk and stared down at the sputtering woman. “Why aren’t you screaming?”
“Oh, you need me to scream? Anything to get the ball rolling.” And she began to scream.
“No, no. Stop!” Derek bent down, put a hand over her mouth, holding her gently to him with the other hand. “Please, please, don’t scream.”
He pulled away from her to see her scowling.
“Zooey told me you could do this. She promised me you could handle this.”
“You know Zooey?”
She stared at him for a second, then rolled her eyes.
“I’m her sister. Zudi? See any family resemblance?”
And looking closely, Derek did.
“She didn’t tell me you were this stupid,” Zudi huffed. “But she was right about one thing.”
“What was that?”
“You are a babe.”
With that, Zudi wrapped her legs around him and pulled him into the trunk. He landed heavily on top of her and had just enough time to notice the lid of the trunk coming down before it did, latching into place.
Zudi withdrew her tongue from his mouth.
“What the Hell are we going to do now?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I… I…,”
“But, you’re a guy!”
Derek said nothing.
“Fuck!”
Zudi rolled out from under from him and with her hands still tied together began pounding on the trunk and yelling for help.
Derek lay tucked tightly behind her, muttering his mantra.
2005-01-24
Oh, the evil possibilites...
Atom.smasher.org has created an Error Message Montage for those with computer issues, work issues, brain issues or just plain bored issues.
NYC Declares Snow Emergency, But Some Can't Resist Playing in the Snow
I've been a huge Keith Snyder fan since I got The Nightmen for Christmas one year. It is a brilliant book, still up there in my favorites of all time and it led me to Coffin's got the Dead Guy Inside which had me laughing out loud in my sisters apartment as she slept in the next room. I lay on the couch all night, stifling giggles and holding my sides.
Anyway, Keith, author, musician and bicycling demon, is a very nice and determined man, as is evidenced by his latest escapade which I've copied below.
So there I am, tired of leg, serene of spirit, cold of toe, bright of eye, four blocks from home after my annual First Blizzard of the Year Bicycle Pilgrimage to Forest Park. I'm riding on the sidewalk because I got tired of stopping every 30 seconds for cars, and a guy steps out of a dark blue Eyewitness News van and aims a video camera at me. I know a "weirdos who go out in blizzards" news story when I be one, so I grin at the guy, and the van window rolls down and a pretty reporter asks if they can talk to me.
Sure, I say. So first I wait while they get footage of a man and his cute baby, and then we do a short interview. I manage a semi-funny line or two, which I figure might make it onto the air. They've been gathering footage in various locations all day, so there's a lot of competition, I'm sure, for what can't be that much airtime.
But I believe I will be on the 11:00 Eyewitness News tonight. Despite the competition, despite the cute baby... I believe they're going to choose me. Why, you say? Why, Keith? Was it your clever, off-the-cuff badinage? Your funny asides to the camera? The sparkle in your cold-quickened demeanor?
No. It's that while they were getting footage of me riding away, I fell over sideways in the snow.
Eyewitness News New York. 11:00 PM tonight.
And it was. On Channel 7 for all to see.
Dignity. Always dignity.
So there I am, tired of leg, serene of spirit, cold of toe, bright of eye, four blocks from home after my annual First Blizzard of the Year Bicycle Pilgrimage to Forest Park. I'm riding on the sidewalk because I got tired of stopping every 30 seconds for cars, and a guy steps out of a dark blue Eyewitness News van and aims a video camera at me. I know a "weirdos who go out in blizzards" news story when I be one, so I grin at the guy, and the van window rolls down and a pretty reporter asks if they can talk to me.
Sure, I say. So first I wait while they get footage of a man and his cute baby, and then we do a short interview. I manage a semi-funny line or two, which I figure might make it onto the air. They've been gathering footage in various locations all day, so there's a lot of competition, I'm sure, for what can't be that much airtime.
But I believe I will be on the 11:00 Eyewitness News tonight. Despite the competition, despite the cute baby... I believe they're going to choose me. Why, you say? Why, Keith? Was it your clever, off-the-cuff badinage? Your funny asides to the camera? The sparkle in your cold-quickened demeanor?
No. It's that while they were getting footage of me riding away, I fell over sideways in the snow.
Eyewitness News New York. 11:00 PM tonight.
And it was. On Channel 7 for all to see.
Brace yourself, Robin!
Be warned. Today is going to be the most depressing day of the year. By using a complex mathematical formula, psychologist Cliff Arnalls has calculated that misery is going to peak today.
JANUARY BLUES DAY FORMULA:
1/8W+(D-d) 3/8xTQ MxNA.
Where: W: Weather D: Debt d: Money due in January pay T: Time since Christmas Q: Time since failed quit attempt M: General motivational levels NA: The need to take action
1/8W+(D-d) 3/8xTQ MxNA.
Where: W: Weather D: Debt d: Money due in January pay T: Time since Christmas Q: Time since failed quit attempt M: General motivational levels NA: The need to take action
For Cliff, every day's like Sunday. Every day is silent and gray.
We suggest therapy, a lot of sugar, a Swedish massage and a hug. Oh, and puppies! Lots of puppies!
We suggest therapy, a lot of sugar, a Swedish massage and a hug. Oh, and puppies! Lots of puppies!
C'mon, Cliff! Look! Baba's cheerful!
Nutria Nosh as Hunters Host Chili Cook-off
State wildlife officials in Columbia, South Carolina are a tad worried. It seems a large rodent a.k.a. nutria, genus evident by the large, rodential quality of the teeth, is making it's way into the Savannah River Basin.
This nutria, affectionately called Mark, wonders why people don't like him.
He's a nice nutria, a bit smelly, but
he's harmless in an insistent kind of way.
The furry bucktoothed nutria looks like a mix between a beaver and an English gameshow host and weighs up to 20 pounds. Most non-rodents consider them a nuisance. The nutria, that is. Well, the gameshow hosts as well. Back to the nutria.
They eat marsh plants and dig through dams making a big mess all over the place. And when they're not eating, nutria are racing to reach sexual maturity in order to reproduce. They are described by friend and foe alike as prolific.
Louisiana hunters get $4 a pop and residents are encouraged to eat them. A government site has recipes that include stuffed nutria hindquarters, nutria chili and nutria fricassee. Oddly and ironically, it was fur trappers that introduced to them to North Americas from the South. They came just ahead of the Africanized Bees.
Nutria Gumbo
One wonders which wine to serve.
"We'd rather not have them," agency biologist Jay Butfiloski (real name given readily) said. "It may take a while to see what kind of impact they are going to have."
A tasty one, if anyone's paying attention!
2005-01-23
Laps Lawful, Loehrer Lauds
District Court Judge Sally Loehrer threw out five misdemeanor criminal cases filed under Las Vegas law that prohibited strippers from fondling customers during lap dances is unconstitutionally vague. The law is now past tense.
Strippers had been barred from touching or sitting on the customer’s genital area but defense lawyer James Colin said a lack of specifics made the law impossible to enforce. It stated only that strippers and their patrons should not “fondle” or “caress” each other. It would seem licking, petting and poodling were up for grabs in this semantics snafu.
“It’s too confusing,” Colin said. “No one knows.”
Under Loehrer’s ruling, no dancer in the city can be arrested for violating the municipal code. But, the strippers can be violated if they're arresting. The city is considering an appeal.
Strippers had been barred from touching or sitting on the customer’s genital area but defense lawyer James Colin said a lack of specifics made the law impossible to enforce. It stated only that strippers and their patrons should not “fondle” or “caress” each other. It would seem licking, petting and poodling were up for grabs in this semantics snafu.
“It’s too confusing,” Colin said. “No one knows.”
Under Loehrer’s ruling, no dancer in the city can be arrested for violating the municipal code. But, the strippers can be violated if they're arresting. The city is considering an appeal.
Do you speak Engrish?
Bored? Have a lot of time to kill? Looking to fill your daily quota of giggles, guffaws and unintentional snorts?
Then head on over to Engrish.com where Japanese/Chinese/Korean into English translations have gone more than a tad awry.
My favorite so far?
Then head on over to Engrish.com where Japanese/Chinese/Korean into English translations have gone more than a tad awry.
My favorite so far?
Or is it this one:
Modern Drunkard Magazine
That's right. No joke, no typo. Modern Drunkard Magazine is a 50,000-circulation magazine edited by Frank Kelly Rich, an admitted alcoholic who drinks on the job and occasionally blacks out. He touts the cultural benefits of alcohol and terms heavy drinkers an "oppressed minority."
"I think drinking is conducive to a happy family life."
"The most accomplished people have been drinkers."
"Hemingway was a great literary drunk, and I think a lot of teetotalers would trade their lives for his in a second. Alcohol is the great socializer. Can you imagine a world without it? Well, I guess you can -- it's called the Middle East."
The magazine has columns that include:
Dear Concerned Cad:
This month's column: Slurring and Wobbling
Wino Wisdom
“The jukebox is the drunkard’s fireplace.”
Troy B., warming himself to Wheel in the Sky in the Streets of London Pub.
You Know your Drunk When...
"I think drinking is conducive to a happy family life."
"The most accomplished people have been drinkers."
"Hemingway was a great literary drunk, and I think a lot of teetotalers would trade their lives for his in a second. Alcohol is the great socializer. Can you imagine a world without it? Well, I guess you can -- it's called the Middle East."
The magazine has columns that include:
Dear Concerned Cad:
Dear Concerned Cad:
Just a question that popped into my head at the end of happy hour (and me broke again!). Is it possible to be truly happy without being filthy, stinking rich?
—Poor and Unhappy
Dear Poor:
Well, of course it is. As an astute German nobleman once noted, “No matter how rich you are, you can still only drink 16 or 17 liters of beer a day.”
This month's column: Slurring and Wobbling
This cutting off business is not as easy as it looks.
Gin-Soaked Fiction
Wino Wisdom
“The jukebox is the drunkard’s fireplace.”
Troy B., warming himself to Wheel in the Sky in the Streets of London Pub.
You Know your Drunk When...
You’ve only been drunk once in your life, and so far it’s lasted twenty-three years.
You liver has a restraining order on you.
You can tell the difference between a bottle of Jack and a bottle of Jim by the sound they make hitting the back of your head.
Alcoholism doesn’t run in your family—it takes its own sweet time.
You’ve been cut off during communion.
Comics for AlcoholicsLife imitates fungus
A Frenchman, Jean-Luc Josuat-Verges, 48, was lost in a labyrinth of disused mushroom caves at Madiran in the Pyrenees in December. He survived 35 days by eating rotten wood and clay. He went to the deserted caves seeking isolation during a spell of depression which had left him considering suicide.
He was found by three children who were out of school because of a teachers strike. The children alerted police who rescued Josuat-Verges from the caves. French media said he had lost 18 kg (40 lb) and was "weak".
He was found by three children who were out of school because of a teachers strike. The children alerted police who rescued Josuat-Verges from the caves. French media said he had lost 18 kg (40 lb) and was "weak".
2005-01-22
Quote of the Week
"Sometimes when I would come home from school the biggest butterfly or moth you'd ever seen would be just sitting on our front gate. I would climb over the fence, crawl around to the side of the house - anything to avoid having to go through the front gate.
"I have tried to get over it. I walked into the big butterfly cage at the American Museum of Natural History and had the butterflies on me, but that didn't work. I jump out of planes, I could be covered in cockroaches, I do all sorts of things, but I just don't like the feel of butterflies' bodies." - Nicole Kidman
Panda-monium
"Normally they slow down and sleep a lot at this time of year, but it has been so warm in Austria lately that they've been more active than usual."
Yang Yang and Long Hui are also under constant observation by zoo scientists as little is known about the habits of the Giant Panda.
It is hoped the two will mate and return to China as a family group but zoo keepers say that despite their best efforts the pandas are simply much more interested in bamboo than sex.
There are only an estimated 1,600 Giant Pandas left in the wild.
Yorkshire Ripper says, "Please release me, let me go."
"The courts convicted me and now the courts will protect my human rights under Article Eight.
I am no longer an insane or dangerous person and I am not receiving treatment for any form of mental illness and I have not committed any criminal offence in over 25 years."
So says Peter Sutcliffe, breaking a 24 year silence.
Sutcliffe, currently serving life for the brutal murders of 13 women, has made a case for his release by saying he deserves freedom because he is not being treated for mental illness and has not committed a crime for 25 years.
The statement Sutcliffe allegedly wrote to the Home Office also reads:
"I hope to be getting married on or before May 12, 2005. I am looking forward to the wedding date. Since my conviction, never before have I took such a step but I do so to end further speculation into my life.
"My hope is that my stay at Broadmoor will be reviewed and that they will look favourably on my hopes for my future. And I look forward to the day when my wife and I are allowed to live as one under the same roof in matrimonial harmony."
Bush on Bush
WASHINGTON - President Bush's inaugural address, with its emphasis on spreading democracy like oleo in a breadstick factory and eliminating tyranny throughout the world by force or just plain ol' American charm, was not meant to signal a new direction in U.S. foreign policy nor to portray America as arrogant, his father said Saturday.
That has got to be embarrassing. Barely into your second term and your dad has to come out and explain what you were talking about.
"People want to read a lot into it — that this means new aggression or newly assertive military forces," former President Bush told reporters during an informal visit to the White House briefing room. "That's not what that speech is about. It's about freedom."
In Thursday's speech, Bush said: "We will persistently clarify the choice before every ruler and every nation: The moral choice between oppression, which is always wrong, and freedom, which is eternally right." That raised the question whether Bush intended to apply new standards to allies or partners who keep democracy at arm's length and have poor records on human rights.
Did that mean he would pursue democracy in places like China?
What, and make enemies of the people taking our jobs and sending us nifty electronic devices in exchange?
Would he try to reverse moves toward reinstating authoritarian rule in Russia?
Nooooooo. Someone finally should him a map. He was overheard to say, "Damn! Russia's huge! And people live there? What? It gets cold? Pfffffff..... we're not goin' there!"
How far will he go to challenge the nuclear ambitions of North Korea and Iran?
To the corner and back. After that, he'll need a nap and massage.
"It doesn't mean instant change in every country — that's not what he intended," Dad Bush said about his son's second inaugural address.
Just countries with oil. Get with the program, people!
That has got to be embarrassing. Barely into your second term and your dad has to come out and explain what you were talking about.
"People want to read a lot into it — that this means new aggression or newly assertive military forces," former President Bush told reporters during an informal visit to the White House briefing room. "That's not what that speech is about. It's about freedom."
In Thursday's speech, Bush said: "We will persistently clarify the choice before every ruler and every nation: The moral choice between oppression, which is always wrong, and freedom, which is eternally right." That raised the question whether Bush intended to apply new standards to allies or partners who keep democracy at arm's length and have poor records on human rights.
Did that mean he would pursue democracy in places like China?
What, and make enemies of the people taking our jobs and sending us nifty electronic devices in exchange?
Would he try to reverse moves toward reinstating authoritarian rule in Russia?
Nooooooo. Someone finally should him a map. He was overheard to say, "Damn! Russia's huge! And people live there? What? It gets cold? Pfffffff..... we're not goin' there!"
How far will he go to challenge the nuclear ambitions of North Korea and Iran?
To the corner and back. After that, he'll need a nap and massage.
"It doesn't mean instant change in every country — that's not what he intended," Dad Bush said about his son's second inaugural address.
Just countries with oil. Get with the program, people!
Bio Zappa
It seems in honor of the genius and frolicsomeness that was Franz Zappa, scientists around the world have been naming stuff after him.
For added Zappatude, Zappa Quote of the Day:
Why do you necessarily have to be wrong just because a few million people think you are?
Wasn'’t it Jack Kerouac that said, “Even if I have a rug I have too much?
The Big Lewbowski - you either love it or you're confused as hell because of it. Well, my confused friends, here is, in essence, a crib sheet for the movie that touches the heart and soul of weirdo humans everywhere.
"The Dude abides. I don'’t know about you, but I take comfort in that.
It’s good knowin'’ he’'s out there. The Dude. Takin'’ '’er easy for all us sinners. . . ."
It’s good knowin'’ he’'s out there. The Dude. Takin'’ '’er easy for all us sinners. . . ."
The Short and the Tall of It
Compare your height to celebrities and historical figures. Why? Because some nice person took the time to come up with this program for your amusement. Now go!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)