It's Not What You Think

Not this guy.
Headline of the day: Drunk badger disrupts traffic.
Honestly, it's not even about Wisconsin. We must be slipping.


Headline of the day: Drunk badger disrupts traffic.
Honestly, it's not even about Wisconsin. We must be slipping.
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Washington Post for sale? No problem!
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Marriage in Limbo
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What five things do you say all the time? What words or phrases would friends associate with you?
Me: 1. Yaaaaah. 2. Squirrel nut. 3. Jesus tits. 4. Shut up, ho. 5. I KNOW RIGHT?!
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I can't tell if this stuff makes me nostalgic for my twenties or glad they're over.
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Amen, hallelujah. ExceptI say we first make them all get gay married to each other and then we give them death via sodomy using said slob-cycles turned into dildo vibrators as the instruments of their execution.
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This whole thread is pretty much made of win:
Like Elmo, I also want to meet Michelle Obama while I’m pantsless.
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I don’t remember that scene from Avenue Q at all.
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Welcome to the QTBS, where we have never, ever, grabbed Wolverine's nut sack...
- I don’t know anything about the movie “The Hood Chronicles” but I suddenly want to see it.
- Wisconsin’s governor requires all of us at the U to take a furlough of 8 days a year if his budget gets passed. Yes, that includes professors, which makes no sense. I wonder if I can take them all during finals week…
- This was one of the saddest things I’ve read in a while. It’s more proof that if you have a job, hang on to it for dear life. There are no guarantees.
- Conversely, this pisses me off. Anna Quindlen decides that she should gracefully exit because there are all these good, young people out there bursting for jobs and she should step aside. Uh… No… You should gut up and decide you’re going to be ten times better than you are right now and 50 times better than those idiots are and ride the column until you CAN’T do it well any more and they pry it from your cold, dead hands. That’s what good journalists do.
- And here I am worried that the Midget will rat me out for cursing at another driver. Just goes to show, it could always be worse…
- First, ARod, now Manny? What’s next? The Queen’s horse tests positive for doping? Ooops…
- Goodnight, Dom. Sorry you never got your due…
- Three organizations with a vested interest in not helping anyone are fighting against one organization with a vested self-interest in seeing more ethanol integrated into gasoline. Hmm… which group of scummy weasels to believe… Not to sound mean, but doesn’t the federal government own every group and organization that’s involved in decision at this point? Can’t it just do what parents do with kids: “You two, knock it off or I’m coming up there and you won’t like it!”
- From the “Is there such a thing as a ‘love you crime?’” file: The folks in Massachusetts are extending hate-crimes protection to homeless people. Given the state of the economy, it’s likely to have far-reaching implications. Seriously, though, should this even be an issue? At what point can we finally say: “Look, you, the well-paid, quasi-religious, straight, white guys. You can kick the shit out of each other but nobody else.”
- Quick show of hands: When Bush trumpeted hydrogen-powered cars in 2003, how many people saw this coming?
- From the “Meet the new boss. Same as the old boss” department: FEMA is still screwing over the state of Louisiana. From the brain trust:
Stay classy, FEMA. May the trailers not reek like a smelly pirate hooker when you get them back...
- And finally, what would LeBron do? Obviously not what the kid in dunk #4 did. Ouch.
Thanks for letting me share your air. Be back next week.
Doc
We don't need to keep everything, okay?
She first saw her father's historic war memento about 10 years ago, then not again until April 19 when a Cook County bomb squad took the land mine after officers determined the bomb was live and confiscated it.
"I don't think it would have gone off, unless of course a vehicle had driven on it," Welch said, adding that her father never physically handled the land mine as if it was dangerous.
Her sister even snapped a photo of the bomb before police evacuated the home, as well as a few neighboring homes.
Welch and her family were cleaning out the basement of her parents' home in the 7700 block of Bristol Park Drive when they found the land mine on a work bench. DiCarlo died almost five years ago. Welch's mother and DiCarlo's wife, Mary, died earlier this month.
To be safe, Welch's family called Tinley Park police. Then the bomb squad arrived.
An Army military officer during the war, DiCarlo likely confiscated the land mine from a prisoner, Welch said. The bomb traveled from Texas, where DiCarlo was stationed in the early 1940s, to the many homes Carmen and Mary DiCarlo shared in the Southland. After Texas, they moved to Chicago, then to Harvey, to Chicago Ridge and finally to Tinley Park, where the DiCarlos lived since 1997.
Welch was somewhat surprised to find the land mine, but she said her father was a pack rat.
Obviously a very good one.
Heh.
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Glenn Beck is good for America after all:
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Between the Vatican and the Freepi, we need some funny:
DAY 36: Realizing there are 489 people working in the West Wing, Rahm Emanuel tells his secretary to stop buying cupcakes for everybody's birthday.
DAY 35: Negotiations between the House and Senate versions of the DC Voting Rights bill nearly break down when Senator Arlen Specter insists on keeping his doodle of a three-legged pony in the bill.
DAY 34: During a difficult moment of a televised address, President Obama debuts the evil-looking sock puppet that will speak on all unpopular matters from now on.
DAY 33: President Obama still hasn't updated his Twitter account, leaving millions of tweeple tweet-deprived for over a month.
DAY 32: Vice-President Joe Biden curses HotGunner79 for outbidding him at last minute on 1970's Navy bomber jacket.
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I didn't know the kids still said "macking" these days:
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Via LJ.
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So I was listening to an interview from last week on a show called Spark -- CBC Radio's internet-culture and new technology program.
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You can shut down the Internet, people. Its true purpose has been realized.
(Seriously, I don't know why I love the groundhog so much. Maybe it's that it looks like an obese ferret, or because animals are inherently hilarious, or local civic rituals are inherently hilarious, or something, but everything to do with the groundhog charms me senseless.)
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From "Down the Drain - The Legacy of George W. Bush." Well, I can't think of anything to add. No words, anyway.
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I know where I'd be buying a couch.
Hat tip to Wisconsin's own Big Money Blog. Check 'em out!
True high school story. I have never in my life had a worse day at any job, and I've had jobs where people threatened to fuck, sue and kill me. I don't know what the owner was smoking asking me to start that day. I didn't know how to do anything. I didn't know what flowers were what, how the cash register worked, how the order system worked, what to say when I answered the (one, non-cordless, incredibly loud) phone. I had no idea who any of the florists were so even when I did answer the phone I couldn't identify who the call was for, I didn't know the delivery drivers' routes or their names or the hours they worked.
Certainly no one was in a position to train me. When I asked questions people yelled. I couldn't blame them. The customer sitch was like that scene in I Am Legend where the creatures keep throwing themselves on the glass. I didn't understand why these baseball-capped douchebags were coming in at 9 p.m. freaking the fuck out because they'd forgotten it was Valentine's — like, it's kind of inescapable, read a calendar, Chipster — and we didn't have any roses left for them. Men kept coming in demanding something, anything, buy me out of the doghouse somehow. The cherry on top of this shit sundae was the woman who came in hauling an arrangement sent by an apparent stalker and THREW IT AT US. I felt for her, but Jesus.
I wish I could say the job got better, but note to the job market newbies: A boss oblivious enough to hire a 16-year-old with no experience to start on Valentine's Day without any training is not a boss that fosters an environment any more hospitable than the inside of Satan's asshole. I lasted six months because I hated quitting anything, but I quit the shit out of that job. It was giving me an ulcer.
But working at a sex shop on Valentine's Day is apparently SO MUCH WORSE.
Oldie but goodie via, in a roundabout way, Metaquotes.
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One wise man to another: We can just have some fun! It's Christmas.
My three-year-old goddaughter was here the other day so, since my house is kid-proof but not necessarily kid-fun (I need a box of toys for visiting moppets or something) we broke out the Fraggle Rock DVDs. She liked the singing and the dancing and Red's flappy pigtails, but her mother and I, having not seen the show since we were kids ourselves, were kind of weirdly fascinated and horrified. The Henson workshop must have been powered by the finest hallucinogens known to man or beast, because holy hell, this stuff was weird.
Yet, fun. I always loved the Fraggle pseudo-Yule-Christmas-Thing, where all the Fraggles have to ring their bells or the Great Bell won't ring and their rock will go cold and spring won't come. But Gobo, known in my house as the Fraggle Most Like My Baby Brother, decides he has to go see the Great Bell for himself, accompanied by the strangeoid priest-like dude, and he can't find the bell:
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If I had a yard, I'd totally be all over this. I'm sure we could get over the lack of laser beams.
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You know I love Anthony Bourdain like I love my own left breast but every time on his show that he whips out some sweetbreads or boar intestine or whatever and talks about how tasty it is fried with some testicles I start screaming at the TV. We don't need to eat that stuff anymore. Though we're not quite at flying cars yet I think most of us can probably safely stop gnawing on the assholes of various mammals for amusement. I feel the same way about this: There is a KFC almost everywhere now and we don't need to make creme bruleé out of come.
On a similar note, my mother recently gave me a cook book put out by what appears to have been the entirety of the 1950s home cooking school of thought. The way I know it was the 50s is that under "appetizers" it lists margaritas, brandy slushes, and Long Island iced teas.
I think those are listed in the hopes that you slam a few down before the meal and don't notice the selections of salads: Strawberry Congealed Salad. Mystery Salad. Quickie Salad. Frosted Raspberry Jello. I'm sure somewhere in here is that weirdly filthy alleged salad of a pineapple ring with a banana stuck through it. Then there's the beef dishes, the cooking instructions for which are almost always "put all ingredients in dish and bake:" Dreamy Spaghetti Casserole. Taste-of-Taco Spaghetti. Lazy Man's Meat Rolls. Magical Mushroom Pot Roast. MOCK FILET MIGNON. What on earth was going on back then that we needed to resort to that?
The fish dishes are even better: Salmon Loaf and on the next page, Super Salmon Loaf. Something called "On The Wharf" which in addition to a fish dish is also a musical and a porno. Dockside Delights, same deal. The whole thing scared the shit out of me. I read some of them to my father as he was driving us down the road the other night, and he nearly drove into a ditch when I got to something called, simply, "Puppy Chow."
There's also recipes for useful things like German potato salad which I love and could eat by the gallon but have never made myself, and pot roast which really is best when made by someone who remembers the 50s personally, but I was tempted to pull out a few of the weirder ones in here and send them to whoever makes up the challenges for Iron Chef. Your secret ingredient is ... The Eisenhower Years!
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Kids' toys can be downright creepy:
Via Metaquotes.
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Seeing this line in a story about the Georgia runoff—
Martin is touring the state Monday with prominent Georgia Democrats, including Rep. John Lewis of Atlanta. He'll cap the day with a state Capitol rally with the Atlanta hip hop artist Ludacris.
—reminded me of my very favorite Ludacris video ever, in which he PWNS Martha Stewart at origami:
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Why are all local car commercials universally of the suck? This is a particularly egregious example but there's a remarkable uniformity to the shittiness of production values, ineptitude of spokespeople and general assiness of appearance in these things that crosses locations, brands, etc. Do they all get together in one place each year and say, "Let's make something so horrendously annoying that while it accomplishes the aim of having people talk about it, it will also inspire them to give our dealerships the finger every time they drive by?" What? Help me out here.
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- Here’s a perfect example of why letting computers do the work for you might not always be the best idea. Usually database pairing of ads with a story works. Here, not so much. “Hey, there was just a school shooting in Savannah! I wonder what it’d be like to go down there and enjoy the trolley!”
- From the “Think, verify, then report” department: I wonder how many times people are going to get all sexed up by some Web site that tells them some “insider” information before they start to realize that an internet connection and a cursory class on PhotoShop can set up an “Insta-Hoax” in about 20 minutes. First rule of journalism: If your mother says she loves you, go check it out. Internet corollary: Ask mom. Don’t look it up on a Wikipedia…
- Of course you didn’t always need the internet to put on a good hoax. This one was officially debunked today in 1953.
- MTV finally did something we all had been hoping they’d do for about five years now. Still, it’s one of the coolest databases ever. Of course, you’ve likely been looking for (and finding) most of this stuff on YouTube, but hey, let’s not be upset that MTV’s coming late to the party and be grateful they showed up at all. Of the 16,000+ videos uploaded, they’ve yet to add this classic, which I remember watching at my grandmother’s house eons ago when she had cable and we didn’t.
- Sadly, it seems post-West Wing work is kind of hard to find these days for Aaron Sorkin’s acting troupe. Saw Toby (Richard Schiff) as a soon-to-be-dead guy on Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles and last night Will (Joshua Malina) was pooping in a dish for the woman he loves on Gray’s Anatomy.
- Then again, it could be worse…
- And finally, here’s your one-stop shopping site for governmental stupidity. Enjoy…
Thanks for letting me share your air. See you next Friday.
Doc
First, he becomes the presumptive nominee. Then the free-fall. After that, he gets an unexpected lift at the RNC. But it turns out that Sarah Palin was driving the ambulance. And then, well, you can see for yourself.
Time Cube Guy endorses McCain.
I'm personally holding off on voting to see if the Weasel Ball guys offer me any guidance:
All your life you have wanted to order something from a website called WeaselBalls.com. That day has arrived. If you order more than one, you can tell everybody you know that you "bought some weasel balls off of the internet." The story alone is worth the purchase price several times over. If you so desire, we will write, at no cost to you "CAUTION: WEASEL BALLS INSIDE" on the outside of the box. We are completely 100% serious. Your mail carrier will think you are so awesome. If you desire to be less awesome, we can mask the fact that you just ordered something from a website called WeaselBalls.com. We will work with you to fulfill your Weasel Ball needs.[snip]
The weasel fur is made of acrylic, a synthetic fabric that is not derived from an animal. If you're a vegan, or you just own a pair of birkenstocks -- have no qualms about ordering a Weasel Ball, for it is neither real nor edible. You should never ever attempt to eat the weasel. The previous sentence is a good general guideline on how to live your life.
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My people: Making me proud.