I thought that I was done; finished with the millstone of writing a blog. I had grieved (mostly by eating pudding), accepted my loss (by learning to make pudding) and moved on (by using my pudding as crack-fill after tasting it). But since the world is a large sphere, a notoriously vindictive shape, I have been forced back.

Why? The stupid sings to me. I can hear its song.

Admittedly, it’s a song that sounds like a loop of Goofy saying “gorsh!” while an energized accordion is dropped into a vat of oatmeal, but it is a song nonetheless.

This may be my new purpose for this space, because my old purpose…well, frankly it wasn’t worth a pinch of hammered shit. In retrospect, I cannot even identify it.

Maybe that’s why I stopped showing up.

But now I will listen to the song, and I will tell you what it says.

Yesterday, the song was loud as thousands gathered all across the United States to take part in Tax Day protests. This in itself is not that unusual because taxes rate somewhere near Lindsay Lohan as being universally objectionable. However, this year the protests were especially musical because they were, we are told, the Start of a Grassroots Movement.

I took part in a Grassroots Movement once, but it was only because I ate lawn clippings.

That’s a poo joke, incidentally.

This Grassroots Movement was to be a new chapter in the American experience, when people gathered, in an unrivaled populist throb to relate the opposition of the ‘silent majority’ to the fiscal policies of President Obama.

Neither ‘silent’ nor ‘majority’ are being used correctly in this context.

As a parent of young children, I equate all protests with a collective, slow moving tantrum. A five year old who absolutely must have the yellow fork with the green plate at the picnic and CANNOT POSSIBLE EAT ON ANYTHING ELSE BLEEYAAAAAAH… makes about as much sense as any political activism requiring a mob.

But what they lack in coherence, thought or argument, they make up for with crappy signs. Having studied the information carefully for as long as it took for my panini press to finish ruining a perfectly good sandwich, I have identified the following harmonies within the symphony of stupid:

1. The Rhythmically Obvious; Because they are conservatives and libertarians and whatever the hell the people from Texas are, they still think that it’s 1982 in The Republic of Gilead. As such, they don’t know that to ‘teabag’ someone means to rest your scrotum on their face. Har, har, that’s naughty. Now shut up about it, MSNBC.

2. The Melodiously Dull; The federal debt of the US has been increased to help stimulate the economy. This will result in the destruction of prosperity of future generations. This is true of course, it would be better to resort to soup-lines and Thunder Dome style justice sooner rather than later. Just don’t tell them that the highest income tax bracket was 94 percent during World War II and that this was followed by the greatest economic expansion on American history.

3. The Harmoniously Ignorant: Americans clearly have no idea what in the hell socialism actually means. Try paying 60 percent income tax and slaving your life away in the Agnetha Fältskog Memorial Lingonberry Jam Collective and then see what you think, Jimmy Arkansas.

4. The Chorus of the Simple; Many tax protesters appear to be unaware of, or are unwilling to accept the acceptance of Hawaii into the Union in 1959. As a result, the citizenship of any Hawaiian born person is highly suspect. Obviously, this poses serious problems for everyone on Magnum, PI.

5. The Guitar Solo of Unrelated Topics; The TV is on in the background and they’re showing the episode of Star Trek: Voyager where the holographic Doctor makes a holographic family. This is either the worst thing I’ve ever seen, or there was a writer’s strike on at the time and the script was improvised by the guys with the gaffer tape.

6. The Crescendo of Creeping Paranoia; While most people understand the meaning of “taxation without representation” and “armed insurrection”, our pals at the Tea Party protests are not so lucky. Because of all the whacky, good-natured fun the Governor of Texas is busting open the secession meme and a few people want to hang some members of Congress just for hoots and giggles.

What fun! A veritable panoply of laughs! Of course, unlike the Revolution or the Civil War, most Americans have at least heard of Twitter; and that’ll have to help.

The kids love Twitter. The feed from Andersonville will totally bury Ashton Kutcher.

This particular song of stupidity protesting a big federal government took place almost entirely in public parks.

Good work, Einstein.

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I was twitchy like goldfish to make up some stuff about the farewell address by President Bush. However I was resolute in my inclination to take on a topic that would not require me to watch the President maul the English language one last time. According to media sources, the speech is scheduled to last thirteen minutes.

For a President, this is brief.

In thirteen minutes, President Clinton could only begin to explain why having some pogo time with a thick-bodied intern was actually just the exercise of making a recess appointment.

President Lincoln won the battle of First Antietam in just under twelve minutes, but he had a lightsaber which he did not take to Ford’s Theater. If he had, George Lucas would never have made those prequels.

In twelve minutes, John Quincy Adams could twice ‘powder his wig’…if you know what I mean.

Of far greater importance is the current state of the economy.

It’s bad, Jim.

What began as a poker game between the CEOs of Bear-Stearns and AIG has turned into a problem for everyone. Unlike your poverty, corporate poverty is freely ejaculated across the economic strata until it becomes…well, it becomes your poverty again.

Now soggy with corporate ejaculate, you may be wondering what you ought to do.

This economic ass bomb has sent a runny, steamy sluice of the world’s money down the crapper. Credit is scarcer than people willing to see Nicole Kidman movies and the cost of basic commodities is fluctuating like the emotions of a 16-year old emo girl. The stock markets of the world, the global trough of general funds now makes less sense than the last season of Lost.

So what are you to do? Other than drinking, may I suggest:

1. Don’t Despair – This is good advice for two reasons. Firstly, no one will hear you as they jump out of buildings or burn their retirement plan statements to keep warm. Secondly, if you really were in Dire Straits, you’d be rich and laughing off of your ass. Let’s face it, if you had a piece of over 120 million album sales you would be using a fifty dollar bill to light a cigar made of thousand dollar bills; you’d eat dinosaur egg omelets for breakfast and a plate of pure sunshine for lunch. Your money would be for nothing.

2. Get a Camera – If the old saying is true and a picture is worth a thousand words, then taking pictures of your money should more or less be a sure bet. For example, if you were to take a trio of five dollar bills and photograph them, you would have enough money to go to a car dealership and get arrested for being a loon.

3. Printers are Gold – At times like this, people are always complaining that the government should not “print more money”. The fear is that for each dollar printed, existing dollars will lose value. This is all well and good for economics professors and other academic, lab coat-wearing geeks who use particle colliders, but let’s face some reality. If the people in power could keep track of money – and I mean no more than having a general idea what mattress it’s under – this problem would never have happened in the first place. Seven hundred and fifty trillion dollars were placed in the emergency TARP fund back in September, just go ahead and try to find it.

Not only do I suggest that you print your own money, but I suggest that you don’t even try to make it look like real money. If anyone asks, just tell the blathering, busybody questioner that these are emergency dollars and as such, there was no time to have them properly printed.

3a. You’re too poor to buy a printer – steal one.

4. Donkeys! – Properly trained, your donkey can find Treasury Secretary Paulson and give him a withering kick in the pills.

5. Destroy Your Television – The twenty four hour news extruder will provide you with maniacal pundits who cannot get through a sentence on the economy without spitting. The “stories” that they report will be about families with thirteen children who sold little Billy to Wal-Mart in order to get another six dollars. By the time they are done with you, the situation will seem so hopeless and despondent that you will take your ATM card and bury it in the back yard. Not only is this a bad idea because you need an ATM card to jimmy locks, but since your house is being foreclosed, the dude from the bank will find it when he plants his face in the dirt to eat worms and muck.

Now that you know these rules, send me fifty bucks, but don’t think it over too hard.

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For weeks this space has remained largely unchanged; haunting and beautiful like a petrified forest. This is not mysterious since this author is a huge, slothful creature unwilling to drag itself from the labyrinthine caves of its birth and into the harsh light of having to write second third rate sarcasm.

Upon lifting its leviathan bulk from the Sinister underworld, what does it find?

An assload of Google searches for TV chefs with big boobs – that’s what.

There are some readers of The Reasonable Ego who are interested in basting their own tenderloin to images of a select number of mammary-intensive television chefs. In the past, searches have been entered for Christine Cushing, Giada De Laurentiis, Laura Calder and a few others.

There have been no inquiries for naked pictures of Alton Brown even though he has the best food show ever.

It would be an obvious ploy to post pictures of the these women seductively pulling a pork shoulder or deep frying funnel cakes while their come-hither stare longingly taunts the camera and their low cut attire strains to contain its warm, fleshy cargo.

It is so obvious in fact that it might just happen in order to boost the traffic for this site.

None of these others culinary succubi, statuesque though they may be, float in the same rarefied air as British TV epicurean Nigella “Thunder of Love” Lawson. For every naughty Google of Giada leaning waaaaay over to open the oven, a dozen voices cry out to this page to see Nigella make pudding in the nude. In one day there were sixty-two searches for the front-facing mammalian chest globes of Nigella, daughter of the Baron Lawson of Blaby.

It should be noted that on the same day, the only other search was for the new Star Trek movie; this really sums up the entire internet if you think about it.

Often referred to as the Queen of Gastroporn and only rarely as the Queen of Gastropods, Nigella is a Rubenesque, voluptuous sex symbol and there is no doubt that scores of fans are praying for a personal encounter in which Nigella would…um….fry their bacon.

…crispy, savory, delicious bacon…

Sorry, this author is on a diet.

A dangerous trend looms that might impair the ability of those twisted, instawebs-searching drool engines to find lascivious pictures of Nigella Lawson and her ridiculous bosom in print, on the internets and in formats of all types.

As with most global problems this one, of course, originates in Sweden.

Under the tyrannical heel of King Carl XVI Gustav and his parliamentary lapdog, Prime Minister Fredrik Reinfeldt, the people of this cloistered and backward nation have long toiled at the reindeer farms, the herring pools and even the dreaded knäckebröd mines for the pleasure of their pale, sneering overlords.

As if that weren’t bad enough, and it is not, they are now being oppressed even further by having the government monitor the sexual parity of advertisements. In a program managed by Sweden’s Trade Ethical Council against Sexism in Advertising, persons may report adverts that they find to be sexist.

While the article in question is not clear on this, it is not specifically spelled out that the adverts need to be offensive or obscene, but merely sexist. Sexism is certainly in the eye of the beholder. The deluge of ads featuring stupid, fat husbands and hot, smart wives leap to mind, but those do not seem worthy of a government hotline.

The example attached to the article is this:

How could any thinking person find this to be sexist? All that is featured in this photo is a pair of hyper-sexualized breasts devoid of any meaningful, human context being used solely to entice drooling male consumers to purchase more fizzy beverages, car lock de-icer or whatever the hell the boobies want you to buy.

If you are old enough, you will remember the days before boobies were employed primarily to tell you what to think. In that dark era, all ads were either for Ovaltine or Palmolive Soap Flakes. The only medium for the pitch were chain-smoking white mean in horrible suits and hair that weighed as much as Hulk Hogan because of a lifelong abuse of Pomade.

Nobody should have Edward R. Murrow sell them deodorant.

But if the Swedes have their way, the boobies will no longer be allowed to talk to you in the media. Today they are targeting advertisements but how long before Nigella becomes a target?

If it is unacceptable for boobies to tell you what to buy, how is it permitted for boobies to tell you what to eat? The freedom to watch undulating curves and mounds of Nigella preparing Spatchcocked Birds is in peril – and what creeping repressions lay beyond?

The terrorists have won.

If you think that this didn’t suck, please go to Humor-Blogs.com and rate this post.

Canada is a mysterious place with bags of milk, an inexplicable fondness for the fluids that drip from trees and an amusing game of three-down football that clearly belongs on the short bus of professional sports. However, what is at issue today is the unprecedented political situation in which the nation now finds itself; a non-boring political event has occurred in Canada. That last phrase bears repeating, with a bigger font and in purple.

A non-boring political event has occurred in Canada.

If it seems that this is unusual for a nation that issues commemorative stamps in honor of the civil service, consider this: Canadians are hard drinkers.

On 14 October 2008, Canada went to the polls after Conservative Prime Minister Stephen Harper declared that Parliament has ceased to function and that an election was necessary. The nation, knowing full well that Parliament had only experienced “function” three times since Confederation nodded in mute dismay. In this election, the Conservatives (in true Canadian style) nearly destroyed the Liberal Party of Canada but still did not manage to get a majority of the seats in Parliament.

Everyone, we were told, was expecting a more cooperative Parliament *snort* that would be more *chuckle* open to compromise.

Please take a moment to giggle in disbelief.

On 27 November 2008, the Conservative government – strengthened but not actually effective – submitted an economic “statement” that was meant to act as prologue to their budget and to assuage the worries of Canadians forced to eat old tin cans and their classic collection of Glass Tiger records.

In a flurry of activity for the politically challenged the following then occurred:

1. The Opposition Parties (the Liberal Party, the New Democratic Party and the Bloc Quebecois) threatened to form a Mighty Coalition to bring the government down if they did not change their ways. This would, presumably, be similar to how those robot tigers turn into Voltron.

Jack Layton would be near the groin.

2. The Government told the Opposition to please have carnal relations with a mollusk.

3. In a bold move of defiance, the Liberal Party decided to ouster their already ouster-is-nigh leader more quickly. They did this, in adherence with the finest traditions of democracy, by having all the other leadership candidates quit the race and proclaiming one guy the new leader by acclamation without a political convention. Given the success that the Liberals have had with large votes recently, this was probably a good choice.

4. The Government, with a head full of steam and the bloated indignation of the Right, asked very politely if the Governor General could write the Prime Minister a note, telling him that he did not need to even let Parliament assemble until the 26th of January.

The noise that you are hearing now is your irony alarm ringing of off the hook. The Prime Minister who called an early election because the Parliament was not functioning has now shut it down because it was functioning too much, but in a way that made him feel sad.

The other option is that Prime Minister Harper was just hoping to get some quality face time with the Governor General. The current occupant of that office is Michaëlle Jean. Among her credentials, Governor General Jean is as cute as button and maybe Harper was hoping that the spiraling emotions of the current crisis would propel their relationship to the next level;

Michaëlle Jean: Mister Prime Minister, I understand that you’d like me to prorogue Parliament?

Stephen Harper: And my pants, please prorogue my pants.

Michaëlle Jean: What?

Stephen Harper: Can I call you Mickey Jee?

Michaëlle Jean: Get out.

Canada now has a distinct privation of government, but has nonetheless managed to appoint 18 new Senators while everything is on hold. When the new budget (which is real meat compared to the economic statement) is released, government may well gridlock again when Liberal leader Michael Ignatieff (his nickname is Iggy) threatens to swing the club of an Opposition party coalition if his needs (#3; waffles!) are not met.

Why is all this being done? To avoid an election; both sides claim the other is being undemocratic, but neither will consider taking the matter to the polls. This sounds like the guy who cut you selling you the band-aids.

Their fear of the electorate is well placed.

* * *

Election Season is NOT Over.

While the trivial election of the American President has come and gone with little or no coverage in the press a far more important matter is now before the citizens of the world.

The blogging overlord of this space and many other spaces, the Mighty, Terrifying and Mostly Agreeable Diesel has gotten his blog Mattress Police in the finals in the humor category in the 2008 Weblog Awards.

That’s right, Jim. The frikkin’ finals….

I don’t know any of the other finalists personally, but I’m guessing that they are probably very bad people who would steal from you if they got the chance. Diesel on the other hand can cure your bronchial congestion with just the touch of his calming, magical half-beard.

Who else could do that? Only one man and he died for us a long, long time ago. But that doesn’t matter because Wilt Chamberlain never even wrote a blog.

But Diesel wrote a blog, and still does — and it is good.

You can vote for Diesel here, and obviously you should vote for Diesel here. He writes a tremendous amount of really high grade material. There are three blogs that make me laugh – Mattress Police is one of them and the other two aren’t.

Change You Can Laugh At. Diesel ’08.

If you think that this didn’t suck, please go to Humor-Blogs.com and rate this post.

1143PM EST

It’s official. Senator Barack Obama has become the 44th President of the United States and the first African American to ever hold the office. Also, Joe Biden will break another historic barrier by being the first person named Joe Biden to be elected as Vice President. Chester A. Arthur was going to change his name to Flo Walden, which would have been pretty close to ‘Joe Biden’, but he was interrupted be needing to become President.

Oh, what could have been. And for the record, I really miss Tim Russert right now.

When delivering his concession to Obama, Senator John McCain noted that above and beyond everything else they were both Americans. He continued:

“…and no association means any more to me than that.”

Not a bad repudiation of his own campaign while swallowing a steaming wad of fail. I won’t call it classy, but it’s better than where he’d been.

There’s not much funny left at this point, except the look on McCain’s face when he pretended that Sarah Palin had been an asset.

So, barring a strong burst of energy that sloth and my comfy couch will make impossible I will end – as only I can – by only seeing the patient after they have died.

As such, I will now announce that The Reasonable Ego would like to endorse John Edwards for President in 2008.

John Edwards – Building America by Making Babies All Over the Damn Place

1036PM EST

John McCain is starting to smell like cooked dirt. I should say that he smells more like cooked dirt. Apparently, in an attempt to be more genuine and homespun he’s been wearing a musky scent called Seared Regolith.

I’m sure it’s fetching.

As it stands, with Pennsylvania, Ohio, and New Mexico going for Obama he’s pretty much all in. He will win Oregon, Washington and California as sure as any state in the nation and those alone will put him over the top.

If you add Florida, Colorado as well as potentially Virginia and Indiana plus a small mess of western states, this thing is definitively over. The thing is done, the play is spent and the curtain has been closed.

But it’s not over, stupid!!

Now, we get to talk about very important post election things that no one will care about by breakfast tomorrow. This happens every cycle. During the primaries, everyone talks about the importance of the margin of victory.

By the same token, no one will give a fiddler’s twitch about how many electoral votes Obama racks up for more than three seconds after he takes the oath. A neutrino in the CERN collider has a longer life expectancy than the political capital from electoral votes after January 20.

Now, with John McCain getting his coal chute augured, not one gives a wrinkled bat’s ass how close Hillary Clinton was because she is gone – not here.

She’s very, very happy though. My keen political skills are well aware that she must be pleased to know that there will be an incumbent, Democratic President when her last possible chance to run for the Oval Office comes around in 2012.

Seriously, my girl Hill is probably halfway through a bottle of Schnapps and laughing her ass off.

I guess the next thing to watch for is the concession – I’ll see if the whisky permits it.

929PM EST

Okay, this is where news people start to cheese me off.

Maybe its an attempt to stretch the night and keep people from deciding to go to bed or maybe its an attempt to create drama. Regardless of the origin, the various channels (I picked up my remote) are all saying that this will be closer than they themselves were saying it was two hours ago.

They are doing this based on the same facts. To the best of my knowledge, no new states have been added to the Union and the population of the United States has not exploded by three million in the northern tip of Indiana. Canada has not been assimilated, Mexico has not invaded and cloning has not run the math off of the rail. Howard Dean has not made your head explode, has he?

So what’s the issue?

They’re not counting fast enough.

Seriously. Because they don’t have the numbers that are already scrawled on their cheat sheets from the exit polls coming in as quickly as they should, they are perceiving a shift that does not exist. McCain is still loosing Florida and North Carolina. Obama is still losing Indiana and Virginia is still too close to call.

These votes are not in metric. The corrupt officials are not slowed by having to convert their bribes from sacks of Euros into sacks of dollars – there is no mystery.

I guess sitting at an anchor desk warps your perception.

Oh wait – it’s all better because Ohio just went into Obamaland! It is going exactly as planned!

Sweet balls of Elvis.

The pols are watching Florida, Virginia, North Carolina and Ohio. McCain needs all of these and he just lost one. Obama leads in Florida and North Carolina the others are very close. If they split, this will precisely match the expected outcome and John McCain has just lost.

Joe Scarborough is rapidly becoming my favorite (my left testicle just rose into my body) because he just pointed out that “the thread [to victory] has just broken”.

Do I need to do all the heavy lifting here?

829PM EST

Looks like I might not be at this as long as I thought. That’s not bad, though – there’s a marathon of Power Rangers that I’ve been meaning to catch.

Joe Scarborough, and his big mallowy head has just enunciated a huge list of states that McCain must win in order to get to 270 electoral votes. Let’s be clear, he can’t drop even one of them.

And it was a long damn list.

In far more ridiculous news, CNN is now claiming to have holographic correspondents.

Yes, Jim, you read that right – holograms.

Holograms.

Holograms on CNN.

Holograms.

I would like to officially apologize to MSNBC for calling their use of CG redundant and silly. I can buy a facade of columns. I can accept a field of three-dimensional states floating magically behind the head of Lester Holt.

I can live with that.

But holograms – well, that’s just stupid.

More numbers as they come. But be warned, as much fun as this has been for the three people who have read it – when this is called, I’m going drinking.

Although I really hope that Sarah Palin has to make a concession speech.

Hold on – Arkansas is closed and there’s no way I’m cutting out on Arkansas.

Oh wait, yes there is – Elizabeth Dole lost her Senate seat. Har Har!

806PM EST

McCain wins another state – South Carolina remains red with about as much a surprise as a fat guy hitting the buffet for seconds.

Other than that – nothing. As such, I will make up my own results.

Indiana - McCain wins this state by six thousand percent.

Hawaii - Obama is declared King after calming the volcanoes with a heartfelt rendition of ‘Werewolves of London’.

Pennsylvania - A shocker! The write in candidacy of Krusty the Klown leaves me speechless.

A historic night indeed.

In real events, the Huffington Post apparently stole my idea that the anchors had cheat sheets from exit polls indicating a huge Obama win. They owe me a dollar, I guess.

Of course, they then also explain that exit polls are no more useful than ‘virgin’ cocktails at the Kennedy compound.

So take it for what it’s worth.

In a few minutes a giant wad of states – 15 in total – will be hacked up from the throat of the Republic. Grab a tissue and get ready.

Hold the phone, Obabma has just won the Soviet Republic of Massachusetts, Maine, New Jersey, and some other lefty states that we all knew were going to The Obama.

In real news (sorry) he just won Pennsylvania and New Hampshire. McCain really needed those if he wants to beat “that one”.

Early news bites your worm…

733PM EST

When you have 0% of the vote returned, you must not ever, ever, ever say that the frikkin’ race is too close to call.

That’s like saying the girl who stood you up was too ugly to kiss.

Vermont has gone for Obama and Kentucky has been called for McCain. Kentucky then ran up the porch and slammed the door.

Vermont is a big relief. I always get worried when the woolly upscale parts of New England start flirting with Alaskan governors who believe that the Earth is only 5000 years old. It’s well known that the Connecticut state legislature has a picture of Jesus healing an Allosaurus.

Indiana, Virginia, South Carolina, Georgia and the part of Florida that I love carnally have closed but have no useful information.

My first prediction of the night; the pundits have the exit polls and it shows an Obama blow out. They are all talking about a national restructuring on the trickle of number from 2 states. I smell some inside baseball.

Pardon me, that’s just my slippers.

Yeah, Pat Buchanan is talking about ‘the cusp of a liberal era’ and David Gregory (who looks like Barney Rubble writ long) had to tell him to shut up. The Templars must have gotten to them.

I miss Tim Russert.

In case you want it:

- Webcast of MSNBC

- Web coverage from The Washington Post

- An Octopus Eating a Shark

- Mark Knopfler playing a really bitchin’ guitar

While you soak all that in, a veritable Big Gulp of electoral jurisdictions are expected to pounce in about 27 minutes. West Virginia just popped as did Ohio and parts of North Carolina.

Nothing. Everything else save for the insultingly predictable Kentucky and Vermont are too close or too early to call.

I hoping to make the whole night without actually conveying any information. Doing well so far.

659PM EST

We now have an assload of big states reporting, but there’s no real numbers yet. However, we do know that apparently Kentucky has no interest in being a part of history and has decided to vote for the old white guy.

Or maybe it was Sarah Palin, she’s so genuine and totally not practiced in her carefully crafted folksiness.

Kentucky is pulling about 70-30 for McCain. Kentucky bourbon is the finest of the brown liquors that come from Kentucky. By any other standard, it blows.

The part of Indiana that has reported is breaking about even with a teeny, tiny dignity-of-an-Hasselhoff edge to Obama. But, if I was paying attention, I might know that the last part of Indiana to report has a couple of areas that will pile up Obama votes. So, the Hoosier State is still up in the air, which must be a terrifying state of affairs for the people in Illinois and other bordering states. When the urban areas report, hopefully the state will settle gently back into its giant dirt print.

It may also give us some meaningful numbers.

I appreciate that TV producers once lived in a world where sets had to be built and numbers had to be written on white boards, but do they need to keep putting people in CGI set ups with wacky (but seriously majestic) Greco-Roman columns that vomit electoral data?

In a down-ballot story, Elizabeth Dole is headed to a rumored defeat. While it is far from certain, if she does lose, it will be the first time in about 50 years that a Dole or a Bush was is not holding elected office.

…and the Plantangenets will one day rule all of England.

The big numbers start next.

634p Eastern Time

Keith Olbermann keeps saying stupid things like “according to the actuary tables of history…”.

In Canada, a CBC goon will slap you like a red-headed stepchild for saying something so pointless and bilious. You may spew rhetorical nonsense, but you must at least understand your own pomp.

We still don’t know anything for sure, but there is a hypothetical discussion about what a history making night this will be seen as after Obama wins.

That seems odd – but, as we know, the mainstream media has rigged this thing six ways from Sunday. Between them, the Templars and the Commissioner of the NFL, this baby was wrapped up in March.

It turns out that even thought two states have closed and I’m already uttering Jack Daniels burps, these two states won’t report until the east coast polls close at 7pm.

At 7pm, Virginia, Florida, South Carolina and Georgia all report as well as the parts of Indiana and Kentucky stacked to the ceiling with drooling pinheads who apparently couldn’t vote by 6.

The Panhandle in Florida doesn’t report for an hour, but the big part that I suddenly like will bust open like a rotten mango on time and under budget.

I hate the right to vote.

607pm Eastern Time

Indiana and Kentucky have closed and we don’t know a damn thing. Democracy sucks and I’m moving back to Russia.

I’m watching this on MSNBC (Rachel Maddow is my half-sister) and looking at the web returns on CNN since it more or less guarantees that I won’t have to hear Anderson Cooper. Chris Matthews spits when he talks…this is awful.

I know exactly two things:

1. Everybody who doesn’t have a shaft of rebar through their skull knows that Obama is going to win in fat, large fashion. He’s going to win like porn stars have sex. He is going to win so big that the verb “win” will be changed to “damn! Barack!”

2. Don’t bet on it, Jim.

Everyone seems to think that the apparently high voter turnout is good for McCain, unless it happens to be good for Obama. The youth vote will break heavily for the Democrats unless they don’t bother to show up at all. Seniors in Florida will vote overwhelmingly for McCain, unless their are Jewish, in which case they will vote along traditional party lines and turn our for Obama.

Seriously? Two years of constant nattering, analysis and editorials and we can’t smell the cooking yet? When the machines take over, Skynet will have this stuff charted out months ahead of time.

Be back in 30 or less…

Two polls close at 6pm Eastern Time. That means it’ll be time for my first update and two stiff shots of Jack Daniels.

Come back at six, and we can see democracy for the demoralizing morass that it really is.

Fun!!

534p EST

It goes without saying that it would have been very poor form for the Americans to bother us will two years of campaigning without actually holding an election. As such, in the spirit of representative government, the United States is presently voting for their next President.

This will also help clear out the dead wood so that everyone can take a few week off before firing up the Electoral Particle Collider again for the mid-term elections in 2010. I swear to Jeebus that Mitt Romney has already bought an RV and is living in New Hampshire.

For one, I cannot complain since I am the most desperate possible junkie for this kind of thing. I bought snacks for tonight – special event snacks. I took the day off from work tomorrow so that I can stay parked on the couch until the guy who used to do the weather on the Golf Channel gets his say at 4am.

I went out and bought special election pants (make your own joke about words that sound like ‘election’). I won’t go into many details, but let’s just say I won’t need to take a lot of breaks.

As I type this, in my office, I am watching streaming video of MSNBC where three people I’ve never heard of have are saying things that I already know.

…reminds me of the last time that I went to church…

But since they are nice enough to hold elections I should be nice enough to commemorate the event.

As such, my special pants and I will be posting periodically throughout the evening as the results come in. But I am not live blogging because that whole term makes me want to puke.

If I were even a little more intelligent or a little less lazy, I might have given this whole deal some more notice, but I’m sure that 3 hours is enough to align the entire instawebs to my needs.

Don’t grin, Jimmy – you ain’t exactly Warren Buffett either.

To excite my 2.3 readers, here is a preview.

“FOX News is reporting that Massachusetts has gone overwhelmingly for Obama. Remember Chappaquiddick!!!”

…you get the idea…

I would hope that you would have something better to do (but you don’t) so fire up your RSS antenna and get ready for an inexorable sense of disappointment.

Remember Chappaquiddick!!!

Halloween is an annual festival practiced in all the areas that are directly adjacent to this author’s house. Since this trend has remained unbroken for four years, it is now essentially a universal truth and therefore exists in all time and in all places. The topic is one deserving of considerably more attention. This is not a statement from any particular expertise, but on the assumption that any person reading this on the instawebs is probably an idiot.

Like many festivals and mythical events in the relatively modern, Christian tradition, Halloween descends to us from a different place; an older pagan festival. This is also true for Christmas, Easter, large portions of the Pentateuch and the Feast of the Assumption of Mary. Originally, this was the “Assumption of a Feast upon Mary” where the extant research suggests that the Holy Mother was eaten by a Balrog while crossing the Mines of Moria.

It’s important to know your theology, kids!

Halloween currently centers on these primary activities:

1. Finding children’s costumes that will not burn like a Mongolian Grill.
2. Candy
3. Vomit
4. Cleaning vomit
5. Hiding the candy
6. Complaining about Halloween

Items one through five are extremely common and need no explanation to anyone with children. Those who don’t have children should just ask someone who does and they will instantly narrate sixteen hours of stories about when their precious snowflake spewed high fructose corn syrup, USFDA Red Food Dye No. 40 and stomach bile across the living room and into the aquarium.

Maybe asking them is bad idea, in retrospect.

In a trend that is no doubt tied to global warming and the rising instances of melamine in Chinese milk, a growing chorus of very concerned Christians issue annual warnings to avoid Halloween because it is – to be blunt – an orgy of occultism and devil worship that just happens to be adorned with the occasional Zagnut bar.

This comes as a surprise to many who see Halloween rather differently; an orgy of stupid looking children lurching blindly about in ill-fitting masks and expensive costumes that are hidden under heavy autumnal outerwear. This can be honestly said (and often is) by persons who happen to the parents of human children. While there is no hard research to verify this, most parents cannot distinguish between a five-year-old in a Sleeping Beauty costume and the ghostly figure of diminutive, French-Canadian actress Geneviève Bujold.

Regardless, there are some very serious issues to be addressed by the concerned Christian community. Among these are:

1.Halloween is a real, sacred day for those who follow Wicca. /…/ There is no question in my mind that to those who believe and follow the practices of witchcraft, Halloween represents an opportunity to embrace the evil, devilish, dark side of the spiritual world.

This must come as a real shock to anyone who foolishly believed that Wiccans were all students of European history with a minor in Women’s Studies who feel compelled to add personal depth by seeming spiritual without adhering to a stifling, mainline religion. It was the considered opinion of this author that the greatest threat posed by Wicca was the chance that one of them might want to explain it.

2.Halloween is a holy day for pagans…and Satanists hold the day in the highest regard, performing special, often macabre ceremonies at the midnight hour.

As a personal aside, this is terribly nostalgic for me. I can recall as a youth that at the stroke of midnight on each Halloween my parents would wake me so I could explosively decompress the four hundred ‘treat-sized’ bags of Cheezy-Poofs that were threatening to breach the walls of my abdomen. What fun!

3.God’s people are to be a peculiar people

Mission accomplished!

As is evident in the following quotation, there is an alarming lack of consensus in the Christian ranks.

4. For Christians, the biggest fear of celebrating Halloween is the fear of practicing or participating in some type of cultic practice or demon worship. (I won’t get into, but these same people should not own Christmas trees if that is the case.). To me, Halloween is nothing more than good fun.

This degree of good sense is appalling. How can Christians become a ridiculous stereotype if they refuse to act as such? Sadly, for the status of contemporary Christianity, this frenzy of wild, greased-up, eschatologicaly driven madness common sense is apparently on the rise.

5. Thus, the festivities on All Hallow’s Eve were the Christian’s way of laughing at death and evil… not as a glorification of evil, but as a chance to affirm eternal life

A more careful look at the heading of the article clearly indicates that the level-headed author is an Episcopalian. In Christian circles, Episcopalians and Unitarians apparently don’t count.

6.It suggests our kids are missing out on something. And indeed they are, if we allow them to spend Halloween in celebration. If we are to train our children to be soldiers in the army of Christ, why would we sign a pass for them to go on leave when the battle is escalating on the front lines?

That’s much better. Not only does the quote have the mandatory condemnation of Halloween, but it also phrases the issue is stark terms of military tension, soldiers and battle. Such constructive language must, by inference, be the best way to raise healthy children unaffected by the mind-bending maelstrom of Halloween.

One can certainly see their point. In this day and age – knowing what we do – it would be dangerous to allow ourselves to be deluded by the strange mythology of a bygone era. There are likely very few people who still believe that insanity is caused by demonic possession, when a much more scientific explanation (messages beamed into your brain by the government) makes a great deal more sense.

Christian literalists, those who seem most likely to find Halloween offensive are right to warn us against superstition and engaging in hollow rituals that lead us down the road to ruin.

After all, they wouldn’t want to look stupid.

If you think that this didn’t suck, please go to Humor-Blogs.com and rate this post.

The nominating conventions for American politics are profoundly confusing events that are designed to convince you that the other party wishes nothing more than to take your money, destroy the future and void their bladders onto your kitchen table. While this may or may not be true, The Reasonable Ego would like to present excerpts from the nominating speech of Barack Obama, with clarifying footnotes provided by the Obama campaign. Just click on the footnote to reach the creamy, satisfying notation and then click on the notation number to come back. The Luddites among you may just scroll.

Remember, the informed voter is likely to stay home out of sheer disgust, and that’s probably better for all of us.

Barack Obama (D-Illinois) Accepting the Democratic Nomination for President of the United States:

With profound gratitude and great humility, I accept your nomination1 for the presidency of the United States.2

Let me express my thanks to the historic slate of candidates3 who accompanied me on this journey, and especially the one who traveled the farthest 4 - a champion for working Americans and an inspiration to my daughters5 and to yours 6 – Hillary Rodham Clinton.7

We meet at one of those defining moments8 – a moment when our nation is at war, our economy is in turmoil, and the American promise has been threatened once more.9

America, we are better than these last eight years.10 We are a better country than this.

Tonight, I say to the American people, to Democrats and Republicans and Independents11 across this great land – enough!12 This moment – this election – is our chance to keep, in the 21st century, the American promise alive.13

The same party that brought you two terms of George Bush and Dick14 Cheney will ask this country for a third. And we are here because we love this country too much 15 to let the next four years look like the last eight.

The Republican nominee, John McCain, has worn the uniform of our country with bravery and distinction16 , and for that we owe him our gratitude and respect. But the record’s clear: John McCain has voted with George Bush ninety percent of the time. 17

At this moment, in this election, we must pledge once more to march into the future, and in the words of Scripture hold firmly, without wavering, to the hope that we confess.18

Thank you, God Bless you, and God Bless19 the United States of America.

On to mediocrity!

[2] By ‘profound’ I mean more of a sense of profound entitlement since I actually wrapped this thing up back in June.  By ‘humility’ I mean the kind of humility that makes it entirely acceptable for me to give a speech in front of two hundred thousand Germans. Germans can vote, right?

[3] Losers – and I’m not thanking Kucinich. Seriously, what in the hell are you thinking?

[4] And as a result, the one who pissed me off the most. After she quoted Saturday Night Live in that one debate, I went home and yelled at the dog for about three hours. The dog didn’t deserve that, but that’s what the Clintons do…I cry a lot more now than before I met her.

[5] Inspiration is used here as something of a euphemism for adoption – apparently Hillary thinks she will do better in her next presidential bid if she has two African-American daughters. This was part of the deal we made to get the endorsement of Camp Clinton. They’re wonderful girls, and I’m going to miss them.

[6] This will be federally mandated when I’m elected. No one said life in the Obama Nation would be fair, did they?

[7] But I hope that all of your PUMA voters choke on a cheap strawberry daiquiri. Go ahead and vote for McCain – see if I care. When the Republicans overturn Roe v Wade and refuse to pass equal rights legislation to close the wage gap and take a warm, fierce crap on every policy you hold dear what are you going to do then?  That’s right; you’re going to elect Hillary in 2012. Stupid Clintons…

[8] This particular defining moment should in no way be diminished because they seem to occur every four years and in tune with the election cycle.

[9] The Promise of America is threatened insofar as there is a chance that I might not get elected.

[10] Okay, I know what you’re thinking and I’m right there with you. I’m a pretty smart guy, I’m Harvard educated and I know that I’ve just completely contradicted the first premise of basic ontology by saying that we are better than what we are.  We might, in potential be better in the future than we are now but we cannot be worse than we are now and better than that at the same time. That just doesn’t make any sense. President Bush can’t be smarter than he isn’t and Nescafé can’t be less bold, rich and delicious than it is. This is called the law of the excluded middle where a thing cannot be and not be at the same time in the same kind – it also holds that thinking stuff like this will exclude the middle block of swing voters and make me unelectable. Barack, you must never say this out loud. NEVER.

[11] But I do not say this to Libertarians - you guys are creepy and not welcome in my America. Move to South America and try not governing there, dumbasses.

[12] Enough, I say! Enough! Enough of falsely soaring rhetoric! Enough of 45 minute speeches that have 12 minutes of content! Enough of…wait a minute…never mind.

[13] What I’m really getting at here is that I’m holding you all hostages to my super powers of hope. Don’t vote for me and there will be no 21^st century. I’ve done it before (of course, you can’t remember that) and I’m not afraid to do it again. Remember that ‘Architect’ dude from the Matrix? Yeah, I’m pretty much the same except not so boring and I’d never have agreed to be in those sequels. Have a 20 minute dance party in the middle of a movie? Great idea, genius.

[14] Dick. Har har!!

[15] But apparently not enough love to elect John Kerry in 2004 – but looking back, I sort of get that.

[16] Could someone please explain to me why I need to keep saying this? Dude crashes like 12 airplanes and gets taken prisoner by the Vietnamese, and he’s a bigger hero than Wolverine. Don’t get me wrong – that prisoner of war thing had to be tough, but it probably did save the Navy several million dollars in additional crashed planes.

[17] And he didn’t just agree with Bush either, they actually used the same voting booth at the same time!

[18] PS – I am NOT a Muslim.

[19] Dude, seriously – I’m not.

I really hope that Barack Obama doesn’t announce his choice for vice-president before I finish writing this. If he does, I’m going to become an American citizen just so I can think I’m going to vote for McCain and then change my mind at the last moment and vote for Obama, because if I vote for him we can become pals, and when we are pals I can betray him by making sweet, sweet love to his tall, lean a sultry partner in life; Senator Joe Biden.

It now seems all but certain that in the next few hours that Biden, the Senator from Delaware (motto: Keep Going, You Can Make Philly By Nightfall!) and foreign affairs big-shot (he once dated Anwar Sadat) will be named as the candidate for Vice President.

Incidentally, I have typed Vice President about three times and it’s not that hard. Say “Vice President” out loud for me…see? It’s not hard to say, either.

So could someone tell me why do we need to constantly be assaulted by news-persons constantly flittering out the abbreviation ‘veep’? Are they hurting themselves by uttering those extra three syllables? Are they wasting time that they could use to tell us that Brangelina have opened a new movie or eaten another damn orphan? Do they pay cable news pundits so little that they need to save their strength at every opportunity so that they can work nights mining hair care products in the caverns under the New York subway system?

No, they damn well don’t. So why, when I am already being assaulted by internet people who cannot spell the words ‘all right’ and liberal arts graduates who can’t speak in complete sentences must I also bee subjected to fashion-model-looking college sophomores posing as newsreaders who have to chirp like big-haired canaries incessantly until all I can hear is a never-ending chorus of: “Veep! Veepstakes! Veep! Veepstakes! Veep! Veepstakes!”?

There’s no answer for that, well there is but it makes no sense. The answer? Gaffer tape.

See?

Anyway, Obama is apparently going to pick Biden which will be met with a huge chorus of ‘who is Joe Biden?’ by the populace of the world. As a service to no one in particular, I will now endeavor to break down the life of Joe Biden before I either get distracted or run out of words.

Early Life

Joe Biden has no childhood as he was born out of the vat that was used to breed northeastern Democrats all through the 1940s. When ejected from his pod, he started doing something, somewhere that he could parlay into a seat in the Senate. While there is no firm evidence either way, rumors persist that he invented the Waffle Cone. This makes him at least as prepared for the vice-presidency as John C Calhoun who had previously been a dust mop.

Politics

Biden entered politics and then proceeded to talk a lot. Now I know that you are thinking that all politicians talk a lot, but Joe Biden is their chatty overlord. In a marathon of fine-tuning a position, Biden once expended over forty three thousand words while ordering a whistle dog.

Foreign Relations Committee

Biden came to national prominence by serving as chair of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. In addition to procuring foreigner for the Senate to have relations with, Biden’s tenure gave him to opportunity to showcase some of the most interesting hair in all of modern politics.

Joe Biden (and this is why he won’t be the vice presidential nominee) is most bald. However, with the assistance of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, William Shatner and a grant from Boeing, Senator Biden has executed one of the most successful ‘comb-backs’ since the Senate allowed for advanced coiffures in 1964.

Presidential Ambitions

Like all Senators, Biden has wanted to be President. Unlike most Senators, Biden has actually tried and been relatively unsuccessful. In 2007, while campaigning in the Iowa Caucuses, Biden was thrice mistaken for the assistant manager of the Hotel Six where he was staying and only got one vote. That vote was later determined to be an old get well card that Biden had received from Senator Joe Lieberman after Lieberman pushed Biden down the stairs in front of the Capitol.

Miscellany

- According to his publicist, Senator Biden not only has “a way with words” but is a “talented and aggressive kisser”.
- An embarrassed Senator Biden had to pay the Wilmington Red Cross $1200 dollars after cleaning out their soup kitchen in what he believed was a competitive eating event and fundraiser for his 1996 re-election campaign.
- Smells like cookies.
- Of all the Senators named ‘Joe’, Biden is the only one also named ‘Biden”.

Obama has yet to announce…that means I have to post this. Sorry.

Science is serious business; Serious. Damn. Business. If you don’t believe me ask the guys who produce NOVA for PBS. When they use serious computer graphics of string and some M&Ms to show you how Niels Bohr got the atom all wrong, you had better damned well be impressed. Like the Roman Church of old, they will wring respect from your defiance. Unlike the Roman Church of old, they will do it with a documentary narrated by the guy who played Mike Hammer.

That’s right, Mike Hammer. Stacey frikkin’ Keach – dude has done time, so watch it, Luddite.

For reasons I can no longer even begin to contemplate, I apparently asked some of you to give me science questions so that my giant, throbbing, majestic brain could spasm forth mucilaginous gushes of knowledge that would befoul your furniture and leave stains of smartness on your shirt.

Baffled at why I just wrote that last sentence, I’ll also explain that the questions are more or less (less, really) being answered in order of popularity based on a poll in a previous post.

1. Reader, you-said-it-i’m-the-jesus asks: My question is twofold. Is Scientology a faith-based religion or a science-based cult?Secondly, how does Tom Cruise continue to get work?

Scientology is neither a religion (no funny hats) nor a cult (they’re not fans of Arrested Development). Scientology was conceived as a weight control group support group for John Travolta. Based on the writings of a bad science fiction author who pretended that he was an Admiral, Scientology is an example of what might happen if Star Trek fans received tax-exempt status. However, as most Star Trek fans would point out, their franchise would never have churned out anything as awful as Battlefield Earth.

Tom Cruise continues to get work based on the Michael Jackson Principle of Increased Befuddlement. From this principle, we know that once a celebrity has reached a certain level of obvious mental defect, the ‘system’ will allow them to keep a few token projects in production in the hopes that they will eventually show up on YouTube in a diaper, eating cat food and mumbling about the FBI. Incidentally, I think that this is the plot of Cruise’s movie Valkyrie.

2. Bee of ‘Bee’s Musings‘ stated: “No yak poop, elephant dung.”

While not strictly a question, this raises an important syllogistic exercise known as Linguistic Reduction of Predicate through which highly conceptual statements are reduced to their actual meaning. It can be a bit confusing, so allow me to demonstrate;

No yak poop, elephant dung -> no elephant dung, hobo droppings -> no hobo droppings, accountant teeth -> no accountant teeth, ledger entries -> no ledger entries, meaningless numbers -> no meaningless numbers, blog word count -> no blog word count, this is all filler.

It’s extremely useful.

3. Liz C of ‘Anyway I was Just Thinking‘ inquired: Does ethanol suck? If so, why? Show your work.

Ethanol or ethyl alcohol is widely viewed as a substitute or supplement for gasoline. As the price of oil increases based on any random fact that seems remotely plausible to the greedy bastards who sell oil, this becomes a more pressing issue. It is widely thought that ethyl alcohol is harvested from corn; it is not.

Ethyl alcohol (the same alcohol used in lovely adult beverages) is actually harvested from ground up college students who drink themselves into delirium and fall asleep while waiting to be served at Denny’s, IHOP and any other place that insists on serving breakfast all day long. The term ‘ethanol’ derives from ‘Ethyl Hamilton’ who, in 1967, was crushed into a paste using a giant mortar and pestle at the Pancake Shack in Alton, Illinois.

So, since I’m not willing to sacrifice the youth of today for a lower price at the pump, I must conclude that ethanol does suck (as did Ethyl Hamilton, I’m told). And I will not show you my ‘work’. I don’t do porn, but thanks for asking.

4. Mental Mist solicited the following block of knowing: ‘What is anti-matter, and why does it matter?’

Anti-matter is the matter used to build an anti-Pope. The first genuine anti-matter Pope was Pedro Martínez de Luna who was elected anti-matter Pope in Avignon in March of 1378. This lead to what physicists call the Great Western Schism of the Catholic Church.

For decades, Catholics of opposing spin and charge would randomly meet across Europe and mutually annihilate, causing extensive damage to the vital industries of being dirty peasants and being subjugated dirty peasants. This crisis was not resolved until the Council of Constance in 1414.

It is known that in the future, anti-popes are used to power starships.

5. Diesel, lord and master of my corner of the interwebz got bonus points because he rightly whined that I truncated his question. Fully stated, it wondered: Would you rather be subjected to a current with high amps and low voltage, low amps and high voltage, or a Paul Reiser film festival?

This is a really great question and I’m going to break my response down into four sections of intense, syrupy, comedic nectar.

First we need to consider that…hold on.

Microsoft Word tells me that I’m almost out of words, so we’ll have to wait for Part 2 for the thrilling answer to Diesel’s inquiry. Sorry, fuel-oil guy.

Since I now have some extra space, I’d like to shout out the re-launch of humorbloggers.com where I am now listed. There’s going to be free, vegetarian riblets, so go there now!

1. Bill Donohue of the Week: Bill Donohue!!

As a part of the ongoing war against sacred crackers, flat breads and croutons, a play entitled You’re Eating God is being performed in the godless metropolis of Rhode Island. According to Bill, whom I always take at his word, this play is “mocking the Eucharist”.

Further, there is apparently “nothing gentle” about it. I am sure that I don’t even know what that means.

The Donohue Zeppelin then floats above the landscape warning us of the dangerous double standard where “elites” bash Catholics, but will not touch the sacred cows of Judaism or Islam (see what I did there?). Bill is clearly correct here – I don’t remember any movies made since 1980 that paint Muslims as international terrorists. Certainly, there is no record of anyone ever having been disrespectful to the Jews.

Stay classy, Bill.

2.Confused Southerners of the Week; Russia invades Georgia.

The whole world was alarmed when Russia sent troops into someplace whose name I can’t even type in an effort to free them from the oppression of Georgia. Governor Sonny Purdue vowed to meet this aggression with a bold plan to clog the Bosporus Straits with millions of peaches. When informed that the Russians were attacking the Republic of Georgia, a stunned Purdue claimed that he was sure that the South had lost the Civil War.

3. Mistranslation of the Week: Iran is Israel’s friend.

This came as surprise to everyone, and was no doubt the result of a bad fax machine that mangled the words “mortal racist enemy” into “lighthearted pals who have no intention of trying to kill you, progeny of pigs and monkeys“. The remarks were made by the Iranian vice-president who was unavailable for comment as he needed to prepare for his beheading.

4.Sad Realization of the Week: Where is Your Dubya Now?

Many Georgians, fearing a full-scale invasion by Russia have expressed profound disappointment that their agreement to aide the United States in the invasion of Iraq has not garnered them more support during the present crisis:

“…why did we help them in Iraq?”

Welcome to club.

5. Nanny State Moment of the Week: Got an Itch, Pass a Law.

Some of the limps of matter who claim to be Congresspersons are considering a ban on all mobile phones on aircraft. While the article cites security concerns, most of the whining seems to center on people being annoyed. One particularly distressing instance detailed a sexually explicit conversation between a woman and an unknown third party. Unknown, I don’t think so. Clearly this could only be the work of John Edwards, the new randy bastard of the Democratic Party. Congratulations, former Senator, Edwards!

It goes without saying that all annoying things should at some point be regulated by government, because there is no body or institution better equipped to piss you off than the various state, federal and local officials who lack the basic skills necessary to properly process a speeding ticket without calling in support from the Navy.

We’ll revisit this topic when the Constitution is amended to imprison people who laugh at their own jokes.

6. Good Things Come in Pairs Event of the Week: Hooters Helps the Humane Society.

Sometimes these things just write themselves…

In an effort to control pet populations, the breast-promoting, hot pants-wearing girls of Hooters have entered into an unholy league with the Humane Society in order to get people to have their pets fixed, or at least keep themselves zipped up.

(please make your own John Edwards joke here…)

You could also reduce the pet population by making them eat at Hooters. But I don’t want to be mean. This again goes to show the transformative power of attractive women dressed like sluts.

As an addendum, the Hooters head office has agreed to start neutering any customer who visits their restaurants more than five times in any financial quarter.

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1. Beau at The Nothing Report reminds us that there’s very little you can’t accomplish with a cartoon monkey and a well placed index finger. Oh, seriously, get your mind out of the gutter.

2. In his bid to become the next President, Don at It’s Funny Thing reminds us of the legacy of proud American lawmakers getting in big trouble for being Naughty While Elected.

3. At Muskrat we find a chilling cautionary tale of using anthropomorphic rodents without the oversight of the Disney Corporation.

4. I’m embarrassed to say that I missed this, but Damon at Try to Keep Up had entire post devoted to bacon last month. What the hell was going on in the world that I didn’t write about that?

5. Rickey at the nearly eponymous Riding with Ricky explains validates my theory that NFL quarterback Bret Favre is a big, flaccid tool. Well, he doesn’t really, but that’s what I’d like him to say. But what he wrote is good too.

6. Chelle at The Offended Blogger does what we all should be doing, and complains about Internet Explorer. If only there were a free and easily accessible alternative somewhere.

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On Thursday, Friday check in for Part I of the Sinister Science Symposium…seriously, I’m NOT calling it that.

For the past week I have been trying madly AND madly trying to get a blog post put together so that my traffic doesn’t shrivel like the vulnerable testicle of the Hairless Arctic Pig. But sometimes, reality simply won’t cooperate. Since I’m hip with the kids and always trying to ‘keep it real”, I’m forced to comply with the edicts of reality. In my house, we obey the rules of metaphysical ontology. Also, when possible, we try no to exclude our middles.

If you took philosophy 101, that last line was hilarious. Really? You did? Then you can go to Hell.

Meet the Press used to be a prime source for easy material since so many people sweated like junkies under klieg lights when faced with the doughy stare of Tim Russert.

“It’ll be a breeze, guy whose name is not really Dan,” I told myself, “Just watch MTP”.

But after Russert’s untimely death, it’s just not the same. Simply put, no one is scared of Tom Brokaw, and it doesn’t help that he dresses like my grandfather going to church. The show is light but serious, and completely devoid of bladder loosening fear. Comedy requires fear and Brokaw doesn’t produce. For instance;

Joe Lieberman is on MTP with John Kerry. I assume that they must have booked Kerry first and needed someone equally uncharismatic. Bing! They did it!

Tom Brokaw asks if it is fair to release an ad that compares Barack Obama to Paris Hilton and Britney Spears:

“Senator Obama,” Lieberman calmly replied, “is constantly flashing his vagina.”

Lieberman never would have gotten away with this with Russert there. Timmy would have had dozens of quotes from Elvis, Colonel Sanders and Abraham Lincoln making references to Barack Obama’s penis.

“June 2006, Senator Lieberman, the genitals of Senators Dodd, Kennedy and Obama are all clearly visible while addressing the AARP. Here, at the bi-partisan budget commissions in May of 2007, you – you, Senator Joe Lieberman – can be seen holding a placard that reads Barack has a Man Thingy.”

Then Tim would have let one of those looming silences hang there while he shuffled his blue cards and ate a dozen chicken wings.

“Senator Lieberman, where is Barack Obama’s vagina?” Russert would have said.

Lieberman, bereft of any ‘Joe-mentum’ in the face of such an assault, would have withered.

Instead, Tom adjusts his glasses and Lieberman continues to hypnotize me with the constant adjustment of his jowls. Thus unpierced by truth daggers, Joe quietly fine-tunes each of the 433 servo motors that control the jowlage and aerodynamic properties of his face.

On a related note, and taken entirely out of context, Lieberman really did say:

“…let me say that John [McCain] remains all male”.

I’m not lying; he said that, and I’m not telling you why.

I dearly hope that he got that as a result of a conversation with Cindy McCain and not through some other….aargh! Damn, I pictured it.

But the point is, when Russert was steering the ship, you could never rule out that he would just snap and pummel you mercilessly while saying “Go, Bills!” in a very cheerful manner. That was the great thing about Tim Russert; he was big and friendly but he could bust your ass wide open if you played him wrong. I’m not dissing Tom Brokaw, the guy was the last of the great news anchors, but what’s he going to do? At worst he’d write a book full of letters from the appliance repairman of the Pacific Northwest and make you read it.

Russert, to me at least, seemed like he might have ripped off his shirt and crippled you with a belly-to-belly suplex on the MTP interview table. I think he actually did that to David Duke.

Good for Tim.

It goes without saying that without Meet the Press as its anchor, the entire Sunday morning news trough starts to seem pretty terrible. The only thing This Week has going for it is the incomparable George Will, and I don’t think that ABC lets him slap Sam Donaldson as much as he would like.

I won’t even go into what it’s like to try and watch Fox News Sunday. Taking Chris Wallace seriously when he does his interviews is a lot like listening to the dialogue in porn. All either production aims for is the money shot at the end.

There seems to be a turning point at hand, like when Lee met Grant at Appomattox, or when McDonald’s finally realized that their pizzas were turd planks and they recycled them into burger boxes.

So, out of respect for the laff-tastic journalistic legacy of Timothy J. Russert, I think that Meet the Press and I are done. But football season is soon upon us, so I might just be full of shit.

There is Latin warning to all consumers; let the buyer beware. Caveat Emptor (literal translation; ‘my cravat has deflated’) has remained with us because it makes sense – they even mentioned it on Star Trek. With a global energy crisis, and the French President marrying a retired super model, there has never been a time to be more careful before buying your new onion.

Every summer, big, glossy publications like ‘Bulb and Alliums’ release their new model issues where we are inundated with sexy photos of breakthrough onions that seem too good to be true. Of course, when they seem thus, they invariable are – despite nude pictures of the French President’s wife. As a service to the readers of The Reasonable Ego, I am happy to present our first Buyer’s Guide.

The First Step: What’s On the Market?

Onions are everywhere. It is estimated that for every person in North America, there are over twenty onions and that their population is expected to increase by as much as 400 million in the next ten years.

Correction: That’s pigeons, not onions.

But if those pigeons came after our onions, that’s serious trouble. So, onion selection is even more important than it was at the end of the first paragraph. Remember the following:

- An informed buyer is a better buyer.
- A better buyer eating popcorn is a better buttery buyer.
- A better buttery buyer from Antwerp would be a better buttery Belgian buyer and those guys have forgotten more about onions than you will ever know.

Here’s their list;

1. The Yellow Onion; This the onion that your father bought you when you got out of high school and were good about cleaning your room. This onion holds a native comfort level but is about as interesting as a John Grisham novel. Reliable and with no surprises, this is the conservative onion of choice (unless John McCain wins the Presidency).

2. The Vidalia; This is the Whore of Onions. Tasty and attractive, the Vidalia will never say no. Her papery layers are open to the suggestive peeling of even the most obnoxious of gastronomes. Since this is a promiscuous onion, it should not be used near married persons, children or desperate sugar-daddies. Anyone cooking with a Vidalia should wear a condom. Upgrades for 2009 include new breeds that are slightly more intelligent than Jessica Simpson.

3. The Shallot; Sometimes called a mix between an onion and a garlic clove; this tiny, pink monster is an abomination and should be avoided at all costs. Had God intended for onions and garlic to breed, he’d have let them grow naturally somehow.

4. The Barack Obonion; A new, German entry, this onion dares to hope. At present, no one knows what it actually tastes like.

5. The Parsnip: After the First Vatican Council in 1970, it was concluded by Pope Pius IX that the layers of an onion were an affront to the Holy Trinity. Further, onions caused weeping, and only God should do that. As a result the carrot was brought forth as a suitable replacement. His Holiness was disgusted by the bright orange hue and compared it to the “engorged sexual regions of a baboon”. A parsnip, the ‘whitey carrot’ was brought in as a last minute replacement and pronounced an onion, ex cathedra.

6. The Spanish Onion; Often passed off as a slightly upscale Yellow Onion, avoid this trickster at all costs. Unknown to most and unique among its kind, the Spanish onion is a carnivore. Beware.

7. The Red Onion; On the political left, this onion is popular. But seriously, communism failed – read a history book and move on, Trotsky.

8. Green Onions, Scallions and Leeks; These are not onions at all, but rather slick attempts to get legalized marijuana into the supermarket. Good with brownies.

9. Pearl Onions; These are also not onions; they are the eyes of blind people, harvested after death. Yumm-o!

The Second Step: Gauging Performance.

The test platform was a Sanatec polyethylene cutting board equipped with drainage grooves and a custom, non slip base. Using two Shun professional knives (25cm, 15cm) and the 18cm Shun Chinese cleaver, we put these bulbs to the test.

When tested side by side, the Vidalia out-performed all of its peers with the Red onion coming in a distant second. Even with resolution set to 1920 x 1200 and anti-aliasing cranked to 16, the Vidalia was still running at a decent frame rate in stews, broths, chili and several roasted applications. However, on ice and snow, the Vidalia tended to become rigid and unsafe well before the hardier, northern bulbs.

Our conclusion:

Onions are far more complex than most people realized. Further, doing a shot of Absolut every time I type the word ‘onion’ makes for poor consumer reporting.

Goodnight, Marlene.

If there’s two things I can’t stand it’s people who know important stuff and democracy. People who know stuff have a sickening need to tell you what they know, and this is why you have conversations with strangers about all the porn hidden in the Bible. Democracy is equally useless because it grossly inhibits my ability to have people sent off to special camps where they can be tortured educated into not telling me about what they think they know.

Yes, Dr. Phil, I’m thinking of you.

So it only stands to reason that I would ask all of you to vote on the questions that my great and mighty brain will ruminate upon before making something up. I cannot, in good conscience, tell you the results of my ruminations, since the vast power of my sinister knowledge would surely destroy you in something akin to the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark. Worse yet, maybe like something from the end a Will Ferrell movie. Ewww…

Well, not surely. Actually, it would just be more along the lines of, “Why would you think that about Betty White, you freak?”

But let’s not dwell on that. To wit, behold my poll!! (hee hee!).

This poll will not actually endow (hee hee!) you with any rights, but it will not allow me to determine the questions to be answered. As such, I can’t turn into one of those Bible code people who tell you stuff that you don’t want to hear.

You want to hear this, that’s why you voted…or rather that’s why you had better vote…

So, vote early and vote often. Only in this manner can we guarantee a thick, viscous torrent of pure knowledge fired from my fingers into your waiting brains. You may want to consider wearing goggles, but as we all know, the goggles, they do nothing.

Especially not against science. Science will seek out every nook and cranny until your are soaked to the bone with special relativity.

Science has overwhelmed our primitive minds, turning us from nomads who worshiped trees into suburbanites who worship guys with beards. But, those suburbanites own BlackBerry smart phones, bicycles and zippers. No longer do we dwell in the darkness of Medievalism – now we huddle as solitary figures bathed in the radiation of computer monitors that will certainly lead to brain tumors the size of Thanksgiving turkeys. But, thanks to science, doctors of the future will know how to rid us of these tumors – so it all evens out.

Thanks to science – now that I think of it – we have Thanksgiving turkeys. Before science, all turkeys were either a country, or deadly velociraptors. In the movie Jurassic Park, velociraptors were brought back into being by the wonders of science. That wonder of science then ate people, but then again, the survivors got away on a helicopter and those don’t exactly grow in potato orchards, do they? No Jimmy, helicopters are science.

Gene Kirkland of Monroe, Ohio ignored science and was killed slowly by the electromagnetic fields from the high tension power lines that surrounded his house. Had Gene Kirkland of Monroe, Ohio known more about science, he could have sold his death-trap home to some person of superior stupidity.

Gene Kirkland of Monroe, Ohio could have led a full and meaningful life, but instead, he turned his back on science.

Don’t be like Gene. Vote in the damn poll.

Again, here for your listening pleasure (what?) are my six favorite news stories and six favorite blogs for this, the last week of 1952. Hey, my wife was right, there is a gas leak in the kitchen! Way to go Mrs. Sinister!

1.”Needs to Proofread Press Releases” of the Week; In my beloved Canada, the other-coastal province of British Columbia has practically had its beaches fouled with the appearance of severed, human feet washing ashore at inopportune moments. One of these feet has been identified by DNA, but the name of the previous owner has not been released. The man, with both feet, went missing some time ago. Fortunately, authorities assure us in their daddy voices, there were no signs of foul play.

Dear RCMP;

If a human appendage being cut off and dropped into the briny deep does not constitute “foul play”, then nothing does.

I can only assume that calls from kidnappers are just pranks. Further, I agree entirely that the severed head with the note stuffed in the mouth was a self-inflicted can opener wound. That’s some good work, Lou.

2.”My Deadline Made Me do It” of the Week:The otherwise excellent Jonathan Alter of Newsweek (also a frequent guest on MSNBC, used to be on FOX) bitches an moans about the mixed blessing of online journalism. I don’t really have a problem with this until:

“Just about the only comparative advantage print journalism retains is in well-reported stories too long to be comfortably read online.”

…unless you own a printer, you silly hump.

When I’m feeling sorry for myself, I drink too much Listerine and pick fights with my neighbors; it’s less embarrassing than writing a column with national exposure wherein I imply that magazine stock is cuddly. Let’s be clear here, you’re not arguing for the journalism because it’s not financially viable anymore, you are merely arguing for the paper. Oh, by the way, I read this online and I haven’t seen a print copy of Newsweek outside of a doctor’s office since 2002.

3. “I’m not Saying this Because it’s Sensible” of the Week: John McCain holds Barack Obama personally responsible for high gas prices.

That’s right – it’s not market speculators, it’s not OPEC and it certainly isn’t the voters who consume more than their fair share of oil. It’s one guy named Barack who’s only been in politics for six years. This should be a blessing for Obama – if you elect him, he can also fix it single-handedly.

4. “Real Really Big Government Moment” of the Week: Beijing makes half of its drivers stay parked in order to reduce pollution. Apparently, they want the smog to be in smaller chunks by the start of the Olympics. To accomplish this, they have sensibly required that half of all cars stay parked on alternating days. On one day it’s plates ending in even numbers, the next day it’s odd numbers. If you have a complaint, please visit the local Glorious Department of the Motor Vehicle for you…BANG!

5. “Have you Stopped Beating Your Wife Yet?” Moment of the Week:From my personal pastor, Bill Donohue. Bill, I love you, but you’re making this too easy. Bill may soon earn his own weekly feature.

Bill gets his plus-size panties in a knot over what he presumes are cheap, personal shots taken at a someone in whom I am not at all interested. However, since this is Puff the Magic Catholic, he turns into a cyclone of yak poop. Allow me to quote Mount St. Bill:

“Catholics put a premium on forgiveness and reconciliation—they do not conduct vindictive campaigns of personal destruction under the guise of promoting the Catholic cause.”

That’s a very reasonable thing to say and I’m sure its true of virtually all Catholics who are not Bill Donohue. Jabba the Donohue continues, in the same press release:

“Should he [Ted Kennedy] be criticized? Certainly: I did just that…What I didn’t do was cite his past sexual indiscretions, one of which left a young woman dead.”

…way to slip that in the back door, you shifty conquistador.

6. “If I’m not Dead, I’m Hiding.” Revelation of the Week: Steve Fossett is still dead, or wants to be left the hell alone. A group of elite athletes and mountaineers (but not so elite as to have jobs, apparently) have given up the search for the billionaire adventurer.

In related news, an elite group of psychics will be predicting the winners of the 2005 Academy Awards, so watch for that too, they might actually get it right.

The Second Sinister Six

The following blogs did not offend me this week:

1. The Blog of Bex had the good sense to give me an award for correctly claiming that the best euphemism for the penis is “Mr. Vice President”. As a result, I now have a Bex-approved status of ‘Dan The Man’.

Please don’t anyone tell her that my name isn’t Dan.

2. The Awful, horrible and cruel Diesel assembled a random, piecemeal post that presumably strung together a bunch of stuff that he couldn’t turn into entire posts on their own. Since all of my posts are like that, I appreciate his sense of style. GO READ IT OR HE WILL DESTROY YOU UTTERLY.

3. Johnny Virgil at 15 Minute Lunch recounts that you can get something for nothing, but then you have to write about it. or the record, I will take any free samples of merchandise from any vendor (and I do mean any) and review it here in a frikkin’ heartbeat. I’ll even lie. I am cheap, with my honor easily purchased.

4. The Nemesing One, author of I’m Sure I don’t Know has written one the funniest and most terrible stories that I have ever read. I’ll leave it at that.

5. The Acorn King provides a great lesson in how to get your smarmy ass kicked off of Craig’s List. This is a two parter, and will almost certainly be adpated into a movie starring Meryl Streep as “tedious and predicatble Meryl Streep Charatcter #2″

6. Leighonline provides us with the cautionary tale of using any word that might provoke perverts to find your page via search engine. If you can stop staring at the pictures she’s posted, make comments that don’t attract the pederasty set.

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I need more science questions. Yes — YOU!

On Sunday, I was ready to do some serious blogging. I was going to watch the Sunday news shows and report them back to you. It would be with a twinkle in my eye that I reported Cokie Roberts had audibly called Sam Donaldson a ‘fancy boy’ on national TV. I would comment wittily on Tom Brokaw, elder statesman of the news business, slamming his fist into the table so hard that Senate majority leader Harry Reid shrieked like a little girl. Bill Kristol, I would have gasped, just ate a live trout on Fox News Sunday – imagine my glee.

But of course, this didn’t happen.

It started out all right, the orchestral drum beats of Meet the Press soon gave way to the liquid voice of Tom Brokaw who explained that this week’s exclusive guest was former Vice President Al Gore who had just announced a new initiative to get me to leave the room and make a fresh pot of coffee. I also played with the cat for a few minutes. Thanks Al.

I managed to struggle through about 6 minutes of this. At first, I thought that my TV was broken, but it turns out that Al was just wearing a black suit. What I gathered is that, even though some rich oil dude came up with a much better plan, Gore wants all electricity in the United States to be produced by renewable resources in the next ten years. He then would apparently become overlord of the post apocalyptic terror world that would ensue after the economy collapsed. He would, in a nod to Mad Max and his own spiraling weight, claim the title of ‘The Lord Humungus’.

T. Boone Pickens (who has a great blues name), is also willing to throw 1 billion dollars of his own money into his plan to build a wind corridor from Texas to North Dakota. Al Gore, conversely, has made a hard pledge to open-mouth kiss Tipper at any public event for a dollar.

The third segment of Meet the Press was devoted to my neighbors practicing karate in the park across the street.

I miss Russert.

At several points, I had to switch positions of the couch in order to keep my tongue from sliding back into my throat and choking me – it was very upset with my brain. I unintentionally looked out of the living room window and into the park across the street. Three men – adults – were engaged in some kind of mixed martial arts exercise for the neurologically impaired. One guy, presumably the sensei or fleur-de-sel or whatever, was even wearing his karate jacket.

He would, ever so slowly, hoist one of his two ‘students’ up for a hip-toss. Stopping he would explain something about shooting energy like the guys on Dragon Ball Z or how to be super cool like Chow Yun-Fat. All of this happened with 170 pounds of stupid poised at the perfect oaf-throwing fulcrum. It was no surprise when both student and teacher collapsed into a heap of dust and comic book exclamation marks.

However, this was still considerably better than Al Gore.

This Week wasn’t even on ABC because they were showing golf. I tried to watch Reliable Sources on CNN, but suddenly felt compelled to go and shave. Eventually Fox News Sunday came on, and I just couldn’t do it. It seemed like the editorial choices were between Barack Obama worsening terrorism by traveling to the Middle East or actually coming back as a terrorist himself.

It was more than I could take. Sadly, when I went back to the window, the Karate Boys had left.

This Sunday was not very Sinister. For shame, everyone who works in the media or broadcasts golf, for shame.

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Science Needs Your Help!!

I claim to be ‘wicked smart’, but I have also claimed to have been in prison and be the resident of a peat bog. Some or all of these claims may be true, but now it’s time to put one of them to the test.

I need your questions to work my brain. In the next week, I’d like everyone to ask a science question in the comments to this blog. The lovely Mrs. Sinister and I will pick as many of these as I think that I can answer in one post. I may even ask you to vote on the questions. Or I may not, or I may forget.

It’s not hard – here’s an example I just made up:

Question: I know that planets have elliptical rather than circular orbits, what causes this?

Answer: Roy Orbison.

Obviously, this is not a serious answer since Roy Orbison is actually a mathematical constant.

So get those questions in; science waits for no one.

At the request of the malevolent but nigh-irresistible Diesel, I will impart some small sliver of my blogging knowledge so that some of you might also become lazy, half-assed amateur humorists who are easily distracted and deeply disgusted by the superior performance of inferior persons. When I say “nigh-irresistible”, I am making reference to those three magical nights at the Hilton in North Platte, Nebraska. Diesel knows what I’m talking about.

1. Facts; Your Doorway to Lying – Facts are an excellent place to start a column, but not to finish them. If I began and ended with facts there wouldn’t be a great deal of humor, would there? If you want to read the Associated Press, then go ahead.

Here’s an example of a good fact/lie ratio:

a) Senator Barack Obama held a rally in Raleigh, North Carolina where he raised funds to retire the campaign debt of Senator Hillary Clinton.

b) Senator Barack Obama held a rally in Raleigh, North Carolina. In addition to being confused by the constant muttering of ‘rally-Raleigh’, the audience was clearly alarmed by the presence of Senator Hillary Clinton. A clearly inebriated Clinton was offering to ‘help out’ male supporters in the cloak room for thirty dollars.

In addition to providing us with a laff-tastic experience, fact-based lying also gives me the opportunity to call a prominent political figure a drunken whore.

2. Be Prepared to use the Phrase ‘Drunken Whore’ - please see item #1.

3. Be a Whore! – It behooves me (yes, I am a goat man) to mention that while I joke about others being a whore, I am in deadly earnest about my own prostitution. I’m sure that there is some kid who’s just started his degree in Literature and New Media Studies who wants to argue that my work should be just as satisfying if no one reads it, but this kid is a damn idiot. However, if he comes here to argue, then that’s a hit.

In your face, liberal education! Bring me traffic, hippy!

You’ll need to network – my sugar daddy of choice is the afore-mentioned Diesel because he doesn’t beat me all that badly anymore. Strut your stuff, be a whore. If a couple of hundred people show up to eye your junk (Leigh, I’m mostly referring to you) you will feel great and want to punch the New Media Kid in the larynx.

4. Make Comments – While you may be convinced that you’re the only thing on the Interwebs worth reading, you at least need to pretend otherwise. You don’t need to actually read anything. Just find a single line and personalize it. That way, you will have simulated reading, internalizing and relating to the blog.

You spot the line: “…my favorite part of the movie was the attack on the interplexing beacon…”

You comment: “This is so weird; Interplexing Beacon was my wife’s maiden name! ur teh best!”

You’ve just made a blogging friend for life.
5. Be Smart, Dummy – Nothing leads better to an easy joke than saying insanely obscure things followed up with yak poop. For instance;

Researchers at the Paranal Observatory have discovered several important characteristics of scalar dark matter using a refined version of the gravitational lensing technique. The research team had no insight as to what percentage of dark matter was yak poop.

Yak poop, comedy’s magic elixir…

5a. Use a Lot of Links – By linking to fascinating pages full of information, you can distract the reader from a poorly written post every time.

6. Be a Canadian – If you’re Canadian, you can comment on anything (if it’s not also Canadian) and it’s a win-win. If you’re only right 10% of the time, then you are to be commended for knowing so much about the world, since you’re a stupid Canadian. If you get it all wrong, you’re still just a stupid Canadian and no one expected you to learn anything while fighting Arctic Beavers and worshiping Lester B Pearson.

7. Beware of Sex! – The old adage that sex sells is a good one, but who might end up as your customers? If you must have sexual content in your bog, make sure that it seems like you did it by accident or are being ironic. Since no one on the internet knows what irony is, it should be easy. In fact, it’s so easy, that I probably put a provocative picture beside this paragraph.

8. Remain properly hydrated – A bucket if ice water will do you and your PC a world of good.

9. Don’t be Funny on a Mac – It doesn’t work.

10. Practice Makes Perfect – Unless you genuinely have no talent. In that case writing incessantly will just make you look like more and more of an ass.

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Together as a confraternity of bloggers – maybe even a family, I think we’ve all learned the most important lesson of all; that my favorite part of the movie was the attack on the interplexing beacon.

Every so often, when I run out of any real ideas, I will present a roundup of my six favorite news stories and six blogs I read that didn’t suck. When I write “favorite” you should probably interpret that as “the first six that I could find on Fark.com”. Further when I say I found six blogs that “didn’t suck” that could probably be interpreted as “six blogs that I remember because there was a pretty picture in them”.

So here we go:

1. Bad Idea of the Week: Christopher Hitchens gets himself water-boarded.

Of all the bumpy, self-aggrandizing curmudgeons who are infinitely better writers than I am, Christopher Hitchens is my favorite. I hold the man in such esteem because;

* Hitchens is truly one of the towering intellects of our time.
* Hitchens is an important representative of some contrarian viewpoints.
* Hitchens does not live anywhere that would make easy for him to annoy me in person.

It therefore astounds me that the man is as colossally stupid as to let himself be water-boarded. This is supposedly to enlighten us on whether or not being water-boarded is torture. Here’s hint, Chris – if you need to ask, stay the hell away from it. I am quite satisfied, for instance, that a kick to the sack constitutes torture – I do not need or want a demonstration. I will dispense them, if pressed.

Speaking of which:

2. ‘I Hoped You Weren’t Listening’ of the Week : Jesse Jackson wants to cut Obama’s Nuts Off

I know that everyone’s already heard about this, but holy crap! Jesse Jackson, the whacky Reverend and nearly irrelevant spokesperson for a constituency that ignores him wants to perform a righteous ballectomy on Barack Obama. Just imagine the unfettered wrath that would plague Obama if Jackson weren’t a Reverend…just imagine what Al Sharpton must want to do! On the upside, this should help Obama with cranky white voters and guys who had their man-pills eaten by crocodiles.

3. Self-Inflation of the Week: Incidents of Wafer Abuse Rise Dramatically.

In a rampant, international epidemic of Catholic Wafer Abuse, two yes TWO people have either desecrated or threatened to desecrate the solid species of the Holy Eucharist. On cue, my favorite mountainous sack of exaggeration and Catholic bile, Bill Donohue leapt into action.

So says Bill:

“For a student to disrupt Mass by taking the Body of Christ hostage—regardless of the alleged nature of his grievance—is beyond hate speech.”

I’m pretty sure I don’t approve of trashing what other people see as sacred, but “beyond hate speech”? I’m not sure that I even know what that means. I am however willing to wager that if Bill orders a Thickburger with no mayo and then there’s mayo, someone has been hate-speechin’.

Further:

“It is hard to think of anything more vile than to intentionally desecrate the Body of Christ.”

It’s not that hard at all…there…I just did it. It involved a pint of Kahlua and your desk blotter.

4. Angst of the Week: Singularities Are Racist.

In a stunning move of racial insensitivity, scientists have apparently refused to cleanse the language of astrophysics. In a stunning discovery, the term “black hole” is apparently still in use despite its hateful, racist meaning. Also, it’s painfully obvious that “massive bosons” is a sexist slur– and slightly arousing.

5. Didn’t Finish the Memo of the Week: Russia Threatens To Target Missile Shield with Missiles.

Criminals from around the world are trying to advise Russia on pistols and things that are bullet-proof. If I get any updates I’ll let you know.

6. WINNAR !1! of the Week: Iran Weapons Test Raises Cost of Oil, Pays for Iranian Weapons Tests.

a) Iran test fires missiles that can hit Israel (and hits them with The Shop just for fun).

b) Iran has a lot of oil.

c) Fears over a war between Iran and Israel prompt a swift increase in the price of oil.

d) Profit!

I don’t often have nice things to say about Iran, but you’ve got to give credit to the guy who breaks air conditioners to sell ice cream.

The Second Sinister Six

1. Leigh at leighonline wrote a post about her own boobs. I really shouldn’t need to explain why I am telling you about this.  Seriously – her own boobs! However, I think that this linkage constitutes me writing about her boobs, which may get me in trouble and called in front of a judge.

We’ll see.

2. Bee at Bee’s Musings wrote an absolutely delightful post about the new and evil yoke pressed upon all of us by the evil, yokey, but otherwise spiffy Diesel.

Sic Temper Diesel!

I think that means he has rabies. I think he also still self-applies that name and believes it is a good idea.

3. Predator Press posted possibly (alliteration alert!) my favorite Photoshop of the week, although I’m hard pressed to say why that is so.

4. Margaret at Nanny Goats in Panties illustrates for her readership the general hazards of putting labels on anything, anytime, anywhere. Ever.

It also goes well with my item on racist science.

5. One of the communal (and probably anarchist) writers at Renal Failure not only apparently speaks to ninjas, but does so on such diverse topics as post-presidential development of linguistics.

But it’s funnier if I don’t call it that.

6. Avitable at the eponymous Avitable reminds us all of the joys of watching children when you are a a childless n00b.  He’s complaining – I think he got out of it pretty light.

If it was my kids, he’d be dead.

SINCE YOU’VE BEEN HERE, YOU PROBABLY HAVE A LOT OF FREE TIME. SO, HEAD OVER TO Humor-Blogs.com. WHEN YOU GET THERE, PLEASE RATE THIS POST. YOUR VOTES KEEP MY TRAFFIC UP, AND THAT’S THE ONLY THING KEEPING ME FROM FIRING MY “MISSILE” AT ISRAEL.

In 1925, stuff happened; great big, jazz-crazed, temperance rallying, radio-listening wads of stuff. Some of the events of 1925 were tragedies of epic proportions, such as the birth of Merv Griffin. Others events, such as the appointment of Frank B. Kellogg as US Secretary of State, brought in the Utopian view that international crises could be solved by two scoops of raisins and those delicious flakes of bran. It was widely agreed that the selection of Kellogg was Grrrreat!!

But not all the events of 1925 were so clearly black and white. Well, there was the march on Washington of forty-thousand members of the Ku Klux Klan; that deal was about as black and white as an event can be. Other than that 1925 was a year full of nuanced events like American Zeppelin crashes, the development of the basis of quantum mechanics and the addition of the Pottsville Maroons to the National Football League.

What could conceivably be more not black and white than a Maroon?

For my purposes as a humorist, the most important event of 1925 was the Scopes Monkey Trial in which a young high school teacher was brought before the courts of Tennessee for making a chimpanzee drink mouthwash. Scopes claimed that it was entertaining and informative while the State held that giving monkeys fresh breath would only lead to inter-species dating. Further, in nearby Mississippi, Governor Henry L. Whitfield has just rocked the state by being the first elected official to put lipstick on a pig, and then consummate the relationship.

Apparently while giving a speech on improving the public schools.

Given that the lewd, groin-engorging Charleston was the most popular dance of the day, you can see why they would be concerned about the dexterous, multi-limbed allure of sweet-smelling monkeys. The eighty-third anniversary of the start of the trial took place yesterday, and I think we can all say that we are glad that the sensible people of Tennessee stopped that train at the station. Had the verdict turned out differently, how long might it have been before the horrified nation would have faced the Vagisil Manatee Trial? I think you see my point – society at the brink!

Hold on for a minute…

It turns out that the Scopes Monkey Trial is nothing at all like what I just described. The lovely and erudite Mrs. Sinister informs me that;

The Scopes Monkey Trial was actually brought because of a young high school teacher who taught evolution in science class in violation of the Butler Act. Butler specified that no state classroom could teach any theory that denies the story of “Divine Creation”.

After an epic trial (with a lightsaber duel, I’m betting) between Clarence Darrow and William Jennings Bryan, Scopes was convicted of teaching that humans had evolved from lower order animals – a charge that Scopes never challenged. Scopes was in fact a willing volunteer to a pre-planned challenge to the Butler Act proposed by the ACLU. The conviction was overturned on appeal. Ruling on a technical rather than legal issue, the Tennessee Supreme Court dismissed the verdict because the sentence (a 100$ fine) was issued by the judge and not the jury.

Mother of mongoose! My wife is wicked smart! She just dictated that whole mess of knowledge while driving the car, getting my oldest daughter to leave my youngest daughter alone and reading a news report about the anniversary of the Scopes Monkey Tri…

Damn her.

As near as I can tell, Scopes did more to raise the issue than to settle it. In the United States, the matter was not settled until 1968 when, in Epperson v. Arkansas, the US Supreme Court ruled that laws forbidding evolution from schools was unconstitutional.

Meanwhile, 1968 was also the year that Bill Clinton got an unusual 1-A draft deferment from Vietnam and officially became a weasel. For writing that, Rush Limbaugh will send me a cigar.

The dramatic high-point of the trial was an exchange where Darrow and Bryan argue the literal interpretation of the Genesis account. By all accounts it was such a debate that the model of the argument itself changed. Darrow challenged the Biblical account as being incomplete, asking Bryan to account for the creation of Cain’s wife.

Bryan, in the best spirit of unmovable apologetics, answered that the agnostics could sort that out. For him, the inconsistency was not very important. Say what you will about Bryan and Darrow, they were both very impressive brains.

Today, after 83 years of leaning progress and technology, we get two fine specimens of humanity who wish to argue postulate blather on that the similarities between soda cans and banana’s prove that god exists.

The obvious stupidity of that should make your head hurt. If it doesn’t, I think I might be having a stroke.

SINCE YOU RUMMAGED THROUGH MY MOST PRIVATE AND INTIMATE THOUGHTS LIKE A PERV IN A PANTY DRAWER, DO ME ANOTHER FAVOR AND HEAD OVER TO Humor-Blogs.com. WHEN YOU GET THERE, PLEASE RATE THIS POST. YOUR VOTES KEEP MY TRAFFIC UP, AND THAT’S THE ONLY THING KEEPING ME OUT OF THE GREEK NAVY.

I recently returned to this blog to a standing ovation of indifference; a thunderous cacophony of people milling about politely. Then, without warning, 49 free hits leapt tiger-like from the shrubbery of the Interwebs and fell upon me; a grumpy, chain-smoking, gazelle with back problems and a mortgage. Such an event, or when my keyboard will not function because of Cheez-It sludge, gives me pause as well and a bout of abdominal cramps.

While drinking antacid like Gatorade, I discovered that 49 instances of the same search term had brought people to The Sinister Tower in a micro-burst of activity that lasted about 12 minutes. The phrase was “chris collinsworth hates keith olbermann“. I’m sure that this might be true, but 49 searches in less than 30 minutes? Are the Internets broken, with mine the only remaining page? Is someone looking to kill Mr. Olbermann and needs a scapegoat?

I have also concluded that many of you are awful, hideous freaks.

Three-headed, green lipped, dung-throwing presbyters commanding an army of talking monkeys would disconcert me less. Also, I could machine-gun such a monstrosity and be heralded as a hero. If I kill a fellow blogger, I think it’s a $50 fine.

Obviously, my traffic was coming from minimum security prisons more than the coffee room at the world headquarters of Mensa. My curious blend of high-intellect references and fart jokes brings in a mixed crowd.

Trivia; once admitted to the whispery, elite halls of Mensa, all you do is eat frozen waffles straight from the box and read Mack Bolan books.

Since I now know what brings you here, you must now know as well.

1. Peggy Noonan; Percentile Rank – 100.

Peggy is an accomplished speechwriter and author whom I barely remember calling a tool. Here’s the disturbing bit; when I Google search Peggy, this website does not show up in the first 15 pages. But if you image search Peggy on Google, I’m the 15^th result in the entire damn universe. Given that some of the Peggy searches also included the word ‘sex’, I’m inclined to think that people are searching for Peggy for the purposes of lewd, 58-year-old conservative self-gratification.

I have serious problems with this, and not because Peggy is almost 60 and looks like a well-coiffed guidance counselor. I have problems with this because Peggy also looks like the very sympathetic woman at the bank who keeps denying your car loan.

But let’s hear from Peggy:

“Now he is a statesman, when what he really wants is to be what most reporters are, adult delinquents.”

Honestly, I have no idea what this means. However, I think it’s clear from “adult delinquents” that Peggy is an epic tease, albeit a very unsettling one. Moving on…

2. Nigella Lawson; Percentile Rank – 66.

I brought this one on myself when I posted a publicity still of Nigella being orally amorous with some ice cream and claimed to have written x-rated poetry about her. Nigella is the ‘domestic goddess’ of the UK. Presumably endowed with supernatural abilities, cooking seems like a supremely stupid thing for her to do for a living. Regardless, she has also become well-known for appearing as if, without warning, she might have sex with her entire kitchen. Nigella has also been in a provocative picture or two in her life. I guess I can see how this would come together, so please dream of climbing Mount Lawson at your leisure. My only note on this is that since the most notorious British dessert is something called “spotted dick”, I would implore you to wear a condom.

3. ‘Hidden’ and ‘bathroom’ sex; Combined Percentile Rank – 65.

Other than my post on Larry Craig, I don’t want to know what you were looking for. If I could locate you, I would send you the bill for having my lot on the Interwebs scoured with bleach.

4. Old Boobs (not counting Bill Donohue); Combined Percentile Rank – 35

This is the combined score for people wanting to see the breasts of former congressbeing Katherine Harris and Canadian TV chef Christine Cushing. If I smash myself in the head really hard, I can kind of get this. If dried apricots with little hats on them is your thing, that’s great. But please do it somewhere else.

If I could suggest to the people who have a chef/breast fetish that they might tune in to the obviously insane Giada De Laurentiis, who flings her bosoms around the studio with almost hilarious disregard. Seriously, it’s like an exhibit at the Air and Space Museum. Or you could ask Mario Batali to take his shirt off.

5. Captain Catholic (see #4); Percentile Rank – 24

This is presumably in reference to Bill Donohue. Searches for Bill will only increase now that I’ve mentioned ‘spotted dick‘.

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So there you are. I will ask you not to consider that these searches only work because I seem to be writing about this stuff, albeit not intentionally.

My bad.

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