We came across this delightful offering in the model train section of a hobby shop last weekend. Unfortunately, they were all out of Cripples.
We came across this delightful offering in the model train section of a hobby shop last weekend. Unfortunately, they were all out of Cripples.
Penguin Group Australia is reprinting 7,000 copies of the Pasta Bible because one recipe calls for “salt and freshly ground black people.”
This reminds me of a Freudian slip I committed recently while having brunch with my father.
What I meant to say was:
Dad, will you please pass the pepper?
What came out was:
You lousy prick, you ruined my childhood.
For a laugh, read it aloud in a serious voice and yell the last two words.
The other day I had an original thought, which occurs less frequently than I would like.
Extemporaneously, in conversation, I referred to one of my very close associates as Douche ex machina (to see that upon which I was riffing, see here if you are not familiar).
Google? 13,700 hits on that exact string.
I fucking hate the Internet. It makes me feel small when I should feel clever.
In addition, I give you a ninja tea party.
As of five minutes ago, the search term “Dollhouse WTF?” returned 2,110,000 hits on Google. With good reason.
Joss, I’ll be waiting in line for whatever you do next, but that finale smelled worse than Bigfoot’s dick.
On Thursday, The Supremes apparently decided that America was in need of a good, old-fashioned ass fucking. In a 5-4 ruling they deemed that the portion of the 2002 McCain-Feingold law restricting campaign finance for corporations and labor unions was unconstitutional, as it abridged their free speech rights under the first amendment.
There will, no doubt, be a Congressional response, but probably not a very good one…
Fine.
Here is what I propose: If the poor, underrepresented corporations are getting their rights stepped on, let’s go ahead and let them buy whatever elections they please. But, as with other forms of sport and entertainment, let’s get some compulsory logos on their investments (apologies John, seeing as it’s one of the few things on which we agree):
I am so very tired.
Ow.
An amusing reversal. Thanks, Jack.