I'll Have The Bubble Gum, Please

So, I went to get ice cream last night.  As I'm sure that you can imagine, given my selection below, I just went with the bubble gum flavor.  And I can't imagine that the other one is all that popular!

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Relationship Status: Doomed

David's Bridal did some sort of online survey and found out that 49 percent of brides or brides-to-be answered 'yes' to whether or not they would change their Facebook relationship status to "Married" during their wedding.  During the wedding was determined to be at some point before the reception.  So I guess I could take that to mean that some of those brides just whipped their cell phone right on out of their corset as soon as they heard "I now pronounce you husband and wife".  I have no proof of that, but the whole concept seems so ridiculously insane to me to begin with that I really can't imagine that it wouldn't happen. 

After learning that slightly disturbing little factoid, I decided to check and see what the divorce rate in this country is at these days.  It's hovering just a little bit below 50% overall when you combine the divorce statistics from all of the categories (eg first marriage, second marriage, third marriage, what age you were during which marriage, etc.).  Huh.  That's right around the same percentage of people who feel the need to change their Facebook status before their freaking wedding ordeal is even over.  I realize that the divorce rate has been around 50% long before Facebook came around.  I'm not holding out any hope that it's going to go down anytime soon. 

Can there really be anything good that's going to come out of updating your Facebook status right smack dab in the middle of what is supposed to be one of the most important days of your life?  I can't imagine that there is.  See, the thing that those people don't quite understand is that it isn't all that important to everyone else what in the hell your Facebook status is.  I don't give a crap what any of my Facebook friends relationship statuses are.  Why would I?  And why would anyone else?  What Facebook says about your relationship status is so much less important than at least a hundred other things.  I'm not sure what this says about people, but I don't think that it's anything good. 

I'm going to be interested to see how the divorce rates are effected by Facebook in the coming years.  That is, provided that something new and cooler than Facebook doesn't make it obsolete.  (Hello?  MySpace?)  Actually, what would be cool is if we could track all of those dimwits who took the survey and said that they'd change their Facebook status before their wedding was over.  I want to know what their marital status is in five years.  I would be interested in seeing if it would be over 50% for that group of people.  I've got five bucks that says those marriage are doomed.  Doomed!  The rest of us aren't going to fare much better either if we have to be subjected to folks like that.  Facebook - Getting folks to take themselves way too seriously since 2004.

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He Paints With What?

Look, all I know is that there's this guy who calls himself Pricasso because he paints pictures using only his wiener as a brush.  Well, that's not totally accurate.  It's just the brush strokes for which he uses his crank.  The backgrounds are all done by using butt cheek prints.  (Wow.  Versatile.)  The weirdest part?  (Yeah, it gets weirder.)  The weirdest part is that he's actually kind of good.  I mean, it seems like he's kind of good.  His pictures actually look like something.  The subject matter is certainly more recognizable than when a gorilla throws paint at a canvas and someone calls it art.  I am sort of basing this assessment solely on my perceived and assumed inability to be able to paint anything with my body parts, though.  There's a video of him doing his thing below.  Behold! 
 

  

OK, I don't know about you, but I don't know if I could ever actually buy one of this guy's paintings and have it in my house.  They're only fifty bucks each, which is quite a bargain for art these days!  But the fact doesn't change that the painting has had his schlong ALL OVER IT.  And really, I'm not looking to start that sort of trend in my home.  Just because it's OK for one guy to rub his wiener all over a canvas, does that mean it's OK if my guests start doing that as well?  (Yes, yes, I'm misanthropic.  But occasionally I'll have people over.  And occasionally, one of them will have a penis.  Do I want him getting out of line?  I think not.)  I can't even think about the butt cheeks part of this whole equation.  In some ways, I think that revolts me more than the penile painting does.  Seriously, what's wrong with a brush?  Couldn't he be quirky in some other way that doesn't involve genitalia?

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Octo Nightmare

Brace yourselves.  Octomom has done her masturbatory porn video.  It should be out by June.  I guess there's a lot of editing or something that goes on with these things?  I don't really know and I don't really think that I want to, either.  Actually, there are a lot of things that I didn't want to know about this.  And I'm going to share them with YOU.  How lucky do you feel?  What if I told you that by 'lucky' I meant 'nauseous'?  Better?  Yeah, not really for me either.  Well, you've been warned.  Here we go. 

According to the Huffington Post, in true Octomom lunatic fashion, Nadya Suleman says of her first porn video "I'm very excited for it to come out!"  Well, that makes one of us.  She's excited for it to come out?  Why would that be?  She is a laughing stock.  She is vehemently hated by many (and for good reason).  She's dead broke.  And now she's doing solo porn.  That's exciting for her?  I can think of a lot of other adjectives that I would have thought of before using 'exciting'.  Words like 'humiliated', 'upset', 'ashamed' and 'desperate' come to my mind.  But not hers.  Nope.  She's excited.  If that right there doesn't tell you all that you need to know about this chick, I don't know what else I can do for you. 

Here are some other excerpts from her thoughts on what is apparently the apex of her life.  "My first shoot was amazing...Such a learning experience for me in so many ways. I don't think I could have asked for a better crew to work with. They were so patient and willing to teach me. I owe a lot to Wicked Pictures contract star Jessica Drake; she opened my eyes to a whole different world of self-pleasure that I could have never imagined. They made me look so glamorous, and for the first time in my life, I felt beautiful and sexy. I'm very excited for it to come out!" 

A learning experience?  What in the hell did she learn?  Not to have fourteen babies when you don't have a job, a place to live or a spouse?  And I'll bet that her eyes were opened to a "whole different world of self-pleasure"!  It would definitely be a different world to be doing yourself surrounded by lights and cameras and an entire crew of people.  You know.  Because usually when you're doing that, you're typically alone!  And I don't care what she says and I don't care what she was wearing, doing masturbatory porn is not glamorous.  Maybe her and I have different definitions of the word (which wouldn't surprise me as I can't find a single thing that we have in common other than we're both female, and quite frankly, I'm ashamed to have that much in common with her), but what she just went through was not glamorous.  It doesn't surprise me that it was the first time she felt beautiful and sexy, though.  It's probably really hard to feel like you're either of those things when you're harboring practically and entire baseball team in your uterus. 

But here's the part that kinda made me wanna throw up a little bit.  It's definitely the part that I read at least three times and each time all I could muster up was "Wtf?"  It's the part that said "At the shoot, Nadya also posed for a set of photographs in which she's seated at the head of a long table, her body covered with SpaghettiOs"  Wait.  Wait.  I said WAIT!  SpaghettiOs?!  Number one, why would you waste perfectly good SpaghettiOs in such an obscene fashion?  And number two, did I mention wtf?  Yeah, WTF?!  Did THAT make her feel beautiful and sexy?  To have her both slathered with a delicious childhood treat that she probably feeds to her own children?  How is being covered in SpaghettiOs anything but disgusting?  And whose idea was that?  Was it hers? I don't get it. 

Even after it is explained, I still don't get it.  It says "For the pictures, we had her topless with a thick sparkly red choker with a big red heart in front and red and white polka dot panties ... like 1950s style...SpaghettiOs were all over her body and she's even throwing the SpaghettiOs toward the camera. The label on the can was changed from SpaghettiOs to say 'Saucy Octos.'"  Uhh...what?  How is being in red and white polka dot panties and covered with SpaghettiOs "like 1950s style"?  I don't fancy myself a historian or anything like that, but I am fairly familiar with the styles of the 1950s and I have never encountered a style that included being covered in SpaghettiOs.  Ever.  And wtf is a 'Saucy Octo'?  They're not shaped like eights!  They're shaped like Os!  It's right there in the name SpaghettiOs.  Not SpaghettiEights! 

I don't understand any of this.  Then again, she is, by most definitions, mentally ill (in at least one form or another), so I guess that this isn't supposed to make a ton of sense.  There's still no word on how much she was paid to do this, but whatever it is I don't see how it's going to solve her long term problems.  And while she might have declared bankruptcy, I went through the paperwork and she hasn't filled out everything that she needs to.  If she doesn't turn in the required forms in a couple of weeks, her case is automatically dismissed.  And when (if) she does turn in the required forms, one of those will be a statement of her earnings and whatever she earned for the great SpaghettiO fiasco will need to be reported.  I'll get back to you when that information is available.  In the meantime, let's just try our hardest to forget all about this.  It's certainly not worth the nightmares that it will induce by remembering it.  But if you do want to remember it, there are a bunch of photos over at TMZ that should suffice. 

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How Does This Even Happen?

Sometimes, I hear of a story that is just so odd that I don't know how to feel about it. On the one hand, it's probably terrible what a certain person did. On the other hand, if that person couldn't have committed their terrible act without complicit involvement from the "victims", am I still supposed to feel bad? I'm not sure. And in this case, it's so freaking weird that I'm just all confused.

Our story takes place in the quiet West Wales village of Cwmduad, near Carmarthen. Let's just call it the UK. A guy named Reginald Gill came up with a plan. Now, just because it's a "plan" doesn't mean that it should have had any chance at all of succeeding. That it did succeed is completely astounding and believe me, I will delve into that later. But according to The Daily Mail, Mr. Gill had a business that involved the peddling of homeopathic products and treatments. It was in this practice that he was also passing himself off as a doctor. And as in his capacity as a fake doctor in a store full of hokum, he came up with what I can only describe as the stupidest idea ever. Then again, it did work, so what do I know?

Here's what he did: This guy told women that they had breast cancer. Horrible, right? But then, he told them that he had a cure! Oh, yay! (Yeah, you know it's not gonna be real, right? Ok, good.) And the cure that he proposed was for him, the "doctor", to suck on their breasts for thirty minutes a day! Now, I don't know if that's thirty minutes each or thirty minutes total. I guess that it's probably just 30 minutes on the allegedly afflicted bosom. But that's not the craziest part. No, the craziest part is that at least three women agreed to this!

Listen, in the age of the Internet, why you would just automatically agree to have a seventy-seven year old dude start suckling on you like a new born calf? Actually, in the realm of consciousness, why wouldn't you, at the very least, get a second opinion? You don't think to yourself, "Hmmm. Well, that's a little unconventional. I've never heard of such a treatment. And it sounds perverse. I wonder if I should get another opinion?" That never crosses your mind? Not ONCE?! What is wrong with you?

Somehow, this gets out. I guess there was at least one woman who received a fake diagnosis and an even faker treatment plan and decided that perhaps it be best for her to alert some sort of authority to the matter. He goes to trial and is found guilty and sentenced to eight years. I don't know what the typical jail sentence is for something like this, but I'm not going to argue with eight years. And really, I'm not so sure that he should be going to jail at all. Maybe if he had played his cards better...

Wait! Just hear me out! He could have told the judge, "Look...I came up with an absolutely stupid idea. Perhaps, the stupidest idea that's ever been thought up. It shouldn't have worked on anyone ever! How is the fact that it worked my problem? This was a bad plan! It is laughable that anyone would have fallen for it! That they did, I don't see how that's my fault! Your Honor." And if he had said that, he would have been right! It takes two! How do those women, those clueless, gullible, softheaded women, how do they not share any of the blame! If you think about it, none of this could have ever happened without their help. I'm just sayin'.

And accompanying this guy to jail will be his 35-year old wife! What is her deal? She's married to a weirdo who is 42 years older than her (and not in a good way) and she goes along with this little plot?! How does that work? Does he present her with his patently stupid idea (that never should have succeeded on anyone ever) and she just says, "Let me get this straight. You want to pretend that you're a doctor and tell women that they have breast cancer when they really don't so that you can suck on their boobs when you tell them that's the cure...I'M IN!"

I'm telling ya, I'd like to talk to everyone involved in this fiasco. Just for like ten minutes each. I have several concise questions that I'm dying to ask the willing participants in this lunacy! Granted, most of them start with "WTF", but there are some variances.

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The Ancient American Idol

I'm having issues with American Idol. Look, the show has been on how long? Eleven years or something like that. Now, as with anything, after eleven years, the popularity is expected to start to wane a bit. So if you're the producers, wouldn't you want to do whatever you could to counteract that sort of inevitable decline as much as you could? I would think so. And while I have no idea if the producers think that same thing or not, I do know that if that is their line of thinking that they are certainly going about it in a very strange manner.

See, last night, the contestants were to sing Billy Joel songs. I have nothing against Billy Joel. He's a fine musician and I enjoy many of his songs. But when was the last time he had a hit? A BIG hit? Early 90s? I thought that I heard them mention on the show that his last hit was 17 years before one of the contestants was born. And I'm not totally sure that his music has withstood the test of time. Tell me again why playing the songs of the elderly is a good idea for a pop music singing contest on television? I'm not seeing their logic.

On top of that, who do the contestants have helping them out (also known as 'mentoring', though if that's what they're doing, it's minimal mentoring at best) but none other than Diddy. Aka P Diddy. Aka Puff Daddy. Aka Sean Combs. Now, Sean Combs is a talented guy and a surprisingly good business man. (He's no Jay-Z, but he can hold his own quite well.) How did they come up with the idea of Diddy helping these kids sing Billy Joel songs? And how did they get him to agree to it? (Hey, Sean. You wanna help kids sing old man Billy Joel songs?" "Who? I mean, sure!")

Let me put this in perspective. Let's say that you're my age-ish. (I'm going to make my age-ish 40 for this discussion. Let's not talk about how old I really am, shall we?) Now let's fantasize that I was a teenager who could sing and take it back 24 years so that I'm 16 and it is now 1988. The Number One song that year was inexplicably "Need you Tonight" by INXS. "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" by Poison was Number Four. "So Emotional" by the recently departed (and constantly coked up) Whitney Houston was at Number Six. "Sweet Child o' Mine" by Guns and Roses was at Number Eleven. You get the gist. Now, if American had done then what they did last night and picked songs about thirty years older than I was at the time, I would have been expected to sing the likes of "Mule Train" by Frankie Laine and "The Hucklebuck" by Paul Williams! That's laughable to me now! And isn't that essentially what they're doing with the current American Idol contestants? It is! I just don't know why!

It'd be like if I walked out there (still playing into the fantasy that I could sing when I was a teenager) and the director said, "OK, guys. Tonight we're going to be doing the songs of Irving M. Cohen!" (If you don't get that reference, I've included a handy video below!) Or "Good news, kids! Sousa marches!" What the what?!

I don't understand what they're doing. The show isn't exactly compelling anymore. This is supposed to be a contest for the next biggest music star and they're having them sing outdated Billy Joel songs after being mentored by rapper Diddy and outfitted by sixty-year old Tommy Hilfiger. I don't get it. If I hadn't been watching Idol since the beginning, maybe I wouldn't feel so invested in it that I feel almost a duty to keep watching. But I'm really not seeing how this sort of thing is going to help.

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Super Kinky Bowl 2012

The Super Bowl was yesterday. I had a good time. I went to a friend's house and watched it amongst about 10 people. Good times. Good food. And little did we know that if we had only looked on Craigslist (and were partial to weirdos) that we could have had our food and drinks paid for (up to $1500 worth!) by some very odd and (seemingly) very lonely soul out there.

Seriously. Here is an ad that was posted on Craigslist on January 31, 2012. At least the guy was thinking ahead. I'll give him that. Don't get me wrong. He's likely a weirdo pervert who I wouldn't want within 50 miles of my home, let alone in my living room. But I like it when people don't wait until the last minute for things. I'll provide you with the text of this guy's very strange proposition, but just so you know I'm not making this up, behold!

And now, the text...

If you're planning on having a Super Bowl party this Sunday, I'm looking for a group of open minded people to let me watch them watch the game.

I'd prefer a party of mostly straight, young couples, but a lot of singles would be fine too, especially if there are guys there who get really into the game and paint their faces.

In return for letting me watch you, I will be more than happy to front the bill for all of your food and drinks, up to $1500. All I ask in return is to have a good view of the entire party and a private area to excuse myself to from time to time.

I'm pretty laid back and definitely won't bother you at all. In fact, if there's a way for me to sit out of view and still see everyone, that would be great. The last people who had me over for their Oscar party barely even knew I was there because I sat in a reading nook behind all the action. I could see and hear them but they couldn't really see or hear me. That kind of set-up would be ideal, if you have it. If not, we can improvise. Worse comes to worse I might just hang out in the bathroom for a little bit right before halftime and at the end of the game.

If interested, please email me before Saturday, and if possible include a picture of your party space and pictures of as many people who are attending the party as you can get your hands on.

OK, then. There are so many disturbing things about this that it's really hard to know where to start. I feel like I need a shower after reading that. This guy takes the whole "I wanna watch" thing to a completely different level. The whole part about him needing a "private area" is completely revolting. I might have "private areas" in my home, but they're not for that and they're certainly not for him and that! Good Lord, sir. Do people really paint their faces when they're watching the game at home? That seems...unnecessary. (Then again, I'm not sure that it's all that "necessary" when you're actually in attendance at the game either. I've never really understood the face painters. Or the chest painters. I don't get them either. But if you're painting your face to watch a game in your own living room, you might want to check yourself. Not like that!)

I can only shudder to think of what this guy looks like and what kind of a guy that he is. We already know that he's kind of guy that's willing to fork out up to $1500 for his kink. I don't know what that means exactly, but I don't think that it's good. I've heard of some strange requests before, but this is definitely one of the strangest. Now, if I could just sit back and hope that things don't get any weirder in this lifetime, I'd be happy. I'm dying to know if anyone took him up on his offer. Should I email him and ask? Hmmm. Do I really want to know? I kind of do. Actually, if someone did take him up on his offer, I'd really like to talk to them. I have several questions for people who are willing to let a complete stranger use their households private areas in exchange for a couple of bags of Funyuns and some dip.

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Nice Name, Loser

All I'm about to say here is that there are times when you can judge a book by its cover. Especially when that cover is the person's name AND when that person's name just happens to be Beezow Doo-Doo Zopittybop-Bop-Bop. And no, I'm not kidding.

According to something called Madison.com, "A man with a rather unique name was arrested ...because police said he was violating bail conditions from previous problems with the law." Really? Previous problems with the law? With a name like Beezow Doo-Doo Zopittybop-Bop-Bop? I'm shocked. Simply shocked. The article goes on to tell us that Mr....Zopittybop-Bop-Bop? I guess? He was..."charged with carrying a concealed weapon, possession of drug paraphernalia, possession of marijuana and a probation violation". Wait. What? There were drugs involved? No! Again, I'm shocked. Simply shocked.

Now, the court records show that this guy's given name was Jeffrey Drew Wilschke and that it was legally changed to the disaster that it is now back in October. I'd like to know who the judge or clerk or whoever is in charge of these things was who signed off on this. Clearly, this is someone who has some serious problems to want to change their name to Beezow. Actually, if it was just Beezow, I might be OK with that. Hell, there are plenty of people out there with whack-a-doodle names. Penn Jillette named his daughter Moxie CrimeFighter Jillette. And then there's Moon Unit Zappa. What the hell is up with that? But at least Moxie kind of sounds like a real name. And, strangely enough, so does Moon Unit. But at least they have relatively normal last names to go by. But when you go with Zopittybop-Bop-Bop, there's clearly something wrong with you.

I don't know if his brain is addled from the obvious drug use that he's been partaking in or if he's always been this way. But I do know that no one did him any favors by granting him his name change. You think he's going to be able to get a job with that sort of name? Is any place ever going to take him serious after they see his name and then learn that he chose that name himself? I don't think so. I'd be willing to give the guy a break if that's what his parents named him, as it wouldn't have been his choice. (Then again, that would mean that there would have had to have been a Mr. and Mrs. Zopittybop-Bop-Bop and I find that to be highly unlikely under any circumstances.) But if I found out he chose that? On purpose? No. Not so much.

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Bad Website Design 101

Today's topic is introduction to bad website design. I'll be your host. What you are about to witness is real. Frighteningly real. I don't know who ever thought that any of these websites were good ideas, but someone must have because they're out there and they currently exist today. Granted, I realize that people got all gung-ho with things that you could do to websites when the Internet first started becoming accessible to folks who really probably shouldn't have ever had access in the first place. But even still, wouldn't you know from looking at some of these that they are just not a good idea.

Let's start with Bobdul Johnson, Attorney at Law. (You're going to have to click and then come back. Sorry about that.) You're really missing out if you don't at least skim through his FAQs. It probably doesn't bode well for this guy that when you click on the link that says "List of cases won/settled out of court" that the link is broken. Not surprising or anything like that. Mostly just amusing.


Now we're going to take a look at what appears to be the personal website of a chap named Govind Tiwari. Mr. Tiwari seems to really enjoy Photoshopping his image into and onto just about everything. He also is a very proficient blinker. The most pressing question that I have is why his cell phone number only works on Sundays. I'm contemplating calling on Sunday and asking him.



Here we have a website by a one Michael Blount. His site was created during the dawn of the Internet. Michael obviously realized that the Internet had a huge potential when it came to meeting chicks and forming relationships with them, so his eleven year old self set up a page where his "future girlfriend" could hear what he sounded like and see what he looked like and then she could send him a message and their lives of bliss together could begin. (Yeah, that never happened. And not because his site wasn't a success, but because Mike turned out to be gay.) You'll want to have your speakers on so you can hear his soft, creepy little voice.


Yvette wanted to sell bridal dresses. I guess she must have gone insane in the process because her website, Yvette's Bridal Formal is, well, insane. Oh, and if you still have your speakers turned up from the last one, you might want to turn them down just a bit, lest you be bombarded with the ragtime piano music that constantly plays in the background of this disaster.Over here, we have Mahir. Mahir seems to want to meet a woman. I guess that's why he opened with "I KISS YOU!!!!! It's kind of forward. Maybe he might want to consider toning it down just a bit. Or removing the website altogether. Whichever.



And finally, we have this weird Peter Pan guy. And as weird as that is, somehow, the guy manages to make some money off of it. I guess he sells his "music" and various other items like mouse pads and what not. The whole thing frightens me, really. And it's weird. But really, to each their own, right? Right. But could they at least do "their own" with better web design? Please?

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This Is Why She's Like That

Hey, so, we haven't heard much from Lindsay Lohan in a while. I'm not complaining, mind you. I'm thrilled. But some pictures surfaced of her recently and judging from their content, I'm just going to say right now that Lindsay never really had a chance for a normal life. Given her parents? Not a shot. And from what I can tell, at least her mother isn't really going to be the best influence on fragile little empty-headed Lindsay. And I know that's kind of harsh, but I'd say that about anyone who I saw in pictures making out with their own mom. Wait. What? You heard/read me. Behold!

There you have it. No boundaries. No conscience. No dignity. Just a mom giving her daughter a little tongue while the younger brother tries to ignore it by pretending to text anyone. (Text! Text, little boy! Text like the wind!) It's a wonder that she's lasted as long as she has.

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Coming Soon!

Need something to wash down that s*** sandwich that I discussed a couple of days ago? How about an apple flavored shot of horse semen? No? Are you sure? Because they're out there and, apparently, there are people who are paying to have this...experience? I don't know what to call this at all. Really. I'm running out of words to describe the idiotic.

According to the Dominion Post, "...Apple-infused horse semen shots...are part of the central Wellington pub's entry in the nationwide 14th annual Monteith's Beer & Wild Food Challenge". Wow. Challenge accepted, eh? Holy crap. How this made it onto the menu at the Green Man Pub after the "challenge" is beyond me. But apparently, people (mostly women) want to try it.

It is what it says that it is. It's horse jizz with the lovely taste of apples infused in it, presumably ruining the lovely taste of apples. And according to the article, "...the drink was proving most popular with women." Jesus. Ladies, you're not helping anything by drinking one of those. Not helping a thing. This just turns the whole thing into one big game of "Let's see what else she'll buy!" And I'm pretty sure that's how the world ended up with thousand dollar purses and fifteen hundred dollar shoes! And considering that 20 vials of the...stuff costs $300 dollars, this sort of stupidity isn't going to come cheap. (Pun SO not intended. I barely want to write about this, let alone brainstorm up witty little mannerisms.)

The chef at the Green Man Pub, a one Jason Varley, "...admits to trying the drink himself which he said was "ok", and "like custard"." No, it doesn't. I haven't tried, nor am I going to. But I can tell you right now that it does not taste "like custard". You know what does taste "like custard"? That's right. Custard! Not...this. Or...that. You know what I mean! It does not taste like custard! It doesn't taste like chicken, either, so don't even go there! If something has to taste "like" something else, why don't you just eat the something else? That's why I don't eat things that are made out of tofu. "It tastes like chicken, but it's really tofu." What's the point in that? Just eat some damn chicken. Same with this...stuff. If it tastes like custard, dear God, please have some custard instead.

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Gotcha!

Well. I had no idea that I would be writing about this today. And I must say, it has been a very welcomed surprise. Ding-dong, bin Laden is dead.

When I heard that President Barry was going to address the nation tonight, I was really hoping that it was going to be about aliens. But the way that it turned out ended up being at least one hundred times better. Turns out that ol' Weird Beard was holed up in a walled-off compound (that I cannot wait to hear more about and perhaps model my own after) in someplace called Abbottabad which is in Pakistan. And since we're fighting wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, it totally makes sense that he's in Pakistan, right? Don't answer that. The point is that he's dead. And it's about freaking time.

And look, while I complain and bitch about a lot of things here, it doesn't change the fact that I'm pretty proud to be an American. And it's on days like this that I'm really proud. And while I'll be in a celebratory mood tonight (I'm writing this on Sunday), tomorrow I'm going to start looking for signs that this is the beginning of the end of us at war in other countries,. Oh, and I'll also be waiting to see the death certificate.

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What's He Pointing At?

There is not crap on TV on Saturday nights. Well, there is crap on TV. Lots of it. But there isn't any crap worth watching (for the most part) on Saturday nights. Sometimes you can hope for a good movie, but for the most part, it's crap. And last night I ended up settling on watching Back to the Future III. Not crap by any means. I did notice something a little weird, though.

At the end, when Doc and Clara come back to 1985 with their two boys, Jules and Verne, they're talking with Marty and Jennifer. And as Doc is yammering on about how no one's future is set in stone just yet (unless you're Lindsay Lohan and in that case, you're pretty much screwed) and it is what you make it, one of the boys makes this odd hand gesture toward his penis. That's right. Toward his penis. It was sort of like a 'come hither' gesture followed by very distinctive pointing. And if you've ever seen Back to the Future III then you know that it has absolutely nothing to do with a penis whatsoever! The video of it is below. I'm open to suggestions as to what the what was going on there.

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Charlie Sheen Tattoo - LOSING!

I thought that the nation had reached its idiocy threshold simply because the Charlie Sheen "concerts" (or whatever you want to call them) have been selling out wherever it is announced that he is going to "tour" (or whatever you want to call it). Seriously. Selling out. He sold out TWO shows at Carnegie freaking Hall! I thought the answer to the old question "How do you get to Carnegie Hall" was "Practice. Practice. Practice." I guess the new answer is "Hookers. Crack. Fired from a hit TV show." But apparently the idiocy threshold was just barely cresting, as I just learned that someone has gotten themselves permanently inked with the atrocity below. Behold!

What I don't get is how anyone could have a tattoo like that AND have the word 'winning' underneath it. I think if I were the tattoo artist, when I got to that point I'd have to say, "Enough is enough."

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Then What WAS The Motivation?

If you're on a quest to find who is possibly the world's worst psychiatrist (or minimally, the least observant psychiatrist), stop right now. Have I got a lead for you.

Let's go to Waterloo, Iowa and learn from the fine, fine reporting of KCRG. That's how we learn about the misdoings of a one fifty-three year-old (and obviously old enough to know better) Larry Twigg. Mr. Twigg, who is a former teacher, was arrested in February 2010 after being accused "...of having a 17-year-old student shower in chocolate syrup and play strip video games". Let's just stop right there for a minute, shall we?

I don't even think that I know what the majority of that sentence even means. You can "shower" in chocolate syrup? Like...through a shower head? A squirt bottle? It's a rather thick substance. How do you shower in it? Is that just a metaphor and they really meant just "pouring"? I don't know, but I can't spend too much time on that because I'm really scratching my head over "strip video games". What the what? I fancy myself a video game enthusiast. A connoisseur if you will. But I am rather unfamiliar with the strip video game arena. And really, while I thoroughly enjoy video games and I thoroughly enjoy what can come from stripping, the two really don't go together. How can you concentrate on both of them at the same time? You can't! They both deserve your utmost attention and probably should not even be combined.

But back to the issue at hand. So, this guy gets arrested for, in short, being a weirdo. Now he's trying to have the case dismissed because in Iowa the "...law says the offense requires that the act is done to arouse or satisfy a sexual desire." No problem, right? Wrong. See, that's because "...the psychiatrist hired by the state will offer an opinion that Twigg's acts weren't sexually motivated." Wait. What now?

Correct. You have as much information as I do. Showering at 17-year old with chocolate syrup and playing strip video games is not motivated by the need to satisfy a sexual desire. To which I must ask the seemingly obvious question: How so? That seems to be the only thing that would be motivating this sort of activity. What else could it be? A love for chocolate syrup? A fondness for the suspense filled moments of who is going to have to remove an article of clothing following a loss after an exhilarating round of Mario Kart? Could it be either of those things? Technically? Yes. Was it either of those things? Hell no.

This psychiatrist hired by the state...is on glue? I'm dying to know what in the world he thinks was the motivation behind this very, very odd, odd behavior. I would expect this sort of lunacy from a psychiatrist hired by the defense, but this guy was hired by the state. I don't get it. I really don't. But I'm open to hearing an explanation. In fact, I look forward to it. In the meantime, I'm going to go play some video games with all of my clothes on and without a drop of chocolate syrup in sight. Boring, perhaps. But legal and totally explainable.

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