Warning Label Warnings

I am over the stupid warning labels that are on every damn thing that we eat or use these days. Everywhere. Everything. There's always a little box or a 237 page instruction booklet, half of which contain warnings about the various ways that the product that you just bought can injure you, maim you, blind you, decapitate you, sterilize you or just plain old kill you.

Things like a manufactured fireplace log which bears the label: "Caution - Risk of Fire” OK, it's a fireplace log. I don't want a "risk" of a fire, I want a guaranteed fire! That's why I bought the log! Or a smoke detector label reading: “Do not use the 'Silence' feature in emergency situations. It will not extinguish a fire." It won't? Not even if it's a loud fire? Which brand of smoke detector will extinguish a fire via it's 'Silence' feature? Oh, none of them? That's right...because it's stupid. I got it.

My guess is that the majority of these labels are the result of some genius out there (most likely from Flori-duh) actually using the product for the very reason that it now has to warn against. Things like the label on hair dryers that reads: "Never use hair dryer while sleeping." See, now I disagree with that. I would love to see someone use their hair dryer while they are sleeping! Actually, I think it's more that I'd like to see what kind of person would think that would work and in what situation where they'd actually try to do it. THAT would be entertaining, you have to admit. Or what about the labels on irons that read: "Never iron clothes while they are being worn” They put that there just in case you're the hurried, wrinkled type who never seems to find enough time to iron his clothes before putting them on. Good Lord.....

Here's the latest attempt at someone trying to warn and save the public from something that they really didn't need to be warned about nor saved from. Over there at Yahoo! News we learn of a minor league baseball team, the West Michigan Whitecaps, that is offering up a new menu item this year over there at the Fifth Third Ballpark. The item is a burger, but it's not your ordinary burger. That is, it's not your ordinary burger only if you're unaccustomed to eating a hamburger that weighs in at four pounds. Wait. What?

Correct. The burger, dubbed the Fifth Third Burger (after the ballpark of the same name and approximately the same size) consists of five, 1/3 lb. hamburger patties which are topped with a cup of chili, five slices of American cheese, salsa, nacho cheese, lettuce, tomato, sour cream and Fritos corn chips and served on an 8-inch sesame seed bun. I feel a little sick just reading about it. The behemoth burger will run you $20, but it can feed a family of four, so you do the math. (Why can't it feed a family of 5? There are 5 hamburger patties on it, so why only 4? Actually, the thing is so huge, why not 10?) Regardless of how many it can feed, you know that it's mainly going to be consumed by dudes who "know they can eat the whole thing before the game is over".

The Whitecaps are no strangers to having "interesting" menu items. In the past, they've sold deep-fried Twinkies and deep-fried Pepsi ("cola-flavored batter dunked in hot oil and drizzled with Pepsi syrup.). A one Scott Lane, the president of the Whitecaps, said that they will "deep-fry just about anything" and that he's currently experimenting with Spam sandwiches. Joy!

And here's where the part that makes me insane comes in. According to the AP, some soft headed dietician at the Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine named Susan Levin, sent a letter to the team asking that it be labeled "a "dietary disaster" that increases the risk of cancer and heart disease." Really?!!? I hadn't considered that aspect. Oh, please pipe down!

Who, who, WHO is that "warning" supposed to be for? Look again at the burger and tell me who would be questioning it's nutritional value? Isn't it assumed that anything that is larger than your head is a) unfit for human consumption and b) inherently unhealthy if you should decide to eat it anyway, despite the food item to head ratio.

Does she think that people are going to be standing there at the ballpark, holding up the line while they agonize over whether or not to order the four pound burger because they can't quite get a grip on whether or not it would be bad for them?! I don't think those people exist. Who is going to look at that burger and think that it fits in with their daily servings of Jenny Craig?! No one! It doesn't need a label! Look at it! Does she advocate for a similar label on bottles of cooking oil? "Warning: Drinking the entire contents of this bottle may cause you to keel over dead or just not leave the bathroom for a week and a half."

Apparently, aside from getting bragging rights for the rest of your life if you do manage to eat the entire burger, you also get a T-shirt. On the front is the burger and on the back is the Nutritional Data box. It's not pretty, but it's just another reason why it doesn't need a warning label! The burger contains:

• 4889 calories
• 299.5 grams of fat, 460% of the daily value (DV) (119.2 grams of saturated fat, 597% DV)
• 744.6 grams of cholesterol, 248% DV
• 10887.9 mg of sodium (Holy crap! I mean, 454% DV)
• 354.9 grams of carbohydrates, 118% DV
• 198.7 grams of protein, 105% DV
• 1000% Total Flavor!

Fortunately for society in general "Whitecaps spokesman Mickey Graham says the burger is a gimmick that's being promoted as a very unhealthy menu item." There is currently no plan to label the burger. ::::sigh::::: My hero!

So, what have we learned? Plenty! Let's review! People are generally gluttons who will eat just about anything and the bigger it is, the more likely the chance someone will eat it. If something is bigger than your head and served at a ballpark, it could kill you before the ninth inning. Dieticians have too much time on their hands and are generally seen as a pain in the ass to everyone under all circumstances. You should not eat the four pound burger if you are wanting to eat something healthy. You should also not eat the burger while sleeping, nor should you wear the burger before eating it.

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The Latest Fakeroversy: Grope-gate

Remember the last time that President Barry had an interaction with Prime Minister (known to some as the Prime Mentalist, but whichever you prefer) Gordon Brown? PM Gordie gave President Barry some sort of desktop pen holder that was carved from the wood of Noah's Ark by Jesus himself (or something like that, I really can't remember all of the details, only that it was extremely extravagant) and President Barry gifted back with a box of 25 DVDs. 25 DVDs that turned out to be the wrong region and therefore were unplayable over there in the UK. Oh. Unfortunate indeed.

Side note: I had initially defended the gift, saying that a gift is a gift and you should just say 'thank you' even if you hate it because it's polite, etc. And while I still don't think that it was a horrible gift, it was absolutely a bonehead of a play for someone to not get the correct region of DVDs. That's pretty lame. You can give any gift you want to, but it does have to work! That's the rule. You can't give gifts that are broken or incompatible because if they are, then they're no longer called 'gifts''; they're called 'crap'.

Somehow it seemed that everyone got all up in arms about the whole incident and the media was the arm-iest of them all and blew it hugely out of proportion into a fakeroversy (fake controversy) of epic proportions. So when I heard that President Barry was going to be meeting with the Queen whilst he was over there for the G20 Summit, I thought that he would find a way to redeem himself with the media and show the citizens of the UK that he doesn't hate them. (But even if he did hate the Brits, which he doesn't, how would that translate into purposely giving the Prime Minister a crappy gift? It wouldn't. That's why it's a ridiculous notion to toss around there. You know who you are.) President Barry might be redeemed (or, at least, forgiven), but that didn't stop the criticism from becoming media fodder around the globe. What did he do, you ask? He didn't do anything. It was Michelle who was the fakeroversy topic this time. Because she touched the Queen. Wait. What?

Correct. She touched the Queen. Touching the Queen, while it may sound like some sort of San Francisco parlor game, is apparently a bad thing. It's like the Queen has this glowing ring of kryptonite which surrounds her and no one is allowed to cross the plane of said glow. And Michelle Obama touched her. What was she thinking? Maybe she was thinking that since the Queen touched her first that it was....wait. What was that? The part about who touched who first. The Queen touched Michelle first? The Queen started it? And Michelle touched back?! Oh, sweet fancy Moses, those in the media are morons.

Let me just sum up how this meeting went. President Barry and Mrs. Barry met with the Queen and a guy who is supposed to be her husband, Prince Philip, but reminded me of Mr. Burns from The Simpsons. Anyway, they met and the Obamas towered over the Royal Lilliputian couple. They exchanged gifts. (Here's where I cringed. I was waiting for President Barry to whip out either a very redeeming gift to make up for Gift Gate, or I was waiting for him to whip out that box of 25 DVDs that he gave to Gordie and re-gift it to the Queen. (Talk about breaking protocol! You never re-gift to a Queen. Never!) President Barry gave the Queen an iPod filled with showtunes. Quaint. The Queen gave President Barry a framed picture of herself and Mr. Burns. (As a friend had said to me about this: Ostentatious much?) Then they took some photos. Then they were whisked away to some secret location for some reception with a bunch of the other G20 folks (those would be the G19.)Then things start to get weird. Or they don't. It just depends on whether you're going to buy into the fakeroversy or not.

At the little chat fest, the Queen, who is not known for being overly affectionate, reached around Michelle Obama and appeared to give her one of those side hugs where you're just barely touching the other person. It's like your appendage is just hovering right above the surface of their skin, but it's not all the way touching. In light of that display of affection, Michelle must have figured out that it would be rude to not return the gesture and she gave the Queen the same side-hover hug. That lasted for about 10 seconds. Then the Queen removed her arm and a few moments later, Michelle removed her arm. That's it.

That's it?!?! Yep. That's it. Oh, wait, there was one more thing. Michelle said to the Queen: "I really enjoyed our meeting." In response, the Queen said to Michelle, "Now we've met, will you please keep in touch?" Aaahh. Sounds like she was still a bit peeved from all of the touching, doesn't it? NO! It doesn't! What is wrong with the media?!

Seriously. Now that you know the story, let's look at some of the headlines that were used to describe this incident and turned it into the huge fakeroversy that it became. The folks over there at Time Magazine ran with the headline: "The Queen and Mrs. Obama: Did the First Lady Break Protocol?" CNN.com went with the equally inflammatory: "Michelle Obama's warm touch with Queen draws gasps." (Did it? I don't think it did. Pipe down, CNN.) And then there's Fox News who wrapped up the fakeroversy trifecta with: "Don't Touch: Michelle Obama Abandons Protocol With the Queen." Please. Please make it stop.

So now I keep hearing/reading the term "breaking protocol" or "a breach of protocol." According to Fox News "It had been considered a breach of protocol to touch the Queen." Hey, Fox News guys! Does your little "Quirky Facts About The Royal Family" pamphlet over there discuss the "protocol" when the untouchable Queen does the touching first?! You know, in many a land, having one person touch you first tends to indicate that they're OK with it if you touch them back. Granted, sometimes they won't be touching back; they'll be running away. But the point is that if someone touches first, they're OK with the reciprocal touch. A concept that was clearly lost on the hoping to incite hysteria media.

Just who is it that sets the protocol? Isn't it the one whom said protocol is for? Regardless, she's the freaking Queen of all of England! She can do whatever she wants, right? In my estimation, the woman is at least 173-years old and seems perfectly able to swat someone off if she thought she was gonna get goosed or something.

So once again, no controversy. False alarm. It's just a fakeroversy. Nothing to see here folks. Move along. Keep it moving, keep it moving. And just remember, George W. Bush not only aged the Queen by about 200 years, he also winked at her. If that isn't a breach of protocol, I'm not sure what is. The video of that tender moment is below.

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Another Moron Calls 911

Who knew that 2009 was going to be the year of 911? I have heard of more instances of people using 911 for the stupidest reasons this year than I remember hearing about in previous years. I don't know exactly what it means. Have people always been this dumb, but they're just now starting to act on their stupidity? Or have most of the real morons just evolved over time into the super-morons that they are today? Well, if the first 3 months of this year are any indication, I can pretty much guess that it means we're going to be hearing more moronic 911 tales of woe and doom in the future.

But why wait?! I know it will be hard to believe, but once again, the cess pool of all that is genetic mutation goodness, Flori-duh, is the setting for the latest unnecessary 911 incident. According to The Orlando Sentinel, a woman called 911 from the parking lot of a Walgreen's because she was having a problem with her car. The problem was her car wouldn't start. Actually, that wasn't the entire problem. The real problem was that she was calling 911 from (wait for it) inside of the car. Wait. What?

That is correct. The woman was inside of the car and called 911. She told the 911 operator that she couldn't unlock the doors and she couldn't roll the windows down because nothing electrical worked. She also added that it was "getting very hot in here and I'm not...I'm not feeling well." Oh, for cryin' out loud! Why do I feel like I'm getting yanked around here? Is this even possible? Not the situation, but the thought process that one would have to go through to come to the conclusion that one is locked inside their own car because it won't start. Has this person never unlocked or locked the door manually? Well, she was calling 911 (due to the increasing warmth of her predicament. Good thing it wasn't winter or overcast that day. She could have been in there until the 4th of July.) so I'm going to have to assume that manual labor, in this case, unlocking or locking your car doors by hand, has not been a part of her existence. Somehow.

And kudos to the 911 operator for being able to spit out a coherent sentence after hearing this woman explain her dilemma. Total silence for about 5-7 seconds. You know that operator was just sitting there thinking, "Are you kidding me?" And really, I don't blame her for the silence. I mean, you'd really have to put some serious thought into what to say to the person sitting in their car and calling 911 because the automatic door locks won't work and they can't get out.

The 911 operator asks the moron if she can pull up on the door lock knob. "You should be able to pull that up even if it's electrical," she said, with a tone of disbelief and amazement in her voice. And then comes the frazzled voice of the locked in moron, telling her, "I've tried that! And I..."

:::: click-click ::::

"Oh, OK. Ok, I've got that going." Dead silence. Enter the 911 operator again. "Are you able to get out of the car now?" (God bless that woman. Ma'am, you have the patience of a saint.) "Yeah, I've got the door open." See, I was afraid that wasn't going to be the case. I was afraid that the whole 'opening of the door' process was really going to throw this chick off of her game, but by some miracle (and you know as well as I do that at this point, her actually opening the door without difficulty or further instruction was, in fact, a miracle if there ever was one), she got it open. She's FREE! Good Lord.......

It was at the point of the door handle release that I think I detected a moment of silent revelation on the part of the bimbo in the car. It's unclear exactly how long she was sitting in her car trying to figure out what she was going to do, if she could eat her own body parts for sustenance until help arrived, scribbling her will on the back of a Big Mac wrapper, etc. I'm guessing she was in there for a while, as she did say it was starting to get rather toasty. So let's just say that she was in there for an hour (a low estimate in my opinion, given the circumstances). When she finally opened that door after the detailed and step-by-step instructions from the 911 saint, that very moment is when it actually hit her: She's an idiot. And she knew it.

Insert another long, extremely awkward pause before the woman says, "Well, OK, I guess I'll go find Triple A or something." Now, why in the hell she didn't call Triple A in the first place if she thought she was locked in her car is beyond me. If you're locked out of your car, you call Triple A. Why would the same not apply if you were locked inside of your car? Well, perhaps because IT'S NOT POSSIBLE TO GET LOCKED INSIDE YOUR CAR! Sorry, didn't mean to holler. Blatant stupidity in others seems to make me a bit shout-y.

You can listen to this gem of a 911 call here at: The Orlando Sentinel. It's fairly short (as you can imagine) and is totally worth hearing. It will likely make you laugh and then make you cry as you realize that someone thinking they are locked inside of their car is one of the signs of the impending apocalypse. The only thing that would have made this story worse is if she had been in a convertible.

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Presidential Transport, Superhero Style

Apparently, we have inadvertently elected James Bond or Batman as our fearless leader and President of the United States. I say that after reading an article from BBC News in Washington about President Barry's vehicles and all of the gadgets and all of the security that they have. I guess I always thought that they probably had bullet proof glass and doors and brand new tires all of the time. Oh, and some special holders in the front for those little flags and stuff. I had no clue that his Presidential limo can do everything but fly. (And it might actually be able to do that as well! But that's probably not something you want to publicize too much. You're much better off if you keep that to yourself and then one day just fly over the crowd in your big ol' limo. It's a real crowd pleaser.)

Every President has his own little entourage. But the entourage is far from little. President Barry's is freaking huge. According to Max Deveson for the BBC News, President Barry travels with at least "...200 security officials, dozens of political aides and a team of personal chefs" not to mention the "...White House medical unit - nurses, surgeons and other medical professionals." The medical folks are always on call just in case President Barry gets the sniffles or something. He easily travels with well over 300 people whenever he goes somewhere. I don't think I run into 300 people during the course of an entire day, let alone travel with them. (Ugh. When I travel it's to get the hell away from people. It certainly isn't to bring them with me. It's a philosophy that I adopted during one of the many family road trip vacations that I was subjected to growing up: "Always remember, when you're big, leave these people behind!")

Obviously, if President Barry is traveling over seas to a far and distant land, he's going to need a plane. The plane of choice is Air Force One, a 4,000 sq ft Boeing 747. It is also six stories high, 231 feet, 10 inches long with a wingspan of 195 feet, 8 inches. So it's almost as long as it is wide. And 231 feet is a little bit over 3/4 the length of a football field. Holy crap, that's a BFP (Big Fat Plane). It's a BFP that is fully equipped for just about anything that you or I would never even think would be possible for us to do on a plane. Of course it has an office for him to work out of and meeting rooms for him to, uh, meet out of. That's to be expected. It also has an onboard gym so that he can work out while in flight. That I did not expect. President Barry called Air Force One "spiffy" when he first saw it. Yes, I'm sure it was very "spiffy", to say the least. If there's one thing I think of when I think of the President of the United States, it's "spiffy". Or something. So then, Spiff, what else?

Well, if President Barry does get the sniffles and there are all of the medical personnel there, they might as well have adequate supplies for any sort of health related situation. Therefore, "...Air Force One has medical facilities, including a fold-out operating table, emergency medical supplies, and a well-stocked pharmacy." Huh. How well-stocked? Like Oxy-contin well-stocked? Or Grey Goose vodka well-stocked? Oh, and I can't forget the "...supply of AB-type blood which travels with him for emergency transfusions." So the next time you're reading about President Barry flying around in ol' AF-1 there, remember that he's also flying around with a whole bunch of blood as well.

Then we have the communications. When you're on a 4,000 square foot plane, you can't just holler from one end to the other if you need something. ("Yo, Michelle! Where's the remote?!") AF-1 has 85 freaking telephones, 19 TVs, 238 miles of wiring, and full communication services. What the hell are "full communication services" in addition to the 85 phones? Internet? Walkie-talkies? Shoe phones? That's a lot of stuff. It's a wonder that, given the way the rest of the country is run at times, the people who are in charge of everything seem to be able to get it all done and have the plane operate correctly. Air Force One might actually be our most efficient government program. Sad. We can get ONE plane to go like it's supposed to, but that's all. Nice.

But here's where all of the Bond-y stuff and Batman-y stuff comes in. Get this: "The plane is fitted with some robust security equipment including shields to protect its instruments from an electromagnetic pulse. The communications equipment is even capable of withstanding radiation from a nuclear attack." Holy crap. What?! Protective shields? Nuclear attack proof communications? (They really want to make sure they can get online in the even of global disaster!) And while that's all cool and very superhero, I haven't even told you about the helicopter and the limo yet. They might actually be cooler than AF-1.

The Presidential helicopter is called Marine One. They're not real creative with the names of the Presidential transport vehicles over there. (They're kinda like how Robert Palmer would do all of his music videos in the 80s the same. Couldn't think of anything else, eh, Robert?) Oh, but the President and his family all get Secret Service code names that are just all over the place. Names like Renegade, Renaissance, TwitterBerry, Love Muffin, Stud Cannon (Clinton, of course), Insufferable Shrew (Hillary), etc. But the vehicles are just One and Two. There's no Obamamobile, Obamacopter, Barrycycle. None of that. Marine One's little trick up it's sleeve is that it "...is capable of firing flares to divert heat-seeking missiles." And again, I say, Holy crap! Can't they demonstrate that for the public just once? Well, OK, once a year! Like on the Fourth of July! It'd be patriotic. It'd also be cool as hell to see a helicopter shoot out flares that whack a missile out of the sky. It'd be hard not to refer to your country as the "Home of the Brave" with something like that in the pack pocket of your helicopter. So to speak.

Then there's The Beast. No, not Hillary. The Presidential limo. President Barry's wheels has "...a tear gas cannon, a night-vision camera and oxygen tanks." A cannon?! That shoots tear gas?! Awesome! Put that on the Fourth of July lineup right after Marine One flares out some rockets! Cool. Wait, what are the oxygen tanks for? "It is capable of withstanding a chemical attack." It's hermetically sealed so they'll be able to breathe in there if the chemical attackers do their things. And I'm not saying I want that to happen, I just want to see how it works. How about if instead of doing the chemically attacks, they just drive that thing around the pig farms in Iowa (where the stench is rumored to be so horrendous that it justifies receiving the $1.8 million earmark included in the last bazillion dollar spending bill) and have it do it's thing there?

Along with all of that coolness, President Barry won't have to worry about having to dig around in the trunk for a tire jack to fix a flat because "...should its tires be punctured, the car can still drive at up to 60mph." The Beast is "...fitted with military grade armor at least five inches thick." Five inches thick? I'd read that it weighs 5 tons and is built from titanium, so that makes sense. It also makes sense that it gets 8 miles per gallon as well. (Go green, my ass.) "Its reinforced steel plating is said to be able to protect against bullets, chemical attack, and even a missile strike." Great! They can drive it out to the pig farms, seal it all up and then attack it with a missile (what's that's going to hurt? A few pigs? Mmmm...bacon.) so we can see it do it's thing!


The Beast is also equipped with "...rocket-propelled grenades and pump-action shotguns." Right on! A cannon AND a grenade launcher. Most excellent! Something this cool really should not be kept hidden. They should be showing this puppy off whenever they get the chance. How often does President Barry use The Beast anyway? Oh, right. Everywhere. They even bring it on Air Force One when he travels, reinforcing the impression that it is indeed at BFP.


After riding around in The Beast for a little while, I'll bet that President Barry starts to wish that he was a little more superhero-ish. If you have access to a car (that's legal for cryin' out loud!) that can shoot grenades, launch missiles, and provide you with your own air, you're going to feel a little more nerdy than usual in your coat and tie sitting in there. You're going to want a utility belt and maybe some shiny, plastic, knee high boots. Oooh! And a cape! You have to have a cape in a car like that. Totally.

With all of the stuff that he's had on his plate since he took office, I'll bet that there are days when he just doesn't want to get out of that thing. He probably figures he has air in there, he's totally protected and no one will bother him. And even if they did bother him, he could just launch a grenade at their bothersome ass. I'd stay in there too. Just me and my cape.

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Terrorism's Identity Crisis in the US

From what I can tell, President Barry has spent most of his time (so far) in office spending our money. Well, that an choosing people that haven't paid all of their taxes to fill Cabinet positions. But still, that's what he's been up to and it's not exactly all of the 'change' that I had envisioned or that I distinctly remember being promised to us. I guess I was expecting more...I don't know...change-y change. Or something like that. But then I learned of other changes that President Barry has made that I had been unaware of. Things like changing the names of things, for example. Things like the war on terror. It has a new name. Did you know that? It does. I swear.

The Obama administration has ditched the term "global war on terror" and it's cousin "the war on terror". According to the fine journalism on display over there in The Washington Post, "the war on terror" and all variations and derivations thereof are too much a reminder of the very unpopular Bush administration of yore. In situations like this, the most popular thing to do is to send out a memo. So in an office of security review over there at the Defense Department, it was "...noted that "this administration prefers to avoid using the term 'Long War' or 'Global War on Terror' [GWOT.] Please use 'Overseas Contingency Operation.' " Wait. Please use what?

'Overseas Contingency Operation', that is correct. Let's just noodle this one through for a moment, shall we? 'Overseas' I think is fairly self-explanatory. Now if it were 'underseas', well, that would be something! But it's not, so we know that it means 'over there across all of the water.' Next is 'Contingency'. According to the wordy folks over at Merriam-Webster, 'contingent' is defined as an even that may happen, but it's not for sure that it will happen. It's also something that is liable to happen in response to or as a result of something else. It lists the synonym as 'juncture', which is defined as "an instance of joining" or "a point of time, especially one made critical by a concurrence of circumstances". Synonyms of 'juncture' include 'contingency', but in this instance, 'contingency' is defined as something that implies a possible emergency where the likelihood of occurrence is uncertain. It then lists the example 'contingency plans'. And finally, 'Operation'. I think we're all aware of the various definitions of 'operation' and can safely conclude that is not that wonderful Mitlon Bradley game where you must extract all sort of internal organs and other objects from a rather rotund (and frightened looking) Sam the patient.

Putting all of those definitions together into the newest 'change' in this country, "Overseas Contingency Operation", we still have no idea what that means. We certainly don't know that it means kicking the asses of terrorists (if that is, in fact, what we're doing. They're very unclear on that, but I prefer to think of it as serious ass kicking that's taking place.). From our definitions, it could very well mean, "Something that may happen on the other side of all of that water, but we're not quite sure yet." That doesn't sound good at all. It could be taken to mean, "Something that might happen overseas IF all of the other pieces fall into place through the implementation of our magic and very secret method." That just sounds inept.

The bottom line, however, is that it means the same damn thing. You can call it whatever you want, it's still terrorist ass kicking at it's best. When President Barry was still Candidate Barry, wasn't he the one who said, "You can put lipstick on a pig, it's still a pig."? I think he was. And now that he's President Barry, what is he doing? He's putting lipstick on our war on terror, that is correct!

Apparently, early in Bush's term (you know, before he was so widely abhorred by the masses for standing by and watching our country fall victim to fraud and greed) "...then-Defense Secretary Donald H. Rumsfeld promoted a change in wording to "global struggle against violent extremism," or GSAVE." That's horrible. Fortunately, Bush liked "global war on terror" and went with that. So really, that was actually better than the 'change' that we received. The irony. Oh, if only all of his decisions could have turned out so well.

Captain Words-a-Lot also is changing the term for what we call the inmates at Guantanamo Bay. We will not be referring to them as "enemy combatants" any more. The thing is, they haven't come up with a new name for them yet. All they've said, according to The Washington Post, is that the Justice Department "...would seek to hold only terrorism suspects who "substantially supported" those groups and not those who "provide unwitting or insignificant support" to al-Qaeda and the Taliban. " Soooooo....wait. What?

Substantial supporters? What, pray tell, constitutes "insignificant support"? Like if you're Osama bin Laden's paperboy? All you do is throw the morning news into his cave, so that's just insignificant support? They have to come up with something to replace it with, don't they? How about Taliban Groupies or Bin Laden Fanboys. Kill Meisters. The ones in training can be the Junior Jihad and we'll call them the JJs for short. They could be Allah's Death Squad or The Munsters. Wait. (That last one may already be taken.)

Perhaps President Barry is just taking a cue from new Homeland Security Secretary Janet Napolitano (not to be confused with the ice cream trifecta of the same name. Oh, wait. That's neopolitan. Never mind.) and her referring to 'terrorism' as 'man-caused disasters' during an interview she gave with Spiegel Online. Wait. What? I mean, WTH?

Napolitano claims that she prefers the term 'man-caused disasters' because "... it demonstrates that we want to move away from the politics of fear toward a policy of being prepared for all risks that can occur." Um, what? Is she saying that we are currently not prepared for all risks that can occur because we've been referring to 'terrorism' as 'terrorism'? Because if that's the argument, I'm going to have disagree (right before I jump off a cliff and spare myself the time of waiting around for the impending doom). That's a rather all encompassing term that really has very little to do with what comes to mind when one thinks of 'terrorism'. 'Man-caused disasters' could refer to a wide variety of calamities. The Exxon Valdez spill would be a 'man-caused disaster'. The shooting rampages of late would be 'man-caused disasters'. The current state of the economy and the financial crisis would both be 'man-caused disasters'. None of those things have a lot to do with terrorism really.

You know what? Fear is a pretty good motivator in a lot of instances. I'm OK with a little bit of fear if it keeps us safe. I don't think we all need to be wandering around in a state of fear similar to that on September 12, 2001. But fear (or implied danger/risk) is what guides certain decisions that we make. We lock our house when we leave it for fear that it will get robbed if we don't. We wear our seat belt when we drive for fear that we'll get a ticket (and possibly get injured if we crash, but I think it's the ticket thing that's a motivator).We install anti-virus software on our computers out of fear that it will get a virus and trash the entire hard drive. Without fear, everyone would be living their life as the village idiot.

These folks can call anything they want whatever they want to, call the war on terror 'Bob' for all I care, but it isn't going to change what anything inherently is. If I have a tuba and I put it on my head and call it a hat (like I do every Thursday), that doesn't mean that it's a hat. I can call it a hat all I want, but it's still a tuba. I can even put a tuba on my head and call it a blue-finned mackerel; it's still a tuba. And President Barry can call things whatever he wants, but the bottom line is that the Overseas Contingency Operation is still a war against people who want to kill us and a terrorist is still an A-hole.

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Driving Off On Barstool Mountain

How it is that this story took place in Ohio and not Flori-duh, I can't imagine. If there was ever a story made for Flori-duh (aside from all of the ones involving hookers, drug addicts, morons, 911 calls and fast food drive-thru windows), this one was it. But it's in Ohio, so we're just going to have to adapt. And quick, because here we go...

It seems like a basic enough story. A one 28-year old Kile Wygle has a little accident and ends up being charged with DUI and driving with a suspended license. All charges are misdemeanors and, unfortunately, happen every single day all over the place. But not quite like this. See, Kile's little accident occurred when his motor vehicle that he was driving crashed as he was attempting to make a U-turn. The motor vehicle that he happened to be driving at the time was a barstool. Wait. What?

A barstool. That is correct. Behold!

According to the smoky folks over there at The Smoking Gun, Kile crashed his barstool near his home in Newark (which is presumedly in Ohio, as the story didn't say it was some sort of barstool-RV hybrid) and knocked his head on the ground. That's when one of his buddies called 911. (I'm guessing due to recently increased talk about head injuries due to a celebrity death. If you ever want to raise awareness for a strange way of dying, have a celebrity die that way and see what happens. You'd think we were due for some sort of head injury pandemic the way folks have been talking. We're a clumsy species, this is true, but we're not constantly killing ourselves because of it. So just put down the helmets and relax.) Kile wasn't wearing a helmet, but I don't know if a helmet is a required accessory when taking one's motorized barstool out for a spin. It's definitely a desired accessory if you're planning on crashing your barstool, however.

The folks over there at NBC13.com have the audio of the 911 call which I've transcribed below as it was rather short. How much is there to say, really? Kudos to the 911 operator for not asking the caller to repeat himself at any point during the call, as it's not something you hear everyday (which is probably a good thing).

Caller: "I've got a friend here who wrecked a barstool. Hit the pavement with his head."

911: "OK, But he fell just from the barstool?"

Caller: "Um, no. He was riding a barstool." (See, he knows it's going to sound odd! He's probably thinking to himself, "I can't believe this. Why couldn't he just wreck his car like all of the other drunks?")

911: "OK."

Caller: "Motorized barstool." (Good thing he clarified that for the 911 guy. Wouldn't want him to get the impression that the barstool was not motorized and his friend was just jumping up and down on it until he fell off! Yeah, because that would sound silly.)

911: "OK."

Yeah, my reaction would have been more of the chick over at Newark Police who answered the call from the 911 guy when he said, "We're sending a squad over there for a gentleman who wrecked in a motorized barstool with head lacerations. He's got alcohol on board."

Her response? "Allllllllll rrrrright!"

When police arrived and began to ask Kile questions, he "appeared" to be so intoxicated that the officers had a difficult time understanding him as he slurred out his name when asked. When asked what happened to cause his injuries, he "blurted out, "I wrecked my barstool." Then, when asked how much he had had to drink, the answer was, "A lot." (Ah, I love an honest drunk!) He also informed the officer that his barstool was capable of going 38 miles per hour, though he only had it up to 20 miles per hour when he biffed it. As for where he biffed it, he first told the officer on the pavement. Then it was in a field. Then it was down the road from his house. (None of that means that he isn't honest any more. He is quite drunk, remember? He's an honest and confused drunk. Who just happened to crash his motorized barstool...somewhere.)

In an attempt to narrow down how much Kile had to drink, the officer started by asking him if he thought he'd had 6 beers and Kile said more. (Methinks that Kile's pride in his ability to drink ungodly amounts of alcohol is not going to bode well for him in this situation.) The officer then asked him if he thought he had drank more than 12 beers and he responded, "More like fifteen." (Back to honest and not confused!) When asked when he started drinking he initially said that he didn't know, but then he changed his mind and said a couple of hours ago. (Back to honest but confused!) He also told the cop that he wasn't driving a vehicle, that he was driving a barstool. (Not confused!) He was pretty proud of this fact too, as he was laughing when he drunkenly stated his definition of a motor vehicle to the cop. And that's when the cop told him that if it had a motor on it then it "fit the definition of a motor vehicle." And the laughing stops.

Kile was taken to a hospital so they could check out his noggin. When he was released, the cop gave him the citations for DUI and driving on suspension. I'm sure it will shock you to learn that it took the cop a while to explain the charges to Kile as Kile kept interrupting and saying "I didn't do anything wrong." And I can't decide if I'm inclined to agree with him or not. (Feel free to click on the images of the police report below to enlarge them into a readable document.)

On the one hand, gimme a break. It's a barstool with a lawnmower motor attached to it. It doesn't look like more than just a really tall go-kart. We had go-karts when I was a kid. Then again, I also played with small, pointy toys that were covered in lead paint, had really sharp edges and could lodge in my throat and choke me if I ever swallowed one. The point is that even with all of the "danger" and never wearing a helmet for anything, the majority of us played around with stuff like that all the time and we turned out fine. Not great. Fine.

On the other hand, gimme a break. It's a barstool with a lawnmower motor attached to it. And Kile was rather plowed it would seem. And while 30mph isn't exactly going to qualify you for NASCAR racing or anything, when you're drunk I'd imagine that 30mph on a barstool could do some fair to moderate damage should things go horribly awry. And then again, so could a lot of things. So I'm sure he deserves some sort of a ticket (I think), but not for a freaking DUI. There. I think that's my position on this.

The guy who made Kile's motorized barstool and about eight others is Vonn "Skeeter" Watson. (Why am I not surprised that his name is "Skeeter"?) He says that he's never heard of anyone crashing one of his motorized barstools before. (Now that does surprise me!)

And a final humorous side note to this tale. In the news footage coverage (which will not allow me to embed it here) over there at NBC13.com, the reporter, seeming to think that people are too dumb to understand this whole motorized barstool crashing phenomenon on its own merit, she explains the police diagram to the viewer like this:"According to this police diagram, Kile, the stick figure, crashed his motorized barstool when he tried to turn it."

Thanks for pointing out that Kile is the "stick figure" in that diagram there because otherwise I would have been up all night wondering which one of those building he was. (Oh, sensible reporting...how I'll miss ye...)

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