Don't Mess With The Mrs. Garrett

Adam Sandler has a movie coming out on June 6, called "You Don't Mess With the Zohan." Of course. Here's the gist: Sandler is Zohan (surprise). Zohan is an Israeli commando (bigger surprise) who fakes his own death. (Doesn't seem like there would be much of a need to "fake" any "death" when you're talking about those over yonder in Israel, but to each their own.) He does the death fake-out move because he wants to pursue the hidden dream of many Israeli commandos, that of moving to New York City and becoming a hairstylist. Wait. What?

Look, even I couldn't make that stuff up. That's the plot of the movie. I swear! But here's the sub-plot: He gives his "clients" some "special services" (Translation: sex, sex and more Israeli commando sex. Big X-strapped chest bullets optional.) in a "back room" (Translation" back room). Of course, one day he is recognized for the true commando that is really is and he then risks losing all that he has cut, blown, gelled and styled up to that point. How exciting.

Now, there are many reasons I won't be seeing this movie. None of which are Adam Sandler. The guy is hilarious. But there is one reason I won't be seeing this movie that tops all others that I may or may not come up with. And that reason is Mrs. Garrett.

You remember Mrs. Garrett, don't you? That wacky housekeeper turned boarding school head master/mistress on "The Facts of Life"? (Hey, if you put a 'master' and a 'mistress' together, would you have a 'mattress'? Or is that just what you would need if you put the two together?) You know, Edna Garrett. That's right! Her! But just in case you're still a little fuzzy on the image, let me help you. Behold! The typical 80s sitcom character, "The Wacky (insert character title here)", Mrs. Garrett!

Ah, yes! Who didn't love Mrs. Garrett and the ways that she would steer the misguided teenage girls back onto the path of all that way good whenever they went astray? (Hmmm...She seems to have that FLDS hair thing going on, doesn't she? Was Mrs. Garrett a polygamist wife? Nah, couldn't be. But that hair.....) Without Mrs. Garrett, all four of those girls would have been knocked up before they were in their junior year over there at Eastland. Well, except for Jo. She would have been a lesbian (as if she wasn't already, come on!).

But why am I wandering down memory lane? Because it's a hell of a lot more pleasing to think of the TV that I watched as a child than to think of Edna Garrett doing it with Zohan! That is correct. Charlotte Rae has a cameo appearance in the film and her and Zohan have sex. And I think I just threw up a little bit. Let's take a look below at the object of Zohan's affection now, shall we? Behold! Um, well, ah, call it what you will.

According to the fine folks over there at the AP, Charlotte Rae told AP Television, "We make love together." Oh, sweet mother of God, make it stop. And for no apparent reason other than to make me cringe, she added, "On a table from one to 10, I rate him, 'Not bad.'" And on a scale from 1 to 10, I rate that, Oh my God!!

Oh, poor woman. She can't even remember that it's a "scale from 1 to 10" not a "table from 1 to 10". How old is she? Good Lord! Eighty two?!!? That's at least TWO Adam Sandlers put together! I don't remember this being ANY of the "facts" that were in "life" that appeared as weekly plots during her sitcom years. No one should ever be twice the age of the one they're doing it with if others are going to be watching them do it. (If no one is going to be watching, well, that's fine and please continue.) That's the rule! We ALL know it! Forget about The Zohan! Don't Mess With The Rules!

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New Meaning For Herbie The Love Bug

You know how it is when you have a car that you really like? I mean, it could be the biggest POS around and you just love it. Maybe it never breaks down or maybe it's one of those that you have to jam a screwdriver in where the ignition key would normally go in order for it to start or maybe you can always go at least another 50 miles once the gas light comes on. Whatever it is about that vehicle doesn't matter because you love it. Ever give that car you love a name? Do you always get it detailed when you have it washed? Make sure that you change the oil every 3,000 miles (sometimes every 2,500 just to be on the safe side)? Ever have sex with it? Wait. What?

Meet Edward Smith. He's 57 and is currently living in Washington state with his "girlfriend", a white Volkswagen Beetle named "Vanilla". Now, when I say "girlfriend", I'm not talking in the hypothetical sense. I'm talking strictly in the biblical sense. You know, Adam and Eve. Well, if Adam were the dude and Eve were a car and Adam and Eve needed to populate the earth with their human-vehicle hybrid offspring. Yeah, if I were talking about it like that it would be exactly the same. And equally as frightening. (Right about now, the name "Herbie the Love Bug" has just taken on a whole new (and wrong) meaning.)

Mr. Smith has admitted (yes, admitted) to having had sex (yes, sex) with over 1,000 cars (yes, 1,000 cars). He says, "I appreciate beauty and I go a little bit beyond appreciating the beauty of a car only to the point of what I feel is an expression of love." OK, dude, I understand the point you're trying to make, but when you're talking about boinking an AUTOMOBILE made out of METAL, the phrase "only to the point" really downplays the whole thing quite a bit, don't you think?

Now, look, personal preference (and normality) aside, I don't even know how this would be possible! I mean, I get certain aspects of it (you'd never need lube, for starters), but then what? Where exactly is he...? I mean....Where does the...?...What plays the role of her....?......How does it....?....So many questions....So not sure if I want answers to them. All right, I want one question answered. Is this considered to be "safe sex" or does he need a condom? Oh, wait. I was wrong. I don't want to know. Never mind.

Mr. Smith insists that he isn't "sick" and he does not intend to change, nor does he have any desire to change, his ways. "Maybe I'm a little bit off the wall but when I see movies like Herbie and Knight Rider, where cars become lovable, huggable characters it's just wonderful." Again, you have articulated your position clearly. However, you really have to lay off using the term "maybe", as in, "Maybe I'm a little bit off the wall." It's not so much that you're "off the wall" that has others concerned, sir. It's the fact that you're "in the car" (literally!) that is sounding alarms!

Mr. Smith also says that, "I'm a romantic. I write poetry about cars, I sing to them and talk to them just like a girlfriend. I know what's in my heart and I have no desire to change." Very nice sentiments, I'm sure, but Mr. Smith has definitely not had a girlfriend in quite some time, as "singing" and "talking" to them are not as common as he seems to think. And what his heart is into is his business. But again, it's what his business is into that causes people to flee in horror.

I know you will be shocked, just shocked, to learn that Mr. Smith has never been attracted to women OR men. But maybe you'll be surprised (or not) to learn that he hasn't just been attracted to cars. Oh, no, he has a thing for other vehicles of transport as well. In fact, he claims that his "most intense sexual experience was "making love" to the helicopter from 1980s TV hit Airwolf. " Airwolf. Who was in that? Oh, right. Jan-Michael Vincent and Ernest Borgnine. How hot.

I wonder how Mr. Smith would feel if he learned that after Airwolf left the airwaves, his lover, otherwise known as "the helicopter", was sold to a German firm where it flew as an air ambulance. Well, it flew until June 9, 1992 when it crashed during a thunderstorm and killed all three crew members aboard. Yeah, see? Ernest Borgnine is looking a little bit better after that tidbit of trivia now, isn't he?

As far as how all of this developed for Mr. Smith, he says, "It's something that grew as a part of me when I was a kid and I could not shake it. (Perhaps he should have tried shaking it and maybe then he wouldn't need to do it to a car!) I just loved cute cars right from the beginning, but over the years it got stronger once I got into my teenage years and was my first having sexual urges. (Everyone has sexual urges when they're a teenager. But we tend to use the car as a place to have sex, not a someone to have sex with!) When I turned 13 and the famous Corvette Stingray came about, that car was pure sex and just an incredible machine. I wanted it. (It was pure sex and we all wanted a Corvette. But you know what we did instead? We went and had sex with another person!) I didn't fully understand it myself except that I know I'm not hurting anyone and I do not intend to. (A statement of intent that I can honestly say I'm grateful for.) There are moments way out in the middle of nowhere when I see a little car parked and I swear it needs loving. There have been certain cars that attracted me and I would wait until night time, creep up to them and just hug and kiss them. ( Oh, a statement that I can honestly say I could have done without.) As far as women go, they never really interested me much. (Again, I'm sure you're shocked, just shocked, at that revelation.) And I'm not gay. (I'm not sure why he felt the need to throw that in. I associate a lot of things with being gay, but having sex with cars has NEVER been one of them."

OK, so have we learned anything other than to NEVER buy a used lover car from this guy? Is it one of those times when we've learned a bit too much? Yeah, I think so too. I suddenly feel the need to go and tell my truck that, although I love it, I will never, EVER violate it.

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Bye, Bye Byrd-ie

Hey, people in West Virginia! What is the matter with you? What is the dealio with Senator Robert Byrd?! He has been a Senator since 1959 and by all calculations is approximately 148 years old. (148, yes, that is correct.) Why do you people continue to elect this man? He does not appear to be completely cognizant (if at all cognizant) of his surroundings and of the procedures going on around him. He seems to ramble, get lost in his own words, and his latest lapse into a world much different from those of the able minded included shouting out to his late wife Erma while speaking on the floor of the Senate!

I could delve into the whole "Why are you continuing to re-elect a guy who was a Klansman?" angle of this thing, but I'll just go with "It's the South" and leave it at that. This is the freaking US SENATE!! This man, this babbling elderly gentleman, this is who is governing and enacting the rules of this country! WHY?!?

I feel bad for his aide or his assistant or his bellhop or whoever the guy is next to him in the clip below. The poor guy has clearly worked for this man for more than just a week. Or maybe it's the other way around. Maybe he has only worked for him for just a week and that is why he always has this pained, afraid, oh-my-God-what-is-he-doing-now look on his face the entire time. I don't blame him. There has been more than one instance where I was seriously afraid that Senator Byrd might have had a stroke standing up there when talking. He would pause for long periods of time and then just look around with this expression that seemed to say, "Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore." He also gets this look on his face (at least two or three times whenever he's speaking) as if he has just discovered a conspiracy amongst his peers. He just glares and stares as if he's thinking, "Ah-ha! Gotcha!"

Below is a clip that goes for approximately four painful minutes. It is of Senator Methuselah Byrd giving Ted Kennedy's eulogy. Wait. What? Ted Kennedy's not dead? Are you sure? Because the way this guy was going on and on, you'd have thought that he was currently among the dearly departed. Perhaps it was all of the weeping that had me wondering about Senator Kennedy's current mortality status. Yes, "the weeping". The weeping combined with the cries of "Ted! Ted!" also had me thinking maybe Ted had taken a turn for the worse, perhaps when I wasn't paying attention. But no, not so much. It's after calling out to Ted that he calls out to Erma. Who? Erma. You know. His deceased wife. It's toward the end that you get a sense of how difficult it is for Senator Byrd to act in the capacity of which is expected of a US Senator. (That is, in case you hadn't caught on to that somewhere after "Ted!" and somewhere before "Erma".) That's when he leans to his nervous aide and whispers, "Do I do this part now?" :::sigh::::

Look, I'm not bagging on the guy just because he's old. Everyone gets old. Everyone loses a step or two. It's how it works. (I think it's done that way so that death doesn't come as a total shock to us. Otherwise, if we were always all healthy and fine all the time and then one day we wake up dead, we'd be pretty pissed about it. The way it works now, though? When we wake up dead we're probably inclined to think, "Well, I guess I had a pretty good run. Could have been worse.") But continuing to serve as a US Senator is NOT how it works.

Come on, West Virginia people! Use your votes for something productive. Do you really think that everything that is supposed to be getting accomplished is even coming close be being accomplished when there are people like the Senator that YOU continue to elect time and time again, still serving in what is clearly a very limited capacity (at best)? When was the last time he did anything very Senator-y-ish? I don't know either. But it's a waste of a Senate seat if you're asking me.

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Detroit Is Screwed

I'm pretty sure I've been to Michigan. At least once. But I don't think I've ever been to Detroit. Regardless, there are a lot of places I have never been that I know at least a couple of things about. And Detroit is right in that mix. I know a couple of things about Detroit, but the Detroit City Council is another story. I don't know anything about it. I don't know what the issues are that they deal with. I don't know anything about the people that serve as council members. Oh, wait, that last one isn't totally true. I don't know specifics about the Detroit City council members, but I know a couple of things about a couple of them, mainly that they shouldn't be council members.

Look, even though I don't know what Detroit deals with in terms of a functioning as a city, I do know that if the video below is typical of the council meetings there, Detroit is screwed. Here's what we've got: Detroit City Council President Pro Tem Monica Conyers (a President Pro Tem is kind of like being Vice President. Hunting and accidentally shooting your buddy are optional.) got into a shouting match (yes, shouting match) with Council President Ken Cockrel during a special investigative session involving a lawsuit settlement and a police whistle-blower. (I think when they say "whistle-blower" they don't mean the kind that directs traffic and actually has a whistle. I think they mean the other kind of "whistle-blower". Just so we're clear.) Great.

Apparently, Conyers asked the testifying independent attorney if Detroit residents could sue the council because they approved an $8.4-million lawsuit settlement. That's when Councilwoman JoAnn Watson felt the need to cover her ass and said: "They can sue you; I voted no." Conyers, who would seem to be just a joy to work with, told Watson she needed to stop interrupting because it was disrespecting her. She also felt the need to throw in, "We all know how you voted; you don't have to keep repeating it." (Translation: "I'm kind of pissed because I might be screwed here.")

But apparently, the interrupting is only disrespectful if it is someone else who is interrupting Conyers because she had no problem interrupting Council President Ken Cockrel as he was questioning someone. Cockrel then engages in some gavel banging that seems to be rather futile in this instance. (It also seems to be the only situation in which gavel banging is even an option. We should consider giving the gavel some sort of a role in more situations. It'd be different. Possibly even fun. Definitely a bit wacky.) But then it starts to get weird.

I'm not a big fan of the "Who's your daddy?" line or any line involving the term "daddy". (Even Puff Daddy sounds/sounded ridiculous.) So when a Council President Pro Tem tells the Council President "You're not my daddy." any and all respect that one might have had for the individual doing the "daddy" calling is gone (and never to return in most instances). HOW did this woman end up as a Detroit City Council member? How?! (Any answers you might have, please hang onto them until after you've seen the clip below. You'll be just a puzzled, I promise. You'll forget any logical explanation you might have concocted because there isn't any logic to be found anywhere near that Council meeting.)

See what I mean? Sorry, Detroit, but you're screwed. Come on, she called the dude 'Shrek', for cryin' out loud! Who does that? (Aside from her? No one. I hope.) And here's an interesting (and frightening) little fact that I just learned.....Conyers is President Pro Tem for the Detroit City Council, but do you know who is President Pro Tem for the US Senate? That's right. It's West Virginia's favorite 140 year old US Senator, Robert Byrd! Unbelievable. I see a trend. Granted, it's only TWO President Pro Tems who are both just a tad unfit to serve in a capacity that is supposed to benefit the public, but it's an odd (and somewhat disturbing) coincidence at the very least. Where's my gavel?

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It's Below The Belt Friday - Part One

It's not often that I can do multiple posts on the same day that all have the same anatomical locale, that being the nether regions of the human body. First, let's start off with those who would have to be the most clueless "scientists" spanning the globe. (How can I get a gig like this? You know, the kind where you manage to secure funds from somewhere to study something and someday you'll publish what you found out, only to find out that everyone already knew the answer long before you did? Yeah, one of those gigs. Where do I sign up?) (Oh, and I suppose that right about here is where I should insert my "I have nothing against scientists" disclaimer and my "I have a thing for scientists, or at least one scientist" proclaimer. Consider it done. I wish I could consider it useful.)

Now brace yourself. What you read will shock you. (Or not.). In not one, not two, but ten, yes, ten different countries, including the United States, Australia, Germany and Egypt, "experts" (ie, the scientist guys) are saying that finally, finally, they have been able to define (drum roll please)............................life-long premature ejaculation! Ta-DA! Wait. What?

OK, let's just pause for a moment. Um, couldn't they have just broken down the words and figured this out? You know, "premature" "Pre", which means "before". "Mature" which means "complete". Thus "pre" + "mature" = "before" "complete". (Hey! I can be one of these scientist guys. It's not that hard. Yeah, pun probably intended.) Then we have (or you do. Maybe. If you're lucky.) "ejaculation". Let's just say we know how that breaks down, shall we? So, we now have defined "premature" and "ejaculation". Put the definitions together and we have "ejaculation before complete". You can connect the dots and look at the final picture (if that helps you. Some people are very visual.) and have a pretty good idea what that means. Why in the world it took TEN countries full of experts to figure this out is beyond me. But I digress. Onward....

A co-author of this paper, a one Dr. Chris G. McMahon (no relation to Jim) of the University of Sydney (that's in Australia) says that this is the "first ever evidence based definition of lifelong premature ejaculation." Well what in the hell was it before? Speculation? Do you think that a bunch of people were just sitting around surmising what it meant? I don't think so! I'm pretty sure they knew what they were talking about! And really, how much evidence do you need? I'm thinking, once they hear, "That's it?" they have all of evidence they need! I don't get it.

Apparently the "definition" came about after "lengthy critical evaluation" (OK, we're talking about premature ejaculation. How "lengthy" could the "evaluation" possibly have been?) of "evidence presented in more than one hundred studies on the problem that have been published over the past sixty five years." Oh, my God, what a freaking waste of time.

After pouring over 65 years of studies, the researchers all came to a unanimous conclusion (oh, thank God! I was afraid there would be a dissenter, (you know like how only 4 out of 5 dentists will recommend Trident) and then we'd have sixty five MORE years of pointless research.). The conclusion was that the definition must consist of not one, not two, but three factors.

Now, before I reveal the three finalists, think about what they could possibly be. If you do not get at least two out of the three, you should have your penis revoked. (If you're a woman and you don't get at least two out of the three, you either don't care because you're gay or you don't care because you're just glad it's over quickly.) And when I say to think about what those three things could be, I don't mean take sixty five years (like some people do) and get back to me.

OK, here we go.

• Number One: Ejaculation that always or nearly always occurs prior to or within about one minute of vaginal penetration. (Hence the term discussed earlier, "premature.")
  
  
• Number Two: The inability to delay ejaculation on all or nearly all vaginal penetrations. (Hence the term discussed earlier, "premature.")

• Number Three: Negative personal consequences such as distress, bother, frustration and/or the avoidance of sexual intimacy. (Hence the term discussed earlier "premature ejaculation.")

Are you kidding me? Sixty five years and over 100 studies and they come up with what everyone already knows. Brilliant. According to those who wrote all of this up, those being on the Standards Committee of the International Society for Sexual Medicine, the hope from this "study" is that it will aid future diagnosis, treatment and, yes, more research. MORE research? Great. Stay tuned for that and look for the results in the year 2073.

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It's Below The Belt Friday - Part Deux

Like I said, it's not often I can have a theme for the day. And it's probably better that way. I mean, if today covers "below the belt" then I can only assume that the next "theme" day would have to cover "above the belt". Then what? You got it. After "Below The Belt Friday" and "Above The Belt Saturday" I'd be forced to go with "Remove The Belt Sunday". And while I am absolutely NOT opposed to that idea AT ALL (not at all!) I don't really want to post about it. I'm sure you understand.

In case you've been living under a rock or just hiding out under there so you don't have to hear any more about this topic, California's Supreme Court said that it's OK for gay couples to get married. (Release the pigeons.) And while you may know that, you might not know that 41 out of the 50 states (and Puerto Rico I'm assuming. Oh, and Guam. Throw Guam in there too. The gay Guamites? Guamists? Guammers? I don't know.) have statutes that define marriage as "between one man and one woman". 27 of those states felt so strongly about it that they made sure to put that definition in their constitutions. Nice.

Since about 1985, polls have been done to grasp (Pun might be intended later on. Not sure about now, though.) how the public feels about gay marriage. According to the fine folks over there at Pollster.com, in 1985 about 16 percent were OK with it and around 76 percent were against it. (About 8 percent didn't know how they felt about it and asked the phone pollster what he was wearing.) Fast forward to last week and the California Supreme Court decision and we're down to about 55 percent feeling that those who are gay and want to be married are going straight to hell (otherwise known as "opposed") and up to 40 percent who think the other 55 percent are whacked (otherwise known as "in favor of"). Only five percent had no idea what in the hell to say and wanted details about "the gays". (And as far as I know, none were given.)

So in general, the opposition to gay marriage declined and the acceptance of gay marriage increased. There was a slight reversal there right before 2005, but then it perked right up again and continued along the trend that it had been on. So we had the opponents decrease by 21 percent and the proponents increase by 24 percent, with three of those percent defecting over from the extremely wishy-washy camp of "I don't know". That's about a percentage point per year from 1985 until now. Not bad. Could be better, but it could be worse as well. I've just learned to take what I can get. If it's going to be one percent per year, so be it. I wish it were more, but it could be nothing, so I'll take it.

And while all of this is semi-interesting and possibly fascinating (I realize I could be stretching it there), what is definitely amusing is the graph of this trend. See, it seems to me that whenever the topic of "gay" or "homosexuality" comes up, all that is subliminally focused on is the whole sex aspect of it. Well, that's mostly true when speaking about those who are opposed to it. For those who are not opposed to it and moreso for those who are gay, the sex aspect of it, while extremely pleasant (and it was!), isn't the main focus (all the time). But it's not like the topic never comes up. It might not be as frequently as some would like, but it does occur.

What's my point? Glad you asked. Below is the graph which depicts the trends how people responded to polls asking them if they are opposed to or in support of gay marriage. Behold! The Penis Graph!

You can click on the image above if you wish to enlarge the penis graph and see the penis graph in closer detail. Oh, the irony.

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BFD SOS!

Over across the pond there in Cornwall (that's in England) the Newquay Coast Guard Rescue Team was called in to rescue Arnold after he became stranded down on a beach and was unable to walk back up the 130 stairs to the cliff top above, and just as the tide was starting to come in as well. It took six people to get Arnold off of the beach and into a lifeboat so that they could go around the coast to get him back on land. It took them a while to pull this rescue off. Oh, did I mention that Arnold is a 210 pound St. Bernard? I didn't? He is. Behold!

OK, now that is a BFD (Big Fat Dog) if I've ever seen one. Here's the scoop. According to our friends over there at the Daily Mail, Arnold and his owner, walked down the 130 steps to Whipsiderry Beach below this big cliff (it's in the photo below if you can't picture it). That went just fine. But when it came time to go back UP the steps, that was problematic for Arnold. As if being 210 pounds isn't enough of a burden, the BFD is apparently rather old and just didn't have it in him to lug his 210 pounds up 130 stairs. So he didn't. He sat down and wouldn't move.

Arnold's owner said that she knew that once he got down those stairs that he wouldn't be going back up them. (And yet, oddly enough, even with that knowledge she continued to take the dog down to the beach. Interesting.) And when you've got a BFD on a beach in a cove with the tide coming in, well, if the dog doesn't get out of there, it's not going to end well. Oh, and Arnold also is a BFD who does not like getting his feet wet. (You know, for a St. Bernard, a breed that is typically thought of as a brave rescue dog, Arnold sure is somewhat of a wussy. A dog who doesn't like to get his feet wet. WTF is up with that?)

Members of the rescue team gave Arnold a snack (a questionable move for a dog that already weighs 210 pounds, but I guess that in the interest of getting him out of there, I can see where it might have been necessary) and while he busied himself with that, they got a net around him and then SIX of them carried him to a lifeboat. I'm surprised it wasn't a lifebarge.

The rescue workers were concerned that he wouldn't fit in the lifeboat, but apparently he did. (My concern wouldn't have been so much that he wouldn't fit in the boat. No, my concern would have been whether or not a BFD-laden boat would float at all. That would have been MY concern.) But not only did the BFD fit, the boat stayed afloat and he was boated around the coast where the rescue crew carried him up the road because he was exhausted. (Exhausted? Exhausted from what? He's been lying on a beach for hours, someone gave him a snack, they carried him in a net to a boat, then he boated to shore. What in the heck is there for him to be exhausted from? He just sat there the entire time!) The rescue crew was happy to help out and said that Arnold "was fine, just very old." And pretty smart too, I have the feeling.

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His MySpace With Her Naked Photos

People amaze me. And that's not necessarily a good thing. Like this Alex Phillips guy. He's 17 and he lives in Wisconsin. (No, not the South. I was a little surprised too after I heard this story). Apparently, Alex decided it would be a good idea to put some photos of his 16-year old ex-girlfriend on his MySpace page. He thought it would be an even better idea if the photos were of his ex-girlfriend naked. You probably should have known something was up when you got to the part about the "ex-girlfriend". Wouldn't you have to pretty much assume that they wouldn't be overly flattering pictures? Well, sure, but even still, you'd certainly hope they weren't nude pictures (because nude and unflattering? Talk about kicking someone when they're down.).

I shall pause my commentary for a moment to issue a public service message. Or plea. Take it however you want. I don't care who you are and I don't care how old you are, do yourself a favor and do not, repeat, DO NOT let anyone take pictures of you when you are naked. Ever. I don't care how hot you are (well, I DO. Especially if you're really hot. But I digress.), I don't care how much you "love" the other person, I don't care how much the other person "loves" you, DON'T DO IT. Have you ever heard of the naked picture scenario turning out well? No, of course not. That's because it doesn't. If you're going to let someone take pictures of you naked, you might as well just reserve a domain name on the Internet for them right now because that's where they're going to end up. Now, where was I?

Oh, yeah, the asshat in Wisconsin. So, according to the fine folks over yonder at The Smoking Gun (and the police reports) a police officer contacted Phillips about the pictures and warned him that he could end up going to jail for publishing the photos of the girl because she was a minor. And Phillips responded to that sobering fact by telling the investigator, "F**k that, I am keeping them up." Wait. What? Am I to assume that hilarity did not ensue?

What in the hell is wrong with this dude? Aside from the extremely public posting of the ex-girlfriend's nakedness for the entire freaking world to see (and download for use as wallpaper on their laptop if they should so desire), a police officer explains to him, not just that he could "get in trouble", but the officer spells it out to him that he could "go to JAIL". And I'd have to say that, overall, jail is not someplace that you would want to be. Ever. But not only does the possibility of jail loom there for him, but he includes "f**k" in his refusal to the officer who is telling him about all of the jail. Does this guy have some sort of brain damage? Is he new to this planet? I'm going to go with either brain damage or extremely full of himself. Oh, wait. It just occurred to me that it's probably a little (or a lot) of both.

Now, while you and I are not going to be surprised by what happened next, I'm going to assume that Alex was surprised. He was arrested (shocking, I know) and, along with the one count of child porn, he was also charged with sexual exploitation of a child and defamation. (None of those sound like anything you even want to THINK about being charged with.) Of course you know that after he was arrested he had an explanation. Naturally. What was it? Oh, well, his explanation was that he did it "because he was venting." OK, that excuse is so lame it almost doesn't warrant a response, but I'll try. Venting? OK, I know that "venting" is healthy for the human psyche to do. It's not good to keep things all inside. It is good to let them out. But I have yet to learn of the "Post nude pictures of my ex-girlfriend on a MySpace page" method of therapy. I remember the good old days when "venting" consisted of calling up one of your buddies and bitching about whatever it was you were "venting" about (usually for longer than your buddy wanted to listen to). And while I know that things do change and that they need to change and that people need to evolve, I hardly see this as progress.

And apparently as part of his self-contrived "venting" process, it also included captioning the photos that he posted. Let's just say that the captions were not "G" Rated. (I thought about including the text, but it's in the police reports that I have provided below, so I think I'll leave it at that. It's rather foul.) But see, he was "venting" and he "didn't mean to harm her." He also came to the ingenious conclusion (after he was arrested, of course) that he "probably shouldn't have done that." Do you think?

I can think of no more appropriate ending for this than to quote the great Bugs Bunny when he said, "What a maroon."

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It's All In The South

The other day, I was bagging on the South. Specifically, Arkansas. And while I hold to my assessment of the South in general, I probably shouldn't have used Arkansas for the overall example to typify the general behavior of the southern denizens of this country. Because with the Arkansas situation, there was just the one situation. Granted, everything about it screamed, "It's in the SOUTH!" (It also screamed, "ALCOHOL may be involved!" but that's almost always the case when your 12-year old drinks your beer, steals your truck and crashes it at 2:30 in the morning. Almost always.) But I really like it when there's more than one example given to exemplify a point. So, welcome to Florida.

Now, you're getting quite the bonus here. I could, easily, stretch this out into at least five different posts. But they're all going to be crammed into this one post to really illustrate the Southern goodness of the US. These were the "Most Popular" stories in the Northwest Florida Daily News on Monday:

• Couple steal beef jerky, threaten witnesses


• Women yell profanities at Spring Fling


• Man claims he was 'only talking' in park'


• Woman robbed at her home

Now really, that seems like plenty. But I'm going to elaborate because, well, it's funny. First up, The Beef Jerky Duo. So, Leigh Stephen Cann Jr., age 22, stole three packages of beef jerky from a convenience store. His wife, Shannon Kelly, age 26, was with him at the time. After stealing the chewy, dried meat, he threatened the witnesses that were in the parking lot. They, naturally, fled. He, unnaturally, chased them down--all the way to the police station where this ingenious escapade was topped off when he punched through a car's window and was yelling at the occupant of the vehicle while his lovely, lovely wife began punching the witness. When confronted by a deputy, Cann Jr. proclaimed, "I tried to pay for the beef jerky, but the (insert expletive of your choice here) clerk wouldn't take my money." Well, OK then. Of course that really doesn't explain the chasing of non-clerks, nor does it explain any of the punching and yelling. (It certainly doesn't excuse it, for cryin' out loud.) Oh, and when his wife was being arrested, she hit the officer. Shocking, I know! Then she apologized. After that she begged to not be taken to jail. Welcome to Florida. Next!

In Fort Walton Beach, during the St. Mary's Spring Fling, two tables full of women were screaming obscenities at each other and the incident required police intervention. According to the police report, one woman was screaming obscenities at another woman on the phone with "Robert". Naturally, she refused to stop yelling even when asked to do so by the officers (because she simply must keep swearing!). That's when a different woman hurled herself at the phone woman. She was, surprise, screaming more obscenities during her hurl. Now, how this all came to be was that one of the women was dating "Robert" (presumably the woman on the phone with "Robert"). One of the other women was "Robert's" soon to be ex-wife. She and the gaggle of shrews had come to the Spring Fling because they knew that the woman dating "Robert" would be there and they wanted to confront her. Naturally, a Spring Fling in what sounds like it could be a church is a completely appropriate place to confront someone who is dating the person that you're divorcing. Sure it is. Welcome to Florida! Florida's in the South.

When an Okaloosa County Sheriff's deputy saw a truck at a park after the park was closed, he approached the truck and found a 19 year old male and his female companion. The guy told the cop that they were only talking. Then he lit a cigar. (Interesting behavior for a 19 year old. I wonder why he was smoking a cigar? Could it be so the truck would smell like cigar and not like something else? Let's find out!) They must have been "talking" in between all of the pot smoking, because the deputy saw a joint and some rolling papers just lying on the floor on the passenger's side in plain sight. Brilliant. Then the guy told the cop that he had marijuana in the back. Brilliant. He was then arrested for possession. They don't call it 'dope' for nothing. Welcome to Florida. It's really southern!

And finally, back in Fort Walton Beach, a bunch of guys who were wearing ski masks and who were also armed, kicked in the back door of a woman’s home around noon, stole her money and jewelry and then left in her car. According to the Sheriff's office, “She said there were several men, so we’re looking at probably at least three. One of them had a shotgun.” The vehicle, a 1994 Crown Victoria (you can't be surprised by the type of vehicle at this point, can you?) was recovered less than an hour later. Welcome to Florida. You just can't get any more South than this!

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.336 in Sweden in English

Do you know what the legal blood-alcohol limit is in Sweden? Here in the US, for the majority of the states, the BAC is .08 percent. (No one really knows what that means and no one really cares what that means unless they've been pulled over and are blowing into a plastic tube) But in Sweden? According to The Local, Sweden's News In English, the legal BAC (in Swedish or English) is .02 percent. .02?? My BAC is .02 if I smell alcohol. Are you kidding me? .02? Wow. They run a tight ship, those Swedes.

But just because they run a tight ship, doesn't mean that some of the crew can go overboard once in a while. And one of them did. Apparently, a 22 year old guy from Varberg (that's in western Sweden) was arrested for drunk driving after slamming into a wall. I'm sure he must have reeked of alcohol, which, aside from the wall slamming, must have prompted the police to have him blow into the Swedish plastic tube. And when he did, jackpot! He set the record for the most intoxicated individual in Sweden's history with a BAC of (better sit down) .336 percent.

.336 percent?! That is 16.8 TIMES the legal limit of .02 in Sweden (whether you're Swedish OR English)! How was he even conscious, let alone driving around?! (Well, until that wall got in his way.). Here's the best part: The officers were lenient when they read the results and went with the lower end of the margin for error. So having one third of your blood level composed of alcohol was a conservative estimate in this case. Holy canoli.

And the guy is only 22! That's not going to give him much to aim for later on in life, having already reached this milestone so soon. The guy who had previously held this dubious distinction was a 21-year old who had a BAC of around .294 percent. (Is that all? Amateur.) So the 22-year old easily beat the 21-year old by at least 10 percent? Wow.

According to Professor Wayne Jones, a professor in experimental alcohol research somewhere over there in Sweden, "Several years of high alcohol consumption can give an individual an increased tolerance for higher levels of alcohol. But to only be 22-years-old and have a blood-alcohol level near .36 percent while driving appears to be exceptional." At the very least.

The dude must be like Keith Richards. I mean, show me one person who is not totally amazed that Keith Richards is even vertical and coherent these days, not to mention ALIVE. Sure, he fell out of that coconut tree last year, but something like that was long overdue for Keith. The kid must have the same kind of super tolerance levels (which should have basically embalmed him at this point.).

If that's the case, he might need to rely on that "super tolerance" soon, as he has recently been indicted.

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