In today’s world, everyone needs to do their part for energy conservation. And that’s why local serial killer Clifton Q. Haynes, AKA the Whole Grains Strangler, recently instituted a self imposed “100 Mile Rule,” whereby he will not stalk, troll, lure, abduct or kill any victim located more than 100 miles outside his base of operations. The Whole Grains Strangler thus far has claimed seven victims, all of whom were shoppers who had refused to switch to reusable bags or who had continued to purchase toxic household products when environmentally friendly alternatives work just as well and only cost a little more.
Mr. Haynes, a quiet, unremarkable man who keeps to himself and pays his rent on time, explained his innovative approach to serial murder in a note composed from cut-out newspaper and magazine headlines. The note, which runs 27 pages and was delivered to this news organization along with the perfectly preserved spleen of his latest victim, reads in part: “2 ManY oTHeR KiLLeRs siMplY DO noT cARe aBOUt moTHEr eaRTH buT ThaT wILl cHanGe tHrU mE. i aM chOseN veSSel tO maKE eARth neW aGain. pLeAse rEcycLe - oR i shaLL FLaY yOUr fLEsH! bEing A soCiopAtH is NOT aN eXcusE!!!”
In response to this story, a spokesperson for the Earth Environmental Fund, an environmental advocacy group based in Washington DC, issued the following statement, “While we deplore and strongly condemn Mr. Hanyes’s compulsive need to sadistically torture and ritualistically murder innocent people, we applaud his attempt to do so in a more environmentally benevolent manner.”
The question is, how does one whittle down the worst moments of this administration to just ten? After all, this is the team that put the sass in disaster, the lamb in calamity, the ass in fiasco. To give you an idea of the enormity of this undertaking, here is Brad’s list of honorable mentions — moments that didn’t make the list:
warrantless wiretapping; Valerie Plame; Scooter Libby’s sentence commuted; Bush believes Rafael Palmeiro is innocent; soldiers face neglect at Walter Reed; signing statements; the Kyoto treaty ripped up; loyalty oaths; the fake turkey; a staged teleconference with troops, staged FEMA press conference, extraordinary rendition, support for junk science; endorsement of neo-creationist “intelligent design”; inaction against global warming; record oil prices; record budget deficits; record trade deficits; record number of Americans without health insurance; two recessions; no-bid contracts; bin Laden still at large; the Federal Marriage Amendment; stem cell research vetoed; waterboarding ban vetoed; “Last throes”; “Old Europe”; “It’s hard work”; “Bring it on”; “Yo, Blair!”; “I’m the decider”; “I’m the commander guy”; “I’m a war president”; “This is the guy who tried to kill my dad”; “So?”; “Let the Eagle Soar“; John Bolton; Kenny Boy; Harriet Miers; John Roberts; Sam Alito; Blair talks Bush out of bombing al-Jazeera; Cheney shoots some guy in the face; the Military Commissions Act; Jose Padilla arrested and held without charge or access to counsel; endless tax cuts for the rich; let’s waste a shitload of money by sending people to Mars and let’s hire some Heritage Foundation staffers to rebuild Iraq.
Nerve.com and the IFC have teamed up to put together their list of the 50 Worst Sex Scenes in Cinema history. First of all, it’s a little presumptuous of these writers to think they’ve witnessed the worst sex scenes of all time when I don’t recall any of them being my date for prom. The Worst list was compiled as a complement to their recent feature documenting the 50 Greatest Sex Scenes in Cinema history, which, again, comes off as presumptuous since I don’t recall any of these writers being with me right now as i tpyee tese wirds . . . .
(short musical interlude)
But back to the lists.
I’m sure the writers logged many long, hard hours of ‘research’ putting these lists together, so lets mosey on over and see what they’ve managed to come up with.
First the Best-Ofs. It’s tough to argue with a lot of the choices: A History of Violence (really, either scene would have sufficed; they chose staircase over cheerleader outfit); Unfaithful (bathroom stall); Clooney and Lopez in Out of Sight; Keitel and Hunter in The Piano; the two acrobatic dolls from Team America. Likewise, much of the Worst-Of list is fairly obvious: some ridiculous coupling-on-soft-furs abomination from Alexander; the rave scene from Matrix Reloaded; the entire second half of Eyes Wide Shut (the least sexy sexy movie I’ve ever seen, though I didn’t mind watching Nicole Kidman take a leak); and I’ll just take their word on Gigli. As for Teeth, last year’s horror flick about a girl with vagina dentata, you’d be pretty safe to just go ahead and include the entire film.
But internet lists, like the laws of physics or metric conversion charts, are made to be endlessly argued over, and, sure enough, I’ve got a bone or two to pick with the choices here. First of all, on the Worst-Ofs list, where in the hell is In the Realm of the Senses? I saw that thing in college and I’m still getting over it. And another thing. Why aren’t Anakin and Padme nestled comfortably among the Worst-Ofs where they so obviously belong? Okay, so there never was a proper sex scene between them (thank god for small favors), but there were ‘love scenes,’ and they remain lo these long years later among the most excruciating ever committed to celluloid. The other shortcoming of the Worst-Of list is that it seems to be a combination of scenes that are embarrassing (which belong on the list) and scenes that are uncomfortable or disturbing (which do not). The strangest entry on the Worst-Of list surely must be Hale Berry/Billy Bob Thorton from Monster’s Ball. Worst? Really? It’s intense, and it sure is heart-breaking, but worst? I don’t think so.
You know that condescending, socially awkward dude in your office? The one you need to go to whenever your computer crashes or freezes or won’t boot or keeps giving you error messages no matter how many times you hit Ctrl-Alt-Del? The one who’s always listening to They Might Be Giants or The Mars Volta and whose desk photos are of Boba Fett and whose jokes (if they even are jokes) you never get?
You know, the IT guy (or IT gal, in certain rare cases).
Would you like to know what he finds funny (other than those Gary Larson cartoons all over his cubicle walls)? Check out the video posted below.
You’ve got to take my word on this. As incomprehensible and borderline retarded as this short film may appear to quote unquote normal folks, it is pure comedy gold to IT people (and programmers, a subspecies), for whom it is packed to the rafters with in-jokes, sly nods, shout-outs, physical humor, etc. To these types, this thing is a regular laff riot.
Just check out this sample dialogue:
Sales guy: Hey, are you here in building 3?
Web dude: Yeah, I’m in building 3.
Sales guy: Well, why do I have to call an outside number to get to your desk?
Web dude: Look, I don’t want to get into an IP telephony conversation with you right now.
Sales guy: UP telephony? I pee urine! Ha! He totally fell for that one.
Web dude: That’s a good one.
So, to my IT friends, enjoy. For the rest of you, it actually gets pretty funny at around the 7:00 mark.
Internet fame is mine! McSweeney’s published my story! I always knew those upstart McSweeney kids with their wacky ‘Internet Tendencies’ had an eye for the talent. Click here to read it in all of its irreverent glory.
To the tune of
“Life Is a Highway”
by Tom Cochrane.
Happy Saturday, everyone! I’m so glad you’re here!
Remember, you are here for you. Not for me, not for the person across the bargaining table, not for anyone else in the conference room.
This time is for you and you alone!
We’ll begin with some simple negotiations to warm up our bargaining muscles.
Life is a highway, and every highway has a road map. So let’s all take out our road maps.
Austin’s Black Angels are currently on tour, and, on Sunday, mr. and mrs. kamper will embark in our motorcar to the distant city of Boston, Commonwealth of Massachusetts to enjoy a live revue from this pop combo. We are frightfully excited to finally experience for ourselves this new thing the kids today are calling the ‘rock and roll.’ It’s been a long while indeed since the two of us ‘cut the rug’ at one of these vaudevillian cabarets, I do so hope we won’t stick out amongst the ruffians and scallawags known to frequent such speakeasies. I presume that a frock coat with silk-faced lapels, waistcoat, Cashmere striped trousers, ascot, and spats, of course accessorised with a top hat, boutonniere, and white gloves, would be appropriate for such an engagement?
Some months ago, we expressed our profound admiration for the Black Angels by bestowing upon them our highest honor: their very own edition of the Happy Valley Hoedown.
President Bush met today with President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo of the Philippines.
What did he have to say? Well, here is his opening statement, straight from the White House’s own transcript.
PRESIDENT BUSH: Madam President, it is a pleasure to welcome you back to the Oval Office. We have just had a very constructive dialogue. First, I want to tell you how proud I am to be the President of a nation that — in which there’s a lot of Philippine-Americans. They love America and they love their heritage. And I reminded the President that I am reminded of the great talent of the — of our Philippine-Americans when I eat dinner at the White House. (Laughter.)
PRESIDENT ARROYO: Yes.
PRESIDENT BUSH: And the chef is a great person and a really good cook, by the way, Madam President.
PRESIDENT ARROYO: Thank you.
Pure class, this guy. A man of the people. And such a smoov operator! But we all knew he had a special touch with the ladies.
Ah, the lowly, misunderstood semicolon. The “Son of Sam” killer David Berkowitz loved them; Edgar Allen Poe and Kurt Vonnegut hated them (Vonnegut: “All [semicolons] do is show that you’ve been to college.”). And now Slate tells us they are dying out, a victim of the, um, the telegraph machine — okay, so it’s actually a pretty slow death, but it’s still a loss to the language.
True, some won’t miss them:
Semicolons do have some genuine shortcomings; Slate’s founding editor, Michael Kinsley, once noted to the Financial Times that “[t]he most common abuse of the semicolon, at least in journalism, is to imply a relationship between two statements without having to make clear what that relationship is.” All journalists can cop to this: The semicolon allows woozy clauses to lean on each other like drunks for support.
It’s a shame, really; as I, for one, believe that the semicolon; when used properly; and sparingly; can be one of the subtlest; and most effective; tools in the writer’s toolbox.
