Ill...Golf...FA Cup Final

Under the weather a bit, so this post will have to be short, I'm afraid.

Played golf today and tied Stew (the triple-bogey on the 18th did not help.) Stew was hitting his four wood like it had a stick of dynamite attacked to the club face, 250 yards a pop. At least one shot must have gone 270. A four-wood. Are you paying attention Mr. Woods?

Finally, I hearby declare that anyone who tells me the score of the FA Cup Final today will be egregiously humiliated in this space. I couldn't afford the pay per view this week ($25 - I might as well have flown to Cardiff) so I'll be watching the replay on Wednesday night. You have been warned!

Bloody Nazis!

Dr. Willima Lippy, an otologist from Ohio, has discovered that the long held belief that there is a correlation between pregnancy and hearing loss in women is false. This belief, common in the medical community, has been around for 66 years. Who then is responsible for this falsehood that has dissuaded some women from having additional children that they and their spouses otherwise would have desired?

Nazis.

"I fully expect to find out that the relationship between eating massive quantities of bacon and heart attacks was also a Nazi plot to promote the overseas sales of knockwurst, the heartless bastards.

Update: Communists have been discovered to be the source of the widespread belief that venereal disease can be contracted from toilet seats. It's a pity the inventor of the bidet fell for this.

Saddam v. The Sun

It might go something like this...

The scene is a courtroom in the Old Bailey, barristers in black robes and white wigs and clerks of the court rush around as the judge enters.

Clerk: All rise, the Honorable Mr. Justice Rusty Nails presiding.

Judge: Please be seated. Let us continue with the testimony of Saddam Hussein. Mr. Livingston you may continue your questioning.

Livington: Yes, m'lud. Now Mr. Hussein, please tell the court what happened to you.

Saddam: Well, I was in my cell ironing my clothes and getting ready to write thank you notes to the guards when pictures were taken of me in my skivvies.

Judge: I'm sorry but I'm not familiar with that terminology.

Livingston: M'lud, he is making reference to his pants.

Judge: His pants?

Livingston: Yes m'lud, his underpants.

Judge: Oh, very good. Briefs?

Livingston: Do you need a copy?

Judge: What?

Livingston: Of the briefs, m'lud?

Judge: Certainly NOT! Why would I want this man's pants?

Livingston: Sorry, m'lud, I thought you were refering to the case briefs. Anyway, Mr. Hussein you were minding your own business, preparing to bake cookies, make corsages for the female guards, and I believe you said writing thank you notes when your privacy was invaded by Mr. Donald Rumsfeld who took several unappealing pictures of you which he then sold to The Sun.

Saddam: That is right, only you forgot the chocolate truffles I was making for General Sanchez.

Defense Counsel: Objection m'lud, it is obvious that Mr. Hussein is trying to gain sympathy from the court.

Judge: Overruled, I like a good chocolate truffle myself.

Livingston: Thank you, m'lud. It is our contention that The Sun used the pictures in question for the purposes of libel and indeed criminal libel since no change had been made in Iraq to the law that slander or libel against President Hussein was a crime.

Defense Counsel: Objection m'lud, we ask that the case be thrown out since it is frivolous and based on outdated law from a regime that killed millions of its own people and is now facing criminal proceedings that make these pale in comparison.

Judge: Overruled, please barrister refrain from citing other cases that have not been proven. This is serious business, a man should not have to fear doing his laundry in his whitey tighties and then seeing his kibble and bits splattered across the pages of a tabloid. Court is adjourned for the day, tomorrow the defence can make its case.

[Flash forward wavy lines begin]

Front cover of The Sun, June 25, 2007

Saddam Well Hung
Wins Skivvy Case v. The Sun

(above a picture of Saddam swinging from the gallows)

It's a real dessert out there...

Since returning to reality I have been aghast at some of the ways people treat each other in our great, big lovable world. This story shows that racism and/or caste-ism is still alive and well in India. Now, not knowing my Dalits from my Yadavs I can't speak of the caste system but I think I remember a Geraldo Rivera documentary on the stereotyping and racism directed at dessert preparers in our own country.

Geraldo Reports: A Hollow Joy at The Hollow Tree

(Geraldo voice over as we see past Keebler commercials play)
For years they have slaved away creating delicious treats for the masses. Some say it's Elfin Magic, some say it's mystical gobbledygook dressed in chocolate by these tiny impresarios of the snack cracker, the Keebler Elves. Now, a new problem for these diminutive pastry gurus as stores across the country have taken their product off the shelves. We talked to Reed Dikulous, a grocery store owner in Hickory Stick, NC.

Geraldo: Why are people worried about these cookies and crackers?

Reed: Y'all callin' me a cracker?

Geraldo: No, I'm asking why these products have been removed from your shelves.

Reed: Hey, those guys are tiny. Who knows what they're a' doin' in that tree. I don't think there are USDA inspectors small enough to get in there. They could be puttin' some weird stuff in my E.L. Fudges.

Geraldo: We next went to the man himself, Ernie Keebler the chairman, CEO, and High King of the Hollow Tree.

Geraldo: Ernie, can you explain the ban on your goods in some areas.

Ernie: Well Geraldo, it's racism plain and simple. Our products are made under strict sanitary and nutritional guidelines. Now, I will admit in the early seventies we did experiment with some additives that were meant to expand the mind but we gave up on that when Fast Eddie drove his cart off the Grand Canyon.

Geraldo: Tell me about Elfin Magic, what are in those wands you use? Magic dust?

Ernie: Geraldo if I told you that I would have to kill you. Just kidding. Elfin Magic is nothing more than our way of mass production. I mean look at the size of our tree. You try and produce 200 million cookies and crackers in something that size. As far as the dust is concerned it is not dangerous and as long as it is combined with eye of newt and bladder of rat it is not hallucinogenic.

Geraldo: Bladder of rat?

Ernie: Don't worry, it tastes like chicken... as long as it's mixed with goat feces and angleworms. Gotcha again Geraldo, it really does taste like chicken.

Geraldo: What do you want to say to those in our audience who biased against you?

Ernie: Look into your hearts and see that we're just a group of cookie making elves living in a tiny magical tree. Are we so much different from you? Do we not all bleed yellow?

Geraldo: Do you think it will work?

Ernie: If it doesn't we'll just turn you all into snails.

Geraldo: I know, I know. Just kidding again.

Ernie: No, I'm serious about that one.

Geraldo (now nervously eyeing Ernie): Well, thank you. Next week on Geraldo, "Sorry Charlie: Singing a Different Tuna". Good night.

No more Star Wars...

This weekend marks the release of the last film of the Star Wars series. The sixth film is called Star Wars Part 3: Revenge of the Sith and is about Annakin Skywalker's disturbing transformation into a lisping Cindy Brady, and also George Lucas' inability to count.

Lucas claimed at the Cannes Film Festival that his last entry in the series was designed to be implicitly critical of the Bush Administration, and he underscored that point by casting filmmaker Michael Moore as Jabba the Hut. (Although he added that he did so with the budget in mind as well. "Michael needed very little makeup and almost no prosthetics, besides the tongue, for the role," Lucas confessed.) He also insisted that Darth Vader wear a cowboy hat and constantly refer to Obi-Wan Kenobi as "Osama Bin Kenobi" and "Oblee Dan Kenshogi".

Critics have given the film mixed reviews, complimenting its special effects and cinematography by writing reviews containing several instances of the word "OOOOOh", while pointing out that the acting was only marginally better than William Shatner's Priceline commericals, and only thanks to Yoda's dramatic love scene with Anakin.

Lucas has said he will make no more films in the series, despite the fact that he originally stated the story would take nine films to tell, proving once again that the man's maths are a pathetic shambles. There is apparently no truth to the rumour that he was seen leaving France with a screenplay tucked under his arm and entitled Star Wars 11: Jar-Jar Lashes Out!

AAAAAdrian!!!!

The first hurricane of the North American season is bearing down on Central America. What brilliant name did the National Weather Service bestow upon this massive, unpredictable storm?

Adrian.

That's a bit like giving your Rottweiler the name "Francis".

I suppose, however, that somewhere Sylvester Stallone is standing on a Guatemalan beach shouting the name at the top of his lungs.

I have it on good authority that, should we be so unfortunate this year as to get into the "P"s, that particular hurricane will be named Pauley.

I can see why Hitchcock didn't call it The Grackles

Somewhere, Alfred Hitchcock is quietly chortling to himself.

Apparently, passerby at the Houston, Texas - County Administration Building are being attacked by birds. While that statement quite possibly generates fearful visions of massive flocks of avian raptors descending on pedestrians like grey clouds of locusts upon a wheat field, in this case, Houston has been disrupted by only a few industriously homicidal birds... in one tree. I say "homicidal" although, thankfully, they've not killed anyone yet. Of course a small group of birds really wouldn't be able to kill a person, unless they managed to frighten them into traffic or could do the Vulcan death grip with their tiny claw-like feet.

Since there's no such thing as a Vulcan Death Grip, we're left with Houston rush-hour traffic. As that generally consists of endless gridlock, the birds would have to frighten someone into running full-speed, tripping on the curb, and falling under the wheels of a vehicle, just as it lurches 2 feet forward to make sure that Mercedes in the next lane doesn't cut into their path. I really don't think these birds are that calculated. The term "bird-brain" isn't an insult for nothing, you know.

The birds themselves are Grackles. I have no idea what a grackle looks like or how dangerous it could be. Apparently they are fairly large blackbirds with wingspans up to two feet. Quite frankly, I don't fancy myself being particularly frightened of a crow-esque feather-duster whose name vaguely resembles the sound that Rice Krispies make.

"They were just going crazy," said constable Wilbert Jue. "They were attacking everybody that walked by."

I have a novel solution, Wilbert. Shotgun blasts to the tree. The surviving birds will grackle their way to San Antonio after that. I always think that Hitchcock's film would have turned out much differently if Tippi Hedren and Suzanne Pleshette had simply whipped out submachine guns to deal with all those birds on the jungle gym.

Potter, Harry Potter...

The latest Harry Potter book's due out in July. Across the world millions of eager readers, anticipating J.K. Rowling's latest tome, are frantically pacing around their rooms, thumbing through threadbare copies of her earlier books, writing and reading fan fiction as fast as their weary fingers can word-process, and wondering just how the hell long it will take July to roll around before they lose their minds completely.

Until then, here's a little edition of the Boy Who Lived and Made His Creator the Richest Woman in All of Britain...via the worldview of the Spike Channel's favorite secret agent.

**********

(Scene: The mountains of Afghanistan, present day. Taliban forces are gathering. Bearded, black-garbed men are polishing guns. Inside a tent, Osama Bin Laden is perfecting his Carol Channing disguise in an attempt to evade American and Afghani forces. All is not what it seems though. One of the black-robed fighters slips in behind Bin Laden's tent. He is wearing glasses and has a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. He is the famed magical agent 007, Harry Potter.)

Agent 007: (whispered) Flatulatus Inflamare'!

(The tent with Bin Laden in it catches on fire. He runs out screaming, wearing a white chiffon dress and tiara.)

Agent 007: (speaking into what appears to be a mirror) General Hagrid, Send in the airstrike!

(A large dragon swoops out of the sky, stomping repeatedly on Bin Laden, until there is nothing left of him but a red and white chiffon stain on the ground. The dragon then breathes fire on the stain until is smolders like a spent charcoal after a barbecue. Agent 007 runs across the camp as Taliban fighters race around in panic, alternately being eaten and breathed on by the fiery beast. As he hurtles over smoldering radicals, he spies a fighter waving a broomstick around as if to ward off the dragon. In a stunning display of gymnastic ability, Agent 007 leaps onto a moving jeep, strangles its driver, whilst steering him towards the broom wielding terrorist, leaps off the jeep, does a flip in midair, snatching the broom, landing on it, and soaring off into the sky, just as the jeep hits the Talibani, at the precise moment the dragon parbroils the lot.)

Agent 007 (flying away): He didn't do a very good job of keeping his cool... (He smirks, almost imperceptibly)

(Cut to, traditional loud James Bond chords and guitar riff by Guy Hamilton. As they play, we aee through a spyglass/gunsight as 007 walks into view. Just as it seems he is about to be gunned down, he turns, points a magic wand, and shouts "Rigor Mortis!" at the camera. The gunsight tips backwards and points straight up to a large ceiling that appears to have the night sky painted over it. Fade to...)

(The offices of MI6 [Magical Intelligence, Sixth Years]. Harry walks into the secretary's office, and throws his cloak across the room onto a waiting cloakrack. Miss MoneyGinny is sitting at her desk typing, her bright red mane of hair framing her smiling face.)

MoneyGinny: D is waiting for you Harry. I'm afraid he's got serious business on his mind.

Agent 007: As usual. (He smiles at MoneyGinny, which simultaneously makes her go weak at the knees and swoon at the same time. She gurgles ever so pleasantly. 007 walks through the door into the office of D.)

(D is pacing back and forth across the office. Without looking up, he acknowledges 007's entrance.)

D: Well, I see you were unable to perform a simple assassination, without setting fire to half of Afghanistan. President Karzai is not pleased.

Agent 007: Hamid? He'll get over it. I sent him a box of the finest Cavendish blended pipe tobacco available in Europe. He'll smoke away his troubles in no time.

D: You know Karzai?

Agent 007: My father and he met in the World Cup some years ago... literally. They had a head-on collision in mid-air. They woke up in the same hospital room together and became fast friends. It's all in my father's memoirs.

D: I see. Well, remind me to have you send me some of that Cavendish blend as well. Meanwhile, I've got a tough assignment for you. Are you familiar with Karkaroff, the notorious dark agent?

Agent 007: Like a 1947 Mouton-Rothschild.

D: He's gone missing, and missing with the Pillar of Storge in his possession.

Agent 007: Blimey! Isn't that the legendary...

D: (Waves off 007 to quiet him) You'll start in Budapest, which was where Karkaroff was last seen. He was last noticed driving along a window-ledge near the Danube in a Volkswagen Bug with racing stripes and the number 53 painted on the hood.

Agent 007: How odd...

D: First, see F. and G. about your equipment... and don't forget to be back by next week. You've got a match against Hufflepuff on Tuesday. (007 walks out of the office)

(Agent 007 walks back into MoneyGinny's office to get his cloak.)

Agent 007: Well, it's off to Budapest for me, MoneyGinny. Will you miss me? (He waves his wand and his cloak flies over to him.)

MoneyGinny: Not as much if you'd be kind enough to kiss me goodbye.

Agent 007: If I did that, I might never get out of the office, and then I'd never be back in time for Quidittch. (He smiles again, with the same results as before, briefly grasps her shoulder and then saunters out the door, having completed the requisite flirting for this picture.)

MoneyGinny: (Moonily, just after the door closes) Harry, just for once I wish you'd play with my golden snitch...

(Scene: The deepest recesses of MI6. Agent 007 walks into to a room where several small and odd-looking elves are gathered around various devices. One device is a large cauldron. The elves tip a human mannequin into the cauldron and it is sucked in, swirling round and round, as if in a blender until it is consumed by the cauldron, which then burps loudly to the obvious delight of the elves. Another group of elves is sitting at a chessboard with a mannequin on the other side of the table. One of the elves presses a big red button by the chessboard and suddenly the chess pieces turn and attack the mannequin, ripping it to shreds with their tiny pole-arms and broadswords. Another elf is unwrapping chocolates and flinging them at a target across the room, which they stick into like knives. Finally, a elf stands with an owl on his arm. A small, motorized rat runs across the floor nearby. The elf presses a button on his sleeve and the owl flies like a missile, head first into the rat and explodes, destroying the rat and a section of the lab.

007 walks through the smoke and spies two stocky red-headed gentlemen patiently giving instructions to three elves.

F: (to Elf 1) ...you're to make sure the electrifying pocket-watches don't short out underwater...

G: (to Elf 2) ...and you're to make sure the trick cloaks maintain their silky softness, even whilst strangling their victims...

Both F and G: (to Elf 3) ...and you're in charge of the biscuits!

F: (To 007) It's about time you're here...

G: ...D said you'd be down ages ago...

F: It's just like you to keep us waiting...

G: ...will you ever grow up...

F: ...and begin to act your...

Agent 007: Will you bloody shut up?!? It's like trying to chat with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. You're like a bleeding human tennis match where no one ever gets a break point!

F: Fine, if that's the way you want it...

G: ...figure out how to use these on your own...

F: ...to locate the Pillar of...

G: ...SHHH!

(They dump a pile of harmless looking shaving kits, watches, belts, and cigarette lighters into his arms, and storm off angrily. 007 walks over to a nearby table and gingerly puts everything down so as not to disturb a thing. He then wipes a considerable dose of sweat from his jaggedly scarred brow, and sits in a nearby chair, which promptly explodes.)

**********

Will our intrepid agent ever make it out of MI6 in time to get to Budapest? Will there be parts in this pic for Hermione and Ron, his two best friends? Will people come to their senses and realize there's nothing between Granger and Weasley except cat dander and a fondness for toast? Will J.K. Rowling sue me for writing this? There's every chance we'll never find out, because I've run out of time this evening and if I do more than one HP satire a month, Juan Carlos begins to weep and mutter repeatedly about the GAN.

What a bloot of frobious offengi!

Meriam-Webster, publishers of second-tier dictionaries, recently held a contest asking people to send in their favorite words that aren't in a dictionary. A bleeding shame I didn't know about this because I happen to be one of the world's leading repositories of non-standard words. Some of my favorites, with definitions, are below:

Abliverous - The act of being unaware of one's situation, due to either alcohol intoxication, too many sit ups, or in rare cases, both.
Biffle - The act of improperly throwing a wiffle ball in such a way that it travels in the opposite direction of that intended by the thrower and physically maims someone.
Bizzle - Any object not already possessing a name in street slang that rhymes with "jizzle".
Bloot - A large pile of unnecessarily gathered words who sole purpose is to revive a flagging dictionary publisher's fortunes.
Clupulent - Having the quality of a hiccup. Ex. David Byrne's singing style is positively clupulent.
Coultrocious - Attractive and intelligent, while simultaneously nauseating
Deanasticize - To scream like a professional wrestler at a political event. (Alt. - To base one's poltical views on an Internet poll)
Digimaniac - Someone who thinks it's a good idea to pretend to find part of a human finger in a bowl of fast-food chilli.
Egoticize - The act of developing a ridiculous plan to win an Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, and Tony award in a period of five years or less. (See Phillip Michael Thomas)
Frobious - Smelling of warm, stale soda pop and chunder
Gilliganous - Incompetent in a manner that consistently proves advantageous. (Alt.- Deserving to be voted off the island, but surviving due to a technicality or exemption)
Hamyonce - To sing more than two songs at a major awards program.
Jarble - To speak in a manner resembling Jar-Jar Binks. i.e. To blather like an idiot when there's light-saber fighting to be done.
Jessisimpicize - To sing by grunting in a manner only stimulating to neanderthals. (Alt.- To ride the coattails of an older, only slightly more talented sibling. Syn. - Baldwinize)
Kagaesque - Resplendent in a vaguely effeminate way.
Kinkle - To wad up a photocopy because it didn't turn out properly.
Marthals - Any homemade decoration derived from prison surplus.
Mcgibberish - Any spoken words at a fast-food drive through window obscured by the poor quality of the speaker system, or the refusal of the restaurant staff to actually wait to hear what you ordered.
Mooralise - The act of being outraged by your own fantasies about public officials and then finding a way to cash in on it.
Nipplicious - The state of having more than two nipples on one's body.
Nipseylicious - The state of having more than two references to Nipsey Russell in a comedy bit.
Offengi - Any word that no one can actually define without resorting to making stuff up. Ex. Supercalifragilisticexpealidosious
Phrinkle - A wrinkle on a part of the body not generally exposed to the public.
Quabble - To violently argue about a game of bridge more than 24 hours after the game has ended.
Ratchifraz - Loud exclamations that sound suspiciously like cursing, but are vague enough to not trouble television network censors.
Squibble - To write in a hurried manner using a sponge instead of a pen.
Trolluate - To gain a perverse satisfaction from posting an anonymous message on an online discussion board involving one of the following: sexuality, Nazism, Communism, or really bad puns involving the names of politicians.
Underiggle - To laugh uncontrollably at the mention of the word "underwear". (Brtitsh variant: Knickeraffle)
Woops - Same as Whoops, only misspelled for dramatic effect.
Zinkle - To urinate in the woods, whilst perched in a tree.

I'm baaaaaaackkkk!!!!

And all of you (all 6 or you that is) thought that you had gotten rid of me for good. Well, 5 straight Disney days and at least 3 separate trance-like renditions of "It's a Small World" was not enough to change me into a mind-numbed Disney robot. Although, I do find it strange that my wardrobe now consists entirely of red shorts and yellow shoes.

In the past ten years I have been to Disney World four times and changes are inevitable and this year was no different. Here are some notes I made while on the various rides.

GM's Test Track - the ride now consists of Michael Eisner driving you around in a 1988 Cavalier while playing old Tears for Fears albums. The car smells of a bad catalytic converter. Eisner drops you off at a building on the back lot where you have to assemble a new GM car before returning.

It's a Small World - apparently the automatic system for the boat has broken down so we had to paddle it around while singing the song. Most small children were removed from the boats and dressed in festive international garb. We never saw them again.

Dumbo's Flying Elephants - a guy named Ed with one of those fake elephant noses takes you on a piggy back ride. I just wish he had worn a shirt.

Pirates of the Caribbean - changed to a counter service restaurant. I had the YO HO platter which consisted of a fish stick, rancid cole slaw, and a cup of warm water. Johnny Depp was nice though and he was the only one I saw wearing a hairnet although I think one of his teeth fell into my cole slaw.

Jungle Cruise - I don't remember much about this one. I only remember waking up in the hospital after the quinine had taken effect against the malaria. They say the typhus was a mild case but I still get the chills every now and then. Cold, s-s-s-so c-c-c-old.

Tower of Terror - Now re-dubbed Enron Corp. presents the Tower of Terror, it hasn't changed much. You are taken for a ride to the top and then the bottom drops out and you're scared to death. I think GM might be taking over the ride soon.

Those were just a few of the changes made in the parks. I'm still wondering why they removed Kim Jung Il from It's a Small World, he was so cute, although there was no electricity in that part of the ride. So happy to be back.

MMMMMMM...giant birthday cake...

Las Vegas, Nevada hopes to break the Guinness World Record for largest cake ever made, with the creation of a 130,000 pound monster birthday cake, celebrating the city's 100th anniversary. The cake measured measured 102 feet long, 52 feet wide and 20 inches high, not counting the topless showgirls, slot machines, and 7-foot tall candles on top.

Unfortunately, before the good beer-making people from Guinness could arrive, the entire cake was devoured by famed eating champion Takeru "Tsunami" Kobayashi, who was in town for a sauerbraten festival.

"I was on my way to the bratwurst-eating contest, when I saw the cake," Kobayashi said through an interpreter. "I said to myself, 'Self-san, this will be the perfect warm-up for sauerbraten - a little sweet stuff to get the blood sugar up and going.' I only wish I had brought some chopsticks or a fork with me"

Kobayashi finished off the cake in just under 13 minutes, which is also an unofficial Guinness World Record for Most Ridiculous Feat of Human Consumption. "I would have been faster, but I had to work around the showgirls," Takeru claimed.

Kobayashi then went on to win the local sauerbraten contest, defeating William Perry, Tom Arnold, and Regis Philbin, by scarfing 225 pounds of the stuff in just under 90 seconds, not including the barrels of sauerkraut and lager included with the meal.

Get a room! The detention room, in fact.

Sky View Middle School in Bend, Oregon has passed a rule prohibiting public hugging and other displays of affection. One mother said that she didn't agree with the ban. "I'm trying to understand what's wrong with a hug," she complained.

School officials, in order to make the rule more clear to confused parents, have amended it to read: "No groping, fondling, embracing, kissy-facing, clinching, massaging, nuzzling, petting, touching, rubbing, patting, dandling, nestling, embosoming, cosseting, handling, entwining, snuggle-bunnying, or canoodling of any kind is permitted at this school."

Another mother was reported to have responded, "I'm trying to understand what's wrong with a good, old-fashioned embosom."