Police Thwart Scheme To Steal Glacier Ice For High-End Ice Cubes

[Headline, Huffington Post]

The ice poachers did not get busted for their cube thefts, not per se. Some guy put in an order for a mammoth frozen in a big block of ice. Pretty cool, but when the glacier owners came out in the morning and found their mammoth gone, they flipped out. Lay in wait near their frozen sabertooth and when the poachers came back, powie.

The poachers were also hurt by the recent goldfish-in-a-cube craze. Their glacier ice offers a selection of lungfish, mountain crappie, and gar, but no species with that cocktail-gold glitter of the carp.

These enterprising vendors were also dispirited to learn that consumers were melting their ice and refreezing it in custom cube dimensions. Of course, this frees the prehistoric gases from the ice and spoils its taste. Our culture: sans culture. Why not use a dixie cup to scoop up agua from the toilet bowl?

Glacier cubes are still available. They come from Chinese (Tibetan, for the democratic purists) glaciers. One million workers imported from Heilongjiang Province work with tiny chisels. This crew represents the largest collection of iced-tea drinkers on the planet, yet ironically, they are not allowed to use the glacier ice in front of them. It’s like all those workers assembling iPhones, whilst using cans and string to communicate within the factory itself.

Once you’ve obtained your prehistoric cubes from the glaciers of the rich and famous, what are you going to drop them into? Swill? Of course not. Find a limo – not a rental, but a rich guy’s ride. Wait till the chauffeur turns his back and then sneak in and swipe whatever drinks you find. That’s what I do.

If your spouse or special friend is choking on one of these cubes: perform the heimlich, scoop up the cube, and get it back into the freezer as soon as possible. They’re expensive!

Finally, A Movie About Circumcisions

[Headline, Huffington Post, 01/30/12]

This blog existed, originally, to host movie reviews. I expected to write many a word about foreskins. I was ready to write about afterskins as well, if any such should be found and filmed.

Imagine my disappointment at the dearth of material. How many reviews can you write about Moolaadé? And that’s female circumcision, which is not what I had in mind at all.

Eventually then, this site became a hangout for soreheads who wanted to ban circumcision, and for circumcision queens (don’t ask). Scuffles broke out. A pecking order developed, based on foreskin square-footage. It was an outrage.

So I cut and ran. I sliced off that part of the blog.

Sure, when a movie like “Neanderthal Cut” came out, I spilled a little ink over its depiction of Mankind’s first (inadvertent) circumcision, by chert. And “The Shame and the Glory,” about the artist Graarbeaart, who would paint only ripe tomatoes and the circumcised penis.

Are circumcisions making a comeback? They were so big during the silent-movie era! Can this blog finally stop temporizing and take the subject in hand? I’ve heard that the combination of IMAX and 3D has many directors interested in movies that compare and contrast the circumcised and uncircumcised member. Polling as audiences exit the theater indicate that 85% of men are indifferent to the images, cut or uncut. The other 15% have strong feelings. Matters are more confused with female audience members. Confronted with a 50-foot “thing” in its original wrapping, many were not sure just what they were looking at. Whatever it was, however, most agreed that it wasn’t worth the $14 ticket.

Can Men Hear When You Have Your Period?

[Headline, Huffington Post, 1/27/12]

I broke down and called Arianna Huffington on this one. I know that she sold her periodical to some company or other, but she is still the managing news manager. She keeps her ear to the ground. I asked her what she had heard about this, period.

What would  her mother say, back in Greece, if she read this article? Or wait, are young women actually asking their mothers questions like this today? If I looked into a high-school classroom during third period – or any period – would I see teenage boys chatting with the girls and then impulsively resting their ears on the girls’ stomachs?

My hearing is none too good. I almost got run over by a truck this morning and I couldn’t make out one word that the driver was shouting at me. A woman at work cut her finger and I heard her squawk, but I didn’t hear the bleeding.

The other thing is that a gentleman does not acknowledge, or even notice, any sound that might emanate from a woman’s body – or any odor either, of course. You’re sitting at dinner in a fine restaurant, or in your loge at the opera, with Lady Betsy, and no matter how violently your senses are assaulted, no matter what mutters or actual cries of outrage are to be heard from those around you, you remain oblivious, the slightest smile on your lips, and you bend toward her and offer her a mint and your opera glasses, clouded though they may have become.

WATCH: Bullfrog DOMINATES Video Game

[Headline, Huffington Post]

You know that giant man spotted at Kim Jong-Il’s funeral? And now a giant bullfrog with super intelligence which croaks in the Korean bullfrog dialect? Coincidence? I think not.

The North Koreans, at first glance, have accomplished nothing in the past few decades. Satellite photos taken at night show a black patch of earth surrounded by the lights of China, South Korea, and Japan. Nothing to show for sixty years of struggle in NK, nothing other than the construction of a few nukes. Or not?? NK is the same size as Mississippi, which should tell you something right there.

NK has a million-man army, fourth largest in the world. When the authorities want a million-man march, unlike in Mississippi, no problem!

The truth is, those in power in North Korea have directed strong efforts over the years in secret directions. They’ve done a lot of work on giants, for one thing, and bullfrogs, for another. I have read several predictions that if Kim Jong-Il’s son fails as the next glorious leader, a giant human with the characteristics of a bullfrog, or vice versa, will take over. What does this mean?

Number one, our diplomats are not equipped to negotiate with a frog. The current liberal Greenpeacers in the EPA in Washington now are just dying to give away the store. The only thing worse would be if Korea was controlled by an ivory-billed woodpecker.

Number two, the Olympics will become a travesty, at least where the long jump is concerned.

Number three, NK is known as the Hermit kingdom. You don’t have to be a genious to see that the country is working not only on frogs, but on hermit crabs as well.

I hold no brief against frogs! Some of my best friends have pet frogs, or eat frog legs (but not both), or in shorts look like they have frog legs ha ha.

Toads, though, I’m not so sure. A big plate of toad legs can put a real damper on a first date.

So in closing: if a frog beats you at a video game, yes, he might be a prince, but if he is missing his legs, he might have played a French chef… and lost!

Family Who Believed Puppy Had Died After Accident Gets Big Surprise

(Headline, Huffington Post)

Our biggest surprise was how good Ronald Reagan looked, pretending to be a puppy again. We gave him a whole-body buzz cut and dyed him in mixed gray, black, white, and cafe au lait. Cute dog!

As we reported to the press, Ronald fell into our big hamburger grinder. When a batch of ground meat and fur came out the other end, well, we were sure that poor old Ronald was a goner.

But not so. He got wedged up in there before reaching the swirling blades. The big cat from next door wasn’t so lucky. Ronald will never catch up with old Whiskers now.

Ronnie likes to sit in front of the high def and watch the video clip from the news story over and over again. There he is and… oops, into the grinder. Now that’s news.

Look for Ronald to return next month. “Faithful Family Dog Returns Home After 1,000-Mile Trek,” and then, “Family Dog Saves Infant From Burning Crib.” We’d better be sober for that one!

You Won’t Believe What Police Found In This Horse Saddle

(Headline, Huffington Post, 11/16/11)

Honey, I might be late tonight. I’ve got to find a story or I’m gonna get fired… Hey, you over there! What the heck are you doing? Are you smelling those bicycle seats. Get away from there or I’m calling 911. What kind of pervert are you?

Sorry, Honey. Some guy, Jesus, what a town. Anyway, I’ll call you later.

Please, God. Give me something here. An accident, a robbery… Hey, you! What the hell? Get away from that horse! Now you’re sniffing saddles? Go on, that’s it, run, you creep.

Easy, big fella. He was just nosing around your saddle. But, Christ, what is that smell, anyway? And how come you’ve got this zipper in the leather… Let me just… What the…? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I wanted a story to call in, but this?

One State Takes Drastic Measure To Encourage Breastfeeding

(Huffington Post headline)

Bulletin from the State Office of Health and Safety

Attention, Citizens!

It has come to our attention that many mothers in this state are bottle-feeding their babies. This is unacceptable. Sure, you can give your baby the occasional sugar-teat soaked with laudanun. Mothers have been doing that for years. But bottle milk will not do; nor will rubber nipples.

Henceforth, all new mothers will be mailed an inexpensive cell phone with camera. Each time that you breastfeed, take a picture of your baby on the teat and send the picture to this office using the phone.

Our agents will make random checks of nursing mothers. If a sufficient number of photos are not on file for you, you will be fined to the full extent of the law. Repeat offenses will cause an agent to be assigned to you. This agent will be authorized to haul out the teat and attach the baby to it.

You may apply for an exception due to, for example, inverted nipples, milk that doesn’t come in, or nipples ravaged by a baby with early teeth. An agent will follow up with you. Hormone therapy may be required. Tooth guards may be applied to your child.

Fathers cannot substitute for the agent, even if the agent is a male, as many of them are. Although some of our agents may have a severe breast fetish, nonetheless they are seasoned professionals. They will see the milk from the gland into the infant and may offer to help with the burping. They will also supply substitute, dry bras in case of leaking.

Don’t send us a picture of a Barbie at your breast. We aren’t idiots. Make sure that we have equal numbers of left- and right-breast nursing pics. Don’t get all artsy, with pics from below or with dramatic lighting, or with other moms around also nursing. On second thought, all those things would be ok.

Although it might seem counterintuitive, the larger and more attractive your breasts are, the more pictures we will require. Try to keep the baby’s head to the side.

Most importantly, have fun! (But no sex while nursing. At least, not to excess.)

Ax-Wielding Man Chops Snow Plow

(Headline in Huffington Post, 11/17/11)

Have you ever whacked a solid-steel plow blade with an ax? Even with gloves, it stings. Wrecks the ax. Doesn’t even scratch the plow. What was I thinking?

I started with a little bitty rubber hammer. Kindergarten. Gingerbread house. Total destruction.

I was lonely as a child. The others were wary. I went through a ball-peen stage before settling on a claw.

I skipped college and got work at Johnson’s Concrete Removal. Pneumatic hammers and drills. I thought about becoming a dentist but gave it up.

I switched to axes one night in August. I was down on the south side of town driving nails into telephone poles when an old lady came out of her house and said, “I axed you befo’ not to do dat.”

Have you ever been in love? What do you chop up then? Discarded mattresses and sofas on the sidewalk? I wanted to buy my baby the moon with a ribbon tied around it. I guess I went a little crazy.

Cat Gets Stuck Atop Towering Cactus

So read the CNN headline on 11/11/11.

My girlfriend’s thoughts:

My ex Mike works for the fire department in town and I happen to know that the town council is considering a conversion of that department to an all-volunteer force. It would be just like Mike, the skunk, to take a cat and put it up a cactus to bring attention to his heroic damn department.

That cat was nobody’s pet. Too scrawny and moth-eaten. I was down at the pound the other day and most of those strays are a mess. It would be just like Mike, the rat, to go down there and pick out a cat to use in his scheme. He could lean a ladder against the cactus and just climb up there with the animal. As a fireman, he’s up and down ladders all day. If he did that, he should be exposed and fired. An anonymous tip would work.

And speaking of going up and down all day, if he was really such a hotshot fireman, he could have seen that cat and rescued it himself. All he had to do was climb off that underage waitress tramp of his and pick up his binoculars and look out my ex-bedroom window. It’s a straight line sight from my ex-bed to somebody on a ladder next to that cactus.

Mike you rat, I hope you are arrested and prosecuted to the full extent of the law, not just for the cat but probably for statutory rape too, because if you aren’t, the next thing they are going to find up there is a puppy.

Tea Party vs Occupy

My dad is worth several billion  dollars. He keeps his money to himself. On Sunday nights after sex, he gives my mom a belly pack stuffed with large bills. That constitutes her working budget for the week.

My mom hates this arrangement. She hates that my dad is so rich. He didn’t earn it. The money lay in a bank waiting for him to be born.

My dad’s mom, on the other hand, is glad that he has the money, even though he won’t let her get near it. He gives her a small pack of it every week. Not after sex, of course. As far as she’s concerned, he desrves it and has every right to keep it to himself as much as he wants.

What my dad’s mom doesn’t like is how my mom runs the family and spends her weekly share of the money. My dad’s mom believes that my mom wastes her money. On organic food. On concerts. On donations to charity. My dad’s mom would reduce this spending by more than one half. She would cut off the allowances to my sister and myself. She believes that the two of us should get jobs at McDonald’s after school and work our way up to the top of leading financial institutions.

My sister ignores all of this. She hangs out with a group of recent college graduates that does a lot of drugs and sex and, according to her, creative art projects.

I spend most of my time online in an anonymous hackers group. Our goal is to crash the Internet in its totality and end Western Civilization as we know it.