On the 11th Hour of the 11th Day of the 11th Month, the Guns Fell Silent

Am commemorating Veteran's Day by waiting in an internet cafe at the airport, aware that many have been sacrificed for the privilege of my doing so. The above Black Adder clip, while comedic, might as well be a real transcript of low-level British commanders steeling themselves with black humour before embarking on a suicidal attack in the Great War. Here's Hugh Laurie of "House M.D." fame playing the Leftenant who greets a glum Captain Darling, sent down by a general to join the deadly fanfaronnade:

Laurie: "Well this is splendid comradely news! Together we'll fight for king and country and we'll be sucking down sausages in Berlin by tea-time!"

Darling: "...rather hoped I'd get through the whole show. Go back to work at Pratt & Sons...keep wicket for the Croydon Gentlemen...marry Dorothy. Made a note in my diary on the way here...it simply says, 'Bugger.'"

(Credits to "WTF is it now?")

Vetting the Obama-Dog

If you have a hypoallergenic shelter-dog handy, now's the time to notify the Obamas. Charming bark a plus, biting reporters a no-no. (Barack is a friend of dry humor.)

Mayor In Russia Says He Can See Sarah Palin Showering From His House

(Provideniya, Russia) Governor Sarah Palin, the Republican Vice Presidential nominee, has said that she can see Russia from her house. Across the Bering Strait in Provideniya Bay sits the town of Provideniya, Russia and its mayor Dimitri Andropov. He says that he can see Palin showering from HIS house. “And it is very nice.”

Mayor Andropov added that his small town, like America, is transfixed with the buxom Governor. “We have a shower watchman on duty 24/7. And when the delightful Palin turns on the water and lets down her hair, the alarm sounds, telling everyone to rush to my house for a show. The kids love it.”

Leonid Andropov, the Mayor’s brother, said that the ability to see Palin shower has given him and the other men a newfound respect for her. “She’s a very thorough cleaner, which is tough when one is dealing with moose guts, wolf blood and oil…And she doesn’t have a mustache, which is just a big plus for us.”

In a spontaneous Q&A at a Phoenix donut shop, Sarah Palin said that she’s okay with the Russians watching her shower. “I’m flattered. And hopefully my cleanliness can inspire them to go after freedom, liberty and democracy...so that they can create jobs, get more freedom and liberty to help the economic job search, then hunt down the terror loving terrorists and change their nation of human people for the better.”

“All I heard from that speech was change, and change to us is bad,” said Mayor Andropov. “Change means John McCain will win the election and take our water princess to shower in Washington D.C…We don’t want that to happen…Everything else Governor Palin said was over our small town heads. But that’s okay, because we like to watch Sarah the same way she likes to watch Saturday Night Live, with the sound turned down.”

In other news, Bill Clinton announced his candidacy for Mayor of Provideniya.

(via Brother Tim at the Blog of Revelation and The Lost News)

Biologists Hope To Discover Darwin Particle With Giant Animal Smasher

Via the science blog:

Scientists from the Evolutionary Acceleration Research Institute (EARI) announced that the first test of the Giant Animal Smasher (GAS) will begin on December 19, 2008, the 41st anniversary of the premiere of Dr. Dolittle.

Dr. Thomas Malwin, head of the research project, said, "The first test runs will only accelerate microscopic life-forms like bacteria and viruses to high speeds, but theoretically the GAS can handle animals as large as squirrels, hence the squirrel smasher moniker."

Biologists from around the globe hope the GAS will unlock the secrets of the so-called "Darwin particle" that could unlock the secrets to life.

Senator Joe Lieberman Sighted In Connecticut, Mistaken As Prehistoric Amphibian

Frightened residents of West Hartford described him as a "mysterious creature" and a "reservoir monster." (Video if you click on the link.)

Far Side Cartoon: Superman's Wife Sews On His Logo

"After many years of marital bliss, tension enters the Kent household."

Welcome, Rich White Oligarchs!

The Daily Show has this billboard up on the route from the airport to the Republican convention site in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Sweet!

Paris Hilton: Future President Of The United States

I have, amongst annoyed friends, non-plussed relatives, and on this very blog, predicted that Paris Hilton would one day occupy the White House. In a sadistic sort of way, I was dead serious, but certainly didn't expect to see hints of my eventual vindication come this soon.

C'est arrive, me hearties. Paris's response to a John McCain ad which used footage of her to lampoon Barack's celebrity appeal has made me look like Nostradamus after downing 6 lattes. It wasn't that hard, really, just a matter of sticking with the basics. This woman consciously understands how to craft images, promote herself, stay on top as a taste-maker and manipulate the masses at will, and she can turn those talents to any purpose she wants. She's got what it takes, and would make a fine President or a top-notch dictator.

If you watch the video, you'll see how she successfully articulates a compromise position on energy and the environment that everyone would actually vote for, one which would probably work. Politics is now more about style than policy detail or machine loyalties, and fortunately or not, this 'Funny or Die' video provides one glimpse into the future. I forgive you in advance for self-protective mechanisms such as calling me an imbecile, since for most healthy people such a future is simply too terrifying to contemplate. (Whatever you do, don't think of a Pink White House.)

(Update: Lord Wife, who first pointed out the video, reacted to this post with the raised eyebrows of incredulity. To which I rejoined, "People give this girl $50,000 to show up at parties for a couple of hours. By that measure, is she not the smartest person alive?")

There's No Place Like Rome...There's No Place Like Rome

Davo over at Wombat's Waffles (link at right) put up the picture of the Catholic leader, perfectly accessorized with bold red Prada shoes. Nothing against gayness, pontiff, but Nathan Lane's outfits in the American remake of La Cage aux Folles weren't as flaming as those goddamned shoes:

"Why, what are you insinuating, my son? Straight non-pedophiles wear shoes just like these all the time! And nothing supernatural whatsoever occurs when I click the heels together. Now kiss the ring before I spank you."

Seems the pope, whose online screen name is PBXVI, was visiting Oz this week because around 40 active Catholics live there. To paraphrase the guy in Sling Blade, "Some folks just need drillin,' hrrmmm." If I have offended any Catholics, god be with you, and please feel free to comically eviscerate what is technically still my religion. Mormonism.

George Carlin's Eulogy, As Told By Himself

There are countries in the world, France being one, where "intellectual" is an officially recognized occupation. Here in America, we have no such job title. Our intellectuals are known as comedians. George Carlin was one of the sharpest, and he died on Sunday. He is memorable for many things--his pointilist use of obscenity, his personal generosity, his bravery. Less recognized is his intellect, a wizardly ability to observe the social environment and melt it down to glittering, ricocheting bullets of truth. My friend Still Life Living sent me Carlin's clip above in memory of, and once transcribed, it describes the wizard better than I or anyone else could:

Thank you. I'm a modern man, a man for the millenium, digital and smoke-free; a diversified multi-cultural post-modern deconstructionist, politically and anatomically and ecogolociacally incorrect. I've been uplinked and downloaded, I’ve been inputted and outsourced. I know the upside of downsizing, and I know the downside of upgrading.

I’m a high tech lowlife, a cutting-edge state-of-the-art bi-coastal multi-tasker and I can give you a gigabyte in a nanosecond. I’m New Wave but I’m Old School, and my inner child is outward bound. I’m a hot-wired, heat-seeking warmhearted cool customer. I’m voice activated and biodegradable. I interface with my database, and my database is in cyberspace. So I’m interactive, hyperactive and, from time to time, radioactive.

Behind the 8-ball, ahead of the curve, riding the wave, dodging the bullet, pushing the envelope. I’m on point, on task, on message and off drugs. I got no need for coke and speed. I got no urge to binge and purge. I’m in the moment, on the edge, over the top but under the radar, a high concept low profile medium-range ballistic missionary, a street-wise smart-bomb, a Top Gun bottom-feeder. I wear power ties, I tell power lies, I take power naps, I run victory laps. I’m a totally ongoing Bigfoot slam dunk rain-maker with a proactive outreach, a raging workaholic, a working rageaholic. Out of rehab and in denial.

I got a personal trainer a personal shopper a personal assistant and a personal agenda. You can’t shut me up and you can’t dumb me down 'cause I’m tireless and I’m wireless. I’m an Alpha Male on beta-blockers. I’m a nonbeliever and an overachiever, laid back but fashion forward. Up-front, down-home, low rent, high maintenance, super-sized long-lasting high definition fast acting, oven-ready, and built to last. I’m a hands-on footloose knee-jerked head case. Prematurely post traumatic and I have a love child that sends me hate mail.

But I’m feeling, I’m caring, I’m healing, I’m sharing, a supportive, bonding, nurturing primary care giver. My output is down but my income is up. I take a short position on the long bond and my revenue stream has its own cash flow. I read junk mail, I eat junk food, I buy junk bonds and I watch trash sports. I’m gender specific, capital-intensive, user-friendly and lactose intolerant. I like rough sex. I like tough love. I use the “F” word in my E-mail and the software on my hard drive is hardcore, not soft porn. I bought a microwave at a mini mall I bought a mini van at a mega store. I eat fast food in the slow lane. I’m toll-free, bite-sized, ready-to-wear and I come in all sizes. A fully equipped, factory authorized, hospital tested, clinically proven, scientifically formulated medical miracle.

I’ve been pre-washed, pre-cooked, pre-heated, pre-screened, pre-approved, pre-packaged, post-dated, freeze dried, double wrapped, vacuumed packed and I have an unlimited broadband capacity. I’m a rude dude but I’m the real deal. Lean and mean. Cocked, locked and ready to rock. Rough, tough and hard to bluff. I take it slow, I go with the flow, I ride with the tide, I got glide in my stride. Driving and moving, sailing and spending, jiving and grooving, wailing and winning, I don’t snooze so I don’t lose. I keep the pedal to the metal and the rubber on the road. I party hearty and lunch time is crunch time. I’m hanging in, there ain’t no doubt, and I’m hanging tough, over and out. Thank you!

Obama Perfects Looking-Off-Into-Future Pose

Subtle muscular adjustments can show, from left above, wistfulness, determination, and unbridled hopefulness.

CHICAGO—As the 2008 presidential election draws closer, Democrat Barack Obama has reportedly been working tirelessly with his top political strategists to perfect his looking-off-into-the-future pose, which many believe is vital to the success of the Illinois senator's campaign.

When performed correctly, the pose involves Obama standing upright with his back arched and his chest thrust out, his shoulders positioned 1.3 feet apart and opened slightly at a 14-degree angle, and his eyes transfixed on a predetermined point between 500 and 600 yards away. Advisers say this creates the illusion that Obama is looking forward to a bright future, while the downturned corners of his lips indicate that he acknowledges the problems of the present.

"The senator spends six hours a day gazing resolutely off into the distance," said chief political strategist David Axelrod, who regularly analyzes video of the pose with Obama, pinpoints areas that need improvement, and makes necessary tweaks.

"It is critical to get every detail right," Axelrod continued. "If he looks up an inch too high, he appears aloof or confused. If he looks down too low, it appears that he is distracted by something in the back of the auditorium. If the curvature of his upper lip is not at the exact 0.87-centimeter radius, it reads that he does not care about preserving the environment for future generations."

The pose also requires Obama to arch his eyebrows at 32-degree angles, open his mouth to prevent the misconception that he is frowning about the future, and briefly flare his nostrils to convey faith in the nation's children.

He must then clench his jaw with sufficient force to express strength and decisiveness—if he uses too much force, Axelrod said, his supraorbital forehead vein becomes visible and makes it appear as though he is in physical pain.

"Every millimeter of that head vein costs him 150,000 votes," Axelrod said.

To complete the pose, Obama must then open his eyes at an aperture of 1.43 centimeters, tilt his chin slightly upward, and rotate his head 37 degrees to the left. His advisers stressed that he must always look to the left.

"When you look to the future, you look to the left," Axelrod said. "Looking to the right is an I-am-sorry-for-the-mistakes-I've-made-in-the-past-but-promise-to-work-my-hardest-for- this-great-nation-from-now-on pose. It's too early for that."

The biggest obstacle Obama has had to overcome in recent weeks is his proclivity to squint while looking toward the future, which aides say alienates voters.

"We've worked on the squinting," said Obama adviser Sam Hosking, who claimed it was a "death knell" for a candidate to appear to be struggling to see the nation's future. "It took a lot of work, but we were able to turn the squint into a solemn blink."

"The blink humanizes him," Hosking added. "But you have to be careful. Two blinks and people will start to question if he's a man of his word."

(There's even more at The Onion, the newspaper that made Madison famous.)

Time Warner Rushes To Deliver Web TV To Newly Discovered Tribe

NEW YORK (Reuters) - Time Warner Cable Inc (TWC.N) plans to offer subscribers an easier way to bring Internet video to their television screens as part of an overall home networking system, Chief Executive Glenn Britt said on Friday.

"Right now it's pretty hard to get Internet stuff on your TV," Britt said at the Sanford C. Bernstein Strategic Decisions Conference in New York. "Within a relatively short time it's going to be very easy to get Internet TV on your big screen TV," he said, estimating it would take between one to two years to popularize such technology.

"To prove just how easy it will be for the average consumer, we have targeted the best demographic in the world, a purely indigenous tribal group on the Brazil-Peru border. The tribe has had no previous contact with the outside world, does not have a name or a known language, and as you saw on PowerPoint slide 19, they were trying to shoot down our plane with spears and arrows. We have teams on the ground bringing in two 48-inch flat screens, satellite uplinks, and the required generators. We're scheduled to go live in 8 days."

Britt gave few specific details about how the service would work or when it would become available in the US, focusing on the design benefits of bringing YouTube to peoples untouched by television, internet, or any known communication methods. "Tivo and Apple TV were for the classic tech-savvy early adopters, and the uptake in those segments is already falling off; whereas in cable, we have traditionally dominated in much broader market segments, the ones only capable of switching channels. An undiscovered, completely illiterate tribe is the perfect focus group for us...when they can use it, we'll know it's ready for North America."

Shares in Time Warner Cable, which recently announced plans to separate fully from Time Warner Inc (TWX.N) by the end of the year, rose 2 percent to $30.57.

(Note: portions of the above were taken from business news about Time Warner.)

Hillary Clinton Campaign Mad-Lib, Starring Adolf Hitler

This send-up of the Clinton campaign was written by James Adomian, an L.A.-based comedian who has been on Comedy Central. Dennis Perrin, a writer for The Daily Show, exposed it on his blog over the weekend. Adomian, known for his Bush imitations, adapted the German-language film 'Der Untergang.' Do not watch this clip if you are an ardent Hillary supporter, creative profanity shocks you, your bronchitis is acting up, or if you're eating.

Parrots And BushCo Parables

A magician was working on a cruise ship in the Caribbean. The audience would be different each week, so the magician allowed himself to do the same tricks over and over again.

There was only one problem: The captain's parrot saw the shows every week and began to understand what the magician did in every trick. Once he understood that, he started shouting in the middle of the show.

"Look, it's not the same hat!" "Look, he's hiding the flowers under the table!" "Hey, why are all the cards the Ace of Spades?"

The magician was furious but couldn't do anything, it was the captain's parrot after all.
One day the ship had an accident and sank. The magician found himself on a piece of wood, in the middle of the ocean, and of course the parrot was by his side.

They stared at each other with hate, but did not utter a word. This went on for several days.

After a week the parrot finally said, "Okay, I give up. What'd you do with the boat?”

(The Magician and the Parrot joke brought to you by the good people over at Cat in the Bag.)

I Have Seen The Future, Baby: Competitive Environmentalism

Like librul tree-huggers everywhere, while my morning latte is being whipped up by a time-automated Gaggia espresso machine set on 'stun,' I roll out of bed straight onto my secret prayer rug, prostrate myself in the direction of Mecca, and thank Allah for preserving the body and soul of Osama bin Laden.

When that's out of the way, I come downstairs in my hemp pajamas and test the frothiness of my one-percent-raw-milk-and-soy Caffe Vita, considering my daily questions: "What can I do to make my family look like we're consuming less resources than we actually are? How can we single-handedly blunt Global Climate Destabilization, and out-do our friends and neighbors in the environmental arts?"

As previously reported, I tried going the bio-fuels route with the newest diesel station wagon Mercedes sold in North America. Of course, that still means the car is 21 years old, come of age at last. Driving vintage vehicles is curiously exhilarating, and while your gleaming bodywork swans along to admiring glances, your arm casually draped on the window, you're terrified and thinking, "Gee, I hope there's a downhill parking spot open. The sunroof will leak, but at least pointed downhill it'll probably star--shit! I forgot the window won't roll back up." Still, other drivers have stopped me on the street to ejaculate, "Wow! How did you find that baby? I've been looking 5 years for one of those! Are you turning it into a grease-car?" The Merc generates enviro-cache' and, as a bonus, the mortification of the perfectly passive-aggressive Andersons three houses up the street, bio-diesel burners and cut-throat competitors, what with their VW Passat TDI only being 4 years old. After upping the ante, I detected hints of degage' on Mr. Anderson's part, a certain constraint. Inside a week, he started biking to and from work.

Luckily I'd held one card in reserve--the commute for both Lord Wife and I is approximately 40 feet each way, having mindfully structured our lives so we could work at home. The opportunity for a well-sharpened riposte came at a neighborhood block party. During a thought-provoking conversation about Peak Oil, how to make our neighborhood more walkable, the desired elimination of plastic bag usage and the possible multiplier effects of a Venezuelan oil embargo on prices, I let slip my stiletto within Mr. Anderson's range of hearing--"we're lucky. Working from home truly lessens our dependence on oil, although we started out for different reasons. For the children." His jaw slowly clenched, his ears quietly reddened, a Belgian beer was left half-finished. "Ha," I thought, "that'll settle his hash for awhile." Two weekends later, an array of ultra-high-tech German solar panels appeared on the roof of the Andersons' porch, robotically, teutonically turning to drink in the sun at the most advantageous angles.

Dear Allah: may Mr. Anderson rot in hell. Even if the wonder-panels weren't perpetually back-ordered (despite costing $7500 apiece), our house faces northward, and positioning the status-enhancing devices so they can be seen from the street would severely curtail their efficiency, a fact of which Anderson was well aware. So for right now, I put a chicken coop out front as a quick stop-gap, and we're raising speckled game hens on organic worms. Longer term, I'm having an architect draw up plans for an attractive home sewage treatment plant made from reclaimed materials, one which will safely turn our poo into compost by pedaling an attached bicycle. This old 'hood won't know what hit it. As for those kraut-made solar panels? They'll just have to go out back.

Clinton Compares Herself To Rocky Balboa: 'We Have A Lot In Common'

Honest, a mole in their campaign did not tell me last Friday Hillary was set to go Balboa:

PHILADELPHIA — Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton says she has something in common with legendary film boxer Rocky Balboa _ she's not a quitter.

Recalling a famous scene on the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art from the 1976 Oscar-winning film "Rocky," Clinton said that ending her presidential campaign now would be as if "Rocky Balboa had gotten halfway up those art museum steps and said, 'Well, I guess that's about far enough.'"

"Let me tell you something, when it comes to finishing a fight, Rocky and I have a lot in common. I never quit. I never give up. And neither do the American people," Clinton said in excerpts of prepared remarks to be given Tuesday to a meeting of the Pennsylvania AFL-CIO.

The Cavalry's A-Comin: Nader 2008

Ralph Nader is raw. Rough. Ready for action, running for President. His solution for America is brilliant, yet simple. When he wins the Presidency in November, all Americans will receive lifetime subscriptions to Consumer Reports, freeing us from corporate greed, corporate power, corporate control.

(I wish we had a system where we had more than two choices, where the Green Party could hold seats in Parliament next to the Unsafe At Any Speed Party. But we don't.)

Comedy Learns From Tragedy

To all the people I know Back East tunneling under 12 feet of snow and who are now getting snowed on, again.

Happy Valentine's Day: This Is Your Brain On Orgasm

Short summary of the latest research on the complex physiology of what I will euphemistically term Pleasurable Reproductive Responses (PRRs): "Birds do it. Bees do it. Even epileptic seizures do it." From the LA Times:

In an orgasm orchestra, the genitalia may be the instruments, but the central nervous system is the conductor.

Armed with new lab tools and fearless volunteers, scientists are getting first-ever glimpses of how the brain lights up (and, in places, shuts down) when the orgasmic fireworks go off. They're tracing nerves and finding new pathways for pleasure that help explain how people with shattered spinal cords can defy sexual expectations.

Cultivating PRRs has a lot to do with having an undamaged vagus nerve, a sleepy lateral orbitofrontal cortex, and getting the hots for a certain someone helps immensely. Most surprisingly, a precise location in the spinal cord has recently been discovered, which, when shocked, triggers full female responses in the absence of other stimuli. The spines seem to have it, and attendant parasympathetic pattern responses are dazzlingly complex, neurologically resembling an epileptic seizure. A fact with which most of you are thoroughly aware.

To deepen the complexity, even people with severed spinal cords can experience full-on PRRs, and those no-doubt-welcome phenomena flummox the sum total of four thousand years of Western medicinal anatomy: it was considered theoretically impossible, yet it appears to happen via the vagus nerve. That's the longest nerve, which does not travel down the spine but rather along the neck, beside the heart down to below the stomach. The symbol for Valentine's Day, the heart with an arrow through it, was chosen in wisdom, and the archaic "the way to a man's heart is through his stomach" is newly apropos. In toto, PRRs seem to be more peripherally distributed around the body than previously realized, and presumably coordinate via processes which, although now being mapped as enthusiastically as treasure trails, are not yet understood.

Flowers and chocolates are stimulants by their own rights, proxies to enliven some of the same pleasure centers, dimming the lights on the same frontal areas of reasoning. But the Orgasmatron is coming, having already been successfully used in applied research. So, a question...in terms of etiquette, are electronic gifts OK on Valentine's Day?

(Thanks, SLL, for the articles.)

Pro Football, Seattle Style

At the end of 'This Is Spinal Tap,' heavy metal band stalwart Nigel Tufnel contemplates retirement for the 57th time:

"Well, I suppose I could, uh, work in a shop of some kind, or … or do, uh, freelance, uh, selling of some sort of, uh, product. You know … like maybe in a, uh, haberdasher, or maybe like a, uh, um … a chapeau shop or something …"

At the end of the Seattle Seahawks season, coaching stalwart Mike Holmgren contemplates retirement for the 57th time:

"I've always wanted to buy a bookstore. You know, sell some of those muffins and a little coffee. I don't care if we make any money. I don't want to lose a lot of money, but we could visit with people and get books. People say I could never do that. The cynics in the world say if you've been in this business, to all of a sudden do that, you can't do it. I would say, 'Maybe, maybe not."

Mmm-hmmm. Let's see, an NFL ex-head coach running a book store...you can just see the customer relations possibilities. "Tolstoy? You're buying Tolstoy?? Jesus Christ in a sidecar, dumbass, that's for high school. Is that where you want to go? Maybe you need to start doing a better job in here! Aiming a little higher! Maybe you failed to notice our display, our prominent goddamned display of the past 25 Booker Prize winners. Which is nearly hitting you in the ass! Put down Anna Frickin' Karenina, let's get underneath your personal bullshit and get down to work. Here's a copy of The Inheritance of Loss, by Kiran Desai. Get over to that reading desk and I don't want to see you move for at least two hours! We might make you into a halfway decent reader yet."

Seattle Seahawks owner Paul Allen, recognizing a clever negotiating ploy, put the kibosh on Holmgren's dreams of lattes and little muffins by forking over the Jimi Hendrix Museum, the San Francisco Reserve Bank, and an undisclosed country (rumored to be full of benighted savages waiting to receive chocolate chip cookies and the light of Christ) to keep Holmgren on The Farm for another year. And Mike, if you're serious about this bookstore thing and not just weirding us all out, I have the perfect place for you: it's just up the street, with the best books in town, wonderful coffee and muffins. It's called Third Place Books.