Weekender #12: September 26, 2009
A collection of links, news, and oddities that I've come across during the past week.
The Guardian sums up 24: “QUICK RUN JACK! THERE'S A TERRORIST AND HE'S GOING TO BLOW UP THE WORLD IF YOU DON'T GET HERE IN *bang* OH MY GAHD HE SHAAAT ME.”
Most people would probably find the idea of cremation pencils unbearably morbid, but I think it's great — and so does my mom, who is always on the lookout for awesome death merchandise. (Side note: if anyone finds a decently-priced, all-natural shroud somewhere, let me know. That would make her Christmas extra-special.)
Animal news: GIANT SQUID GIANT SQUID GIANT SQUID; pandas are land-line-using, e-mail-eschewing Luddites who refuse to modernize, therefore they should be allowed to die out; but seriously, why would anyone do this, or this?
Irony defined: singer(-and-apparently-she's-a-blogger-too-now?) Lily Allen plagiarizes an anti-stealing blog post. Somewhere, Elton John is smiling smugly.
Dumb crooks, dumb cops: don't bother giving the cops a fake name if your real one is tattoed on your back; a robber falls for the woman he stabbed; sir, your drug-induced masturbatory habits have already caused you to crash your big rig — not a euphemism — so would you mind keeping your hands out of your pants while the cops interrogate you?; and multi-tasking cops take on a drug raid and Wii Bowling simultaneously. Special stupid-victims mentions go to the idiots who fell for the "use chemicals to magically double your money!" scam and to O.J. Simpson's ex-girlfriend, who just now figured out what the rest of us knew all along.
Travel tip: never stiff a German cabbie, or you will end up naked and alone.
Want to lose weight? You could try the latest fad out of California, a mesh patch surgically attached to your tongue that makes eating solid foods unbearably painful. Or you could just come over to my house and have me lock you in a basement closet for a month, where you could live off stagnant rainwater and the occasional cricket. At least my method is cheaper…
A film about Australian cannibal Alexander Pierce goes straight to my "must-see" list anyway, but early reports make Van Diemen's Land sound delightfully barfalicious. I won't be barfing, though, because I always remember to take my daily dose of Elder Sign.
Just like a street thug who's already planning his follow-up moves before the first punch to his victim's gut, Warner Brothers is already sketching out a sequel to Sherlock Holmes before it's even hit the theaters. That's twice as much reason to vomit for us Holmesians. I will comfort myself by purchasing this.
The latest far-feltched theory about the motive behind Annie Le's murder: maybe she was killed by Richard Gere! Or, at any rate, by some guy with a
stick mouse up his butt.
Here are some freaky-slash-awesome pictures of the recent dust storm in Sydney. #18 is just freaky-slash-FREAKY-slash-CAN'T-SLEEP-CLOWNS-WILL-EAT-ME.
From the Annals of Bad Parenting: Australians give their kids weird names (and I love how the article primly refuses to print the kid's last names, "for privacy reasons" — like a kid named Metallica is ever going to have the blessing of anonymity); posting your baby for sale on Craigslist; letting your 16-year-old sail solo around the world even after she's smashed her yacht into another boat. And from the Annals of Ouch: this baby is bigger than all three of my cats combined.
Finally, a T-shirt made for time travelers! Because the only thing standing between me and the invention of time travel was my unsuitable wardrobe. And now that I've busted through that barrier, I can go back in time and keep the Titanic from sinking, thus sparing the world this horrible, horrible poem.
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