“Dove Cameron (not her real name) posted a series of topless pics on instagram because apparently it’s her birthday. The topless pics aren’t the kind you’d want, you know with nipples, but they do show off her cheesy tattoos”

I’m shocked. No, not by the pics or the ink, but by the fact that Dove Cameron was born. I just assumed she was manufactured.

Sure, I was just kidding, but in a very real sense, Dove Cameron was manufactured. Chloe Celeste Hosterman was the prototype version, the one with a birthdate. It’s interesting that Dove strayed so far from her real name to create her nom de theatre. She retained no part of it, ala Archibald Leach / Cary Grant. You can see why somebody would discard Archibald Leach, but using Chloe as a first name and Celeste as a last would have made an excellent celebrity name. It’s sexy, feminine and even alliterative.

(Her late, beloved father called her Dove. Not sure where the Cameron came from.)

It is possible to argue that Chloe Celeste is not an alliteration. There is a very boring digression that follows, about how your high school English teacher lied to you about alliteration. You would be better off skipping it, because life is short and you can never get that time back.

Continue reading “Dove Cameron topless for her birthday (from behind)”

You probably already realized this, because the people who read this blog are not morons, but for the record …

They are not ETs. The “Non-human alien corpses” from Peru that made the headlines this past summer are just dolls made of human bones, animal bones, paper and glue.

And they are not even very old dolls. They are held together “with modern synthetic glues, therefore they were not assembled during pre-Hispanic times.”

Resurrection biology — attempting to bring strings of molecules and more complex organisms back to life — is gaining traction in labs around the world.”

Would Norm MacDonald count as a complex organism? If so, I heartily approve of cloning him. Some countries are whining about declining birth rates. What better way to fortify the population than an army of zombie Norms?

“Swiss city considers legalizing cocaine for recreational use

A spokesperson for the proposal rapidly blurted out, “Thewarondrugshasfailedandwehavetolookatnewideas,” and then she twitched, rubbed her nose, and popped “Scarface” into her Blu-Ray player.

She added that it’s a “scientifically supervised pilot scheme.”

Cocaine supervision is not a bad gig for the scientists. It beats the hell out of studying the recent change in salamander migration patterns.

Say, I’ve been planning a trip to Switzerland. (If you live in Wisconsin, you’re most comfortable traveling to cheese-rich environments.) I wonder if they will accept non-scientists as Assistant Cocaine Supervisors.

Good luck collecting this settlement, ladies. I’d be surprised if Rudy could come up with $148. He probably can’t even pay his lawyers. I’m shocked that high-priced lawyers even agreed to take his case. I suppose they took payment in advance.

You may have noticed that Rudy has completely changed his tune on this matter. He has been giving press conferences outside the courthouse, claiming that he was right about his accusations. His original strategy was to concede that the statements were false, but (1) they caused no significant damage and (2) they were protected free speech. When those arguments proved to be nonsense, he must have regretted all of the concessions he made in his original stipulations. Of course his current statements to the press are additional examples of the very thing he was sued for, but I suppose there’s not much point in filing another suit against a guy who already owes you $148 million and probably doesn’t have a pot to piss in.

The saddest thing about this poor, pathetic fuck is that he probably could have settled for some reasonable compensation and a public apology. That was the strategy of his original co-defendants, One America News Network.

This is new to me.

From the article:

From 1928 until 1932, the giant character balloons were released at the end of the parade route. A New York Times article from 1928 noted how Sarg was on hand to direct the release of the balloons as they sailed off into the sky with “peculiar gyrations and almost life-like expressions.” A report from 1931 describes a blue hippopotamus being swept away “within inches of the Empire State Building” before heading west toward Brooklyn. A dragon balloon was spotted “sailing merrily over the Battery in the direction of Governors Island.” A release valve was added to the balloons to allow for a slow leak of air, allowing them to stay aloft for up to a week after the parade. In 1928, a character balloon was found in Greenville, Connecticut, nearly 160 miles from where it was originally released.

And it’s Durward Kirby. Who knew he was still alive? He made it by being the only person to have a cartoon hat named after him.

Nah. He would be 112 if still alive. I’m sure you know who it really is.

“This year, something shifted. To discuss her movements felt like discussing politics or the weather—a language spoken so widely it needed no context. She became the main character of the world.”

True enough. I don’t think I’ve ever heard one of her songs all the way through, and could not name one, but I seem to have discussions about her every day. I don’t know how that happened, or even exactly why, but it did.

She is the first person ever to become a billionaire from music alone, according to Forbes. Think about that. Paul McCartney didn’t make it. Bruce Springsteen didn’t make it. (Rihanna, Jay Z and Jimmy Buffett made it to a billion, but from their other businesses.) That’s how influential and rich she has become. Bigger than The Boss.

NOTE: Many sources disagree with Forbes and say that McCartney beat her to a net worth of a billion from his music alone. That can’t be verified, because the negotiations between McCartney, SONY, and the Michael Jackson estate are not public information. Be that as it may, in McCartney’s case a billion amounts to about a dollar a year for a billion years. Swift made it at age 33.

The top of the list is obvious. We all know that there’s fun to be had in Vegas, Orlando, Miami, The Big Apple, The Big Easy, Austin, etc.

What I’m interested in is the bottom of the list. What is the least fun place in America? According to their metrics, the not-hot spot in the Lower 48 is South Burlington, Vermont. That’s hard to believe, because while you’re there it is only a ten-minute drive to the World’s Tallest Filing Cabinet. (Adjoining Burlington, the actual location of the Filing Cabinet Extraordinaire, is also ranked in the bottom quarter.)

The absolute lowest is Pearl City, Hawaii, which is just around the corner from one of the most fun cities, Honolulu. That’s kind of the story of America, isn’t it?

There are plenty of places larger than South Burlington that simply are not on the list, for whatever reason. The place that I call Wisconsin’s dullest city, Fond du Lac, should be able to match South Burlington for sheer boredom, but was not evaluated.

“WWE legend Sunny, whose real name is Tammy Sytch, was sentenced Monday to nearly two decades in prison and nearly a decade of probation for a deadly DUI crash in Florida last year.”

The woman we see today is pretty much unrecognizeable as the 1990s rasslin’ diva. I lost track of her DUI arrests several years ago, but the fatal crash was something like her 7th DUI. At a point like that, judges tend to view the defendants as incorrigible and a menace to society.

Rest assured that there is a very good reason:

The company has acknowledged to passengers that it has no ship

That does seem like a major obstacle to a successful cruise, not to mention a significant impediment to success in the cruise indiustry in general.

Joking aside, this is a nightmare for the passengers who signed up, many of whom sold or rented out their homes in anticipation of living at sea for three years. Furthermore, the company waited so long to make the announcement that many passengers are stranded in the original departure city.

Today is the 60th anniversary of the Kennedy Assassination.

November 22, 1963. Seeing that date in writing still gives me the chills, even when it is abbreviated to simply November 22.

It’s strange to see how unimportant that date is to younger people, even though it remains possibly the most memorable day of our lives for me and my classmates. We were just the right age – old enough to worship JFK as the eloquent, dashing young hero-President who got us through the Cuban Missile Crisis and let his adorable kids play in the Oval Office, but not old enough to be cynical about his recklessness, or his philandering, or anything else that would have shattered the myth of Camelot.

Since he was our unsullied idol, his death was elevated to an immeasurable level of tragedy. For us, he was Achilles, the seemingly invulnerable icon somehow brought down by a cheap shot, and there was nothing to limit our sadness. Because we shared our grief with an entire nation, our feelings were echoed again and again by our relatives and by every talking head on every TV channel across the republic. We were bathed in sorrow, immersed in our sense of loss. The limitless resonance of those feelings made that weekend more memorable than the times when I lost my parents or my dearest friends.

When I look at the calendar and see that it is November 22nd, all of those memories return as if they had happened last week, yet for those in subsequent generations, it’s just the day between the 21st and the 23rd. I suppose life works like that.

– December 7th was that kind of day, but no longer resonates the way it did for The Greatest Generation.

– For at least two generations, April 14th was that kind of day, and then it wasn’t. I can always remember that Lincoln was killed in April because it was when lilacs last in the dooryard bloom’d, but it’s not in the top of my mind that it happened on the 14th, or that it happened on Good Friday. When I see the date April 14 on the calendar, it doesn’t give me the kind of chills I experience when I see “November 22” in writing.

For those of us in the early boomer demographic, November 22nd is our day, our generation’s, more even than September 11th. Perhaps for me, it reverberates even more than December 25th or July 4th because it is so personal, so particular to our age group and our most powerful, enduring memories.

Elon Musk’s SpaceX Starship was forced to self-destruct in a second launch disaster

This brings back a lot of memories. When I was in elementary school, the teachers would often wheel an old B&W television into the room so we could watch the latest NASA launch. Failure followed failure (see video below). It seemed to us that we would never have a successful one.

But take heart, Elon. Within about a decade of those early failures, Neil Armstrong and the Buzzer were strolling on the moon and returning safely.