“Cocoa Puffs And Lucky Charms Won’t Be Sold In Iceland Anymore”
They could handle the volcanoes and COVID, but this is just too much for one beleaguered nation.
Category: Nonsense
“A Labrador Retriever leaps up and grabs a weather reporter’s microphone from her grasp during live TV weather report.” (It looks like a mature golden retriever to me, not a lab.)
OK, pet videos aren’t my thing, but I got soft because this is cute. The “pitch” above buries the lede, which is the hilarious chase when the reporter tries to get the mic back and the dog just takes off with her in furious pursuit. It definitely needs Yakety Sax.
“He’s taking some over-the-top precautions to stay COVID-free. Or it’s a joke. I dunno. Either way, it’s extra straight man theatrics.”
“USSTRATCOM issued an apology in a follow-up tweet and asked users to disregard the previous post.”
It’s a roomy 50,000 square feet with 360 degree ocean views.
(There are even seven extra bedrooms for your staff!)
“Tulsa County Sheriff’s Office deputies arrested 29-year-old Badlands McNally after authorities stopped to talk to him about the plane he was using.”
Hey, Dad McNally, when you named your kid “Badlands,” did you think that he’d become a philosopher or maybe go to dental school? Of course he smuggles Meth. It was either that or pro wrestling.
This is the rare occasion when one of the most sacred holidays of Christianity occurs on the same day as one of the most sacred holidays of Scoopianity. The Sunday after next is Easter, and is also Giant Pink Japanese Penis Day. The countdown begins.
(Because of COVID, Giant Pink Japanese Penis Day will probably not be very festive for the second straight year.)
“At least 186 people in Taiwan changed their legal name to ‘salmon’ this week in order to take part in a restaurant deal offering free sushi to anyone named after the fish.”
Follow-up:
“Taiwan official urges people to stop changing their name to ‘salmon’“
“Cheese skipper flies, Piophila casei, lay their eggs in cracks that form in cheese, usually fiore sardo, the island’s salty pecorino. Maggots hatch, making their way through the paste, digesting proteins in the process, and transforming the product into a soft creamy cheese. Then the cheesemonger cracks open the top — which is almost untouched by maggots — to scoop out a spoonful of the creamy delicacy. It’s not a moment for the faint-hearted. At this point, the grubs inside begin to writhe frantically.”
I have to disqualify this year’s entire competition by invoking the Pecker Rule.
In my senior year of college we had our traditional vote for the douchebag of the year. My roommate, the Pecker, who was one of the election officials, tore up one of the ballots because none of the voter’s top ten choices included Fat Joe Carlson. This voter was disqualified for his obvious and complete ignorance, given that Carlson was not just a big, fat, fucking douchebag, but was the biggest, fattest, fuckingest, douchebaggiest guy in the history of Fordham University, which was no small achievement, because Donald Trump had preceded us there.
Invoking that precedent, I have to invalidate the Razzie ballot for its failure to nominate James Corden.
Ah, Science, is there no limit to thy wonders?
“Men perceived women with nipple erection as more deserving of altruism, especially if that altruism involved greater interaction with the woman.”
“Apparently Lola Bunny wasn’t the only Looney Tunes character who got a major visual makeover for the upcoming Space Jam sequel, Space Jam: A New Legacy. But at least Lola is still on the team! Pepe Le Pew’s makeover was a head-to-toe situation in that he was removed completely from the film.”
“Sources add that Warner Bros. planned to acknowledge Pepe’s reputation as a serial harasser and use it as a lesson about consent. The only problem is, the scene allegedly begins with Pepe sexually harassing a woman.”
They plan to worship Charles next.
I know how they feel. I once belonged to a cult that worshiped Spiro Agnew. When Spiggy passed away, thus proving himself mortal, they pinned their homes for immortality on former baseball commissioner Bowie Kuhn, but it just wasn’t the same for me.
At last, some sensible laws! Kudos to the UK.
Noise officers said they also received specific complaints about Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton’s Islands in the Stream.
I wonder what the charge would be for singing Terry Jacks.
Or even for singing the original Jacques Brel version of Seasons in the Sun:
I think the (loose) translation to English was actually written by the alleged singer/songwriter Rod McKuen, who was covered in even thicker treacle than Terry Jacks, if that was even possible. His song “Jean” is one of the few that can reasonably be presented as a counter argument when “Seasons in the Sun” is held up as the worst ever.
“A mister no more: Mr. Potato Head goes gender neutral,”
“Teen reunited with Civil War reenacting rooster he lost outside Cracker Barrel”
This is not to be confused with the most Canadian headline ever: “Woman hits moose on way to visit sister who hit moose“
“Cereal flakes frosted with cocaine seized”
Fuck Folgers. THIS is the best part of waking up.
I love to write about the obscure underbelly of baseball, about guys like:
Bob “Hurricane” Hazle, a mediocre minor leaguer who had a miraculous dream-come-true season in the majors.
or
Frank Saucier, an amazingly accomplished man, and a potentially great baseball talent with a .380 lifetime minor league average, who had an embarrassing major league career, the highlight of which was that a dwarf pinch-hit for him.
I have planned other similar stories that sit as yet incomplete. I set aside tons of research to write about others like Floyd Giebell, Moonlight Graham (I assume you know who he was, thanks to Field of Dreams), and a certain Chicago schoolboy legend named Randall Poffo.
As you can see from the article below, young master Poffo was a serious and handsome lad who was once considered the best high school baseball player in the entire Chicago area. Some say he might have become a great star, except that a serious injury forced the right-handed kid to learn to throw left-handed, and therefore forced him to switch from catcher to first base or the outfield. (No catchers throw left-handed.) After the switch, his White Sox coach told him he threw like a girl. In spite of those obstacles, he managed to last four seasons in the minors.
What made him so friggin’ interesting? Well, it was the fact that he eventually became a household name, one of the greatest all-time superstars in a very different form of athletic endeavor. He is better known to the world as The Macho Man, Randy Savage.
I actually kinda knew him because he was the main man for Slim Jims and my company (7-Eleven) was their biggest customer. I took a picture with him at the Slim Jim hospitality suite of a convention, but he never came out of character then. Later that night, I ran into him in a strip club when he was in civvies and de-machoed, and we had a great talk about baseball!
I also spent a lot of time one evening talking to The Ultimate Warrior (and his beautiful girlfriend). Mr. Warrior appeared to be a very pleasant, intelligent and laid-back man, although some fans and some of his colleagues didn’t care for him. Maybe I got to him before ‘roid rage kicked in. It was kinda weird to talk to him because he was dressed in character with the face paint and the bare bulging muscles, but he walked up to me and introduced himself as “Jim.”
Ol’ Jim has shrugged off the mortal coil now, as has Randy. Neither lived to blow out the candles on his 60th birthday.