The sentence begins: “The New York Police Department said its beekeepers division …”
Is ABC looking for a new scripted series? Police Beekeeper sounds like a winner to me. In an earlier day, I can see Leslie Nielsen gunning down the bees one-by-one with his police-issue 38 special.
The saga of the rugged Police Beekeepers reminds me of my own most famous acting role in The Battlin’ Bellhops, a partially fictionalized story about the legendary 603rd Airborne, which played such an important role in the liberation of Luxembourg. All of the members of that brave battalion of enlistees were former hotel bellmen, and most were just barely old enough to serve, yet they became lionized not only for their courage in battle, but for their steadfast unwillingness to accept tips from the liberated populations. They always stirred the Europeans when they marched into liberated towns wearing their little round red caps in lieu of standard military headgear. I had the supporting role of Skeeter, the naive and doomed German-American kid from Brooklyn who got separated from his unit and was mistakenly shot by an American sentry. The MP heard Skeeter speaking German to the locals and became convinced he was a spy, a suspicion which turned into certainty when Skeeter could not correctly identify the name of the famous Brooklyn baseball team. His crusty “sarge” delivered the funeral oration, in which he declared Skeeter to be “a swell kid, and a real great American, even though he obviously wasn’t much of a baseball fan.”
“Toyota is recalling its first mainstream electric car because the wheels can fall off.”
But the radio works great!
There goes my plan for the weekend at Uncle Bert’s farm.
You probably think I’m kidding. Well, not the part about the CDC:
There is no advice on wild poultry – or even front yard poultry.
Ignored? Even the sheep? Even in Arkansas?
“Biologists love penises,” writes Rachel Gross in “Vagina Obscura,” noting that the vagina has typically been given short shrift.
Writing for the majority, Judge Kavanaugh commented on the decision, “I like beer.”
“A court heard how the dad-of-six had 26 previous convictions for a whopping 159 offences“
“THE has been a rallying cry in the Ohio State community for many years.”
Damn! I already had my football uniforms ordered for THE Other Crap University. Our rallying cry is “Makes Trump U seem legit.” Since all of our students are in their 50s through 70s, we don’t have much of a football team, but we do beat Rutgers every year.
“Putin’s Bodyguards Collect His Excrement On Trips Abroad To Hide Possible Health Problems”
If ever an article was intended for Other Crap …
See the comments for an interesting addition.
And not a moment too soon! I hope the inventor has space on his mantel to display that Nobel Prize.
The award for the best bullshit of the day (so far) goes to the Velveeta brand manager:
VELVEETA is known for its rich, creamy texture and cheesy, melty goodness, so what better way to bring this to life for our fans than with something equally as rich and creamy — nail polish.
Well then, maybe we need to start some new traditions. We need not be bound by the past. Who is thinking about the future?
Specifying the donut shop makes it a very narrow ruling. What about the right to walk to a convenience store with genitals out? Surely that must be one of the great traditions of liberty.
What can you say? Scottsdale is a tough town. Or as Latka used to say, America is a tough town.
To be fair, that is one humongous shitpile of bananas.
“The 24-hour waiting period, which would begin the moment dispatchers received their first 911 call, would help police be ‘100% certain’ that protecting the public was prudent.”
Hey, we should be good at this sport in Wisconsin. We have the cheese.
Now if only we had hills.
“The licensing company that controls the name and image of ‘The King’ is ordering Sin City chapel operators to stop using Elvis in themed ceremonies.”
Many operators claim that making the changes could bankrupt them. I think they could avoid any additional costs, keeping all the same signs and ads by switching to Elvis Costello-themed weddings.
there is no limit to the number of guns you can own in texas but there IS a limit to the number of dildos you can own (5)
— nicole tersigni (@nicsigni) May 26, 2022
When Ted Cruz was the Solicitor General in Texas, his office argued the following before the U.S. Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals:
“There is no substantive-due-process right to stimulate one’s genitals for non-medical purposes unrelated to procreation or outside of an interpersonal relationship.”
Way to go, Science.
By the way, I can achieve this same effect with human women by criticizing Dirty Dancing.
…. Speaking of the march of science, the pinnacle of human scientific achievement may have been reached – “Artificial Intelligence Can Now Accurately Describe Your Poop.” Now that we’ve reached that point, humanity should have smooth sailin’ from now on. It’s gratifying. All this time I thought those scientists were simply wasting their time trying to alleviate human suffering.
“Winnie the Pooh: Blood and Honey” Director Teases Slasher Film Plot
“Winnie the Pooh: Blood and Honey” will see Pooh and Piglet as “the main villains…going on a rampage” after being abandoned by a college-bound Christopher Robin. “Christopher Robin is pulled away from them, and he’s not [given] them food, it’s made Pooh and Piglet’s life quite difficult.”
I loved that flavor – so creamy because it’s whipped.
I have to say that this flavor could be a good promotion under two conditions:
If it was really dark chocolate.
If it was totally free starting on June 19th.
Talk about a Freudian slip!
“A TikToker claiming to be a time traveller from 2236 has issued a stark warning to their followers, including a claim that Europe will be struck by a “deadly meteor” in autumn.”
They traveled back in time just to set up a TikTok account.
So, humanity doesn’t change much.
Oh, sure, the U.S. Constitution defends this, but this is deeper than man’s law. The right to advertise beer with penis imagery was dictated by god himself. I believe you can find it in St Paul’s letter to the Dalmatians, 4:20.
Curiously, the Dalmatians never wrote back.
I guess they knew how to pick their spots.
FINALLY… YOUR 2022 COVER QUEENS! https://t.co/KTz5tWUK11
— Sports Illustrated Swimsuit (@SI_Swimsuit) May 16, 2022
There have always been places where men and boys have to sit and wait, like the dentist’s office, or the old-fashioned barber shop. Only one thing made these waits tolerable. Buried under piles of magazines like US, Highlights for Children, and 51 dog-eared S.I. issues about regattas and tennis, there was a copy of a true American treasure: the Swimsuit Edition. It was marketed with some flim-flam about fitness or buying swimware for our wives, but we knew that the editors delivered that pretext with a wink and a nudge. Its true purpose was to give us an opportunity to ogle fantasy women in a respectable publication that you would not be embarrassed to read in public, even while sitting next to your minister. In this innocent context could you gaze at beautiful, unspoiled, unattainable young women, their supermodel bodies clad only in the scantiest of outfits. Sometimes they wore no outfits at all, but simply strutted around naked, their exposure disguised by a coat of paint so thin that its only purpose was to prevent our dentist’s receptionist from tossing the issue away in disgust.
Like many other great ogling traditions, its time has passed. The women no longer have to be young, or natural, or in possession of supermodel perfection. Your granny could make the edition now, maybe even the cover. Ditto the cousin that your mom always called “big-boned,” and praised for her personality. Ditto that kinda-cute Starbucks barista you dated once or twice, until you realized she had foul coffee breath, bad implants, and tattoos of weapons.
The models are no longer unattainable fantasy women of the sort that can only be bedded by men with Brad Pitt looks and/or Jeff Bezos bankrolls. In coarse terms, the S.I. Swimsuit Edition is filled with women that even internet schmucks like us, if we put in the time and resources, could actually fuck.
And that, in many ways, represents the collapse of the last, best pillar of the mighty temple of Western Civilization that was so painstakingly constructed by lustful architects from Homer to Hefner.
You Belgians may have the Manneken Pis, but we have the Maninblack Pis.
That’s a great line. I wish I had thought of it, but I swiped it from the comments section. Also from the comments section, here’s another classic from the same genre: Johnny Cash, Not Wearing Black, in a Bush eating Cake.
This is probably the least popular in the Cash-Cake-Book series. I guess my favorite is Johnny Cash in a cake, eating bush.