Daylight exacerbates warning. (Thanks to Metafilter for this one)

At first my bullshit detector started screaming. “Can anyone be this dumb?” There are certainly ways to generate your own fake newspaper clippings. Perhaps it’s just that.

Oh no. A quick Google search for the Arkansas Democrat Gazette found that it’s not only a real newspaper (for certain values of real, I suppose), but that you can search through their archives. And search I did! So yes, a letter with this headline does, in fact, exist. I do not, however, want to pay $1.95 to actually read it. (Seriously, $1.95? I might consider paying that much for a letter or article from the Washington Post or BBC websites…but frackin’ Arkansas? Get over yourselves.)

Update: A free version of their archives. Interesting business plan.

My favorite part:

“Perhaps this is another plot by a Liberal Congress to make us believe that global warming is a real threat.”

NEVER MIND that this whole daylight saving foofarah was passed by a Republican congress, and a Republican president signed off on it. It is truly amazing how quickly we forget who was in power for so long.

And I guess if anyone wants to contact the writer and ask them about global warmning, they can do so.

Vote Yes For the Sake Of Marriage.

blah blah blah children blah blah blah traditional families blah blah blah

Seriously, just come right out and say it:

Vote Yes on #1, Because You Hate Fags

See how much easier that is? And it leaves no ambiguity about what you mean.

Damnit, people, what is wrong with you? I keep hearing, over and over this morning, about the fucking commercials during the super bowl.

“Oh, I really liked that one for blah blah blah.”
“Did you see the one where yadda yadda?”
“The commercial for product X cured my herpes…it’s a miracle!”

And so on.

They’re commercials. Advertisers spend millions of dollars trying to pimp out their worthless crap, and you’re eating it up like pudding. Some of you morons are watching a fucking game just to see them. Why? The other 364 days out of the year, you hit the fast-forward button on your DVR as soon as a commercial comes on.

What. The. Fuck?

Have you ever read a magazine for the ads? Do you purposely try to find the most banner-filled website, and go to that all the time? It just doesn’t make any sense.

Okay, so the gist of this story is that someone is ripping off people by selling a PB&J for $6.50 and a bowl of Corn Flakes for $7.50. (That someone would actually pay that much is an amazing act of stupidity…but oh well, people are stupid.) What I found odd was this:

THERE’S AN E-MAIL bumping around cyberspace that, because gas prices are approaching $3 per gallon, tries to put things in perspective on your next trip to the pump. In an effort to soothe your angst, the missive points out that Lipton Iced Tea costs $9.52 per gallon, and Gatorade costs $10.17 per gallon. Diet Snapple? $10.32 per gallon.

Who the fuck is paying that much for Lipton Iced Tea? You can buy a box of tea bags for less than four bucks, and that box makes gallons and gallons of iced tea. If you’re going to complain about the price of something, try not picking items that you can make yourself for a lot less…you just end up looking like a fool paying for water, packaging and shipping. Same thing goes for the Gatorade, although I have no idea how much a package of the powder costs, so maybe it is closer to $10.17/gallon, but I doubt it.

Oh, and this isn’t direted to the writer of the article, it’s directed to whomever wrote the e-mail she was quoting. The author was smart and pointed out the folly in comparing the relative prices of gas and iced tea, seeing as how your car doesn’t run on iced tea.

Ah, the race card.

“In the last two or three years, the rookie of the year has a been a high school player. There were seven high school players in the All-Star game, so why we even talking an age limit?” said O’Neal, who was drafted out of high school in 1996 by the Portland Trail Blazers.

“As a black guy, you kind of think that’s the reason why it’s coming up. You don’t hear about it in baseball or hockey. To say you have to be 20, 21 to get in the league, it’s unconstitutional. If I can go to the U.S. army and fight the war at 18, why can’t you play basketball for 48 minutes?”

So much about the Constitution that I never knew! Somewhere, enshrined in that document, is my right to play professional sports. What an absolutely amazing document. No wonder our country kicks so much ass! I’ll bet the Iraqis won’t find that in their constitution.

Although what’s really scary is the idea that maybe, just maybe, the NBA is trying to encourage kids to stay in school and develop some skills that will help them after their career-ending injuries. Or not. I can’t really imagine any sports league caring that much about its players.

“No, ma’am, I’m not sending the deputies down their over a cheeseburger…” [Windows Media]

I can not vouch for the authenticity of this tape. But I did work at a Burger King for a couple of years, in a small college town, mostly full of spoiled rich kids who made demands as if getting a cheap Whopper was enshrined in the Constitution. So I can certainly see how this call would have been made in the first place.

And let me just give some kudos to this 911 dispatcher for the way she handled the call. Did you ever know, that you’re my hero?

[Link via Pandagon]

Schindlers’ lawyer: Legal fight near end

In his five-page decision Saturday, Greer said that Schiavo’s parents had failed to meet the burden of proof necessary to prove their latest assertion: that Terri Schiavo had attempted to verbalize “I want to live.”

The motion filed by Schiavo’s parents motion said, “She managed to articulate the first two vowel sounds, first articulating AHHHHHHH and then virtually screaming WAAAAAAAA.”

But virtually no chance she was trying to say “I want to die”, I’m sure.

Mitty’s on a Tuesday is where 16-year-olds learn the shag with 78-year-olds.

Ah, quality journalism, brought to you by the Daily Press.

From an article about the Left Behind series of books in Harper’s Magazine:

Seeking a better view of the action, Rayford abandons his ATV for a Hummer, “riding shotgun,” which, write Jenkins and LaHaye in something less than a Proustian reverie, “transported him back to college when he and his fraternity brothers would compete to call the favored seat, sometimes as much as twenty-four hours before a trip.” [Emphasis mine]

Now, I’m sorry. But calling shotgun 24 hours in advance? We all know that’s BS. How can I accept a story from an author who obviously doesn’t even understand the basic rules of shotgun? Sheesh.

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