If this happened to me I would be really pissed. Then terrified. Then pissed again.

Video here.

A kid who grew up across the street from me just got busted for growing $2 million worth of weed in his apartment. I haven’t seen him since we were in 4th grade. One time we were playing TurboGrafx-16 and his grandpa busted into the room and started beating the living shit out of him, so I went home.

We were playing Splatterhouse.

Here’s his MySpace profile – note the url. Very subtle, Tony.

On any given day teenagers perform countless spontaneous acts of stupidity. But how many of those stupid, spontaneous acts generate highbrow discussions about free speech that end up going all the way to the Supreme Court? In the seven years of my own personal teendom, I can say with confidence that I was involved in over 1,000 acts of a stupid and spontaneous nature, and not a single one of them did anything but get me either wounded or grounded. That means that less than .1% of all stupid and spontaneous acts performed by teenagers generate highbrow discussions about free speech and end up going all the way to the Supreme Court.

QED.

I’m not touching this one with a ten-footer. No sir… not gonna bite. Not saying a word about it. Nothing funny about it. Nothing at all. That’s pretty much straight-up child abuse, swinging a baby like a bat. And child abuse isn’t funny. Nope. Nothing funny about swinging a baby like a bat. Nothing funny about that at all.

I’m admittedly at least a week behind the rest of the internet in posting anything about Kenneth Eng, self-declared “Asian supremacist” and “God of the Universe.” Sure, his little column was bigoted and insensitive, but taken at face value that’s not really much of a story. What would I title the post? “Asian Guy Hates Blacks?” What a snoozer! I had the whole thing written off last week as a news blip, a sensational morsel in the sea of info insanity. Then I found out that he has an Amazon blog and once wrote a book called “Dragons: Lexicon Triumvirate.” Suddenly, my interested was piqued. “Dragons: Lexicon Triumvirate?” Really? Let me reiterate:

“Dragons: Lexicon Triumvirate.”

Brain asploded.

Here’s a quote from his blog on the subject of religion:

“Let’s look at the muslim religion. They believe that music, dance, naked women and other such things are “indecent”. They think that some creature called “allah” will bring them peace, yadda, yadda, yadda. They think that if they bow every day, they will somehow be transported to a place called “heaven”, where everyone looks conspicuously human. I don’t know about you, but I masturbate all the time. It’s not going to affect me in any way, aside from making me need to take baths more often. And listening to O Fortuna will not make my head explode. Nor will spitting at every church I see make my intestines burst out of my abdomen.”

So now everyone is outraged, but I will forgive him for all of this because one of the dragons on the cover of his book is holding a gun. I like that.

A band from Israel called Teapacks has been getting a lot of press in the last few days over their controversial submission to the Eurovision 2007 song contest entitled “Push The Button.” The song addresses the potential threat of nuclear annihilation at the hands of an unnamed enemy of the Israeli state. Teapacks will be representing Israel at the international competition in May,

That’s the story you’ll get from any major media outlet, but they all seem to be leaving out a fairly important detail: the song totally fucking sucks (edit: and here’s a video… you know, for maximum suckage). Why can’t they be more like these guys?

The Evening Whirl has been circulating in St. Louis since 1938, which means that I missed about 70 years of the best shit ever. That bums me out, but the fact that it still exists makes me really happy, so I guess I come out pretty much even. Theres something to be said for a newspaper that refers to a rape as a “pussy plundering” and a rape victim as a “boned victim.” There’s something to be said, but I’m not totally sure what it is yet. Maybe just “wow.” Click the picture above for a bigger version.

Some dude killed 2 clowns.

It happens to everyone once in a while: there you are, clutching a bloody hammer after beating your wife, sister-in-law, and mother-in-law to death. You’re in big trouble, mister! You know what you have to do before the cops get there, but do you really think you can do yourself in the same way you just brutally murdered those three women? Try it out – ouch! That smarts, eh? What’s that? You can’t think of any other ways to commit suicide? Uh oh – you hear those sirens? Better think fast! Don’t worry, little guy – I’ve got a few ideas. It might be too late for Daryoush Ebrahimi, but here’s some suggestions for the rest of ya’ll.

– drowning yourself in a bathtub

– eat, go swimming immediately afterward

– shoot yourself in the face with a shotgun

– watch video of baby seals getting clubbed, wait for heart to break

– get depantsed in gym class, die of embarrassment (note: must actually attend some sort of gym class)

– pills, pills, more pills

– dress up like a bird egg, find one of those lizards that eat bird eggs

– hold hammer still, run into it with head

– pretty much any other method

Buzz Aldrin. Neil Armstrong. John Glenn. You already know and love these brave astronauts, but now it’s time to toss yet another hero onto the pile. Here’s looking at you, Lisa Nowak. Welcome to the space party.

Blame the failure of the NASA program – nobody’s really stomping around in space very much anymore, leaving these astronauts to wander around their hometowns bored and listless, longing for zero-gravity and that weird ice cream that you can only really get at movie theaters here on Earth (and considering the lack of quality films coming out these days compounded with rising ticket prices due to skyrocketing budgets and internet piracy, nobody really wants to go to the movies lately – not even astronauts). Under these circumstances, who could blame her for falling into a bitter love triangle with some other astronauts and then driving 950 miles in a diaper to kidnap (or possibly murder) her rival?

Take pity on Lisa Nowak, America. She was a victim of our times, a victim of love (not to mention an underfunded space program). An astronaut without a shuttle. Who among us can honestly say that under the same conditions they wouldn’t have driven from Houston to Orlando in a diaper with a BB gun, a steel mallet, a pair of black gloves, some pepper spray, rubber tubing, trash bags, and a 4-inch switchblade to try to spice things up a little?

Not you? Well fine. I wouldn’t have either, but astronauts don’t think like you or I. They think big.