« April 2007 | Main | June 2007 »

May 31, 2007

I feel safe now

This whole tuberculosis (or as I like to call it, "consumption") thing is a total mess, isn't it? First, in what can only be described as piling on, the man who flew to Europe is a lawyer. A personal injury lawyer. He did this despite suggestions or orders (depending on who you believe) not to go anywhere, then took several more flights in Europe before finally flying back to Canada to evade health authorities in the USA.

But it gets better. After flying to Canada - supposedly because he feared for his life, though I'm sure the USA would've flown him back anyway - he tried to reenter the USA in Lake Champlain, NY. This is what then transpired:

Despite warnings from federal health officials not to board another long flight, he flew home for treatment, fearing he wouldn't survive if he didn't reach the U.S., he said. He said he tried to sneak home by way of Canada instead of flying directly into the U.S.

He was quarantined May 25, a day after he was allowed to pass through the border crossing at Champlain, N.Y., along the Canadian border.

The inspector ran Speaker's passport through a computer, and a warning — including instructions to hold the traveler, don a protective mask in dealing with him, and telephone health authorities — popped up, officials said. About a minute later, Speaker was instead cleared to continue on his journey, according to officials familiar with the records.

When asked about it, the border security agent shrugged it off:

The unidentified inspector explained that he was no doctor but that the infected man seemed perfectly healthy and that he thought the warning was merely "discretionary," officials briefed on the case told The Associated Press.

Oh great googily moogily. Now, my aunt works as a border patrol agent. (Hi, if you're reading. And I know you are...) She does good work. I can't imagine any of those guys letting something like that go by, but apparently I am wrong.

I've crossed the border into Canada many times, and before 9/11 I would say most of the border agents (both Canadian and American) were downright genial. But after 9/11, they toughened up a little bit. So either this guy was let go because the agent was incompetent, or because our man with TB wasn't named Mohammad. I suspect it was a little of both. Either way, it does not make me pleased with the state of our border security.

Posted at 04:59 PM | Comments (0)

May 30, 2007

Step away from the fax

I'm manning the phones here at work, and in the past hour the phone has rung 12 times. Nine of those times have been a fax machine, beeping in all its glory. What imbecile keeps dialing a fax number when a person consistently answers on the other end? Take a hint, buddy!

Perhaps it is an automated fax machine, but that doesn't make me feel any better. It is still irritating, because I have to give my whole spiel about how can I help you, only to be told "beeeeeeeeeeep!"

Posted at 11:57 AM | Comments (1)

May 29, 2007

You asked for it

I've noticed that I've gotten about 100 hits today on this here commentary from people seeking pictures of Miss Sweden, Isabel Lestapier Winqvist, who dropped out of the Miss Universe contest on account of it being sexist, objectifying of women, and all the other stuff that makes beauty pageants fun. I haven't had this much traffic since I started getting people looking for Ryan Cabrera shirtless. Oh , those were the days.

Well, I am always one to please, so there's a nice picture of Ms. Winqvist. That further justifies my characterization of the pageant without her as "Vice Miss Universe," which may conjure images of Dick Cheney to some, but for me will always mean Hannibal Hamlin.

Please note, this is not an attempt by me to get extra hits to my site. If I had been doing that, I'd have put in words like "porn," "Miss Universe topless," "Britney Spears topless," and "Miss Sweden topless."

If you have been brought to this website trying to find one of those things, I am sorry to disappoint you. However, feel free to browse around, or send me a hate-filled email. I love those.

Posted at 05:14 PM | Comments (0)

Typical party conversation

Every drug commercial on TV also has to have a warning about side effects and who shouldn't take it. This warning is usually delivered by an omnipresent, God-like voice. Some companies, however, have tried to have the side effects presented like they are part of the normal conversation. This method fails terribly. Take, for example, this commercial for "Yaz," which is a new birth control pill that also sounds like a certain baseball Hall-of-Famer.

I don't know what it is about this commercial I don't like. Is it the setting? Is it the way a bunch of 30-something women are nodding when told not to take the pill if you have "chronic inflammatory disease"? Or is it the smug way the speaker says, "I didn't go to medical school for nothing!" If they're all going to be like this, I think I prefer the omniscient voice.

Anyway, enjoy. You might notice the commercial is a bit "doctored," but this is the only version I could find. Sorry about that:

Posted at 09:18 AM | Comments (0)

Bureaucracy at its finest

They can regulate whether there's signs for a bathroom, but I bet they don't regulate whether said bathroom is a disgusting nook with slime on the walls:

There is still a place for a little bathroom humor at McGuire's Irish Pub, under an agreement between the owners of McGuire's and the state.

Confusing signs on the bathroom doors at the pub have played jokes on customers for years — sending women to the men's room and vice versa. The signs have been up for 10 years in Destin and 30 years in Pensacola.

But, Florida's Department of Business and Professional Regulation recently threatened the Panhandle tourist landmark with closure for "Lack of signage properly designating bathrooms."

Under the agreement reached late Saturday night, the restaurants will be required to install an additional set of doors to prevent any embarrassing incidents.

Posted at 09:14 AM | Comments (0)

May 25, 2007

Why bother?

With Sweden out of this thing, is there even really a point? Won't this be more like the Vice Miss Universe Pageant?

This year's Miss Universe pageant is missing one of its most noted contestants: Miss Sweden, a statuesque blonde whose country is one of the few to win the crown three times.

Isabel Lestapier Winqvist, 20, has dropped out because Swedes say the Miss Universe competition, airing live Monday night from Mexico City's National Auditorium, is degrading to women and weighed down by scandals.

"We're taking a big beating by being linked to it," said Panos Papadopoulos, the organizer of the Miss Sweden contest, which scrapped its swimsuit competition and allowed women to apply for the position like any other job after heavy criticism from feminists.

Posted at 04:43 PM | Comments (1)

May 24, 2007

Craigslist ad of the day

Whenever I can't think of anything to write here, I'll just post my favorite Craigslist ad. I think this is a joke, but still an interesting way to get the attention of a missed connection:

Beast 4 Female - m4w - 27
Reply to: pers-337609213@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-05-24, 2:53PM CDT

Would you please comeover and comb my back/chest hair?

Let me know how that one goes, please.

Posted at 08:40 PM | Comments (0)

May 22, 2007

They call me Mister Tibbs!

[Pic]

Growing up, my dad and my little brother were big into reptiles.

At some time or another, we had a caimen (which is like a little alligator), an iguana, a gecko, a skink, tortoises, turtles, and salamanders. No snakes though.

The funny thing about this is that they never really had names. They were always Mister so-and-so. The caimen was Mr. Caimen. The iguana was Mr. Iguana. I always thought it was disrespectful. I mean, even on the Planet of the Apes, the humans got names!

But they're still known by that. We still talk about Mr. Caimen, mostly because he was bad-ass. My dad would feed him pinkies, which are a nicer way of saying "frozen baby mice." We kept him in a big aquarium in the basement, and people would come to see him as a curiosity.

One day about thirteen years ago, Mr. Caimen got sick and died. My dad decided to perform an autopsy, and had me and my little brother assist him. [Fun fact... Somebody once asked my dad if he wanted to run for county coroner. He didn't.] Well, everything was going fine until we severed an artery and bright red blood started pouring into Mr. Caimen's chest cavity, or whatever you would call it on a lizard. Thorax? Anyway, we wrapped him up in towels, and then he had one last final indignity: my dad stored Mr. Caimen in the freezer, where he remained for an unknown period of time. I am certain he is no longer in that freezer. However, I am not going to look.

Personally, I think he died of a lonely heart. For, alas, there was no Mrs. Caimen.

Posted at 10:33 PM | Comments (0)

May 21, 2007

The man's guide to small talk

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. If you've ever spent time with me, you know I hate small talk. I suspect most men do. I've kind of figured it out, too. I know why I hate it: because men usually like to talk about two things: sports and women. Occasionally we'll want to talk about beer or partying. But, generally, that is not what I like to talk about. I have much more discerning tastes. I would much rather talk about parallel parking, for example.

So, I think I've boiled this whole thing down into a few topics that if you are able to reply to, you will be able to hold your own in small talk with another man.

Let's get to sports, first.

What's the ultimate guy sport? Football. There's a few things you can always talk about with football: the quarterback, the coach, and the draft.

First, there's the quarterback. Be sure you know the local quarterback. Here's what you do: say to the guy, "So, it's not looking good for [local football team.]" It doesn't matter if that team just won the Super Bowl... There's always a reason they are going to suck next year. Know what that reason is? The quarterback sucks. When the other guy says, "not lookin' good," you say, "That's cause they gotta get rid of [local team's quarterback]." It doesn't matter who the quarterback is. He sucks. There are a few exceptions, like Joe Montana. But please be aware that Joe Montana is now 50 years old, so the exception is no longer relevant. By the time a quarterback is so entrenched that he can no longer be accused of sucking, he is too old and actually does suck.

Sometimes you'll run into a guy who is a fan of a non-local team. Like me, for example. I love the Buffalo Bills. I don't give a hoot about the Bears. What do you do with somebody like that? It's simple. Know who his team's quarterback is. Then you preface it with, "I hear..." So, if I met a guy who is a Seattle Seahawks fan, you need to say, "I hear Matt Hasselback sucks." Like I said, it doesn't matter if he actually is any good or not. He probably sucks.

Now, to deliver the coup de grace, you need to reference an old player on the out of town's team, preferably one who was very good in one of Tecmo Bowl games. I'd say to the Seahawks fan, "You sure could use Steve Largent back, couldn't you? That guy could play." Or maybe you' run into a KC Chiefs fan. You'd say, "I hear Trent Green sucks. You sure could use Christian Okoye, couldn't you? That guy was insane on Tecmo Bowl!"

You can follow a similar process with the team's coach. "[Local team's coach] sucks. He should have benched [local team's quarterback] after Week 2."

The draft is trickier. You need some knowledge about all the players in the draft, but it's usually good to know about the quarterbacks. It's also good to know about the more obscure but important positions, like offensive tackle. That way, you can talk about the draft. The other guy will probably say, "Boy, they should've taken [highly-ranked college quarterback.]" Then you could drop the bomb: "Yeah, [local team's quarterback] sucks, but I wish they had taken [350-lb lineman.] That guy's a tree stump. You can't move him."

Unfortunately, this whole conversation will take about 30 seconds, which is shorter than the amount of time I took to explain it. Luckily, there's girls to talk about.

Where do guys usually hang out? In bars. What else is in bars? Girls. So what do you talk about? Girls.

Suppose you and your new friend have just finished talking about sports. A girl walks by. It doesn't matter what she looked like. You can say a few things: "That girl had nice [boobs/legs/ass.]" If all three are nice, you say, "Holy shit, there goes a ten." Sometimes you'll see a girl with comically misshapen body parts, whereupon you say something like, "Good God, look at those [boobs/legs/ass.] Put down the sandwich!"

Sometimes you'll both know the same girl. You have to tread carefully here, because your counterpart may be more acquainted with her than you. When you talk about her, it will go something like this: "So you know [girl.] Yeah, she's a cool chick." You'd then probably talk about her boobs/legs/ass. Now here's where it gets tricky: you then usually say something like, "Yeah, I also hear she's [crazy/psycho/a whore.]" Please note the difference between crazy and psycho: crazy is wild, like she enjoys partying and being rambunctious. Psycho is calling all hours of the night, threatening other girls, etc.. Like I said, be careful. You don't want to call somebody's friend a psycho or a whore.

Now, unfortunately, this whole process will again take about 30 seconds. So that is a good minute of conversation there. The only suggestion I have is to hope there are lots of girls where you are, because then you have endless fodder for comment. That's all I can tell you. Godspeed you, small talker.

Posted at 06:25 PM | Comments (0)

May 18, 2007

What if?

Some doctor is giving a presentation at a conference about Lincoln's chances of survival if modern medical care was available when John Wilkes Booth shot him:

Abraham Lincoln might have survived being shot if today's medical technology had existed in 1865.


Given that scenario, the question is whether Lincoln would have recovered well enough to return to office, says a doctor and historian who planned to speak Friday at an annual University of Maryland School of Medicine conference on the deaths of historic figures.


While the conference has traditionally re-examined the deaths of historic figures to determine if the diagnosis of the time was correct, this year's event asks if Lincoln could have been saved and what impact that would have had.


Thomas Scalea, the physician in chief at the University of Maryland's Shock Trauma Center, said brain injuries are unpredictable but Lincoln would have stood a good chance of surviving.

That's all well and good... I think Lincoln could have pulled through, too. This reminds me of President James Garfield's demise, which most definitely would have been prevented by modern medical care. The late, great website History House (which REALLY needs to come back) describes the shenanigans that occured after Charles Guiteau popped Garfield in the back:

At 5:30 PM that day, the doctors removed Garfield's blood-stained suit. They gave him a glass of champagne, which he promptly threw up, and continued to throw up every half hour until morning. Navy Surgeon General Wales stuck his finger in the wound, and proclaimed the bullet had hit the President's liver. Some time early the next morning, Dr. Frank H. Hamilton of New York stuck his finger in the wound, but encountered a clot and thought better of it. In all, some fifteen doctors had their fingers in Garfield's side over the course of the evening. A medical journal editorial offered, "If there is any criticism to be offered from a medical point of view, it is that there were too many physicians in attendance during the first 24 hours... there is always danger to the patient when too many medical heads are put together."

...

Garfield's diet was not one for a man with a poor stomach. He received beefsteak, eggs, and brandy daily. Soon he was vomiting continuously, and to stave off his weight loss (he had lost some 80 pounds in six short weeks), his doctors opted for nutritional enemas. They mixed together an egg, one ounce of boullion, one and a half ounces of milk, a half ounce of whiskey, and ten drops of opium and inserted this stew into the President's rectum. Needless to say, this strategy proved ineffective. The doctors operated to remove the bullet, and, not finding it, opted instead to insert pus drainage tubes. Someone stole bone fragments taken from the President's body afterwards, perhaps as momentoes. The doctors released promising news to the press, and recorded their own dismal expectations in their private journals. The press, to its credit, quickly grew skeptical of the reports and suspected the President's death was near.

Posted at 02:45 PM | Comments (1)

May 17, 2007

Next, indeed

I'm supposed to be writing a take home final right now, but I've been distracted by Next on MTV. I couldn't believe the contestant on the show this time. Usually both the male and female contestants are d-bags, but the guy this time may have been the biggest dumbass of them all.

First, he had his dates ride a mechanical bull. Eventually he turned up the bull so that the poor girl would fall off. The first time he did it, he didn't even help the girl up after she fell facefirst onto the mat. Instead, he simply nexted her! So the next girl comes along, and she too gets tossed from the bull. Again, no help, but he decides to keep her around.

After a tractor race - can you say hick? - he takes his date for a meal of cheese fries. This is where it gets interesting. The girl says she likes chocolate, and then he asks her if she likes about 10 different types of chocolate. THEN, he says, "so were you ever fat?" She says yes, and then he says that he too used to be fat, and his only friend was the Burger King. After the fat conversation, he thinks they have bonded and asks her for a second date. Naturally, she turns him down.

Now, everyone knows I am not the smoothest guy in the world. But I do know a couple of things: you don't throw girls off mechanical bulls, you don't mention anything about her being fat, and you probably shouldn't feed her cheese fries if you are trying to impress her. Honestly, I'm surprised she didn't walk away after the whole mechanical bull thing.

Posted at 12:32 AM | Comments (0)

May 16, 2007

Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor?

Okay, so my beloved Buffalo Sabres are down 3 games to 0 in the Eastern Conference finals, to the hated Ottawa Senators. The odds are long, but I can't give up yet. Somebody made the perfect video to describe how I am feeling.

Let's go Buffalo.

Posted at 02:56 PM | Comments (0)

May 15, 2007

That's pretty sick, Chubbs

Behold the "drop box" at Quest Diagnostics on Halsted. Apologies for the fuzziness of my picture, but it says "No drugs or money kept in box. Blood and urine specimens only."

Oh dear Lord! Now, I understand the need for a drop box, seeing as sometimes people need a drug test but don't have the time to come in during actual business hours for a test.

To me, this raises several questions. First, how confident can you be in the accuracy of a sample left in a box overnight? You can't even know if the sample is from the person who claims it his sample, since nobody's even around to watch it. I mean, maybe these are for samples where people WANT to get accurate results, but I can always seen an enterprising fellow dropping off the sample of a 60 year old lady to avoid a marijuana bust. I guess they should remember the story of Elaine Benes, but if not, they could be in trouble.

Second, couldn't they make the drop box more secure? Why not make something like a mail slot, where the stuff can't possibly reached from the outside? I'm guessing there was a problem with people breaking into the box, otherwise they wouldn't have the sign.

I'm also wondering what poor schlub has to pick up the samples in the morning. Is it the new guy? Or maybe the worst worker of the week or something? Whatever you have to do to get that job, I hope I never find out.

On another note, I am avoiding that side of Halsted from now on. I don't want to be that near a concentration of blood and pee unless I have to be. Yes, I know there's probably pee all over the sidewalk anyway, but that is at least diluted.

Posted at 10:43 PM | Comments (3)

More baseball

One of the reasons I love baseball is that the game is so full of personality. There was really no greater and likeable personality than Buck O'Neil, who died recently at age 94. If you ever saw the Ken Burns miniseries Baseball, then you definitely know about Buck. Here's a transcript of pretty much all of the interview from the series. My favorite part so far:

What made you decide to try to make a living in baseball?

When I was twelve years old, I worked in the celery fields, and I was a box boy. I would put the boxes out so they could pack the celery in the boxes to ship it. I was sitting behind the boxes one day in the fall of the year, and it was hot in Florida, and I was sweating and itching in that muck. My father was the foreman on this job and he was on [one] side of the boxes, and I was on the other side. And I said, "Damn. There's got to be something better than this." So when we got off the truck that night my daddy said, "I heard what you said behind the boxes." I thought he was going to reprimand me for saying "damn." Because he had never heard me say "damn." I doubt if I had ever said "damn," to tell you the truth. But he said, "I heard what you said about there being something better than this. There is something better, but you can't get it here, you're gonna have to go someplace else."

I had an uncle who was a railroader, and he came to Sarasota to visit us and took my father and me down to West Palm Beach to see the great Rube Foster at the Royal Poinciana Hotel. The ballplayers worked as the bellmen porters at the hotels there, and they played twice a week on — Thursdays when the maids and the chauffeurs were off and could come to the games, and on Sundays when they had half a day off.

I had seen major league baseball, but this is a quicker. It's fast, it's quick. You know how the dull moments in baseball can be. In this type of baseball, never a dull moment. When I got back, now I'm telling everybody about these ballplayers. So, my father then started getting the Amsterdam News, which was the black weekly, sent to me. And we got the Pittsburgh Courier from Pittsburg and the Chicago Defender. So now I'm also reading about these great black baseball players.

It meant everything to me, because I hadn't thought in terms of black and white, you know. All the professional baseball players I'd seen, they were white, you know. Now, I was going to see the professionals that were black. And this meant so much to me. It meant getting me out of that celery field; it meant improving my life. I said, I'm going to be a baseball player.

Posted at 01:56 PM | Comments (0)

May 13, 2007

Great baseball card photos

The excellent Uni Watch blog on ESPN had an interesting article today about sports stars in uniforms that most people do not associate them with, such as OJ Simpson playing for the 49ers. But one of them involved Hall of Famer Nellie Fox, who made his name playing for the White Sox, but then wound up his career playing for the expansion Houston Colt .45's, now known by the slightly more politically correct moniker Astros (or Astronomicals if you're Marty Brennaman).

Anyway, check out Nellie Fox's baseball card:

[Pic]

I mean, wow! Look at that wad of chew he's got there. One of the most amazing things about ballplayers is how so many of them chewed tobacco. I've never chewed tobacco, but I'm pretty sure it's probably the most disgusting thing you can put in your mouth. Okay... second most disgusting thing. [Edit... THIRD most digusting thing.]

Anyway, my favorite baseball card photo is still this one:

That's Cal's little brother, Billy Ripken. Notice anything funny about that baseball bat he's holding? Take a closer look:

[Pictures here]

I don't know if Billy Ripken did that on purpose or not, but either way... Well played, Mr. Ripken. Well played.

Posted at 11:15 PM | Comments (0)

May 11, 2007

Weirdest roommate ever

Okay, I know Comcast has a tie in with the new Spiderman movie, but could have chosen a more disgusting way to combine Comcast and Spiderman? Generally speaking, I find any needless reference to bodily functions repulsive in commercials. The worst offender is that awful Dodge Ram commercial, where the passenger starts to choke on a slim jim. What does the driver do? He slams the brakes, dislodging the offending piece of cured meat and propelling it into the windshield. My God, how awful.

And, well, getting "webbed" is about as bad. Yes I know it's not a real bodily function, but it may as well be. I wouldn't want that guy as a roommate, even without the webbing. There's certain things that I don't want in a roommate, and an obsession with a kid's comic book is near the top!

Posted at 08:26 PM | Comments (0)

Now this is a good one

[Pic]

I've seen some pretty asinine lawsuits in the last few days, and this one is right near the top. One kickball league is suing another kickball league for copyright infringement, on the basis that they copied two rules: that there be 4 boys and 4 girls on the field, and that players must be 21.

I am surprised this hasn't been, uh, kicked out of court yet. I have a few reasons: first, it is hard to copyright a rule, especially one as basic as a player requirement. It is also clear the plaintiff didn't invent kickball, nor is 4 boys and 4 girls a clearly unique rule. (Despite their claim otherwise.)

Rules are afforded "thin" copyright, so that usually the idea behind the rule isn't protected, but the expression of the idea is. Supposing I started a kickball league, and I said the rule was this: On the field of play, there must be not one, not two, not three but four human beings of female variety, preferably hot but any female will do. These females may play any position they wish, so long as there are four of them and they meet all other eligibility requirements to play. And, oh yeah. Bring 4 guys along too. Whatever, they are just there to get drunk and work on their beer guts.

Now, if somebody started a league and copied that rule verbatim, I could possibly claim copyright infringement. If instead they said, "There must be 4 boys and 4 girls on the field," I couldn't rightfully claim they infringed my copyright.

And so, I don't know how there is infringement here. Even if the rule was copied verbatim, there are only so many ways to express a rule, or a law. If somebody wants to play devil's advocate on this thing, I'd love to hear an argument.

Posted at 12:03 AM | Comments (0)

May 10, 2007

Nice try, Best Buy

Have you seen the Best Buy commercial where the kid gives his mom a box from Best Buy for Mother's Day, and the mom jumps for joy? We are then brought to the kid's interior monologue, where he says he had no idea his mom loved Best Buy. He then wonders what else he doesn't know about Mom, wherein he imagines her in some sort of Flashdance-inspired routine, maybe like this:

Anyway, this got me thinking. Does Mom REALLY want something from Best Buy for Mother's Day? I know my mom, and I can't imagine anything that I could get her at Best Buy that she would like. In fact, if you ask her about Best Buy, she'll tell you that she doesn't like it one bit.

Supposing I had a wife some day, and I brought home a fatty digital camera or something for her on Mother's Day, she'd kick my ass. Know why? As usual, I can find a parallel to a Simpsons episode. This time, I refer to the time Homer gave Marge a bowling ball for her birthday. Why would Marge be PO'ed about that? Because the bowling ball is actually for Homer! And so, if I gave a piece of electronics as a present, you damn well know I'd be wanting to use that thing, too. Women are perceptive, see. They'll make that connection after about 1/2 second, and at that point I'd be checking into the Heartbreak Hotel, down in Lonesome Town.

So, I commend your effort, Best Buy, but I am sticking to something I have no use for. Think flowers, or a spa day, or, God forbid, a Vermont Teddy Bear. That way, no ulterior motive can be suggested.

Posted at 11:07 AM | Comments (0)

May 09, 2007

Greatest news ever

Oh dear God, never have I wished a piece of internet gossip be true more than this delightful nugget about Jared Fogle, Mr. Subway himself:

Well, it turns out in college, the All-American Jared was known for something entirely different. According to our source, while studying at Indiana University, Fogle ran a very successful pornography rental company out of his bedroom. His porn collection was vast and extensive, and Fogle took his business pretty seriously. A video would run a patron a dollar a day (cheap!), and people would come from all over to take advantage of the deal. Needless to say, Jared had enough porn to keep his customers happy.

The article than goes on to posit that the reason Jared became hooked on Subway was that he lived above it, and it was the nearest place to get food. I'm sorry... but that is just an awesome story.

Posted at 11:08 PM | Comments (0)

May 08, 2007

We'll always have Paris

I'm glad to see Paris Hilton isn't taking her recent jail sentence sitting down. She now plans to petition the Governator to pardon her. In my opinion, if Arnie did decide to pardon her, he'd be committing political suicide. Who would vote for a guy that would let somebody off because she's famous? Here's the latest on the Paris:

Jail-bound Paris Hilton is begging her fans to petition Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger to keep her out of jail.

The celebrity socialite has already launched her expensive legal team to launch official appeals against her 45-day sentence, insisting: "I was treated unfair."

Now she is so desperate to stay out of jail she is begging friends and fans to start a massive petition to get California's governor to act.

She is writing to everyone she knows in her huge social network and asking them to sign the petition which asks for a pardon because Paris provides "beauty and excitement" to "most of our mundane lives."

It adds: "We, the American public who support Paris, are shocked, dismayed and appalled by how Paris has been the person to be used as an example that Drunk Driving is wrong."

One insider said: "This shows just how terrified Paris is of having to go to jail. I mean asking the Governor for a pardon - that's desperate!"

Posted at 12:18 PM | Comments (0)

May 07, 2007

Interesting archaeology news

It looks like they found the tomb of King Herod in Israel, albeit not the same Herod who scoffed at Jesus:

An Israeli archaeologist has found the tomb of King Herod, the legendary builder of ancient Jerusalem and the Holy Land, Hebrew University said late Monday.

The tomb is at a site called Herodium, a flattened hilltop in the Judean Desert, clearly visible from southern Jerusalem. Herod built a palace on the hill, and researchers discovered his burial site there, the university said.

The university had hoped to keep the find a secret until Tuesday, when it planned a news conference to disclose the find in detail, but the Haaretz newspaper found out about the discovery and published an article on its Web site.

Herod became the ruler of the Holy Land under the Romans around 74 B.C. The wall he built around the Old City of Jerusalem still stands, and he also ordered big construction projects in Caesaria, Jericho, the hilltop fortress of Massada and other sites.

I really wanted to post this news, just so I would have an excuse to put this clip from Jesus Christ Superstar on here:

Posted at 06:08 PM | Comments (0)

May 04, 2007

Be still my beating heart

A story popped up Yahoo today that made me quiver with excitement. An actual, interesting legal decision involving a dead celebrity, which we all know are the best. Not only that, the story is chock full of the legalese that I love. Check this out:

A New York federal judge has ruled that Marilyn Monroe's right of publicity died when she did in 1962, paving the way for family members of the late photographer Sam Shaw to continue selling and licensing images of the icon, including the photo of her standing above a subway gate.

Ah yes, the old right of publicity. This was originally a very murky issue, especially when it involved dead celebrities. One of the first cases I ever read in law school was one where a judge decided Elvis' right to publicity did not extinguish upon his death. But, then the very next case was one where Al Capone's right to publicity DID extinguish. The point? Similar cases, inconsistent verdicts. But this Marilyn Monroe one doesn't really clarify much:

In her ruling Wednesday, U.S. District Court Judge Colleen McMahon found that at the time of her death in 1962, Monroe did not have any postmortem rights of publicity under the law of any relevant state, including California, where she died, and New York, which was purportedly her legal residence, though that is under dispute.

California began recognizing descendible publicity rights in 1984; New York limits its statutory publicity rights to living persons.

"As a result, any publicity rights she enjoyed during her lifetime were extinguished at her death by operation of law," McMahon wrote. "Nevertheless, (Marilyn Monroe Llc.) argues that her will should be construed as devising postmortem publicity rights that were later conferred on Ms. Monroe by statute. Such a construction is untenable."

And while there are disputes as to whether Monroe's home was in California or New York at the time of her death, "there is absolutely no doubt that she was not domiciled in Indiana," McMahon wrote.

Biggity bam! Because I am too lazy to read the actual opinion, I'll assume that these quotes are the legal "money shot" that tell me all I need to know. The judge is saying that because there was no postmortem right to publicity when Marilyn Monroe died, she doesn't get them later when the law actually grants that right. That's hot.

Then, to put the nail in the coffin, Judge McMahon concludes:

"There is no question ... that at the time of Ms. Monroe's death in 1962, neither New York or California permitted a testator to dispose by will of property she did not own at the time of her death," McMahon concluded. "Any argument that the residuary clause of Ms. Monroe's will could devise a postmortem right of publicity is thus doubly doomed because the law in effect at the time of Ms. Monroe's death did not recognize descendible postmortem publicity rights and did not allow for distribution under a will of property not owned by the testator at the time of her death."

Additionally, McMahon said the Monroe estate's case is "doomed because both the California and Indiana postmortem right of publicity statutes recognize that an individual cannot pass by will a statutory property right that she did not possess at the time of her death."

What a nice and tidy disposal of this question. Thank you, Judge McMahon, for giving me a nice jolt of law with my morning reading!

Posted at 12:18 PM | Comments (0)

May 03, 2007

Bad judgment alert

Holy schnikey! This reminds me of one of my favorite scenes from The Right Stuff, where astronaut Alan Shepard is forced to hold it for fear he would short-circuit his spacesuit and cause a fire in his spacecraft. After a long wait, he finally was allowed to let loose. I imagine this kid a had a similar experience:

MAGNOLIA, Ohio (AP) — A sixth-grader was denied permission to use the bathroom during state testing this week and had an accident, an unfortunate outcome of a decision based in part on the need to maintain the integrity of the test, the superintendent said.

“If this happened last week or next week would this be handled differently?” asked David Janofa, superintendent of Sandy Valley Local Schools. “The answer is, ’Yes.”’

The northeast Ohio school district is evaluating policy to try to prevent another student from being embarrassed in the future.

Speaking of The Right Stuff, original astronaut Wally Schirra passed away yesterday. He wasn't one of the more famous astronauts, but he was a great one:

The former Navy test pilot said he initially had little interest when he heard of NASA's Mercury program. But he grew more intrigued over time and the space agency named him one of the Mercury Seven in April 1959.

Supremely confident, he sailed through rigorous astronaut training with what one reporter called "the ease of preparing for a family picnic."

He became the fifth American in space when he blasted off from Cape Canaveral on Oct. 3, 1962, aboard the Sigma 7 Mercury spacecraft. The first two American astronauts made suborbital space flights.

"I'm having a ball up here drifting," Schirra said from space.

At the end of his sixth orbit, Schirra piloted the capsule for a perfect splashdown in the Pacific Ocean.

"No one has flown better than you," NASA Administrator James E. Webb told him a few days later.

Mercury Seven astronauts who survive him are John Glenn, the first American to orbit the Earth, and Scott Carpenter.

"He was a practical joker, but he was a fine fellow and a fine aviator," Carpenter said Thursday. "He will be sorely missed in our group."

Posted at 03:37 PM | Comments (0)

Interesting

I glanced at the most e-mailed stories on Yahoo, where I was planning to comment on this d-bag of a judge who filed a $65 million lawsuit over a missing pair of pants.

I also noticed the most e-mailed photos column, which you see above you. What do you notice about these pictures? They're all pictures of women or animals, with the world's largest pearl as the only holdout! Usually when it's an animal, it's a silly looking animal. I can't tell if there's anything funny about these particular dogs, but I wouldn't be surprised. Well, I think the top right is a baby llama, but I'm not sure. Monkeys are just plain funny, and snakes are creepy. If you're e-mailing photos of girls, it's because they're hot, wearing something skimpy, or both, as you can see in these photos.

It's a winning recipe, I tell you.

Posted at 10:43 AM | Comments (0)

May 02, 2007

And so it goes

I tend to complain on here a lot, but in reality I don't think I'm a malcontent or anything. But you'll probably have to wonder, after I tell you about the latest thing that kind of annoys me.

I dislike revolving doors. I've probably mentioned that a few times. I get nervous when there are a bunch of people at one revolving door, and you have to jump in the door at just the right time, or you'll die like Michael Ironside in Total Recall.

But I've noticed a new annoying trend in revolving doors: the person who pushes the door only enough that she can get out, leaving the door halfway open. I feel like if you are exiting a revolving door, you should push it hard enough so that it keeps moving for the next person, if one is approaching. There have been too many times lately where somebody has been coming out of a revolving door and I have been approaching, and the other person leaves the door halfway. I then have to pull a move where I either need to squeeze into one side, or push the other half of the door inwards so that I can get in. It's really not that hard to give the door a little extra shove when you are coming out of it to spare the next occupant this awkward situation.

Posted at 02:50 PM | Comments (0)

If these walls could talk...

...Is a phrase that I think is a little overused. Here's what I think a wall would actually say if it could talk.

1. "It sure is boring here."

2. "Don't put nails in me!"

3. "Why do bad things happen to good walls?"

4. "My friends call me Brick."

5. "I've got a few cracks here. Anybody know a good mason?"

6. "Don't ask me what goes on in here, I wasn't even paying attention."

Any other suggestions?

Posted at 12:08 AM | Comments (0)

May 01, 2007

How not to skinny dip

This was probably not the wisest way to pull off a skinny-dipping exhibition:

As many as 200 students decided to celebrate graduation at Concordia College by skinny dipping in a murky campus pond early Monday, authorities said.

A security officer tried to shoo the students out of the pond but they wouldn't cooperate, Concordia security chief Sherri Arnold said.

Moorhead police were called after students pushed the security officer's golf cart into the pond.

Police estimated that when they arrived on the scene, about 50-75 students were in various states of undress and fleeing, but no one was naked.

Posted at 10:47 AM | Comments (1)