Archive - Aug 2007

You Will Believe An Ostrich Can Fly

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A light tapping on the floor. A paw waves furtively under the stall wall. It wants something. It wants.. to hold your banana. SPASTIC TOPIC MONKEY FRIDAY!

I haven't actually bothered saying anything about the Alberto Gonzales resignation yet, mainly because there's very little to say. He was a fuckhead, he never should have been confirmed in the first place, and odds are Bush is going to hold out as long as he can before nominating as his replacement someone else who should never be confirmed in the first place. Who will then be confirmed by the same bunch of Democrats who think that not answering any questions during confirmation hearings is the same as promising to do everything in a competent and honest matter.

The timing of it is interesting, though - normally you'd see that kind of thing dropped into the Friday news hole for it to be forgotten over the weekend. Instead, it was on a Monday morning. Just as both The Daily Show and The Colbert Report went on a two-week Labor Day break. Are they savvy enough to time comedy-inspiring news items for when Stewart and Colbert out of town? It seems unlikely, but it also seems to keep happening.


Man, I sure wish I had Tucker Carlson's razor-sharp intellect. He proved this week that he's more than capable of making the fine distinction between "beating up a homo" and "beating up a homo for the greater good of the community".

On Wednesday, discussing the Larry Craig bathroom brouhaha, Carlson claimed that, in high school, he'd been "bothered" by a homosexual in a bathroom, and responded by leaving, coming back 25 minutes later with a buddy, grabbing the guy by what he would only describe as the "you know", bashing his head into the stall wall, and then turning the guy over to the cops.

When some people noticed that that sounded REALLY, REALLY BAD, Tucker released an official statement that, in a very Gonzalez-esque manner, refined his account to the following. ACTUAL WEASEL TIME!

"...a man physically grabbed me in a men's room in Washington, DC. I yelled, pulled away from him and ran out of the room. Twenty-five minutes later, a friend of mine and I returned to the men's room. The man was still there, presumably waiting to do to someone else what he had done to me. My friend and I seized the man and held him until a security guard arrived."

See? He didn't assault the guy, he "seized" him. He's not a gay basher, he's more like a straight Hardy Boy. He stopped a serial grabber before he could grab again. Any way you look at it, each time he rammed that gay guy's head into the bathroom stall, he became more and more of a hero. Thank you, Tucker, for managing to find the only way to make it even LESS likely that any man would want to have sex with you.


And finally, in the only news not about bathroom sex or attorneys general all week, a production company has announced they have acquired the film rights to a video game. That video game, I shit you not, is JOUST.

Yes, Joust, in which behelmeted pixelly dudes on flying ostriches attempt to hit each other with their jousting poles while skittering around ledges and picking up eggs. The producers say they envision a "Mad Max meets Gladiator" kind of story, but those fuckers had better be faithful to the source material.

Because I'm going to bring a nerd posse with me to opening night, and if ONE SINGLE MOTHERFUCKING OSTRICH JOUSTER kills his opponent from underneath, we will start a fucking riot that will live for the ages. If you want to see this movie opening night, I suggest you take public transit, because the odds are good that afterwards, there will be parking lots full of upside-down, burning cars.