The results are in! It is official: Pie N' Burger is a good place to eat, knowing nothing more about it than the name.

For those of you who initially said no, no, I cannot give my tastebuds to such a place, I wish to tell you this: You may have been wrong, but we will honor your decision, and we will honor it by inviting you to... the ACTUAL Pie N' Burger!

I call for all Americans to stand behind Pie 'N Burger. Because hey. Pie and Burgers!

Apparently Pie N' Burger is actually reeeeeeally good. I shall visit and give my own review forthwith.

Ah, Joe the Plumber. He was just tossin' around a football in his front yard, until Obama, Godzilla-like, stomped over and started pinging questions off him¹. But hey, Joe rallied, as any good American would, and *totally stumped* Obama with a hypothetical question about whether his business would be destroyed if he was lucky enough to start owning a business that made a quarter of a million dollars a year, even though that was not actually possible, but hey, what if it happened, and also I have no understanding of marginal tax rates?

Well, poor ol' Joe. The EEEEVIL media started wondering about Joe. Was he who he said he was? Turns out... sorta kinda, but not entirely. Maybe his question was not entirely politically innocent, which conclusion is supported by the fact that Joe is currently stumping for a particular candidate.

Apparently, though, answering these background questions about Joe turns out to be the worst fucking thing you can do to a person. The media, it seems, utterly DESTROYED Joe, for the crime of asking a politician a question. Whether any politician had a role in bringing this person to the forefront seems uncouth to ask. It was all about the media, you see, the media destroying a normal "undecided" voter.

Nevertheless, the destruction of Joe who had the temerity to question Obama, was total. He was forced into giving numerous interviews, first on his his lawn (due to the power of the liberal media, he was unable to walk into his house and close his front door), then in television studios, entirely against his will. Joe was then flown to New York in chains, and forced by whip torture to appear on several news programs to further the destruction of his reputation. Once transferred to the capital of the liberal media, he was threatened with tarring and feathering if he failed to appear on various live televised interviews.

Joe has since been further degraded by the liberal media, who held his child at gunpoint until he agreed to a book deal, and possibly a country music album. When will the liberal media stop *punishing* Joe for his questioning of Obama? WHEN? Dear god, WHEN WILL THE PUNISHMENT STOP.

Oh, Joe, you poor, poor man. Why must you be destroyed by being enriched and aggrandized?



¹A number of Republican folks seem to think that somehow Obama picked Joe out of the crowd, but the first report of it was from Joe himself, who said that he was just throwing a football around, and his neighbors weren't asking good enough questions, so he decided to go ask Obama a question. How precisely he knew from a few blocks away that his neighbors weren't asking good enough questions is something that maybe the interviewer should have asked, but oh well.

Not many people know who Andrew Lahde is. So I'll tell you: He's a guy who started from not very much, who worked his ass off to get into the best schools he could (he got his MBA from UCLA, which ain't bad but certainly isn't Harvard or Yale.)

Then he made millions upon millions of dollars not just for himself but for others, recently by predicting and betting against the sub-prime collapse. The hedge fund that he ran saw around 800% growth in the last year or two. And then he shut it all down, and issued a statement. It's a fairly entertaining statement, because he points out the things he does not like: Rich kids, the financial establishment in general, rich kids, and last but certainly not least, anti-marijuana laws.

Read for yourself the unfocused yet amusing "fuck off, you fuckers" letter: http://www.portfolio.com/html/assets/AndrewLahdeFarewell.pdf

As a child of various different gradations of middle class, I say godspeed, Andrew. Enjoy getting truly and seriously high. Lord knows you can afford to now. Also, please toss me about 50 grand. You've got it, and I could use it to start climbing the ladder to where you are. (And eventually I'll give you back 80 grand. Really.)

Joe Six-pack.

Flashback to about 6 years ago: My beloved 1991 Acura Integra is about to throw its transmission. My wife and I, flush with some leftover Internet cash, are looking into a new car to replace B.L.A.I. And Lo! upon the market did come the new Ford Thunderbird, an undeniably beautiful car. We call around and find a dealer that is not charging an extra markup on the retail price. Upon visiting the dealer, we test-drive the car (and Mmmmm, even a small V8 is still a damn V8) and look at several different models and colors. At one point, when my wife is not standing there, I open the trunk and discover the trade-off between having a convertible and having some trunk space.

The salesman looks at me, sees a young, white, married yet childless male and literally sniggers, then uncorks this line - "Hey, all you really gotta fit in there is a set of clubs, right?" To which I replied "Um... I don't golf." He, being a salesman, recovered quickly though I'm at a loss to remember how. We bought the car anyway, and today it's still a pretty cool car and also, I'd like to note, paid off.

But flash forward to today, and to irony:

It turns out that you actually can't fit a set of clubs in the trunk. Not a set with wheels on it, anyway, though I don't think the wheels were the actual problem - the problem was the woods, which were Too. Bloody. Long. I had to haul them out of the bag and chuck them in the passenger seat before I could cram the rest of the golf bag into the trunk¹.

So hey, Mr. Ford Salesman, no. No, you were not right. On any number of counts.

¹ I would have discovered this long ago had I actually played golf, instead of playing once every several years, today being the first with clubs I inherited a few years back.

Actual message on our answering machine:

"Yeah, [garbled] Guns n' Roses [garbled garbled garbled] short fiction [garbled] *click*"

Are the members of Guns n' Roses writing short fiction? Is someone writing short fiction about Guns n' Roses? Or is it something entirely more sinister?

_{Though I have to admit that the concept of Axl Rose writing short fiction is pretty damned sinister all on its own.}

I like Chris Moore, and I think you should too (though many of you probably won't.) In aid of this, I present to you a somewhat abridged quote from my favorite novel of his, Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal. Never mind that you don't know the story, you'll figure out what's going on here.

We were twelve days into our journey, following Balthasar's meticulously drawn map, when we came to the wall.
"So," I said, "what do you think of the wall?"
"It's great," said Joshua.
"It's not that great," I said.
There was a long line waiting to get through the giant gate, where scores of bureaucrats collected taxes from caravan masters as they passed through. The gatehouses alone were each as big as one of Herod's palaces, and soldiers rode horses atop the wall, patrolling far into the distance. We were a good league back from the gate and the line didn't seem to be moving.

"Screw it," I said. "This is going to take forever. How long can it be? Let's go around."

A month later, when we had returned to the same gate and we were standing in line to get through, Joshua asked: "So what do you think of the wall now? I mean, now that we've seen so much more of it?"
"I think it's ostentatious and unpleasant," I said.
"If they don't have a name for it, you should suggest that."
And so it came to pass that through the ages the wall was known as the Ostentatious and Unpleasant Wall of China. At least I hope that's what happened.

For any Mitch Hedberg fans who might be reading this...

New Mitch CD! Yay!

http://www.amazon.com/You-Believe-Gosh-Mitch-Hedberg/dp/B001CVCBTY/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=music&qid=1218076288&sr=8-1

I have recently discovered a new source of truly wacky amusement: Tom Kovach. Tom Kovach, in (presumably) his own words, "is a former USAF Blue Beret, and has written for several online publications. In 2006, he published his first book. He is also an inventor, a horse wrangler, a certified paralegal, and a network talk-radio host. He is available to speak to your group."

My heavens, wherever does he find the time to write what is almost certainly an unpaid or almost nearly unpaid column for the mighty internet juggernaut that is www.renewamerica.us? In between the horse wrangling, inventing, and paralegaling? Also, I should note that in the Air Force, the Blue Berets are not Special Forces, they are military policemen. It just sounds cooler to call yourself a "Blue Beret."

Anyway, none of that matters. The dude is a total WACKALOON, a fundamentalist but who takes it a lot farther with numerological analysis of the Bible and wayyyyy farther. Amusingly so, if you are in the proper frame of mind. I refer you to his most recent column, of July 18 2008. I will reproduce much of it here, for purposes of sheer and utter mockery. So let's begin:

This writer has received an increased amount of hate mail for daring to proclaim that last month's "unprecedented" dry-lightning storm in California was an act of God that will precede another act of God.

Er... aren't all lighting storms, strikes, etc, acts of god? Even if not, don't all acts of God pretty much necessarily precede other acts of God? Never mind, never mind...

This writer also dared to proclaim the notable timing relationship between the lightning storm and California's resumption of same-sex "marriage." This writer also dared to proclaim that the lightning storm that triggered more than 800 wildfires in a single day — a day that had significance of its own, both in calendar position and in events — was part of a specific sequence of events predicted in the Bible as the start of the seven-year period called The Tribulation. This writer also dared to predict that the sequence — written in Revelation 8:5 — says that the next thing to happen would be an earthquake.

People scoffed.

I didn't actually scoff at that, but only because I only recently came upon this column. I was, if you will, a future scoffer. I continue to scoff, though, if for no other reason than your determination to refer to yourself as "this writer." It doesn't actually make you sound more journalistic, dude. Also, uh, the decision to resume same-sex marriage happened, like, a month ago. Almost exactly a month ago, as I read my calendar. So was God, like, too busy? I mean, if He'd wanted to make His point, wouldn't He have started whooping ass IMMEDIATELY? Or did God totally drop the Ball on That One, sorry, it won't Happen again?

The Holy Bible says that, in the End Times, people will scoff.

The folks who wrote the Holy Bible are pretty clever, because they were aware that people have *always* scoffed and will continue to do so. So hey, why not say that the existence of scoffers proves your point?

Skipping just a bit (I assure you I am leaving nothing of import out, and feel free to check the original column if you think I am)...

In previous columns, this writer posited that the wildfires could heat up the rock formations, thus creating geological instability. A later column showed that, indeed, the official US Geological Survey earthquake prediction maps indicated that the wildfire zone was more than three thousand times more likely to have an earthquake three weeks after the fires started that it was the day before the fires started.

I should note that the words "three thousand times" in that paragraph were hyperlinked. But the link was broken. HMMmmmmmmm. Of course, um... heating up the rock formations that exist several miles below the surface of the earth is maybe not all that scientifically proven. In fact, of course, it is lots of rain, which filters down to the geological rock formations and makes everything all slippy-slidy that *actually* causes earthquakes.¹

So now let's skip more of the boring crap and get to the really amusing part of this: The part where we get to draw! Or, as the wackaloon puts it, the defeat of a "strange god" that dares to defy the God of the Bible.

It starts with this image:

This is a map of earthquakes within the past few days in the area of Asti², California. And, as everyone knows, "Asti" means "Hill" in the ancient Ligurian language! ANCIENT! LIGURIAN!

Now, what most people would take from this is that there are earthquake faults all throughout California and this particular area experienced some tiny, tiny quakes. Why, they might even be foreshocks. But nobody knows... except GOD of course! God is totally messing with your mind. Observe, and may I remind you of Mr. Kovach's reminder that this is all terribly coincidental with the "resumption of same-sex marriage" (which happened a month ago):

The above map shows a closer view of the Asti quake cluster zone. In the closer view, it is easier to see how many quakes have occurred recently in this small area. But, if a person had been watching this same map several times per day, for a month, then that person would see what this writer will now highlight for the reader.


Oh ho, scoffers! Looky there! God is drawing on the map! Also, God is very selective in which points He notes and which ones He ignores. And look further, ye scoffers:



Look, it's a crescent! If I draw on the map to include a couple of random events outside the big cluster that I'm citing as my evidence of a big earthquake to come, look! Look, I'm drawing on the map! It's a CRESCENT! You know how I know? Because I drew it that way!


It's totally a crescent! Or anyway it's a banana, and we know how God feels about South American "Banana" Republics.

But it gets even better, because now we're not even going to try to map things, we're just going to stick stuff on the map and say God did it.

The above picture shows the same two arc lines, only now connected and filled in with white color. Clearly visible is a crescent-moon shape. The crescent is the symbol of Islam. But, this crescent is oriented exactly upside-down and backwards of the Islamic crescent. Or, you know, a banana. In religious iconography, that would be the equivalent of a public slap in the face. Only an all-powerful God could have arranged earthquakes to appear on a map in the shape of an upside-down-and-backwards Islamic crescent. Er... why didn't He make it a perfect crescent shape, with exactly perfect, say, 4.0 earthquakes in an actual, y'know, CRESCENT shape? Never mind. But, wait, there's more. Islamic flags actually contain two celestial features: a crescent moon and a star. So, where is the star? Remember the mention of the idol worship at the Bohemian Grove? This writer maintains, as does the Holy Bible, that idol worship is an activity inspired by Satan — even if the participants do not recognize Satan, and think that they are praying to "someone else." Let's insert a Satanic star (point-down) over the location of the Bohemian Grove.



Well yes, let's just go ahead and do that, shall we? I mean why not? It could have been almost any other shape in the world, but why not a star? It's just you and me here, so let's go ahead and make up the rules! Only Satanists use star symbols! Nobody else has ever used a star symbol except Satanists. And you can tell because the Satanist star symbol is a sort of flabby star symbol, with the point down... wait... WHICH point down?

Anyway, the point is. If you've got photoshop and some USGS maps, you can draw on a map and say that God wanted them there as a warning about, apparently, gay marriage, which would possibly be... er... reverse Islam. And who, indeed, can gainsay your wisdom?

Now, I am well aware that I'm not God. I'm not a flying purple unicorn, either. But, let's just say for the sake of argument that I am an all-powerful being.

Now, as an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-controlling being, I decide that I am miffed about gay dudes getting it on legally (as opposed to in secret, which is how I really like it because hey, I'm a deity, but secret and illicit sex is *hot*).

So, now. How do I send My message?

A) Flinging lightning bolts to incinerate all gay people immediately

B) Telling people to stop being gay, then not bothering to do anything about it, just designating some assholes to talk for Me about how much it irritates Me

C) Creating everybody as they are and loving them no matter what

D) Sending a series of small earthquakes and forest fires which with a lot of imagination could look vaguely crescent-ish (NO, NOT like a banana, shut up), then Photoshop (yeah, I created Photoshop JUST FOR THIS) a star onto that map, to show an image equivalent to seeing a flag with the Islamic crescent and star on a flag from the wrong side: BOOYAH! Backwards crescent and star = deliberate if extremely complicated insult to Islam, designed to show My displeasure not about gay people getting it on, but about gay people getting married. 'Cause everybody knows that Islam is all about the gay-loving. MAN! If *that* doesn't show those homos, I don't know what will!

Don't trust anyone who plumps for "C." They're probably queer for queers. Stick with "B," it gets you donations from the faithful.



¹This is not even remotely true.

²"In 1881, Andrea Sbarboro established two communities, Asti and Chianti, as part of his Italian Swiss Agricultural Colony. Asti was named after the city in northern Italy." - from the Wikipedia entry on "Asti" (Not explained: What the heck is "Italian Swiss.")

How would you define "the middle of nowhere?" I mean, if you were to make actual measurements, what criteria would you use?

If you were to confine it to the 48 contiguous United States, how might you define it? The farthest place from any federal highway? Or perhaps, if you were to make a map with brightness corresponding to population density, the darkest single spot? But maybe, like a tree falling in the forest, maybe there can't be a middle of nowhere if there isn't anyone there to be in the middle of nowhere - so perhaps the smallest registered town in the US, either by size or by population? Or perhaps the US Postal Service station that serves the fewest residents?

Maybe we could go even more scientific - take a look at the most recent Census and Postal Service data, determine where every single residence in the United States is, and mathematically find the spot farthest from any of those.

Or perhaps the middle of nowhere is more prosaic - just because there's one asshole who lives somewhere doesn't mean it's not the ass end of ass end. Perhaps the farthest spot from any town with 1,000 residents or more.

Perhaps it's all metaphoric. I know I've occasionally found myself in places in my own home town - places where I knew I was less than a mile from a street I recognized that could take me home - where I still felt like I was totally in the ass end of nowhere, lost among warehouses and giant industrial facilities. There are probably vast swatches of New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, and other huge cities that become utterly deserted when industry is not occurring. These places could probably fairly be called "the middle of nowhere" if you're there at the right time.

And then there is culture. Many people consider Los Angeles to be a cultural wasteland, the middle of nowhere as far as anything cultural is concerned.

Or food. What about the food "middle of nowhere?" I mean, does anybody turn to, say, Cleveland for any sort of new and delicious food? How about Gary, Indiana?

I've explicated the hell out of my question, so now I will turn it over to you. How many ways can you define "the middle of nowhere" and more importantly, how do you measure it?

This may not be the Ugliest Kitchen Ever. But it sure ain't pretty.

I was looking at my wife today, at about 5:57 PM when I got home, and I suddenly realized: I no longer wanted to have anything to do with her. She had done nothing wrong - indeed, she had cooked one of the tastiest meatloaves I've ever eaten. And some broccoli. I have to assume that she had been having the same sort of thoughts, and was hoping that I would choke on one of the suspiciously large florets.

Suddenly, we both realized that our marriage had been irreparably damaged.

Alright, hardy har har. But I'm going to ask two questions, one of which I asked long ago and was not answered, and a somewhat related but new question:

1) Is there a rational or legal reason to be against gay marriage?

2) I accept that you are opposed to gay marriage on religious grounds - I don't share your beliefs, but I respect your right to your faith. Indeed, you are free to deny marriage to gay people within your church, and honestly I have no problem with that. I'm firmly committed to the First Amendment. But... what does it matter if the state sanctions gay marriage? I know *you* don't sanction it, and nor does your church. But why does it matter what the state does? (I'm pretty well aware that I'm asking this one largely into a crowd of unbelievers. But if any of you have any insight on this one, please, help me out.)

A Los Angeles Police Department patrol car with two LAPD officers in front, and boxes upon boxes of candy in the back.

That candy had committed a crime - the crime of premeditated deliciousness.

My day was absolutely made today when I received the following e-mail:

Robert L Batman is out of the office

I looked him up in our company directory, and it turns out that Mr. Batman (Bob Batman to his friends) has a PharmD degree, works as a Drug Education Administrator, and is officially Robert L. Batman, III. So there was a Bob Batman Jr. at some point.

There are many, many jokes here. Have at them.

Our culture needs a new word for "the act of staying late at work doing nothing work-related, with the intention of waiting just long enough to send one's boss an e-mail at a late hour, for the purpose of attempting to fool the boss into thinking one was working late into the evening."

My entry: "Mendacitiming."

Your entries are welcomed.

So wrong, yet completely work-safe, yet still just awful: Worst. Chess set. Ever.

(ganked from mule242)

I got an e-mail in my Facebook inbox from one Narayan Khanna. No clue who that is, but here's the opening:

Wishing you a Life Filled with Inner Self Newness. As we Bravely Run towards the Finishing line of Life, we Forget to Remind each other of Our Virtues. Interestingly, The Divine Rationale Intellect Only sees Qualities and Teaches us to Let Go of our weaknesses. Out of My Respect for Humanity, Please Accept My Good Wishes...

And it goes on quite a bit in that vein, including such gems as

Your Beautiful Soul contains: A Happy Mind + A Knowledgeful Intellect + A Virtuous Personality. The ORIGINAL HOME of Souls is The SOUL WORLD, The Faraway Peaceful Land of Silence.

and my favorite,

Be a Beautiful Gardner in the Creation of your Colourful Tree-like Life. Eat Fruits of Joy and Spread the Fragrance of your Flower-like Virtues to souls who seek your Shade.

I'm reasonably certain I have no virtues whatsoever, having personally strangled the last of them when I was 26. But if some have come creeping back, I'll have you know that there is no frigging way any of them are flower-like.

You people keep your Fruits of Joy and especially your Fragrances to yourselves, too. Spreading them can't possibly be hygienic.

Anybody need a 130-foot water tower? For sale cheap!