Marketing never tasted so good

I took a marketing class in high school, and one day the teacher asked which of us students were confident we could tell the difference between Coke and Pepsi. Many hands were raised, and some were picked to do taste tests. As we all watched, the teacher blindfolded them and then handed them cups filled with either Coke, Pepsi, Diet Coke, Diep Pepsi, Sprite, Diet Sprite and Dr. Pepper. They were asked to sip and identify, and they all failed. They failed miserably. Many even thought one of the Sprites was a Coke or Pepsi.

The moral, she said, was that branding has more to do with a consumer's appreciation of a product than the actual formula. Taste, in other words, is actually perceived taste. I was impressed.

Years later, I mentioned this one day to some friends in college, and they got all excited and wanted to try it themselves. They were sure they could beat it, they said. Confident. They told me my test was stupid -- so stupid they wanted to do it.

"Ok, but remember, it's not my test. I just saw this happen in high school. That's all I'm saying," I said.

"Whatever, we'll destroy this test of yours," they said.

Permalink: 01:06 AM | Comments (6)

Table scraps:

♣IF THE MCSWEENEY'S tour is coming near you, I advise checking it out. I went to the Boston stop last night, and it was a lot of fun. Two writers reading pretty off-beat stuff, a McSweeney's editor sharing amusing tidbits about their new books, some writing of postcards -- really, what more could you want?

♣"JONNY GLOW WORKS for me, Hallelujah I can see where to pee." From the Wacky Product Department comes Jonny Glow, glow-in-the-dark strips that help you reach the toilet at night. Its online ad shows a guy peeing on the dog and plants because he can't find the toilet, but really now: I know people get up at night to pee, but does anyone actually forget where the toilet is? If so, glow-in-the-dark strips really aren't the solution to your problem. Although, in turning to another wacky product, I wonder what kind of help you'll need in getting to the bathroom if you sleep in the Quantum Sleeper, the ultimate in war-on-terror-freak-out sleeping gear.

♣THE MORAL OF this story is you should combine kareoke and Dance Dance Revolution only in the privacy of your own home.

♣ONE BLOGGER IS wise to wonder: Is Larry Flynt a consultant for HBO's new marketing campaign? Because if not, HBO is just blatantly ripping him off.

♣AT WHAT POINT does America's new religious frenzy hit a brick wall? Of course, when it tries seeping into sports. Just ask a New Jersey legislator who wants the NJ Devils to change its name.

♣AND THEN, THERE'S this.

Permalink: 12:25 AM | Comments (0)

A classy evening in Melbourne

While walking around Melbourne one day, I saw graffiti that said, "U say tomato, I say fuck u." I guess they called the whole thing off right there.

That night, Lisa and I wanted to check out a random local band, partly for the music and partly to do something completely non-touristy. At random, we chose a bar called the Esplanade Hotel (where I took the above picture), which was hosting a handful of bands that evening. We went, bought a VB each, and sat down just as the first act was ending.

Then a girl introduced the next act -- a guy named Alex, who she said had drank quite a few VBs already. Alex got on stage, tuned his guitar for a few minutes, meekly said, "Please enjoy me," and played an extremely sloppy instrumental song for a minute, which ended abruptly.

"I want to dedicate my next song to my girlfriend, who's sitting in the front row and wearing a white top and black pants," Alex said, pointing to a part of the bar that contained neither a front row or anyone matching that description.

"The song," he said, "is called, 'Bend over again you fucking bitch, I swear I caught a glimpse of nipple.'" Take a guess what the lyrics were.

After that impressive ditty, Alex played another tune, this one featuring lyrics far too slurred for us to understand. And when he was done with that, the girl who introduced him hurried up on stage and asked for a round of applause.

"We're going to have Alex back again sometime, when he has less beer," she said.

"That's not in the near future, I guarantee," he said.

I believe it.

Permalink: 01:09 PM | Comments (1)

Table scraps:

♣REAL OR FAKE? Forget-me-not panties have GPS trackers and body temperature monitors embedded into them, so you can give your wife or girlfriend or daughter a pair as a present and then track their every move. It seems insane enough for some people to actually but, but I still can't totally believe this is serious.

♣MIKE DOUGHTY, THE frontman of the now-defunct Soul Coughing, just came out with an awesome solo album called Haughty Melodic. Not quite as exciting, but still very entertaining, is his blog -- especially this post about being a guest on insaneman and former Sex Pistol Steve Jones's radio show.

♣THE LEADER OF a crazy megachurch has sent out instructions to his followers, who are soon to be filmed by network news crews, and his message is this: Don't act crazy! Isn't that fascinating? He's actually aware that his followers are batty -- seems to enjoy it, actually -- and yet is trying to make sure they don't flaunt it on tv. What's he trying to hide?

♣FEELING DOWN? WHY not let the New York Times tell you how much better off you are -- or, I guess, worse off you are -- than everyone else.

♣PHIL SPECTOR'S CHIN must be an insta-afro button, because somebody pushed it in and look what popped out.

♣WHAT HIGH SCHOOL kid hasn't fantasized about blasting the school in a graduation speech? Impressively, this guy did it.

♣I DIDN'T WATCH "American Idol," but I loved watching this.

Permalink: 11:25 AM | Comments (0)

Oh yeah? Well, cilantro hates you too

Do you hate cilantro? I don't -- but then again, people who know me might say, "That's because you don't have a sense of taste." And it's true: I can't argue with that.

But my friend Rob does indeed have a sense of taste, and he hates cilantro. Like, hates it. Hates it so much, he now operates ihatecilantro.com. What did cilantro ever do to him? The hell if I know -- but if Rob ever gets on my bad side, I do know where I'm taking him to dinner.

If you're so inclined, go check his site out. And if you hate cilantro as well, he even has a place to share sob stories.

Permalink: 09:57 AM | Comments (0)

Dead or Alive?

Is Jon Bon Jovi the missing link? On the right, Jovi. On the left, a reconstructed 20-year-old Neanderthal woman named Pierrette, currently on display at a French museum.

It could be worse: Our ancestors could have looked like Mick Jagger instead. Although, considering his age, Mick Jagger might be our ancestor.

(My girlfriend gets total credit for noting the resemblance.)

Permalink: 09:54 PM | Comments (4)

Behold: An airline named after a flightless bird

We flew this from Kangaroo Island to Adelaide, in an airport so small that the pilot doubles as a baggage carrier, and you can only take a small amount of luggage. Luckily, the plane flew a lot better than its namesake.

Permalink: 12:47 AM | Comments (0)

Bleach Blondie

Hey hepcats! Want to scope something totally bodacious and groovy? Dig this comic!

Well, there's a third panel as well, but it's pretty unnecessary. Instead, let's just reflect upon the repeated use of the phrase "rap singer" in that strip from yesterday's newspapers. Rap singer? You mean, like, rapper? What teenager uses the phrase "rap singer"? And for that matter, what teenager wonders if his dad has a favorite "rap singer"?

Oh, I know: A teenager created by someone who writes comic strips for a living, and yet has no idea what teenagers are actually up to these days.

And the saddest part is, the comic writers know there's a problem! Consider this snippet from a Wall Street Journal article last month (which, because the WSJ's site is registration-only, I'm linking instead to a blog that cited it):

For cartoonists now at the helm of old comic strips -- many of whom are new, hired hands -- such contemporizing is more crucial than ever. Given changing tastes and declining space on newspaper comics pages, cartoonists are struggling to give characters 2005 sensibilities without offending nostalgic older fans. It's a tough task.

A tough task? Sure, if your writers aren't in touch with 2005 sensibilities. Because really now, will Beetle Bailey feel more modern because it introduced a techie character named Chip Gizmo? Will Blondie benifit if its characters are talking about rap without using realistic language?

I know I've prattled on about this before, but really now: The only way to modernize the comics pages is to simply dump all the old comics and get fresh ones. Like that one rap singer might say, Blondie and Beetle Bailey are bitches, and bitches ain't shit.

Permalink: 08:08 AM | Comments (2)

A conversation while buying beer in Melbourne

Clerk: It's nice to meet some smart Americans for a change.

Us: Oh?

Clerk: Yesterday, two Americans came in here asking where a duty free shop is, and so I pointed at that street right there and said, "Just walk up that street, take a left, and you'll see one on the corner."

Us: Uh-huh.

Clerk: And the guy says, "But that street's a one-way street."

Us: What?

Clerk: I know! So I say, "What do you mean?" And he says, "It's a one-way street, you can't walk the wrong direction up it." So I said, "It's one way for cars! You can walk up in on your damn hands if you want to."

Permalink: 07:49 AM | Comments (2)

When the 'Mile-High Club' hits turbulence

How awesome is it that this is being sold in the men's bathroom at Melbourne's airport? And no, I didn't buy one.

Permalink: 01:03 AM | Comments (3)

How I failed my paparazzi entrance exam

This is a completely true story: As was previously noted, my parents flew first class to and from Australia, which gave all four of us (them, me, my girlfriend) admission to the exclusive airport "Qantas Club." It's a series of rooms with plush seats, Internet access, magazines, free snacks and booze. Being there feels very secretive and pompous, because we have to enter a semi-hidden door in the airport and gain admission from snippy women at desks. It's a lot like what I imagine joining the Masons is like.

As we sat out our layover in LA on our way from Sydney to Boston, we spotted Julia Louis-Dreyfus in a chair no more than 20 feet away. She was with a young boy -- her son? -- and some large man who functioned as some kind of tour manager/bodyguard. As we all strained to listen, she chatted idlly on the phone, complaining about what sounded like home decoration. I tried taking a picture, but because she was in front of a window, it was backlit and nothing recognizable came out.

Then the tour manager came over and signaled that it was time to go. She and the boy got up and prepared to walk, and I knew I had one chance to take a good picture. But I didn't want to be too obvious, because we were in an exclusive spot where celebrities are probably routine, and it seemed improper to act like a fan. I didn't want to be that guy.

So I cradled the camera in my lap, barely visible to the average passer-by. When she walked past, I took the photo, then waited for her to leave before looking at my prize. Here it is...

Permalink: 12:41 AM | Comments (7)

Flight attendants, prepare for landing

Taken as I boarded a plane from Adelaide to Melbourne

There may be free booze on international flights, but do you know what happens when a passenger's blood alcohol level rises like frequent flier points? I do.

I flew with my girlfriend Lisa on Qantas flight QF12 from Los Angeles to Sydney on May 5. We were in seats 54H and J -- the aisle and the middle. In the window seat was an Australian woman we're fairly sure was named Jennifer, and Jennifer was in a friendly mood. As she sipped on a bottle of wine, provided by one of the flight attendants, we talked about all the exciting things I’d be seeing upon arriving in Australia. When she finished her bottle, she had another. And then another. It helped her sleep, she explained to me. That sounded reasonable.

A few bottles later, she woke my girlfriend and I up because she needed to go to the bathroom. I need to pee after a few sips of wine, so I can only imagine the gusher she had to unleash. We groggily got up, and Lisa switched to give her the aisle seat. Surely, she’d be visiting the restroom more than we would.

Hours and more bottles of wine went by, with Jennifer getting sloppier by the sip.

With about 7 hours left to go in the flight, I took a sleeping pill. The flight arrived in Sydney at 6:05 a.m., and so it seemed reasonable for me to sleep for the remaining part of the flight and wake up at the end, thus avoiding jetlag by getting up at Sydney’s morning. But about two hours into my slumber, Jennifer, with many fermented grapevines flowing through her veins, shook me awake. I was confused and discombobulated, as someone might be when woken up from a drug-induced sleep. Jennifer, though, thought something else was wrong.

“Oh god!” she said. “Oh god, you look all fucked up! You’re all sick. You’re all fucked up.”

Permalink: 07:22 AM | Comments (3)

Episode III: Revenge of Padme's amnesia

I saw George Lucas's legacy crumble a bit more last night, and this exchange really struck me:

OBI-WAN: I have seen a security hologram of him killing younglings.

PADME: Not Anakin! He couldn't!

...but surely, Padme, you must remember this rather disturbing moment from the previous movie:

ANAKIN: I... I killed them. I killed them all. They're dead, every single one of them...

ANAKIN focuses on her like someone returning from far away.

ANAKIN: Not just the men, but the women and the children too. They're like animals, and I slaughtered them like animals... I hate them!

There is silence for a moment, then ANAKIN breaks down, sobbing. PADME takes him into her arms.

Well, you know what Padme says: Kill children once, shame on them; kill them twice, shame on you.

Permalink: 12:35 AM | Comments (2)

Mommy, can we take him home?

I wish some little Aussie kid had said that about me, because then I could have stayed. Do you know how I feel about coming back home? Like this.

In any case, it's sad but true: After 20 hours of flying and a 14-hour jetlag impact, I'm back. Thanks much to Berto and Rob for holding down the fort while I was away. Australia was a truly beautiful place, where we did much exploring -- but during it all, we did not wear fanny packs. It wasn't a style decision, though: In Aussie slang, fanny means vagina. Seriously.

Many funny photos and Australian anecdotes are coming, so stay tuned.

Permalink: 05:24 PM | Comments (5)

Mopping up

OK, Jason landed last night, so he should be back and in business in a day or so (give the brother some time to shake off a 13-hour time difference). Thanks for putting up with the general crankiness in my posts these last two weeks. Hopefully, I haven't done too much damage to the site's traffic.

Here are a few last scraps for you:

*What barren and desolate place do we divert airplanes with suspected terrorists inside? Is there an athol or outpost with a landing strip somewhere, so damage to American society can be minimized? Absolutely: Bangor, Maine.

*What happens when the Dead Sea dies? I have a theory: Run! Run from the Undead Sea!

*Not from this hemisphere? Need a primer on Star Wars? Here's the best one I've seen so far.

*Speaking of Star Wars, here's an older item that still cracks me up: On the Improbability of the Death Star's Trash Compactor.

*And since we're walking down Mcsweeney's memory lane, here's the best thing I ever saw on the site: The journal of a new Cobra recruit.

*And as a final note from me, I pose a question: Why are the two guys on either side of this site's banner touching themselves? Post your answer in the comments section, and Jason will send the winner something free and happyscrappy related.

--Berto

Permalink: 07:55 AM | Comments (5)

A few of Jason's favorite things...

I can't really explain how much it hurt Jason to be away from this blog for so long, and as such, I feel a certain responsibility to post Jason-type material. Clearly, I don't write in that Feiferian style so beloved by everyone who comes here every day, but I can pick on some themes that I know stirs Jason's gravy.

Like 24! Jason's such a Bauer fan that he actually had personalized 24 t-shirts made. So I'll bet a fiver that Jason would have been extremely interested in this Salon piece about how everything in 24 is pretty suspect, but even defense and intelligence experts love the show.

Jason also hates stupidity, so he'd love to hate Larry Summers. After getting excoriated for making what was really not a sexist comment at all*, he's apologized like 40 times and now is throwing $50 million at a program clearly designed to quell cranks on campus. It's just the newest bullet on the long, long list of reasons to hate Harvard University.

I certainly support efforts to diversify staff and faculty on campus, but to do it under duress like this is craven. Why weren't these efforts in place before? Either the program was needed, and Harvard turned a blind eye to the problem until it was politically expedient to do so, or it's not really needed, and this is $50 million worth of window dressing to save Summers' ass. Either way, this sucks.

Jason also loves Oil Can Boyd, and wholeheartedly supports his independent-league comeback!

Ok, that's not true. But I love Oil Can Boyd, and I wholeheartedly support his independent-league comeback! Boyd (who's real name is Dennis) was one of my first favorite baseball players when I was a kid, no doubt because he had the same nickname as the bad guy from Mighty Mouse.

--Berto

*If I were to believe the shorthand that news outlets use when talking about Summers, I would believe he said something awful and sexist. But I bothered to read the news stories, and found that he asked his hypothetical question about women in science in the context of hard, unpopular things universities must examine, if only to prove they aren't true. There's a huge difference there, and since America has divorced itself from all things subtle, no one bothers to understand that difference.

Permalink: 07:45 AM | Comments (0)

Table Scraps:

*Can TV make you smarter? A guy just wrote a book saying, yeah, it can. Slate's TV critic disagrees. Watch them talk past each other!

*Keith Olbermann has an idea for the World Trade Center site: Rebuild the towers, but with one big difference.

*Waste time at work here.

*When you're done with that, waste more time here.

--Berto

Permalink: 07:47 AM | Comments (1)

Shape up or ship out

Sorry guys (and Roberto), I've been slacking on my blogger duties. And now look, I'm blogging about myself. Perfect. Well, while we're on the topic I'll confess that I have post-vacation blues. I've been slumming around my apartment nailing things to my desk and then trying to steal them. I also bought a Bible to put in my dresser drawer that I pick up and thumb through occasionally when I forget who begat Isaac or when exactly it was that God created the heaven and earth. And just now I put my open suitcases in my closet rather than unpack everything into the drawers because I'll just end up going on another vacation next year and why waste the precious moments that I have at home putting my shirts on the hangers? It wouldn't make sense.

But what I like about a blog is that there are no rules. Nothing written in a blog even has to be true. Heck, it's just like being a journalist.

--Rob

Permalink: 12:11 AM | Comments (2)

The Gays control our scientists! Don’t believe in science!

So the gays are at it again. The gay cartels have somehow convinced a scientific outfit to issue a study showing that the scent of a man’s sweat causes the same reaction’s in a gay man’s brain as it does in a woman’s brain. So there’s even more proof that homosexuality is genetic and not a choice. So sayeth science, although it must have clearly coerced into that conclusion by, I dunno, Hollywood or someone.

As if gay-bashers will accept science as proof that being gay is genetic. Hell, reactionaries and fundamentalists are still fighting about evolution. They understand something that the rest of us fools will never get: The only valid proof is that which confirms what you believe.

But science aside, this doesn’t change anything. The gays have ruined Julia-Louis Dreyfus’ marriage, for God’s sake. What else do we need to know?

--Berto

Permalink: 07:59 AM | Comments (2)

The Amish heart Costco

While I was in Lancaster, PA this weekend I snuck my friend into a Costco (since we're not members) so he could use the bathroom. On our way out we saw the horse & buggy ties that the Amish tie their horse & buggies to while they're shopping at the store. For a people who feel that you're stealing their soul when you take their picture, I'm afraid they'll be doing a lot of soul searching after signing a membership agreement with corporate America.

And Costco's not just hopeful either. Fresh poop marked 3 of the 4 parking spaces.

[There would be a picture of poop here if I didn't forget to take one. A picture, that is.]

--Rob

Permalink: 08:18 PM | Comments (1)

The Lord giveth the Democrats a moron in North Carolina

Leave it to Jason to leave town, and place in charge of the site two guys who also aren’t in town. So to make up for the days of silence, I meagerly offer up this Sunday post. I’ll charge the overtime to Jason’s account.

We’ll start with something that will make Jason puke, should he take a peek at the site while in Australia. A pastor in North Carolina last week booted nine members of his church. What did they do, the godless bastards? They voted for John Kerry. Other members of the church, both Republican and Democrat, have left the flock in protest.

What’s happening here? Does this pastor know that he just gave the entire fundamentalist right a black eye? Add to this Pat Robertson’s insight’s that the American judges are a greater threat to America than the 9-11 terrorists, and the entire Terry Shiavo intervention, and we have the makings of an entire political movement forcing itself into obscurity.

The insane born-again posse has taken the wheel and is jerking the GOP into a bridge embankment. And I love it. The American public is finally seeing what’s been well-known in political circles for a long time: The hardest elements of the extreme right have wrested control of the Republican Party and are attempting to push through fundamental changes in how this country does business. In the process, they have alienated the independents who were under whelmed with Kerry and the Democrats last year.

The proof of all this comes next fall in the mid-term elections. If the Dems can push a reform agenda and highlight GOP excess and extremism, they should gain back a number of seats and create some real momentum.

--Berto

Permalink: 04:17 PM | Comments (3)

Sneaky Sneaker Idea

When I open my new shoe store (something I've long been aspiring to do after I pay my dues to this guest blogging gig) I won't have a lot of startup capital so I'll need to cut costs wherever I can. First, I'll buy small display cases and then work my way up. I'll be saving costs but I won't be able to fit very many shoes in a little display box and I'll lose customers who are window shopping at my trendy, haute couture boutique.

Solution: Display tiny shoes.

--Rob

Permalink: 09:24 AM | Comments (0)

I go down under, these guys come up

Photo credit: My sister, currently in Oz

Sad as it may be, it’s time for you and me to part ways -- but only temporarily. I’ll be enjoying myself in sunny Australia from May 5 to 19, skipping around the continent as I try not to get bitten by one of the quadrillion deadly snakes and bugs they’ve got over there. I’ve wanted to go there since I was a wee lad, so this is all quite exciting. Did you know I once hung a map of Australia over my bed? I did. Really. For almost an entire year. I’m totally a dork.

But the thought of leaving you, dear readers, with nothing new on HappyScrappy for two weeks -- 14 whole days! -- was just too painful. So in my absence, I’ve invited two good friends to act as guest bloggers. They are Roberto Scalese and Rob Patrick. In the top photo in this entry, Roberto's disembodied hand is on the very left, and Rob's the guy on the left. This is the first time in the page’s eight-year history that I’ve handed the reins over to someone else, but I trust they’ll keep this ramshackle ship afloat like it’s nobody’s business. They’ll start posting in a day or so.

Enjoy, and have a great two weeks. I know I will.

Permalink: 04:02 PM | Comments (3)

Blair gets it wrong... again

Jayson Blair, in his tireless quest to solicit simpathy, never ceases to reinforce how simply sloppy and awful a writer he really is. In an essay (in pdf format) for bp, a magazine for people with bipolar disorder, he starts off with the same tired boo-hoo cries about him being caught making things up in the New York Times. Then he fires off this cliche:

In a matter of a few years, I had gone from being a rising star reporter at The New York Times to a discheveled, drug-addictde alcoholic whose mind was still ravaged after getting clean and sober. Like Icarus, I soared like an eagle, but fell with a shattered wing.

Is that so, Jayson? Because, uh, Icarus fell with melted wings. And that's wings, as in more than one.

Seriously now: Why the hell do people keep publishing Jayson Blair? Wasn't his failed book enough proof that nobody cares what he has to say?

Permalink: 07:45 AM | Comments (0)

One story and a 24-hour news cycle

Please note: For reasons too dumb to explain, almost all the links in this post were broken yesterday. They're now fixed. Thanks.

Did anybody happen to catch the serious coverage cable news stations gave to the dopey runaway bride story recently? I was stunned. They treated it like a real, serious news story, instead of the quirky water cooler item that it is. I first heard of it after she was found, when some website linked to an AP piece. I read, I chuckled, I moved on. But cable news somehow thought this was an actual story. Like, real news. Why not spend dozens of hours seriously investigating other throwaway doozies, like the two men arrested for making a snowman with a penis, or the man who was caught shoplifting and then fell into a case of meat in a supermarket?

ANDERSON COOPER: Good evening, everyone. Tonight we have a shocking question, with an equally shocking answer: Is your meat safe from criminals? CNN correspondent Keith Oppenheim says no, and he has the details.

KEITH OPPENHEIM: A shoplifter in your sausage? A robber in your roast beef? Yes, Anderson, on the eve of an incident which shocked the nation, when a man fleeing police fell into a case of meat, people across the country are demanding to know the same thing: What is keeping their meat from becoming the landing pad... of local criminals?

JANE AGGERDY, RESIDENT OF TULSA: I feed my children hamburgers for lunch and dinner. If my meat is lying around just waiting for criminals to fall on it, how can I be sure my children are safe and healthy? It’s just really, really scary.

COOPER: Frightening thoughts, Keith. We have to go to a commercial, but coming up next on 360, we’ll be talking with representative of the meat industry about how this awful tragedy could have been prevented. But first, let’s check in with Judy Woodruff, who has been stationed outside the supermarket all night. Judy, you’re still with us?

JUDY WOODRUFF: I am, Anderson. It looks like they just threw away the contaminated hot dogs, and my sources inside say they’ll next be looking at the pork loins.

COOPER: Thanks, Judy. Stay tuned. I’m Anderson Cooper.

Somehow, this absurd coverage wasn't lambasted, or simply turned off. I was startled by this exchange in an online chat with Washington Post media reporter Howard Kurtz:

Permalink: 08:24 AM | Comments (3)

Table scraps:

♣REMEMBER THE MEMORY game called Simon? Turns out, it's a lot harder to play when it's spinning around. Be sure to check out the "nightmare" level.

♣LAURA BUSH, CRACKING wise about George on their Crawford ranch: "George didn't know much about ranches when we bought the place. Andover and Yale don't have a real strong ranching program. But I'm proud of George. He's learned a lot about ranching since that first year when he tried to milk the horse. What's worse, it was a male horse." Plenty's been written about her gag session at the annual press dinner, but finally someone posted the full transcript. And then, here's a piece about the guy who actually wrote the jokes.
♣TWO POSTS FROM one blog that I enjoyed: A fan lashes out at the author of a negative review, and an ode to a car that drove itself dry.

♣AGAIN, MITCH ALBOM makes me want to puke. As I noted here, he screwed up big in a recent column. Now he’s back, writing a sappier-than-ever column (because he’s incapable of anything else) in which he yet again tries brushing off the mistake, even as he opines about how much he learned from the experience. He writes: “I made a careless mistake in a column. It wasn't malicious. It didn't harm the subjects. But it was factually incorrect in four paragraphs. I assumed something would happen that didn't. That was wrong.” Ok, stop with the qualifiers, Mitch. You made a careless mistake. It was wrong. That’s what you need to say -- not that it wasn’t so bad, or that it was harmless. It was a mistake. It was wrong. Own up or shut up.

♣WHO DIDN'T PAY attention in math class? Me! Me! And yesterday, when I needed to calculate a percentage of something for work, I was thrilled to find this gem on the web.

♣AND THEN, THERE'S this. (via Magnolia Glen)

Permalink: 08:21 AM | Comments (1)

London bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down...

Heat photo. Kids photos.

Maybe in the next playoff round, the Heat can engage in a friendly game of duck-duck-goose.

Permalink: 09:42 AM | Comments (2)

Cruising the galaxy in a pick-up truck

Left: Amazingly, the cinema where I saw "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" managed to misspell the name of the movie on the ticket. Right: Graphical representation of the movie Loews Boston Common thought I was going to see.

Permalink: 01:42 AM | Comments (7)