... and the lady says to the bartender, "Where's that asshole Antonio Cosme Velasco Soriano, who bragged about raping my daughter?"
And the bartender says, "That's him right there: the guy grabbing his crotch at you."
"Gracias," the lady says, and she marches to the back of the room, tosses the bottle's contents onto the crotch-grabbing asshole, and sets him on fire.
The next day, a judge ordered her to be held in prison and undergo psychiatric tests, provoking anger from friends and neighbours, who have set up a petition calling for her release.
Seriously. Mom there is perfectly sane.
The judge knows it, the bartender knew it, and all those uninjured bar patrons knew, too, that Antonio was committing suicide by mama.
Of course she threw petrol on him and set him on fire. That's what happens.
"Any property may now be taken for the benefit of another private party, but the fallout from this decision will not be random," O'Connor wrote. "The beneficiaries are likely to be those citizens with disproportionate influence and power in the political process, including large corporations and development firms."
The Pentagon (is compiling) data given over by schools under the No Child Left Behind Act [...] to help identify students as young as 16 to target for military recruiting. The database includes an array of personal information, including birth dates, Social Security numbers, e-mail addresses, grade point averages, ethnicity and what subjects the students are studying. The Pentagon hired the Massachusetts-based company BeNow [...] to circumvent laws that restrict the government's right to collect or hold citizen information.
The system also gives the Pentagon the right -- without notifying the students -- to share the data outside the military, including with law enforcement, state tax authorities and Congress. "This [...] helps bolster the effectiveness of all the services' recruiting and retention efforts."
I'm sure it will.
"We'll ruin your credit rating, kid. Unless you've got a line on new fingerprints and irises, you'll stay right here with us."
This morning we awoke to find a new offering in the iguana-spot: a small, well-used Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles skateboard.
Ash says thanks.
Enough, already. Youth Brigade was just kidding. Right?
Bluetear is aware that her kitten might not live a full life.
“I kind of feel sorry for her."
She now has plans to market the [mutant] cats on the Internet.
I was just telling the illustrious SpaceCheese about Ash's curious behavior - for a few days now he's been climbing in through his window to scamper halfway through the house, yell at me with some urgency, then scurry back outside just as soon as I let him wriggle from my grasp - when a 5.1 earthquake reportedly hit The Geysers, and I'm all "Mm. As in 'the volcanic vent a couple hours north of here." Turns out there was also a 7.0 in Eureka. And a 7.9 in Chile yesterday.
Later: ok, the tsunami alert was for 15 minutes. It's been 23 minutes. Where's my beer?
Even later: and now a 3.0, right on top of Crystal Springs, betw. the San Andreas and San Gregorio. Neat.
My most recent corpse of the exquisite persuasion was posted today. Other recent posts include this extra corpse-y corpse, this NSFW one, this arguably safer one, and this cute little bear. Aw.
If there's one thing* I've gleaned from the Gotham Writer's Workshop, it's that the majority of novice novelists revel in long passages of exposition and believe devoutly in the power of the droning expository speech. My patience for indolence wanes quickly, though, and my questioning is sometimes received as so much sacrilege, so I'm guessing that my present cohort (all but three seem to have have dropped out) will feel vindicated by the impending "The Historian" hypefest.
At least Janet Maslin's got my back:
Perhaps even the undead can be talked to death.
"You've heard of Vlad Tepes - the Impaler?" Prof. Bartholomew Rossi asks Paul, his student, early in the novel. "Really among the nastiest of all medieval European tyrants. It's estimated that he slaughtered at least 20,000 of his fellow Wallachians and Transylvanians over the years."
She has Professor Rossi explain that the word Dracula refers to the Holy Roman Empire's Order of the Dragon. She lets the professor reveal how "at the end of the 19th century, a disturbed and melodramatic author - Abraham Stoker - gets hold of the name Dracula and fastens it on a creature of his own invention, a vampire."
The vampire's power to inflict misery pales beside that of the book's contorted narrative structure. "The Historian" begins in 1972 as an account by Paul's daughter, who is looking back on these events, and whose introduction to the novel is dated Jan. 15, 2008. Her reflections are interspersed with Paul's long story, which he laboriously put into writing. Paul spends much of the book with Helen Rossi, who will eventually be the mother of his child, the original narrator, as they search for Professor Rossi - Helen's father - after he disappears.
Helen writes too, but only brief notes. This automatically makes her the book's most likeable character[...]
Ow, my ribs. When Janet Maslin hates a book, she's almost Kakutanian.
"There are 28 teeth,'' said Dr. Richard Johnson, a dentist at the Utah State Prison and the Utah County Jail. "[...] sometimes you just have to dig 'em out.''
There's been a lot of talk about "meth mouth" in the news lately, but if propaganda helps people to pay the tiniest iota of attention to their health then perhaps such yellow journalism is worth consideration. Just as worthy, though, is the consideration of fact-checking:
Adult humans are outfitted with 32 teeth.
Many insured Americans have their third molars extracted* at some point (usually on a Friday), but unless Utah has some socialized health care system that mandates such typically elective oral surgery he's got no excuse. Maybe "there are" is shorthand for "on average my patients present with", but I doubt it: I wouldn't hazard a guess at the average inmate's dentition, but I hear prison diets pretty much suck. The only other explanation is that Dr. Johnson is a pediatric dentist: if AP is to be believed, the Utah prison system is full of 12-14 year olds with nasty jaw-grinding habits and bright pink fingers and nostrils.
"We're here to preach to this generation that it's not all right to be gay,'' said Betty Phelps of Topeka, who carried one sign thanking God for the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks and another denouncing gays. "They need to learn some morals before Judgment Day."
Nine of the 13 protesters were members of the Phelps family.
If you're going to call up a newspaper reporter to defend your keeping of an untrained, undisciplined, mating pair of pit bulls in your apartment after they kill your eldest son, maybe you should practice your story a few times to make sure you get it straight.
"I put him (in the basement) with a shovel on the door,'' said Faibish, who had left the boy alone with the dogs on June 3 (The boy had not been to school on Friday, and a school attendance clerk who attempted to call the family home found the line had been disconnected.) to run some errands. "He had a bunch of food."
Before she left the house, Faibish sent her 9-year-old son to the store to buy Nicholas a soda, bagel and chips.
"And I told him, 'Stay down there until I come back.' Typical Nicky, he wouldn't listen to me.''
"Nicky was happy down there," she said.
The room was filled with plastic bags in preparation of their move. She figured the dogs would have destroyed the bags filled with clothes. "I'm not mad at my dogs. I just love them to death.''
Ella was trained to lick her makeup off.
She spoke of Rex waking Nicholas and her up in the morning by licking their faces.
She would never want Rex back in their house.
"Absolutely not,'' Faibish said. "I told them I wanted him put down. I think of Rex as someone who molested my child, murdered my child.''
"I used to say to Ella, just go ahead and let him do it," Faibish said. "Get it over with.''
"He's the most loving and giving dog in the world,'' she insisted. "There were no violent tendencies in him at all.''
At a parent-teacher conference last week, my daughter and her husband were told their 4-year-old daughter is "innocent" compared to some of the other little girls in her class who are obsessed with boys. They chase them and try to kiss them.
That's not sexy.
That's cooties.
Focus Adolescent Service says 42 percent of the top songs of 1999 contained sexual content, and the lyrics of 2005 are far more explicit than they were five years ago. Music videos show graphic scenes of intercourse and oral sex at a rate of 93 per hour.
That's not sexy, either. What the heck t.v. station are these peoples' kids staring dumbly at (instead of reading literature, with instruction and guidance), with the 1.55 completed acts per minute?
Ten bucks says Hummer is the primary sponsor.
A police spokeswoman said: "The owners reported this morning they had found what they are calling a ransom note, along with part of the Dalek. Wookey Hole manager Daniel Medley told BBC News: "The arm has been removed quite carefully, it hasn't been ripped off, there's no torture involved."
You know what sucks?
When you wake up in the middle of the night because the refrigerator motor won't stop running, and you turn the temperature down to shut said motor off and then a few days later reach inside for a tasty tangerine lime soda and go to set it on your desk and find that it won't set.
Because the can is convex where you expected concavity.
Because it froze.
Happily it refused to explode and instead popped very neatly open without spilling a drop.
via PopBitch:
Bobby... helped his wife with her constipation by inserting his fingers to massage it out. Whitney says,"When I told my girlfriends about it, they said 'That's real love, baby. That's real black love.'"
WOW makes with a clip: I don't need it for my butt.
Someone has stolen Ash's iguana. It looks like they took it sometime this morning, after it had already been raining (!) for a couple hours: there is nought but a muddy iguana-shaped puddle where once he stood. If someone happened by our house sooo high on hallucinogens that it spoke to them and they just *had* to take it home and stick it on their altar or turntable or whatever, that'd be one thing. But who's tripping that hard at 7am - even here in Berkeley?
Ash wandered back and forth across the porch, the stairs, and the sidewalk meowing his bafflement at its loss. And think of the squirrels! The iguana's tail made a handy sort of nut-nibbling blind. And every day countless small children who wander by on their way to Totland and dare their mommies and daddies to touch it, only to squeal their superior knowledge of realistic stone-cast reptiles at the moment of highest iguana-touching tension.
I wonder if whomever took it even noticed the webcam that monitors our entry porch 24/7. "Oooh, pretty green light... Hey! An iguana!" We'd better see him soon – either perched on our porch with repaired forepaws and a handmade jaunty little elfin cap, or posing for snapshots while enjoying Viennese garden salads – or there will be severe consequences. (What, you didn't think we had another, more agressive lizard waiting in the wings for just such an opportunity?)
Charity Lynn Sato, 20, [...] said, "Mommy, I was drunk. I don't remember.''
You may be a cracker if... this makes one iota of sense.
Gov. Matt Blunt [...] ordered the (Confederate) flag to be flown [...] in honor of the annual Confederate Memorial Day celebration.“Some people have misused the flag,” said Trish Spencer, president of the Independence chapter of the United Daughters of the Confederacy and one of the event's organizers. “This is the correct use — honoring [ignorance, laziness, and cowardice].”
thanks be to bitch
One has to wonder what wouldn't test positive for meth in In East Bumf*ck, MO, and then how much would have to be present for visual analysis. Let's presume for a moment that said powdered crystalline substance has properties similar to other powdered crystalline substances like salt, or sugar, or baby laxative: if the time elapsed between QPwC prep and nibbling then subsequent inspection is greater than 30 seconds, you'd expect the substance to have melted invisibly into the surrounding burger strata. Even if it was the veggie kind. And this was the greasy-slab-o-beef variety, complete with processed cheese food. Visible residue suggests that the police officer's burger had a street value of upwards of $100.
And the suspect works at McDonald's.
What McDonald's working tweaker would sacrifice that amount of drugs for a prank?
What McDonald's working tweaker would want to be stuck there sober?
It was probably just stevioside.