May 06, 2005

Around the horn

It's been a looonnngg while since I've posted a linkfest. Funny how having a second child keeps me busy when I'm at home. Anyway, here goes something:

After reading this short post from Michele, I started wondering how many freaks will come out of the woodwork on June 6 next year.

This week's sign that the Apocalypse is upon us: Baby Got Books. Blame Ace, not me. Oh, and Ace also provides more evidence that Bill Mahrer is steaming pile of pigshit. Not that you didn't know that already. And no offense to pigs, of course.

Anyone can create a sculpture out of marble. You know, chip off a piece here and there until it looks like a cow having an orgasm or something. Harvey points me towards some people with real freaking talent: they build sculptures out of sand. Check out this one.

Claire Wolfe links to a study that proves, uh, beats me. Think I'll go watch some cartoons.

Is "Weird" Al gearing up for another presidential run? Kevin at Wizbang isn't sure. Maybe he's just inventing his next technological marvel. Sure, he created the Internet and all, but what has he done for us lately?

Andrea Harris doesn't think much of the rules that supposedly define blogs. Excerpt:

"Blog" is short for "web log," which term derives from regular record books or "logs," which are a form of journal or diary, and must have at minimum some sort of separation indicator (like a date, usually but not necessarily a permalink) between separate posts, and old posts must be archived in some fashion. Most blogs use some sort of software that enables the user to automatically update and archive his entries; others handcode their sites. But the idea that everyone must uniformly add gewgaws like counters and links to offsite databases that will only slow down their sites and clutter them up with distracting items in order for their sites to be considered a "real blog" is ridiculous, like saying a vehicle without an expensive stereo system and so on is not really a car.

Look up the word "douchebag" in the encyylopedia and I'll bet this guy's picture is there. Excerpt:

That's one reason why Avner is leaving the tiny East County community where he has lived for six years and moving to Washington state. There's not much demand in San Diego County for a computer and electronics technician with tattooed stripes on his face and fangs in his mouth.

No shit. Thanks to Mean Mr. Mustard 2.0 for finding the link.

Word of the day is Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia, found via The Corner. Definition? Fear of the number 666.

I have no comment on the article Annie links to in this post. Wait, I do: ugh.

Mike links to a story that proves yet again that Pat Robertson is big, fucking joke.

The Donovan offers a WWI era poem as a caption for an image on his site. Quite moving, unless your heart is made of stone.

Darren refers to a story of a guy who lived with a bullet in his head. For 17 years. That's NOT using your head.

Graumagus links to a cartoon that, were I to laugh at with my wife nearby, would make the living room couch my new bed. Mheh.

You know why I read blogs? Sometimes it's for the people you meet online. Sometimes it's for the humor and ranting. The rest of the time it's because the quality of writing is simply incredible. Go read. Now.

Those of us on the conservative side of the political fence have our own assholes to deal. Thanks, guys. You'v provided an early campaign topic for the Democrats in 2006 ad infinitum. Link via Hog On Ice.

And a double shot from Hog On Ice, mainly because he says what I(and every other red-blooded American) has been thinking:

What is it with Paula Abdul? Most women fall apart in their senior year of college. The rest get immensely fat right after their weddings. Or were ugly to begin with. But Paula looks better at 42 than she did at 30. And that little-girl voice...I'd make her put on a frilly dress and lace panties and patent-leather pumps and talk dirty to me while sucking a giant lollipop. And she's been a bad little girl, so she needs to have her bare bottom spanked.

Moxie writes an open letter to Jennifer, that little dipshit who ran out on her wedding and then inadvertently sicced the police and FBI on her fiance by claiming to have been kidnapped. Good thing she didn't actually die or he'd be facing murder one charges. Excerpt:

Here’s what you should have considered: three years after skipping out on your wedding you will be alone on Christmas, eating Chinese food out of the container with a plastic spork. Your 10 cats will be milling around hungry at your feet. You will kick them away and call all your married girlfriends who will be too busy with their kids and husbands. Maybe you will have one or two divorced girlfriends to commiserate with and wonder why you are still single at 37.

Call ME. I will tell you why. In fact, I’ll tell you why right now. You’re an idiot.

Spoons provides more evidence that the gene pool is in serious need of chlorination. Clarence Stowers is complete and total dick.

More from the zero intelligence front courtesy of Kelley.

Okay, I'm done. There just aren't enough hours in the day.

Posted by Physics Geek at May 6, 2005 03:15 AM StumbleUpon Toolbar Stumble It!

Hmmm. Wunner what it means when you are *married* and have 8 cats... and three dogs... and two horse. And still have the spouse, too...

Ponder ponder ponder.

Posted by: John of Argghhh! at May 6, 2005 09:14 PM

I feel like I'm reading a Glenn Reynolds.

Posted by: Lycan at May 6, 2005 09:52 PM