Walt Brown; he's our man. If he can't do it... Bush or Kerry probably will.
As part of the Global Media Conspiracy loyalty-hazing ritual, I will be spending 12 full hours at the pleasure of my benevolent employer on Election Day. Twelve hours of reading dozens of variations of the same Bush-Kerry story, countless stories on local races, and occasional psychopathic biased e-mails from readers*. What could possibly be more fun?!
A colonoscopy, perhaps. Eating a pound of hair.
They tell me I'll get free pizza out of the deal, though.
Of course, if football results and world opinion are anything to go by, this election is already done.
How was your Halloween? My wife and I were pretty sure no trick-or-treaters would be able to infiltrate the Delta Force-quality security of our apartment building, so we ventured to the sprawling Twin Cities suburb of Bloomington, Minn., in hopes of being able to dispense candy to America's future obesity sufferers.
We bought a bag of Crunch bars, a bag of Butterfingers, a bag of Kit-Kats, a bag of Starburst, and a bag of Hershey's Kisses. My mother already had two bags of what I would describe as "old-lady candy" (we just left those in the cupboard). I was so excited to hand out candy that I even got all dressed up in my kilt.
We got four trick-or-treaters.
There was a ninja and his mummy sister, Dorothy (of "Wizard of Oz" fame -- how outdated is that costume? Her parents clearly weren't trying) and a butterfly. I missed the butterfly because I was down in the basement fixing my mother's dryer.
"That's probably for the best," my brother said. "Those kids don't know what a kilt is. To them, you're just an ugly man in a dress."
On the subject of kilts, I learned this joke from a Vulcan on Saturday:
What does a Scotsman wear underneath his kilt?
Lipstick, if he's lucky.
Last week I linked to the story about the woman who dug up and kept her boyfriend's ashes for more than a decade, but it gets worse: She also drank his beer.
More than 30,000 Americans are killed each year by firearms, but it's the BB guns we're really worried about. That and West Nile virus.
Alice? Who the...?
I guess I'm not up to date on my British monarchy.
I knew a lot of guys in university who could compete in this championship. Oh, wait. Tobacco. Yeah, they could probably do that, too.
Here's a sign that you've taken your love of a sports personality too far: "I am looking at him in person for the first time and he really does look like Jesus."
Wall-to-wall crapeting (yes, I spelled that right).
*We had one e-mail today calling for the deaths of Dan Rather, Peter Jennings, and Helen Thomas -- none of which are under the employ of my benevolent employer.