Will Somebody Buy These Idiots Atlases?

Picture via Passionate America

On Friday night I saw Democratic presidential candidate Christopher Dodd interviewed on ABC News. In the course of the interview empty suit/fake journalist Charles Gibson asked Dodd about the birth of his daughter on September 13th, 2001. Dodd hit us with the revelation that one of the doctors attending the birth was Pakistani and the other from Afghanistan. He pointed out that this meant that there is good in everyone, even people from a region that had "just attacked us". Dodd is running on the back of his "extensive foreign policy experience".

Setting aside the stunningly casual racism implied by this remark, do we really consider someone who lumps terrorists from Saudi Arabia, UAE, Lebanon, and Egypt with doctors from Pakistan and Afghanistan qualified for the office of president? If this bonehead said that he'd met nice Greeks despite the fact that they elected Hitler and invaded Poland he'd be rightly pelted with mud in the village square. But because he's talking about brown people he's still taken seriously as an outside shot for the White House. Breathtaking.

At least he has the excuse of being a mere politician. National Public Radio maven Linda Wertheimer on the other hand is described as an experienced and knowledgeable journalist with 3 decades of reporting around the world under her belt. With that in mind, I wonder then why she asked veteran political commentator Daniel Schorr on Saturday if President Bush would be making time during his upcoming swing through the middle east to "visit Pakistan".

To his credit, Schorr barely disguised his amazed snort that this question provoked. He concentrated on the security implications of taking the president of the United States to a country where one of the leading politicians had just been assassinated, potentially by Al Qadea, but you could sense that he was itching to get out a map and sit Wertheimer down to show her that a body of water called the Indian Ocean seperates the Arabian penninsula from Pakistan. If she didn't understand that, perhaps he could have used a parallel, something like:

"Linda, the American equivalent of what you just suggested would be Air Force One landing in Chicago and George Bush deplaning and deciding that he'd just pop down the road to see how reconstruction was going in New Orleans."

And yet she is regarded as a wise voice of experience and rare sagacity. Jesus.

Dodd and Wertheimer- dick for brains and empty vessel.

Are Prescription Ads Bad Performance Art?

Yet another wonderfully vile advertisement for prescription medication is doing the rounds on American TV. It is standard in this field that the level of butterflies and flowers in the ad are in inverse proportion to the general squirm-inducing nature of the malady the drug is intended to treat. A classic of the genre, this one is for a prescription laxative.

Setting aside how horrendously egg-bound one must be to need a prescription strength laxative, what really grates are the contraindication warnings. Apparently, those afflicted with severe diarrhea should not take the prescription laxative. Presumably this is the scatalogical equivalent of matter and anti-matter. You have been warned. If you have the squirts, don't take the roto-rooter pill lest the universe implode or something.

What sort of maniac would do that? If you have the shits, is the first thought that crosses your mind really "Ooooh- a powerful laxative should help me feel better!"? Jesus.

Yuck. Sorry for sharing.

Now With Real Animal Meat!

Campbell's are running ads for their "chunky soup" line touting the presence of "farm grown vegetables" in their recipes.

As opposed to what?

Sometimes, Even the Queen has to wait for the Bus

And also on the subject of royalty, here is a gag I found via BBDO that made me spit tea, I found it so shockingly hillarious (disclaimer: not suitable for monarchists, nice people, fans of the cult of Princess Diana):

If Quebec Leaves, Maybe We Can Join Canada

Proof that the NFL Network is involved in some sort of intricate kick-back scheme with New England's bar owners:

Fans’ no-win scenario: Many in N.E. may miss record game

Because Time Warner are cheap and because the NFL Network is greedy, most Mainers (and Vermonters, New Hampshirites, and even some Massholes) aren't going to be able to see the final regular season Pats game on proper TV. If the Pats beat the Dolphins tomorrow the game against the Giants on the 27th might result in the first undefeated team since Miami in 1972 (and the most victories in the regular season by any team, ever). It won't be on TV up here however because the NFL took the game for its own fledgling network, a network that cable companies don't want to pay over the odds for (and nobody seems to be clamoring to watch most of the time- not even for shows featuring Andy Reid's parenting advice or contraception tips from Tom Brady).

I don't give a crap about the cable politics, nor do I particularly care to see Rich Eisen's fat and unfunny head on my TV screen on a regular basis. Like many up here, I would like to have the option to see each of the very few NFL games played each year during their pathetically short season. This is like when those asses on the Weather Channel stand with their heads in front of Maine on the map while discussing a big storm; we can't get any respect up here from the less rugged bits of American broadcasting (bass fishing shows? Check. Stuff we actually want to watch? Nope).

We don't have much else to sustain us- it is cold, dark, everything is covered in dirty, old crusted snow, and it is only December. Show the damn game, assholes.

Happy Christmas

Last year I offered up Slade. This year, Wizzard:

Why is a Down East Divorce Like a Tornado?

...In both situations you lose the trailer.

Ripped from the headlines of today's local paper:

Rockland man rescued after being pinned under mobile home

He'd have been better off with an igloo, which would have been pretty easy to come by in these parts this month. I don't know which is more distressing: the way-too-early cumulative mountains of snow (even for Old Timey Maine) or the blizzard of idiots proclaiming smugly, "So much for this global warming, ayuh!"

Because as we all know, a life in small town Maine after getting a degree from the school of hard knocks qualifies one as an expert climatologist, more capable of pronouncing on global environmental trends than an army of dedicated scientists.

Wow

While I have a deep respect for their intellectual approach to metal I can't stand System of a Down's music, so I have never paid them much attention. This morning however I happened to turn to VH1 while eating breakfast and caught the video for "Empty Walls", the new solo effort by SoD's front man Serj Tankian:



Brilliant in so many ways.

Nerd Alert! Nerd Alert!

(snuffle) Wow- December 16th and all this snow already? Nobody told me I'd moved to Hoth! (chokes on yoohoo, dribbles down acrylic shirt).

If You Don't Stop It, You'll Go Blind

President Bush yesterday, commenting on the Mitchell Report into steroid use in professional baseball:

"I understand the impact that professional athletes can have on our nation's youth. I just urge those in the public spotlight, particularly athletes, to understand that when they violate their bodies, they're sending a terrible signal to America's youth."

Did the president just call major league ballplayers a bunch of wankers? Although hairy palms can lead to a poor grip on either the bat or split-fingered fastball.

"Hey Laura! I hear some of the black players have got ones this big!"

The Mitchell Report

Gagne Proves Steroids Don't Work

Reporters Ask Pettitte, "When Would Jesus Juice?"

Clemens Insists he's a Natural Asshole: No Need to Take Drugs To Get That Way

In other news:

• A Rod ruins complete strangers' day by announcing new bat endorsement deal in middle of their wedding.
• Baseball's Steroid Era: ESPN pundits blame Belichick, Patriots.
• Mike Mussina insists "Moose Tracks" refers to ice cream, not injection sites
• Youkilis' chin under scrutiny: illegal facial Rogaine use?

(For my British and overseas chums, The Mitchell Report )

The Much Anticipated Holiday Gift Guide 2007

For the past two years it has been my distinct honour to offer up a humble selections of goodies that might appeal to readers in search of gift ideas for their loved ones. This year let us brook no exception, and plunge (collectively weeping) into:

Wisdom Weasel's Holiday Gift Guide, 2007.
Yeah, He hath spoken typed

I did make that bit above blink but it was really annoying. Lets get to the gifts!

If you have to tolerate a numismatist in your life why not annoy the hell out of them with fake coins? Specifically, fake state quarters. My personal pick is Texas:


Although New York flipping everyone off is pretty good too.

For those of you resigned to eating fish on Friday and taking contraceptive advice from an elderly German who believes wankentuggen to be a mortal sin, why not wow the ladies with the whiff of Pope? Not Alexander Pope, but rather Pope Pius IX's cologne.

You'll need the Swiss Guards to beat back the horde of mitre-hungry women.

Too phallocentric? Well, here's one for the ladies. Celebrate the fact that your leg hair is so long it's growing out on your moustache and a hairy mole just by your left ear with a Velvet Vulva purse. Not only does the bag have the power to render you unable to spell the word "magical", it also will separate the true new men from the boys at the local whole food co-op. If said fellow can look at your purse without blushing or grimacing he is truly worthy to worship at your musk temple. Buy yourself one today for winter solstice, because chances are if you are considering this purse your significant other is either made of plastic or is an utter wuss.

Now if that was all too much for the hairy knuckled bloke types out there, rinse your memory clean with these:

Shower Breasts: no better way to show you are single (and to stay that way).

Everyone has a drunk who is near death in their family. Instead of all those tiresome interventions and drying out clinics, why not bow to the inevitable and buy the old sot one of these:



Chances are you'll get it back in the will, given that old drunks are pretty sentimental, so think of it less as a gift and more as a deferred investment.

Love installation art? Love music? Hate Italians? Get one of these.

If you happen to be a Scottish born leader of a G-8 nation eager to win back the respect of your electorate while putting clear blue water between yourself and your predecessor, why not invest in a poisoned chalice? Give Basra back to the sectarianly divided Iraqis. You'll get less of these:


But those poor sods in Southern Iraq will get more of these:


But they are used to it, eh? And now that Belfast has gone quiet, we Brits need somewhere for urban warfare training. I mean, without a divided and violent city to wade into occasionally, how are we going to trumpet our peacekeeping expertise?

OK, finally (thank god, eh?): for the person who has everything, facial lunch meat!


Merry Christmas!

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And in return for all of this, if you want to get me a present, track down the region 1 DVD of this:

R Kelly's Dream Weekend?

Also trapped in a toilet
This might be the worst episode of that Bear Grylls show ever:

Man's four days trapped in toilet
A man spent four days trapped in a toilet after the door handle broke (the rest...)

Poor git should have heeded the ancient Scottish saw, "Afore ye squat above yon pan, be quite assure'd ye can work yon han.....dle. Shit. It doesnae scan."

I endured a vaguely similar survival situation, having to eat my underpants in 1996 in an attempt to feign madness and thus escape the world's most tedious dinner party (to that point in recorded history). Those were the longest two hours of my life and I truly feared for my survival.

I also rafted the Amazon using just a ballcock and a toilet duck.

Final Florida

This is traditionally quite a prolific posting time for me: a glance through the archives shows multiple December posts all the way back to 2004. I have to admit to being a little slow out of the gate this year, but I will make amends (not least with the traditional holiday gift guide that will follow this week at some point).

I do however have an appointment with a dozen chestnuts, some buerre blanc sauce, yorkshire puddings, and half a pound of brussel sprouts this afternoon (I have been quite an ambitious cook this weekend with- so far- homemade naan bread, lemon cornmeal shortbread, black bean soup, clam & panko stuffed portabella, nori bites, pomegranate iced tea, seaweed salad, and egg glazed sesame seed bagels under my belt). Therefore more expansive posts will have to wait another day and instead I will finish up with a last few pics from our hols.

I call this little series "Fear of a Clown Planet":

This Is Not A Baby Blog

Dictators and demogogues throughout time, a pictoral history:

Lenin, V.I.

Mussolini, B.

Chavez, H.

Weasel, S.C.

Back Home

Back in Maine a few days and already facing the prospect of 8 to 14 inches of snow after a wicked cold weekend.

Secretly I quite like it, but don't let anyone know.

As you can imagine things are hectic and so this post is perforce short. But I thought I would at least share a few photos from Florida as an interim measure.

Idiot boy tries to teach daughter to swim

Roast turkey on the beach

Alligator!