As the few who have checked in may have noticed, I’ve been updating here sporadically at best. In a way, this is good news—I’ve had less time for the blog because I’ve had more paying freelance work.
I will occasionally still drop some thoughts here, though, and when I do, I will undoubtedly make a huge, self-aggrandizing stink about that fact on my Facebook page and my Twitter feed. So, if you want to make sure you don’t miss anything (hi, Mom), like or follow me at one of those places.
This long-suppressed “Ye OKCupid” selfie seems to show that the young Victoria was actually a solid 6.
Find out today at 4:30 on 105.1-FM The Buzz, when Marty Smith, the “Man” Who “Knows” “Everything” will join Daria, Mitch and Ted to discuss Victoria and other rulers, as we explore precisely how fucking weird people throughout history have tended to get when you make them king, queen, or dictator of something— even small and fairly pointless countries.
Pretty gross. Today at 4:30 on 105.1 The Buzz, I’ll be gross about fungus, and the many horrible things it does to you, me, reindeer, and the unfortunate tarantula below.
Yes, the cordyceps fungus made this tarantula grow antlers. That’s a pretty big “fuck you” from one species to another
Find out tomorrow (Thursday) at 12:45 pm on OPB, 91.5-FM in Portland. My money’s on “no,” but even a blind hog finds an acorn once in a while.
I’ll be appearing as a panelist on Think Out Loud‘s “Culture Club” segment, providing pretty much the exact opposite of what my Willamette Week boss Mark Zusman brings to that program’s Friday “News Roundtable”— which is to say that instead of holding forth with sober, articulate decorum, I’ll be sitting there in a cold panic, sweating profusely and trying not to blurt out some sort of obscene limerick that rhymes “wiener” with “vageener.” Wish me luck, and tune in!
Note the bullet ant’s conservation status of “least concern.” Not because they’re not endangered, but because fuck bullet ants.
Today at 4:30 on 105.1-FM The Buzz, I’ll be talking about bugs, parasites, and other nasty little fuckers, including the bullet ant, owner of the most painful sting on the planet.
I can’t swear on the radio, so please take the following remarks and mentally sprinkle them throughout the segment as you listen: “Fuck,” “Fuck,” “Evil little cocksucker,” “Fuck,” “Holy shit, get it off me,” “Ow, you motherfucker,” “Ow, ow, fuck, ow,” “I am sick and tired of these motherfucking worms in my motherfucking colon.” Thank you.
According to Science Daily, I am immortal:
Older people who have low expectations for a satisfying future may be more likely to live longer, healthier lives than those who see brighter days ahead, according to new research published by the American Psychological Association.
Pretty much the moment I finished pimping my weekly 105.1-FM appearance in my WW column, I got too sick to do it this week. (Also, if you come in contagious and get Daria sick too, she kills you.) Sorry, everybody; we’ll do it next week.
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Hi, Mom
From the Oregonian:
Oregon would become the first state to allow wine drinkers to fill up “growlers” of their favorite vintage at restaurants and stores in addition to wineries under a bill that’s getting four-star reviews at the Legislature.
This raises an issue that’s been bothering me for a while. I’m from the Midwest, where for years the term “growler” has been slang for an act of defecation, aka, a shit. Specifically, “growler” refers (in my recollection, at least) to a shit of such forceful character that it might growl at, or otherwise display aggression toward, its former host—the kind you nervously close the lid on before flushing, because you’re not sure what it might be capable of and you don’t want to find out.
So it came as a shock to me to learn that in Oregon, “growler” referred to a container for beer that’s too artisanal to muster its own bottle. To Midwestern ears, this coinage seemed like a poor PR move, to say the least.
It gets worse: while preparing this post, I decided to support the above assertion with a little research, and checked out “growler” on urbandictionary.com. Take a look. I’ll wait.
While my “gnarly dump” definition is there, it’s blown off the front page by an obviously more popular definition. This is given in many variations, the most printable of which (not that I care) is: “an old, unkempt or generally disgusting vagina.”
I think the poster actually means “vulva,” but either way, you can see that it’s not helping the growler-as-container-for-tasty-beverage people.
For reasons I don’t begin to understand, New York magazine likes to recap Saturday Night Live every week. The recap includes clips. I just checked out some of it. (You can, too! Follow the link!) Also for reasons I don’t understand, NYMag manages to describe, over 1000-plus words, the entire episode without stating the obvious: this episode, like 80% of SNL episodes not involving Tina Fey over the past 32 years, blew. Sucked. Was tediously, horribly, not funny.
Below is an alleged highlight:
I rest my fucking case. There was a good joke in the pope’s retirement, but this wasn’t it. Dear New York: you’re a hip, snarky, Internet-savvy publication—why not just say what we all know? It sucked! ‘Nuff said! Who are we protecting?
I guess it’s not unlikely that, given the geography and ruling-class chumminess involved in the NYC media scene, there has not been a week in the past however-many-years-New-York-magazine-has-been-around where no one at New York was fucking, grappling with having just fucked, or at least hoping to fuck someone at SNL. So, you know, there’s that.
Still, show a little backbone, for Christ’s sake. There’s no reason to recall history’s attention to this episode.
OMG! Thomas Lauderdale was at the State of the Union! Say, who’s that hillbilly he’s sitting with?
The new Hall and Oates
