There's been a story circulating the last few days about a Chinese man, whose "friends," following a drinking party, somehow managed to insert a live eel into his rectum. Tragically, the eel attempted to chew its way out, causing heavy intestinal bleeding which killed the man.
You can read about it here. I wasn't going to link to it. I do attempt to maintain some standards, after all.
Unfortunately, Scott "Dilbert" Adams doesn't share my scruples, and posted the story to his blog:
This tragic situation, which I think we all agree is not funny, raises many questions.
1. With friends like that, who needs enemas?
2. How low did this man set the bar for friends?
3. What were his friends imbibing when they came up with this idea, and how can I get some of that?
4. How difficult is it to insert an eel into a rectum? Did they straighten and freeze the eel a little bit first? Otherwise it seems like trying to push a rope through a keyhole.
5. How did the man sleep through it?
In my own life, I have a strict rule for determining who to call my friends. Rule 46 states that any person who tries to insert a live eel into my rectum is automatically disqualified. If the eel is dead, obviously that's just good fun. I'm not a killjoy.
As a conspiracy enthusiast, I have to wonder if the friends were trying to cover up an even more embarrassing violation of the presumably drunken victim's hindquarters.
Friend 1: "Uh-oh. When he wakes up, he's going to know what we did."
Friend 2: "Not if we put a live octopus in his rectum. That should cover our tracks."
Friend 1: "That's insane! You can't put a live octopus in a rectum!"
Friend 2: "Live eel?"
Friend 1: "Fine. Remind me to never be the first one who falls asleep in this crowd."
Which led to the following comment by "Shadowrider":
When your friends are really crass
and there's an eel up your ass,
That's a moray!
Shocking, shocking. Let's leave Dean Martin out of this, m'kay?
And yet there were some who said he couldn't be trained.
Warning: Might be NSFW, depending on how much of a dick your boss is.
Warning: Marginally NSFW
Did you know that cats can be remarkably passive-aggressive?
SARAH: I don’t get it.
DAD: That’s OK. Neither do most of my students.
Well, my first foray back into the world of blogging about federal politics didn’t go so well the other day, as my piece about Justin Trudeau’s three round love tap with Senator Patrick Brazeau was resoundingly disliked by both Liberals and Conservatives. Liberals, because I dared decry the dauphin his due, and Conservatives because I questioned whether Patrick’s black belt had been dipped in the wrong colour dye.
Indeed, one fellow who commented on my blog suggested both his three-year-old son and Brazeau would maul me in the ring, should my courage ever approach a level whereby I would be willing to test myself against both a politician and a toddler. And while I suggest the fellow might be correct about his son, I’m still not going to give poor Patrick a break here. And anyway, being beaten by a three-year-old would not be some kind of great feat, as my own children can attest in victories of both a physical, but more definitely a psychological nature.
Funny stuff from Adrian.
In a Pentagon hallway hung an austere portrait of a Navy man lost at sea in 1908, with his brass buttons, blue-knit uniform and what looks like meticulously blow-dried hair.
Wait. Blow-dried hair?
The portrait of "Ensign Chuck Hord," framed in the heavy gilt typical of government offices, may be the greatest—or perhaps only—prank in Pentagon art history. "Chuck Hord" can't be found in Navy records of the day. It isn't even a real painting. The textured, 30-year-old photo is actually of Capt. Eldridge Hord III, 53 years old, known to friends as "Tuck," a military retiree with a beer belly and graying hair who lives in Burke, Va.
Most military officers who climb the ranks or command daring battles only dream of having a portrait hang in a corridor of power at the Pentagon alongside the likes of Patton, Nimitz and Eisenhower. Capt. Hord's made its way to the Pentagon's C-ring hallway via several parties, an alliance of British and Canadian military officers and a clandestine, predawn operation later dubbed "THE PROJECT."
Filled with vague flickerings of angst and Louis Vuitton evening wear? Fear not, Pilgrim -- take a bold dive into the refreshing waters of KimKierkegaardashian:
The philosophy of Søren Kierkegaard mashed with the tweets and observations of Kim Kardashian.
Intellectually too stimulating? Perhaps you should ease into it with a few sips of Justin Buber:
Combining the pop stylings of Justin Bieber with the existential wisdom of philosopher Martin Buber.
Some moments deserve a monument. Some do not. This point is apparently lost on the owners of a Hyde Park shopping mall, which just installed a ton-and-a-half stone marker to commemorate the spot where Barack Obama first kissed his future wife, Michelle. The plaque, which features a picture of the couple dancing – Obama looks like he’s grimacing, and Michelle looks strangely pleased – states:
“On our first date, I treated her to the finest ice cream Baskin-Robbins had to offer, our dinner table doubling as the curb. I kissed her, and it tasted like chocolate.”
-- President Barack Obama from an interview in O, The Oprah Magazine, Feb. 2007; Image Courtesy of BlackPast.org
On this site, President Barack Obama first kissed Michelle Obama.
It is a good thing that admirers of Bill Clinton did not attempt the same publicity stunt. We might have a three thousand pound boulder in the middle of the Oval Office to cover the rug stains.
And much more fun (maybe not for the dogs, though).
Spontaneous celebrations erupted around the world yesterday when news broke that a single bumper sticker slogan had caused all violence in the Middle East to come to an immediate halt. The result was the first period of nonviolence in the region in 17,000 years.
The permanent solution to the world’s most intractable conflict finally took hold when Rahif Muhammad Abdul-Aziz, a fruit-stand merchant in Allepo, Syria, decided to affix a white-on-blue sticker containing the command “COEXIST” to the rear of his 1998 Mazda Hatchback. The letters were comprised of various religious symbols set side by side, offering the reader a pictorial representation of the underlying message.
Syria’s Minister for Internal Security, Abdul “The Butcher” Shazaam, first saw the powerful message while waiting in traffic on his way to the office, where his schedule for that day called for the indiscriminate torture of a number of civilian hostages.
Upon casually glancing at the back of Mr. Abdul-Aziz’s car, he was immediately struck by the powerful symbolism confronting him. Shazaam told his driver to pull over, at which point he called President Bashar al-Assad directly. After listening to Shazaam’s tearful description, Assad immediately ordered all indiscriminate aerial bombers, secret police inquisitors, and rooftop snipers to stand down. He then sent a cable to the United States State Department containing the precise whereabouts of Syria’s chemical weapons arsenal, with a request that it be “safely destroyed as swiftly as humanly possible.”
Now don't be too hard on this little lady. It's a common mistake, getting the iconic title of a Johnny Cash song somewhat wrong.
(FYI: " I Have The Wine" and "I Walk The Line" are mutually exclusive concepts -- at least when it comes to those annoying roadside sobriety checks.)
Secretary of State John Kerry — who recently made international headlines for inventing a country — has again drawn attention for questionable remarks, this time to a group of German students.
Mr. Kerry, while speaking in Berlin on Tuesday, asserted that in the United States “you have a right to be stupid if you want to be.”