A cat known as Miley Cyrus has been charged with violating Switzerland’s animal abuse and cruelty ordinance. The cat is alleged to have committed acts of aggression against another cat, Ms. Cyrus’s companion, known as Hannah Montana.
You are walking down the street, minding your own business when a strange vehicle, driven by some kind of diminutive fish pulls up next to you. The vehicle is roughly half your size. You feel a pinprick of pain in your neck, and then, you black out.
You come to, briefly, to discover that you are immobilized, held in a net, and somehow, thousands of feet above your city. It is a disorienting, emotionally distressing moment and you pass out again. [Read more →]
Tilikum the killer whale, I think, has put his employers in an awkward position. I mean, a killer whale is not an employee that you can fire, or take away his quarterly bonus. And there is, of course, the awkward press conference where you explain, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, that “in July 1999, security guards found a naked dead man draped across the orca’s back one morning.” Sure, the guy sneaked past SeaWorld security and apparently died of hypothermia, but it’s awkward when one of your employees was found wearing a naked dead man as a hat.
I suppose you have heard of Tilikum the killer whale who killed. I’m in Africa. If I’ve heard of Tilikum, you have, too. He’s a 22-foot, 12,000-pound orca that last week killed Dawn Brancheau, a 40-year-old veteran killer whale trainer. One could look at the tragedy of such an event. In fact, I’m sure most will look at it as just that… but not me. I see it for what it really is… an act of war. That’s right. War. And what’s worse is that we have been at war since October 3, 2003. What happened on that date?
On October 3, 2003, Montecore (a 380-pound tiger) attacked Roy of Siegfried and Roy, the gay tiger trainers and performers. Roy was not killed but was severely injured. And what happened to Montecore? Nothing. [Read more →]
A fight breaks out at Chuck E. Cheese, a gun is drawn, and a man is pistol-whipped in the parking lot. This is probably the least disturbing thing that has ever happened at a Chuck E. Cheese. Every little kid I’ve ever seen at one of these places has been so traumatized by the freaky animatronics band on the stage, I doubt than any gunplay would even be noticed. [Read more →]
Fascinating news from Hawaii.
A nice couple that I’m friends with (let’s call them “Tammy” and “Chuck”) recently vacationed on the island of Kauai with their kids “Roy” (age 5) and “Natalie” (age 2). Tammy and Chuck were shocked to discover that a universally beloved member of George W. Bush’s administration was wintering there.
… at least this time it was a Scottie. Me? I prefer the larger breeds. But if one of the little guys has to win (and they do that A LOT at Westminster Kennel Club’s annual show), then at least it’s a beloved breed from ‘Scotland the brave.’
Hoot, mon!
I understand that children can’t be sheltered forever and that they have to learn how things work in this world… even if those things are, on some level, disturbing. But what is the appropriate way to teach a kid about those things? Is it the way Headmistress, Mrs. Charman, chose to teach her kids where meat comes from? She had her students raise a lamb from birth; taught her kids to care for it, bottle-feed it, love it, and even named it Marcus — and then sent it off to be slaughtered.
I can’t take it, this global celebration of American ridiculousness. Everything about it — the overdeveloped man-children “battling” on the gridiron, the “generals” on the sidelines receiving images from spies with a bird’s-eye view of the “trenches,” the pomp and circumstance, the all-too-serious “expert analysis,” the unapologetic commercialism and obedient consumption — is fucking cheap.
Fortunately, there are other options for your viewing pleasure. [Read more →]
Shawn Macomber (who sometimes writes for WFTC) posted the trailer for Black Sheep over at The American Spectator. The trailer made me laugh. Shawn discusses it in connection with a recent political ad that is critical of Tom Campbell. I hadn’t heard of the political ad, or of Tom Campbell. I don’t know which video is funnier, but I know which is more disturbing. Decide for yourself. Both videos are below. Also, calling the movie Black Sheep might be racist.
On February 2, it is customary in Canada and the United States to celebrate an annual tradition wherein we allow a chubby burrowing rodent to forecast the weather. This is an important ritual, but not for the reason that many people think.
Many believe this “holiday” can be traced back to an ancient pagan ritual called Imbolc, which was duly adopted by early Christians and turned into Candlemas. (This means Mass of the Candles, in which the clergy would perform ear candling on the most hairy-eared and disgusting member of each parish, in a metaphorical recreation of the time when Jesus performed the Ear Candling of Jergomethia, cleaning the aural canals of a score of waxy hermits, and curing them of their deafness.) [Read more →]
While searching the Internet in hope of learning more about cats, I came across a story in the Philadelphia Inquirer from October about the death of Cuddles, a six-week-old kitten who was stoned and scorched.
The tortured kitten was rescued by an animal-control officer, who named him Cuddles, after the poor, injured animal climbed up his shirt and cuddled against his neck.
I recall that a 19-year-old knucklehead was later arrested for animal cruelty. [Read more →]
We are reliably informed that our dogs do not love or even admire us and in any event we should not get too fond of them as they have the carbon footprint of a daily grilled cheese sandwich so we will shortly have to steam them up in a solar cooker anyhow. But this counts the costs without examining the benefit. Beyond the sentimental value of these Furbearing Americans they also do many jobs other Americans refuse and immigrants lack the communication skills for such as sniffing out bombs or pulling the Palin family sleigh. But you don’t have to be a narco officer, a professional musher or blind to benefit from canine participation in our lives. That includes our suave and over-burdened President. [Read more →]
Of course what children really want for Christmas is a list of commands, prohibitions, and threats. To this end I have compiled the following words of advice for young people. This is the wisdom I have painfully accrued over 33 years of stupidity, and I do not hesitate to pass it on to the next generation. [Read more →]
I don’t know what it is that keeps you up at night worrying, dear reader, but I think I’ve got something more important to bring to your attention. It’s not anything mundane like the economy, airline terrorism, or global climate change-these simply are not the biggest problems facing humanity, and we’ve all got to be on the same page if we’re going to survive. So pull yourself together for this.
In the last week, two news articles caught my eye. Taken separately, they might be merely interesting tidbits of zoological behavior research. But when taken together, they indicate an alarming pattern, and they paint a clear picture of impending doom for our species. [Read more →]
“A man who claims to be the leader of a group of vampires has pleaded guilty to charges that he threatened to torture and kill an Indianapolis judge and his family.” The vampire in question is Jonathon Sharkey, a “self-proclaimed Satanist and professional boxer as well as wrestler (under the name Rocky ‘Hurricane’ Flash) and perennial candidate for public office.” He founded the Vampyres, Witches and Pagans Party, is fond of calling for impaling people for various crimes (and you thought PWSBKTW was extreme?), and is the subject of a documentary film. He was just sentenced to two years in jail. But how’s a jail cell gonna hold a vampire? Can’t he hypnotize the guards and escape? Can’t he sparkle or whatever it is vampires do these days and charm his way out? Okay, maybe the sparkling won’t work, since he looks like this: [Read more →]
Thank god for Google Alerts. What a treat it was to check my e-mail and read about a “tiger trainer” being mauled by his “trainees.”
(My use of quotation marks will explain itself.)
According to a story in the Guardian, attendees at a “Dinner Circus” in Hamburg, Germany were treated to a little improv during the appetizer course when a “tiger trainer” named Christian Walliser “was attacked after he stumbled during the show.”
Naturally, I got all warm and fuzzy reading that, though I have no idea why, according to the story, “200 guests watched in horror as Walliser was pinned to the ground by the tigers.”
Why they “watched in horror” is beyond me. Shit, I’d have tipped the tigers for making the show entertaining. [Read more →]
10. He started horsing around, and then things just got out of hand.
9. His ex-girlfriend once told him he was hung like one.
8. Seriously, have you seen that horse?!
7. During the playoffs, he misheard when someone said he should be rooting for the Phillies!
6. He read one of the signs of the swine flu was feeling a little hoarse.
5. He knew he’d never have to pay palimony to a palomino.
4. The horse looks exactly like his old girlfriend.
3. He claims he was looking for a stable relationship.
2. His daughter said, for her next birthday, she was hoping for a pony.
1. He was put up to it – by a small step stool.
Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.
I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised by this as humans are capable of doing/believing just about anything. But even so, I was a little caught off guard by this sad tale from Cornwall, one of the most beautiful parts of the British Isles, where the locals even have their own language. I will say no more; just click on the link and immerse yourself in the joys and sorrows of the poor soul who can only get his jollies via frolicking in a mound of rancid manure.
Mr. Truscott was a child once, innocent, dreaming of an exciting adulthood… I suspect that this was not what he had in mind.
H/t: Rod Liddle
When the phone rang at 3:30 this morning, my first reaction was to throw it at the wall. Then I realized that a phone call in the middle of the night, just a few hours removed from an embarrassment of Thanksgiving gluttony, could only signal tragedy.
“Dude, we’re fucked! We’re all going to die!”
It was my friend Monty Gelstein, a bit of a paranoid but not usually one to declare an emergency.
“Good,” I said. “Is it the giant asteroid?”
“I’m serious, man! I think the turkeys were poisoned!”
“Yeah, well, I’m a vegetarian, so …” [Read more →]
The NYC Veg Fest speaker line-up doesn’t leave you guessing which one of these guests is doin’ his own thing. Attendees, I presume, didn’t dispense with politeness and ask the natural but uncomfortable question, “If not animals, what, exactly, are you a master killer of, Masta Killa?” (I present this incongruity as a vegan, myself, not one of those snarky, I-belong-to-People-Eating-Tasty-Animals nimrods, just FYI.)
And speaking of incongruity, when a porn star and a dude who helped invent something called rap-core can’t make their marriage work, what hope do the rest of us have!?
Jean Jacques Rousseau, Arthur Rimbaud, and Jean Genet are just a few canonical writers who could be seen to have questionable character. Ezra Pound and T.S. Eliot were fascists or held views that could be connected to such political “philosophy.” Martin Heidegger, asshole, was a Nazi who never once renounced his views. I wonder if he ever noticed his predecessor, Friedrich Nietzsche, held opposing ideas but no tenured chair. Many, many famous writers have abused their wives and girlfriends or left them with kids and no emotional or financial support. These include half of my favorites: Sherwood Anderson, Saul Bellow, Fred Exley, Ray Carver, Richard Yates, and John Cheever. Can you write great fiction without at least a broken marriage on your transcript?
I’ve never experienced “Radioactive Cats,” Sandy Skoglund’s 1981 installation, in person, but I love the photographs I’ve seen of it: a gray kitchen, with an old man and woman, and everywhere, cats, painted neon green, crawling, writhing, looking lanky and predatory and anything but cute. Skoglund likes to take the things that seem tame and comfortable to us and render them in ways that make us squirm. Lately I’ve begun to think that “Radioactive Cats” suitably predicted the status of the feline on the Internet.
If the Internet is a collective unconscious, we are in big trouble, and I don’t think you have to find sites by child-molesters or terrorists to prove the point. When child-molesters are few, cats will do.
If you said, “Five-hundred dollars!” and can stand chilling with a Cocker Spaniel for twenty minutes, good lawd does Craig’s List have a deal for you!
I don’t know if Tyler Weinman is guilty of mutilating cats and terrorizing pet owners in South Florida. I am even more allergic to cats than I am to Brendan Fraser (at least, they make me sneeze more), but whatever you think of cats or any animal or animal rights, obviously it’s wrong to mutilate someone else’s pet and leave it for them to find. [Read more →]
I’m surprised it’s taken officials in New York City six months to plan the execution of 2,000 Canada geese. I figured the birds would be murdered within days of America’s favorite new superhero, Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger, landing crippled US Airways Flight 1549 in the Hudson River. [Read more →]
Dear Mr. Lancho:
You chickenshit motherfucker. The bull got one horn into you and you just lay there in the dirt. The bull didn’t do that, even after he’d been stabbed and stuck with swords and spears by your faithful little picadors, your sycophants on horseback. [Read more →]
A rattlesnake recently crashed my cousin Greg’s wedding in Sacramento.
Just before friends and family arrived, the uninvited, poisonous guest made her appearance. Greg told me that the snake, a baby, had been tossed over the edge of the property. He promised that she would return. [Read more →]
The poverty-stricken urban malcontent Marcovaldo, in Italo Calvino’s suite of stories, Marcovaldo, or The Seasons in the City, “possessed an eye ill-suited to city life: billboards, traffic-lights, shop-windows, neon signs, posters, no matter how carefully devised to catch the attention, never arrested his gaze…Instead, he would never miss a leaf yellowing on a branch, a feather trapped by a roof-tile; there was no horsefly on a horse’s back, no worm-home in a plank, or fig-peel squashed on the sidewalk that Marcovaldo didn’t remark and ponder over, discovering the changes of season, the yearnings of his heart, and the woes of his existence.” Though I myself love illuminated signs and the urban energy behind them, I have a certain sympathy for that Italian dreamer [Read more →]
There’s so much despairing talk about the environment and the ongoing diminishment of nature these days, I want to take a few minutes to glory in what we still have — in particular, our bird life. It’s a glorious spring day in Indiana and our three crab trees are in bloom. As we’ve been feeding birds for 25 years in our backyard, my wife and I enjoy the same visitors every year at this time. [Read more →]
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