Since it’s still Friday, the 13th, here in the U.S., I feel it’s appropriate to present this oddity: the world’s largest Ouija board, which was set up recently in Salem, Massachusetts.
The monstrosity measures 3,168 square feet (294 m) and weighs over 9,000 pounds (4.0823 mt). Considered the world’s largest Ouija board and known as Ouijazilla, it debuted in October through the Talking Board Historical Society in Salem. The TBHS is dedicated “to research, preserve, and celebrate the history of talking boards” and the people “behind them”, including those (what I call the fools) who use them.
A close friend of mine recently noticed this in the meat section (where else?) of a Dallas grocery store. I know what you people are thinking. And I’m as shocked as you are. Isn’t USD 3.88 a bit pricy for any fowl food?
Two of my least favorite things: Spam and pumpkin.
This pumpkin spice craze has gone too far and needs to be stopped! I don’t know what fool created pumpkin spice, but they need to be shipped to a small rocky island in the South Atlantic in June with a box of crackers and a jug of tap water and spend the rest of the winter thinking about the culinary Frankenstein they’ve unleashed upon humanity.
The threat of climate change – and the forecasted rising sea levels – prompts a variety of responses from people: anger, frustration, denial and new ideas. The latter is often a matter of subjective interpretation. Many think of converting human waste to biofuel. Others, like Wojciech Morsztyn, design new structures to accommodate the changes.
Morsztyn, a creator with Yanko Design, recently unveiled plans for massive house boats called ‘Ocean Communities’ where people could escape, as sea levels increase. Some coastal and island communities are watching as seawaters encroach more and more upon them. In the U.S., residents of some coastal small towns are being relocated further inland. Dykes and levees just aren’t functioning properly in the face of such slow-moving catastrophes.
inevitable, though, that some people will flee to the water itself and relocate
their lives to an aquatic existence entombed in a boat. Ocean
Community doesn’t offer a monetary figure for such an abode, but I’m certain those
of us in, say, the lower 95% economic range won’t be able to afford one. That’s inevitable, too. Most of the aforementioned communities being
relocated are of the indigenous persuasion, such as the Alaskan Inuit.
I imagine, however, that the boating life is for those who don’t amass much in the form of material possessions. I mean, if I was forced onto a luxury barge, would I have enough room for my collection of books, National Geographic magazines and porn DVDs? Could I even bring my truck? Yes, it’s getting old like me and this house. But I’ve kind of endeared myself to the big black bastard. Okay, that may be a man/Texas thing. Yet, how much could one bring aboard a house boat to make their life as easy as on land?
More importantly, is this the real solution to dealing with climate change? Aren’t house boats an admission of defeat? Regardless, this video may be appealing, but I have to wonder if it’s the right answer to the pending chaos.
Apparently, New York City has lost love for its former mayor, Rudy Giuliani, along with the rest of the United States. As personal attorney to Faux-President Donald Trump, Giuliani has found himself in the unenviable position of defending his psychopathic client. How sad. Giuliani’s staunch leadership during the horrific 09/11 cataclysm got him dubbed as “Mayor or America.” Now, he’s like a neophyte lawyer handling public drunkenness charges.
Recently, a series of mock posters have been appearing on New York City subway’s noting (emphasizing) Giuliani’s tragic descent into madness.
As competition for the never-ending Darwin Awards heats up, we have a new entrant from Canada. An unidentified 62-year-old woman apparently decided to try the new trend of “vaginal steaming”; whereupon the participant sits over a steaming-hot bowl of water mixed with herbs to provide intense thermal pelvic cleaning for the female of our species. I can only assume this new-age ritual is meant to expunge the feminine soul of various and sundry evils: bacteria, unhealthy enzymes and memories of yoga gone wrong. But gynecologists warn that “v-steaming” – their term, not mine – is not necessarily healthy and actually is potentially dangerous.
Moreover, the victim in this case ended up at a local emergency room with second-degree burns to her cervix and vaginal membranes, according to a report from the Department of Obstetrics and Gynecology at the University of Calgary. No word on if she drove herself there, or had to be airlifted. The report also indicates this is the first documented incident of burns incurred by v-steaming.
And you, dear readers, thought only men did stupid shit to
their nether regions! Either way, this gives
new meaning to the term “burning bush”.
Another candidate for the Darwin Awards has surfaced in Berlin. Danny Polaris thought he’d make a recent night out one he wouldn’t forget. So took a Viagra and, after an evening of partying, went home with a nurse he met out at some club (I suspect). There, his new “friend” decided to up the excitement and inject Danny’s penis with some kind of still-unknown “stimulant”. Polaris says he felt fine – until a few days later when he realized he’d developed a painful condition called priapism. This is one of the unspoken medical anomalies that urologists and the Roman Catholic Church have warned men about for years.
As of August 11, Polaris is still in the hospital, still applying ice packs to his genitalia, reading the Bible, listening to tapes of old women talking about the “not so fresh feeling” and avoiding the Cartoon Network. No relief appears in sight. He seems to have no shame in going public with his ordeal and has even detailed his trauma on Instagram. Friends have also set up a page on the Go Fund Me network to help pay for his treatment and rehabilitation. I really don’t want to know what “rehabilitation” would mean in this case.
All I can say now is just don’t ask him what’s