So … Friday, huh? Got any awesome weekend plans? Yeah? That sounds cool. Hope you have a great time with that. Me? I’m going to see Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band! I’ve been a fan since I was a kid, and one by one in the past 10 years, members of my family were able to see him, while I got the shaft, or got shut out of the online ticket ordering. But not this time. Barring some horrible accident, I will be rocking with Bruce tonight. If you were busy ogling the new iPhone this week, odds are you missed it.
The last Big Gulp
The People’s Communist Paradise of New York City has been enacting a lot of health regulations lately: phasing out trans fats, reducing sodium by 25% and eliminating outdoor smoking except for prostitutes. Now, Chairman Michael Bloomberg has banned the sale of sugary beverages over 16 oz. Fortunately, it only applies to non-alcoholic drinks, so vendors, put a nip in those Big Gulps and let’s go back to business as usual, shall we? Or you could just drink straight liquor.
In what is being called the most negative reaction to a trailer since John Carter, Muslim extremists throughout Asia and the Middle East stormed U.S. embassies and consulates to protest a movie depicting the prophet Muhammed in an unflattering way and depicting him in the first place. A KFC was also set on fire in Tripoli, Lebanon, because depictions of the colonel Sanders are also frowned upon by some.
Los Angeles loves a good car chase, and it’s amazing that this trend hasn’t caught on in other American cities. This week, citizens watched for over 90 minutes as police chased suspected bank thieves as they barreled and weaved their way on Southern California freeways and side streets. At one point the suspects threw money out of the car, causing crowds to form. Great, like L.A. needs one more cause for traffic jams.
In Shadyside, Pennsylvania, there lies a bank. And within this bank lies an ice cream shop. Actually, I got that reversed. Within an ice cream shop lies a bank. Because that makes sense.
It also is apparently very frowned upon. Maybe because it’s not a great practice. Despite his totally low-cost and non punitive services, the Pennsylvania Department of Banking isn’t very happy with Ethan Clay, the owner of the Oh Yeah! ice cream shop (and partial-time bank-like institution). And yet, the DoB can’t actually punish Clay, but they can get their friend the district attorney to perhaps do so.
Clay admits that while technically it’s not a bank, it’s pretty much a bank. Hey, as long as someone doesn’t mix in some pennies with my dark chocolate-raspberry, it’s no sweat off my back.
Gentlemen, if you’ve ever worried about s%#tting the bed that you share with a lady — maybe after a certain chilli peppers bet at the Wings Warehouse? — we have one suggestion: do it during sex.
A recent study published in PLoS One found that sexually aroused women were less disgusted while performing gross tasks than women who went in dry. The tasks included ones of a sexual nature (reaching into a bowl of used condoms) and of a non-sexual nature (handling a piece of feces smeared toilet paper). Don’t worry, though: none of the gross things were real. The condoms were merely opened, not used for sex, and the feces was chocolate filtered through a precocious labrador retriever puppy.
Afterwards, the women were asked to rate their disgust from 0 to 100. Sexually aroused women were considerably less disgusted than their dry peers performing sexually gross tasks, but only minorly less disgusted performing non-sexually gross ones. So, returning to the bed soiling example in the opening paragraph: fellas, you gotta make it a passionate dump. Women may think sex is gross, but they’re OK with gross if the mood is right.
This experiment also explains why men perform some of the most disgusting jobs in the world (i.e., garbage collection, flavored condom testing, gynecology, etc.): we’re always sexually aroused. Always.
Google is shifting its focus from buying out companies that make useful tech stuff to get back to its roots, the search.
Before the days of IMDB, kids, there was a game called Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon. It existed on the theory that every actor or actress could be traced back to Mr. Footloose himself in six degrees or less. Google has added it into its search algorithm, taking the fun out of the game.
Go ahead, search “Bacon number” and any actor you can name. You can’t get over 2 unless you go old-timey like Al Jolson or obscure foreign actors.