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Stupid Questions From Stupid People About The Russian Meteorite

19 Feb

February 19, 2013

A meteorite spectacularly slammed into Russia last week. This of course led to a firestorm of speculation since, by sheer coincidence, Earth experienced its closest encounter ever with a potentially killer asteroid that very day.

In the wake of all this cosmic turmoil, Bill Nye was interviewed on CNN. (This is Bill Nye The Science Guy, not Bill Nye from Quinnipiac Carpet Cleaners who will steam four rooms of carpet for only $99.99.) Deb Feyerick began the interview by ambushing Nye with a tough question.

Did global warming cause the meteorite?

Now before you dismiss her as just another stupid news anchor, you should know that she earned a Bachelor of Arts degree in English literature from Barnard College in 1987, so you know she has the proper background to make these amazing scientific intuitive leaps.

Bill Nye, to his credit, tried to talk his way out of saying straight out that she is a complete moron and managed to move past it.

It doesn’t matter which side of the global warming debate you fall on, and I am not even going to get into it here. Both sides universally agree that there is no way that any Earth-based climate change can cause a meteor from the depths of space to attack us. Even Al Gore, one of our most respected asinine Americans wouldn’t say that, and he thinks that selling his news network to Al-Jazeera for big oil bucks was a good move. (Well, I guess it was for him.)

But Dumb Deb is not the only one with a, er, novel explanation for the meteor strike. Just read what this Russian politurd had to say: meteor

Much as I love the idea of bashing John Kerry (and I will in the very next paragraph) I can’t blame him for this. “When something falls, it’s man-made.” I have to dispute this. When something falls, it is usually due to a banana peel.  Does this man not know his cartoons?

John Kerry is a completely out of touch politician, born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He looked like an idiot when he ran for President due to the clever Republican strategy of doing nothing and letting Kerry act like a total out of touch idiot on the campaign trail. And now as a consolation prize for not winning the Presidency, he has been named Secretary of State. Again, without bringing politics into this (any more than I already have) there are few people who voted Democrat (Kerry’s party) who seem to think he is qualified to steam four rooms of carpet for only $99.99, let alone dictate policy.

And now a funny John Kerry story.

While hitting the campaign trail in Philadelphia, Kerry stopped for a photo-op in a famous Philly cheesesteak joint and ordered one. When asked what kind of cheese he wanted, he asked “do you have gouda?” Yes, gouda, the cheese of the common man, which assumes the common man is a rich yachting enthusiast.

I’ll let the legitimate press take it from here (yes, I am typing legitimate press sarcastically because that also includes Deb Feyerick. I seem to be just as legitimate.) This article has been slightly edited for space.

PREZ HOPEFUL ASKS FOR SWISS CHEESE!
by Don Russell of The Philadelphia Daily News
posted Thu, Aug. 14, 2003

We may have just witnessed the unraveling of the Democratic front-runner’s campaign for the White House right here in South Philadelphia, at 9th and Wharton. Let it be recorded: At lunchtime on Aug. 11, 2003, under the familiar awning of Pat’s King of Steaks, Sen. John Kerry attempted to eat a cheesesteak. For presidential candidates, eating a cheesesteak in South Philly is a political rite of passage. Clinton did it, and so did Gore. John McCain gobbled one, with hot peppers.

But this is more than just shaking hands and kissing babies. For a pol, eating a cheesesteak is like running the gauntlet – past the surly counterman, through the variety of toppings, finishing it off without looking lame. We want to see if you can survive. And if you can’t manage a dripping steak, why should we have any confidence that you can handle a slippery character like Osama bin Laden?

Kerry, you may have heard, failed miserably. He ordered a cheesesteak with Swiss cheese. (NOTE: Everyone in Pennsylvania knows you have only two options: American or Cheez Whiz)

Now I suppose in some corners of the world, Swiss is a perfectly acceptable sandwich ingredient. Switzerland, maybe. But in Philadelphia, ordering Swiss on a cheesesteak is like rooting for Dallas at an Eagles game. It isn’t just politically incorrect; it could get you a poke in the nose. Pat’s Steak owner Frank Olivieri had the good grace not to throttle Kerry. But he did advise him that, here in Philly, we don’t much like Swiss-eating campaign monkeys. He got Cheez Whiz instead. The damage, though, was already done.

At first, reporters snickered. Then word filtered into the national press that Kerry looked like a doof. Yesterday, the Washington Post compared the debacle to the first President Bush’s out-of-touch questions upon encountering a common supermarket scanner. Dukakis in a tank. Quayle’s “potatoe” misspelling. Nixon’s five o’clock shadow.

And now this: Kerry’s cheesesteak mistake.

I blame it on his handlers. I mean, who was the dope on his advance team who told Kerry to order a cheesesteak hoagie? For cryin’ out loud, the guy’s a rookie; eating a cheesesteak hoagie, with its layers of lettuce and tomato, is like trying to hit a major league fastball.

Kerry asked the photographers to stop shooting pictures. Right. You see a train wreck coming, the last thing you do is put down your camera.

So the man who would be president of the people was photographed delicately gripping the sandwich with his fingertips like he’s some kind of Boston blue blood playing the piccolo. You half expected him to ask for a silk napkin, Jeeves.

If Kerry had any sense, he’d have gone to our Gov. Rendell for some culinary advice. Here’s a guy, the former chairman of the Democratic National Committee, who got himself elected mayor of Philadelphia a decade ago almost solely on his ability to stuff a cheesesteak down his trap without ruining a necktie. We in Philadelphia expect nothing less of our Commander in Chief.

My Memories of Dracula

6 Feb

February 6th, 2013

Vlad Dracula

The story begins with a man named Jonathan Harker. We know his name is Jonathan Harker because it turns out that we are not reading Dracula at all, we are reading The Diary of Jonathan Harker. (This book is totally misnamed.) Anyway, Harker is on his way to Transylvania, a wild and desolate place that in the distant place was the center of the US automobile industry but now stands deserted, with crumbling buildings and rampant crime and horror. Oh, sorry, that’s Detroit. Take out the part about the auto industry and the rest still stands. Neither is a place any sane person would want to visit.

Harker is going to see a man named Count von Count Dracula. The Count loves to count things and lives in a filthy castle full of his beloved trash. He is also a vampire, although Harker doesn’t know that. What Harker does know is that every single person he meets tells him not to go to Detroit- I mean Dracula’s castle. They urge him to turn back, they warn him of the evils and horror that await, they tie him up and try to ship him back to England in a box, all to no avail. You see, Harker is a traveling salesman and he is there to sell Amway to Count von Count Dracula and those Amway salesmen don’t take no for an answer.

Things got off to a strange start when Harker’s ride to the Count von Count’s castle arrived. The coachman was wearing a hood pulled low over his face and a pair of Groucho nose/glasses. As Harker later found out, it was none other than The Count himself. Turns out he had fired all of his servants when they ran out of blood.

Things did not go well in Count von Count Dracula’s castle. The food was spoiled, the days were boring and the nightlife sucked… so to speak. Eventually it became clear to Harker that Dracula was not interested in buying any Amway. Problem was he didn’t realize it until Dracula had already departed for London and left Harker locked in the basement with his ex-wives.

Meanwhile, in another book I mean back in England, Miss Lucy Westenwhore was torn between her three lovers. One was a rich American Texan, one was a rich English nobleman, and one was rich, nothing else matters, does it? Well, yada yada yada, nothing much happens for a long time except that Lucy’s friend Mina, who happened to be Harker’s wife, began to wonder where her husband was. She didn’t wonder too loudly, however, being surrounded by rich single guys.

Meanwhile, in a complete and total coincidence of the sort only found in these types of novels that feature complete and total coincidences, right next door to our main characters is an insane asylum. Now if you are anything like me you’d think having a nuthouse next door would be a deal breaker and no way would I live there, but back in those days it was considered pretty cool and as more and more areas of London got gentrified insane asylums popped up everywhere. They were the Starbucks of their time.

About now I should mention that Dracula has been printed all over the world in dozens of languages and editions. If you are reading the black and white 1931 Universal Studios edition, Dracula wears very elegant evening clothes, as if he is on his way to dinner with the Queen and not actually on his way to dig himself out of his filthy grave. If you are reading the 1958 Hammer Studios version, Dracula is written in color and looks like Christopher Lee.  In neither version does he sparkle.

Count von Count“Long story short” is an often overused cliché but in this case it is totally accurate. Depending on the edition you are reading, and this is true, Count von Count Dracula does not appear in the middle of the book for almost 200 pages. This is no joke. A lot of the dialogue is like “where’s Dracula? We have to find Dracula” and “where can Dracula be? We have to find him before the sun comes up.” See? Long story short. I just saved you 200 pages. (And somewhere along the way Lucy dies and comes back as a vampire and then really dies. That’s a spoiler, sorry.)

Here is the story in convenient bullet point format. (Convenient for me- less typing.)

  • Dracula comes to England by boat and gorges on the all-you-can–eat buffet
  • Dracula is invited into the mental asylum by one of the inmates and- hold on to your hat- one of the main characters is a doctor who also lives there, giving Dracula free reign of the house.
  • A lot of people get attacked, including the residents of a ghetto who see Dracula in his bat form and try to capture “the black chicken.”

Meanwhile, Dr. “Van” Helsing, the one important character whom I should have mentioned long before this arrives and teaches the Scooby Gang how to defeat a vampire.

HOW TO KILL A VAMPIRE

  • Drive a wooden stake through his heart
  • Cut off his head
  • Trap him under running water
  • Expose him to sunlight
  • Force him to watch Twilight
  • Didja notice the bullet points again? I am so lazy when it comes to typing. Which begs the question of why I am still typing this thought. Hmmmm….

It is also interesting to note that any and all of those methods will also kill a mugger, except maybe that sunlight thing. Just throwing that out there in case you get into trouble.

Anywho, for no reason other than he’s running out of places to hide (in London of all places!) Dracula flees back to his trash-filled Transylvania castle, pursued by the rich white guys who follow his every move by using a strange psychic connection between Mina and the Count. It turns out that they came up as matches on J-Date and that site is never wrong.

Dracula makes it thisclose to his castle and freedom when, again depending on the version you are reading, he gets his head cut off outside the castle, he gets staked in his coffin, or Peter Cushing chases him into the castle where, using a pair of candlesticks held together as a cross, forces the Count into the sunlight where he crumbles into dust, except for his ring, which somehow later turns up later in Detroit on Hardcore Pawn.

This is the first of a series of Count von Count adventures, in which Count von Count Dracula moves to a typical American soundstage and takes up residence in a trashcan, emerging only to teach kids how to count before draining their blood on public television.