I recommend going through all the I Can Has Cheezburger site, if you have time. If you don’t have time, then I recommend at least checking out the bucketlorn walrus storyline. If it does not make you giggle, then there is something very wrong with you.
Also, if you are a Star Trek (the good one) fan, check out LOLTrek, wherein everyone’s favorite episode, The Trouble with Tribbles, is LOLCatzed.
That is all. As you were, comrades!
I don’t think I shared this one. If I have, please to be excusing the redundancy!
I really, really needed a laugh this morning, and it did not disappoint.
From the Astronomy Picture of the Day archive, a new rock slab is growing from the dome of Mount St. Helens. Currently 100 meters tall, it’s growing at the rate of one meter each day.
Remember the wee baby horsie I mentioned in a previous post? Well, Cute Overload has a lovely illustration of exactly what I was trying to describe. Behold, the foal with the joie de vivre!
Boink!
Via Twisty at I Blame the Patriarchy, this priceless cartoon. Because, you know, supporting the patriarchy is the national pastime.
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* I do love me some Pink Floyd, on occasion. The Patriarchy is a bit like the dark side of the moon. It doesn’t just comprise one side, it’s both sides. Win-win or lose-lose. Bastards!
Via What’s in Rebecca’s Pocket, some, um, interesting ideas for paintings from the New Yorker.
Stampede of Nudes: … What has frightened these nudes? Is it the lightning in the background? Or did one of the nudes just spook? You don’t know, and this creates tension.
The Repentant Cameron Diaz: Cameron Diaz, her tear-streaked face lit by a candle, gazes wistfully at a photograph of me.
Still-Life with Rabbit: A wooden table is chockablock with fruit, cheese, and a glass of wine. To one side is a dead rabbit, a dead pheasant, and a dead eel. And you’re thinking, Thanks for the fruit, but, man, take better care of your pets.
So, if you’re ever suffering from painter’s block, you obviously need look no further for inspiration.
Nachos of Turin
Holy nachos, Batman! Workers at a Florida restaurant found the image of the Son of God at the bottom of a nacho pan.
Mother Theresa Cinnamon Bun
Mr. Christ isn’t the only one whose personage was in the news. A cinnamon bun bearing the likeness of Mother Theresa was stolen on Christmas day from a Nashville, Tennessee coffee house.
A man, um, crossed the US-Mexican border via cannon.
It’s official, Canadians can legally have group sex in clubs.
A hilarious music video, starring Flickr Creative Commons images. If you have broadband, download and watch it. It’s really, really funny in a kinda sad, kinda sweet sorta way.
This is not your grandma’s needlepoint. (Is it just me, or does the one of Axl Rose look like Jeffrey Dahmer?)
In other arty news, here are some really cool sculptures made out of old tires.
And, speaking of tires, which brings me to cars, I think I’ve mentioned that I don’t like driving when it’s windy. Well, folks, there might be a reason for that. I live in fear of going ass over tea kettle. It could happen!
I recommend not visiting this website while you are eating and/or drinking. Not because it’s squicky, but because it presents a serious choking hazard. I don’t think I’ll ever get that piece of toasty bread crust out of my lungs.
In my blogreading, I’ve recently come across a couple of instances where bloggers have spent an inordinate amount of time responding to trolls. Why? Responding will only give the trolls what they are looking for: attention. And, while it may momentarily feel good to respond to them, doing so will eventually suck the life out of you. You don’t owe them a response. Responding will not change a troll’s mind. Doing so will only put you on the defensive in a war of words that you cannot win. Best not to even enter the fray, I think. It’s really not worth giving them the time of day; instead, quietly delete their comments and be done with it. They’ll move along quickly enough when they realize they do not have a captive audience.
First, I noticed yesterday that Roz Stendahl has some new journals posted to her website. I spent some time yesterday looking through them, and recommend that y’all do so, too. They’re truly wonderful.
Second, Rory is back from the vet. Two nights of hospitalization, catheterization, meds, etc. cost US$322. Two techs brought him out in his carrier, soaked in urine, with a kennel lead wrapped around him. Apparently they couldn’t get it off him, which is understandable. He’s semi-feral and freaked out by strangers. Still, they’re professionals and I don’t think it’s too much to ask for them to be able to handle one cat, no matter how badly he’s behaving. More disturbing is that I was unable to actually talk to the vet. I was given my cat and his meds and sent home. That’s the final straw. As soon as he’s through with this course of antibiotics, I’m taking him on well visits to try on a couple of other vets. There have got to be better diagnosticians out there or, at least, a vet who will actually communicate with owners.
Third, I really (really!) hate it when people tell me how to think, feel, or behave. Aside from inciting an initial “you’re not the boss of me” reaction (and, seriously, they aren’t and it’s damned silly for them to delude themselves into thinking they are), it’s spectacularly rude. It’s no way to treat a child, adult, or barnyard animal. It’s controlling, condescending, placating, dehumanizing, and just plain offensive. The subtext is that you’re overreacting and that your response has no merit. In essence, you do not matter. You are nothing. You have no right to have feelings. You are denied a voice.
Inherently, I believe it is also an act of violence. Your voice is the only thing in this world that is entirely your own. When someone takes that away from you, you cease to exist. People fight wars over this sort of thing, so why is it so difficult for some folks to understand that it matters?
red paper boat 