George Chen Creative

So if you haven’t heard, Alaska redneck governor Sarah Palin is resigning her post at the end of the month. This move came as a surprise to just about everyone, considering she doesn’t have that much longer in office anyways. Immediately people began speculating about the real reason she’s stepping down, including suggesting that Palin was under some federal investigation. Palin’s lawyers, who apparently have little grasp on the concept of defamation, cried foul and threatened to sue bloggers and media outlets. To quote:

"This is to provide notice to Ms. Moore, and those who re-publish the defamation, such as Huffington Post, MSNBC, the New York Times and The Washington Post, that the Palins will not allow them to propagate defamatory material without answering to this in a court of law."

Because I simply can’t resist the possibility of seeing these lawsuits actually go to court, I figured I should jump in on the action. Here are my suggestions for things Sarah Palin is under investigation for. If her lawyers somehow find this and want to sue me for it, bring it on.

• Sarah Palin eats infants
• Sarah Palin kicks puppies
• Sarah Palin punches kittens
• Sarah Palin hates black people
• Sarah Palin clubs baby seals (this one is probably true)

Sources: http://www.adn.com/palin/story/853746.html, http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/07/04/palin-facebook-message-sl_n_225772.html

The bus finally arrived, which was helpful, because I wasn't sure if Samish was expecting me to describe my comparatively boring life where I spent most of my time shuttling between lab, classes, and studying. As a television character, the best I probably could be compared to would be an extra in the background. The bus driver was a large cheerful man named Tracy, and Samish rushed forward to introduce himself and shake his hand. Tracy seemed stunned, not used to being introduced to his passengers. I decided it was probably best not to follow Samish's lead and did not introduce myself. “Hey man,” Samish said to Tracy, “speed as much as you want. I've got protection.” “Oh really?” said Tracy, with a bemused smile on his face. Discounting the fact that the bus we were in could only go forty miles per hour, just barely above the speed limit, the fact that someone was openly bragging about being protected by cops was an amusing one, to say the least. Samish then proceeded to repeat his entire story while I gazed out the window at the passing scenery that I had seen a thousand times before.

“So yeah man, I'm afraid to be out in public now. I mean, last week, my car was stolen, and I'm not even sleeping in my own place any more!” said Samish, ending his second retelling of his story. Besides these details, the rest of the story remained unchanged, so I just went along with it. Tracy seemed to be more interested in the story than I was. “So how did you know all these guys?” he asked, referring to the laundry list of people that Samish reportedly gave to the police. “You know the 18^th Street gang in Tijuana?” Samish replied, “I used to be a part of it.” A former gang member with an MBA and billionaire parents who lives life in the fast lane; could it get any better than this? Of course, I had no knowledge of the supposed 18^th Street gang, but for the sake of simplicity, I again just took Samish's word for it. “What do you mean by 'used to be a part of it'?” asked Tracy. “Oh, I retired,” Samish said nonchalantly, looking quite proud of himself. I wasn't aware that one could retire from a gang. In my head I wondered what a retirement package would look like. Obviously, he had forgone any protection he got from the gang in his admission today, but he didn't seem too bothered by it.

As we approached the final stop, Samish suddenly asked, “Hey, do you think you could let me off a little beforehand?” “Sure,” Tracy replied, “I'll let you off at the stop right before.” “Great, thanks.” said Samish. “I don't want to be seen in public too much, so many people are out for me.” One can never be too careful I suppose, but once again, he had just told his story to two complete strangers who could have readily identified him in a lineup. Or a body bag. Preferably the lineup, or not at all. We stopped by the pool and Samish got off, walking towards the library, his eyes shifting side to side every now and then.

“Do you know him?” Tracy asked, turning to me. “No, I have no idea who he was,” I reply. “Interesting guy though,” Tracy said, turning back to close the bus doors. “Yeah,” I agreed, as we made our way back on the road. I never saw or heard from Samish again.

Most people at the bus stop do not talk to one another, unless of course they are traveling together. Likewise, complete strangers rarely introduce themselves to you for no good reason, especially at bus stops. As both of these commonalities were about to be violated, there was some cause for alarm. “Hi,” he said, extending his hand, “I'm Samish.” “George,” I say, nervously shaking his hand. I immediately regretted not driving to school today. “You know Officer Rinco?” he asked. That's an interesting conversation starter; at least for conversations not between police officers or criminals. “No, no I don't,” I reply, really wanting the bus to arrive more quickly. “Oh,” says Samish. “Well, did you see that squad car a while ago? That was him. I've got protection. I'm in the witness protection program.” Well good news there, I won't be getting killed tonight; I don't think someone who just got out of a squad car (which I did confirm, exists) after being put in the witness protection program would be out to murder people. Plus, he didn't have a chainsaw handy. Second thought in my head though was, “Hold up, if you're in the witness protection program, why did you just tell me your name?” But I was content with the fact that he seemed ready to explain himself, so I just nodded and allowed Samish to continue his story.

“So yeah, so many people want me dead right now, man.” As I figured this story really could only become more interesting from this point out, I politely asked him what he did. Samish told me that he was caught with marijuana earlier today, no big deal he says, but it is a misdemeanor on your police record, and as he was applying for MBA programs, he needed a clean slate. So instead, he says, he made a deal with Officer Rinco to provide him with the names of all the dealers and associates that he knew at UCSD. Apparently, Samish had quite an extensive network of connections, all of whom would undoubtedly be very unhappy with this revelation, hence the need for the police protection, which also explained why he was at a bus stop in the middle of nowhere talking to a complete stranger about what he did. Oh wait, no it doesn't.

A few months earlier, there had been a massive drug bust at the college a few miles away; one involving millions of dollars, large quantities of arrests, and swarms of reporters from media outlets across the country. It was pretty big. In fact, people who hadn't heard of the college often assumed that the drug bust happened at UCSD, the more famous San Diego university. We were quick to assure them that our college was far too boring for such a thing to happen, so they needn't worry. Assurances aside, however, Samish told me that the information that he provided would lead to a drug bust at UCSD that was even bigger. “It'll be all over CNN, just wait a few weeks,” he said repeatedly in a rather excited voice; it seemed particularly odd for someone in fear of getting killed in the immediate future.

“Do you know David Duchovny?” Samish asked, changing the subject away from his plea deal. “Sure,” I said, remembering his character on the X-Files. While I never actually watched Detective Moulder do his work, promotions for the show often interrupted my afternoon cartoons, and so my consistently corny Scooby-Doo and Friends would be mixed with a series of pictures of hilariously fake looking aliens and drawings in cornfields, dirt, or ashes. These pictures were inevitably accompanied by a dramatic soundtrack, voiced over by a man who had been chain-smoking cigarettes since childbirth, and always ended with a picture of Scully and Moulder looking dramatically off into the distance. But this was not the Duchovny that Samish was talking about, rather, it was the Duchovny on a different show, Californication. “Yeah man, know how he's always out partying with all those girls? That's me man.” Samish said proudly. I accepted this statement readily; not that I particularly cared about the number of women he slept with, but it may very well have been his greatest accomplishment in life so far, and who am I to deny him of that satisfaction? He said that he had been paying his own way through college, even though his parents were billionaires and could have easily supported him. Apparently this was their way of teaching him the skills needed to survive in business. Obviously, this tactic wasn't all that successful. I began to question the possibility of Samish getting into an MBA program with all his drugs, sex, and partying needing to take up a considerable amount of time, but then again weirder things have happened. Things, such as, hearing about a drug bust from a complete stranger who is supposed to be in the witness protection program.

To be continued.

Rarely do I have the opportunity to write about things that happen to me. Here is one of those chances, so I’m taking it.

The Drug Bust

I have never really been comfortable going to bus stops late at night. While I live in a pretty safe neighborhood, the bus stops that I tend to frequent are the ones that are in the middle of nowhere; dimly-lit, and generally giving off the impression that you are in a horror movie and you are about to be murdered with a chainsaw. Thankfully, perhaps, the combination of my odd hours and remote bus stops usually means I'm the only one at the bus stop, leaving me to muse about the possibility of my violent death without fear of it actually happening. If I were to write a story about my time alone at the bus stop, it would likely reference cold weather, exhaustion, the arrival of the bus, and be generally short and uninteresting. This is obviously not one of those stories.

My experiment in lab had run late again. This came as no surprise, as most of the experiments I had been doing lately had their unexpected hiccups that set me hours behind schedule. Managing to find a good stopping point for the evening, I packed up my things and headed to the bus stop for the ride home. The Regents bus stop is in the middle of a large parking lot, dimly lit by sodium-vapor bulbs that bathes everything in a yellow light. There are only about fifteen cars left in the lot at this hour. As I walk up the hill towards the stop, a police cruiser passes by on the road. “Oh good,” I thought, “looks like I won't be getting killed tonight.” Why I thought this is utterly beyond me. Nonetheless, I made my way to the bus stop, where one other person was already waiting. Like most students, he was on his cell phone, entirely occupied by his conversation.

I have always wondered about the strangers around me, and more specifically, how it was that my fellow college students manage to spend so many hours of their waking day on their cell phones. The extent of my research on this subject has focused entirely on listening in on conversations just to see what could be so important to share. While I have heard some rather interesting conversations in the past, including one student who told his friend that he was planning to skip his court subpoena because he had class (a painfully dumb decision on many levels), what I overheard from this fellow traveler took top prize in being the most interesting.

“Yeah man, so many people want me dead right now,” he said to the person on the other end. “I gave them all my names, man, I can't have anything on my record right now,” he continued. At this point I decided I was probably safer standing at the end of the bus stop furthest away from him. The conversation continued for another two minutes, as the student gloated about his narrow escape from the law, as I managed to gather. I leant on the police call box and looked the other way. Three minutes pass, and still the bus hasn't shown up. “Damn,” I think to myself, “I must've just missed one when I got here.” Out of the corner of my eye I see the near-felon mindlessly walking around, and then he turns and approaches me.

 

To be continued.

The following was published June 4th, 2009 and is the first and last article that I have written for the paper.

 

George Chen

Unlike most of the staff, I never walked a beat or spent a late night in the production room. I never waged battle against The Koala in sloshball or spent a President's Day weekend in Vegas attempting to eat my way through the Bellagio buffet. In fact, this is the first and last article that I have written for The Guardian. There's a fairly good reason why; it takes me ages to write a single article, and along the way there are long bouts of writer's block and false starts. In fact, this article you're reading is version three or four of my many partial rough drafts. My inability to pump out articles at a moment's notice also explains why I have spent my four years at The Guardian as an advertising designer instead of a writer.

Working at The Guardian kept me fairly close to the eye of the storm and showed me that UCSD was not entirely devoid of activity as I had been lead to believe when I first arrived. My hiring came at the same time a scandal broke at SRTV over porn being aired on a student-run television channel. For those who missed it, the story hit national news, and SRTV was subsequently shut down, in a series of rather chaotic events. Other stories followed – wildfires, the opening of Price Center East, the annual debate over the Grove, and of course the annual push to raise student fees through one means or another. I leave UCSD with the story of a bird dive-bombing students in Price Center.

The Guardian is unequivocally the best place to work on campus. Where else does one get to debate the grammatically correct past tense of “ghostriding the whip?” Or walking in on a Wednesday afternoon to see an editor emphatically singing Celine Dion while on his knees. I will always remember crashing classes on Sun God, laughing at the crazy letters to the editor that manage to find their way to us (one in particular claimed Scarlett Johanssen was a cloned human), and laughing at the marketing staff comparing their cute friends on Facebook. Oh and occasionally we put out a newspaper issue or two.

A few words of thanks before I leave. First, thanks to the business staff, the two Mikes (now down to one), James the free agent, Superman Alfredo, and the business manager position that turned over like a professorship in Defense against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, set straight by Anna and currently headed by Monica. Thanks also to all the other advertising designers who have joined me at some point The Guardian, including Laura, Jennifer, Nick, Kim, Brandon, and Jenny, you guys are awesome. And finally thanks to all four years' worth of Guardian staff, lead by Grant, Heather, Charles, and Matt, for keeping the Guardian a fun place to work.

As I pondered over how to end this, I realized that I am severely underqualified to leave words of wisdom for people to read, but I will just say that college isn't about locking yourself in your room and studying 24/7, nor is it about partying it up every night until your liver takes you to court for abuse and neglect. College is about finding the happy medium between the two, and surviving to tell the tale.

It occurred to me that I haven't updated this blog in about a month. Unfortunately, my life has taken a turn for chaos, and I haven't been able to write anything worth posting for the last few months, though I have loads of stories jotted down. In the meantime, here's an article I wrote last year for a paper that didn't make it. Hope you enjoy it.

P.S. Some of you may recognize the plot from another story of mine. Yes this is the same story, but this is actually what happened.

DON'T TAKE THINGS FROM STRANGERS

Due to legal implications, the names of the people involved in the following story have been changed.

LA JOLLA - I have, in my time at UC San Diego, endeavored to find the ultimate college story - something so far-fetched and seemingly impossible that you have to believe it. This served two purposes: one, to make my otherwise mundane life seem interesting, and two, to have a really great bar story to tell. With this in mind, I have this story to share.

In my freshman year at UCSD I knew a student named James, who, despite being a fairly good person, had a drug problem. Or at least I referred to it as a problem, he didn't seem to mind all that much. The result of this was that he constantly traveled with large amounts of cash to buy drugs with at a moments notice, and he was frequently procrastinating while high. Which was fairly often. All of this procrastination inevitably caught up to him the day before a midterm, and he found himself cramming at Geisel Library. After a few hours of intense stressing, a random stranger approached him with an offer.

"Hey man! How are you?" said the man whom James had not met before.

"Hey," said James, ever the friendly type.

"You seem stressed, wanna try out this pill? It'll totally calm you down." said the stranger, revealing a bottle of pills. He took one to show that it wasn't poison.

James, having missed the day in kindergarten for the lesson "Don't take things from strangers," was intrigued and said yes. He took the pill from the stranger and swallowed it down. The two of them sat around talking for a while until James needed to go out to smoke a joint.

And here, dear readers, is where we take an aside from our story. For all intensive purposes, the city of Phoenix, Arizona is about 300 miles away from San Diego, making it about a 5 to 6 hour drive, depending on traffic. With this minor detail in mind, we return to the story.

James, whom we left outside smoking a joint, found himself passed out on the floor. Or rather, just passed out, as I don't think he knew where he was. He regained consciousness in a rather loud and windy place. The side of a highway. What had previously been daylight when he went outside for a smoke had now changed to night, and James, still groggy, was being prodded by what felt like a broomstick.

"Hey kid," a gruff voice said, "do you know where you are?"

James looked up to get a good view of his interviewer. A cop.

"Oh great," thought James, his heart beginning to race. Ironically, his increased heartbeat helped him wake up faster and seem more alive to the cop, who had no reason to be suspicious of James, who currently appeared to be the victim.

"Uh...San Diego?" said James, thinking it was a trick question, or a sobriety test.

"You're in Phoenix." said the cop, pulling James to his feet.

James was understandably a bit shocked by this, and looked around to be sure. Sure enough, he was in the middle of a desert, and his cell phone told him it was 7pm. Great, he'd passed out for six hours. He pulled out his wallet. Amazingly, all of his money was inside, and none of his credit cards or ID were taken either. So, for all intensive purposes, the only problem with James' current state was that he was now some 300 miles, in another state.

After checking him out, the cop was nice enough to drive James to Arizona State University, where James had a friend, who, as luck would have it, was traveling to San Diego the next day. James most gratefully gave him all the cash he had on him in return.

And so, at 10am the following day, James returned to UCSD, picked up his backpack and books from Geisel (which had also escaped vandalism, remarkably), and arrived to class in time to take his midterm.

As for the random stranger, James tells me that he's never seen him since.

by Louis Jenkins

When you are in town, wearing some kind of uniform is helpful, policeman, priest, etc..

Driving a tank is very impressive, or a car with official lettering on the side.

If that isn't to your taste you could join the revolution, wear an armband, carry a homemade flag tied to a broom handle, or a placard bearing an incendiary slogan.

At the very least you should wear a suit and carry a briefcase and a cell phone, or wear a team jacket and a baseball cap and carry a cell phone.

If you go into the woods, the back country, someplace past all human habitation, it is a good idea to wear orange and carry a gun, or, depending on the season, carry a fishing pole, or a camera with a big lens.

Otherwise it might appear that you have no idea what you are doing, that you are merely wandering the earth, no particular reason for being here, no particular place to go.

Dear Reader,

I have never been a fan of chain letters, mainly on the fact that most are terribly put together and pointless. That said, the recent trend of "write 25 facts about yourself," has provided me with at least an hour's worth of productive procrastination. That said, the 25 facts tend to drift into the realms of "things I want" and "things I wish I were" or "random platitude about how ridiculous 25 facts are." Thus, as a public service, and because I am not nearly as interesting as my friends, I present to you 40 (that's right, I'm better than you) random facts about my friends, culled from pages upon pages of Facebook entries.

Why? Because I can.

- George

 

1. I bite the nails on my big toes. Sometimes I can get at the index toes, depending on my stretchability that day, but unfortunately the other ones are out of the reach of my jaws.

2. THOUGH I am both allergic to water, I love to bathe in your old bathwater... I love crazy people.

3. Kelly Clarkson is a sizable factor as to why I ended up at UCSD.

4. I once drove a golf cart off a bridge on my uncle’s golf course. It was awesome.

5. In kindergarten I used to wish I was one of the X-Men... and then I graduated into wishing I could be like Goku from Dragonball Z.

6. I will never date a smoker. I kissed a fairly heavy smoker once (twice, even) and it was like he shat in my mouth. I wanted to gag. Never again.

7. Despite my horrific diet of essentially cous cous, chocolate and beer, I am deathly afraid of getting type 2 diabetes and will always joke about it as "diabeetus". Not because I have a family history, not because my doctors have mentioned it. Oh no, nothing as rational as that. I am afraid because...Turk...on Scrubs....got diabetes, and if it can happen to him, it can happen to me.

8. I really want my friends from college, especially the ones who are ny natives, to come visit me in my hometown and go "oh fuck...you really don't belong here, do you?"

9. My middle name is Hart and I’ve always been sort of embarrassed by it because I think it sounds wussy and everyone says, “Aww, that’s cute.” But there’s a good story behind the name. I am named after an ancestor of mine, Thomas Hart Benton, who was a senator from Missouri from the 1820’s to 1850’s. Benton was known for getting into a lot of dueling matches, and in one of these matches, he shot a guy named Andrew Jackson. Yep, that’s the Andrew Jackson, who a decade later would be elected President of the United States. Jackson survived his wounds and years later he and Benton became good friends and political-allies.

10. COLD RAIN MAKES ME PSYCHOTIC. Thus, these past couple of days=me running around in circles in my head. Seriously, Mother Nature!? Get your bipolaristic self IN LINE already! Grumblegrumblegrumble. I don’t know how to dress, I don’t know how I feel since the rain makes me numb, I don’t like being cold and wet, I can’t go swimming, I think classes should be cancelled, complaincomplaincomplain….

11. I make awful first impressions. Second ones aren't so great either.

12. Up until the age of 12, I was convinced I was going to become an FBI Agent like Agent Scully in X- Files. Oh, and I might as well mention that I used to be a tomboy. Instead of playing with dolls or Barbies, I'd strap myself with knives and rifles as if I were going into combat.

13. I was exposed to my first pornographic image when I was about 5 years old. *IT WAS AN ACCIDENT* Okay explanation: My parents used to own some video rental stores and my mom used to take me to work in the back office, which is where the porno was. So every time we walked past that area, my mom would tell me to cover my eyes..but i never was really good at following directions...So I persisted to ask my mom, "Mommy, why is she eating his butt?"

14. Both of my parents are pediatricians...which I still maintain is useful when you're sick as a kid, but it can kind of suck for your friends (ask me, if you don't know the story).

15. I paid rent on two different places for a month and didn't move out because I am a procrastinator, was lazy, and because I didn't know where I'd put my computer which if I don't have, I may as well be dead.

16. For me, Long Island Iced Teas are like the really fun friend you love to hang out with but hesitate to because, more often than not, you end up getting arrested with her in Arizona for trying to make a high school ribbon-dance team sing "More Than A Feeling" with you, when really, they just wanted to eat their meat lovers pizza.

17. My parents talk about secrets in Taiwanese and forget I'm in the room ALL the time and the fact that I can understand Taiwanese. I don't remind them though. Then I wouldn't get to be in on the secrets.

18. I don’t want to fill this out, but I’m not good with peer pressure. On the rare occasion I say no to something, all you really need to do is ask me again and I’ll probably say yes.

19. I drove from California to Indiana, it might sound cool, but it was super boring. And I’ll probably have to do it again in reverse.

20. The airport and DMV are two of my favorite places to go. I like people watching. And I love the airport because flying alone makes me feel independent and sophisticated.

21. I am constantly searching for tasty cheese

22. Peristerophobia. Oh yes, fear of pigeons, and in my case, almost any bird larger than a pigeon. The plumper the scarier.

23. I don't answer any calls during Grey's Anatomy. Sorry.

24. Yes they are real and yes they are double d's.

25. Ikea is like Disneyland, with cheaper meatballs.

26. I was not named after Adam from the Bible. Rather, my mom named me after Adam West, AKA BATMAN.

27. I hope to someday own a pack of wolves that I can run through a forest with -- and maybe hunt deer or something. Seriously, I want a pack of wolves.

28. I've spent a serious amount of time thinking about how I could genetically engineer a Pokemon into existence.

29. I will stop mid-sentence or dead in my tracks if I see something fuzzy, fluffy, colorful, squishy, shiny, or twinkly so I can go take a closer look. That usually means I poke it and that usually is followed with an excited squeal of glee.

30. stepping on cracks makes me uncomfortable. I usually try to time my strides to avoid doing so.

31. In high school I tried to start a boy band with my buddies. We were to be known as N’Chink.

32. While other student body officers got voted for senior superlatives in the yearbook like "best all around" and "best person to take home to your parents," I got... "worst senioritis." The day they tried to go to my sixth period class to retake my picture for it, I wasn't there.

33. I have been pushed to the Mexican border in a shopping cart. By a homeless bum.

34. I eat an offensive amount of bread / dessert / baked goods. I cannot resist a slice of tiramisu, a chocolate croissant or any sort of freshly baked bread. I am that girl who asks for more Red Lobster biscuits to go at the end of dinner.

35. Zombies complete my life.

36. McDonalds saved my life when I was 3 years old. I was not recovering from my appendicitis surgery because I refused to eat hospital food. All it took was a cheeseburger and fries from the Golden Arches and I was on my way to a healthy life of fast food.

37. If someone came up to me and asked, "Do you want to be vampire?" I would say "yes!" **DISCLAIMER: this has NOTHING to do with Twilight!! Damn all these newfound vampire lovers who think vampires can be vegetarians who glisten like diamonds in the sun. Bleh.

38. I love the smell of STORAGE... specifically, the smell of the cold room in the lab I work in and the musty smell of old bathroom cabinets.

39. Skinny dipping in the ocean in the middle of the night with your friends is insanely liberating. You'll feel like you just started living. If you're shy, I recommend doing it just slightly intoxicated :)

40. In elementary school, we had something called Books and Beyond, where you could advance a level every time you read 300 pages. You received a gold medal if you reached 8 levels. In third grade, I reached level 119.

This is a video I threw together of the flashmob last weekend at Horton Plaza in Downtown San Diego. Objective was to have people dressed as clowns going around, and if asked, denying that they knew anything about the other clowns or if there was a convention in town.

 

Lab fair today. Swag count:

6 miniprep kits

1 business card holder

2 calendars

2 giftbags

1 laser pointer

1 magnetic desk toy

2 posters

2 pens

Lots of free food

Pictures taken from related facebook group.

The following list has been compiled from the candidates of Fark.com's headlines of the year. Fark.com is a site which takes news articles and rewrites their headlines to be more accurate, more politically incorrect, or just generally more entertaining. It specializes in poking fun at news outlets which release stories that aren't really news but pointless time fillers. The following headlines are my favorite from the year gone by.

 

1. The man who wrote "Roget's Thesaurus" is written up in a book. He is agape, agog, alarmed, amazed, anxious, appalled, astonished, astounded, and awestruck by this development

2. PETA activist changes her name from Rachel Feather to Rachel FishingHurts. One letter off from a new career in porn

3. Women robs bank with... whatchamacallit... candy. Because she's not a butterfingers, she left no evidence behind. Be on the lookout for a chunky suspect on 5th Avenue who might have as much as 100 grand

4. Naomi Campbell, of all people, sits down for interview with Hugo Chavez, proving once again that the problem isn't that there are too many fools on Earth but rather that lightning bolts are improperly distributed

5. Male prostitute strangled two men and their cat because he wanted money for heroin. It is unclear just how much money the cat had

6. Looking for some thrills? The occasionally interactive big cat exhibit at the San Francisco zoo just reopened

7. Last German WWI veteran dies at age 107. WE WIN

8. Five killed and dozens injured in perfume factory fire. EAU DE HUMANITY

9. Two Amtrak trains stranded near Donner Pass. There are 400 passengers, so they are not expected to run out of food

10. Explosion at winery leaves workers weak bodied with a rich red hue, containing discernible hints of charred debris and strong character best described as dead

11. Court says Mom can't sue over circumcision. Thanks for the tip

12. Woman who had phone sex with a man claims he raped her... over the phone. Man says that is impossible, he doesn't even work for Verizon

13. Gerbil causes 3-car accident; article doesn't say which gere he was in at the time

14. Teacher found guilty of cramming 13 people at once into his Volvo. Paris Hilton congratulates him on breaking her record before realizing she misunderstood the statement

15. A Cambridgeshire church has lost its "Spitting Vicar". The English language, however, has gained another euphemism for "Penis"

16. Disagreements shake Djibouti. Shake, shake, shake. Shake, shake, shake. Shake Djibouti

17. Church calls zombie parade blasphemous because they already had an Easter parade over a month ago

18. What exactly goes through the mind of someone who decides that the best place for a grenade they've just found is on a fire? Shrapnel, presumably

19. Thieves steal £30,000 of handbags before escaping on mopeds, in what police believe to be an attempt to break the record for World's Least Masculine Crime

20. Now that certain words -- like the other word for donkey -- must be filtered on the Internet: President Abraham Lincoln was buttbuttinated by an armed buttailant after a life devoted to the reform of the U.S. consbreastution

21. Oral sex study finds that people only read the first two words of web headlines

22. Two swimmers dead, Juan Moore missing

23. MILFish math teacher learns that 17 does not go into 35 without a serious remainder

24. "Band-aid" rapist gets 11 years of Johnson & Johnson & Johnson & Johnson & Johnson

25. We've secretly replaced this mugger's intended victim with a four time national karate champion. Let's see if anyone notices

26. Trailer full of donations catches fire at Missouri Goodwill store, creating dangerous amounts of second-hand smoke

27. Bride dies of a "sore throat" ten days after she got married. Must have been one hell of a honeymoon

28. Comic book store owner sentenced to home confinement by court, lifestyle

29. Father of two crushed to death after falling into printing press. This story is continued on Pages 3, 4, 9 and 10

30. One armed girl swims circles around competition

31. You are what your mother eats. So, if you turn out to be a bit of a dick, you know why

32. Man accuses NYC police of sodomizing him with walkie-talkie. He could be telling the truth, or he could just be talking out of his ass

33. CPR needs to be done at the tempo of "Stayin' Alive" by the Bee Gees to be effective. Or, if you're not feeling terribly optimistic, "Another One Bites the Dust", by Queen

34. Zoo janitor decides to give himself a promotion to animal feeder. He was delicious

35. Riots, arson continues in Athens. Doesn't anybody know how to put out a Greece fire?

36. Pollution causes smaller penises. Vicious cycle for Hummer drivers

37. New study finds magnet-swallowing is linked to autism. Was previously considered a bipolar disorder

38. 2 charged in stabbing of 3. In related news, 6 in hiding over fears that 7 8 9

39. Woman brings rabid bat to school. How many children will need $800 vaccinations today? One child...two children...three children....? Ah, ah, ah

40. UK Police taser runaway sheep. Or as it's known in Wales: "foreplay"

41. Smooth, long-lasting fire breaks out at Atlanta cigarette warehouse

42. Cardboard warehouse on fire. Perhaps not the best choice in building materials

43. White teacher binds two black students to teach the class about slavery. Jewish students seen changing classes before the Holocaust chapter

44. Spam king sentenced to five years of getting his inbox filled with unsolicited male

Happy New Year to everyone! As the year closes out, I now must take note of the events of this past year, which, by many accounts, particularly those in the economic sector, was a complete disaster. This year, however, I decided to conduct an experiment that can be best summed up as "What would happen if George suddenly became extremely obsessive-compulsive." The 2008 Year in Review is the final result, and is also my Christmas card for this year. I hope you enjoy it.

SYDNEY (Reuters) - Teachers using red pen to mark students' work could be harming their psyche as the color is too aggressive, according to education strategies drafted by an Australian state government.

The "Good Mental Health Rocks" kit, which was distributed this month to about 30 schools in Queensland state, offers strategies such as "don't mark in red pen (which can be seen as aggressive) - use a different color."

http://www.reuters.com/article/oddlyEnoughNews/idUSTRE4B811Q20081209

I'd like to thank the Australian government for contributing to the continued pussification of the world's children. I mean seriously, if your child will be psychologically damaged by the color red, I think you may have a few bigger problems on your hand. Perhaps you should consider it a sign to stop breeding.

Comments on the story:
1. Cut them and grade the tests in their own blood.
2. That's the way we did it in cellular biology. In genetics, we used the blood of the lower quartile of the class.

Kids no longer allowed to dress up as pilgrims and Indians for Thanksgiving. Apparently it's demeaning.

F*** you PC police. Dressing up as an Indian in my paper bag costume and ugly painted feathers was a damn highlight of my childhood.

 

John Updike to receive Lifetime Achievement award for Bad Sex in Fiction

From the article:

The 76-year-old American novelist was a finalist for this year's Bad Sex prize for his description of an explosive oral encounter in his latest book, "The Widows of Eastwick," but lost out to British writer Rachel Johnson.

Johnson won for a passage in her satirical novel "Shire Hell" that describes a woman in the midst of a "mounting, Wagnerian crescendo" wondering whether "the Spodders are, as requested, attending the meeting about slug clearance." Cats and moths also make metaphorical appearances.

 

Not news: Teens arrested at underage drinking party. News: Party was in memory of a kid who died from an underage drinking party. Bonus: Police found out about party on Facebook.

Sometimes the jokes just write themselves.

I thought that with the elections now over and the celebrations or pity parties (depending on whose side you're on) in full swing, I'd take a moment to remind everyone of inappropriate reasons to celebrate, or at least, inappropriate reasons to go buy a cake. The following pictures all come from Cake Wrecks, which has become my new favorite site for sugary disasters.

Shotgun wedding? Anyone? ANYONE?

Yay? I guess? Way to set your goals high.

Not something you'd typically give a cake for, but hey I guess if you wanted to...

I really wonder what was the occasion. Oh and nice touch with the sprinkles.

I think this one was STD related, but I'm not sure. Again, occasion worthy of getting a cake? Questionable.

A stripper on someone's 14th birthday cake...they grow up so fast these days!

Ouch.

And the winner of the least appropriate reason to buy a cake award goes to....this guy.

The following people are hereby banned from voting in the elections and/or speaking until November, by decree of my Writ of Douchebaggery.

1. Anyone who thinks Sarah Palin has "executive experience"

Sorry folks, but Sarah Palin at best has been the luckiest recipient of public offices, not a maverick. She came into office on the heels of the least popular governor in Alaska's history, and her "maverick" work has simply been going in and saying "What did he do? Okay let's do the exact opposite." In addition, being a small-town mayor does NOT earn you any experience. I should know, I come from a small town. Let's take a look at the mayor's responsibilities: (Source: http://www.codepublishing.com/AK/Wasilla/Wasilla02/Wasilla0216.html#2.16)

1.    Preside at council meetings. The mayor may take part in the discussion of matters before the council, but may not vote, except that the mayor may vote in the case of a tie;

2.    Act as ceremonial head of the city;

3.    Sign documents on behalf of the city;

4.    Appoint, suspend or remove city employees and administrative officials, except as provided otherwise in AS Title 29 and the Wasilla Municipal Code;

5.    Supervise the enforcement of city law and carry out the directives of the city council;

6.    Prepare and submit an annual budget and capital improvement program for consideration by the council, and execute the budget and capital program as adopted;

7.    Make monthly financial reports and other reports on city finances and operations as required by the council;

8.    Exercise legal custody over all real and personal property of the city;

9.    Perform other duties required by law or by the council; and

10.    Serve as personnel officer, unless the council authorizes the mayor to appoint a personnel officer.

BASICALLY, she has no real decision making functions. THAT goes to the City Manager.

2. Anyone who pulls the "War Hero" card whenever McCain is criticized.

My apologies for sounding a bit unpatriotic, but as of my last check, a hero requires you to have NOT BEEN SHOT DOWN. Yes, McCain served our country, cannot hold that against him, but you can't say that any criticism of him is unpatriotic.

3. Any Hillary supporter who thinks the Democrats have betrayed them.

I don't know if you've noticed, but Hillary and Obama had pretty much the same position on everything. Just different ways of approach. It's what we call...being a Democrat. So anyone who is saying otherwise, please, go f*** yourself.

4. Evangelical Christians. Stop f***ing up our country.

5. Anyone who cites the fact that we have not had a terrorist attack since 9.11 (or 11.9 for the rest of the world)

You know why we haven't had an attack recently? Because we've done a damn good job of terrorizing ourselves. You can't get on a plane without being strip searched or racially profiled or carry fluids. You can't take photographs in public places without being labeled as a terrorist or pedophile. And we're killing off our armed forces in big numbers. Yep, the terrorists don't need to strike, we've taken care of the fear and killing for them.

6. Anyone who likes Joseph Biden

The man has been acknowledged as the man who united the Shiites and Sunnis -- they collectively rejected his plans for Iraq.

The man votes with the RIAA on issues of privacy, making him possibly the worst choice of public official in a time where Net Neutrality is actually a serious issue.

7. Anyone who is voting for McCain because he has a woman on the ticket. The sexist card is ridiculous.

See #3. And #2.

8. Fox news. And fans.

9. Anyone who thinks the teen pregnancy of Palin's child ISN'T an issue.

Sorry, but this is, especially with Republican's anti-abortion, abstinence only stance. You know they say that intelligent people on average have fewer children than less intelligent, unless forced to (see China). It seems that everytime there's an issue the Republicans toot loudly about to distract people from the real issues, their hypocrisy really shines.

Down with the gays! --> Cheney's daughter is gay, numerous gay Republican senators, lobbyists, etc.

Abstinence only sex ed --> Seriously, does anyone buy the idea that this is working?

So you know what republicans? You want to make abortion an issue? HERE YOU GO. DON'T RUN FROM IT, you pricks.

10. Anyone who votes for someone based on who celebrities endorse. Or political analysts, those pieces of crap.

One of my formative experiences from high school was a class known as Model United Nations. In it, students are taught to debate world issues from the perspectives on various countries, come up with solutions, and vote on them. Well at least that's the official description. A more accurate description is it allows self-important high schoolers to stroke their egos by making up unfeasible problems to world issues. By extension, it is very much like the actual United Nations, except they are adults playing with real money.

In my time in high school, I traveled rather extensively to go to Model UN conferences, from local high school competitions to ones held at various universities across the country. And in that time, I learned that some of the most fun came with debating issues that everyone already agreed on, ie. world hunger. No student, regardless of how uneducated they were, would pick the hilariously unpopular position of “let the poor people starve.” Unless they were Marie Antoinette reincarnate. So what we are then left with is a debate over a nonissue, and a rather boring one at that.

It is at this moment that rookies feel most comfortable – as there is little pressure to actually debate anything. They quickly latch on to the egomaniacs, seeking them like heat-seeking missles. Egomaniacs immediately try to make alliances with as many people as possible, regardless of the nation. Suddenly you find Iran partnering with the United States, Syria partnering with Israel, etc. It is a catastrophic mess of geographic proportions, one that can be best solved with a swift kick in the nuts to everyone involved.

And that is where I begin this story. Faced with an increasingly boring debate, it was clear that the debate was going in circles, with everyone essentially agreeing with one another, but not willing to admit it. The committee chair decided to inject a bit of controversy to get the topic moving again. Enter the five people best capable of starting trouble; the US, UK, Germany, France, and Italy, myself being the UK. The chair pulled us aside and asked if we could start trouble.

“What kind of trouble?” we asked, already happy with the idea that we were just given license to ruin everyone else's day.

“How about a war? Pick any country you'd like.” replied the chair. We thought through our options and quickly picked Lebanon bombing a German train station, or something like that (this was, oddly, before all the terrorist train bombings). And with that, we marched back into the committee room and announced that unless something was done with Lebanon, we were going to bomb the living daylights out of it. Remember, this is Model UN, we can do the improbable.

The egomaniacs went insane. The rookies panicked. Alliances broke off in an instant, and people spewed hatred towards our corner. But goddammit we were not going to budge, because hell if we wanted this to come to a peaceful conclusion, we would've suggested it. No, we were hell-bent on bombing Lebanon, and gave the other countries one hour to convince us otherwise.

There is nothing quite like seeing an egomaniac attempt to grovel and negotiate. They threaten, they whine, and make a generally large fuss.

In the end, we didn't get to pretend to bomb Lebanon, as the committee managed to pretend to come up with a viable resolution at the last minute. We left the conference as we came – world issues unsolved, and students feeling self-righteous about themselves nonetheless. Still, if I get to ruin the day of a few egomaniacs, then that was a war worth fighting.