How you do, die, do, die do.

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http://www.plosone.org/article/info%3Ad ... ne.0015812

This study examines whether cause of death influences racial classification on death certificates.

1. Death from cocaine overdose = caucasian
2. Death from being mugged in E St Louis = ofay
3. Death from being hit upside the head in Newark = honkey
4. Death from being caught with pimp's best ho = DEAD honkey

1. Death from natural causes = Negro
2. Death from drug overdose = black
3. Death from drowning = stole more chain than he could swim with
4. Death from coming through windshield = breaking and entering.
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Sarah Palin and daughter Bristol seek to trademark names

. Political trademark infringements we'd like to see:

Pelosi Miracle Skin Flattener and Eyeball Popper
Biden Biography Generator
Obama Ear Extensions
Harry Reid's Hairy Reeds
Sarah Palin's Leftist Assploder

To the tough guy in his mom's basement

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Bloodthirsty keyboard commandos are we,
riding our La-Z-Boys, safe as can be.

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But I've Felt the Heat

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I have a fascination with the flapper's doodle-do,
the Roaring Twenties captured; Rudy Vallee's talley-hoo.
Through used book stores in many states I've plowed the dusty tomes,
snared two hundred plus old prints, lugged rare collections home.

But that was merely starting off: I devoured each one of them
and visualized the mise en scène of Babbitt's life back when.
Ah, Sinclair Lewis, he's the man who brought Main Street to life.
Elmer Gantry, Arrowsmith and Dodsworth --- sharp as knives.

Of course Fitzgerald's Gatsby after Bernice Bobs Her Hair,
was written less as fiction -- tantamount to being there.
Days of Dorothy Parker, Alqonquin's ditsy queen,
Round Table regnant reigning over literary scene.

Warren Harding's rise and tragic fall before the swamp
of Tea Pot Dome and calumny engulfed his aides-de-camp.
I've read the history so many times, I was there if truth be told.
Those images became memories: I'm a virtual hundred years old.

Tucson shooting ... not really Reichstag

Without invoking Godwin by hauling up Hitler, I liken what the liberals are doing to what social conservatives do who are of a certain mindset over abortion.

There have been numerous studies done, including one by the Baptist university, Baylor, that show no connection between abortion and breast cancer. Unwilling to let their fervently wished for connection go, these people actually pray for a cancerous connection to be found. In essence, they pray for cancer, not unlike liberals who pray for a lunatic-rightwing connection. He who loudly predicts evil in others is making a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Star Trek: Wedgie

"Plot complication showing up on ship's sensors now, Captain. I am switching to visual...Computer data coming in now, Captain. It's just what we need: a colossal negative space wedgie of great power coming right at us at warp speed."

Captain: Roger. Doctor Crusher?
Crusher: Crusher here.
Captain: We are expecting a massive wedgie. Get sick bay ready for casualties.
Crusher: Captain, I ... we don't have procedures for treating wedgies. Request permission to use the emergency medical hologram as a guinea pig for testing possible treatments.
Captain: Granted.
EMH: What is the nature of the emerg... What in the hell is that? You can't .... Aaaaaaarrrrrghhhhhh!!
Worf: Captain.
Captain: What is it Mr Worf?
Worf: Since as a Klingon I have the strongest loins of anyone on the bridge, I believe it would be best if I take command of the ship before the wedgie hits.
Riker: I don't think so, Worf. As first officer, my loins outrank yours. And as for which of us is the loiniest... Diana?
Troy: Please, Will, not now.
Riker: But you said...
Troy: I don't care what I said. I won't compare...
Worf: What did you say? Why you sorry bi....
Captain: Stop it. That's enough. How much longer do we have until the warping wedgie arrives, Mr Data?
Data: About eighteen minutes, sir.
Captain: Geordi?
LaForge: Engineering, aye.
Captain: The wedgie. Get Broccol... uhm... Barclay on it.
LaForge: Aye, aye, Captain. How long do I have?
Captain: Until the next commercial break.

The Negotiation

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"I'll surrender my armies and hand up my sword
depending on how you will treat me, my lord."

The weary commander, resolved in his voice,
sized up his opponent then gave him a choice.

"Stand down your attackers, call off the strike,
and I'll mercifully put your chopped head on a pike."

"What would you do with my body below?"
the squinty-eyed foreigner wanted to know.

"I'll tie your bare limbs one each to a steed,
then drive them to gallup away at high speed."

"And what would become of my thus quartered torso?"
"I'll paint each limb blue then bludgeon it moreso."

"And will my piked head be looking toward home?"
the supplicant asked as the commander groaned.

"Listen, you jack-wad, you're going to be dead.
What does it matter which way goes your head?"

And with that the commander unsheathed his sword,
whacked his opponent, cut off his gourd.

The lesson, my children, to take from this bit
is get what you can but don't sweat the small shit.