NO NEONICOTINOIDS in good old traditional napalm. “I am sure they are being overly cautious in banning these so-called ‘bee-harming’ pesticides,” said Much Craplock farmer, Silage Marner. 119 more words
via Farmers return to traditional pest control methods to save bees — The Daily Squabble
FRAMINGHAM, Mass. The housing market in the Boston area is hot so times should be good for Ed Rensell, a retired insurance broker who depends on occasional notary public fees to cover income gaps left by his pension. “It’s only $2 a document, but that’s a cup of coffee at McDonald’s,” he says as he glares with envy across the […]
via Antics of “Extreme” Notaries Irk the Calling’s Old Guard — Gerbil News Network
Pennsylvania Lottery spokesgroundhog Gus was arrested this afternoon in Erie for indecent exposure while filming a commercial for the lottery’s newest $30 instant game, “You Just Lost 30 Dollars!” Gus, who is always seen wearing a shirt but no pants, was taken into custody after an elderly lady happened upon the bare waisted rodent taking […]
via Lottery Mascot Gus Arrested for Indecent Exposure — gooferie
The trip was brief.
The controversy has endured.
Four Big Macs were purchased. Four Big Macs were present in the take-out bag. Four Big Macs were removed from the take-out bag. One person claims to have never gotten a Big Mac. Three others claim to have eaten only one Big Mac apiece.
Accusations have flown. Accusations still fly.
That fateful night:
The names have been changed to…screw it, these are the actual names.
Lance: Give me my Big Mac.
Matt: You ate it.
Lance: No I didn’t.
Matt: Yes you did.
Lance: I think I would remember eating a Big Mac.
Matt: Evidently you don’t.
Lance: Hey Al, you ate my Big Mac didn’t you?
Al: (Al grunts something inaudibly as he consumes his Big Mac, and drools on himself.)
Me: Well I didn’t eat it.
Lance: One of you ate my Big Mac!
An hour later, sitting on Matt’s front porch.
Lance: I can’t believe you guys ate my Big Mac.
Matt: You ate the Big Mac!
Lance: Look at me, I have no sesame seeds on me. If had eaten a Big Mac, I would have sesame seeds all over me.
Me: Maybe the seeds fell off.
Lance: What about the lettuce? What about the secret sauce? There’s not a drop of secret sauce on my face…I can’t believe you guys ate my Big Mac.
Years later:
Lance: Remember that night you guys ate my Big Mac.
Matt: YOU ate the Big Mac!
Still more years later:
Lance: I really wanted that Big Mac that you guys ate that night.
Matt: (Says nothing in an act of silent frustration.)
More recently:
Lance: One of you ate my Big Mac that night.
Matt via email: There’s no dispute, Lance wolfed it down in two bites.
Lance: That’s not how it went down.
Like Amelia Earhart’s strange disappearance into the Bermuda Triangle; the years have offered no answers, only more questions.
So if you’re ever traveling on that mysterious stretch of road, and you have take-out, be wary.
Cry Wolf Satirical News (COVINGTON, La.) St. Paul’s School is well-known for its haircut policy requiring any student whose hair grows past a certain length to cut it, as well as shave any facial hair they have, or face disciplinary action. A St. Paul’s student has reportedly joined a gang and fallen into a […]
According to the office supplies on Natalie’s desk, Highlighter has become frustrated with the dating scene due to reasons purportedly beyond his control. He claims that his need to be the center of attention is innate to his character and cannot be altered. “I just want someone to love me for who I am,” Highlighter […]
Being held for public indecency.
Traffic at the intersection of routes 28 and 85 in Rayburn Township, Pennsylvania, was shut down by a pair of cows having amorous relations. According to Trooper John Corna, troopers “kept trying to shoo them off the highway, but that just got the bull mad and it started to escalate.”
Of course, it made him mad, wouldn’t it make you mad if you were trying to have an intimate moment with your lady friend, and some dude started shooing you?
Well, it really ticks off bulls.
In a previous post about bull-riders, I detailed a few things that bulls hate. I may have left that list a tad incomplete. So in the interest of completion, (pun intended) more things that make bulls angry:
If I have left anything off the list, I apologize.
It’s really irritating when you want to finish something, but can’t; just ask the bull.
“Say shoo to me one more time.”
It’s been a long winter without much of a spring in New England, and I was beginning to get worried about the malaise that Spot–the dog puppet you may remember from Pets.com commercials–had fallen into. He’s usually a chipper little chap, but lately he’s been taciturn . . . phlegmatic . . . distrait; and those are just […]
The delightful aroma of feet.
There is one salient fact about Limburger cheese: it is just awful. The only time I would need Limburger cheese, would be if I needed something that smelled like death and the smell from my giant pile of opossum crap just wasn’t enough.
Did you know the bacterium used to ferment Limburger cheese is the same bacterium that is responsible for body odor, and in particular, foot odor?
If you’ve ever smelled Limberger cheese, you had your suspicions.
Limburger cheese was first created in the Duchy of Limburg in the 19th century by a man who had just come home from a hard day of cheese making. He had unbuckled and removed his boots and was attempting to enjoy a meal with his wife when he and his wife got into an argument that changed the history of cheese making forever.
Wife: What is that horrendous smell?
Cheesemaker: Ooh, we’re having stoofvlees, I love stoofvlees.
Wife: It’s the most putrid smell I have ever encountered.
Cheesemaker: I don’t smell anything. Pass the ale.
Wife: I think it’s your feet.
Cheesemaker: Seriously. Pass the ale.
Wife: It’s rancorous.
Cheesemaker: It’s not that bad.
Wife: It is that bad. There are people retching on the other side of the Demer River.
Cheesemaker: Do you know what this conversation isn’t doing? It isn’t remedying the fact that I have no ale.
Wife: Your feet smell worse than that giant pile of opossum crap you have behind the house.
Cheesemaker: I’ll get my own ale.
Wife: Why do you even have a giant pile of opossum crap?
Cheesemaker: I’ll tell you why, (he pauses to take a slug of ale) because someday you’ll be in desperate need of copious amounts of opossum crap, and you’ll be glad it’s there.
Wife: I’ve thought the same thing about you, but it still hasn’t happened. Besides, it’s the worst smell in the world.
Cheesemaker: Nonsense. It’s not the worst smell in the world. In fact, I’ll bet that I could make a cheese that smells worse.
Wife: I doubt it.
Cheesemaker: You’ll see; it will become my mission.
Wife: Shut up and drink your ale.
And drink his ale he did.
And succeed he did–beyond his wildest ale-fueled dreams.
Of course, his wife left him and his giant pile of opossum crap.
The Duchy of Limburg is now divided by modern-day Germany, the Netherlands, and Belgium. None of the three countries wanted it: it reeked of Limburger cheese and developed a huge opossum problem.
Addendum: there are historians who will tell you certain items in this story aren’t factual–historians suck.
The aroma of their crap is delightful.
idiotpruf 