Like unicorns? Like little old ladies? You’ll love Grannycorn!

Oh, I feel so evil, posting this.

Granicorn, yo!

Yangcheng Evening Post reports that 95 year old Granny Zhao of China first spotted a mole on her forehead three years ago. It’s since grown into the pumpkin husk like shape you see above.

Granny Zhao says it causes her no discomfort and only blocks part of her vision. It doesn’t really bother her and she basically pays it no mind. Her family, on the other hand, is hoping that medical experts can explain what the fuck it is.

Silly blogger: it’s magic! Everyone knows that if the Buddha kisses your third eye you grow a magical unicorn horn there…and you can use it for dowsing or even pick up some pretty cool radio stations! Granny Zhao is all ovah that hip hop shit.

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problem solved!

Space Slug!Faithful readers and relentless stalkers might remember a few days ago I referred to a small “slug on the ceiling” problem, nothing too unusual chez raincoaster. Last year it was mushrooms growing in the livingroom; this year, it’s flying slugs. But it seems at last there is a solution somewhat more sophisticated than the old sprinkle salt on them, squeal “EW!” at the top of your lungs, sweep them into a dustpan, shriek when they stick to the broom, carry them outside and whack the broom handle against a tree not quite hard enough to break it procedure.

NASA simply shoots them into space! Teh Ossum! The only questions I have is, do they pick up or should I deliver and can I borrow the Canadarm to pick these buggers off the ceiling?

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Calls for Cthulhu #5

The latest installment of every cultist’s favorite tv show! In this episode, Mighty Cthulhu deals with tech support and New Age-y cetaceans.

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three men busted in horse ring

Stolen from Bridlepath. Many laughs here at the expense of these poor, vicarious-livin’ fools. Not that we’d ever done such a thing ourselves…oh, perish the thought!

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swimming with sharks: the branding meeting in Amity

Jaws, re-edited to reveal the advertising pitch meeting we all sensed was latent in the metaphor-infested waters of that bloated old mauler.

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