what you totally should have done for Valentine’s Day

Chuck Norris has a Valentine's present for ya 

For some reason, many men seem to feel that what women really want in a man is want is a yes man, ie someone who, no matter how outrageous her suggestion, always nods and says, “oh that sounds good.” I don’t know if these guys have watched too many episodes of SATC, or if they’re just cribbing off some lame Dave Barry short that  he phoned in one day on deadline, but it is not actually true.

Women of a certain, not-too-distant-from-myself type, may want to do things their way, but they would prefer that all involved understand that this is because their suggestion is the best, not because their fellow is a doormat.

Note that although said fellow may, in fact, actually BE a doormat, it’s probably best for him not to give this impression. Given their druthers, women tend to gravitate towards opinionated animals as pets, not the hokey-dokey labrador type. This is telling, fellas. When the leadership finds out, they’ll put a hit out on my ovaries just for telling you this stuff.

Anyway…

So, given that asking and doing exactly what she tells him is, as we’ve agreed, out, what should the ideal boyfriend do for his ladyfriend on the big V-Day?

Exactly what Chuck Norris tells him to.

I know most men just want to spend Valentine’s Day like any other day – eating Doritos and engaging in a little heavy petting with their girlfriends. V-Day “shebangs” are taxing: they require time, planning and extremely large biceps.

However, after extensive research, I’ve devised a simple strategy: just call Chuck Norris.

To explain, since I’ve been at the University, and am thus more acquainted with what I like to call those “hipster, indie types,” I’ve been privy to a lot of interesting conversations. Most of them concern imaginary battles between trendy “It” fantasy genres: Pirate vs. Ninja! Robot vs. Lumberjack! Space Warriors vs. Chuck Norris! OMG, who will win?!? The answer is simple: Chuck Norris ALWAYS wins….

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the ghost of Anna Nicole Smith takes over the body of Sharon Stone

Well, how else would you explain the following? A familiarity with “Naughty Germans” is something one could easily associate with the erstwhile Trimspa Goddess, the Methadone Muse, as of course is loopily intoxicated showtime behaviour.

But Sharon Stone? Totally different story! Video over the jump…

Stolen from Defamer.

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cash for cadavers, the dead celebrity lottery!

Seal Number Seven...are you sure it wasn't a sea lion?

Cash for Cadavers (Oh, how I wish I’d known about them last week, I coulda made a fortune!) is a uniquely morbid, cynical, and celebrity-obssessed betting system.

So it’s got ME written all over it!

This is the way it works, and yes, it is real.

Each team chips in twenty dollars and picks twenty celebrities they believe will die in the upcoming year. Each celebrity is assigned a point value based solely on how many teams picked that specific person. For instance, everyone seems to feel that The Pope‘s number is up, so his point value is very low. People die, points are accumulated, and the lucky schmo with the most points at the end of the year wins the jackpot.

Points are only awarded to bona fide celebrities. For the sake of this game, celebrity status is determined by North American, non-categorically-specific media source. The Associated Press, for instance, runs a national obituary page every day. USA Today, New York Times, CNN, etc.
We emphasize that it must be a general news source; if your celebrity’s death appears in Field & Stream but nowhere else, he or she is not a celebrity.

Short, nasty and brutish. I love it! The team names are marvelous: My Death in a Box, Please Sir I Want Some Muerte, Tuesday is Rib Nite At Pete’s Crematorium, Croakin’ 2: Electric Deathaloo, Christopher’s Reeve’s Dancecard, and the delightfully obscure Waiting for Bengt Ekerot. Note that their definition of “Celebrity” is quite strict, and is, in fact, the most detailed part of the website. Well, it’s such a competitive field!

BART THE BEAR CLAWS: (Claws? Clause? Har har.) Animals can be played on Cash4Cadavers assuming that they meet the criteria for “celebrity.” Specific, named animals (like Morris the Cat or Bart the Bear) only; none of that “world’s oldest tortoise” crap. If you want to play the world’s oldest tortoise you’ll tell us its name, Poindexter. 

No word on whether stage names are enough to specify a celebustiff, nor any specifics about cases where the soul may have left the body but for whatever cruel and sadistic reason, the Devil hasn’t taken out the trash yet: I would call this the Kissinger Caveat.

Want to see how your picks are doing? Check the Deaths page: I only recognize Art Buschwald, Anna Nicole (the floater is hilarious! See also Paddy Mitchell, eh) and Barbaro. Hey, what’s Arianna Huffington doing in there twice?

I note with interest that it does not actually seem to be against the rules to kill the celebrities yourself.

What? WHAT? I’m just making note of the fine print is all…

Anna Nicole, our angel

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the trouble with Linux

PC, Mac, Linux

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Anna Nicole Smith’s finest moment

Seriously, what did you think she was famous for? Listen to these fans scream: they would cheer on a trainwreck if it wore a really trashy dress. As Nietzsche  says, when we cease to worship the old gods they die, and whatever we do worship becomes the new god.

Is this enlightenment?

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