tombstoning with style

Now this, ladies and gentlemen, is how not to tombstone:

A 25-year-old holidaymaker faces being permanently disabled after a “tombstoning” accident.

Police said the man from Sheffield sustained a “life changing injury” when he jumped into the water of the Isles of Scilly, 28 miles west of Land’s End…

The accident on Friday is the latest casualty resulting from “tombstoning” – jumping off cliffs, piers, harbour walls or other high points into water.

Across the country the activity causes about 200 serious injuries a year and claims about 15 lives.

And here is the late, great Merv Griffin to show us all how to do it right:

Merv Griffin’s Tombstone

“When Eva Gabor was still alive, she’d get up early at the ranch, and when I’d get up an hour later, I’d walk down to the stable, and every horse in the pasture would have red lipstick on it.”
Merv Griffin

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Microsoft kills Santa Claus, blames little girls

Dead Santa!

Typical!

In a bid to take over where the Post Office leaves off (North Pole, postal code H0H 0H0) Microsoft this year introduced a Santa Claus MSN bot, for kids who, presumably, have better things to do that wait in line at the mall to talk to Santa.

Then they killed Santa.

From The Register:

Here’s the whopper that Microsoft spokesman Adam Sohn told AP: “It’s not like if you say, ‘Hello Santa’, he’s going to throw inappropriate stuff at you.”

Drunk SantaErm, yes it is, Adam. It’s pretty much exactly like that. When we innocently asked him to eat something, Santa said: “It’s fun to talk about oral sex, but I want to chat about something else.”

The slapdash job Microsoft did on the supposedly festive chat agent was revealed when Reg reader Iain’s nieces offered Santa some pizza. According to Microsoft the girls were “pushing this thing to make it do things it wasn’t supposed to do”.

Yep, Santabot was taken out behind the sled and shot faster than you can say “Old Yeller.”

Well, you can leave him cookies and milk if you insist, but it’s clear to astute readers what Santa really wants this year!

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RIP: Marcel Marceau est mort

Words fail me, so here:

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Molly Ivins on mortality

Molly Ivins

From the New York Observer article on Molly IvinsNYC memorial service (via Gawker):

The most poignant moments were provided by Eden Lipson, a former Times colleague and one of Ivins’ closest friends.

“A few years ago I finally realized that it was us, the cosmopolitan New Yorkers in the media capitol, with our literary and political gossip and hermetic chattering who were, in fact, provincial,” said Ms. Lipson. “ Molly was the one who saw America large and clear, who out-reported the mainstream media from Austin, who had a balanced and ultimately optimistic view of the world. Molly’s generosity was legendary, but in addition, she was brave. She went on book tours two and half times while on chemotherapy.”

Ms. Lipson was also diagnosed with cancer last year. Before it went into remission, Ivins came to visit her at the hospital. This is what she told her friend:

“Understanding mortality is entirely personal and won’t know it until you face it. The cancer will probably kill you in the end, but moving ahead, do as much as you can . . . until you can’t.”

“And then it’s okay to let go.”

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RIP: Pavarotti

I’m late on this, but I’m sure you’ll understand it took me some time to work through my feelings. Pavarotti was a greatly talented man, and perhaps the highest iteration of a particular type, ie the man possessed of immortal talent who doesn’t mind trotting it out at his Mom’s every damn Sunday dinner, or singing at a friend’s birthday party, or showing up for any benefit concert that will have him, provided they lay on the pasta spread.

And I love people like that. To the other, equally talented individuals who hoard their gifts as if they are MRE’s in the face of Katrina, we say: can I buy you an enema, darling?

Luciano Pavarotti, perhaps the greatest opera singer of the 20th Century, and disco diva/supermodel Grace Jones, at a benefit for Angola.

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