From the stuff you can’t make up department: In Florida, some lawyers have got their briefs all in a twist.
What’s with all the television mystery series’ ending their seasons with cliffhangers?
Do the big brains at the studios seriously expect that, at our Fourth of July picnics, we’ll be wondering how the September (or October or maybe even November after the college football season) opening episode of “Life in the Fast Lane” will pull our heroes back from the edge of the cliff or, for that matter, we’ll remember it at all?
You can’t make this stuff up twits.
As the Emperor Augustine is reputed to have said when presented with something too stupid for words, “Words fail me. Nothing I can say can express the depths of my feelings on this matter.”
Honest to Pete, you can’t make this stuff up.
Hate does have a way of devolving into stupid.
My ex was a nurse. Whenever she was a patient and had to wear a hospital gown, she would always grab two and wear one frontwards, the other backwards.
Beyond complaints about flimsy materials and faded colors, patients in focus groups have told the hospital they feel exposed with current gowns — in ways that promote an unnecessarily hierarchical relationship with caregivers.
For some fool reason (as my mother would have said), they need a study to confirm that persons don’t like walking around with their rear ends hanging out on public display.
Your security farces at work:
Three batarangs, those roughly bat-shaped throwing weapons used by Batman.
It’s not the beer; it’s the brotherhood.
In a terrible miscalculation, a Louisiana State University fraternity entrusted four underage members to transport its massive beer and booze cache from Baton Rouge to sunny Gulf Shores, Alabama, where the collegians this week are celebrating spring break.
They got pulled over for expired tags and their fortunes went downhill from there.
Follow the link for the inventory of their cargo. I’ve been to bars that keep less stock on hand.
(On second thought, it’s the beer.)
Shaun Mullen thinks he may have uncovered that rarest of the rare things, an actual case of voter fraud.
This was likely nothing more than a mistake. Then, again, it could be part of a campaign to make his brother look like “the smart one.”
The lust of the media to make make up myths about kids’ getting high on weird stuff that no one is actually getting high on mystifies many.
The victim’s 17-year-old daughter told cops that she left the brownies out because she did not think anyone in her family would touch them (the girl was apparently unaware of the deep affinity middle-age men have to such unattended sweets).
Back in my younger days, I had one guiding principle: Don’t do something stupid and you won’t get caught.