Oddly Enough Blog
News, but not the serious kind
Hey, Blog Guy! You used to warn us about signs of the coming apocalypse, but you haven’t mentioned that recently. Does that mean everything is getting better?
No you don’t.
I am not making this up. Some “conceptual artist” is having professionals tattoo the pigs.
What’s a “conceptual” artist?
I think it means not a real artist at all, and possibly not even a real human. Anyway, as if pigs don’t have enough problems in their sad lives, these guys will be displayed as part of art exhibitions, and their skins will be sold to collectors once they’re slaughtered. I’m pretty sure that’s called a lose-lose situation.
b) hand the evidence over to your lawyer and take hubby to the cleaners
c) put the evidence up for sale on eBay
Pay attention, folks! If it’s humiliating, tawdry or tacky, you can make money out of it, which is what a wife is doing with the lacy black panties and condom wrapper she found in her bed.
Did I mention that morning Mass was being said at the time?
Yes sir, yes ma’am, I believe the express train to Hell does stop right outside the cathedral here. It should be along any minute now… Can I get you some ice water?
I have a deep fear that wax museums will totally confuse the future civilizations that discover them centuries from now. What will they think, finding a waxy Paris Hilton in prison stripes?
But I must say that a couple of days ago I had a brief flash of appreciation for this art form, upon seeing a tableau of assorted politicians, all grinning at a waxen Pope Benedict around his birthday cake.
You may have read about this cult in Russia, where members are gradually leaving their leaky, collapsing underground bunker even before Doomsday, which they reckon will come this month or next.
If you’re thinking of joining up, here is a statistic: nobody in the history of doomsday cults has ever died being right, and chances are far greater you’ll end up dying of embarrassment. Even if one of these cults DOES prove correct, they won’t be able to gloat about it. Where’s the fun in that?
a) in the Playboy Mansion
b) at the Emperor’s Club escort service
c) in the lobby of the Victoria’s Secret home office
d) at a regular shopping mall in Portugal
The answer is d. I missed it, too. Of course, the real question about these things is, what do you do when your five-year-old child needs to go? “Joey, Daddy doesn’t know why those silly ladies are dressed like that. Listen, can you just hold it in, and we’ll be home in a few hours?”
Hmmmm. A very good question, and something I should have noticed myself! One sec, let me consult my Nostradamus. Let’s see. Underpants… Times Square… Yokels. Blue candy…$6 million… Yep, it’s all in there, so I think you’re right.
The latest such sign is that tasers – those personal stun guns that zap an assailant with enough electricity to make him resemble a twitching skeleton – are now available in pink, red and leopard, with holsters that double as MP3 music players.