Recently I told you about Friedrich Schiller, the famous German writer. Folks dug up a skull they thought was his, and then 100 years later they dug up another and debated which one was really him.

Then they dug up the remains of his son and grandson for DNA comparisons, and dug up the grandson’s WIFE, because once you start digging up skulls, it’s so hard to stop.

Well. Scientists have finished testing, and I can tell you which was Schiller. NEITHER one! Yes, those dudes exhumed several generations of Schillers, their spouses, pets, neighbors and proctologists, just to amass a stack of skulls belonging to no one in particular.

So now they have a huge supply of Certified Nobody Skulls which I’m guessing will show up soon on eBay. I just hope they’ve learned a valuable lesson: when famous people die, decapitate them on the spot and save a lot of Sturm und Drang later.

One of the skulls that isn’t Schiller’s is tested. REUTERS/ Handout/MDR

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Once upon a time, Grandma sent her three grandchildren into the woods to gather blackberries, so she could make a fine dessert for dinner.

The first child returned with a pail of plump blackberries. The second came back with red holly berries, which happen to be poisonous. The third went into the city, pulled the Big Con Switcheroo on a bunch of dimwit business guys, and brought grandma a bucket of BlackBerry handhelds with high resale value.

Grandma tossed the plump blackberries out for the robins. She baked the holly berries into a festive pie which she sent to the IRS along with her tax check. Then she pawned the handhelds for a bundle, and tonight she’s eating at Cheesecake Factory. The children get their fine dessert, and granny is knocking back Tanqueray martinis like there’s no tomorrow.

And they all lived happily ever-after.

Trashed Blackberry phones in a bucket during the NBC Today Show in New York, April 21, 2008. REUTERS/ Lucas Jackson

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This is a macabre story. Friedrich Schiller was a famous German writer. He was born in 1759 (not 1788 as we first posted) while his father was off at the Seven Years War. Back then, they named wars like that so both sides knew how long they had to fight.

Schiller wrote lots of great stuff and was associated with “Sturm und Drang.” That may be a German law firm, but I didn’t look it up. He died in 1805 and was buried in a mass grave. A few years later officials dug up the grave, figured the biggest skull was Schiller’s, and kept it.

A century passed. Researchers dug up another skull and claimed IT was Schiller’s. A debate ensued as scholars, um, jawboned. Imagine two yellowed skulls with flappy jaws saying, “I’M FRIEDRICH!” “NO! I AM!”

Now, there’s DNA. As any civilized people would do, they’ve dug up the remains of Schiller’s son, and grandson, for comparisons. Oh, and did I mention they also dug up the WIFE of the GRANDSON? No kidding. Someone please call Sturm und Drang and put a stop to this!

Actors rehearsing the Friedrich Schiller drama “William Tell” in a 2004 file photo. REUTERS/ Marcus Gyger

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Welcome back to Great Challenges in Advertising. A woman in South Korea says she found a rat head in some shrimp cracker snacks, and we’re wondering how they could reposition that product in the marketplace. Your suggestions so far:

• Rat head shrimp crackers, the snack that can’t go bad!
• They’re skull-crunchingly yummy!
• Rat head: when you just don’t feel like a whole rat
• Rat head, like the shrimp flavor isn’t bad enough…
• Rat head crackers - they’re plague-o-licious!

Related post: What happens in Rat Island stays in…

A woman selects grilled rats in Thailand in a 2007 file photo. REUTERS/Sukree Sukplang

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Confidential memo to fashion show staff: Now, please keep an open mind about this, because times are tough and we still need to cut more costs. We spend a fortune putting on these shows, and why? Because we use live models!

But what if we used dead ones? I don’t mean like really old gross decayed ones, but you know, just very recently departed ones. They don’t complain about the outfits, they don’t talk back and the only cost is some dry ice!

Joey, you get the lawyers to research the laws on dead model usage. Kelli, you go to the hardware store and buy all the wheelbarrows they’ve got….

Slideshow:   Related post: You gals work for the Lone Ranger, or what?

Models present creations from designer Dino Alves Autumn/Winter 2008-2009 collection during Lisbon Fashion Week in Estoril March 6, 2007. REUTERS/Hugo Correia

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Blog Guy, I have an unusual fashion problem.  

I work in Hell. Oh, don’t seem so surprised. It’s a service industry just like anything else! We greet the newcomers, stoke the fires, cook the Brussels sprouts, and so on.

I want clothes that fit with the mood, but still let me have a social life. Outfits that say, ”Welcome to eternal damnation, do you know anybody looking for a fun time?”

Sure! I get the statement you want to make. It’s like, ”I’m Lady Death, but hey, I have a whimsical side, too!” I think some creations from this Paris show would be perfect for you.

Related post: Evening, Mrs. Vader. Darth is over there…

Model presents creations by Japanese designer Yohji Yamamoto as part of his Fall/Winter 2008/09 women’s ready-to-wear fashion show in Paris February 25, 2008. REUTERS/ Gonzalo Fuentes

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Hey, Blog Guy! I don’t know if you remember me. You recently wrote about my search for some beautiful women I saw in New York City: Dude seeks attractive mystery women.

As a result of your blog a lot of people offered to help, and yesterday I found them, in Los Angeles! But now here’s the problem. When I approached them, they waved brassieres at me! Don’t you think that’s a little, you know, brazen? Forward? Assertive? Brassy? Trampy? Tawdry? How do I know they’re not floozies, if you catch my drift?

You moronic yokel, you misread the social signals! That’s how women in California show their political leanings. A chick waving a red bra is a Republican, and blue is for Democrats. These ladies were just inviting you to engage in lively debate.

Related: Okay, who had 131 in the pool?

Victoria’s Secret models pose at the launch of the Biofit Uplift Bra in Los Angeles March 4, 2008. REUTERS/Mario Anzuoni

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Here is an uplifting, inspirational story. When children  make grotesque faces, all parents say: “Your face could freeze like that. It happened to a girl I read about today in the paper.”

Well, who knew? There really is a condition called “Ugly Frozen Face.” I know, because I read about it today in the paper. A victim of this syndrome, a plucky lass named Tiffany, battled her way up to  model in a major fashion show. The audience cheered her wildly. 

The thing is, she wore such repulsive designs that nobody even noticed her face! Backstage, our gullible Tiffany said, “I’m taking off this gross piece of barf outfit before it freezes to my body. That happened to a model I read about today in the paper.”

A model presents a creation by Honey mi Honey at the Kobe Collection Spring/Summer 2008 in Tokyo February 23, 2008.  REUTERS/Kiyoshi Ota

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Haute couture is my life, but I must admit I’m baffled at times.

For instance, the photo caption calls this “a creation,” but to me, it just looks like some chick having a butt. Is smoking a cigarette with black gloves and red lipstick the creative part, or what?

Was this lady supposed to stop and light up on the runway, because I have to say that will make fashion shows pretty tedious. Perhaps the designer should have looked for a slightly less addicted model?

I’m telling you right now, if I start seeing fetchingly attired models festooned with nicotine patches, that’s going to detract from the fashion show aesthetic. And once they start hacking up yellow phlegm on the audience, well, that’s a little more glamour than I can stand….           

A model displays a creation as part of DSquared2 Fall/Winter 2008/ 09 women’s show during Milan Fashion Week February 21, 2008. REUTERS/Alessandro Garofalo

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Some pig farmers have a problem. In what they call a last-ditch attempt to save Britain’s pork industry, they are releasing a song on the Internet, called “Stand by your Ham.” See, it’s a reworking of “Stand by your Man,” with a porcine theme.

I’m not sure their choice is quite catchy enough to get the job done. Why didn’t they go for one of the better-known songs from the pork genre? Johnny Cash’s iconic “I Walk the Loin,” Sonny and Cher’s 60’s anthem “I Got You Babe,” the sentimental barbershop quartet standard “Pig ‘o My Heart,” or that favorite from the musical “South Pacific,” “Dites-Moi, Pork-Qua,” just to name a few.

But then again, with photos like these floating around, maybe it’s too late for songs.

Piglets in an undated file photo. REUTERS/University of Missouri-Columbia/Handout

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