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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Blog Guy, it’s that time of month again. What were the most popular postings in your blog? I have a lot of money riding on that one about using dead models in fashion shows. Am I right?

Car Pool Fool

You know, I still think you and your car pool pals should be betting on something other than this, or maybe even saving up in case your kids get into college. But I have to admit you may be pleased with the March results.

Here are the five most popular posts, starting with number five and working my way down to the top slot, like the big guys do it:

5. Why so crabby, Abby?

4. They don’t have enough problems?

3. When stupid guys try to deceive…

2. Proposing marriage not an outdoor sport

1. I wouldn’t be caught dead in that dress!

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My personal policy is I don’t drink booze with anything floating in it that I wouldn’t eat. I’ve missed out on some good tequila, but rules are rules.

That brings us to Bayou Bob, of Bayou Bob’s Brazos River Rattlesnake Ranch. Texas authorities say he was selling bottles of vodka with dead baby rattlesnakes.

Now, you’d think it would be pretty hard to GIVE that stuff away, but it seems Bob found folks who would pay $23 a bottle. These must be guys who fail to grasp the concept of displacement; once you cram a 10-inch snake in a bottle, there’s not much room left for vodka.

If you DID buy a bottle, how should you serve Bob’s stuff? My bartender’s guide suggests cocktails such as a “Death Rattle,” a “Fang ‘n’ Tang,” or a refreshing summer drink called “Venom ‘n’ Lemon.”

Related post: Which end of the snake goes in my mouth?

Not the same guy: Heart of Texas Snake Handler Jack Bibby dangles rattlesnakes from his mouth in a 2007 file photo REUTERS/Jessica Rinaldi

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Maybe he’s not quite the unluckiest guy alive, but he’ll do until Mr. Unlucky comes along. A shepherd in Russia is suing his country’s space agency after a 10-foot-long chunk of metal from a rocket fell into his yard, just missing his outdoor toilet.

He wasn’t in it at the time, but it’s still way too close for me. Would you want your obit to say you died when space rubble pulverized your outhouse? “Hold your horses, honey, I’m almost done! Can you toss in another roll of Charmin, so I can…”

That’s the kind of thing where the family makes up another story, like you went away to shoot an upcoming American Idol series or whatever. I’m pretty sure of one thing: every new outhouse they build there in the future will have a skylight…

Related post: No food? What kind of toilet IS this?

Royal flush? Britain’s Prince Charles walks out of a bush toilet during a visit to Australia in a 2005 file photo. REUTERS/David Gray

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Welcome to a feature we call “Euphemisms in the News.” The genuine photo caption here tells us “people try to avoid a bull which was set loose in the town center…as part of yearly celebrations…”

Um, do these folks not have access to the news? Doesn’t it seem a better way to avoid the bull would be to NOT come downtown that day?

You know, like take the bus to Barcelona instead. Or stay home and watch “Happy Days” reruns, or maybe join a group called “Citizens Against Releasing the Bull Downtown.” I don’t want to sound like Mr. Know-It-All, but I bet I could do a MUCH better job of avoiding that bull, year after year, than these people seem to be doing.

Related posts: “Let’s visit Spain and meet chicks!” and How to be a gentleman

People try to avoid a bull which was set loose in the town center of Vejer de la Frontera, southern Spain, as part of yearly “Toro Embolao” celebrations March 23, 2008. REUTERS/Anton Meres

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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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Two guys are pushing a dead man in an office chair, see, trying to cash his Social Security check, and… No, that’s not a joke, it really happened in New York.

What’s amazing is they were charged with attempted forgery, but it turned out it was not illegal to wheel a chair around with a body in it!

Once word of this gets out, who knows where it will lead, what with this being New York City and all? I’m predicting…

• A Fifth Avenue parade, called Remains to be Seen, to show off the recently deceased
• A Central Park cadaver race, named, of course, Dead Heat!
• An ad campaign where a furniture maker claims its chairs can roll corpses across town the fastest

Jon Decker reports:

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We ran a story about this tavern whose chicken wings are so spicy, folks who order them have to sign a waiver saying they won’t sue. We immediately heard from readers who said they know lots of places that do the same. Are you KIDDING? So, “If you eat our food and go into a coma that’s tough,” is now a marketing strategy?

What do you suppose these release forms say, anyway? Maybe something like, “Our cook never bathes, we get our chickens from a toxic dump and marinate them overnight in a toilet bowl full of caustic drain cleaner, and by the way if you sign this document, welcome to the U.S. Marines.”

Have these consumers never heard of LAWYERS? It’s their JOB to read your chicken wing documents before you sign them! Don’t go out to eat without one…

Joey Chestnut eats wings as a wingette looks on during the 15th annual Wingbowl event in Philadelphia, in a 2007 file photo. REUTERS/ Tim Shaffer

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I’m always looking for careers that might interest my readers, and you recent grads may want to consider the exciting field of professional mourning. It turns out, some families will pay total strangers to sob, convulse and crawl on the ground at funerals.

You’re thinking, Bob, that sounds too easy, but it’s not. You just try weeping on command. Generally, people who can do that break down into several groups:

• Professional actors
• Two-year-old children
• People who just finished watching “To Kill a Mockingbird”

So, if you think you can do as well as those people can, maybe you should start chopping onions and read Ralph Jennings’ story:

President George W. Bush with a crying baby in a 2006 photo. REUTERS/Jim Bourg

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