Yin and Yang: The Bad News, the Good News

Uncool: 4.2 million toys coated in a chemical that, should a child do something childlike, like put one in their mouth, "converts into the toxic 'date rape' drug GHB," have been recalled.

Cool: A teenage boy in Australia jumped on the tracks and saved a stranger from being hit by a train.

Uncool: Both the iPhone and iPod earphones contain harmful chemicals in such concentrations that they violate California state law.

Cool: NASA recently published recordings made from Cassini's jaunt around the solar system, described as "eerie whistling, epic whooshing and warbling echoes." Here's what it sounds like near Enceladus, one of Saturn’s moons.

Uncool: Our National Security Agency has pretty much copied the entire internet and all e-mails as well.

Cool: If you buy $3150 worth of pudding, you can fly free to Europe 31 times.

Nature Is Just Messing With Me Now

Check out the creepily human-looking teeth on this squid, a promachoteuthis sulcus. Just looking at it gives me the heebie jeebies. Does this look like something Stan Winston dreamed up, or what?

Netflix: Subjecting You To Repulsive Imagery For Profit Since 2004!

I'm shrinking this ad down a bit so you don't have to look at it full-scale (click on it if you want to see the whole thing), but I've been wanting to blog and object to it for awhile now.

It's a Netflix ad I see all over the internet -- this time on a Yahoo news page. In the lower right-hand corner are two disgustingly ugly old men, and I don't mean that in an "ew, old people are ugly" way, I mean scientifically disgusting to look at. The old man on the right is bordering on "horror movie" scary.

I want to know who designed and approved these ads, and what kind of creepy, manipulative psychology was behind them. Clearly, the image is so repulsive, your immediate instinct is to look away, and therefore be forced to look at the rest of the ad.

Why don't you put a picture of maggot-covered gangrene in an ad, Netflix? Or a nice little montage of bodies in the street after a car bombing? Our primal self-preservation instinct will immediately make us look away from those images.

Or -- here's a crazy idea -- why don't you just extol the virtues of your product instead? Kthxbye.

(EDIT: Someone at "Hacking Netflix" doesn't like them, either.)

I'd Like To Buy...

It's amazing how the internet knows, based on videos I'm looking at, exactly what I'm interested in buying.

Yes, internet, you're right! Watching a video about the art of Ron Mueck does, in fact, reflect my desire to peruse the wide selection of humans that eBay has for sale.

May I please purchase a giant scale human to keep as my very own special pet? I'll be the envy of all my friends!

I Don't Go to Sleep to Dream

My dreams are weirding me out lately. I've been having a lot more premonition dreams -- dreams that contain details of things that end up happening within the next few days. I've had them all my life. I've dreamt of the unexpected deaths of famous people, unforeseen natural disasters, entire sentences from Presidential press conferences, unplanned visits from long-lost friends, conversation snippets, big and little things -- you name it. I think of it as a loop. The initiation of the loop is the dream, and the closing of the loop is that detail manifesting in the waking world.

I've had premonition dreams since I was a little girl. They happen more when I'm stressed/excited and taking on new challenges. The last time I had an overwhelming amount of them, I was 13. I tried keeping a written record but it was more than I could keep up with. I kept trying to talk to people about them, trying to understand why they were happening, but people were freaked out, and the experience was overwhelming, so I shut them out.

But lately, as I've begun opening myself up for more interaction with others, and giving myself more freedom from within to do things like perform comedy, they've begun coming back, and I'm trying to incorporate them peacefully into my existence. I've had about ten in the last week. Little, cute, amusing details. Maybe warm-ups for bigger, more meaningful ones to come? I was trying not to think about them -- I have so much on my mind right now -- but then last night, a loop connected from a dream I had Tuesday night, in a very frightening way.

After the great ChUC show Tuesday, I came home, exhausted but exhilarated, and dreamt of a threatening male figure emerging from the darkness. The emotional component of this dream was in the context of the show, and me putting myself out into the world in a way I never have before. I'm excited about everything that I'm doing, but it makes me feel very vulnerable sometimes, too. The man in the dream was bedraggled and bearded, in a red plaid shirt and a dirty ballcap, and I knew to be afraid of him. I was trying to avoid him but whichever way I turned, he was in my path, like a glitch in a video game. Suddenly, we were face to face. He spoke to me in a voice that had crackly static and mic feedback in it. "I'm Dan Allison, and I've been thinking about how I'd like to hurt you." I woke up with a pounding heart, and it took me awhile to get back to sleep.

Then -- back to reality -- last night I was riding my bike in the darkness, home from my office, much later than I would have liked. The light was out on my bike, and I'd forgotten my helmet, and I was a little edgy. On an unlit block, I had a creeping sensation up the back of my neck. There was no one around. I dodged some construction machinery by hopping up on the sidewalk. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, a lone man was walking in my direction, out of the darkness. I slammed to a stop when I realized the sidewalk was blocked with construction materials. The man got just close enough for me to make out some details: he was bearded and wearing a red plaid shirt, with a stitched name tag: "Dan." He was wearing a dirty ballcap with a corporate logo patch: "Allison." I rode like hell all the way home.

Yes, I dreamt at least six specific details about a threatening person, and then I saw a person with those six characteristics the next day. I even got two names right, pulled from the ether of my mind and this mysterious universe we find ourselves knocking about in.

What exactly was the point of that, universe? Come on, I'm not hard to scare. Is this a girl thing? A hormonal thing? A crazy sensitive introvert thing? A cosmic thing? If it's some sort of tool or window, I'd like to understand and be able to use it. And I'd like to sleep a bit more peacefully. PM me with some details, Lords of the Cosmos, please.

Monkeylicious? Say It Ain't So!

I love coconut cake as much as anyone, and you don't ever want to stand between me and a box of Chessmen cookies, but I don't know if I can stay on board the Pepperidge Farm love train in light of this purported "flavor feature" that I noticed on the company's website.

"Harvest helpers: In Thailand, specially-trained macaque monkeys pick coconuts from trees."

Is this a charming anecdote, or are the purveyors of my beloved Mint Milanos admitting to profiting from forced monkey labor? And if this is their acknowledgment of putting our simian cousins (for whom I have, admittedly, a well-documented fondness) to work in their deliciousness factories, can they assure us that coconut picking is the extent of what's expected of our little not-quite-uprightly-bipedal friends? Don't make me imagine little cotton-topped tamarins sweating over ovens and sprinkling coconut shavings on cakes under the stern gaze of cruel, whip-cracking human masters -- I mean managers.

Seriously, Pepperidge Farm. What's going on here? If I flip over the coconut cake box and the nutritional information includes a little asterisk that says something like "product may contain mixed monkey parts," my love for you is dead.

Batman Blows Up Chicago, Casts Evil Spell on Chicago's Children

Batman (or some bad guy...who's the bad guy in "Dark Knight?") blew some stuff up today in my fair city.

Yes, they've been filming the new Batman movie here in Chicago for several months. Lots of my nerd friends were e-mailing each other about the impending explosion of an old Brach's candy factory downtown today.

"Dude, take a long lunch. It's Wednesday, anyway, so we have to get to the Vault for the latest issue of Wildstorm's Stormwatch: PostHuman Division. Come on!"

The Tribune was there. "Streams of gold fireworks shot out one window of the structure. Windows were blown out, and then more fireworks came from another part of the building. A ball of fire, a wave of heat, a cloud of smoke and the structure started coming down."

But here's my favorite part:

"I loved it," 7-year-old William Smith said as the smoke started to clear. "One day I'm gonna blow up my own house."

I love you, crazy big city livin'.

Detroit? Hells Yeah!

This banner ad caught my eye yesterday. It's designed to attract visitors to the bustling metropolis of Detroit. Some art director did an commendable job choosing the one photo that represents the best of what Detroit has to offer.

"See what's happening in the D!"

Well, a bleached-blonde woman with big bazoombas on full display is smiling and walking toward someone with some nice dreads. Behind her are some unattractive chairs and what look like super chintzy slot machines. The graphics in the ad are strongly visually reminiscent of a can of malt liquor they used to sell at the convenience store by my house.

So I guess that's what's happening in Detroit: Drinking, gambling, and flirting with cheap women. Is that really worth putting a few hundred extra miles on your car when you can get all those things here in Chicago? You bet your D it isn't.

Dear Fellow Traverser of Chicago City Streets,

Yes, you certainly do own a fine and beautiful automobile. I believe it's a Bentuar, or a Jagley, if my broad knowledge of today's ridiculous luxury vehicles serves me well.

You do not, however, by extension or entitlement, own the Chicago city street on which you and I are currently both traveling.

More to the point, do you have any idea what a great experiential discrepancy there exists between you and me when you decide to honk (from your car) at me (on my bike) -- for reasons I still can't figure out?*

From the surround-sound, air-conditioned, privileged interior of your car, you are perhaps slightly annoyed by my presence, and clearly think nothing of laying all over your horn, and motoring blithely on your way.

From astride my old and rapidly rusting bicycle, burdened with heavy cargo (and no, I don't mean my ass), exposed to all elements both natural and unnatural, I am violently physically startled and almost knocked off my shaky seat by my instinctive physical reaction to the the abrupt and very jarring noise of your horn.

You go on, comfortable, safe, and protected by layers of steel. I go on, my heart pounding and my entire body shaking for several blocks.

All of this is my careful, detailed, and probably unnecessary way of saying what I finally yelled at you after regaining something resembling my composure after today's encounter: "F*CK OFF!"

Love,
Bella Rossa

*Seriously, what was that about? I was not in your way. There was no other traffic on the block. I was not impeding your travel in the least. I wasn't wearing a tank top, or a "Buck Fush" t-shirt, or anything else that might have prompted your jerkass reaction. What?!

Swooning Bloops

Is this technically a fetish? Here's a website archiving very specific scenes in movies - where a man is carrying a woman. A woman who is in peril/incapacitated/all swoony and crap. There are lots of pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. What is this about, exactly? I'm pretty sure it's the website you click on right before you go looking for ones about rape fantasies. That's just the feeling I get.






What the haytch is this thing, the "Bloop," lumbering beneath the sea in a terrifying indeterminate slumber, making noises that naval technology can't make sense of? Is it Cthulhu? Is it a spaceship? Is it a gigantowhale? And listen to this official government recording of this almost immeasurably deep burble in the mysterious depths. Shudder.

Instantly Forgettable

Apparently I make quite a non-impression. Yesterday morning I ran across the street to the coffee shop for a quick bagel and cup of alertness. The cashier ran my credit card and informed me that it had expired, and it was all I had brought with me. "I need to run back to my office to take a call in three minutes," I said. "Would it be cool if I came back in about an hour to pay?"

A skeptical look from the cashier, as if he and his co-workers had just received a fax from the FBI alerting them to be on the lookout for the $3.95 scam artist. Suspect is approximately five feet, three and one half inches in height, with messy bedheaded red hair, wanted in six countries and most of the United States for the "oh, I forgot my money" bagel and espresso scam. Suspect is considered non-threatening and, in fact, quietly charming but should not be approached aggressively, as she will flee with as many baked goods as she can grab. You are advised to ask her for a baby- or dog-related favor (her greatest weakness) to keep her on site until the authorities arrive.

"I've lived right across the street for two years. I'm in here all the time." I smiled hopefully.

I knew this guy by name. We'd had friendly interactions dozens of times over the past 700 days as I'd tapped a thoughtful index finger to my chin while choosing between a chocolate croissant and an everything bagel. I've spent countless hours in this place, working on my laptop, chilling with the New York Times, hanging out with friends.

Then the cashier said "I've never seen you before."

I laughed, because I thought he was joking.

He wasn't. I looked at the girl next to him, who also has looked at my face and heard my voice dozens and dozens of times. "You remember me!"

No flicker of recognition.

Very Twilight Zone.

I know I don't have a big, loud, "look at me" personality or bearing, but what the heck? Am I seriously that forgettable?

Maybe I'm one of those aliens that Virginia Madson played on the "Unforgettable" episode of Star Trek: Voyager. You, know, this one: "Cmmdr. Chakotay falls in love with an alien (Virginia Madsen) who possesses a unique physiology - her pheromones wipe all memory of her presence from the mind of anyone she meets within twenty-four hours." This is going to make any kind of long-term relationship very difficult.

Sit Down Carefully, Sexy NASA, and Count Your Friends in Ireland with Harry

Chairs designed after children's drawings. Cute, sure. Overpriced? Definitely. Comfortable? Probably not. Also, Crayola-streaked blue skies and three-legged dogs not included.

NASA has always been squeamish about the topic that, let's face it, we're all curious about: Sex in Space. But they're starting to openly discuss it now. "How do you handle love, sex, romance, heartbreak, jealousy, hurt, unrequited longing, crushes, loneliness and twitterpation when you're 18 months away from Earth and perhaps unsure whether you'll make it back?" And more importantly, do boobs look perkier in zero g?

How many friends do you have? Not more than 150, according to Dunbar. "Dunbar's Number - a theoretical maximum number of individuals with whom a set of people can maintain a social relationship." Does this include blog friends, IM friends, Twitter friends, and other non-IRL friends? There's probably a different formula for that.

Hey, guys, I just got an exciting new part time job opportunity! Have you heard from David in Dublin, too? Maybe this doozy landed in your inbox this morning and you're already acting on it! "...However my funding were by my American counterparts who send me the bunch of payments mostly in US based money orders...assuming you would be able to deal with cash, I would be willing to employ you on contract basis to be my payment representative back in the states..." Yeah, it's the new Irish version of the Nigerian Money Order Scam! Nothing like a fresh twist on an old spam.

The real reason Prince Harry isn't going to Iraq, courtesy of the Rut. "Ha ha! Ging!" Has the Queen's army never heard of SPF 65? Geez.

Random Stories and Observations

Earlier I wrote a blog post about a Swedish sex shop exploding. Recently, a Swedish newscast was interrupted with an unexpected clip, over the shoulder of the news anchor, of some explicit you-know-what. That's so much more embarrassing than the weather blue screen malfunctioning, isn't it? Oh, those sexy Swedes.Why can't old dogs learn new tricks? It's not stubbornness. It's a protein.

Why are porn spams always so clumsily worded? One I got the other day featured this subject line: "Have all delights using this wonderful product!" Not just one or two delights, ALL of them. Do people who buy and use these sex-enhancing products end up yelling equally weird things at the peak of their fun? "Meet young willing grils noww!" "Hot pron whenever you want!" "Don't be sexually shy with this herb!"

Something I've noticed again and again lately as I attend more comedy shows: bartenders don't give much of a crap about people who prefer to drink diet pop or water when everyone else is drinking beer after beer.

Sometimes, they'll ignore you entirely, probably assuming that you're a cheap-ass who won't bother to tip them on a plastic cup of water, but, in my case, they're wrong. Here's a dollar. Gimme some water.

Man Dies When Hole Appears in Kitchen Floor

Feeling morbid? Want to drive yourself nuts thinking about all the ways you might die? Here's a new one: falling into a sinkhole that suddenly opens in your home, and dying before rescuers can reach you. It's a little bit "Donnie Darko," a little bit "Poltergeist."

A 27-year-old man plummeted into a gaping hole that suddenly opened beneath a house, trapping him beneath foundation rubble and killing him.

Authorities say the home, built in the 1980s, may have been sitting atop a decades-old underground mine. Recent rains could have softened the ground under the home, in an isolated area near Lake Alta.

"It's unbelievable," Placer County Sheriff's Department spokeswoman Dena Erwin said. "From the front of the house, it's absolutely normal. Then, in the middle of the house, is this enormous hole."
(Via CNN)

Man Smuggles Pork in Diaper

I love this headline for the words alone.

Sassy Acorn

Sassy Acorn. She is an actress. Hire her for her name alone.

Scamming For Morons

First, there was the finger-in-the-chili-at-Wendy's scam. So, your friend loses a finger in a work-related accident, and you're a slimy opportunist, and you spot a good chance to score some big dough (and then you get totally busted). Fine.

But intentionally swallowing glass so you can extort hotels and restaurants? Cuh-RAZY.

And then, faking a pregnancy with SIX babies to score free appliances and public sympathy? And expecting to be able to continue to get away with it? Extra, extra dumb.

Yet both happened.

Anyone feel like lighting themselves on fire and suing the smoke detector company? I've got matches!

Sometimes the Posts Need No Embellishment

A Salvadoran woman was detained after she tried to smuggle a military grenade and marijuana hidden in her vagina into the country's main prison, authorities said Wednesday.

(Via SFGate)

1420-Calorie Hamburger

Thanks, Hardees! You're helping make America's slide into immobilizing obesity and premature death even easier - and tastier!

(Hardee's) Monster Thickburger has 1,420 calories and 107 grams of fat. Overall, Hardee's offers five sandwiches with more than 1,000 calories.

"What's next — a pork chop on top?" CSPI senior nutritionist Jayne Hurley asked. "I'm always amazed — they can always go one step further than I can imagine."

As usual, Hardee's makes no apologies.

"We have salads on our menu, we have charbroiled chicken breast and a variety of low-carb options," Haley said. "But we don't see anything wrong with making the delicious, decadent burger available to people who want it.

(Via AP)

I'm sure little Sandhya in her barren hut in Bhopal would raise her arms and rejoice in the knowledge that our freedom affords us so many consumer choices. That is, if she had the strength to do so.

Skinny Japanese Kid, 100-Pound Woman Are World Competitive Eating Champions

From the Atlantic article "Horsemen of the Esophagus:"

"Ten years ago the image of the Virgin Mary
appeared on a grilled-cheese sandwich in the frying pan of Diana
Duyser, a Florida jewelry designer. Now She is here, in Venice Beach,
to preside over the World Grilled Cheese Eating Championship."

That competition was won by the fearsome Takera Kobayahi. But he didn't stop there. From the website for the International Federation of Competitive Eating:

From the Atlantic article "Horsemen of the Esophagus:"

"Ten years ago the image of the Virgin Mary
appeared on a grilled-cheese sandwich in the frying pan of Diana
Duyser, a Florida jewelry designer. Now She is here, in Venice Beach,
to preside over the World Grilled Cheese Eating Championship."

That competition was won by the fearsome Takera Kobayahi. But he didn't stop there. From the website for the International Federation of Competitive Eating: