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Spam:
This reminds me of something I wrote about several years ago. Back then my penchant for long-windedness was barely a year old, so I still had the energy to write way more than I needed to. That’s still true, but back then I was funnier so I have to dig in the archives for worthwhile posts. Here’s one now:
By Trevor Ryan
When I learned that members of Al Qaeda escaped from a prison in Yemen by tunneling out, I was immediately reminded of the massive tunnel recently discovered between the United State and Mexico. Then I was reminded of “The Shawshank Redemption.” Then I was distracted by hunger. Then I ate.
Perhaps the funniest part of the above-linked article from CNN.com is that they think the prisoners couldn’t have come up with the idea themselves.
The newly released report said the prisoners might have gotten the idea for the tunnel from a similar escape tunnel discovered last year at Camp Bucca, Iraq, where Iraqi detainees are being held by the U.S. military.
Yeah, ok people. Either that or from Bugs Bunny. But anyway …
After further contemplation, I began to get jealous. These days it seems that everyone has tunnels except for decent, warm-blooded citizens of the U.S. of A. This would include me, and while I don’t really want to dig a tunnel myself, I would sure like to reap the benefits of one. I don’t mean tunnels like the Lincoln Tunnel, or the Holland Tunnel, or subway tunnels, or any of those other public tunnels. What I’m after is of the clandestine sort, the likes of which only the bad guys seem to have.
The reason I want a tunnel of course has nothing to do with a desire to commit acts of terror, nor to smuggle people or anything else for that matter (maybe some knockoff designer jeans, but that’s it, I swear.) I just want a tunnel because it would make me feel secretive, exclusive, and girls would think, “This guy plays by his own rules.” I could use the tunnel to store cold drinks, or root crops, or to hide in whenever the world gets big and scary. This would also likely impress the ladies.
The point of this, since you’re probably wondering, is that I feel that the situation is unfair. How come I can buy a semiautomatic shotgun at K Mart, but I can’t have a secret underground tunnel? Why is this not in the Constitution? Why is the 3rd Amendment not “the right to barren tunnels.” Something like that. Or maybe it could rhyme, so it’s easy to remember. I’ll tell you why: because life is unfair. Why, I’ll be lucky if I get carpal tunnel.
plkdfpaksdfapslkdfasldkfa;sldkffaglkmasflgkmpscvjrg … still nothing.
I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry again.
From the people that brought us the U-2 comes a fancy-shmancy, all-new and way creepy new plane! This new plane is called the “Cormorant.” “Why?” you ask. Good question.
The answer to your good question is that this sucker will be launched from the missile tubes of submarines, float to the surface of the water, and then take off like some beautiful, yet callously murderous bird of prey. Or like some … curious … bird of watching stuff happen. See, it can also be a spy plane! This ability to launch from underwater is why it’s called the Cormorant in the first place. It is named (for you non-birders) for the aquatic bird of the same name. That’s about where the analogy ends.
The actual bird is not outfitted with Al Qaeda-hating missiles, which is why Lockheed had to make a fake one. Also, they can’t be flown by remote control, like the existing predator drone. They are really only good for fishing, and nets work better anyway. Long story short, while considerably more expensive than even the finest hand-raised cormorant (bird), the Cormorant (plane) is arguably more strategically useful.
On the other hand, the actual bird sends out more of a message of peace, and this might be the way we should be leaning anyway. If you give a man a fish, he will eat for a day. If you lend a man your cormorant, he could eat for, like, a week or something. It depends on how long it was leant for.
Maybe the Bush Administration is being a little too hasty when pursuing these wicked-awesome, but potentially deadly replacements for the (granted even more deadly) Trident missiles of the Cold War. But what if, just what if, we could make a dove-shaped plane that launches from those same missile tubes, and instead of dropping bombs, they drop … fish. Wouldn’t we all be a little better off? Wouldn’t we be the proverbial “bigger man”? Plus, we would kill off our enemies with the much more insidious mercury poisoning, over the course of several generations. Now that’s “a new kind of war.”
Shoes on Powerlines: This guy Robert that I know hates America’s obsession with rich bitches.
Holy shit! Did you hear where Jessica Simpson spent the night last night? Did you hear that Paris Hilton went to that one movie premiere? GASP! Did you see what Nicole Richie was wearing last night?
I’m familiar with all of these things thanks in part to a live-in girlfriend with a tabloid obsession but mostly because, like Robert says, it’s tough to avoid if you’re literate and frequent typical grocery stores. It’s out of control, for sure. Has the amount of interest in low-rent celebrities always been like this? Is reality TV to blame? I mean, talent has been completely lost among the myriad, complex criteria for celebrity status. And though it never really ranked above having a hot ass (because why should it?) it used to matter a little. Right?
The sooner people turn off the E! Channel and stop obsessing over every little detail of whatever Paris/Nicole/Jessica/etc. is doing, the better off we, as a society, will be.
Yet, pseudo-celebrity obsession is more likely a symptom of America’s idiocy, rather than a cause. Maybe it can even help if, say, around late October Jessica Simpson and Mischa Barton are caught on camera in the shower together. There are a couple reasons this would be good, not the least of which is the possibility that a good chunk of misinformed voters will forget to cast a ballot because they will be too busy reading Defamer.
Right now, I am sure that if Jessica Simpson and Nelson Mandela would die on the same day… Jessica Simpson would get bigger headlines in the United States.
Nelson Mandela? Oh that’s right — Mary Kate’s new boyfriend. Or is he dating Ashley?
By Trevor Ryan
Ok, so over a week has gone by since Dick Cheney shot that Judge friend of his. Wow! It’s even been more than a week since he told the public about it, too! Time really flies when you have birdshot next to your heart like I do. Well, as I imagine I do, because I think, deep down, that a part of all of us died last weekend. Did I say “died?” No, I mean got shot in the face and chest with birdshot and had it migrate (does anyone else think it’s funny that birdshot migrates, too?!) to that cozy place next to our hearts. But the thing is, I for one would like to see this sort of thing happen more often, since all parties handled it so well.
Judge what’s-his-face was a good sport about it, even apologizing to Cheney! What a sport! I love it. But now I’m crashing off that high that is the hilarious news of our second-in-command almost killing a Texas judge, and I want more. I just wish Cheney would shoot someone else. I don’t want it to be fatal or anything morbid like that. I just want some consistent amusement from my Vice President.
It will be sort of like when Quayle (not even gonna make a bird joke here) was in office, and we could always rely on something stupid coming out of his mouth. Well, Mr. Vice President, let me bounce this off ya: “An Afternoon With Cheney.” It’s an hour-long interview show where YOU, Dick Cheney, interview another member of the domestic or foreign power elite, discussing the inner workings of government and business, and how your guest fits into it all, and the tag ending is that you shoot them in the face with birdshot! Don’t answer now. Just sleep on it, chew on it, shoot it with your 12-guage. Do what you need to do. But give me a call. We’ll sit down, have lunch, and you can shoot me in the face. OH! Be thinking of catch phrases, like “It was a blast talking with you this hour. I’m your host, Dick Cheney” That’s still rough of course, but I want YOU to come up with whatever YOU feel is the most “Cheney.” Ok, great. Cool.
Ciao,
Trevor
