The best New Year’s resolution may be to just have none at all. That’s the wisdom for the upcoming New Year, according to 66-year-old Louis Krause of Flagstaff, Arizona.
“I can never live up to anyone else’s expectations, much less my own,” said Krause, in resignation. “I mean. what’s the point? I make a resolution to start doing things differently, and by February, I fuck that up somehow. I never follow through, so why bother?”
“That old fool will never change, no matter how much I get on his case,” said Lydia, Louis’ wife of 45 years. ”A few years back, he said he’d quit smoking. That lasted all of, what, two weeks? Look at him now, still firin’ up like a chimney. Last year he promised to get along better with people. But he still throws rocks at the traffic on our street and yells at those damn kids to stay the hell off our lawn. And for that, our house gets pelted with eggs and covered in toilet paper every Halloween, but does he care?”
“I decided I like my way of livin’ - why change it?,” added Louis. “If nobody else likes who I am, screw ‘em! This year, it’s gonna be different…I’m gonna stay the same. I’m keeping all my bad habits and I’ll continue to irritate everybody around me. How’s that for consistency? What’s the point of living if you don’t get the cops called on you once in a while? Now get off my goddamn property, ya’ little bastards!”
A year and a half after Senator Larry Craig (R-ID) was arrested for disorderly conduct for his…ahem…encounter in a public restroom stall at Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport, the bathroom is no longer the tourist attraction it once was. And local tourism people are not happy.
Just a year ago, the fabled restroom stall was a popular sightseeing destination for airport travelers with a twisted curiosity and a little extra time to kill before their flights. Hordes of men wanted to see for themselves the infamous crapper from where the Idaho Senator unwittingly hit on the undercover cop. In fact, so much traffic funneled into the site that a minor cottage industry sprung up in the previously empty wing of Concourse C. Officially dubbed the “Senator Larry Craig Executive Washroom,” the tawdry toilet drew over 5000 inquisitive visitors on a typical day. And that’s not counting those who came to actually use it. Don’t ask us how we know the difference.
New restaurants, coffee shops and even a souvenir stand opened up, all within 100 feet of the notorious washroom. People from all 50 states and over 30 countries have signed the official guestbook at the kiosk in front of the toe-tappin’ Senator’s favorite meeting spot. The publicity was a shot in the arm to the airport retail business.
“Before the story broke, we didn’t even have a Burger King in this part of the concourse. But now look at it,” said Knut Mikkelson, manager of The Wide Stance Gifts and Souvenirs. “We opened this shop two weeks after news of the bust made headlines, and for a while, we had people lining up halfway back to security waiting to buy stuff. Travelers would stop in to get posters or maybe a Larry Craig bobblehead doll, then head over to Starbuck’s for a latte. This area has hoppin.’ But now the traffic is down to a trickle and we need to get people interested in that shitter again.”
Officials at the Minneapolis Convention and Visitors Association are concerned that interest in the washroom is fading. A spokesman for the tourism group had tried to arrange for Sen. Craig to make a guest visit or two, but the repeated inquiries remained unanswered by the Senator’s staff.
“It would’ve been nice to have Senator Craig here at the airport to do a meet and greet, maybe sign some autographs,” said the unnamed Association spokesman. “Would’ve been a boon for business here. But apparently he no longer shares our enthusiasm for this lovely little washroom. I’m sure he’s moved on to some new favorite stalls elsewhere.”
Allen and Robyn Barrett had no idea what they held in their hands as they carried three framed paintings onto the set of Antiques Roadshow being taped at an auditorium in Orange County, California. One thing is certain: the paintings are basically worthless. What was found tucked away behind the dry mounting was another story.
“I told the wife we should bring them on the show, thinking it would really be something if they were valuable!,” said an excited Allen Barrett. “We bought these neat paintings from a vendor selling out of a van on a street corner in San Diego about two years back. We really loved the vivid colors and thought they would look good in the hallways of our home.”
Lynn Brock, an appraiser on the show, didn’t share the Barretts’ enthusiasm.
“These are not worth anything beyond their utilitarian value as tacky wall art,” said the snooty Brock. “They were likely painted by some kid in a Mexican sweatshop. I hope you didn’t pay too much for them.”
And I hope you don’t let any of your house guests actually see these hideous things hanging on your walls, Brock didn’t add.
As Brock picked up one of the paintings, she noticed that it made a strange grainy noise, the sort of sound an Etch-a-Sketch makes when you shake it.
“Mind if I pop the back off this one to have a look?,” inquired the curious Brock.
As she pulled the cheap cardboard away, a thin white wafer-like object wrapped in cling wrap fell out.
Brock’s jaw nearly dropped to the table as she motioned for the cameraman to stop taping. The “incident” quickly drew a crowd as people from all over the auditorium came by to look at the newly-discovered bounty. An off-duty police officer working security examined it up and said it was about 60 to 70 grams of high-grade cocaine. They tore into the other two paintings only to find identical packages stashed inside.
An hour later DEA officers were swarming the site, and after a lengthy interrogation, it was determined that the Barretts were merely innocent bystanders in the whole affair, and were allowed to leave.
“I’ve always wondered why those scary-looking people in Escalades were driving by our house all the time and following us around the past couple years,” said Robyn Barrett.
“Guess we won’t be on TV afterall,” was all the long-faced Allen Barrett could say as the couple shuffled out toward the parking lot.
Throngs of people surged into a Wal-Mart store in Hagerstown, Maryland, early in the morning after Christmas, trying to return unwanted gifts. Employees unlocked the front doors of the store at 6:00 A.M. on “returns day” only to be inundated by a massive crowd that had assembled outside. More than 900 people quickly mobbed the store’s service counter in an event that both overwhelmed and frightened store workers. Local police were summoned to help direct traffic and control crowds which were, for the most part, relatively peaceful. Fortunately, no injuries were reported in the fracas, which is in stark contrast to the fatal trampling incident that marred a Black Friday opening at a New York Wal-Mart last month.
Some customers had to wait in line as long as 3 hours before reaching the returns counter. In response to the overwhelming demand, store managers hastily reassigned checkout clerks and stock room employees to help out at the counter. Only two checkout lanes remained open, and those saw very little purchasing activity during the day.
Customers were enthusiastic about their exchanges.
“My dad gave me this diamond solitaire pendant,” exclaimed one unidentified young woman. “Giving me the receipt along with it was the greatest Christmas present ever, as I’ll be able to get 850 dollars back. Thanks, daddy…you’re the greatest!”
“I just got a Nano 4G from my big sister in Cleveland…now I have three of them,” said a teenage boy who was standing patiently in line. “I have receipts for two of the Nanos, so here I am. I can use the money for a new iPhone and maybe enough left over for a few games.”
While a few customers without receipts had to settle for credit checks, the vast majority brought in items to obtain cash back. Store management had called in three armored trucks during the day to replenish cash reserves at the counter. By the end of the day, the Hagerstown Wal-Mart showed a negative cash flow of nearly $230,000.
“This has been a successful day-after-Christmas,” said a beaming store manager. “Usually we pull in 150K, maybe 180K worth of returned merchandise on a December 26th. This was our best returns day ever in the 11 years the Hagerstown store has been in business. People know they can count on coming to Wal-Mart to return the things they don’t like.”
Demonstrating that people’s bodies can be green too, a Beverly Hills cosmetic surgeon is actually doing something for the environment. Dr. Alan Bittner performs a lot of liposuction operations on his plump patients - so many in fact that he is able to save the removed fatty material and use it as a biofuel for his car. While Bittner won’t disclose how he converts the human fat into fuel (and we probably don’t want to know anyway), suffice it to say that he is now able to run his BMW E60 sedan entirely without fossil fuel.
In a promotion called “Biodiesel is People!,” the good doctor has encouraged so many overweight patients to come in for lipo operations that he must now store the “lipofuel” in a 500 gallon above-ground tank behind the doctor’s office.
Bittner wonders why more cosmetic surgeons don’t do the same.
“Lipofuel could be a good thing for the country,” said Bittner. “If every obese American went in for lipo treatment, we would have a trimmer, more healthy population, and we would become less dependent on foreign oil. No need for more oil drilling. We should be drilling into some the world’s fatties instead.”
“Just the other day, two really large women came in for treatment,” added the doctor. “From that procedure alone I was able to drive up to Santa Maria to visit my sister. I still had a quarter tank when I got back home. The tailpipe emissions from lipofuel are minimal, giving off mostly water vapor, carbon dioxide and a faint odor somewhat reminiscent of pork rinds.”
But Bittner’s medical practice isn’t without its critics.
“That is soooo incredibly gross,” said Dr. Michael Brunsz, ethics spokesman for the California Medical Association. “I mean, running your car on human body fat…ewwww! But as far as we can tell, no laws are being broken here.”
Bittner isn’t swayed by his critics.
“It’s not like we’re being morbid, selling body parts or something,” argued the plastic surgeon. “The fatty substance we suck out of people is just ordinary medical waste that we otherwise dispose of in an incinerator…hey, wait a minute, I just thought of something…I…I could heat this place with it too! Hot damn! The uses of lipofuel are endless!”
We have fair amount of autonomy at AITS, and Norm lets us “freelance” a lot. He encourages us to scour the Internet for interesting things, even if some of those things become, well, a bit habit-forming. In other words, we get to screw off on the Internet and get paid for it. We thought it would be nice to let you in on some of the cool things we discover by highlighting them from time to time. Besides, sometimes we’re just too lazy or uninspired to write a real article.
This week we’re giving a hearty AITS shout-out to FAT-PIE.COM, a collection of flash animations and stuff by David Firth. Includes goodies like Burnt Face Man, Spoilsbury Toast Boy, and our favorite, Salad Fingers. This site has been on our blogroll for quite some time and is a favorite of all of us here. Highly recommended.
These cartoons are very dark and definitely NOT SAFE FOR WORK, which is why we like them. The people around you may not. So if the boss catches you watching them at the office, don’t say we didn’t warn you. We don’t want to hear your whining, “B-b-b-b-but you said these were good and da boss busted me and fired my ass,” or something like that. We’re not responsible for the stupid shit you do in public.
Tina found this on YouTube. It’s a bunch of people hitting small home-made bombs with sledgehammers, somewhere in Latin America, we think. She forwarded the link to Norm, and after watching it about 6 times Norm slithered out of his office with the most devilish grin.
“We might have to see what’s in the AITS travel budget this year. A great company trip awaits us.”
No disagreements from us. If there is but one event we make it to in 2009, this has to be it. Anything that combines explosives with hammers can’t be all bad. We absolutely must find out when and where, and make our travel plans.
A Jacksonville, Florida, church has announced its plans to publicize the names and personal information of women in the community it deems as “immoral.” Leaders at Grace Community Church will be posting the information on its website in an attempt to publicly humiliate women who do not embrace the moral standards held by the church.
At a press conference yesterday, Dr. T. Scott Christmas (no shit - we’re not making this up), head pastor at the fundamentalist evangelical church, stated, “it is our duty under God to reveal all whores, harlots and floozies for all the world to witness.”
When asked further about the church’s plan, Christmas replied, “I guess they won’t let us burn these fornicators at the stake or lash them with a cat-o-nine-tails anymore, so this punishment will have to do. However our attorneys are looking into the legality of tying a few of them to a post for a while in the town square.”
Members of Grace Community Church are ecstatic over the proposal.
“Me and the boys was gonna pay a visit to a few of them wenches and teach ‘em a lesson,” exclaimed Billy Bob Martin, one of the church deacons. “But showing up on their front yards with torches and pitchforks is kinda old-school. Plastering their personal information all over the Internet is the modern way and will get a bigger audience. That oughta fix ‘em.”
The targets of the church’s scorn are not pleased.
“Why can’t those fundie bastards stick with the usual stuff like speaking in tongues, faith healing and playing with poisonous snakes?,” said an unidentified 30-something woman whose only “offense” seems to have been spending a few nights at her boyfriend’s apartment. “Leave my private life out of it.”
The Church’s pastor scoffs at the idea of “privacy,” stating that police departments post photos of prostitutes, drug dealers and sex offenders all the time on the Internet. “These girls are no different.”
“There is no privacy in the eyes of the Lord. He sees everything…and so should everybody else. We’re just following His will,” added Christmas. “It’s for their own good - we’re doing these wayward souls a favor. Think of it as our Christmas gift to all of them, pardon the pun.”
Norm kicked off the holiday season today by handing out gift certificates. Each redeemable for a frozen turkey from a store down the street that was cited by the health department three times in the past year for rat infestation. “Happy holidays, you boneheads!” Always a generous and thoughtful sentiment from the boss.
Maynard: “Aren’t we having a party?”
“Bad idea,” said Tina. “Norm’s not renowned for his event-planning skills. I seem to remember a really long drive out to the middle of methlab-land for the last one. You were there, Maynard. Forgot already what a shitty time we all had on Halloween?”
“Alright you ingrates, leave the holiday party planning to me,” said an over-confident Norm as he popped his head out his office door. “This will be one to remember.”
“Remember?…yeah fuck. I’m still trying to get over remembering the last one - that lame Halloween party,” taunted Gordy. “Are you looking forward to tormenting us again?”
“No, this will be much better, and much closer, more accessible,” assured Norm as he rolled into the newsroom on his office chair. “Trust me, you’ll love this place. This Friday night right after work. Invite your family or a few friends - booze and eats on me. And no driving.”
Our first annual holiday party was to be held at a local pool hall and beer tavern, just a few blocks from AITS headquarters. Great idea, Norm. We can walk there after work and stagger back to crash in the office. Seriously. This could actually work.
Friday afternoon came, and we all vacated the premises around 5, then walked over to our party spot at the pool hall. Actually, the back “meeting room” of said pool hall, which was now the store room where extra chairs, empty kegs, etc., were stacked along the walls. They set up a few folding tables and chairs for us, and hung a string of paper Chinese lanterns from the ceiling for decoration. The room was cheap to rent, there was plenty of space for all of us, and the owner of the joint didn’t have to worry about us interfering with the regular customers in the front. But at least we had our own place to hang and didn’t have to drive 85 miles to get to it.
We started off the evening with beer and “catered” food. Catered, in the sense that Norm merely had someone drop by with 100 White Castle burgers, which we quickly devoured and chased down with Bud. Norm probably bartered AITS advertising for beer and food, being the cheap bastard that he is.
The night’s entertainment showed up around seven. Two terminally dorky-looking guys who were likely rejects from the drama department of a local community college. They came in, almost tripped over one of the chairs, and proceeded to set up a portable karaoke machine. None of us wanted to partake in this of course, so it was just Dork#1 and Dork#2 at the mike doing a singalong with Rod Stewart. Who says tone-deaf people can’t have fun playing with Mr. Microphone? It was amusing to watch - at least for the first few songs. By eight o’clock our ears started to hurt and Gordy gave 20 bucks in bribe money to each of the American Idol wannabes if they would leave early. Like right fucking now.
“Where’d the singers go?” asked Norm as he came back from the men’s room.
“I think they had dates or something and had to go,” said Gordy, trying his best to hold back the inevitable laughter.
More people rolled in. Maynard’s little brother, then a couple of Gordy’s friends in town from Texas - Liz and Erica. Tina’s best friend from college showed up with a bottle of cheap champaign. Then Maynard’s mom walked in (cougar alert!), looking like she had a good head start on the sauce.
We were finally able to get our faces into some serious sauce, as Norm broke out the “good stuff.” No shit, it was a corrugated box filled with dozens of those little airline bottles of booze. All kinds. Norm dumped them out on one of the tables and announced “everybody have at it!” Norm gets those from a friend at one of the airlines, we think. Did we mention that Norm is a cheap bastard?
Noticing a lack of tunes, Liz brought in her iPod and a pair of small speakers, so we were back in business. A smooth mix of techno and acid trance filled the room while we were pouring down those little bottles of liquor almost as fast as we could pick them up.
Everyone was getting rather shitfaced. Maynard disappeared out back for quite some time with Liz, while the Erika was hanging on Gordy. Not so much out of affection, but to keep from falling down. Maynard’s mom was all over Norm, much to our amusement. Norm didn’t appear to be enjoying himself. That guy needs to loosen up a bit. Having a go with that randy old drunk just might do him some good.
Eventually the party wound down, and all those little liquor bottles were finally emptied. Maynard and Liz were trying unsuccessfully to stack them into a big pyramid on the table, and giggling uncontrollably every time the stack tumbled down.
We closed up, thanked the pool hall manager, and staggered down the street, back to AITS headquarters to sleep it off. We all must’ve been a real sight stumbling along the sidewalk drunk off our asses and holding on to one another, trying our best not to fall down in the hard-packed snow and patchy ice, and failing miserably at that.
“I get dibs on the couch,” said Norm. “I’m used to sleeping on that. The rest of you will just have to find a place on the floor to crash.”
And crash, we did. Everybody was asleep within five minutes. Amazingly, nobody threw up after our boozy escapade. The next morning found every one of the AITS staffers sprawled about in the office. And a few guests too. Some people we didn’t even know who apparently followed us in. On the floor, in chairs, under desks. Everyone was up by about ten, after Bug the Cat started climbing on people and howling because there wasn’t any food left in his bowl. Let’s feed the cat and see if we can get Maynard to make a coffee and doughnut run. There might be some beer in the fridge.
Then the door opens and in walks Norm’s mom, dropping by to check out our humble little dump for the very first time. If you think Norm yells a lot, you really ought to hear this woman caterwauling, with a voice like a train hitting the brakes. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Our day went downhill from there.
With the recount still in progress six weeks after the election and no clear winner in sight, the two candidates vying for the Minnesota Senate seat have agreed to decisively resolve the issue among themselves.
Weary from all the media attention and tedious ballot challenges, incumbent Senator Norm Coleman has offered his opponent, Al Franken, a way to quickly declare a winner. On New Year’s Eve, the two candidates will engage in a sudden-death, winner-takes-all wrestling match at a St. Paul VFW club.
While wrestling isn’t normally associated with political contests, there appears to be no prohibition against it in Minnesota election rules.
Mark Ritchie, Minnesota’s Secretary of State, is giving his thumbs-up. “It’s a bit unorthodox, mind you. However, either candidate is free to concede defeat at any time, so why not add some entertainment value to the decision? It’ll be fun, and I’ve got ringside seats.”
The first contestant to pin the other will be declared the winner and will fill the Senate seat in January.
Franken is pumped up for the match. “When Norm offered up his plan, I jumped on it,” said the former comedian and Saturday Night Live star. “I know I can pin that little neocon. Doggone it, I can win this!”
Coleman is determined to hang on to his Senate seat and is in training for the upcoming event. “All I have to do is get him down on the mat long enough for the ref to call it,” said Coleman. “I don’t know why we didn’t think to do this sort of thing back in October after the debates. I could’ve pulled off a bunch more votes and we wouldn’t be in this recount mess. After all, this is the state that elected Jesse Ventura governor. People love this stuff in Minnesota.”
The match will begin at 9:00 P.M. CT, December 31, and will be televised on local stations. It will also be shown nationwide on C-SPAN. Check your local listings.
Forbes has just published results of its latest survey ranking states based on the gullibility of their residents. The non-scientific telephone survey contacted over 6500 people across all 50 states and the District of Columbia, and compiled data of participants’ habits and beliefs. The survey then tabulated the data into a Relative Gullibility Index (RGI) for each locale.
The survey found that the most gullible state is Vermont, followed by several rural states in the Midwest and Great Plains regions, such as Iowa, Indiana, Kansas and Wisconsin.
Analysts attribute this high gullibility factor to the habit of people in rural areas to do irrational things like leaving their front doors unlocked, striking up conversations with complete strangers in public, participating in lotteries and sweepstakes, giving rides to hitchhikers, and a willingness to simply hand over sensitive personal data without question to just about anyone who asks.
The survey asked some specific questions of participants, such as “Have you ever replied to an unsolicited email business offer?”, “Have you ever been treated poorly by someone but are still willing to do that person favors when asked?”, and “Do you send money to televangelists?”
Not surprisingly, urban East Coast states like New York, Connecticut and New Jersey ranked at the bottom of the gullibility scale, with the Empire State coming in the lowest at #51. Massachusetts and the District of Columbia joined NY, CT and NJ to round out the bottom five.
Also not surprising is the fact that Forbes researchers had to call a proportionately larger number of people in those eastern states just to obtain a statistically valid sample, as many of the people in those states refused to participate in the survey. A few recipients of calls shouted obscenities before hanging up.
In contrast, every person called in Vermont cooperated fully in the canvassing, with one even offering to “send some homemade molasses cookies to that nice young man for being so polite on the telephone.”
Forbes plans to offer for sale detailed, county-by-county gullibility survey results, which will likely become a useful business and recruiting tool for car dealers, direct marketers, fundraising organizations, spammers, and religious groups.
A 29-year-old man posing as a 15-year-old entered in a high school spelling bee, making it all the way to the semifinals before finally being caught. Jack Ellerberg, a crane operator for a construction company in Peoria, Illinois, entered the contest after being egged on by fellow construction workers.
“The boys at work are always fuckin’ with me about my vocabulary, saying I should ‘put up or shut up,’ actually use some of those big words and compete in a tournament,” said Ellerberg. “And since I look kinda young for my age, I thought ‘what the fuck?’ So I shaved and bought one of those dorky v-neck sweaters that those pussy bookworm kids wear and it was off to Peoria High School.”
Posing as a new kid from out of town, Ellerberg breezed through the tryouts and the first two rounds of the bee that Saturday morning, which was broadcast on a local cable channel.
“The first round was fuckin’ cake,” boasted Ellerberg. “Words like ‘proclivity,’ ‘catenary’ and ‘indefensible.’ I was cuttin’ through those like a goddamn knife through butter, dude! Then we were down to 16 contestants and the second round turned up the heat. I aced ‘demarche,’ ‘homeostasis’ and ‘eviscerate.’ I was fucking smokin,’ man.”
“But I screwed the pooch in the semifinals,” admitted Ellerberg. “I was up at the podium and they hit me with ’siliciferous.’ The letters started to roll off my tongue: ‘S-I-L-I-C…uh…Y?’ and then the error buzzer sounded. I blurted out my dismay, ‘Fuck me to tears!, it should’ve been I not Y!’”
“The judges gave me the evil eye for tossing out the F-bomb,” Ellerberg continued. “You should’ve seen the looks on the faces of those nerdy kids. I thought a few of ‘em were going to piss their pants! That’s some funny shit right there!”
Then all of a sudden, one of the high school teachers jumped up out of his seat in the audience, pointed at Ellerberg and shouted, “Hey! that guy’s not a student! I had that little creep in my social studies class back in ‘94! Get him outta here!”
“Aw snap, I was busted,” said Ellerberg as he walked off the stage. “Bastard. But I have to admit, it was fuckin’ hilarious while it lasted. I owned those motherfuckers for a while.”
Since no crime was committed, the only thing that school authorities could do was escort Ellerberg to the door.
“Wait ’til I go back to work Monday,” said Ellerberg with a devilish grin. “Those fuckers aren’t going to believe this shit. But I have video.”
Notwithstanding the fact that it was created by a college professor more than 25 years ago and has been in popular use since, a Russian man has successfully obtained a registered trademark for the smiley emoticon. Oleg Teterin, an advertising executive in Moscow, announced the Russian trademark today, and has high hopes for monetizing its already widespread use on the Internet, in email and text-messaging systems. The trademark covers both the smiley :-), and the winky-smiley ;-) emoticons. Legal experts have not made an opinion as to whether the trademark would also include versions without the hyphen.
“No one else bothered to register the emoticon before,” said Teterin. “If I’m the first to legally lay claim to it, then too bad for everybody else. Wanna use it? Pay up.”
Russian Internet companies are nervous. “This could really impact our bottom line,” said an unnamed representative of a major Internet services provider. “We could be on the hook every time some user types in an emoticon in an email or text message. We have sent notices to all of our customers asking them to stop using the emoticons in order to help keep our prices down. So far, it seems to be working, as there has been a 65% drop in their use.”
But Teterin says not to worry. “We’ll be selling annual licenses for the use of our emoticons. It depends on the size of the company, but typically just a few hundred thousand a year for a major ISP, and you’re covered for unlimited smiley use by all of your customers. Individuals can buy licenses for as low as $20 a month, and we take PayPal.”
The trademark protection only applies in the Russian Federation, but any foreign company whose net traffic is directed toward Russia or who does business there could be subject to the fees. Not surprisingly, major Internet companies worldwide - especially search engines - are alarmed. Google, Yahoo, MSN and AOL are all mobilizing their legal departments to size up the impact of this.
Teterin has warned Internet users to “do the right thing” and buy a license. He plans to monitor net traffic and possibly launch RIAA-style settlement demands against those caught unlawfully using the emoticons.
“You can do it the easy way, or you can do it the hard way. But either way, you’re gonna pay,” said a confident Teterin.
As part of his whirlwind Middle east tour, President Bush dropped in for a surprise visit to a DSW outlet store in central Baghdad yesterday. Things quickly went south from there.
Shortly after noticing the U.S. President and his entourage walking into the store, dozens of angry shoppers began throwing shoes at Bush, apparently outraged over the disruption to their shopping experience.
The altercation began when Bush spotted a nice pair of black Gucci wingtips on the rack and instructed one of his Secret Service agents to pick them up to purchase. Apparently, someone else was in the market for some fine footwear that day.
“I had my eye on those lovely shoes to buy for my husband,” said Eleeza El Duchari. “I had saved for months to buy them and it was the last pair in the store. Then those American swine came in and scooped them up right before my eyes. I got mad and started hurling loafers at him.”
Within seconds, nearly every shopper was in on the action, lobbing footwear at the President and his agents. Practically every shoe in the store became a projectile, as angry shoppers and store employees chanted “Death to America!” at the U.S. delegation.
Amazingly, neither President Bush nor any members of his Secret Service detail were hurt in the fracas. Agents quickly whisked the President out of the store and into an awaiting Humvee.
Back in the U.S., officials at DSW had little comment regarding the incident in Baghdad, other than to state that “we are distressed to hear of this incident. Things like this usually don’t happen in our stores. We’ll look into it.”
President Bush was relieved that the incident hadn’t turned out worse, but in good spirits about the whole ordeal. “We’re headed for Afghanistan tomorrow,” said the President. “I don’t think we’ll be doing any shopping in Kabul, he he.”
An Indiana woman was baffled over the fact that her car made strange noises every time she started it. When Hope Wideup (no shit, we’re not making up this name) pulled over and popped open the hood to see what the problem was, she was shocked to find a chipmunk inside, stashing hundreds of walnuts on top of the engine and building a nest. The chipmunk was shocked to see her too.
Wideup had no choice but to evict the pesky rodent and its winter food supply, as she was getting tired of constantly leaving a trail of nuts everywhere she went. However, things worked out for the best, as she adopted the furry little critter and now keeps it as a pet in her trailer house in Demotte, Indiana.
We love cute animal stories with happy endings. Makes us feel all warm and fuzzy.