No words needed:
Earl has been too busy to blog here lately, but he did pass on to me something wonderfully funny that he heard on the radio. (And yes, I am encouraging Earl to use up as much of his free time as he likes to write wonderful posts here.)
Without further ado, this, from Earl:
Before Obamacare became law, Nancy Pelosi famously said “We’ll have to pass it to see what’s in it” – check YouTube if you doubt.
This afternoon, someone called Lars Larson’s show and said he’d been thinking about that quote for a while, and it had finally hit him: “That’s not a bill….that’s a stool sample.”
I thought Lars was going to lose it…when he could speak, he told the caller “You’ve skated RIGHT up to the line of what gets by on this show — thanks so much for your input, and I’m going to remember that for the next time I talk to a promoter of the law!”
Everyone should have such a pleasant experience when coming out of anesthesia:
When I got my first corgi, back in 1974, few Americans had ever seen the dog that was the Queen of England’s favorite breed. People would often come up to me and ask if my dog was a Sheltie with a genetic defect. One excited little girl thought I had a rabbit on a leash.
How times have changed, as this corgi homage video shows:
My friend the Anchoress has gone on a temporary retreat from offering astute political commentary about the woes of the world. Instead, she introduces to the singing, dancing, seductive, USB cigarette lighter named Jii. I can assure you that you will feel better for having watched this video. Hai!
I am still laughing:
I don’t watch much TV, and I don’t watch any daytime TV. I have a hazy impression, though, that daytime TV commercials always include a perfect racial diversity (of the same type seen in text books), and are concerned with diet, beauty, and birth control. I’m not the only one who has that sense:
The one thing you can count on with Progressives is that anything that happens in Washington, D.C. — any legislation, any election, and any legal decision — is a reason to go out and beg for money. Within hours of the Supreme Court decision that effectively strikes down Prop. 8, making gay marriage legal in California, a group called “Courage Campaign” sent out an email begging for money and, in the process, created one of the funniest inadvertent puns I’ve seen in a long time:
If you haven’t caught what makes it so funny, here’s a hint: read the very first line aloud:
Hat tip: Sadie
I dress in drab clothes and have a passion for wild socks. Apparently I am not alone:
I somehow managed to miss MadTV entirely. That’s why it took my children to introduce me to these skits that perfectly spoof Spanish-language soap operas:
Tom Elia, who blogs at The New Editor, sent me a wonderful joke:
When Barack Obama met with Queen Elizabeth II, the Queen of England, he asked her . . .
“Your Majesty, how do you run such an efficient government? Are there any tips you can give me?”
“Well,” said the Queen, “The most important thing is to surround yourself with intelligent people.”
Obama frowned, and then asked, “But how do I know if the people around me are really intelligent?”
The Queen took a sip of champagne.
“Oh, that’s easy; you just ask them to answer an intelligent riddle, watch.”
The Queen pushed a button on her intercom. “Please send Tony Blair in here, would you?”
Tony Blair walked into the room and said, “Yes, your Majesty?”
The Queen smiled and said, “Answer me this please Tony. Your mother and father have a child. It is not your brother and it is not your sister. Who is it?”
Without pausing for a moment, Tony Blair answered… “That would be me.”
“Yes! Very good.” said the Queen.
Obama went back home to ask Joe Biden the same question.
“Joe, answer this for me. Your mother and your father have a child. It’s not your brother and it’s not your sister. Who is it?”
“I’m not sure,” said Biden. “Let me get back to you on that one.”
He went to his advisors and asked everyone, but none could give him an answer.
Frustrated, Biden went to work in congressional gym and saw Paul Ryan there.
Biden went up to him and asked, “Hey Paul, see if you can answer this question.”
“Your mother and father have a child and it’s not your brother or your sister. Who is it?”
Paul Ryan answered, “That’s easy, it’s me!”
Biden smiled, and said, “Good answer Paul!”
Biden then, went back to speak with President Obama.
“Say, I did some research and I have the answer to that riddle. It’s Paul Ryan!”
Obama got up, stomped over to Biden, and angrily yelled into his face, “No! You idiot! It’s Tony Blair!”
. . . AND THAT MY FRIENDS IS PRECISELY WHAT’S GOING ON AT THE WHITE HOUSE
Ace found a marvelous picture from today’s ceremony for the opening of the George W. Bush Presidential Library. His post caption is perfect: “I Don’t Know The Backstory and I’m Content Not To.”
I agree with him, but I also think I picture like this demands a caption. What were they looking at? What did they just hear? What are they saying? You all are some of the wittiest people I know. I just have to open this one up to you.
This little girl is going to rule the world one day — politely, too. And she’ll do it in a way that’s premised on personal responsibility and self-reliance — provided, of course, that her parents keep her away from the corrupting influence of Leftist public schools.
It’s been an endlessly slow process, but I no longer hate Carly Rae Jepsen’s Call Me Maybe. This video sealed the deal, because it’s got something for everyone. Put it on full screen viewing so that, if you like the guys, you can keep your eye on the upper left hand side of the screen, and if you like the gals (in this case, Miami Dolphins cheerleaders), you can watch the lower right hand side of the screen. Put together, the eye candy is surprisingly charming:
Courtesy of Earl:
A Wisconsin farmer named Ole had a car accident. He was hit by a truck owned by the Eversweet Company, a Harley Westover Company.
In court, the Eversweet Company’s hot-shot attorney questioned him thusly:
‘Didn’t you say to the state trooper at the scene of the accident, ‘I’m fine?”
Ole responded: ‘vell, I’lla tell you vat happened dere. I’d yust loaded my fav’rit cow, Bessie, into da… ‘
‘I didn’t ask for any details’, the lawyer interrupted. ‘Just answer the question. Did you not say, at the scene of the accident, ‘I’m fine!’?’
Ole said, ‘vell, I’d yust got Bessie into da trailer and I vas drivin’ down da road…. ‘
The lawyer interrupted again and said, ‘Your Honor, I am trying to establish the fact that, at the scene of the accident, this man told the police on the scene that he was fine. Now several weeks after the accident, he is trying to sue my client. I believe he is a fraud. Please tell him to simply answer the question.’
By this time, the Judge was fairly interested in Ole’s answer and said to the attorney: ‘I’d like to hear what he has to say about his favorite cow, Bessie’.
Ole said: ‘Tank you’ and proceeded. ‘vell as I vas saying, I had yust loaded Bessie, my fav’rit cow, into de trailer and was drivin’ her down de road vin dis huge Eversweet truck and trailer came tundering tru a stop sign and hit my trailer right in da side by golly. I was trown into one ditch and Bessie was trown into da udder ditch.
By yimminy yahosaphat I vas hurt, purty durn bad, and didn’t want to move. An even vurse dan dat,, I could hear old Bessie a moanin’ and a groanin’. I knew she vas in terrible pain yust by her groans.
Shortly after da accident, a policeman on a motorbike showed up. He could hear Bessie a moanin’ and a groanin’ too, so he vent over to her. After he looked at her, and saw her condition, he took out his gun and shot her right between the eyes.
Den da policeman came across de road, gun still in hand, looked at me, and said, ‘How are you feelin’?’
‘Now wot da fock vud you say?’
I received this fascinating, back-story email from a friend. Please read it through to the end, as it includes an important summation:
Jorge Mario Bergoglio was not the Cardinals’ first choice to be the new pope, and to become Pope Francis. Their first choice was, interestingly, Cardinal Hans Grapje.
Grapje was raised in a Catholic school in The Hague and, as a young man, aspired to become a priest, but was drafted into the Army during WWII and spent two years co-piloting bombers until his aircraft was shot down in 1943 and he lost his left arm. Captain Grapje spent the rest of the war as a chaplain, giving spiritual aid to soldiers, both Allied and enemy.
After the war, he became a priest, serving as a missionary in Africa, piloting his own plane (in spite of his handicap) to villages across the continent. In 1997, Father Grapje was serving in Zimbabwe when an explosion in a silver mine caused a cave-in. Archbishop Grapje went down into the mine to administer last rights to those too severely injured to move. Another shaft collapsed, and he was buried for three days, suffering multiple injuries, including the loss of his right eye. The high silver content in the mine’s air gave him purpura, a life-long condition characterized by purplish skin blotches.
Although Cardinal Grapje devoted his life to the service of God as a scholar, mentor, and holy man, church leaders felt that he should never ascend to the Papacy. They felt that the Church would never accept a one-eyed, one-armed, flying purple Papal leader.
This one needs no introduction:
This one is for both cat lovers and cat haters:
It also makes you realize how perfectly the young man in this video captured a cat’s personality:
I know this isn’t my usual blog fare, but I had so much fun writing up this story at Mr. Conservative that I’m reprinting it here in its entirety:
When Carlos Romero was tried in Marion County, Florida, for having sex with a donkey, he mounted an unusual defense: It’s unconstitutional to ban donkey love or, indeed, to ban any sexual relationships between humans and animals. Carlos eventually plea bargained his claim, although he still plans to appeal the judgment holding that his conduct was illegal.
It all started when Carlos was caught last August in a compromising position with a female miniature donkey named Doodle. (Doodle was, apparently, a very pretty donkey.) The state charged him with sexual activities involving animals, a first-degree misdemeanor. Rather than copping a deal after copping a donkey feel, Carlos insisted upon going to trial in order to defend his constitutional right to have sex with animals.
Further, said the lawyers, “By making sexual conduct with an animal a crime, the statute demeans individuals like Defendant (Romero) by making his private sexual conduct a crime.”
Carlos’ enthusiastic defense counsel didn’t stop there. In case Carlos’ privacy rights weren’t enough to make a constitutional argument, the attorneys also argued that the statute was deficient in that the state was not required to prove either that the animal was injured or that it did not consent. “Therefore, the only possible rational basis for the statute is a moral objection to sexual acts considered deviant or downright ‘disgusting,’?”
(The lawyers really weren’t thinking when they made that argument. Florida’s anti-bestiality statute is the animal equivalent of statutory rape laws, which also do not rest upon the absence of injury or the presence of consent. The law presumes that children are injured when an adult has sex with them and it also states that children cannot legally give consent. Same goes for animals.)
Despite the intellectual and legal weakness of their arguments, Carlos’ attorneys were on a role:
The personal morals of the majority, whether based on religion or traditions, cannot be used as a reason to deprive a person of their personal liberties. If the statute were to require sexual conduct with animals to be nonconsensual or to cause injury in order to be a crime, then perhaps the State would have a rational basis and legitimate state interest in enforcement.
The classification of zoophilic acts as first-degree misdemeanors is grossly out of proportion to the severity of zoophilic acts.
One has to admire the zeal Carlos’ attorneys showed when they afforded Carlos’ his constitutional right to an attorney. He is a most unappealing character. According to the Gainesville Sun,
Romero admitted that he gets sexually aroused around animals more so than humans and allegedly masturbated with Doodle in his room. He claimed that he would have had sex with the miniature donkey eventually, but that she wasn’t ready and was “blooming into maturity.”
“Blooming into maturity?” Funnily enough, that’s exactly what pedophiles say when they groom their child victims for rape, both statutory and otherwise.
On December 14, Carlos Romero pleaded no contest and was sentenced to a year of probation, including psychiatric counseling, testing for STDs, and a prohibition against getting anywhere near children. Probation rather than jail was important to him, Carlos said, because it would have been difficult to mount an appeal challenging the law if he had been sent to jail.
Carlos’ promised appeal means that there is still some likelihood that the Supreme Court will one day have to decide whether states may criminalize bestiality. Insurers already struggling with the increased costs resulting from ObamaCare may discover that there’s a whole new class of federal rules controlling medical and veterinary insurance coverage for mixed-species marriages.