Ladies and Gentlemen, The President of the United States. Canada Here I Come

White House Social – Turtle from Entourage

After watching two full seasons of Entourage, I’m ready to nominate Turtle to this newly created position that I think would be vital to the smoothness with which I was able to run the country. In an effort to show the people that the White House is a place of love and peace, it would behoove my administration to throw lavish dinner parties and orgies for my esteemed guests from the world community. I picture Jordanian president Abdullah II and South Korean Maniac and film star Kim Jong Il hitting the mini-bar while a honey rubs them up and down. Now that my friends, is building international relations. You feelin’ me? Hell, I’ll even look the other way while Colombian President Velez blows lines off of Canadian Prime Minister Paul Martin’s wife’s ass. I figure a) Canada’s not a friend, not a threat b) she’s got a hot ass and c) hey, isn’t that Paul Martin over there in the corner slipping my intern a roofie? Why yes it is! As long as we’re all getting along, all is good in the world."

Hmm, maybe, it's time I took a trip to see our neighbors to the North.

Question: Does the First Lady there give tours of the PM's residence?

The Official God FAQ

Question: "Is there a God?"

Answer: "No."

Okay, okay, you don't have be so frickin' snippy. I was just asking.

So.

Is there a Jesus?

Several Recruits Were Heard to Say, "Please" and "Thank You," Too

Greek Cypriot soldiers involved in a wild sex party at a guard post on the divided Mediterranean islands Green Line were banished to remote corners of the country as punishment.

Politics daily said up to 10 army recruits were involved in an all-night romp in the Nicosia sector of the no-man's land with a mother-of-three who had them queuing up for more.

"The soldiers formed an orderly line outside the room waiting to have sex one-by-one. At one point two soldiers came along to serve food, even they didnt leave unsatisfied," it said."

See? Greece really is the cradle of civilization.

All I Want to Do Is Get Rid of This Cold and Sleep with Salma Hayek. Can We Make This Happen? Nicole? Nicole? Well, You've Got My Number

Actress Angelina Jolie visited a young cancer patient, at the invitation of Nicole Kidman. Jolie, 30, who found out about the little boy from Kidman, went Tuesday at the Memorial Sloan-Kettering hospital in New York to visit Dylan , who’s suffering from a rare form of cancer.

One month ago, Nicole promised to a six-year old child to bring Angelina Jolie to the hospital, so he could meet her.

Kidman visited Australian Dylan Hartung twice in hospital, where he is receiving treatment for a rare form of neuroblastoma. When the actress asked the little boy what are his wishes, he told her he wants to beat cancer and meet Angelina Jolie.

And so, Angelina made his wish come true..."

Ah, the old I-just-want-to-beat-cancer-and-meet-Angelina Jolie gambit: If I've seen it once, I've seen it a thousand times, but never played so well as this. Well done, young man. Well done.

Kind of Makes You Wish Your Girlfriend's Dad Treated You As If You Were Her Lesbian Lover

Question: How do I know if a girl loves me or not?—Ajay

Answer: If one night you go out drinking and end up back at her place, pass out together on the bed with your shoes on, and wake up a few hours later only to discover that you’ve peed the bed, which she takes in stride, changes the sheets, and then the next morning has a laugh about it, later leaves some pamphlets from the local health clinic about child bedwetters in your mailbox, and eventually after a few weeks tells your friends but never, ever tells hers: She loves you.

If she knows what song is coming next on the mix CD you made her: She loves you.

If she hides your shoes when you’re late for work, and from a supine position on the couch plays “Hot/Cold,” and, finally, after 15 minutes of you ignoring her screaming, “Boiling! Burning up!” every time you stalk angrily by the dishwasher, gets up, flips it open to reveal the shoes, sitting there among the plates, and hands them over with a kiss and a giggle, and then laughs some more as you tie your laces in a silent rage: She loves you.

If she calls you at work that day to ask, “How are those shoes working out?”: She loves you.

If she tells you, "No, no, it's on me," when you try to leave the money on the dresser, she loves you, but leave her a big tip this time, just the same.

"What the Hell Is Happening to My Genitals?"

That most important question is answered here, by the Puberty Pals.

This probably shouldn't be viewed at work by most people (if you work in the adult entertainment industry, no worries) or anywhere by anyone who's frightened or offended by talking cartoon penises. But I thought those Amy Sedaris fans out there might be interested in seeing what she's been up to.

The Original Name for This Blog Was Going To Be "Home of the Slug Love," but, Sadly, That Name Was Taken

This is a slug penis. This particular slug was injected with the peptide hormone APGWamide. This hormone causes erections within minutes.

They have Viagra for banana slugs now. That's not sad. That's not sad at all.

If I've Written a Note Like This Once, I've Written a Note Like This a Thousand Times

Dear Angela (such an appropriate name! Like the angels!)

I wanted to let you know that I had a wonderful time tonight, and I hope that you would like to go out again, despite our rather unfortunate parting. I also wanted to let you know that in your haste to leave the parking lot, you apparently scraped a curb and lost your hubcap. I went back to pick it up and can return it to you sometime over dinner.

I’d like to express my sincerest apologies for having imprudently exposed my “enthusiasm” for you outside the restaurant. Please know that this has nothing to do with the “long dry spell” I mentioned at dinner. It was your ineluctable charms that inspired my heartfelt response, and you should be pleased to know that you could easily make any man’s circus come to town....

Your scream, by the way, is positively lyrical.

First, I thought the circus metaphor was the best part, but, now, I'm pretty sure it's that last line. You just can't beat great literature.

A Defence of ‘The Bad Book’ from a Librarian Who Purchased It for Her Stacks

I have purchased a copy of Andy Griffiths’ ‘The Bad Book’ for the junior section of our public library. I have done so for the following reasons:

1. It is funny
2. It is accessible and age appropriate for primary school aged children
3. Preventing children’s access to ‘badness’ in literature does not aid their moral development

I agree. We are not preparing our children for adulthood by preventing them from encountering bad things in our culture. We're simply preventing them from acquring the tools of good judgment in situations that require ethical decision making.

We need to stop this immediately for two reasons, one practical and the other, selfish.

On a practical level, it's not working. We're not creating a generation capable of making ethical decisions that conform to a healthy morality for a free society. We're producing adults incapable of identifying the what is good and what is bad. We're raising kids who think all choices are equal, and without the benefit of a healthy ethics, choosing immoral ones by happenstance or indifference. And we all have to suffer the consequences. We need to start exposing our kids to age-appropriate moral questions early and often, so we can correct them when they choose poorly and teach them why one is preferred over the other. We need to do this when only their parents (and maybe, some woodland creatures) have to suffer the consequences, before they are exposed to the public and by extension, me. Prison shouldn't be their first corrective.

On a selfish note, some of us choose to pursue the bad choices in life, because some of us think that stuff is fun, and creating protections for the kiddies only makes that stuff harder to get. It's like the child-proof lids on medications: yea, I can open them, but if there weren't some concern over kids accidentally taking drugs, I wouldn't have to curse every time, I do. What I'm saying is you and your kids are making it harder and harder for me to have a bad time.

And I resent the hell out of it. So stop.

Do it for the Lomans.

The Would You Have Been a Nazi Test

The Expatriate Achtung! You are 30% brainwashworthy, 22% antitolerant, and 19% blindly patriotic

Congratulations! You are not susceptible to brainwashing, your values and cares extend beyond the borders of your own country, and your Blind Patriotism does not reach unhealthy levels. If you had been German in the 30s, you would've left the country. One bad scenario -- as I hypothetically project you back in time -- is that you just wouldn't have cared one way or the other about Nazism. Maybe politics don't interest you enough. But the fact that you took this test means they probably do. I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt. Did you know that many of the smartest Germans departed prior to the beginning of World War II, because they knew some evil shit was brewing? Brain Drain. Many of them were scientists. It is very possible you could have been one of them. Conclusion: born and raised in Germany in the early 1930's, you would not have been a Nazi. The Would You Have Been A Nazi? Test - it rules -

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 30% on brainwashworthy You scored higher than 20% on antitolerant You scored higher than 11% on patriotic

Link: The Would You Have Been a Nazi Test written by jason_bateman on Ok Cupid

Well, you're safe from the First Reich of Loman.

The downside is if someone else decides to take over and you're caught up in a purge, I'm more likely to run, than to help. So arm yourself, hunker down.

Good luck and God bless. I've got a bus to Canada to catch.

Remember: Nothing Says, "I'm Here to Help" Like a Lap Dance

In a sign that things may be returning to normal in New Orleans, strip shows are back in the city's famous French Quarter.

Erotic dancers and strippers are entertaining crowds of police, firefighters and military personnel instead of the usual audiences of drunken conventioneers and tourists in Bourbon Street's Deja Vu club, which reopened this week.

It's the first strip joint to resume business, ....

'It's nice to get back to work, and all these men need some entertainment,' Dawn Beasley, 27, a dancer at the club, said on Tuesday night. 'They haven't seen anybody but their buddies for two weeks.'

The crowd hooted and hollered as women peeled off their tops and gyrated, as customers tucked tips into their G-strings....

Only a handful of restaurants and bars in the Quarter have reopened in recent days, serving food and drinks -- usually without charge -- to rescue workers and military who stream through the mostly empty streets. The Deja Vu waived its cover charge, drinks were selling for $3 and a private dance was available for just $1."

And in an effort to provide a little comfort to those who have lost everything, Deja Vu announced that it is now accepting FEMA VISA cards.

The Terrorists Haven't Won, but Bet That Way, because It Looks Like the American Government Is about to Take a Dive. ("Say It Ain't Say, George.")

The FBI is joining the Bush administration's War on Porn. And it's looking for a few good agents.

Early last month, the bureau's Washington Field Office began recruiting for a new anti-obscenity squad....

The new squad will divert eight agents, a supervisor and assorted support staff to gather evidence against 'manufacturers and purveyors' of pornography -- not the kind exploiting children, but the kind that depicts, and is marketed to, consenting adults.

'"I guess this means we've won the war on terror," said one exasperated FBI agent, speaking on the condition of anonymity because poking fun at headquarters is not regarded as career-enhancing.

Do they know how many special agents are qualified to take on this kind of mission? If they'd just consider their resources, they discover a multitude of dedicated citizens they could employ who already know their way around the national spank that is the porn industry, so many, in fact, they'd never have to take a single agent away from the War on Terror.

I bet they'd even work for free.

How hard could finding a few agents like that be? I mean, just a cursory look at my Internet practices and credit card charges would show how easy locating a few porn czars and czarinas would be.

On second thought, stay away from my Internet and credit card charges. There's absolutely of value to be found there.

And for the record (since we all know you're going to check them now), I thought a Cleveland Steamer was a midwestern clam dish. I was merely searching for a recipe.

"Can You Hear Me Now?" (Sorry, I Had To)

Romanian police caught a female mobile phone thief by dialling the stolen phone - and hearing it ringing from her bum.

Police in Iasi stopped Petronela Brandus, 24, as she tried to get off a bus after other passengers said they saw her steal a mobile phone.

But after a search failed to find the phone, police decided to call the number to see where it was and heard a muffled ringing coming from under the woman's dress.

She was taken to a local police station where a strip search by female police officers revealed she had hidden it up her bottom, local daily 7 Plus reported....

Officer Madalin Taranu said: "The station doctor extracted the phone and we sprayed it with disinfectant before handing it back to its owner."

And that's how the Donate a Phone to Charity program got started.

Kinky Friedman: Why the Hell Not?

How did things get this bad? Well, it wasn't sex and cheerleaders.

I make it a policy to always vote for the Sex and Cheerleaders candidate. And if you're a middle-aged perv like me, you'll make it yours, too.

"Unlikely Pen Pals: Penny Dobson, Seventh-Grader from Suburban New Jersey circa 1985, and Vladimir Tarkovsky, Inmate of a Siberian Gulag, circa 1952"

Dear Vladimir,

Hi. How are ya? This is so awesome. I’ve never had a pen pal before. Now I’ve got an honest-to-God Russian guy to write to. I guess I should tell you a bit about myself. My name is Penny. I’m in the seventh grade. I like singing, watching TV (“Eight Is Enough”!), and writing in my journal. Sometimes I write in my journal and pretend like I’m writing to a pen pal. Now I don’t have to. I can just write you. Yay! Write back real soon and tell me about your crazy life “Back in the U.S.S.R.” (Corny, I know, but my parents loooove the Beatles.)

Your pal,
Penny

P.S. Do you prefer to be called a Ruskie? I’m never sure about those sorts of things.
* * *

My Dearest Penelope,

Apologies must come first. My English is poor and for writing there is this nub of coal and this soiled rag only.

...

That's why I stopped writing prisoners: They're sooooo needy.

And they get out.

To the Drag Queen Who Bailed Me Out of Bernalillo County Jail

You came in to Foxes Friday night, according to the story that I heard, and asked Alex the doorman where I was. On being told I was in jail, you who had met me only briefly once before said something like 'what do we need to do to get him out?' You took two hundred dollars out and gave it probably to Alex. He gave it to the bondsman. I was released a few hours later, and heard this story from Alex in the parking lot at Foxes as the State Fair parade marched by Saturday morning, ending my nightmare as a simple surreal dream. By then, you were gone, and there was no way to reach you. Alex reports to me your parting words to me were 'tell him to pay me back when he wins the lottery'.

There's a country music hit in there somewhere. I mean, the title alone would take it to Gold.

It's from _Band the Drum Slowly_*

A Chinese gangmaster accused of killing 21 cockle pickers who drowned when they were caught by the incoming tide at Morecambe Bay repeatedly tried to distance himself from the tragedy and ordered the survivors not to tell anyone he was their boss, a court heard yesterday.

But the jury at the Preston crown court trial was told that Lin Liang Ren, 29, of Liverpool, was the man who controlled the cockle pickers"

And a vision of my tombstone appeared:

Here lies

Biff Loman

the Man Who Controlled
The Cockle Pickers

It totally blew away my previous vision:

Biff Loman

the Assholes of the World
Have Lost
Their Leader*

Of course, my mom will make them change it to "Beloved Son" or something respectable.

And If Memory Serves, the First Stage of Grief Is Anger -- Camo-Wearing, "What Do You Think He's Got in That Duffle Bag?"-provoking Anger

The MacArthur Fellows Program awards unrestricted fellowships to talented individuals who have shown extraordinary originality and dedication in their creative pursuits and a marked capacity for self-direction. There are three criteria for selection of Fellows: exceptional creativity, promise for important future advances based on a track record of significant accomplishment, and potential for the fellowship to facilitate subsequent creative work."

Potential for the fellowship to facilitate subsequent creative work: Check.

Promise for important future advances based on a track record of significant accomplishment: Well, um, yeah, check.

Exceptional creativity: Check (Surely, they're grading on a curve here).

Yet, another year goes by with no genius grant for Loman (and if you're reading this, probably -- no, certainly -- not for you, either).

Okay, let's all take a moment to grieve, a moment to drink heavily, a moment to pass out and then, to start anew. Next year will be here before you know it, people. There're brilliant blog works of genius and wonder to be done, and my guess is they ain't going to be done by laser technologists, sculptors, and maestri.

Besides, being a genius beats working for a living.

Hypocrisy: Barring the Opening of a New Strip Club, Here, in a City That Permits Restaurants to Serve Sushi Off the Bodies of Nude Women

Once upon a time, Bob Davis, an ex-comedy club owner whom I have known for many years, crumbled under Satan's power and decided to try to open an adult entertainment venue in downtown Seattle, but the city wouldn't let him.

License denied.

In March 2004, Davis challenged the city's policy and recently a judge decided that the city's action of repeatedly extending the ban on new strip clubs lacked merit and deemed it an 'unconstitutional restraint on free speech.'

Wow.

So now, not only may Bob Davis open a new adult entertainment venue in the Seattle city limits, but the city, caught with its legal briefs down, may have to fork over $5 million to Bob Davis for its unlawful restriction.

Ouch. Five MILLION dollars.

Do you have any idea how many lap dances you can buy for $5 million?

If Bob Davis triumphs over the city in his lawsuit, I think he should get 250,000 $20 bills directly deposited into the waistband of his underwear.

She's my favorite columnist, not just because of that column, but also because she once taunted police officers -- who showed up well after she called them and the crack dealer conducting business outside her apartment window had gone -- with "Bad Boys, Bad Boys, whatcha' gonna' do? Whatcha' gonna do 40 minutes after I've called you."

VH1.com: 50 Most Awesomely Bad Songs...Ever : Countdown

Pimp Juice?! Pimp Juice?! I don't belive it. Of All Time.

And The Pina Colada Song didn't make the list?! How can that be?

Oh, it be.

One More for the "Black People Can Be So Sensitive Sometimes" File

A Greenville Technical College official who school leaders say twice referred to New Orleans evacuees in Greenville as 'yard apes' has resigned, according to the school."

I believe the preferred term is "Pickaninny Americans." How many times do we have to tell you? Jeez. (Master race, my ass.)

P.S.

You know what's funny?

Greenville Tech officials pointed Wednesday to 2004 figures contained in the state Human Affairs Commission's annual report to the General Assembly that show the school ranked in the top 15 out of 77 state agencies for reflecting the diversity of the available labor pool.

I mean, being in the top 15 out of 77 state agencies for reflecting diversity of the available labor pool in South Carolina is like finishing 3rd in the ranking of the sanest Jacksons. (Hang in there, Tito. Marlon and Jackie can't hang on for much longer.) The competition pales the success.

Portrait of the Artist as a Cartoon

Dude, seriously,

that's some fucked up shit right there.

Abandoned, Lied to, and Unsure How It All Came to This, the People of New Orleans Are a Metaphor for the American Electorate

I am duty-bound to report the talk of the New Orleans warehouse district last night: there was rejoicing (well, there would have been without the curfew, but the few people I saw on the streets were excited) when the power came back on for blocks on end....The motorcade route through the district was partially lit no more than 30 minutes before POTUS drove through. And yet last night, no more than an hour after the President departed, the lights went out. The entire area was plunged into total darkness again, to audible groans. It's enough to make some of the folks here who witnessed it... jump to certain conclusions."

Well, don't hold us in suspense, Brian. What conclusions did they jump to?!

I'm just kidding. I know.

I jumped to one myself. Admittedly, it's not one of the ones he was referring to, but it's valid nonetheless: The people who are shocked by this are, either, truly desperate or totally naive.

There's a Woman Behind This. You Know That, Don't You?

You are bidding on a mistake.

We all make mistakes. We date the wrong people for too long. We chew gum with our mouths open. We say inappropriate things in front of grandma.

And we buy leather pants."

Yes, we do – if by “pants” he means “thongs” and by “buy” he means “wake up wearing.” Yes, we unfortunately do, all too often.

Don't judge.

Shoe Is Rolling Over in His Grave

Jillian Bandes wrote in Tuesday's 'Licensed to Jill' column in the UNC-Chapel Hill Daily Tar Heel: 'I want all Arabs to be stripped naked and cavity-searched if they get within 100 yards of an airport. I don’t care if they’re being inconvenienced. I don’t care if it seems as though their rights are being violated.' She was fired on Wednesday."

On behalf of my alma mater, sorry. Our journalism students -- editors and editorial writers -- usually are better trained than this.

I Hate to Break It To You, Ms Reed, but If Your Daughter's in an American High School, She's Already Been Exposed to Oral Sex.

Shame really is a brilliant book, and it's completely inoffensive, unless you take umbrage at sentences like 'Fuck me in the mouth, pimp, go suck your grandson's cock' (page 251) and 'I shit on your words. Your balls dropped too soon and you got the hots, no more to it than that' (page 23)."

Guess what just got bumped to the top of my reading list? Sorry Harry Potter. Daddy needs some adult time.

"What We Have Here Is Failure to Communicate"

"'Go fuck yourself, Mr. Cheney," yelled Ben Marble, a Mississippi physician who lost his home in the hurricane. "Go fuck yourself." Marble was handcuffed and later released....."

As you know, I taught political philosophy for a few years for a otherwise reputable university. But I cut my teaching teeth with a Introduction to American Government class -- the training wheels of political science courses.

For civil rights, I'd locate some rather extreme uses of the various rights to bring it all home to the kids. The kids thought they were enlightening presentations.

There was one in particular about a court finding that calling a police officer a "mother fucker" was protected speech, because it was speech considered to be critical of the government (and not necessarily the man inside of the uniform).

I'd always close the section with a caveat that although Americans -- they -- had tons of rights, they should be judicious in their exercise of them. For instance, I'd tell them, I'd been pulled over on a dark street by a cop, who violated several of my constitutionally protected rights. I, unlike the guy in the example, did not call the cop a "mother fucker." Instead, I listened intently to his instructions, followed them to the letter, and drove off unmolested with a warning. I'd tell them that. And when they'd give me that look, the one that says, "You look more like a guy who'd shout 'mother fucker' at a cop than a Uncle Tom, who'd slobber him with 'yes'sah boss's, I'd point out that the guy who'd yelled "mother fucker" received a brutal beating that left him with a plate in his head and a partially paralyzed left side. He'd had every right to call that cop a mother fucker. What he'd forgotten and the thing I wanted them to learn was, the Constitution protects your speech from government infringement; it does not protect you, as it did protect him, from a beat down. "Discretion," I'd say, "kids, it's all about discretion."

They'd give me that look, the one that says, "Yes'sah boss."

Another Sentence I Never Thought I'd Hear Myself Say

Dear Man Who's Jowl-Deep In Phyllis Diller's Pussy,

I'm single mother of two in my mid-30s. I'm busy working and raising two teenagers, but I still make time for what I consider very important: family activities. Lately, however, my son and daughter seem to prefer going off by themselves to spending time together. Worse, when I insist on quality time, they resent it... and me. How do I cope with this 'generation gap'? I thought you'd understand, because you are jowl-deep in Phyllis Diller's pussy.

—Fed-Up in Frisco
Dear Fed-Up in Frisco,

Mmmph, mmph, mmmmmph... MMPH! (gasp) MMPH! Mm-mmm-rrrrrr-nnnnn-mmmm-rrrumph oompth mmph rrrmmm-nnnn-OOF! (pant, pant!) OOF! Urrrrrgggghhh-gggrrgle oompth-mmph! MMMPH! MMMPTH! Brrr-oooooo-nnnn-yowww-rrrrrummmm-nummm.... Nnnnnph! NNNPH! NNNNNNNNPH! Oh God... MMMMMMMPH! (gasp!) (pant, pant, pant...) (gurgle!) MMMPH!"

I shall wash, but I shall not be clean of the shame. I laughed when I read this.

Obviously, the editorial staff of The Onion doesn't know where to draw the line. It is equally obvious, neither do I.

The 12 Saddest Words in the English Language: There's No Water for the 'Wash the Girl of Your Choice' Service

There's no water for the 'wash the girl of your choice' service and there aren't any girls either, but Big Daddy's strip club on New Orleans' Bourbon Street is getting ready to bring back erotic spectacle to the devastated city....

...Big Daddy's general manager, Saint Jones, and a band of helpers defied an evacuation order by arriving to clean up their premises in the historic French Quarter, which escaped largely unscathed from the floods.

Jones told Reuters he would open for business as soon as he could get electricity, water and dancers.

He was already had electricity from a generator, which was moving a pair of robotic woman's legs, in stockings and pink high heels, waving invitingly on the street by the sign for Big Daddy's.

He also had plenty of bottled water.

But his former employees had been evacuated, so his main problem was convincing girls to come to a town without services and supposedly off limits to most civilians.

But Jones, a corpulent man with a strawberry blond beard wearing a black t-shirt reading 'I'm smiling because they haven't found the bodies yet,' foresaw few problems getting strippers.

'It shouldn't be too hard. Everyone's going to come back in town and want to work. You know, if you've got 50 dancers in Houston and they're not making money, they're going to spread out,' he said....

Big Daddy's sign advertises several attractions, including 'Bottomless. Topless. Table top dancing,' and 'Wash the girl of your choice.'

This last item seemed to provide a business challenge in a city where the scant running water available in some districts is infected with feces and toxic loads of bacteria.

But Jones was undaunted.

'We'll make sure they get showers,' he said.

Jones then corrected himself. "Did I say, 'showers'? I did? Well, I meant, 'Baths.' Okay, if you want to pick nits, they won't be "bathing" so much as wrestling. In pudding, instead of water -- for health reasons.

When I have grandkids, I'm going to sit them down and tell them about this man. I'm going to look them straight in the eyes, lower my voice, and begin, "When I was a boy, gods walked the Earth."

Having Saved New Orleans and the Battered Gulf Region, Michael Brown Set His Sights on Saving the Private Sector. God Help Us All"

Shortly after Brown was recalled to Washington last week, officials close to the FEMA director said he would probably resign. They said that even before Katrina, Brown had been planning on leaving the administration late this fall to go into the private sector.

Pick Your Response

1. "And do what?!"

2. "Please, please, please, oh please, let it be Halliburton."

3. "He's got friends in the private sector?!"

4. "That can't be good news for the poor or the minorities."

5. "The private sector? Why not the Army? I hear they're looking for a few good men."

"God Outdoes Terrorists Yet Again"

I don't know which I like best, "FEMA representatives call out to survivors, 'Show us your tits for emergency rations!'" or "Throughout the Gulf Coast, Caucasian suburbanites attempting to gather food and drink in the shattered wreckage of shopping districts have reported seeing African Americans 'looting snacks and beer from damaged businesses.'"

I do love The Onion so.

Come for the Photos; Stay for the Captions

"On Bourbon Street, there was on individual who kept yelling at the top of his lungs: 'Hell is coming! All of you are going to get f*@#ed! Everyone is going to die!' I didn't like this guy..."

Nobody likes that guy, but in a natural disaster, you should strive to be that guy, because that guy always survives. Fools, drunks, and babies: what can I say?

To Say, "We're Sorry" Doesn't Begin to Cover It

A man marries a woman because he loves her. So instead of blaming him if married love begins to cool, she should question herself. Is she truly trying to keep her husband and herself eager, happy married lovers? One effective way to safeguard her dainty feminine allure is by practicing complete feminine hygiene as provided by vaginal douches with a scientifically correct preparation like "Lysol." So easy a way to banish the misgivings that often keep married lovers apart.

Germs destroyed swiftly

"Lysol" has amazing proved power to kill germ-life on contact...truly cleanses the vaginal canal even in the presence of mucous matter. Thus "Lysol" acts in a way that makeshifts like soap, salt or soda never can.

Appealing daintiness is assured, because the very source of objectionable odors is eliminated.

So Ladies, for the sake of your marriages, keep your "feminine dainty allures" clean!

Another public service message from Biff Loman, LMD*, "Lysol," and the Internet Dept. of Health.

*Love Doctor

If You Can Keep Your Head while All Around You Are Losing Theirs, Then You Will Be a First Grader, My Son

In the chaos that was Causeway Boulevard, this group of evacuees stood out: a 6-year-old boy walking down the road, holding a 5-month-old, surrounded by five toddlers who followed him around as if he were their leader.

They were holding hands. Three of the children were about 2 years old, and one was wearing only diapers. A 3-year-old girl had her 14-month-old brother in tow. The 6-year-old spoke for all of them, and he said his name was Deamonte Love."

I have a feeling that kid is going to need a lot of therapy down the road. He’s not going to get it, of course, but we can talk about that ten years from now, after he’s blown up his high school and opened fire on his classmates.

You Can't Be Buried Next to Hendrix, Either. (But You Didn't Hear That from Me)

I, Patrick Washington Dunkler, being of exceptionally sound mind and body, do hereby declare this to be my Last Will and Testament. I am a senior member of the Search for Historical Inaccuracies and the Revelation of Truth, herein referred to as 'SHIRT.'

ARTICLE I
Burial

So, They finally got me! Who was it? The Government? The Freemasons? The MPAA? I must congratulate Them on a job well done. I am not an easy man to fool. How did I die? Did They poison the stamps I lick? Invent an aluminum-foil-piercing weapon? Switch out the pizza guy for a sexy female assassin who seduced me, then stabbed me with an icepick? I hope I wasn't a victim of the old 'black-limo drive-by.' Well, it doesn't matter now. I've lived a full life, and there are at least two other members of SHIRT to continue where I have fallen....

ARTICLE V
Miscellaneous

Lastly, please do not attempt to avenge my death. I understand your outrage, and I am flattered that you would risk your lives to do so, but you cannot beat Them at their own game. We will win the war, but it will take time. Whenever you see a lost soul mindlessly taking a news report as fact, explain to them how all news media is owned by the same 400-year-old Asian man. Whenever you see a child playing with an electronic toy, smash it to bits, and tell them about the tracking device inside, once they've stopped crying. And whenever you see someone drinking cappuccino, tell them about all the mind-altering chemicals the Government adds to the Styrofoam cups and free napkins. Remember: it is better to light a candle than to punch the darkness. Stay strong, my brothers! Truth will prevail!

In the event that I die of truly natural causes, please disregard my previous instructions and bury me below a tombstone that reads: 'I fought The Illuminati and all I got was this lousy tombstone.'

Seriously, McSweeney's is getting better.

"Veteran Nation, Down on Luck, 100s of 1000s of Mouths to Feed at Home. Will Invade for Food. Please Give and God Bless"

In a turnabout, the United States is now on the receiving end of help from around the world as some two dozen countries offer post-hurricane assistance.

Venezuela, a target of frequent criticism by the Bush administration, offered humanitarian aid and fuel. Venezuela's Citgo Petroleum Corp. (search) pledged a $1 million donation for hurricane aid.

The United Nations informed U.S. Ambassador John R. Bolton (search) it was prepared to support the relief effort "in any way possible." Under Secretary-General Jan Egeland (search) said his office had offered the services of the U.N.'s disaster assistance and coordination teams to the U.S. Agency for International Development.

Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon (search) sent a letter to President Bush offering hundreds of doctors, nurses, technicians and other experts in trauma, natural disasters and public health.

"We also offer field hospitals, medical kits and equipment for temporary housing, reinforcement for hospitals, or any assistance that you may require," Sharon wrote.

He said the teams and equipment could be ready in 24 hours.

With offers from the four corners of the globe pouring in, Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice (search) has decided "no offer that can help alleviate the suffering of the people in the afflicted area will be refused," State Department spokesman Sean McCormack said Thursday.

However, in Moscow, a Russian official said the U.S. Federal Emergency Management Agency had rejected a Russian offer to dispatch rescue teams and other aid.

On Tuesday, President Vladimir Putin sent condolences to Bush and said Russia was prepared to help if asked...

Offers have been received from Russia, Japan, Canada, France, Honduras, Germany, Venezuela, Jamaica, Australia, the United Kingdom, the Netherlands, Switzerland, Greece, Hungary, Colombia, the Dominican Republic, El Salvador, Mexico, China, South Korea, Israel, the United Arab Emirates, NATO and the Organization of American States, the spokesman said.

Thank you. Thank you all. That's very kind of.... Wait.

Bosnia! Hey, Bosnia! Where are you going? It's us! Your old friend, the United States of America! How's about a little something, you know, for the effort? Oh, you didn't see us standing here, with the lower half of our nation soiled in mud and urine and feces and everything, and needing a hand. Yeah, well, give a little, will you?

Who's that? India? hiding behind Viet Nam? Hey, India! What's up with that?! Oh, you don't have any change on you? Uh huh. Well, the hat's being passed Asia's way, and it better see a contribution from you when it does -- and none of that Enlightenment crap like you tried to drop on Somalia, either.

Yeah, yeah, I got ya' Karma.

What are laughing at Poland? ...

Oh, hey, Russia. No, no, we weren't taking up a collection? No, seriously, we're good.

No, I have no idea what Poland's laughing about.