For the Law Guy, Possibly the Only Person Who Loves Jackie Chiles More than I Do

A man who punched an eight-year-old trick-or-treater in the face has been given a suspended prison sentence and told to pay compensation.

Christopher Eslick, 61, of Plymouth, Devon, pleaded guilty to the common assault outside his home at Halloween.

He had put a “no trick-or-treat” poster up and lashed out when the boy called.

Eslick was given a two-month prison sentence suspended for a year, ordered to do 80 hours of community service and told to pay the victim £150.

The boy was one of a number of young people to have called at Eslick's home despite the poster.

[Setting: Jackie Chile's Office]

(Christopher Eslick is sitting across from Jackie)

Jackie: So you're sitting in your home, you're with your friend, minding your own business?

Eslick: Yeah.

Jackie: Then what happened?

Eslick: Then this trick-or-treater knocks at my door, and he's asking for candy.

Jackie: Candy? He didn't see the sign?

Eslick: No. So I got pissed off, and I slugged him.

Jackie: Well how would you describe this kid? Would you say he was literate?

Eslick: Oh, yeah.

Jackie: So we got a literate kid, wearing a mask, ignoring signs, walkin' around disturbing people in their homes on Halloween night. He's flouting society's conventions!

Eslick: Oh, he was flouting.

Jackie: That's totally inappropriate. It's rude, crude, heinous,
outrageous!

Eslick: He was totally ignoring my sign!

Jackie: Now when you put up the sign, did you notice if it was visible? Were you able to see it in a normal fashion?

Eslick: No, now, that I think about it, I wasn't able to see it in a normal fashion.

Jackie: Hm Hm. All right, all right.

Eslick: Well, I think I had to squint.

Jackie: O.K. You had to squint. Nothing wrong with that.

Eslick: Yeah, now is that going to be a problem?

Jackie: Yeah that's going to be a problem. It's gonna' be a problem for them.

This is a clear infringement on your constitutional rights. It's outrageous, egregious, preposterous.

Eslick: It's definitely preposterous.

Jackie: Now, did you make the sign or did the police make the sign?

Eslick: No. They made the sign.

Jackie: (To secretary over intercom) Suzie. I want you to go down to the police station.

Get me a “No Trick-or-Treating” sign. (To Eslick) We're gonna' run some tests on that sign.

Eslick: So, ah, what do you think Mr. Chiles?

Jackie: Jackie.

Eslick: Jackie. I mean, do we have a chance?

Jackie: Do we have a chance? You get me one cranky, old bastard on that jury, you gonna' walk outta' there a rich man.

Is the Writer's Strike Over, Yet?

Hillary: I'm in the front,
But what I want is a little bit of Mandingo love.

Bill had Monica
Playing him like a harmonica,
So can I be blamed
If I want to get some strange.

Yes, I am a firm believer
In some hardcore jungle fever.

He's my boy, I am his girl.
Hells yeah, we're both down with the swirl.

We might have differences on Iraq,
But no one's stiffer in the sack.

I can't lie.
That's why
I wanna' be under Barack Obama.

The polls have me in the lead,
But your pole's the only one I need.


See what they did there with the Poll/Pole thing? Do you know what that means? Yeah, that's right: they've killed the funny.

Oh, and it's going to be a long, long election year.

This Is Your Internet on Straight

The next time you're counting the levels of wrong, you'll know you're getting close to the bottom—near Wrong Hell—when you see something like that. Just. So. Very. Wrong.

It's also a good argument for gay people—because this is what the world would be like if style and sexual mores were determined by the Straight side of the culture.

Remember that. And the next time you catch someone gay-bashing, act. Stop them. Don't think. But if you must think, think this: “That person just bashed us one step closer to Xanadu.” and do what your heart tells you.

P.S. When I was a lad, Olivia Newton John could send my mind racing to naughty places and send my penis into a state of rigidity that opened up new areas of theoretical physics and materials science. [footnote forthcoming] Times, apparently, have changed. Halfway through that clip of Olivia in her heyday, my penis yelped and ran away.

If you see it, send it home. Tell it I miss it and have learned to love it even more in this brief absence.

And don't worry about approaching it: It's had all of its shots and is very friendly toward strangers.

It's Hard to Argue with Her: She Does Have Great “Knockers”

Come for the boobs. Stay for the yodeling.

Maybe, We Should Try that with Osama

Police checked the area and found an open door in the back of the building. An officer went inside and called out, “Marco.”

The man's name was not Marco, detective Tim Dohr said. Instead, “the officer was trying to inject some humor into the situation.”

Police found the suspect after he responded, “Polo.”

Swift Kids for Truth

Cherub: “Barack Obamba, Barack Abama, …”

Cherub-ish: “Barack Obama, …”

Cherub-y: “Buh-lack-a-rama, …” Do we want a president with a name like that?

Little Girl: Barack Obama lied to the American people when he told us he was black.

Cherub-y: He's not black.

Little Girl: I should know—because I'm black.

In Canada, Not Even the Stuffed Ones Are Safe

A Winnipeg man who turned an East Kildonan garage into an impromptu passion pit paid a stiff price yesterday for his heavy petting session with a stuffed toy dog.

The 27-year-old man pleaded guilty to mischief and break, enter and theft and was sentenced to six months in jail.

Court heard Winnipeg police were called shortly before 6 p.m. on March 26 after a Chelsea Avenue resident spotted the man breaking into her garage. The man exited the garage a short time later and moved on to a neighbour's garage, where he stole a lawn mower, a mountain bike, a blanket and a stuffed toy dog.

The man eventually returned to the first garage, where police found him nearly two hours later passed out inside a boat.

“He was lying there with his genitalia exposed next to the stuffed dog,” said Crown attorney John Peden. “While the police report doesn't describe it this way, the dog might be appropriately characterized as now being anatomically correct, as opposed to its condition before he removed it.”

Said the defendant, “Was that wrong? Because had I known that it was hands off the stuffed ones, too, I would have never bad-touched that dog. Nor that Raggedy Ann doll.

“And, okay, while I'm confessing, Raggedy Andy's got a story to tell, too.”

“I've Got My Head So Far Up Big Business's Ass, the World Looks Like a Colon – Denny Crane

This post is dedicated to the genius that is William Shatner. Trust me, after Star Trek IV, The one with the Whales, I never thought I would be extolling the acting prowess of what I thought would be the always wooden and jaggedy dialogue of the Shat’. But as I fly towards his birthplace of Montreal, I am feeling wistful for my fellow Canadian. Sure, he barely spends any time here, but I did see him eat a gigantic corned beef sandwich in a deli near his old home while watching some Shatner special on the CBC. …

It does help that this character dressed quite a bit like Canadian icon Don Cherry. I like to think of it as an homage. If it was 40 years ago and I was a hot green alien chick I would totally tap the Shat’. I say cheers to Bill and the Emmy in 2005, and cheers to Denny Crane, his mad cow, raging sexual appetite for a senior citizen, and his twinkle defense of merely mentioning his name. Denny Crane.


I've mentioned my man-crush on him before, so it should go without saying. I'm going to say it, anyway. I would totally tap that Shat—totally. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Why? What have you heard?

It's Distrubing. Yet, I Cannot Look Away

To all you young girls out there poisoned by the hyper-sexualized cultural environment we've created for you,

Before you do your Britney dance, wash the plush toy snake you plan to use as a boa.

Trust me on this. A man of the world, I know that dogs are even more sensitive to the hype than you are.

Is It Award Season Already?

More than 1 million cases of chlamydia were reported in the United States last year—the most ever reported for a sexually transmitted disease, federal health officials said Tuesday.

“A new U.S. record,” said Dr. John M. Douglas Jr. of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. …

The CDC releases a report each year on chlamydia, gonorrhea and syphilis, three diseases caused by sexually transmitted bacteria.

Chlamydia is the most common. Nearly 1,031,000 cases were reported last year, up from 976,000 the year before.

The count broke the single-year record for reported cases of a sexually transmitted disease, which was 1,013,436 cases of gonorrhea, set in 1978.

“First, I'd like to thank my lord and savior, with whom all things are possible.

“I'd like to thank my competitors, Gonorrhea and Syphilis. G', when you set the record back in '78, I remember watching you give your CDC Award speech and thinking, ‘That record will stand for all time.’ I think it would have, too, if you and Syph' hadn't pushed me this year, if you hadn't been such competitors. Much love to the both of you. Thanks.”

[WE LOVE YOU, Chlamydia!]

“That reminds me. I'd like to give a shout-out to all the fine ladies in the house. No disrepect to the fellas. I know you did your part, looking at the discharge flowing from your penises and thinking, ‘Two–Three days max, if it doesn't clear up by then, I'll ask someone if I should see a doctor.’ I can't thank you enough for that, but if it hadn't been for the girls going wild out there without any symptoms to slow them down, I'd have never cracked the million milestone. [Kissing his finger tips and waving his hand to the crowd] Umm-wah! That's for y'all.

“Thanks to my brother and sister, Muridarum and Suis, I believe y'all are the future. I really do. Whatever awaits you, it begins with a dream. Dare to dream.

“And don't let the negative weigh you down. I spent the latter part of the year fending off rumors that I've been posting big numbers by Juicin'. I can' believe that those stories got play. It's just so unbelievable. I don't know why anyone would spread such lies.

“Back in the day, when the CDC first started tracking cases, we didn't have all this trash-talking. Back then, it was all about the fucking and the infections. Now, …

“Why you hating', Herpes? Huh? Why you hatin'?

“Sorry.

“Finally, I'd like to thank my parents, Chlamydiaceae and Chlamydiales. They … [The tears begin to fall.] They never got a chance to see me become a thriving culture. As most of you know, they were tragically killed by Azithromycin when I was just a young bacteria, backwhen I was just beginning to get my germ on. I know wherever they are, they are proud of me, as they always were. If this honor can do anything, I hope it can focus our attention and research on finding a cure and putting an end to Azithromycin deaths in our lifetime. Mom and dad, this is for you.

“Thank you, CDC!”

It's like Thanksgiving's come early.

Flannery O'Connor Chili

• whole boneless peacock (3 lbs), or 3 lbs boneless, skinned peacock breasts, cubed
  
• 2 medium onions
  
• 4 cloves garlic, chopped
  
• ½ cup peanut oil
  
• ½ cup chili powder
  
• 1 and ½ teaspoons cayenne pepper
  
• 5 tablespoons ground cumin
  
• ¼ cup flour
  
• 3 large tomatoes
  
• 2 cups water
  
• 2 12 oz bottles of Dixie (or Jax, or Greisedeck) beer
  
• 1 teaspoon cilantro
  
• juice of 1 lime
  

Go out in the yard at dark and listen in the trees. Catch one napping and bring it in. Knock it on the doorframe first, otherwise you're in for a time. Save the better feathers, you might use them later.

Cook the onions and garlic in the oil in a large pot, not long, just to get some flavor out of them. Don't brown 'em! Toss in the cubes of meat and cook till they're white all around. Throw in your chili powder and cayenne and cumin and roll the meat around in it. Throw in your flour and roll it around again.

Puree the tomatoes and slop them in with one of the beers and then the water. Mix it up, turn the stove down, cover and simmer for 40 minutes. Stir in the cilantro and the lime juice. Take the lid off and simmer it another half hour.

Drink the other Dixie/Jax/Greisedeck and taste the spoon so it burns your tongue good. Salt to taste, or more cayenne. Chili should be thick when it's ready.

Wear the feathers while you're eating. When you're done, go out in the yard with the pot and bang on it with a spoon. Holler “You're next, you lazy ingrates” so the neighbors can hear.

Now, that's what I call cooking.

If You Ever See Me “Up in da' Club” in Iowa, Shoot Me. I'd Do It for You

The latest from the 200-plus beat-box machine:

I arrive looking good,
And thankfully,
My pants do stretch,
Which allow me to be
Free on the dance floor, but not a cheap date.

I put the body glitter on 'cause I never hesitate.
My master plan is to shock and then tease,
Break every heart, then bust my knees,
Proving and grooving my brand new dance
Might just be the greatest in the land.

Then, the crowd says [maniacal laughter],
When I do my Scissor Kicks.
And then the crowd screams “Oooh”
When I do my Lady Flips. …

Stomp once to hear Britney,
Twice for Byoncé
Now, three times if you want to hear me get nasty.

Now, I am not a violent man, but I swear by everything Holy and Divine in your world and mine that if anyone out there so much as twitches in a slightly stomp-ish fashion, I'll find you, and I'll kill you even if it takes me the rest of my life.

James Brown Wants You to R-R-R-R-R-R-ead to Yo' Money-Maker until You Cold Sweat Out Your Perm. Gut Gawd!

With hairless pecs bulging from almost every cover, misty castles in the background, and unsheathed swords grasped by virile hands, there is a lingering musk of Fabio that causes snickers among the uninitiated, the cynics who pass the racks by in search of paper towels and TV dinners. Before heading home alone to watch Desperate Housewives or The Hills, these shoppers may smirk, wondering to themselves, “Why would anyone want to read these books?”

Study these in-store displays and you'll discern highly specific genres within romance: fantasy, paranormal, sci-fi, and especially historical—where swords, stallions, castles, hoopskirts, plantations, and domestic servants have strangely endured.

And among these coded book covers, where yearning maidens cling to strapping lads with gilded locks, it's nearly impossible to find an African-American face. Nor any Latina features, nor any Asian figures, nor any sign that love exists for nonwhite women.


Well, if you're trying to get the boys in the 'hood excited—that's neighbor-, not clitoral—you're going to have to drop the fantasies about hoopskirts and plantations. I know the antebellum South gets some people as hot and moist as a North Carolina summer, but not us. We find that period about as exciting as the federal tax code, and we find hoopskirts and plantations, together, about as erectile dysfunctional as discovering we've just licked a chancre. If you must write this stuff—mind you, I said, “if”—write about something else in some other era.

Besides, anything you write is going to be compared inevitably to this? and you don't ever want to be compared to that, because, really,…eew.

While we're on the subject of “Eew,” “the lingering musk of Fabio?” Oh, sweet jebus.

You Have to Admit. She's Got Crazy Eyes (Man, I Love Poorly Placed Google-Search Ads)

A woman bit off her ex-boyfriend's lower lip as they were kissing in bed, likely disfiguring him permanently, authorities said. The 49-year-old man and the woman kissed several times Monday night when, without provocation, she bit off his lip and spat it out, he told King County sheriff's deputies.

Deputies were called to the house in White Center, an unincorporated suburb south of Seattle, and found the man bleeding on the porch.

“There was quite a bit of blood,” sheriff's Sgt. John Urquhart said. “He could talk, but just barely.”

Deputies reported finding the man's lip on the bedroom floor, covered with cat hair. Doctors at a hospital were unable to reattach the lip, and deputies said he was likely to remain disfigured.

Authorities said a 44-year-old woman in the house cursed and attacked one of the deputies with a pillow before being arrested. She was jailed on investigation of domestic violence but had not been charged.

Bail for the woman was set Tuesday at $25,000. It was unclear Wednesday whether she had a lawyer and police did not release her name.

On a completely unrelated note, we, here, at CBS News, would like to announce that Katie Couric will be taking time off to deal with some personal issues. Charles Osgood will be sitting in. We ask that you not jump to any wild conclusions based on this coincidence.

*also seen here.

You're Doing a Helluva Job, Julie

The employee who wore what some said was a racially insensitive Halloween costume to a party hosted by a top immigration official is being directed by the Homeland Security Department Secretary to take administrative leave. …

The employee wore a striped prison outfit, dreadlocks and darkened skin make-up to the party hosted by Julie Myers, head of Immigration and Customs Enforcement.

Myers was on a three-judge panel that originally praised the prisoner costume for “originality.”

After some employees complained, Myers apologized for “a few of the costumes,” calling them “inappropriate and offensive.” She said she and other senior managers “deeply regret that this happened,” an apology which would've been more sincere had she not been using her fingers to form air quotes when saying, “inappropriate and offensive” and “deeply regret”

A department photographer took a picture of Myers with the man, but the photograph or photographs, originally posted online, were deleted after it was determined the costume was offensive, ICE spokeswoman Kelly Nantel said.

“It was unintentioned. The employee did not mean to offend although there were some employees that were rightfully offended by it,” Nantel said.

“You know which ones I'm talking about, right?” she said, before squatting and tossing a few gang signs. “The nappy ones?”



Well, it could've been worse. He could've gone as a Hurricane Katrina survivor.

All I'm saying is, the guy's not completely lacking in judgment.

Also, am I the only one bothered by the fact that she said, “a few of the costumes?”

Theirs Is the Superior Society

…although, I have to admit, I'm a little disappointed they didn't find a way to work sex into this game.

True Story

It was sweet, sweet victory for Anne Gemkow of Chicago as she pocketed the keys to her new Jeep Liberty, recently. She was the lucky licker in the Sweetest Day the Jeep Way contest in which contestants had to lick clean the grilles of seven chocolate-covered Jeep products.

When you read something like this, you wonder if mothers are passing down the life lessons they learned to their daughters. The thought that they aren't breaks my heart.

To spare the rest of you the heart-break I'm feeling, listen up, Anne and all the Annes of the world. I'm going to tell you something your mothers didn't, obviously, but should have.

Girls that lick get Jeeps; girls that suck get Mercedes.

And by the Way, My Hair Does That, too, When a Man of the Cloth Touches Me (See Page 2 of the Photographs)

Judging from the look on that child's face, Granny went to the wedding “commando-style.”

These are candid pictures taken at weddings and their pre- and post-nuptial activities. Oh, the humanity!

For the record, if you take a picture of the bride on the toilet, that's a paddling.

The Birds and the Bees Are Affected by Global Warming. Let's Hope Tipper and Al Aren't

[voice over]: They use to hibernate from December to March, but, now, with Global Warming accelerating at an alarming pace, the British environment is changing its habits. And according to some, not in a good way.…

Leslie Perkins, British Wildlife Society: Yeah, we've had a lot of problems with inappropriate pollination. We believe Global Warming is having a detrimental effect, and that it is made even worse by our travel habits here, in the U.K.

Ted Breast, Robin: Oh, yeah, yeah, we've got all these “tourists”coming over now, you know, nicking all our birds…

Björn Tolove: It is so wonderful! I can't get enough of the English Tits, you know. They're so randy! And so early in the year. I expect normally, like, to have a Spring sex party, but you can have it in the Winter, too.

Ohhhh. Thank you, Tracy.

Be warned, you readers not from Seattle: This clip includes rampant animal sex and a beast-filled orgy scene at the end.

And ladies, if you feel unsafe because you think that squirrel is leering at you, act on those feelings. Based on this, I'd say, he probably is. Take precautions.

Clearly, This Is Not Safe for Work

Question: I need 100 ways to say “I love you” to my girlfriend. We made a bet last night that I couldn’t come up with 100 and I can’t lose! Help me pa-pa-pa-pa-please non-expert. —Rod

Answer: Here’s the way to say “I love you”: rarely. To say it a hundred ways is to cheapen a pure sentiment; to place a bet with your girlfriend on your ability to do just that is to participate in a culture that has commoditized affection and thrown it into the remainder bin; and to ask someone else to come up with your hundred ways represents love at its nadir—pure romantic sloth. Why not deep-fry a bag of candy hearts and toss them on the rug for her to eat? That’s the (1) first suggestion.

Then there are the twee ways to say it: (2) with freshly cut flowers, assuming she is not a flower; (3) with a bust made of fudge; (4) with wee spaniels; (5) through blinking tears; (6) whispered to her hearing aid; (7) inscribed into her lawn with gasoline; (8) tattooed on your taint ….


Um, one of us—and I think it's you—is a little confused as to the meaning of the word “twee.”

That said, at my bachelor party—in addition to the tequila, the dancers, the hot, curvy Italian actresses dipped in chocolate, and the live sex show including, but not limited to little people, exotic animals, and industrial-strength love toys that require permits for use in most municipalities—I am going to have a discreet tattoo artist present, so I can have my betrothed's name put on my taint (and our safe word injected onto my anus).

I can't imagine ever regretting that.

That Sound You Hear: Doves Crying.

Least Likely 2 Breed

We make balms for the better enjoyment of parenthood.

Least Likely 2 Breed, huh? Looks like Prince has started his own new-parents–salve-selling company.

To all you new moms out there in need of the Tough Titties Nipple Rub, let me say, “Eye would Rub 4U.”