A Real Police Force Would Have Found those Leprechauns. For Shame, Seattle PD!

A “bunch of leprechauns” beat up a man in Belltown on Saturday, the bruised and bloodied victim told police.


Police say they received reports about the fight around 1:55 a.m. on Bell Street near the Alaskan Way Viaduct, but when they arrived they saw numerous people running from the scene.


Police then saw a man on the ground, who was covered in blood and holding his head and screaming in pain.


When police asked the man who was involved in the fight he said, “It was a bunch of leprechauns,” that were mad because he was dancing with a girl, according to police.


He told police one of the assailants was wearing a white tank top, but could not provide any more details about the leprechauns. Knowing that they wear “wife beaters,” hate watching heterosexuals dance, and that they are always after his Lucky Charms will have to do for now.


The man was taken to Harborview Medical Center with multiple head injuries — obviously — and cuts and bruises on his face, back, knuckles and elbows.


Police were unable to find the leprechauns or anyone else involved.

Facts in this story were changed to protect the sanity of our readers. Sadly, the part about the leprechauns was not one of them.

I Hate to Say It, but Given How Things Are Going, Nathaniel's Going to be Tea Bagged before He Reaches Middle School unless Someone Breaks the Ball Cycle

Conan: Wait a minute. Your story's changing. You went from your sister stole your teddy bear — which is a great blues song, by the way — to your sister didn't really take your teddy bear just pushed your teddy bear off the bed and you caught it.


I've got to be honest with you, Summer. This isn't the most terrible story I've ever heard. And I've heard some bad things.


What's that?


Summer: It is when you live it.

Of course, the kid with the most terrible story to tell — the kid born to sing the blues — is a black kid.

Nathaniel, I feel you, brother.

via Jezebel

Fat People Know How to Live

I love Sandwich Monday, the day when the Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me crew tries some godawful creation for my listening pleasure. For instance, they tried the Doritos Locos Taco a couple of weeks ago, and lived to tell the tale.

Eva: Everything about this is disgusting, and I love it.


Peter: I don't like it. I open my mouth and take a breath before biting it, and get a lungful of powder. It's part taco, part asthma inhaler.


Eva: Dorito's orange powder: The fat man's cocaine.

Then, this must be the fat man's kryptonite.

Tomato-Tomahto

Alex: This term for a long-handled gardening tool can also mean an immoral pleasure seeker. Ken?


Ken: What's a 'ho'?


Alex: No.

We've checked with the judges. Ken, we're going to give you that one.

I'm Cool Either Way

Make the Change: To Pepsi or to Hot, Thrusting Man Meat! The choice is yours!

“Africa” Is a Really Bad Song. Steve Almond Proves It and Shows You the Math

Steve Almond: My name is Steve Almond, but I come to you on behalf of Toto.


Duke Ellington once famously declared that there are two kinds of music: good music and bad music and by “bad music,” I mean specifically the song I Bless the Rain Down in Africa by Toto.


Ellington died two years before Toto formed as a band which I think speaks to his prescience.


What makes I Bless the Rain Down in Africa so bad? Mostly, it's the lyrics; also, the instrumentation, the vocals, and that virulent, jazz-like melody — which, despite the manifest wretchedness of everything I just mentioned, assures that you are still, as you sit there listening to me insult I Bless the Rain Down in Africa, sort of grooving to it, sort of digging it, sort of bathing in the buttery memory of sixth grade or tenth grade or hand jobs or lip gloss and really actually remembering or rediscovering how much you love I Bless the Rain Down in Africa, even as you're hating yourself for this love. It's complicated.


And so are its lyrics:

I hear the drums echoing tonight
But she hears only whisper of some quiet conversation.
She coming in 12:30 flight.
The moonlit wings reflect the stars that guide me toward salvation


I stopped an old man along way,
Hoping to find a some long-forgotten words or ancient melodies.
He turned to me as if to say,
“Hurry, boy, it's waiting there for you.”

It's true: all Africans of an advanced age are filled with long-forgotten words and ancient melodies. It's equally true and sadly true that all African Americans of my age, an less advanced age, are full of shit. I suspect that's why they shipped our ancestors off to American in the first place: they could see our fates. Knowing how I am not one to let things go, you should have no trouble believing me when I say I suspect two of the long-forgotten words of the African ancients are “I'm sorry?”

“Well, I Can Tell by the Way She Use Her Walk…”

They say having sex gives you a spring in your step — and it seems it's actually true.


Belgian researchers watched videos of women walking, and were able to tell whether they regularly had orgasms from intercourse.


At the Universiti Catholique de Louvain, Institut d'itudes de la famille et de la sexualiti, Louvain-la-Neuve, Belgium, they set about proving the theory right.


They took women with known histories of either vaginal orgasm or inability to orgasm from sex and videotaped them walking on the street, and their orgasmic status was judged by sexologists blind to their history.


In the sample of healthy young Belgian women, half of whom were vaginally orgasmic, history of vaginal orgasm that was triggered solely by penile-vaginal intercourse, was diagnosable at far better than chance.


The researchers think that, as well as having an effect on people's mental health, orgasms can 'loosen' muscle groups.…


The present study examines the association of general everyday body movement with history of vaginal orgasm.


…Clitoral orgasm history was unrelated to both ratings and to vaginal orgasm history. Exploratory analyses suggest that greater pelvic and vertebral rotation and stride length might be characteristic of the gait of women who have experienced vaginal orgasm.


The discerning observer may infer women's experience of vaginal orgasm from a gait that comprises fluidity, energy, sensuality, freedom, and absence of both flaccid and locked muscles.

Dear Belgian researchers,

My mutant power is the ability to tell whether or not a woman is wearing a thong. I say that to give you context for why I am presently kneeling in humble submission: Your kung fu is superior to mine in every way.

In admiration,

Biff Loman