Caution: clips may suddenly break into Spin Doctors without sufficient warning.**

For the record, Carey sent me this AFTER my comment about Pooh.
(long form wait for the middle|short form, thanks Mike)

Somehow it's good to know Tigger's got my back on this argument, but bad to know that if he's behind me, he may bounce.

** Admittedly, there may be no sufficient warning for that, but...

During my great-aunt's 90th birthday party today, I'm pretty sure I saw something that I would have figured only was available in Hell's Gift Shop, which should be in Breezewood:

An animated snowman, angrily gesticulating with a lit Christmas tree in one hand, dancing around singing "Ice Ice Baby." Even worse, the kids had been playing with it so long they broke a wire in it preventing it from being turned off.

I'm going to have that as nightmare fuel for a while.

"Bother!" said Pooh, as he loaded another clip into his Uzi.
It's not quite SWAT Team Teddy, but frankly, what is? (via Boingboing)

1. I got to see all ten episodes of the Jeopardy! College Championship. My mother hustled up 8 tickets, and I was able, through judicious trades and linejumping, to get myself and my father in. Its kind of cool when you can get your father to get to do something mildly against the rules (jumping lines to stay on the ground level for the finals), even if they are clearly not enforcing it. And they weren't.
2. Understood lesson of watching four taping sessions: It's easy to look like a pro, a trooper, a showman when the same fifteen questions get asked of you every session. Trebek and Johnny Gilbert, both showmen. Sometimes I worry I'm approaching that with moderating.
3. After Saturday night, we compared notes, and I missed two key facts. I wasn't sure about exactly who had played quiz bowl before, I knew about Elliot (Kermin) and Casey, but I didn't have Columbia completely pegged. I suspected she had played quiz bowl, but didn't know. My second mistake in analysis was not realizing that they wouldn't set the semifinals. I figured they'd pull something to guarantee a local finalist, and the three choices were CMU, WVU, or Dickinson (she had played in an HS tournament we hosted). I figured they'd smack all three of them together in one match. Oh, well, everything else we discussed we had right, right down to guessing they'd have a Pittsburgh category, and a basketball category.
4. It used to be when I got nervous about things, the temperature of my extremities dropped. Well, this showed a new tic. For some reason, during the finals, I started rocking back and forth like Leo Mazzone. What cured this? In the College Hodgepodge category, I looked up to see on the jumbo screen, the smiling face of Keith Olbermann. Olbermann protects us and keeps us safe.
5. One moment you don't get to see on air, just before the final daily double, they had to break. I about doubled over in pain. I immediately realized that Ari could have pulled it. Hit the impending Daily Double, then risk more than Elliott could have in Final Jeopardy, and he would have had it. And then the waiting began. We had had several "breaks" from regular play during the two days, but none like this one. This one was agonizing and seemed to take forever. And then, just as suddenly... Boom..."No, sorry." Game. Set. Match.
6. Understood lession of watching four tapings: I think I have the rhythm down now. You don't really get to see the lights on the sides of the board on TV. If you can watch a game live, do so.
7. After the tournament, I left him a message. "Congratulations, now you get to play Ken." I got him gooood.

From the Grape...Grapes department,


this discussion of Butterfinger Crisp:

" They are SO great. Wafers layered with a creamy version of the butterfinger peanut butter. I would marry them if I could."

Correct me if I'm wrong but wouldn't a creamy version of the Butterfinger peanut butter be... peanut butter?

And how exactly does something with the creamy version of butterfinger peanut butter become Butterfinger CRISP?

I don't think I could eat this. It makes my brain hurt.

Two bits from Sunday.

1. My parents have finally adopted a cat for domestic purposes. Gracie, the cat in question has been eating at their place for at least six years, but it's only in the past couple months that she's been let in the house. This is typically how they end up becoming pets. She's only been allowed in because her persistent travelling companion, Nick, has moved over to my aunt's house. Nick was the son of an earlier local cat, Boots, and when he was a kitten, a small child of the neighborhood had called him "Little Boots", which of course made me lose it every time I saw the cat. Nick has also remarkably Caligulike in his treatment of the local wildlife, so he can't come in. Gracie is taking to the kitchen nicely, though she is a hugely fat kitty. My mother has actually put her on a diet regimen, and initiated an exercise program involving a meter stick and a shoelace, that I have dubbed "cat fishing." Contrary to the rules of the web, I probably won't initiate catblogging as a result, unless of course we can get her on the linoleum to do it. Kitty spinout is always quality video.

2. The wild turkeys which wander around outside are apparently getting smarter. My mother reports that they've developed a method of self-feeding. They congregate around a tree that has a milk jug bird feeder hanging from a branch. One of them then flies up (okay, as much as these guys can fly up), and knocks the underside of the feeder. Some seed then spills out, and they feed. Then another turkey does the same. Yes, turkeys have independently invented the pinata. This I will film if I get a chance.

Continuing along on the lard/Monster Thickburger/Krispy Kreme in a glass thread: I missed this which seems to be promising Chocolard...in a cup.

If I ever decide to go into the fast food business, my slogan has to be "How good is our food? We're going to kill you, and you'll pay for the privilege."

Please note this has nothing to do with Ron Artest:

Okay, I'm a little weirded out now.
Came home from the tournament and found this had happened. I'll be spending a little while not thinking of anything.

Update: Insult to injury, the Post-Gazette can't even get the poor guy's job right. They are currently listing him as the "visiting coach" in their section headline.

Don't even try to understand this.
A notion that just flew through my head:

"The only reason people can bet on jai-alai is tradition. If Hungry Hungry Hippos had been around at that time, we'd be able to lay $20 on a Henry-Homer-Happy trifecta."

For a similar analogue: substitute chemin de fer and Cootie into the argument.

Key quote of this article: "Yet, all it takes to own an ABA franchise is $10,000 and a business plan. Or, as Newman put it, 'about the same as it is to open a McDonald's franchise.'"

Some would say, having seen them in action, even the second part is optional.

Why does this merger feel remarkably like two men who can't swim lashing themselves together in the ocean?

I'll just remind you again. Get a bulk eraser now before it becomes illegal, and you become another piece of livestock. And it might not be a bad idea to stock up on pen and pencils, after all they could concievably infringe.

Meanwhile: I just have to note a couple of things here: WATCH released their 10 worst toys for kids.

1. While I'll grant them the possibility of a choking hazard, I've got to say that, were I a parent purchasing something called Pound-A-Ball with included mallet, my primary worry would be actual truth in product naming.

2. Please note where these little beauties are made. Irwin, PA. Not only near me, but a town named for Irwin Mainway!

3. Clearly, like fat chicks, bears do not like being made fun of for wearing party hats, especially if, as it looks like here, they are forced to do so. Thus in their own stuffed passive aggressive way, they bring along unsafe miniature packages...OF DEATH! Also note this toy, with a "teddy bear surprise inside!" Again, it's not good to get on the bad side of teddy bears.

4. Here we see the sawed-off shotgun principle in action: just because you make the switchblade 4 times normal size doesn't suddenly make it safe.

Helpful teaching lesson number 4: How to demonstrate the contrapositive:

If P then Q : They're happy because they eat lard.

Contrapositive: If not Q then not P: They cannot eat lard, therefore they are not happy.

Article also recommended for the phrase: "A block of lard makes an excellent skating rink for insects."

Two bits on chain food.

1. For the record: Fat in this: 107 grams. Fat in a stick of butter: 88 grams. Sadly, I might eat one, if I was planning to eat nothing else for the week for the week but elm bark.

2. Am I losing my mind or does the Burger King chicken fight ads make it the first national pro-cockfighting ad campaign in quite a while?

Good Frickin' Lord!
I only know of one force on earth that can stop what this headline promises. We must raise the zombie corpse of Willie Stargell.

Alert the prothonotary.

Apparently it's now a rule. Everyone I know gets will get press coverage before me. Expect a bigger report on this later in the month. (Like a lot of people, I managed to get in to watch all the taping sessions.)

Look folks, I don't even follow the NBA much, but nothing says, "Go to FraughtWatch, Go Directly to FraughtWatch, do not pass go, do not collect $200" quite like saying "I want to be the next Shaq. Shaq as rapper I mean."

All right. If we do do this, there's got to be some ground rules:

1. I realize it isn't necessary to move, but having seen previous holders of the office violate this heavily (Having families in both Washington PA and DC, not telling each other about the other, etc.), I'm inclined to follow the spirit of the position.

2. Running on the Mascot Party banner mustn't preclude me from also taking a shot at the Republican nomination. (I'm certainly not the ideal candidate of the party, but since I seriously doubt anyone's going to challenge, it's "Hey, free party nomination.")

3. I'm not running in a bear suit. Why? Western Pennsylvania in the fall, a rural district with lots of hunters, and me walking up to people in their homes while in a bear suit. If this isn't a recipe for my obit to end up with a "DUMBASS" tag on Fark, I don't know what is.

4. If I do this, I have to play this to win, I have to play this honestly, and I have to be myself. That doesn't mean I can't apply my sense of the absurd to it. What does that mean? I can't run away from the record you see here, but fortunately most times when I sound crazy, I'm right. And believe me, when you see the slogans I cook up, you'll want a t-shirt.

I already know I'd be playing a long, long shot. I'd be running, as a moderate Republican, ever so slightly to the left of an established Democrat. He'd have the advantage of incumbency, and the party. The best I can logically hope for is to put a scare in an establishment more interested in scoring political points than representing the interest of all the people. Is that worth screwing my life up? I'm still running 30-70 against.

Clearly there's a market for these, however I'm at a loss. Turkey and gravy merely baffled me. Carbonated Green Bean Casserole soda, however, made me throw up a little in my mouth. I really would like to try the cranberry, but not at the cost of buying the rest as a set. Okay, not even at the cost of having to look at the others. That green bean thing is grossing me out.

In other news from Craig, clearly the Mascot Party missed out on an opportunity.

Some people call him Maurice because he speaks of the pompetus of fraught.

Clearly, I snooze, I lose.
Backman fired by D-Backs