Saturday, May 27, 2006

well, we're back. it's a cold, cold entity sending out this message, somehow close to the feelings Voyager II must feel right about now. Thankfully, we're safely on earth, for now. In the midst of catastrophe, on the edge of disaster, and in an enigma wrapped inside a puzzle buried under a riddle, the best we can hope for is good weather and good sense. Take care, and enjoy the weekend.

 

Thursday, March 09, 2006


Is there life on, uh, Enceladus?

Maybe, says NASA. One of Saturn's numerous moons is apparently spewing liquid water, in geyser form, out from under its surface. Along with beer, water, as we all know, is essential to life.

That's all for today.

 

Friday, March 03, 2006


Before the madness known as Birthdaypalooza takes hold of us all, and we find it unable to update the entire weekend due to a prolonged period of intoxication punctuated only by spurts of academic productivity, we wish to end the week with a few news items we find pressing.

Dr. Phil is selling his Ferrari. And his Porsche.

A groupie who was fucked by Kid Rock and Scott Stapp, which is fucking gross, is suing Mr. White Trash himself. For "invasion of privacy". We seem to remember she was one of the girls who participated in directing a money shot. We could be wrong.

A double Nip nipple slip, courtesy of Shizuka Arakawa, Japan's golden girl.

"The anklet is not working; the chemical castration is not working: he must be imprisoned." Read on.

That's a wrap. We invite everyone who can attend to the final Birthdaypalooza, maybe ever, certainly the last on this campus. 1125 Davis. E-3. Ask for booze.

 

Friday, February 17, 2006


If you guys haven't seen it yet, here's hoping this doesn't cause the destruction of our apartment in Chicago, or our apartment in Brooklyn. Not that it was hard to come across, but seeing as we've done well with current events and managed to avoid this whole completely ludicrous issue, why don't we add some gasoline to the burning embassy?

 


Now that we've brought it up, however, it might be worth posting the latest condition of Harry Whittington, in glorious yellow, purple and black. Yuck. At least he still gets to keep both eyes, and will probably be handed an ambassadorship down the line. Peppered by federal buckshot, no more parking tickets, ever. Sounds like a fair trade to us, yeah?

Speaking of parking tickets, a good Wisconsin friend of mine today received not a parking ticket while her car was left in a no-parking zone, but instead a kindly note from some pedestrian passer-by: "No parking here, asshole. Stupid Cheesehead."

That about sums up Evanston, no?

 


Well sure, the world's going to hell in a taxi, but wow, 33-foot waves is definitely a big enough story to trump violent, rampaging cartoonist protestors or seeing pictures of that dude Dick Cheney blasted in the face. Behold, in the tradition of The Poseidon Adventure, The Abyss: Director's Cut, and Krakatoa, East of Java, we bring you enough waverunning action to scare a tsunami of readers into empathy and ecstasy.

 

Monday, February 13, 2006



Today, we lament the passing of author Peter Benchley, who wrote the excellent novel Jaws, giving Spielberg the basis to make one of the greatest films of all time. He was 65. Although his later works are, in our opinion, of a lesser value, Jaws makes a fascinating read; a much darker, sinister story than the movie. Case in point: Hooper, played by Richard Dreyfuss, survives in the movie, but in the novel meets a far more horrible fate. Pick up the book and find out.

 

Thursday, February 09, 2006


Last one of the day, we promise-- this one's a good one. We know how much you all love Basic Instinct-- hell, it's probably in everyone's top 50, if only for those gnarly Lotuses Sharon Stone drives-- oh yeah, and all the sex and violence. Well, if you want more violence, a lot more sex, and feel like trading up to a C8 Laviolette (that's a car), well, my friends, we present to you, pirated footage from the next chapter in the Tramel saga-- and no swishy Michael Douglass ass this time! Rock it, hard!

 


STOP THE PRESS!

In more, shall we say, constructive news events concerning tall buildings today, we present to you Louisville, Kentucky's newest, largest, and weirdest fucking building ever. Sort of a smaller, more disjointed-looking replica of the Sears Tower. Admittedly, it's not exactly gracefull. Neither is eating barbequed ribs with both hands and a mouth slathered in sauce, but that's popular in most of the Blue Grass state as well.

However, we're sure the Louisville skyline could use some sort of a boost, and it's sure to enrage many architects, although probably not Rem Koolhaas.

But it's cool, it's cool. We're gonna deal with it. Oh yes, we're gonna deal with it.

 


Ann Coulter's got something to say about rioting Muslims.

"The rioting Muslims claim they are upset because Islam prohibits any depictions of Muhammad — though the text is ambiguous on beheadings, suicide bombings and flying planes into skyscrapers."

and more...

Riots, bombings, thwarted terrorist attacks... wait wait, what was that last one? Some skyscraper news, finally. LA's tallest building, the one destroyed by evil aliens in Independence Day, was apparantly targeted for real aeriel destruction using the time-tested method of, as Coulter puts it, "flying planes into skyscrapers". Now, the building is only 1,018 feet tall-- tallest building west of the Mississippi River, but really, not terribly impressive. Chicago is once again overlooked. Sears Tower, anyone? Not that we condone any terrorist activity here, but you can almost imagine passive-aggressive Chicagoans muttering, "Why don't any terrorists want to blow our shit up?"

On top of which, the Sears Tower would be a much easier target to hit, located on the West Loop in a less dense part of the city. Maybe they didn't have the Windy City programmed into their Flight Simulator: Jihad Edition computer game.

But enough of that. The real story today is--------- no more bucket boys!

Chicago has voted on a new ordinance prohibiting where and when street performers can, uh, perform, because high-rise residents of Michigan Ave. have been complaining about "excruciating noise levels" and complaining that dude with the saxophone only plays the same two songs. I didn't know sound could carry up 50 stories, but apparantly it can, and quite strongly, too.

The bucket boys, as they are populalry known, are a group of kids who smash plastic buckets with drumsticks in rythem. Strong rythems. Good rythems. Money-stuffing good rythems. But no more. Where shall they go? No one knows, although it's unlikely the Pritzker Pavillion will be opening it's plexiglass doors anytime soon.

 

Wednesday, February 01, 2006