Non-Nude News For You

In the first test of my O:POA, I will point out that another semi flipped over on I-35 yesterday. I don't think anyone died, or I'd be able to find a story on it. I just needed to point that out.

Whoa! Yesterday the Supreme Court said that state laws allowing "medical marijuana" are a violation of the Federal Government's fuhrership over interstate commerce. Ill potheads are sad, but they should take heart -- this ruling prevents states from making whatever crazy commerce laws they want, right? There are a bunch of positive and negative editorials about the decision on Google News right now, divided mainly by whether or not they think smoking pot counts as commerce between the states. I...don't care.

Speaking of laziness, I overslept this morning. It was sort of a classic oversleeping -- I was too tired and my alarm just didn't wake me until I was ready to be awakened. Because of this, my life is an hour late today. Everything's gotta be pushed back an hour. I'm like on lazy person's daylight savings time or something.

Australio-Chinese relations are in jeopardy as Australia finds out there are like 1000 Chinese spys "walking about" the Australian countryside. Apparently, the two countries have been lucratively trading for quite some time. My question: Do we (the free world) really need China? More and more they seem like the aliens in Mars Attacks, just a bunch of murderous bastards who are pretending (not very well) to be peaceful. I mean, they're communists who: outlaw religions, enforce conformity, crush any democratic freedoms, and suck all the gas out of the market, driving prices up. Why is nobody talking about this?

Imagine waking up to a human leg in your yard. Then imagine the set of circumstances that would lead you to try to stow away in the wheel well of a plane. Now put those two imaginations together and you get this. Crazy.

Since gaining its independence in 1825, Bolivia has had more than 200 coups and counter-coups. Today the capital of Bolivia, La Paz, lies embroiled in one of them. Can't a country of 9 million people that produces up to 1/3 of the world's cocaine just get along? We've got cities that are bigger than that. Sheesh. What a mess. (note -- nearly every sentence in that news story is great, you should really check it out).

Anne Bankroft's leg died at age 73 today. You know, Jill and I saw the last half of The Graduate a couple of weeks ago on AMC and it wasn't half bad. Sure, the Simon and Garfunkel stalker-music was a little overwhelming, and the daughter's actions made no sense (maybe I missed this -- why did she like Dustin Hoffman's character in the first place? Did he save her from a burning building at the beginning of the movie?), but it was pretty good, and Anne Bankroft was a big reason for that. She captured the essence of a stockinged leg attached to an unhinged lady. Epth Nation salutes Anne's leg as well as the rest of her, born Anna Maria Louise Italiano. Here's a good summary of the story.

The Apocalypse the NBA so deftly avoided last year is now upon us -- San Antonio vs. Detroit, two defensive-minded and boring teams in the NBA Finals. The good news for the NBA is that the Heat-Pistons Game 7 was the highest rated conference final game in history. The bad news is that these two teams will be grinding out games with scores like 72-65 and 78-70, causing potential NBA fans to throw up and change the channel. This is a series for NBA purists, who like to see a boxing match erupt on the low blocks and crisp passing on the outside, leading to a forced shot with 2 seconds left on the shot clock. Most experts are predicting Spurs in 6. So do I. No more sports prediction iconoclasm for me, at least for a while.

Ever since I saw that Alias episode with the Russian spies living in that fake US neighborhood, delivering pizzas has never been the same. Every time I deliver to a house with a young family that's just a little too stereotypically American -- cute couple, two kids, pool, "God Bless America" periphernalia lining the walls -- I think they might secretly be Russian spies. I imagine them closing the door and saying stuff to each other in Russian, then taking the pizza downstairs and eating it on a table that has a large battle map of their neighborhood. They then plan which house they're going to bomb next -- all while eating Papa John's pizza and listening to Elvis on the stereo. Yeah, sometimes my imagination gets away from me.