Thanks to Boortz we learn about this YouTube item.

Don’t watch with cat lovers in the room. Don’t watch because…you will find yourself surprisingly unable to stop laughing. She’s your girlfriend, isn’t she? She’s known Mister Fluffy longer than you, right? Okay then DON’T CLICK. There will be other evenings you can spend on the couch later on. Sometimes domestic harmony is a good thing.

Via This cool Microsoft security guy, several hundreds of things you didn’t know about Jack Bauer. When he was a kid, Jack Bauer tortured his Mom to find out what he was getting for Christmas. Jack Bauer CAN divide by zero, and he knows the last four digits of Pi, too. You pray to God; God prays to Jack Bauer. Chuck Norris wears a beard to hide the scar he got from Jack Bauer.

I finally found it. Great googley moogley, it’s good to see this again after all these years.

Funny stuff.

Lynx ads are funny. I like Lynx ads.

Title says it all. These are high-tech hardware and software products, some of them pretty interesting. One or two I’m actually thinking about buying, now that I know they’re out there.

I’ll just throw this one in, it’s a binary editor that’s also on my list. And two outliners, here and here, that I’m evaluating. I’m in the final stages on those and I’m pretty pleased with the results. Expecting to purchase one or the other soon, maybe both.

Enjoy.

From my old stomping grounds in Kirkland, WA:

For years, the neighbors have been complaining that Thomas H. Stone, 67, was feeding rats at his suburban Seattle home. They apparently won’t have to worry about that anymore…

C’mon, are you sure you really wanna click this?

Well, after being forced to discuss that latest wave of atrocities from Iraq, I just want to put up something to make me feel good about military stuff again. And here it is, the CV9040 Infantry Fighting Vehicle, equipped with a 40mm cannon that can do…well, lots of stuff. The artillery world is chock full of 120mm bigots who think anything less is too lightweight to do anything, and if they’ve got their minds made up on that, they need to see this.

Too big.

Too small.

Update 12/13/06: Regarding the second of those two, The Saloon has a post up on the same subject. A very short one. Although it should be noted, it’s a little cold in here.

Update 12/19/06: Just right, and getting moreso.

Via Miss Cellania:

Guy goes into a gun store. He tells the salesman he’s going moose hunting in Alaska. He needs to know what kind of handgun he should carry in case he runs into a bear.

The salesman says, “Carry any handgun you want. But if you’re going to shoot a bear with it, be sure to grind off the front sight.”

The customer looks perplexed. “Why should I grind off the front sight?”

“That way it won’t hurt so bad when the bear takes it away and shoves it up your ass.”

Ah, now this is my kind of thing. Here we have a genre that is understood to be G rated and oggling at the coquettish star material is decidedly inappropriate…or expected to be inappropriate, anyway. Nevertheless, time after time the message has been concocted, passed to the parents on a covert channel squarely over the kids’ heads, and someone has taken the effort to pick up on the signals and compare them from one movie to the next. Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s really got it going on?

It’s even original. And, where it is called-for, tasteful; due consideration is given as to whether Ariel might be underage. And Jessica Rabbit wins the top spot, as one would expect.

One of the readers posts an interesting question: “Do Pixar babes count now that Disney owns Pixar?” You know, I don’t see how they couldn’t. Pixar has indulged in the “toss this joke at the parents and go over the kids’ head” thing far more than the parent company has, and some of the Pixar babes are just…wow. Elastigirl, of course, stands alone as the only female cartoon character who distracted me from what was going on in the rest of the movie.

And it goes without saying: Once we branch out into the world beyond Disney movies, nobody is on par with “Alice,” Dennis Mitchell’s mom. Yummy. But that almost gets into a different subject.

Why did this race car driver crash?

A new book, titled “Who Really Cares” by Arthur C. Brooks examines the actual behavior of liberals and conservatives when it comes to donating their own time, money, or blood for the benefit of others. It is remarkable that beliefs on this subject should have become conventional, if not set in concrete, for decades before anyone bothered to check these beliefs against facts.

What are those facts?

People who identify themselves as conservatives donate money to charity more often than people who identify themselves as liberals. They donate more money and a higher percentage of their incomes.

Huh.

It is not that conservatives have more money. Liberal families average 6 percent higher incomes than conservative families.

Hmm. Wonder when that happened.

Conservatives not only donate more money to charity than liberals do, conservatives volunteer more time as well. More conservatives than liberals also donate blood. According to Professor Brooks: “If liberals and moderates gave blood at the same rate as conservatives, the blood supply of the United States would jump about 45 percent.”

Rrrr?

Read the whole thing. Meanwhile, Slate Reader moodyguppy shares further insight that raises similar questions.

You can find this on the innernets, but it came in by e-mail so linking is unneeded and rather pointless.

The Best Divorce Letter Ever Written

I know the counselor said we shouldn’t contact each other during our “cooling off” period, but I couldn’t wait anymore. The day you left, I swore I’d never talk to you again. But that was just the wounded little boy in me talking.

Still, I never wanted to be the first one to make contact. In my fantasies, it was always you who would come crawling back to me. I guess my pride needed that.

But now I see that my pride’s cost me a lot of things. I’m tired of pretending I don’t miss you. I don’t care about looking bad anymore. I don’t care who makes the first move as long as one of us does.

Maybe it’s time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt. And this is what my heart says: “There’s no one like you, Connie. “I look for you in the eyes and breasts of every woman I see, but they’re not you. They’re not even close. Two weeks ago, I met this girl at ” Hooters” and brought her home with me. I don’t say this to hurt you, but just to illustrate the depth of my desperation.

She was young, maybe 19; with one of those perfect bodies that only youth and maybe a childhood spent ice skating can give you. I mean, just a perfect body. Tits like you wouldn’t believe and an ass that just wouldn’t quit. Every man’s dream, right? But as I sat on the couch being blown by this stunner, I thought, look at the stuff we’ve made important in our lives. It’s all so superficial.

What does a perfect body mean? Does it make her better in bed? Well, in this case, yes, but you see what I’m getting at. Does it make her a better person? Does she have a better heart than my moderately attractive Connie? I doubt it. And I’d never really thought of that before.

I don’t know, maybe I’m just growing up a little. Later, after I’d tossed her about a half a pint of throat yogurt, I found myself thinking, “Why do I feel so drained and empty?” It wasn’t just her flawless technique or her slutty, shameless hunger, but something else. Some nagging feeling of loss. Why did it feel so incomplete? And then it hit me. It didn’t feel the same because you weren’t there to watch. Do you know what I mean?

Nothing feels the same without you. Jesus, Connie, I’m just going crazy without you. And everything I do just reminds me of you.

Do you remember Carol, that single mom we met at the Holiday Inn lounge last year? Well, she dropped by last week with a pan of lasagna. She said she figured I wasn’t eating right without a woman around. I didn’t know what she meant till later, but that’s not the real story.

Anyway, we had a few glasses of wine and the next thing you know, we’re banging away in our old bedroom. And this tart’s a total monster in the sack. She’s giving me everything, you know, like a real women does when she’s not hung up about her weight or her career and whether the kids can hear us. And all of a sudden, she spots the tilting mirror on your grandmother’s old vanity. So she puts it on the floor and we straddle it, right, so we can watch ourselves.

And it’s totally hot, but it makes me sad, too. Cause I can’t help thinking, “Why didn’t Connie ever put the mirror on the floor? We’ve had this old vanity for what, 14 years, and we never used it as a sex toy.”

Saturday, your sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order. I mean, Vicky’s just a kid and all, but she’s got a pretty good head on her shoulders and she’s been a real friend to me during this painful time. She’s given me lots of good advice about you and about women in general. She’s pulling for us to get back together, Connie, she really is. So we’re doing tequila Jell-O shots in a hot bubble bath and talking about happier times. Here’s this teenage girl with the same DNA as you and all I can do is think of how much she looked like you when you were 18. And that just about makes me cry.

And then it turns out your little sister Vicky’s really into the whole anal thing, that gets me to thinking about how many times I pressured you about trying it and how that probably fueled some of the bitterness between us. But do you see how even then, when I’m thrusting inside your baby sister’s cinnamon ring, all I can do is think of you?

It’s true, Connie, In your heart you must know it. Don’t you think we could start over? Just wipe out all the grievances away and start fresh? I think we can.

If you feel the same please, please, please let me know, Otherwise, can you let me know where the fucking remote is.

Your Loving Ex-husband,

Dan

Heh heh. I can relate. No further comment in that area from me, none at all. Just a silly-lookin’ grin.