Not many people would be this brave.

Oh, the horror...the humanity!!!

At 600 mph, testing an F-35 ejector seat is pretty intense.

I hate to say "I told you so", but I've been a fan of breasts for many years, and now I know why. According to this CNN video, which I did not bother to watch, breast-fed kids get better grades. The title of the video makes one thing perfectly clear to me: before a test, put a boob in your mouth. Maybe even multiple boobs. And in case you disagree, I'd like to point out that I was breast-fed as an infant, which means I can never be wrong. Feel free to pass this on to any women in your life who have been stingy in their breast deployment. If they continue on that path, they're against education. Simple as that.

Like all people who don't consult the Bible to solve practical problems, I'm at war with Christmas. I wish people "Happy Holidays" , promote the idea of Santa Claus in order to deflect attention away from the role of the Christ-child, and accentuate the pagan elements of the celebration in favor of the Christian ones, which are in extreme danger with our country maintaining a paltry incidence of Christians at a mere 76%. And why wouldn't I? I stand to gain so much from the effort, I really can't afford not to. But we need a shot in the arm. So I'm mining the great war-mongers of the past for material. What do say, Genghis? How would you attack Christmas?

Genghis Khan: Well, first I'd find a few stores that feature religiously neutral decorations, like holly, wreaths, and maybe even some Kwanzaa stuff, because they'd clearly be part of the war effort. I'd absorb them into my army and ride to a store that has the nerve to wish people "Merry Christmas" when they check out. While riding we'd drag yule logs behind our horses to kick up extra dust and give the appearance of greater numbers. When I arrived at the store, let's say it's a Wal-Mart in Texas, I'd explain to the manager that he can either surrender, or everyone in the store can be killed. Then I'd camp out that night, instructing my soldiers to each light 3 Christmas trees apiece instead of just one, again to give the impression of greater numbers. We'd probably light a few Menorahs as well, just to show how at war with Christmas we really are. Naturally, there would be no praying.

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Christmas. Yeah, we're going there. I never said this would be a smooth ride. Christmas is of course the celebration of the day Jesus was born and placed in a manger because there was "no room at the inn". Seriously?  Who was running this inn? Messianic prophecy or not, it's a couple who had a baby 5 minutes ago, you can't make some space? Hell wouldn't even pull that shit, and we're talking about a place that dedicates an entire high-rise to gleefully forcing glass shards under the eyelids of false witnesses.

Christmas is also the beginning of Christmastide, the so-called 12 days of Christmas, made famous in the song of the same name. Allow me to take a breath before going into this one. Let's think about this. The first 4 days, the singer's "true love" - and I put that in quotations because I'm not sure I buy that designation for reasons I'll explain - gives her (Yeah, her. I've lived so long I stopped counting my age when we went from Roman to Arabic numerals, and I can tell you this: chicks don't buy guys multiple swans. Sorry boys, ain't gonna happen.) a partridge (with tree), 2 turtle doves, 3 french hens, and 4 colly birds. The song seems to suggest that these things are stacked every day, so on the first day it's a partridge in a pear tree, and on the second day it's 2 turtle doves and a second partridge in a pear tree, and so on. I'm going to assume that's not the case, and that each subsequent mentioning of a gift is a reference to the original, and not a duplicate gift. If I'm wrong, then what I took to be merely absurd is actually whatever is above absurd. Preposterous?

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The road to professional sports is one of the most effective sociopath assembly lines in the world. Separated from their peers by talent as kids, pandered to as teenagers, and idolized as adults, today's college and professional athletes know that forgiveness is only one contrite press conference away. We keep track of their antisocial behavior and marvel at their sociopathleticism in the Sociopathlete Round-Up.

Sociopathlete: Lawrence Taylor, former Linebacker, New York Giants
The real LT appeared in court the other day to claim that police violated his rights when they entered a hotel room he was sleeping in to seize evidence that he had paid a sixteen-year-old runaway $300 for sex. Court papers in a related but separate case say he admitted to sex acts with the girl. What they don't say is that LT didn't even practice soliciting prostitutes during the week, he just showed up on soliciting-prostitutes-day and made it happen. But at least he's taking it seriously.

Sociopathlete: Albert Haynesworth, Defensive Lineman, Washington Redskins
Brett Favre made the list last time for doing his job. Haynesworth makes it for refusing to do his. Coach Mike Shanahan suspended him for the final four games of the season without pay. Haynesworth didn't want to play nose tackle in the team's 3-4 defense. But he also didn't want to find a new team and give up his 21 million dollar contract bonus. So he just stayed on, but also didn't do his job - the best of both worlds. He also needed 10 days to pass a conditioning test at the start of training camp, showing that you don't need athleticism to have sociopathleticism.

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I have a feeling, they had no idea what they were doing.

Well, it's happened again. You've blasted through another year and suddenly it's Thanksgiving again. We do a big Thanksgiving down here. It's a good holiday for a diverse crowd, since it's secular and you don't really need to explain much, even to people who have never heard of it. Have a big feast, open a few bottles of wine. Everybody "gets it". And holidays that center around cooking are big in Hell, since heat is easy to come by in a lake of fire that burns hotter than the hottest earthly flame.

I'm hosting this year like I always do. It used to be a real treat for everyone to come to my place, since I lived in the most exclusive neighborhood in all of Hell. Guests would make jokes like "What's the cover charge going to be?" But while my neighborhood was nice when I moved in, it's pretty shitty now. One of the hazards of eternity, I guess, unless you want to move every hundred years. Now the place is really run down and all the businesses have left. I knew we'd hit the skids when I drove by a Souplantation with my neighbor Ron and he said, without irony, "It would be really cool if we could get one of those". It's come to that. Now people make jokes like "Yeah, we'll be there, just let me get my flak jacket out of the attic".

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Strongest argument for wearing your seat-belt, ever.

Considering the stress involved, I'm surprised there's much humor in Formula 1 racing.

Nice work

This weekend Lindsay Lohan went to the beach to test out the new beer gut she had installed in her stomach early that day. It can hold 3.5 more liters of alcohol and about 10 more Big Macs than her regular God-made stomach.

(via The Superficial)