Ewww
I like Halloween as much as the next guy, but this grisly repast is way beyond my gag factor.
Wes Phillips
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You'll Lose Your Trousers With the Depreciation
Jeremy Clarkson rightly rogers the Volvo S80 SE Sport. This is auto reviewing as a contact sport.
The Moby Quotient
Bill Wyman (no, not that one) calculates the sell-out factor for when musicians whore out—um, I mean, lease—their muse.
In Search of the Perfect Cure
I was raised in Virginia, so for me, the perfect ham is a Smithfield-cured ham. I think I was 21 before I ever tasted that bland concoction sold at delis as "ham." It might be pork, but ham it am't.
Smells Like Herr Hitler
Tony Perrottet tells us that Spike Jones was closer to being right than we suspected.
Missing Black Holes Located
They're always in the last place you look.
iPod Death Clock
Oh boy! Your iPod is going to die, too. Want to know when?
The Death Clock
Good news! You're going to die—want to find out when?
Not Golden, Pointed!
Dr. Lajos Nagy offers cosmetic surgery that shapes your pinnae to points. Why? I'll let the good doctor tell you.
Sandbox Soldiers
I've written before about my immense regard for Garry Trudeau's The Sandbox milblog. Today, Owen Powell (aka SGT Roy Batty) posts about his experiences in DC promoting the book Dunesbury.com's The Sandbox, visiting the Pentagon, the Vietnam memorial, and Walter Reed Hospital.