Olsen Twins College Rumor is Revealed as Bitter Web Hoax

Claims that Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen have applied and been admitted to various colleges, including Rochester Institute of Technology, University of Cincinnati, University of Miami and University of Dayton, have run rampant on the Web this week.
The colleges’ admissions boards were swamped with calls when emails linked to a phony CNN Website announced the Olsens had been admitted to various schools. The site has since been removed from the Web.
An email announcing the Olsens’ acceptance to Rochester Institute of Technology in said the twins picked the school for its strong academic reputation and excellent business program. Pagnotta was falsely quoted as saying the girls were looking “for a school where they would not be distracted by the glitz of Hollywood and could focus on long term career goals.”
Instead, the former Full House stars, who are only high school juniors, are “studying for their SATs,” says the real Pagnotta.

Cheech & Chong Reunion is possible. Script by Rae Dawn.

The Palo Alto Elks lodge will close Saturday after six decades as a community fixture.

The grand lodge ordered the shutdown after a review of the struggling chapter’s finances.
Grand Exalted Ruler Randal McClellan, based in Watsonville, on Tuesday ordered the lodge and bar closed and the locks changed. No more meetings. No more shooting pool or soaking in the whirlpool. No more private parties.

Libby Davies, member of Parliament for the NDP, said that Canadian inspectors should inspect the US for weapons of mass destruction.

More here

Below is the response of a San Francisco activist. It’s being taken seriously, but I wonder if there’s some oblique sarcasm in the message…
—–
From: Brad Cecil
Reply-To: brad@cecil.net
To: daviel@parl.gc.ca
Subject: inspect the US for weapons of mass destruction
Date: Thu, 30 Jan 2003 16:38:41 -0800

Hello Libby –

I just read that you want to inspect the US for weapons of mass destruction. Great idea!

You are, of course, correct that America is very, very dangerous.

We American would love to see you crusading across America looking for weapons of mass destruction. The only problem is that such weapons can be found in virtually every American household. Don’t you Canucks ever watch COPS? We are heavily armed and extremely dangerous. Heck, my neighbor has enough weapons and ammo to take over a small Latin American country (or perhaps a rural Canadian province)!

In Bush’s State of the Union Tuesday night, I don’t recall him ever stating that America should consult Canada to determine what we should do in Iraq. That is because Canada is largely irrelevant, and YOUR opinion regarding our actions there, Libby, is entirely insignificant. Frankly, the only thing worse than W telling lies to Americans so that he can wage a war he so desperately wants, is some Canadian political hack trying her best to make headlines by making off the wall statements. At best, you rivialize the efforts by REAL policy makers who may be opposed to this war. At worst, you make their efforts much more difficult by associating their opinions to that of a jackass like yourself.

Libby, nobody in the real America gives a damn what you think about us — not even the those of us that are opposed to Bush’s war! Please go back to Vancouver and try to avoid the domain of world dominance and power economics. Rather, stick to the issues that you actually may have a valid opinion on — you know, like whether to put a new traffic light on Main Street, when to have the bake sale to fund the new community curling rink, or how to get the money to repaint the Seabus terminal.

Leave world politics to the big boys, Libby.

Your friend and supremely powerful neighbor –
“Uncle Sam”

420 COOKING LESSONS FOR 420

420 COOKING LESSONS FOR 420

DO YOU HAVE PERMISSION BUT DON’T QUITE WHAT TO DO WITH IT?

I COME TO YOUR HOUSE AND TEACH YOU BASIC FOOD PREPERATION USING THE HERB OR NOT.

HEALTHY DELICIOUS RECIPES THAT PACK A POWER PUNCH

EVENINGS AND WEEKENDS

Huh?

Update: Okay, I get it. It’s about pot. It’s still a strange ad.

Tags: 420, cannabis, craiglist, herb, marijuana, pot

All Star Clown Club Members

Abra Cadabra
Ah Choo
Auntie Em
Aunt Tillie
Babalou
Beary
Bee Bee
Big Red
Blossom
Bon Bon
Bo Willum
Bubu Lubu
Buddy
L.O. Weez
Fargo
Butterscotch
Buzzy Bee
Calie
Cappy
Captain Jack
Clover
Clumsy Mumsy
Cotton Candy
Cricket
Delly
Dimples
Dizzy Dave
Dizzy Dee
Dr. Pokonose
Ecco
Fizgig
Flip Flop
Flor Rosita
Flower
Flossie
Freckles
Freddie
Gramma Huggs
Happy “O”
Harkey
Honey Bee
IMAX
Jewlz
Jingles
Jo Jo
Ju Wanna
Justa Clown
Kerplunk
Klick Klack
Lalin
Lazy Bean
Liberty
Little Richie
Melody
Mikey G.
Miss Checkers
Mis-Fit Maude
Miss Giggles
Miss Toby
Nic Nac
Patches
Petunia
Pom Mom
Posie
Princess
Rainbow Dottie
Risa
Rosey
Ruffles
Skippy
Snickerdoodle
Solecito
Stix
Spangles
Sugar Bear
Sweet Pea
Tango
Tiki Tiki
Tootie
Tweetie
Uncle Rusty
Whistle Stop
Pockets
Wower
Yochi
Yoo Hoo
Yorkie
Zoozy-Q

More clowns than you can shake a stick at

Buzzzy Bee and L. O. Weez compare notes

Live365 – fluffertraX

fluffertraX premium adult sound is a celebration of the vastly unappreciated adult movie genre. Our radio show takes the high art format, playing pure porn music plus a few surprises, all the time.

Listen to streaming audio of porn music. I’ve got it going right now, and it’s pretty cool.

“I only buy it for the articles”

Here’s a story I wrote back in the early 80s.

The Case of the Fortune Cookie
or
The Way the Cookie Crumbles

by Steve Portigal

Watching on my visiscreen, I could see her pause as she came up to the office. “Barney Gunswallow, Private Investigator,” she mumbled to herself. She opened the door and came in. Preparing myself for a customer, I threw my tube of gin into the deatomizer. Booze turns off customers. Too bad. 2011 was a great year for gin. Of course, it wasn’t real gin. They outlawed that back in 1993 when they found that they could get more energy per litre out of alcohol than gasoline. Mind you, we haven’t done a complete turnaround. I don’t know many people who drink gasoline.

Janine called from the reception area. “Hey boss…”

“Send her in!” I yelled back.

“Wow!” I whispered to myself. As she walked in, my excessive excitement detector turned bright pink and started flashing. I reached under my desk and turned it off.

She was beautiful. She was dressed in a half-size sheer nylon skirt that barely came below her waist. Even overdressed, she was beautiful. She stalked her way over to my desk, cat-like. I stood up.

“Sit down!” she commanded.

I sat down.

“Please sit down Miss uh-uh…” I stammered helplessly.

“The name is Mrs. Smith. And I prefer to stand.”

“Suit yourself.”

Mrs. Smith. What a fake name. Sounded like some foreigner. I mean, it was as about as un-American as apple pie! I watched as she reached into her purse. She pulled her hand out. Partly. A glimpse of silver. Long. Tubular. A barrel. A beam-gun. It was a set-up. The hand came further out of the purse. I dived off the chair. When I hit the floor, I slammed a stud embedded in the desk. A plasti-shield screamed down from the ceiling between her and me.

She stood there as I drew myself up. She glared at me as if I were a bug. Realizing that she was not trying to kill me, and that I had pulled a real nixon, I smiled ruefully. I lifted up the shield.

“Sorry about that. Security is a little lax these days.”

She said nothing, but continued to glare at me.

“This was the gun used to kill my husband,” she declared.

I waited.

“I want you to find the man that killed him.”

She handed me the beam-gun and walked out. I stood there open-mouthed. I watched as she left, un-gentlemanlike thoughts flooding my brain.

When I recovered my dignity and another tube of gin, I set to work. First I examined the gun. It was a standard Colt 3000 megajoule. I whipped out my pocket computer and keyed in the clues. It wanted me to play PACMAN, but I had no time for ancient novelties. I scanned the beam-gun but only found Mrs. Smith’s prints. I entered that into the computer. I then pressed the key marked with a “?”.

The computer said, “INSUFFICIENT DATA FOR MEANINGFUL RESPONSE.”

I swore in twelve interplanetary lingoes.

The computer said, “SEZ YOU, BUSTER.”

I turned it off and continued my investigation. With an uncommon name like Smith he was easy to track down. He was in the FORTUNE 1000000 as a vanadium mine owner. No enemies. Nuthin’. According to the newsbox he left all his money to the Psychosis Foundation. Very interesting. He also owned a bar in Luna City called Cookies. Hmm. Cookie. Kookie. Psychosis. Very, very interesting.

“Hold all my calls, Janine!” I yelled as I stepped into the transporter.

“Sure bo…” she called back as I vanished into the ether.

I never got used to Luna City. Floating spheres are not my idea of transportation. Anyway I flagged one down, hopped in and typed in my credit number.

“WHERE TO, BUD? ”

Wonderful. Old New York. Mechanized even.

“Cookies. And step on it.” I might as well play along.

“WHO D’YA PICK FOR THE GALAXY SERIES? ” it inquired.

“Shaddup and drive!” I snarled.

When we got there I had reaffirmed my vow never to come to Luna City.

I walked into the joint and took a seat. I was surprised by the waitress. It was Mrs. Smith!

“You!” she spat.

“Don’t spit, please,” I said, wiping the spit from my face.

Suddenly she smiled and got up on my table. “Music, electro-maestro!” she yelled.

She began dancing to the sorrowful strains of T42. She was acting downright weird. Kookie even. Kookie. Hey! Kookie. Cookie’s. Psychotic! Mrs. Smith was crackers. Two bricks short of a load. A couple of astros short of a millibleem. Etc., etc.

At this strange outburst, the place emptied. I sat staring. Suddenly, she dived at me, her razor-sharp nails pointed out like steel daggers. I stepped aside and realization hit me like a safe from a window. Mrs. Smith killed her husband because she was loony! Then I realized something else. I was in love with Mrs. Smith.

She ran off into the kitchen. I unholstered my beam-gun hesitantly. Then the lights went out and the airlock hissed shut. The place was deserted except for me and Mrs. Smith. A knife whistled through the artificial air and struck my leg. I yanked it out and wrapped the cut with a serviette. I limped over to a table and took cover. What could I do? How could I kill her if I loved her? The table exploded, throwing me backwards. She must have beamed it.

I grabbed my gun out of the air and crawled to another table. I needed light. I pointed my gun at the phosphorescent ceiling and fired. It glowed crazily with the excess energy. I saw her lurking in the corner. I pointed my gun at her, tensely thinking. What to do? She raised her gun. I knew what to do. I fired. I never miss.

As I limped into the lunar night, I remembered a P.I.’s first rule:

“Your best friend is your gun.”

I hailed a sphere and departed into the blackness.

SJMerc interview with Carol Spinney the man behind the bird – he plays Big Bird and Oscar on Sesame Street.

But if you look at the first year now, it was so crude. It must have shown how bad the rest of TV was at the time. Big Bird looked like a rag bag. The first couple of months on the air, his right arm didn’t work, but we fixed that.

He will be honored at a reception in San Jose this week.

blogwhore 2: the revenge of blogwhore

Blogwhore 2 is a sequel to the first Blogwhore game, where contestants competed to become crowned “Blogwhore” (a dubious, tongue-in-cheek title). They were challenged with many tasks, pushing them to the limits of blogging (not to mention propriety and good taste. Wait, we exceeded those.). Philo from East/West won the first title… who will win Blogwhore 2? How far will our contestants go to be crowned Blogwhore 2?

I’m doing my bit by putting up this link. I’m afraid I don’t have the mental and emotional energy required to be original, clever, make use of graphics and so on, and then submit an entry. But what the heck, one of YOU might want to!

What do you see as the next major trend in shopping?
I don’t see any kind of major technology as important as the Internet coming along. But I think within the next few years, we will be watching a TV show and be able to purchase the dress that the woman playing the lead is wearing. Content and advertising are increasingly indistinguishable. That is where were going next. It’s not a place I want to go, but we’re already almost there.

Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers

What can I say? Feh. Ponderous, silly, filled with bad effects. I think the scene with the marsh gas was shot on left-over H.R. Puffinstuff sets. At least the first one had a lot of fantastic special effects to balance out the boredome, the ponderousness, and the bad effects. This was just silly. I had (to me, of course) a million hysterical comments to make during the film, but naturally I restrained myself.

For one thing, I couldn’t remember the last film – at least not in enough detail to parse the first 30 minutes. Who are all these people, and what are they doing, and what is going on? I kept recalling a really really really bad movie I saw a preview screening of (Timeline, based on a Michael Chricton story) and I had trouble figuring out which was which.

Can’t wait for the next one!

The Food Network on Sunday will serve up the “Two Fat Ladies Uncut Marathon,” with each half-hour episode containing seven minutes of “new footage, never before seen on Food Network.”

Hear that long-lost version of the Gilligan’s Island Theme, sung to the tune of Stairway to Heaven. This goes back to 1978, so you may have heard it, but maybe you haven’t heard it in a while…