Snakes For Nothing

Say, dudes! If you want to show off to the hot babes at the next party, may I recommend that you find some way other than this dumbass trick?

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Man Nearly Dies After Putting Pet Rattlesnake Down Throat

A man in Oregon nearly died after a pet rattlesnake that he put in his mouth while drinking with some friends bit him inside his throat.

Matt Wilkinson said when he put his eastern diamondback rattlesnake down his throat, he immediately noticed a shot-like sensation. "Me, being me, I put his head in my mouth,"

Wilkinson said. "At first, it felt like someone had given me a shot in the mouth."

Wilkinson's throat began to swell and close as poison rushed through his body.

Doctors stuck a breathing tube down his throat, injected several rounds of anti-venin and then put him in a medical coma for three days.

Wilkinson, who nearly died from the incident, is still recovering from the bite.

"They said I had enough venom in me to kill between 12 and 15 people," Wilkinson said.

"If he would have taken any longer to get to the hospital he probably would have died of asphyxiation," Dr. Richard Mullins told KGW-TV in Oregon. "If you have an obstructed airway and you can't breathe, you'll die in about seven minutes."

"I still love snakes but I will take a little more care in handling them," Wilkinson said. "It is kind of my own stupid fault."

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Sometimes the herd isn't thinned enough, apparently.

Drink Up, Me Hearties, Yo Ho!

Of all the holidays out there, this one is one of the best. So why are we at work today? We should be out scalliwagging or something...

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Wednesday is International Talk Like A Pirate Day

LONDON (Reuters) - Put a parrot on your shoulder, strap on a peg leg, hit the rum and start bellowing "Shiver me Timbers" -- Wednesday is International Talk Like A Pirate Day.

"Pirates of the Caribbean" star Johnny Depp is not the only over-the-top buccaneer allowed to have fun.

September 19 is your once-a-year chance to don an eye patch, sport a ridiculously large hat and keep on saying "Arrrrr.

International Talk Like a Pirate Day (TLAPD), which adopted Treasure Island star Robert Newton as its patron saint, now attracts fans from as far afield as Britain and Australia and even boasts a special Wikipedia site on the Internet.

The day even has its own unofficial anthem -- American Tom Smith has written and recorded "Talk Like a Pirate Day" -- and Canadian sketch comedy troupe Loading Ready Run produced an educational video on how to swashbuckle with the best of them.

It all started back in the 1990s as a cult joke between two American friends -- John "Ol Chumbucket" Baur and Mark "Capn Slappy" Summers -- but really took off when syndicated columnist Dave Barry got to hear about their surreal festival.

"We tap into that need for whimsy in people's lives," Summers says of the 24-hour celebration of quirkiness when they urge all self-respecting swashbucklers to show "pirattitude."

Ol Chumbucket and Capn Slappy are bombarded with requests for TLAPD interviews and proudly boast on their own website that they are even now being immortalized in computer games.

"That's fairly cool and geeky," Ol Chumbucket decided.

Pirate fans around the world have rallied round, showing that surreal silliness is alive and well.

An American soldier stationed in Iraq promised that "to celebrate, myself and others will wear an eye patch all day."

Sydney, Australia is staging a harbor cruise with "flagons of grog at pub prices and prizes to treasure for the dandiest of outfits."

A bar in Venice, Italy is holding an olive stone-spitting contest for would-be buccaneers.

A Brazilian fan even sent a letter of support in a bottle while one overjoyed Argentinian whose birthday falls on the same day said "It will be difficult to talk in Spanish like pirates but we will try."

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Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go pillage and plunder and rifle and loot. Then for laughs maybe I'll kidnap and ravage and not give a hoot. Arrrgh!

Adventures in Dining

It’s common knowledge that when it comes to diving into the Lake of Intelligence, a large percentage of the people in Sioux City don’t swim in the deep end. In fact, one could say that they barely dip their toe in.

They’re dumb as dirt; that’s a given. But nobody ever said that they’re not resourceful.

Case in point: Having just returned home from an extended travel period, I found myself in the precarious predicament of having “Mother Hubbard Syndrome” – our cupboards were definitely bare. And since hunger isn’t a positive attribute for first thing Monday morning, I decided to patronize the drive-thru window at a local fast food establishment. (Oh, God not McDonalds. Anything but that!)

Anyway, the car in line directly in front of me was one of those vehicles that is best summed up as a “piece of crap”. It was a four door, mostly rust-colored late 80’s GM of some sort.

From my viewpoint in the drive-thru lane I could see the big-haired chick behind the wheel of this vintage masterpiece enjoying both a cigarette and a cell phone conversation – a multitasking skill possessed by many of Iowa’s residents. But she was somehow able to take it to the next level by ordering breakfast at the same time – Oh. My. God. It’s the Hat Trick of Inattention to Your Driving!

But the kicker of this story isn’t her love of her Virginia Slim 100 or her ability to juggle a telephone, a burning cigarette, and a moving vehicle at the same time.

Nope – it was the way that she ordered her food.

You see, the driver’s side window on this four-door rust bucket didn’t go down. Naturally, Miss Driver couldn’t open her car door to place her order, or – gasp! – actually go inside to place her order.

She found a more creative way to do so.

She rolled down the back window and hollered her order out from the front seat.

Now, being the engineering marvel that this car was, it of curse had child safety windows in the back seat, which meant that they would only go down half way. So here’s Chicky literally yelling from the front seat, hoping that she could be heard through that half opened backseat window.

Add to it the fact that the little ol’ lady who works the drive-thru window at Big Ass Burger of Sioux City at 7:00 AM has two not-so-unique characteristics: She’s a trifle deaf, and she’s got a somewhat bad attitude. And we all know how well fast food drive-thru speakers work anyway, don’t we? So the conversation went something like this:

Chicky in Clunker Car: “Gimme a number one with bacon!”

Old Lady: “I’m sorry – I can’t understand you.”

Chicky: “Number one with bacon!”

Old Lady: “Did you want to try a new blueberry biscuit?”

Chicky: “Number one! Number one!”

Old Lady: “With sausage?”

Chicky: “Bacon! Number one with bacon!”

Old Lady: “Oh. (long pause) Okay. A number two with ham. Pull ahead.”

So Chicky eased her car forward 10 yards to the drive-up window itself, still puffing away on her smoke, still on her cell phone. You’d think that maybe she would’ve just called her order in by now, wouldn’t you?

It’s time to pay. Logically, Chicky does the only thing she can.

Still smoking – still on her phone – she LEANS BACK over the seat, and in a gymnastic move that Mary Lou Retton would be proud of, bends backwards to hand the money out the half-down rear window.

It was an impressive move, I’m telling you. God, I wish I had my camera.

The Old Lady leans out of her drive-thru window and takes the wad of ones from Chicky. One thing’s for sure: she may be hard of hearing, but she’s got a good reach. (I didn’t see her hand back any change, so I can only assume she just dropped it in the sack.)

A couple seconds later the Old Lady held out a bag containing what can only be a number four with beef, and Chicky again twisted her body over the back seat and got her left arm out the window to accept the bountiful goodness in a recycled brown paper bag.

Oh, I should also mention that while she was half folded over backwards she was also holding the cigarette butt as she reached out, which she then littered on the ground at the same time she accepted the bag o’ food. Remember what I said about multitasking?

Chicky then drove off into the sunrise, her classic automobile spewing smoke as she pulled away. She was still on the phone, but at least she hadn’t fired up another cigarette yet. I’m sure that somewhere out there she’s still chatting away while driving, a phone in one hand, an incorrect breakfast sandwich in the other, the steering wheel between her knees. All I can say is thank God I’m not driving behind her.

As for me, well, I did receive my correct order from the Old Lady, as I was sure to speak clearly and carefully out of my properly working car window. And I did enjoy the moment – it’s not often you get breakfast AND a show for $2.99.

So that was my morning. How was yours?

Jer-ry! Jer-ry!

If you’re ever looking for something *really* interesting online, there’s only one place to turn: Craig’s List.

I’m not going to waste my (or your) time by delving into the deep history and amusing anecdotes of Craig’s List, but I thought I’d show you this listing that I saw today in the “Jobs” section.

Keep in mind the source...

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Are you fan of Jerry Springer...

Date: 2007-09-13, 7:34PM CDT

...and have some drama going on in your life? We are going into our 17th season for Jerry Springer and looking for wild and crazy guests with REAL stories. If you or anyone you know is in a family feud and need to literally fight it out (without legally getting into trouble)...call us asap at xxx-xxx-3402.

All expense paid trip to Chicago (flights, limo, hotel, food, entertainment, cigarettes)

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Hmmm... Jerry Springer wants YOU. All you got to do is come to Chicago, curse a little, and smack around your trailer-trash boyfriend/girlfriend/sister/transvestite midget lover (who could quite possibly be all one person), and bingo – faster than you can say “Oh no you di’int!”, you’ll be a star.

Plus, they’re tossing in a free carton of smokes as one of the amenities. Yes, nothing says “The Perks of Stardom” quite like complimentary cigs. Of course, the ad says nothing about MONEY – just a coach plane ticket, a ride to the TV studio, two nights at the Super 8, and a pack or two of Camels.

But who knows – publicly airing your family strife could be the perfect fodder for a screenplay, a TV movie of the week (preferably on Lifetime), a feature article in People and/or Us Weekly, or the golden ring of trash TV faux celebs: your very own VH1 dating show.

Or it could just expose you to the world as a whacked-out nutjob, desperate for attention. It’s up to you.

I’m afraid you won’t be seeing me on Jerry Springer anytime soon. I unfortunately have the one trait that they don’t find suitable for their show: self-dignity.

Still, if I ever find myself critically in need of a free nicotine fix (not likely) and cannot come up with any other option, it’s nice to know they’re out there, just waiting for me. I’ll just need to go pick up some ribbed white tank tops and a couple of circus freaks first...

Hangin' With The Clintons

One of the many pleasures of living in Iowa is that beloved “first in nation” status for presidential caucuses/primaries. I’ve mentioned the onslaught of politicians that come through town daily before, but yesterday I actually dragged the Lovely Mrs. G. out yesterday to see one – or, depending on how you look at it – two.

Yes, we (and several hundred of our closest friends) met up with good ol’ Bill and Hilary yesterday. Can you believe it?

Okay, we personally didn’t meet them – the crowd was too thick for me to get much closer than this to Bill, and Hilary was already shaking hands around the corner by the time I got up this close. But it was a good turnout, especially in a part of the state where the GOP runs thick. It was actually refreshing to see.

Of course, since this is Iowa after all, Bill Richardson and Joe Biden showed up at the exact same spot a couple of hours later. But we were long gone before that point – I’d come to see Bill (primarily) and Hilary (somewhat), and we didn’t hang out any longer than that.

Now, I know that a lot of people are still pissed at Slick Willie for his White House dalliances with women-to-whom-he-was-not-married. Yeah, it was rude of him to do. Yes, he lied to us about it. Yes, he’s lucky his wife didn’t publicly beat him senseless.

But the way I see it, Billy’s lies are NOTHING compared to Georgie’s lies. Bill’s hummer didn’t cause 3,742 Americans to die in Iraq. Monica’s stained blue dress is minor compared to 27,662 wounded soldiers.

And the cost of impeaching William J. Clinton? A drop in the bucket compared to what we’re pissing away fighting a war we shouldn’t have been involved in. Plus, Bill had a V.P. that actually cared about the world, and just didn’t go around shooting dudes in the face. So there.

So I was glad to see Bill and Hilary stop in – they’re welcome to town any time. Come on over to the Gressel house, guys – I’ll throw some brisket on the BBQ and we can crack open a couple of cold ones.

I’m not sure which pol will be in town next – Lord knows it won’t be long until we find out who – but maybe I’ll have to go hear what they have to say too. But if Georgie Boy was to show up (and believe me – he has before), I’ll stay as far away from him as possible. I’d hate to get his stench on me.

But for now I’ll be happy with the knowledge that I was thisclose to the former President of the United States. And it should be known that if Hilary does end up winning this thing in a mere 14 months from now, then the Lovely Mrs. G. and I would be more than thrilled to accept an Ambassadorship position to Tahiti.

Hey, it’s the least she can do...