Tasteless Humor x 4

Nothing rings in the holiday season quite like a hearty dose of offensive humor (provided by my friend, Jeff)...

 

 

Joke #1:

An ugly guy walks into a bar with a huge smile on his face.

The bartender asks, “What’s up? Why are you so happy?”

The ugly guy says, “I live down by the RR yard, and last night on my way home from the bar, I found a girl tied to the tracks.”

The bartender says, “No way! What did you do?”

The ugly guy says, “I untied her, brought her to back to my place, and…. SCHWING, we went at it all night long.”

“No kidding?” the bartender says. “Was she pretty?”

”Don’t know,” the ugly guy says. “Never did find her head.”



Joke #2:

A teacher, a lawyer, and a priest are all on the Titanic when it hits the iceberg. Over the loudspeaker, the captain announces the ship is sinking and orders the crew to lower the lifeboats.

In a panic, the teacher shouts, “The children! Save the children!”

The lawyer pushes his way toward a lifeboat and yells, “Screw the children!”

The priest says, “Do you think we have time?”



Joke #3:

Three old guys are in a urologist’s waiting room talking. The first old guy asks the second old guy why he’s there.

Second old guy: “Well – every morning at 7 AM, I have the urge to piss like a racehorse, but when I try to go, only a few dribbles come out.”

The third old guy nods. “I know just what you mean. Every morning at 7 AM, I feel like I need to take a massive dump, but when I sit down, I only pass gas.”

The second old guy looks back to the first old guy and asks, “So – what about you? Why are you here?”

The first old guy leans forward: “Every morning at 7 AM I piss like there’s no tomorrow, and then have a bowel movement that would put an elephant to shame.”

The third old guy frowns: “So what’s the problem?”

First old guy: “I don’t get up until 8.”



Joke #4:

Three rednecks and a gay guy are out driving around in the country after a night of partying. They turn down a farm road and see a sheep with its head caught in a fence. The driver slams on the brakes, backs up, aims the headlights at the sheep, and all three rednecks jump out of the car and take turns with the sheep.

When the last redneck is done, he turns to the gay guy and asks, “You up for a little of this action?”

The gay guy shrugs and says, “Sure.  But only if you promise to get my head out of the fence when you’re done.”

2011 Layne Family Christmas Letter

It is again that time of year when baby Jesus rises from the manger, dons his red suit, and climbs aboard his sleigh to deliver dreidels and ham sandwiches to all the good, non-Muslim children of the world.

Speaking of winter, 2011 began with the first honest-to-goodness blizzard we’ve had in decades. For several weeks, our patio was converted to a “potty-o” as the snowfall totals exceeded Taffy’s ground clearance by well over 17 inches.

Karen declared 2011 the year of purging the unnecessary and lightening loads, which Mark took to include ancillary pets. Not only was Mark thwarted in his attempts to introduce the tropical fish to egg wash and Pankow bread crumbs, but his plan to set the parakeets free in time for them to reacquire their natural migratory instincts and thus return to their place of origin (which in the case of store bought birds raised in captivity is the nearest PetSmart), was likewise foiled by his bleeding heart children and bird-loving mother-in-law. In keeping with the “out-with-the-old, in-with-the-new” theme, Karen’s new husband moved in during August. He and Mark are getting along well, although the bed is a bit crowded.

Allyson was highly disappointed when her Magic 8 Ball ran afoul of her career plans by confirming she would be a famous dancer one day. Insisting it’s not fair she can’t have a cat just because her father and sister are deathly allergic, Ally decided it would be best if Amanda and Mark moved out. When confronted with the impracticability of that idea, Ally generously proposed shaving the cat so Mark and Amanda could stay.

In reading through her old school papers Mark & Karen were surprised to learn Ally’s favorite things about 2nd grade were morning snack and lunch. Now a mature third grader, having moved to the more expansive Intermediate School building and grounds, it seems recess has gained a slight edge over lunch.

Amanda has become one of her soccer team’s best defenders, a skill she no doubt acquired from watching her father repeatedly defend his manhood. Ally almost missed the fall soccer season owing to her preference for Wii athletics to sports not involving a sofa. To cure her of this predilection, Karen & Mark signed her up for boy’s flag football. Turns out she preferred soccer after all, quickly elevating her game from the previous season during which she was a finalist for the Orange Cone Award given to the player most resembling a practice drill pylon.

Amanda has adjusted to the rigors of Middle School with a shrug and a yawn. Her academic achievements and writing skills are overshadowed only by her ability to antagonize people, primarily her sister. K & M are working with a team of scientists to convert the energy the girls spend fighting into a commercially viable byproduct such as a “green” automotive propulsion system, free electricity, or a death ray.

In their quest to visit a place even colder and bleaker than Illinois, the gang traveled to Minneapolis prior to Thanksgiving to visit Mark’s childhood friend who recently relocated there. It was great to see John and Janet and their mastodon-size puppy, Lila. While the girls squandered their college savings at the Mall of Everything That’s Wrong With America, Mark caught up with a former roommate from the University of North Dakota who is there hiding from his ex-wife.

Karen continues to battle depression over her inability to clean the house more than twice per day owing to her aggressive weight lifting schedule. Incorrectly assuming he was completing the paperwork to become a living organ donor, Mark was accidentally elected to the local school board. The girls are excited to have some new “muscle” behind their pet initiatives including a three day school week, No Homework Month, and Talk Like Scooby Doo Day.

Even though George Bernard Shaw once described Christmas as an indecent, cruel, gluttonous, drunken, disorderly, wasteful, disastrous, wicked, cadging, lying, filthy, blasphemous, and demoralizing subject forced upon a reluctant and disgusted nation by shopkeepers and the press, and that if left to its own merits would wither and shrivel in the fiery breath of universal hatred, all those lights sure are pretty.

Merry Christmas to All and to All Good Grief,

Karen, Mark, Amanda, Ally (and Taffy too)

Santa Safety Video

It is again that time of year when our thoughts turn to family, friends, festive decorations, Santa Claus, and exploding houses.  Have you had your furnace checked lately?

http://youtu.be/F8XBpkjwe-g

More Sad News from Happy Valley

COLUMBUS - Adding to his current legal woes, former Penn State Football Coach Jerry Sandusky faces new charges stemming from allegations that he violated Ohio law during his tenure at Penn State University.

Amid a sex abuse scandal currently rocking one of the most storied programs in college football, the Ohio attorney general’s office released a thirty page indictment accusing the retired Nittany Lions defensive coordinator of illegally coaching football in neighboring Pennsylvania.

The indictment cites a little known but long standing Ohio law prohibiting the “exportation of football talent, skills, or other gridiron knowhow” outside the state of Ohio.

Sandusky’s attorneys believe the law’s reach should not extend to Sandusky, a native of Pennsylvania whose only connection to the Buckeye state is the name he shares with a small Ohio town located on Lake Erie between Cleveland and Toledo which is perhaps best known as the home of Cedar Point amusement park.

Ohio governor John Kasich fully supports the law and stands behind the state’s obligation to enforce it.

“It is against the very fabric of our being to allow football talent that rightfully belongs to the people of Ohio the unrestricted ability to defect to neighboring states,” said Kasich. “Take away football, and you might as well change our name to Illinois.”

US Senator Rob Portman (R-OH) concurs.  “Whereas other states are known for their tobacco, automobiles, or unusual items made from corn, our cash crop, so to speak, is football – specifically football coaches.”

Virtually unpublicized outside the Buckeye state, the law is routine among those who have worked in and around Ohio’s football industry over the years.

Former Florida Gators coach, ESPN analyst, and Ohio native Urban Meyer didn’t realize the decades old legislation extended to persons with such tenuous connections to the state, however.

“Former coaches and players have always known we could never bring our talents elsewhere and expect to come back,” said Meyer. “It never occurred to me that the law might also extend to someone whose name just happened to be Cleveland, or Dayton, or Beavercreek.”

Fellow ESPN analyst Lee Corso doesn’t understand all the fuss over the law which he believes makes ultimate sense.

“Let’s be honest,” quipped Corso. “Less than 4% of the US population lives in Ohio, yet over 15% of FBS head coaches were born there, which is more than any other state. Face it folks, Ohio is football and football is Ohio.”

It is this very law that recently disgraced Ohio State University football coach Jim Tressel claims imprisoned him in Ohio for much of his professional life, and was the primary cause behind his recent dismissal.

“To people on the outside, my situation looked like a scandal, a cover-up,” said Tressel. “To me, it was my ticket to freedom.”

During his weekly radio broadcast, Eagles guitar virtuoso Joe Walsh – a one time Columbus resident and Kent State grad – expressed sympathy for Jim Tressel’s plight. Referring to the famous song lyric, “You can check out but you can never leave,” Walsh commented that while most people think the song Hotel California is about the west coast drug culture, it’s really about Ohio.

As an example of just how pervasive football culture is in Ohio, a Youngstown high school football coach who asked not to be identified admitted he advises his senior players that if they accept a scholarship to play football at an out-of-state college or university, they must renounce their Ohio citizenship, and could even face arrest should any be so foolish as to attend the University of Michigan and later get caught trespassing on Ohio soil.

“They are crazy down there,” said new Michigan head man Brady Hoke. “We have number of players on our roster from Ohio. Whenever we travel to Columbus, we get them in and out fast as we can before any trouble starts. And sometimes we make them wear dresses and silly hats.”

When asked for his take on the indictment, legendary Miami Dolphins head coach and Ohio native Don Shula mumbled something about Woody Hayes, then asked to be moved closer to an open window.

If convicted, the 67 year old Sandusky – a former protégé of legendary Nittany Lions head coach Joe “Pa” Paterno – could spend the rest of his natural life collecting tolls on the Ohio turnpike.

Top Dog

I am the head of my household. I know this because it said so on my 2010 US Census form.

So why, if a semi-competent, quasi-governmental agency has declared me head of household, do I find myself sitting on an empty five gallon bucket in the garage watching football on my smartphone?

I don’t know how it happened, or when exactly. It was glacial in progression. First a chair. Then some food… a bed.

Our dog, Taffy, is a beloved and cherished member of the family. Taffy is a Yorkie Poo, emphasis on “Poo.” Though small in stature, she is held in equal – if not superior – esteem to the four humans with whom she cohabitates. As such, her comfort is of paramount importance to us all.

Taffy sleeps 21 hours a day. This is because she works hard. Originally bred as food for larger dogs, Yorkies have evolved into loyal pets and committed guardians. Taffy protects us not only from chipmunks and Ken dolls, but from vacuum sweepers and the German couple down the street.

My two young daughters have taken it upon themselves to ensure Taffy gets proper rest given the rigors of her day.

“Dad! You can’t sit [lie, stand, inhale, etc.] there. Taffy is sleeping!”

Poor Taffy. So put upon. So underappreciated.

“Taffy’s Chair,” is the leather recliner from which, like Mickey Mouse Merlin, I once compelled an endless panoply of sporting events to scroll across our humungous flat screen TV. The only sports to appear on that television these days are Jellyfishing and underwater snowboarding.

I can’t blame Taffy. The recliner is quite comfy.

Neither can I blame the kids. SpongeBob just doesn’t look the same in standard definition.

Even so, I don’t mind sharing my chair. Or my bed. Not even my USDA Prime beef.

As a Food Network schooled culinary expert, I’ve been known to waste a fair amount of time in the kitchen preparing wholesome and savory dishes that nobody likes.

Owing to our five member family and four seat dinette, we tend to eat in shifts. I go last.

Understandably, my wife and children can’t bear to watch Taffy sit upon her tufted pouf before a bowl of brittle, nutritionally balanced, outrageously expensive dog chow, while they devour peppercorn and garlic encrusted New York Strips, herbed red potatoes, and honey-balsamic glazed green beans. Taffy’s suffering is more than they can endure.

Sometimes, the kids save me a few scraps. They are kind. At my age, I don’t need the fat and cholesterol anyway. And Taffy’s food isn’t half bad soaked in a little milk.

It is true that the older I get, the simpler my needs become. Nowadays, I’m happy if I can sleep through the night and wake the next morning pain free and un-constipated.

Experts on human aging have discovered a direct correlation between a couple’s years of marriage and their preferred proximity while sleeping. Though we haven’t opted for separate bedrooms (yet), my wife and I purchased a king size mattress in order to maximize our mutual comfort while maintaining the illusion of marital bliss, both for the benefit of the children and our respective mothers-in-law.

It’s a nice mattress. Big, too. But whereas I once looked forward to spreading out in my unencumbered half of nocturnal acreage, it seems poor Taffy just can’t get comfortable anywhere else. How an eleven pound creature is able to occupy twenty times her own volume in bed-space is a miracle that defies all known laws of physics.

And while falling out of bed a several times a night does provide good practice in the event of a fire or tornado, balancing a body my size on eleven inches of mattress edge makes for a night’s sleep even a galley slave wouldn’t envy. Fortunately, it turns out we have some very accommodating couches, chairs, and rugs scattered throughout our home.

All things considered, I can’t complain. I’m kept well fed and properly bathed. Taffy sees to it I get plenty of exercise during our morning and evening walks. And my family doesn’t seem to mind having me around, as long as I keep off the living room furniture. It’s not a bad life by any measure.

In Native American lore, my place at the base of our family totem pole represents a position of strength and dominance – the foundation which supports the whole. Nonetheless, as I gaze up beyond the smiling caricatures of my wife and two children, I can’t help but wonder what the view is like from the top. Only Taffy knows for sure.

 

In Defense of Dad

I just returned from a week-long trip with my family. Boy do I need a vacation.

The truth is, family vacations are neither relaxing nor recuperative.

There is good reason most families prefer a permanent living arrangement incorporating some sort of multiple room domicile with a kitchen, more than one lavatory, and separate sleeping chambers. Humans need their space. Which is why moving two large and three small humans into a single chlorine redolent hotel room with none of the aforedescribed amenities is a recipe for disaster.

I love my family. I don’t want to smell them.

To my father, quality family time meant a day on the golf course with his pals. He’d occasionally call if he was going to be home late. It seems he believed fighting Germans had fulfilled his duty to humanity. The rest was up to my mom.

Nowadays, fathers are expected to not only be present and accounted for during a child’s formative years, but to actually participate in the child rearing process. This is a mistake.

No matter how “evolved” men have become in recent times, it is in the best interests of society and the overall health of the family unit to keep men at the office, on the golf course, or deployed overseas. No good can be had from us meddling in the domestic arts, especially when it comes to children.

In the first place, men don’t really like kids, especially other people’s kids. Speaking from experience, a guy will get accustomed to the noises, messes, and odors his own children produce. Given time, the commotion becomes part of the natural landscape of the household – easily digested, easily ignored.

Then my oldest daughter began having “play dates” where one or more of her miniature accomplices would be deposited on our doorstep sans parent and left to wreak fresh havoc upon the preexisting havoc in our home. It was all I could do to keep from herding them into the garage and locking the door.

“Why don’t you guys pretend you’re taking a long car trip? The keys are in the ignition.”

In fact, science has proven men are incapable of properly caring for any child under the age of twenty seven. I confess I have no skill for discerning leggings from tights, taking a temperature by touch, or whether something is “cute” or “gross.” Men can’t be expected to remember that Samantha only wears pink (except on Tuesdays), Brandon can’t sleep without his favorite pot holder, Suzie is allergic to white, or Tommy only eats “left handed food.”

My wife does her best to spare the children my ignorance. At times, especially in the morning, it’s unavoidable.

“Frosted-flake-and-jelly sandwiches are not a school-approved lunch!” my wife will shriek with disgust.

“They have school today?” I will dumbly respond.

Bottom line: the nuances or raising children are far too subtle for men to comprehend. Nor does it help to know the downside of our incompetence will likely end in tragedy.

My father had a punch-list of names he’d call me depending on his mood, not the least of which included “rotten,” “good-for-nothin,” and “Lester.” I was stunned when my wife informed me name calling can be damaging to a child’s self esteem.

Self esteem? When I was a kid, self esteem (along with the various other “esteems”) were irrelevant as long as my homework was done, my plate clean, and my room tidy.

Thanks to the scads of research conducted over the past sixty years, however, we are now keenly aware just how fragile a child’s psyche is. Clearly our parents’ practice of spanking, yelling, threatening, and guilting us into behaving in a responsible, respectful, mature manner has resulted in our becoming a generation of drooling sociopaths unfit to participate in the conventions of polite society.

We are now painfully aware how one cross word or errant frown from a parent can send a child down the slippery slope toward absolute ruin. Before you know it, they’re smoking Kool’s, wearing their razor-slashed jeans at mid-thigh, sneaking cell phones into school, and opting to attend community college.

From a guy’s perspective, crawling through a minefield and lobbing a grenade into an enemy machine gun nest is a day at the beach compared to the responsibility of raising healthy, well adjusted kids. The pressure is unbearable.

Let us remember that at their core, men are solitary creatures. It’s all most men can do to accommodate a spouse in their lives, let alone a gaggle of mewling, runny nosed moppets who are forever begging for attention, food, and college tuition. Children – why God invented Canada. And Walleye. And mothers.

As P.J. O’Rourke observed, “Humans are the only animals that have children on purpose, with the exception of guppies who like to eat theirs.”

He was speaking of male guppies, of course.

The Ugliest Holiday

Like the blooming of jonquils, the reappearance of robins, and looming NFL player disputes, the emergence of pastel fashions, kaleidoscopic eggs, and a giant white rabbit who delivers candy to already sugar dependent kids can only mean one thing – Easter is on its way.

I confess – Easter is my least favorite holiday. In fact, Easter is to the holidays what the 70’s were to fashion and good taste.

Thanks to the widespread use of illegal narcotics during the late 1960’s and early 1970’s, the young adults of the time known as “Hippies” who we now refer to as “stockbrokers,” were the main proponents of loud, garish colors, psychedelic patterns, obnoxious home decor, and exaggerated pant cuffs and shirt collars, all owing to their drug-distorted perception of style, hue, and proportion.

Drugs also played a critical role in the music of the day, influencing such legendary groups as Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath (see heroin), the folksy, hallucinogenic musings of The Grateful Dead (see LSD), and eventually the vacuousness and superficiality of disco (see cocaine).

My point is the stylistic hideousness of that period in history can be traced directly to the abuse of illegal and/or controlled substances. Unfortunately, those persons who today embrace the foppery of Easter cannot point to drugs as an excuse.

Let’s face it – when it comes to over-the-top ugliness, Easter takes the proverbial lamb cake.

Whereas Thanksgiving is all about root vegetables, the harvest, turkeys, and Pilgrims inviting Indians to dinner then making them do the dishes, and Christmas all pine scented and cozy with wooden toys and sleigh rides and red bows topping luxury sedans, Easter is what happens when your three year old eats two pounds of jelly beans then pukes on the living room rug.

In the upper Midwest where I live, spring is the rainy part of winter that precedes three hot and humid weeks which occur just before the start of winter.

Spring is as ephemeral to Midwesterners as integrity is to government. More the stuff of legend than an actual tangible climatic event, I learned early on to doubt spring’s existence, considering it a mere trick nature plays to get us to believe the cold weather is finally coming to an end, which it never fully does.

Even so, when the calendar dictates, Midwestern men will dust off their seersucker suits and white patent leather shoes while their women don florid dresses and strap jaunty flower-basket-bonnets to their heads. Then with similarly costumed children in tow, they emerge from their underground burrows and parade about town in a futile attempt to impart some semblance of life and color unto the otherwise bleak landscape.

“Break out the kites, croquet mallets, and badminton racquets, kids! It’s springtime! And don’t forget your boots and mittens. ”

A primary reason Jews never accepted Christ as their savior is because they have too much self respect to denigrate themselves into celebrating such an obnoxiously vibrant holiday. It’s the same reason you never see Muslims dressing like popsicles or Native Americans worshiping white rabbits.

So this year as you dye your eggs, fill your gaudy baskets with polychromatic globs of sugar, and eat your deviled eggs, glazed ham, and hollow chocolate rabbits, pause for a moment to give thanks to those pioneering souls who weren’t afraid to get stoned out of their minds and put on orange paisley peasant shirts, bell bottom jeans, and tuck their long hair under leather headbands, all so you and I can sit back and admire this pastel infused season through our rose tinted shades.

Somebody pass the bong.

Japan Braces As New Threat Looms

Scant weeks since the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear facility was slammed by a mammoth tsunami resulting in a deadly release of radiation, Japan now nervously awaits an even more ominous peril which could threaten the very existence of the beleaguered island nation.

In what Chief Cabinet Secretary Yukio Edano regards as “a likely realization of Japan’s greatest collective fear,” Kyodo News reported yesterday that all merchant Japanese fishing vessels were ordered to be on the lookout for a “giant mutant dinosaur with rough, bumpy, charcoal-gray scales, a long powerful tail, and jagged dorsal fins” emerging from the sea near the site of the damaged reactors.

In a national televised address, Prime Minister Naoto Kan stated, “As a nation we have long feared a natural disaster of this magnitude would one day wake our slumbering nemesis.”

The nemesis to which the Prime Minister refers is Godzilla – a legendary creature similar in appearance to a Tyrannosaurus Rex of the Paleozoic Period, but ten stories tall and able to incinerate people and objects with its radioactive “fire breath.”

A hideous consequence of the US bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Godzilla is a mutation of a native species of Asian Iguana which has returned to wreak havoc upon the Japanese mainland several times throughout post WWII history.

Buried under tons of rock in the Pacific Ocean and presumed dead, it has been decades since the people of Japan faced annihilation at the albeit tiny hands of this abomination of nature.

Just the same, the Japanese people remain wary of Godzilla’s possible reappearance given the magnitude of the March 11 earthquake and the high levels of radiation in the ocean surrounding the crippled nuclear facility.

“It is not a matter of if, but when,” commented Tokyo resident David Hirohito.

“At this point, we cannot rule anything out,” agreed Secretary Edano. “Godzilla is known to be quite fierce and resilient.”

His Imperial Majesty Emperor Akihito has called upon the international community to send financial aid amid concerns of what many Japanese citizens consider an imminent attack.

“Seriously?” said Marcia McNutt, current Director of USGS. “They suffer an unprecedented seismic event, their country lies in ruins, radiation is leaking into the groundwater and ocean, their food supply is contaminated, and they’re worried about some overgrown lizard? Somebody shoot me.”

Though the creature has not been spotted to date, the Japanese military is bracing for the worst. Key port cities have been fortified – especially Tokyo which has been a favored target of the creature.

Sadly, the extensive military deployment has done little to bolster the spirits of the Japanese people.

“Conventional weaponry has no effect, and nuclear arms only make him stronger,” claimed Godzilla expert, Ishirō Honda. “If he returns, may the gods help us.”

With their options few and disaster relief operations stretched to breaking, the Japanese government has called to arms the most deadly and dangerous weapon in their post-war military arsenal.

Earlier today, Prime Minister Kan consulted with the shōbijin (Japanese for "small beauties") – two tiny fairies who have the ability to summon Mothra, a giant lepidopteron who has been known to get the better of Godzilla in past confrontations. 

Out of work for decades and woefully overweight, the shōbijin were found living in a tattered shoebox under a trash bin in Tokyo’s red-light district, cheating tourists at Chō-Han Bakuchi.

After exacting a hefty fee from the Japanese government, the shōbijin’s shrill entreaty was sung over radio stations and on public address systems throughout Japan in the hopes Mothra would appear to oppose Godzilla’s return.

“Now we wait,” said Secretary Edano, scanning the western sky. “Now we wait.”

Should the efforts of Mothra fail, Prime Minister Kan plans to seek the aid of a giant mutant simian from Skull Island in the Pacific. Obnoxious film actor Jack Black has been contacted to lead the expedition.

Libyan Madman Detained in US

New York - In a shocking revelation, the New York Times reports that beleaguered Libyan strongman, Moammar Gadhafi, is not only living comfortably in the US, but served as 55th governor of New York from 2008 to 2010.

In addition to charges of obstruction of justice, illegally acquiring World Series tickets, and his alleged involvement in a sex scandal, it would seem that former New York Governor David Paterson was not at all who he claimed to be.

“It’s really quite embarrassing,” said Josh Vlasto, current New York Governor Andrew M. Cuomo’s spokesperson. “We all noticed the similarities, but never guessed the former governor was actually a maniacal Libyan despot.”

Apparently, Paterson’s (aka Gadhafi’s) publicized indiscretions were only the tip of the iceberg.

Subsequent to release of the New York Times story, TMZ has discovered that Gadhafi has enjoyed a decadent, playboy lifestyle since arriving in the US.

With Libya’s vast oil wealth at his disposal, Gadhafi reportedly purchased a sprawling, multimillion dollar estate in the Hamptons next door to infamous radio host Howard Stern. Replete with a harem of high priced NY call girls, a stable of fancy cars, and all the Miller High Life he cared to drink, Gadhafi is said to have held week-long parties that make Charlie Sheen look like a Boy Scout.

FBI Director Robert Mueller, now better understands the absence of typical stress indicators during their analysis of Gadhafi’s recent taped addresses as commander-in-chief of his armed forces.

“Of course he was relaxed,” Mueller quipped. “I’d be relaxed too if I was over 4,000 miles from the battlefront.”

The puzzle began to take shape after rebel forces captured Gadhafi’s palace compound in Tripoli, and were surprised to find it empty. The rebel leader was informed by a palace servant that that Gadhafi hadn’t been there in years, having left Libya for the US over half a decade prior.

The non-profit State Government Affairs Council indicated this is first time a non-US citizen has held a high elected office.

“The New York governor’s office is shocked and disheartened that this somehow slipped through the cracks,” said Vlasto. “We hope it won’t happen again.”

Cuomo himself was outraged. “It’s simply wrong that security screenings at LaGuardia should be more rigorous than the vetting of candidates running for election to the highest office in the state. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been cavity searched before a twenty minute flight to DC, yet here’s this ruthless dictator living like a king right under our highly prominent noses.”

Prior to being detained by the FBI, Gadhafi was spotted at a popular NY night club with a beautiful woman on each arm, and earlier at a taping of the David Letterman Show.

Upon his arrest outside a Sag Harbor Starbucks, Gadhafi became enraged, shouting, “My bitches! I must get back to my bitches!”

Gadhafi will be deported and remanded into the custody of the provisional Libyan government to await trial for crimes against the Libyan people. His fate, as well as that of his “bitches,” remains unclear.

Lohan to Serve Time

During her plea hearing over a felony theft charge for allegedly stealing a necklace from a Venice jewelry store, Los Angeles Superior Court Judge Keith Schwartz said he will personally see to it that scofflaw Lindsay Lohan serves time – as a US Congresswoman.

“Miss Lohan’s utter disregard for the law, coupled with her antisocial, self-destructive behaviors, make her a perfect fit for the US Congress,” said Schwartz during a post-hearing press conference.

In a plea bargain that would spare Lohan jail time, but force her into a life of public service more fitting her reputation and proclivities, Schwartz was left with little choice.

The plea requires Lohan to run for public office at the next available opportunity. The one caveat Judge Schwartz placed upon Lohan’s sentence was she could not represent the state of California.

“The people of the state of California have had just about enough of celebrity politicians,” Schwartz commented.

Under Schwartz’s ruling, Lohan will be remanded into the custody of Federal Marshals who will then select the state that most deserves her.

Schwartz went on to suggest a good fit might be someplace where blind celebrity worship is still fashionable such as Iowa, North Dakota, or perhaps Alaska.

E Entertainment gadfly Ted Casablanca agrees that jail wouldn’t have helped the out-of-control child star.

“She’s been to jail before. For a person with no interest in reform and given her failed attempts at rehab, politics – especially on the national stage – is the only place left for her to go.”

Sources close to the beleaguered actress said, that after living so many years under legal scrutiny, she was looking forward to finally being “above the law.” Lohan also expressed excitement over the prospect of making new laws of her own.

Some initiatives she is reportedly considering include raising the legal blood alcohol level to 0.40, making retail theft up to $10,000 punishable by a tearful televised apology, and blogging for world peace.

Lohan’s attorney, Shawn Holley, was visibly upset over the numerous leaks to the media during the plea bargaining process.


"Thankfully, this case doesn't involve military secrets where people's lives are at stake," she said. “Of course as a congresswoman privy to state secrets and matters of national security, that might change once she’s in office.”

Lohan, who was meeting with her newly hired campaign manager, Charlie Sheen, at Sheen’s private Malibu residence could not be reached for comment.

Alabama Under Siege Over Auburn Victory

Alabama governor Rob Riley declared martial law today as celebrations resulting from Auburn University’s first national championship in 53 years spilled over into a third day of revelry.

Riley ordered National Guard troops to secure key government facilities and certain commercial establishments being targeted by looters such as liquor stores, tobacco shops, and auto parts dealers.

Recent ice storms which have shut down transportation in several southern states including Alabama and Georgia have only made matters worse with food shortages and most workweek activities skidding to a screeching halt. Riley will likely ask President Obama for federal aid.

“It’s really pandemonium down here,” Riley stated during his most recent press conference. “Folks can’t get to work or school, so nobody has had a good reason to stop partying.”

Birmingham mayor William A. Bell concurred. “Most of our citizens haven’t slept in several days, and with the schools closed, folks just keep drinking and shooting their guns in the air.”

Outside Birmingham, roving bands of unsupervised, sleep-deprived children wander zombie-like through the ice covered streets, screaming “War Eagle!” as their parents stare with bloodshot eyes at their television sets, watching replays of the BCS championship game on an endless loop.

In a Huntsville suburb, a cluster of children was found praying before a statue of Auburn head football coach, Gene Chizik, which they had fashioned out of mud.

“I looked out my window and saw seven or eight school kids make this likeness of coach with dirt and sticks,” said Auburn resident Lurleen Cowslip. “They stood there chantin’ and worshippin’ what they made. Then after a while, a couple of em started to eat it.”

Lurleen’s neighbor, Cooter Hogpile, was horrified at the spectacle. “I ain’t never seen cannibals before, but them kids sure enjoyed eating coach. Had to turn my head once.”

Sources close to Governor Riley say he hasn’t ruled out the use of deadly force to quell the uprising.

“We haven’t seen unrest like this in our state since the civil rights movement,” a governor’s aide said. “If we need to shoot a few kids to restore order, so be it.”

It seems everyone even remotely connected to Auburn University has joined in the celebration. Speaking from his estate in Scottsdale, AZ, former Auburn student and NBA superstar, Charles Barkley, remarked, “This is a great victory for Auburn and a huge victory for the south. It’s the whole reason we fought in and won the Civil War.”

Tigers fever has even spread to the heights of the state’s political infrastructure as the Alabama Legislature passed a resolution on Tuesday demanding the Atlanta based fast food giant Chick-fil-A change the names of all their Alabama locations to “Chizik-fil-A” in honor of Auburn’s victory.