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A train leaves St. Louis at 86 mph. Simultaneously, another train leaves New York at 93 mph. Why?
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A train leaves St. Louis at 86 mph. Simultaneously, another train leaves New York at 93 mph. Why?
Sunday night, I couldn't sleep. Like a five-year-old on Christmas Eve, I was just too excited. I'd close my eyes and pop awake every five minutes with a giddiness that in normal cases of insomnia is replaced with annoyance. But, not this Sunday. Oh no, I couldn't sleep and I didn't care! I was too pumped up! You want to know why? So do I.
A study of older men in The Netherlands indicated those who ate the equivalent of 1/3 of a chocolate bar every day had lower blood pressure and a reduced risk of death. The researchers also say, however, that it's too early to conclude it was chocolate that led to a healthier life. Among the many other statistical similarities in the lives of those men are that they:
I was on the Orange Line the other day (The CTA train that runs to Midway), and it passed what I can only assume was a diving board factory and warehouse. Do they have those? Are diving boards made, assembled and stored all in one place? If not, what could I have seen that bore a striking resemblance to a stockpile of diving boards?
On my flight to Pittsburgh, I sat next some forty-something guy who would eat his peanuts in the most annoying way possible. He'd pour a couple into his hand (which is fine), then he'd do this thing I'd never seen anyone do: he jiggled the peanuts around in his hand, using a motion not unlike the one we use to symbolize jerking off, cocked his head back so it was perpendicular to the rest of his body, and slammed the peanuts violently into his mouth. It took seven of these action sets to finish off the tiny bag of peanuts they gave him (yes, I counted). So...irritating.
I was shooting a sketch in an office complex last weekend, and there was a hand drawn poster hanging up outside the break room that said the following:
This stretches the definition of new quite a bit, but old Animal Club favorite HItler Oh's is up. For the record, I think it's the first sketch I ever wrote, pre-dating the Animal Club, going all the way back to my days in the broke-up-before-we-ever-did-a-show Thirsty Camels sketch comedy group. I wrote a dozen sketches for that group, all of one of which was good enough to actually produce, and of course it's a cereal sketch. Sigh. Anyway, enjoy it.
I just shared an elevator ride with a middle aged Japanese man wearing an Indiana Jones hat. YES!!!
On the days I work at my day job, I pass the only Chicagoland Long John Silvers on my commute. This morning I was greeted with a sign there that activated my gag reflex something awful; Buttered Lobster Bites.
I've spent the past five hours doing the following:
When you've spent a good four or five hours filing, the world becomes a quirkier place. Names keep passing by your eyes, getting alphabetized, getting filed, and you start to think, "Hey, I wonder if I ever passed Julie Rundgren-maybe sat next to her on the train or shared a smile when that guy in front of us tripped. And what of that guy? Was that Gordon Milichap?" And inevitably, you move past the point of wondering if you shared seconds with any of these people and you start to wonder more personal. Is Allisa Bagoyan married? And if ancestors of Smiths and Coopers were smiths and coopers, than what did Andre Gharakhanian's ancestors do for living?
You know what would be fun?
First of all, congratulations on your Powerball winnings! I realize that, what with splitting the winnings, none of you have the entire 365 million dollars (a million for every day of the calendar) and you're all left with a mere 22.1 million. But, I beg you to see that this is more than most people have and that puts you in a new position. Sure, go ahead and retire from ever working and give some to your family. Who wouldn't? But, after that, don't drown yourself in cars and houses and boats and parties and butlers and caviar. Take a lap in the vat of money and then, instead of vanishing from the world in a solid gold hummer, I challenge you to do something to actually better the world.
For those of you not in Chicago, let me recap for you a major news break.
I've constructed an equation that determines your poorness based on your diet. It's pretty foolproof, and surprisingly simple:
Occasionally, just occasionally, we actually do sketch comedy. I'm redoing the website, for better or for worse, and one of the first things to go was the old video page.
Episode 7 is live from the Charleston Comedy Festival, with The Royal We, a Week of Kindness, and The Cupid Players.
The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette made sure my persident's day got off on the right foot with an in depth multimedia presentation on one of Abraham Lincoln descendants living in Pennsylvania.
Internet contributes to eroding of spelling and grammar.
Also, on the train in to work, I noticed this silly (meaning stupid) piece of human behavior. Each car has four doors-two on each side and each door adjacent to one of the other side's doors. One of the adjacent sets was unable to open for one reason or another. And it really was the most amusing of sites to watch people riding the train for 15 minutes and going through 8 or 9 stops all with these doors not opening. And then, when their stop came they stood in front of those doors as if they would
On the way to work, the train brayed this warning:
Not since my infant years, have I had a rash of any concern. And that's not a figure of speech. I mean to say a rash of any concern. Those infant years brought about the dreaded diaper rash and even if I could remember, I'm positive the rash didn't reach farther than my little baby buttocks. I know this because I only wore diapers on my ass. But now, here I am at 25, a coating of red blotchy chain mail adorns my arms, torso, and legs.
for my me hair pretty someday post the other day, i googled "haircut", hoping to find a picture. what i found out was that the number one google result for "haircut" is a fairly comprehensive and specific haircut fetish video site, focusing mainly on women who shave their heads.
Guess what amazing LA sketch group that isn't Ten West just started a blog? That's right. Please welcome the Official Troop! Blog, to the lonely, lonely world of sketch blogging.
I was putting in some extra hours at IO last night when, right in the middle of a show, a transformer blew and the whole block went dark. The emergency lights came on a minute later, and by then, the interns had scrambled and lit some candles, the staff had grabbed some flashlights, and the performers gamely continued, not missing a beat.
• Set my iPod to wake me up with "I thought about you" by John Pizzarelli
...start off with a lie. I know who's calling because I see their name on the display. But I still say, "hello?", like I don't know who it is.
If you've known me for more than a year, you know my hairstyle followed a dependable cycle: rock the close crop ceasar cut, followed by six months of growth to below-the-ear length, and repeat as necessary. Those first couple weeks of the short hair are kind of sad; I look very sickly, more so than usual, I mean. I don't think I can go back to that. What's more, I think I've developed a Samson complex, whereby my long hair grants me super-bazular* powers. Unfortunately, my hair is rapidly approaching mullet status, and at some point in the very near future, it will cause more hooking-up problems than opportunities (which is the rubric by which any haircut should be measured).
As the years go on, it gets harder and harder to find a gift coming straight from the heart. So, here's a simple idea. This year, give your loved one a Valentine's Day card from Jesus:
Stoobe on a train, with Becky and Noelle, Animal Club, and Defiant Thomas Brothers.
I just tied to make it all the way through "Dream Weaver", the 70's ballad, without pressing skip. I made it 1:30 in, then gave up. I think I deserve something for my effort.
On Saturday, eight inmates were injured in the latest prison riot in a
I'm halfway through it, and here's what it's not:
Last night, I caught the first viewing of the NFL films slightly melodramatic highlight documentary on Super Bowl XL. I cried. Granted it was 3:30 in the morning, and I was loopy from the sleeping pills I'd taken, but still. I cried. I cried for Coach Cowher who got the big win he needed so bad. I cried for Jerome Bettis getting a chance to go out on top. I cried for Duce Staley who a year ago was the featured back for the Steelers, only to watch everyone else on the depth chart steadily replace him.
I'm 95% sure I just saw Danny Bonaduce talking shop on Clark Street.
Michelle Kwan withdrew from the Olympics today, effectively ending her life-long pursuit of a gold medal. It's a disappointing end to a wonderful career, and has figure skating fans around the world in tears.
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As the repel line slipped through the carelessly constructed harness, Erin Maxwell, daughter of Eleanor Maxwell, granddaughter of Elaine Maxwell-Smith, saw her life flash before her eyes.
Why not? Let's compare stats for Ward and current North Korean Great Leader Kim Jong Il:
Hines Ward's celebrity in South Korea is reaching critical mass. He's planning a trip to his native Seoul in the Spring, starting a bidding war between two Korean airlines for the honor of flying he and his mother "home".
"Hey Baz, that was "Quality Control" by Jurrasic Five, and before that we heard "Kid for Today" by Boards of Canada, and earlier on we had "Eros" by Tortoise, and some great stuff from The Band and Joan Baez. We're gonna be getting some comedy tracks with Harland Williams and Mitch Hedberg later on, but first, let's get back to the music with "Sunshine on My Shoulder" by John Denver. And you know what we say here on iTunes FM, if you don't like it, it's your fault, because you bought it!"
I just walked in on a conversation between a know-it-all conspiracy theorist and an enterprising real estate prospector. The conversation went from 'maintenance costs on rental property' to 'they let 9/11 happen so they could draft everyone' in the span of three minutes. Then, the prospector left me alone with the conspiracy theorist and I didn't know if I was supposed to say something or not. So we both made guttural noises, "mmph", "hmmm", and I left.
This morning I had one of those moments where you're walking blankly and leaving your mind open to get side-swiped by a memory long ago suppressed, not neccessarily for bad reasons, but suppressed just the same. The suppressed memory of this day was:
I'm sure everyone and their puppy knows about Britney Spears putting her baby on her lap whilst sitting in the driver's seat, a feat that sent many a parent to hysterics and many a celeb gossip-hungry consumer into foaming at the mouth. Her reason was the paparazzi was chasing her and apparently she feared for her baby's life or maybe she was just annoyed enough to put the baby's life in danger. Either way, the funniest part about this story is that the LAPD sent authorities to her home to "collect information". And, really, in a case like this, what can you possibly collect-the car, Britney, or the baby?
A team of scientists discovered a previously unknown world on New Guinea island, a remote province of Indonesia. The mist covered mountaintop is home to rare plants, a new species of bird, and tree kangaroos. But no Jimmy Hoffa.
Speaking of using politics for evil, Attorney General Alberto Gonzales testified in front of the US Senate about the legalities and possible illegalities of the wire tapping that occured. Happily, some Republicans have joined in accusations. Judiciary Chairman, Senator Arlen Specter (R.-Pa.) had this to say, "The president does not have a blank check...You think you're right, but there are a lot of people who think you're wrong." To which Gonzales responded with such cryptical phrases like, "We are continually looking at ways that we can work with the court in being more effecient and more effective." That could mean anything from cooperation to blatant ignoring of the courts and since there seems to have been, even currently, no effort to cooperate you have to assume the latter.
In other Chicago news, our city clerk, James Laski, just resigned Monday amid rumors and a pending investigation on corruption charges. Judging by the slew of resignations and indictments here in the past year, this seems to be the way a tenure in Chicago politics works. You get elected or appointed, do some corrupting for as long as possible, and depending on how well you've corrupted and covered up, you resign some time later in a storm of conspiracy. Makes you admire the boys and girls in ties here in Chi-town. And makes you wonder if this is more of a national trend and the others are just better at the middle part of it.
I just read a brief story of the band Europe, best "known" for their "hit" "The Final Countdown", which is in turn best known as the song GOB dances to when he does his magic show on Arrested Development.
This year 108 footballs were DNA encoded in an effort to crack down on an ever-growing problem here in America. That of illegal counterfeiting of Super Bowl footballs. You have to wonder whose DNA they're using since footballs don't tend to have their own DNA. I'm guessing it's all from two-time Super Bowl hero, Bart Starr
Super Sunday is over. A new day has begun. Pittsburgh rejoices. Seattle mourns. Meanwhile, in Cleveland there is hope for during the broadcast there came a commercial and in that commercial there appeared a fan with a coat. And on that coat, for millions to see, was the Browns logo shining like a beacon. And, just like that, although they would not come away with the Lombardi Trophy, the Browns made it into the Super Bowl.
Something very strange happened to me on the train today. I get on and have to stand for the first two stops, but then a seat clears. I walk over to it and start to sit down and, as I do, the train doors open for another stop and the couple sitting across from me gets up and leaves. And in a matter of seconds, I felt the pang of loss. I missed those two. I didn't know them and couldn't even point them out on a street, but I genuinely was hurt that they left before I could meet them.
Actual Tagline: This Christmas, You'd Better Watch Out!
Still a shade short of sunrise, I greet the morning with a hint of sarcasm- daybreak doesn't have the same refreshing, rejuvenating, invigorating effect if you haven't been to sleep yet.
On my way to IO this morning, I had a beautiful experience. an old man, who looked more like blue from old school than the guy to the right, was riding a bike with what was essentially scaffolding adorning the front and back of the bike, much more like the exoskeleton of the statue of liberty than the bike pictured to the right, and "change the world" by eric clapton and babyface was playing on the radio.