You're Not Really Offended

In another example of a company caving into allegedly "offending" a consumer (or potential consumer, I guess), we have a brewing company being informed by some overly sensitive individuals that their label was offensive and contained am image that should not be tolerated in our society anymore. Note: The person was a Wiccan astrologist and "healer". (Translation: She fancies herself a witch.) Side note: The image on the beer bottle was of a "witch" being burned at the stake. Wait. What now?

Correct. According to the delicious folks over there at Slashfood, the Port Brewing Company concocts a "...wheat beer, spiced with grapefruit zest, orange peel and coriander" called Lost Abbey Witch's Wit. Yummy. But it wasn't the deliciousness of the beverage that sparked the outrage of a one Vicki Noble. She is the aforementioned "witch" from the paragraph above. She saw the label on the bottle and flew off the proverbial broomstick handle! (That means she wrote a strongly worded email to the company.) Behold! Said label!

Huh. Cool. Kinda creepy. Good for Halloween sales, I would imagine. Sadly, capitalism isn't the focus of this tale. No, it's that there was a drawing of a person seemingly being burned at the stake with throngs of onlookers gathered 'round. THAT was the nugget of contention that Ms. Noble had with the beer. In her email she wrote: "Can you imagine them showing a black person being lynched or a Jewish person going to the oven?...Such images are simply not tolerated in our society anymore (thank the Goddess) and this one should not be, either." Oh, for cryin' out loud.

You know what the difference is between showing a black person being lynched or a Jewish person "going to the oven" and the depiction of someone being burned at the stake? The difference is that the first two might stir up some outrage because they actually happened. Witches being burned at the stake did not happen! You'd think that someone who claimed herself to be a witch would know that.

Are we really supposed to allow fake outrage at something that is allegedly offensive when it isn't even real? First of all, it's a drawing. It's not like there was a really nice color photo taken at the fiery event that was plastered on the bottle there. No, someone drew that. Second of all, witches that were tried during the Salem witch trials (which is what I'm assuming that she is wrongly referring to with all of her misplaced outrage) were generally hanged. I think that there were only around sixteen of them (not the gazillions like people have been led to believe) and they weren't burned at the stake. They were hanged. And finally, witches aren't real! Good Lord.

But what do you think the Port Brewing Company, of which Lost Abbey is a division, did? You got it. Instead of saying, "Tough witches teats" they instead will "...spend thousands of dollars to change the label." ::: sigh ::: What is wrong with you people?

Why would you do that? According to the article, a one brewery spokesman, a one Sage Osterfeld, said that "complaints flooded the brewery, accusing Port Brewing Company...of "inspiring violence against women. . . . We have been compared to the violence in Darfur." Oh, for Christ's sake! Are they burning people at the stake in Darfur? No? Then that's not a very good comparison then, is it? And it isn't crap like the labels on beer bottles that inspires violence against women. There are plenty of things that do inspire violence of all sorts, but I'm going to stick my neck out and say that beer bottle labels are NOT one of them. And I'd really like to know how many complaints "flooded the brewery". Ten? Regardless, if these people weren't loyal consumers of your brand, who gives a fat rat's ass? They can complain all they want; it's not like it's going to hurt sales or anything.

Port Brewing Company, I am deeply saddened by your actions. There is no reason why you should have had to change your awesome label. Why couldn't you have just told those who were all fake outraged that you were sorry? What did you think was going to happen if you didn't change the label? Were you afraid that they would cast a spell upon you? Psst! I'm going to let you in on a little secret. That doesn't work!

It's a shame, Port Brewing Company. Had I heard about this and heard that you did not cave in to fake outrage over a non-existent issue, I would have been tempted to go out and buy up your wonderful beverage by the truckload. But now? Now, not so much. Now I just see you as another cowardly company (not that I had ever heard of your before today, mind you, but I'm just saying) who would rather give power to the undeserving rather than stand up for what is right. I won't be buying any of your beverages in the future. Do you think that changing your label is going to make all of those "witches" flock to buy your product? I think not. Good choice, though. Reeeaaaalllly good choice.

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Halloween Candy From Hell

And Happy Halloween. Halloween is a weird-ass holiday if you're asking me. It's like the ultimate in contradictions when raising a child. You drill things into your child's head (Not literally! Yes, I know it's Halloween, but cranial drilling of one's offspring is never acceptable.) to keep them safe. Things like the old "Don't take candy from strangers." Then, after the kids think that they're clear on the concept, along rolls Halloween and BAM! Confusion runs amok. Not only are they going to be taking candy from strangers on Halloween, they're going to be encouraged to do so. AND they don't even have to wait for the strangers to come to them! No, they can randomly go to people's homes, knock on their door and ASK them to give them candy! And the strangers comply!! OH, but wait! There's a catch! You must ask strangers for candy only if you are dressed up in some sort of scary-ish garb. That's it? That's the catch? Deal! And the merriment begins!

Now if you're a grown-up, or you play one on TV, or even if you stayed at a Holiday Inn Express last night, it is your job to get candy for these small people that you do not know. My advice is simple: Don't screw it up. You must remember what it was like when you were a child and you went Trick-or-Treating and ended up with horrible candy at the end of the night. It's not pleasant. And as a child, you really feel like you were ripped off somehow by coming home with a bag full of crap. You need to remember that feeling and make sure that you don't continue to pass it around to the hopeful and unsuspecting youngsters who will trample your flowers instead of using the perfectly good walkway as they traipse to your door in search of sugary handouts.

Thus, here are several items that you need to avoid distributing to jovial children who have donned bedsheets for the evening.

• First up are the inexplicable Boston Baked Beans. These are not good. Why someone thought that they could make a candy that looks like and is named after a picnic side dish is beyond me. No one wants candy that is pretending to be a bean. Beans aren't all that fun.
  


• Next up are the Dum Dums. First of all, Dum Dums are way too small for any good use. Second, they never taste like the flavor that the wrapper says. And third, you almost always, for some reason, end up with the cream soda flavored Dum Dums or the pineapple flavored Dum Dums. Probably because the folks handing them out took out all of the good ones. If you're going to hand out lollipops, go with a Tootsie Roll Pop. You can't go wrong with those

• Necco Wafers. From what I can tell, Necco Wafers are Tums antacid tablets that have been flattened out and dusted with sugar. They do not taste good. Contrary to what the waxy wrapper says down there, they are not "an American Classic" and the "flavors" are not "great." Avoid at all costs.

• The general assortment of hard candies. As a rule, if it is a candy that is typically found in a grandmother's purse, you really want to avoid handing those out on Halloween. Especially the butterscotch ones. Children to not like butterscotch. Adults do not like butterscotch. Those elderly women with the candies in their purses? Right, even they don't like butterscotch, that's why they're always giving it away.

• One of the more perplexing candies out there, the Idaho Spud. This is a candy that is supposed to look like an Idaho potato. The thing is, it doesn't really look like that. It looks more like....well, um....OK, fine I'll say it, the thing looks like poo! And no one wants poo on Halloween. Ever. Hand out Necco Wafers before you hand out poo-like treats.

• Now we arrive at the Tootsie Roll. If you must give out Tootsie Rolls, give out a bunch of them to each kid. Those of you who give A Tootsie Roll to A kid are just angry, angry individuals who should probably seek counseling. You'll feel much better about things if you toss a handful of Tootsie Rolls into a kid's bag and watch them shriek with joy (until they realize they were just Tootsie Rolls). It's a lot better than watching them stare at you as you drop A Tootsie roll into their bag. Much better.
  

• Another candy that is not for children and is barely for adults is the Big Hunk. Big Hunk of what has always been my question. This thing is disgusting. It's like some sort of conglomeration of leftovers from another candy making process. Look at it! No one wants that.

• You want to see how close you can get a kid to crying on Halloween? Hand out raisins. What a waste of a walk from the sidewalk to the front door only to be given a very tiny box of raisins which you will not eat. You will use them as ammunition for torturing siblings. You will also use them as a counting aid when trying to figure out how many of them will fit up the dog's nose. You will not eat them.

• Finally, we arrive at the "feel good" treats. Oh, but they're not making the kids "feel good". No, they're making the smug, sanctimonious treat giver "feel good". Those kind of people like to be "practical" on Halloween. (Liking to be "practical" also seems to equate to "liking removing rolls and rolls of toilet paper from the front yard foliage the next morning." Go figure.) There is no place for anything "practical" when a bunch of people under four feet tall and running around the neighborhood, anticipating free candy AND getting it. Nothing practical about that and that's how it should be. Thus, no pencils, erasers, or any other type of school supply. If that was what the kids were after, they just would have gone over to Office Max and knocked on their door.

• The only folks who are allowed to hand out dental floss, toothbrushes or toothpaste are dentists and other professional individuals who do business inside of the mouth (preferably those with degrees and licenses, not hanging out on street corners under neon blinking lights that say "Massage"). But even then, they can only hand out those things at their office! At their home, they're not a dentist, they're a candy guy. So keep your floss to yourself and fork over the Snickers.

See? It's very simple. Avoid the stuff on this list, hand out stuff that kids want, and you'll be fine. Most importantly, whatever you do, just have a good time and just have good candy.

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Go Directly To Hell

Today's senseless baby death comes from (of course) Flori-duh and involves a *rolls dice* woman who was *rolls dice* angry that her baby was crying while *rolls dice* she was playing Farmville on Facebook and so she *rolls dice* shook him to death. Dislike.

It's just as sick and disgusting as it sounds. According to the New York Daily News, a one 22-year old (and old enough to know better) Alexandra V. Tobias has has pleaded guilty to second-degree murder in the shaking death of her 3-month old son, Dylan Lee Edmondson. See, she was playing freaking Farmville on Facebook and eventually "...confessed to losing her temper while trying to concentrate on the game." Trying to concentrate on the game? It's freaking FARMVILLE. But regardless of how much concentration it did or did not require, shouldn't you have been paying more attention to your baby in the first place? Yeah, I think you are. Moron.

Just so it's clear what a piece of shoe scum this woman is, "...she confessed to shaking the baby, smoking a cigarette to calm down and then shaking the baby again." Sooo, apparently that cigarette didn't do a whole lot of calming down, eh? Wow, lady. You really are a nutjob. But, really, have I been clear enough on what a horrible and useless individual this woman is? Not quite? Well, when the baby was taken to the hospital, he was found to have "...head injuries and a broken leg". And "Doctors said the infant died from "abusive head trauma." What in the hell is wrong with you?

You shook the kid so hard that you broke his freaking leg?! He was three months old, you bitch. And all because you had to "concentrate" on your G-D farm that isn't even real! There's a special place in hell for people like her and the sooner she gets to it, the better as far as I'm concerned.

Oh, and by the way, she looks just about like you'd expect her to. Behold!

By the way, cupcake...there isn't Farmville in prison. Enjoy!

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R.I.P Paul

There's been a celebrity death. If you haven't heard, brace yourself. Are you braced? ARE YOU?? Good. Here we go. The beloved cephalopod mollusc, a one Paul the Octopus, has died. Wait. What?

Paul the Octopus. He's dead. Dead I said. (I'm feeling a bit of a Dr. Seuss eulogy coming on here. I must refrain.) You remember Paul, don't you? He was the octopus in Oberhausen, Germany, who lived at the Sea Life Center. Paul was able to correctly "predict" the winner of all of the matches that Germany played at the 2010 World Cup, including the final. Here's how it worked: One of the Sea Life Center folks would put an octopus treat (I'm guessing something similar to a Scooby Snack) in two clear plastic boxes. One box had the flag of Germany on it and the other box had the flag of Germany's opponent on it. Whichever box that Paul opened first to get his little Octopus Ort (it just doesn't have the same ring to it as Scooby Snack does), that was supposed to be the winner. And, surprisingly enough, in this case, it was the winner...seven times in a row.

But now he's dead at the ripe old octopus age of 2-1/2. Apparently, that is normal for an octopus. And while that may be interesting to you and me, I highly doubt that ol' Paul is finding the fascination in it right about now. But the way that this is being treated in the press, you'd think that one of the leaders of the free world had just croaked it. It seems to be getting an awful lot of ink (pun probably intended) for an octopus. But not everyone is in mourning (or craving calamari) right now. No, according to The Hindu (the publication, not a random guy), a one Diego Maradona, the former coach of the Argentina team, is not in mourning. The chap seems to be rather happy, as indicated in a freaking tweet that read, "I am happy your gone Psychic Octopus, it’s your fault we lost the World Cup." I see. After someone explains to Mr. Maradona that there is no such thing as a "psychic octopus", could someone then explain to him that "you're" is the correct form of "you are" that he was looking for there? Thank you.

And see, I would have found it amusing that someone was so into the whole dead octopus scene if it were not for this blurb at the end of the article: "Paul died early Tuesday of natural causes. His passing was mourned by the world football community and the aquarium in Oberhausen announced it would set up a small monument in his honour." Oh, for cryin' out loud.

A small monument? For a lucky octopus? Really? What kind of a small monument are we talking about here? A large bowl of cocktail sauce, perhaps? I don't get it. And as long as I'm on the subject of things I don't get, what was I supposed to infer from learning that he died of "natural causes"? As opposed to what? Being snuffed out by his lesser known cousin, The Unlucky Squid? Well, that would depend on who you're asking. Wait. What now?

If you ask a Chinese filmmaker named Jiang Xiao (pronounce that however you'd like) she'll tell you “I am 60 to 70 per cent sure that Paul died on July 9th (two days before the World Cup final) and the Germans have been covering up his death and fooling us for a long time.” Really? 60 to 70 percent sure? A little over half sure? Well, OK, then! Seriously? Really? That's like a C-minus at best. I'm not so sure that I'd call that grounds for "a cover up". I might call it grounds to get some inane publicity for your forthcoming film about nothing, though.

Really. According to something called The Spec, "Shortly...after picking Spain over his native Germany in the semis, he received anonymous death threats." Someone threatened an octopus? How would the octopus know? Could this octopus also read? Did it correspond with fans? What the hell is going on over there in German aquariums?! That seems to be the real issue at this point!

The unpronounceable conspiracy theorist filmmaker (there's a title for a business card for you) claims that the "Paul" that was in the tank making all of the predictions was really another octopus that had been switched out. What evidence does this nutjob have for this theory? "(Octopuses) all look the same. It is impossible to tell the difference.” You know what else looks the same? Crazy. Crazy looks the same no matter who it is who's boasting all of the crazy. The octopus is dead. Get over it.

And P.S. If he had picked all six winning Powerball numbers one week, then you would have had my attention. Actually, if it had been something other than soccer you would have had my attention. Couldn't he have been put to use for a more exciting sport?

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Call Me Senator

I've become less and less enamored with Senator Barbara Boxer (D-CA). Actually, I don't think I was ever all that enamored with her in the first place. Can you be enamored with a potted plant? I don't think that you can. And that's about what I think of Barbara Boxer. My final straw with her was summer of 2009. She was in some sort of hearing where an Army general was testifying. As per how the military is trained, he addressed her as "Ma'am." She didn't like that very much and interrupted him in order to tell him that she preferred being addressed as "Senator" because, as she put it, she "worked so hard to get that title".

That's what she was worried about. Being called "Senator" as opposed to being called "ma'am". Mind you, she called him "sir" as opposed to "General". I'm pretty sure that he worked pretty hard to get that title as well. I guess that he just wasn't as petty as she was and didn't feel the need to point that out to her at the time. He wasn't being disrespectful. If anything, he was treating her with the utmost respect. But whatever. She treated him like crap for no reason is the bottom line. She's a bit of a blowhard. And I'm apparently not the only one who thinks so.

Enter a one David Zucker. Mr. Zucker is a reformed liberal who was also a main part of the group of folks who made such awesome satirical movies such as "Naked Gun" and "Airplane!" That sort of experience really proves to come in handy when one wants to make a video which mocks Barbara Boxer for her elitist position about her, um, well, her position. And it's hilarious. It's win-win. See the awesomeness for yourself below.

By the way, my dislike for Barbara Boxer should be in no way interpreted as an endorsement for Carly Fiorina. While I think Carly has potential, I just don't know about her in the capacity as Senator. That doesn't mean that I think Barbara Boxer should stay put. I hate having only two viable choices. It only serves to make me feel all the more scroomed.

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Welcome Back, Charlie Sheen!

I love me a daily tale of some on-the-edge celebrity who does something ridiculous AGAIN and then has a publicist issue the lamest of all excuses as to what went wrong. Today's continuing disaster is Charlie Sheen.

Charlie Sheen is an interesting example of how one can choose to live their life, handle the consequences and still come out on top. The guy is the highest paid actor in television. Granted, Two And A Half Men is a hilarious show, but it is so hilarious that Charlie deserves to be paid somewhere between $1.10 million and $1.5 million per episode? I wouldn't really think so, but I'm not in charge of that stuff.

The best part of the exorbitant amount of money that he makes is that he earns it by playing a character that is, in essence, himself. And "himself" is a womanizing, drinking, crass, immature, clueless guy. Oh, he's also the guy who holds a knife to his wife's throat and threatens to kill her on Christmas. Allegedly. He's a peach, that Charlie.

The thing is that he "gets away" with all of this because he doesn't pretend to be anything else. That is who he is and he seems to be rather proud of it. Apparently, that is all that we (as society) are looking for in a public figure. Just be who you are and don't deny it and we'll put up with just about anything. Now, if you're Tiger Woods and you're pretending to be this upstanding family man, all the while you're sleeping with every roadside coffee shop waitress that you can find, the public doesn't like that very much. But don't deny that fact that you're Charlie Sheen and we'll not only watch your show every week, we'll cheer you on while we're doing it.

But if you're the kind of guy who holds a knife to his wife's throat on Christmas, it's only a matter of time before we hear of more of your antics. And antics, they have surface. According to the huffy folks over there at The Huffington Post "Charlie Sheen was hospitalized Tuesday for a psychiatric evaluation after a woman told police he was throwing furniture and yelling in his hotel room". Of course he was. Awesome.

Now, when law enforcement showed up around 2am, "...Sheen appeared highly intoxicated". You don't say?! Really?! HIGHLY intoxicated? Huh. Who'd a thunk it? Well, if you're his publicist, a one thinking we were all born yesterday Mr. Stan Rosenfeld, no one would think that his appearing "highly intoxicated" would be a factor in what "really" happened. Yeah, see, according to him, "Charlie had an adverse allergic reaction to some medication and was taken to the hospital." Oh, for cryin' out loud.

Yes, I'd say that it must have been a very adverse reaction to cause him to strip completely naked and start throwing furniture around. Good Lord, that really is adverse. Is there some sort of a warning label on the side of his medication that indicates that is something to look out for? You know, "Serious side effects, including dizziness, shortness of breath, lack of an erection, an erection lasting more than four hours, blurry vision, blood clots, stroke, and/or stripping naked and throwing furniture in your hotel room may occur. Consult your physician immediately if you experience any of these symptoms while taking this medication." Yeah, I'm not thinking that's what it says.

And you know that his being naked and throwing furniture around are only a few of the details of what really happened. And if those are the details that we're privy to at the moment, it's only going to get better when more details are released! Awesome. I can't wait. I love me a train wreck.

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Can't We Work Through This Rationally?

I've had it with all of this talk about whether or not people who are gay should be allowed to openly serve in the military. Do you want to know why this topic now only serves to irritate and annoy me whenever it is brought up? It's because no one is using any factual basis for their opinions at all and the whole debate is solely based on what people feel would be best.

I'm not going to pretend that I know what would be best in this situation. Do I think it would be great if folks who were gay were allowed to serve in the military openly? Sure, but only under one condition. That condition being that it won't lessen the chances of success for any given task and/or mission that the troops are on. Now, you might be asking yourself, "How could it possibly be a detriment for folks who are openly gay to serve in the military?" To which I would answer, "I don't know." But that's what my answer would be. Other people, those who are running their lives based solely on what they feel, might answer, "It's a ridiculous policy! It should immediately cease and desist! Gays should be out and about in the military because it's the right thing!" OK, OK. Hold on a minute there, cowboy.

I don't know anything about the military other than they keep me and my country safe. Oh, and I also know that they can kick some serious ass. That's what I want my military to be. If the safety of myself and my country means that those who are gay cannot serve openly in the military, then so be it. However, if that is, in fact, the case, I'd like it to be backed up by some sort of facts based on some sort of comprehensive study which is conducted by folks who know what they're dealing with military-wise.

Is that so much to ask? Look, that's all I want. I want some sort of factual basis which determines it to be perfectly OK to end the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy and that the result isn't a compromised military. That's all. Do you think that devising policy based upon how you feel instead of based upon some sort of facts or investigation is really the way to go? I can't imagine that it is. Yet, if you'll look around at a lot of the fiscal problems that many states and the entire country are in the throes of, you'll start seeing a trend in the number of "feel good" programs that require a great deal of money. Are they necessary programs? Are they effective programs? Are they being implemented correctly? Who knows? All a lot of folks know is that it makes them feel good that those sort of programs are in place. And it's caused me to lose my WTL (will to live) on occasion.

Just wait for the study, folks. If you're so confident (even though you have no basis to base your confidence on) that it's just fine for gays to serve openly in the military, then what is the harm in waiting for this huge, comprehensive study that the Pentagon is conducting to wrap up? Seriously, do you really want to risk the safety of the troops that protect you just because you're all thumbs up for diversity? I can't imagine that people would, but yet, they do.

I'm going to need a prescription for some Xanax soon. I'm just saying

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The Worst Cartoon Ever

The awesome folks over there at Urlesque had a little feature called "13 Old Cartoons You Didn't Think Anyone Else Watched". It was awesome. But after reading it and watching some of the old cartoons, I'm fairly convinced that no one watched them. That is, except The Ant and The Aardvark, which aired during episodes of The Pink Panther. That was awesome. The rest of those cartoons are simply crap.

But the one which I found to be absolutely awful as well as inexplicable was The Gary Coleman Show. Yes. That is correct. The Gary Coleman Show. From what I can tell, the Gary Coleman character is an angel that is sent back down to earth by some school marm looking angel who wears gladiator sandals (which is strange since she's an angel and lives in the clouds where there really isn't a pressing need for footwear). I guess he's supposed to do good deeds. I'm not really sure. I'm more interested in what the story was behind the dead kid, but I don't really think that they got into that very much back then. (By the way, I'm merely assuming that he's a small child in this cartoon. For all I know, he could have been an adult. Hard to tell with that guy.)

The point here is that is appears to have been terrible and I cannot believe that anyone watched it. Actually, I can't believe that anyone thought that this thing was a good idea in the first place. Who comes up with these things? What was it that made someone think that what the world was clamoring for at the time was a Gary Coleman cartoon where he's an angel? And after whoever it was voiced this opinion, who in the world was it that agreed with that individual?

I've included a sample of this madness below. It's only the opening credits, but it's enough for you to grasp just how horrible it was (and still is, in a way). If you need some of the actual crap show, do a You Tube search. There are a few on there for you to gape in amazement at.

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That's NOT How You Got Pregnant

There was a headline over at The Huffington Post today that I just loved. And when I say "just loved" I mean "just made me want to stab my myself". The headline read "Man Loses iPod, Accidentally Impregnates Wife". Uh-huh. I'm going to need to know more about this, even though I'm guessing that it will increase the urge to stab.

The headline is referring to an iPhone Touch. But the guy in question (lots of questions), a one Doug Wilson, also has an iPhone 4 which he carries around in his hand all of the time. Literally. The guy doesn't put it in his pocket because, according to what he told those at the fledgling CNN, that "...would be too risky, he said, because he might miss a photo opportunity -- like that crazy "rat tail" hairdo he saw at a fast-food spot recently. ("I was like, 'I've GOT to take a picture of this!')" Um, yeah. OK. Wouldn't want to miss that! All rightee, then. Where does the pregnancy come in?

Well, somehow, this guy managed to find himself a wife at some point, a one probably lovely Ashlee. I'm guessing it was before he started carrying around his iPhone 4 with him whenever he is awake. Just a hunch. Anyway, he claims that it was Ashlee whom he "...accidentally impregnated one evening after forgetting to look at an iPod app that explains the details of the rhythm method." Wait a minute. What now?

Correct. He told CNN "That's how we got pregnant...because I lost my [iPod Touch]." If you'll excuse me for a moment, I need to find a wall upon which I'm going to bang my head for a few seconds.

OK, I'm back. Ow. Where was I? Oh, that's right. I was about to bellow "THAT'S NOT HOW YOUR WIFE GOT PREGNANT!" Your wife got pregnant because you had SEX. It's all of the SEX that gets one pregnant, NOT the app! I'm sure that it won't surprise you to learn that this man, who believes that his iPod has the power of spermatozoa, is from Arkansas. I kind of figured that something like that was in play when he got so excited about the guy with the rat tail hair.

The story doesn't conclude with Doug saying that he has now learned what the rhythm method entails or that he's invested heavily in a nice, large supply of condoms or, most importantly, that his iPod had NOTHING to do with his wife getting pregnant. Nope. None of those. It concludes with Doug asserting that "...the slip-up was yet another reminder that his phone should be turned on, in his hand, ready to accept alerts -- all the time." Good Lord. Really? It wasn't even your PHONE that had the damned app on it! (In other news, there's an app that details the rhythm method for you. According to iphoneapples.com "There are currently 180 apps available in the App Store that help women calculate their time of the month." Huh. So, 180 calendar apps are available. Good to know. Morons.)

While I am glad that they are thrilled about the impending birth of their little girl, I'm a bit afraid for that child. Granted, things were a little stacked against her in the first place, what with the Arkansas locale and all. But this whole "I got my wife knocked up because I couldn't find my iPod" is a bit troubling. I wonder if there's an app that will help one reduce the dependence upon apps? A bit ironic, sure. But in this case, probably warranted.

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