Coming Soon!

Need something to wash down that s*** sandwich that I discussed a couple of days ago? How about an apple flavored shot of horse semen? No? Are you sure? Because they're out there and, apparently, there are people who are paying to have this...experience? I don't know what to call this at all. Really. I'm running out of words to describe the idiotic.

According to the Dominion Post, "...Apple-infused horse semen shots...are part of the central Wellington pub's entry in the nationwide 14th annual Monteith's Beer & Wild Food Challenge". Wow. Challenge accepted, eh? Holy crap. How this made it onto the menu at the Green Man Pub after the "challenge" is beyond me. But apparently, people (mostly women) want to try it.

It is what it says that it is. It's horse jizz with the lovely taste of apples infused in it, presumably ruining the lovely taste of apples. And according to the article, "...the drink was proving most popular with women." Jesus. Ladies, you're not helping anything by drinking one of those. Not helping a thing. This just turns the whole thing into one big game of "Let's see what else she'll buy!" And I'm pretty sure that's how the world ended up with thousand dollar purses and fifteen hundred dollar shoes! And considering that 20 vials of the...stuff costs $300 dollars, this sort of stupidity isn't going to come cheap. (Pun SO not intended. I barely want to write about this, let alone brainstorm up witty little mannerisms.)

The chef at the Green Man Pub, a one Jason Varley, "...admits to trying the drink himself which he said was "ok", and "like custard"." No, it doesn't. I haven't tried, nor am I going to. But I can tell you right now that it does not taste "like custard". You know what does taste "like custard"? That's right. Custard! Not...this. Or...that. You know what I mean! It does not taste like custard! It doesn't taste like chicken, either, so don't even go there! If something has to taste "like" something else, why don't you just eat the something else? That's why I don't eat things that are made out of tofu. "It tastes like chicken, but it's really tofu." What's the point in that? Just eat some damn chicken. Same with this...stuff. If it tastes like custard, dear God, please have some custard instead.

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A Horse Is A Horse, Of...Course?

Seriously? I've got nothing today. It's not like it's a totally slow news day, but pretty much. They're still protesting in Wisconsin and there isn't a Democrat Senator in sight. Sarah Palin has spoken up and stated that President Barry's problem is that he's inexperienced. This coming straight from the mouth of a woman who didn't quite manage to finish out half a term as governor. We've got a college professor at Northwestern University who apologized for the live demonstration for one of his classes of a couple of people using a sex toy. (A sex toy that, as it turned out, was attached to the end of a reciprocating saw, for cryin' out loud.) And the Nissan Leaf, the car that was supposed to cut our nation's dependence on oil so that we can stop kissing the ass of the sand lands, managed to sell 67 in the month of February. Not 6,700. Not 67,000. 67. (Mind you, we're a country of over 300,000,000 people. They sold 67. Gas is going to be $4 a gallon any day now. And you and I are going to be bending over at the pump and paying it. We are so scroomed.) And while that seems like a lot of stuff to choose from, it all just makes my ass so incredibly tired I cannot even tell you. (And yeah, I don't know what the deal is with that sheep. But it kind of sums everything up in a weird sort of way.)

So for today, compliments of BuzzFeed, what say we just enjoy the best family portrait ever. At least, I think it's the best. It could be the worst. All I know is that it has a little bit of everything. Daughter with a look of despair on her face and what appears to be an expired guinea pig hanging from her belt. A woman in a wheelchair in the background. Dad with an arm garter with one dollar bills tucked into it. Did I mention that the dad is also wearing some sort of horse costume so that he looks like a centaur? He is. And the mom with a child's airline pilot wings stuck to her forehead and her ample cleavage mostly squashed into her failing corset. There's no telling how far south these folks live. I'm also going to guess that there isn't a full set of teeth between the three of them. Behold!

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Vladimir's Big, Busy, Shirtless Day

Well, since it's August, you know what that means. That's right. Time for Vladimir Putin to take off his shirt!

Wait. Time...time for...? What now?

Time for Vladirmir Putin to take off his shirt, that is correct. Putin (or The Pooter, as I'm sure he likes to be called. Try it sometime and see!) is the former President of Russia and he's currently the Prime Minister. In Russia, "Prime Minister" is equivalent to "Dude Behind the Scenes Who's Really Calling the Shots". He was elected President twice and according to the Rules of Electing Russian Leaders, you can only be elected twice. But if he had been able to run for a third term, he would have likely won. So they figured, why ruin a good thing? And that's how he came to be named Prime Minister!

Clearly, if they had wanted him for a third term, it shows that he's pretty well liked over there. In the 7th year of his Presidency he was enjoying President Barry-esque approval numbers which hovered around 70%. Considering how big Russia is, that's pretty impressive. And also considering how unpopular the past leaders of Russia have been, it's a wonder that the folks over there would admit to liking anyone.

But back to the Shirtless Augusts. Perhaps one of the reasons that The Pooter is so popular is that he seems to be the model of fitness for a 57-year old male living in Russia (which is part of the deal; you have to live there if you're going to be all leader-y and stuff). And it seems like every August he shows off that fitness by engaging in various outdoor activities somewhere in the vastlands of Russia so that he can be photographed so that all the world can see his 57-year old hairless torso in all of its glory. Behold!

It's a bit unnerving is what it is. The guy is like a real life action figure complete with all of the accessories. And he wants everyone to know it. Behold!

And yes, this has happened for the past three Augusts. Things are just moving along smoothly in the world and then BAM! There's Putin without a shirt and on some sort of rugged testosterone holiday.

I can't help but wonder, in the phallic photo below, if he's doing some sort of mental comparison between that tree part there and his own Russki manhood. If I had to guess, I'd guess Putin wins. Great. Another reason for this to be slightly unnerving.

If I recall correctly, it was right around the time that Not-Yet-President Barry was photographed in his swim trunks in Hawaii that the shirtless Putin pics began to get more notice. I think The Pooter had something to do with it. He was going to make sure that everyone knew that he was just as buff as our own Changey McOptimism was. But he was also going to make sure that everyone knew how versatile he and his physique could be. And he also wanted to make sure that we saw the sensitive side of the former KGB agent who allegedly has a talent for poisoning those he needs to "be gone"! Allegedly. And all the while looking like he could kick President Barry's arse. Behold!

After looking at a bunch of these pics, I started to feel like I had stumbled into some sort of Russian GQ photo shoot.

All of this definitely highlights his versatility as one who can survive in the wilderness AND kick your ass, as well as someone who enjoys long walks and animals. Here he is as the fishing Prime Minister:

And here he is as the sensitive, walking atop pebbles alongside the shallow river Prime Minister.

Here he is in a submarine diving to the bottom of the world's deepest lake (just because he could).

And here he is stopping to pet a little dog (or to entice him to get closer so that he can have a snack. Putin, not the dog).

Here is the Putin trifecta consisting of his judo, his hunting, and his shirtless,crucifix wearing fishing motifs.

And here he is on his way to audition for "Brokeback Mountain in Moscow".

Are we sure he isn't gay and opening for The Village People somewhere in Vegas?

Huh. No, I guess we don't know that at all, do we?

I'll tell you this: If he is ever looking for work, maybe he could do a tampon commercial. He can go swimming and hiking and fishing and horseback riding...!!!

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No Horsing Around, This Guy is Unstable

Here's a fairly good example of how a story can go from bad to worse to "Oh my God" rather quickly.

The Bad: A man in Longs, South Carolina was arrested on Monday night.

The Worse: For having sex with a horse.

Oh my God: Again.

From the front page of the What The Hell Manual and also from the The New York Daily News, we learn of a one 50-year old (and definitely old enough to know better that that!) Rodell Vereen who was arrested Monday night when police were called by the owner of the unwilling equine participant (otherwise known as "the horse") who had stakes out her stables in the hopes of catching said horse humper engaging in the absolutely perverse act of inter-species relations.

I suppose I shouldn't characterize it as inter-species relations and should instead give the proper name for what Rodell was charged with. That would be one count of buggery. (Can I go back to inter-species relations, please?) What now?

What the hell is buggery? Basically, buggery is the cousin of your pal sodomy over there. It's not defined very well in the statute, but it does say that it is an act that is "a carnal copulation against nature; a man or a woman with a brute beast, a man with a man, or a man unnaturally with a woman." So a woman with a woman would be OK? Excellent. I particularly enjoy the term "brute beast" as that could also define a few men I've dated. (I really have to find a way to inject the term "carnal copulation" into more conversations. It's a bit showy, but I like it.) I'm not sure why they call it "buggery" in the current day and age, but it used to be punishable by death, so I'm willing to overlook what it's called and just be thankful that it is unlawful to copulate carnally against nature and the like. Very thankful.

So, back to the buggery! It seems that a one Barbara Kenley, the owner of the Lazy B Stables, had caught Rodell "...having sex with a horse on Thanksgiving Day of 2007." Now, that doesn't sound like anything to be thankful for, especially if you're the horse! He did end up pleading guilty in July, 2008 to said buggery and was sentenced to three years probation and ordered to get some mental health counseling. (Some good mental health counseling.) And told not to go near Lazy B Stables. Must be the time of year for him or something like that because here it is July again and Rodell's bugging around in the stables again. Maybe it's the heat.

Whatever it is, it's disgusting. Recently, Barbara Kenley had noticed that one of her horses, Sugar, had been developing infections. Again. On top of that, she noticed that some of the items in the barn, like her folding chair, had been moved. And unfortunately, Barbara knew what that meant and installed a bunch of surveillance cameras to videotape her stables when she wasn't around. And again, unfortunately she ended up seeing Rodell acting like a perverted Mr. Ed with her Sugar. More unfortunate than that was that she took the videotape to the police and they told her they couldn't arrest anyone because they couldn't identify anyone in the video. Well, anyone other than the horse. Oh, I imagine it was clear that someone else was in the video with the horse, but they just couldn't see who that individual was.

But Barbara knew who it was and she was going to do something about it. According to the Sun News, on Monday night "...she went to check on the horses and saw an unknown vehicle parked near her property." Upon further investigation she found Rodell "...behind a barn where the horses are kept and pointed a shotgun at him." (Probably not what he had in mind when he was thinking about a little foreplay.) She then called the cops from her cell and pointed the shotgun at him until the cops arrived and arrested him. Again.

When she confronted him and asked him what he was doing in her barn, he came up with the worst possible answer ever (well, the worst possible answer next to having sex with the animals) and told her that "...he was looking for a bathroom." Dude. You seem to be pretty familiar with horses. (Yeah, familiar in the Biblical sense....if Eve was a horse.) Was that woman really supposed to believe that you thought there was a bathroom in the stable? Even if she was, she didn't. Her response? "I told him he was full of crap." Then she said that "He apologized and said he didn't mean to hurt me.'' Um, OK?

Hey, horse humper! It's not the woman who you were hurting. Oh, sure, there's the psychological and emotional aspect of it, but when we're talking about the sexual violation of something that is not human, psychological and emotional take a back seat (or saddle) to the "brute beast", as the buggery statute would call it.

Now I'm not going to justify anything he did, though I am glad that he was on probation at the time of the filly fornicating and is currently in jail. But to do something like this is one thing, but to do it again after you've been caught? And at the scene of the crime again?? How does something like that get explained? Well, over there in the Atlanta Journal Constitution a forensic psychiatrist in Atlanta, a one Tracey Marks, says that “Just as people consider marijuana to be a gateway to other things, the Internet has been a gateway for bestiality to becoming more ordinary."

Um, the only thing that marijuana has been a "gateway" to is Twinkies. But I see what she's saying about the Internet. The Internet brings people together and not always in a good way. If you ever felt like you were the only one in the entire world that enjoys a nice romantic evening with a bale of hay, perhaps a carrot or two, and the equine fantasy of your choosing, you'll never feel alone again if you can access the Internet. (And not so you can go out and buy yourself a damn horse to avert said hypothetical loneliness either. Pervert.) You'll find people all over the country, hell, you'll find them all over the world! People who are just like you! Sick and wrong. It's a gateway to the congregation of the sick and the wrong. As long as they do it on a faraway deserted island, more power to 'em. Just keep them the hell away from me. AND the horses.

Man. Talk about unstable.

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Today's News - Now With Chickens!

There's some stuff you just can't make up. No matter how hard you try, you'd never come up with stuff like this. Headline over there across the pond at the BBC News: One legged hen's horseback return. Wait. What now? One legged hen? OK, shouldn't 'News' have been in quotes? Unless that one-legged hen can talk, I'm thinking the term 'news' is probably used pretty liberally in the context that it was.

It seems that a hen, yes a hen, a hen was rescued from the clutches/jaws of a fox, but not before the fox could chomp off a leg. (But can you blame him? Chicken legs? Good stuff!) According to a one Mrs. Marian Nicol, it was her son who "found the injured hen lying on her back after hearing a noise where the chickens were kept. Her leg had been chewed by the fox." Hence why she was lying on her back. It's not like she could hop around and hop for help. It is a chicken. They do have their limitations and breathing and walking are about the sum total of them.

The hen, who goes by the name of Peggy for some reason, apparently used to "land on the backs of the horses and sit there", but that was before all of the leg mauling. "Since her leg was damaged she hasn't been able to jump up there, but we sometimes lift her up and she will sit there." Well, what else is she going to do? She has one leg. You just said it! One leg!

Mrs. Nicol said that her and her son "treated" Peggy and "she is making a good recovery." They don't explain what all it entailed when they "treated" her. Had the chicken not been riding on the back of a horse, I would have just assumed that the "treatment" consisted of 11 herbs and spices.

There is a video of this oddity in the animal kingdom. It's not long and it's just like what it sounds like it is. It's a chicken. On the back of a horse. And the horse is walking. Ta-DA! At one point, Mrs. Nicol is heard to say about Peggy that she's "Just as happy as a hen in, um, uh, clover?" What the heck does that mean? A hen in clover? Do hens like clover? I've spent a lot of time on farms and I do not recall seeing any clover anywhere near the hens. A hen in clover? (Well, they're clearly not four-leafed clovers, as if they had been, that chicken might still have two legs.) How about if we come up with a more appropriate metaphor? How about happy as a hen in barbeque sauce? Or happy as a hen in a casserole? Happy as a hen in a biscuit?

You can view a 30-second video of the hen atop the horse over at this link. It's nothing profound, but it is there. You wouldn't think that it would be that hard to know what it was that you're most interested in filming if you're the one with the camcorder, but it was seemingly not so obvious to whomever was doing the filming, as most of the time it's a wide shot of the horse's arse with half of a chicken on top of him. The chicken! You're supposed to focus on the chicken! The story is "Chicken Rides Horse" not "Horse's Ass Grows Chicken"! Detail! Detail!

For some reason, there's a lot of chicken news being covered by the BBC lately. There's also the story of a cockerel (which I believe is the equivalent in the United States to a rooster) named Basil who was adopted by a farmer after Basil was evicted from a Tyneside housing estate where he had taken up residence. Basil was asked to leave because he was crowing loudly in the early morning hours. (He is a rooster. They do do that.) Apparently, this rooster was a hot topic for quite some time over there. But it's good to know that people on other parts of the globe are just as idiotic as some of the folks here in the US because of course Basil ended up with his own Facebook group. (We're so doomed.)

The article says that after numerous complaints "housing officials (had) to issue the bird with a notice to quit." I'm just guessing that since it was a bird that it was unable to read the notice it had just been issued. And even if it could read it, I'm guessing he didn't care.) People even wrote letters to the Queen asking for her to intervene! It's a chicken, people! (Look, I don't know a lot about the royalty thing that goes on over there, but is that one of the official powers of the Queen? Intervention with Poultry? If so, is it just chickens or are there others birds that she can have not evicted as well? And my final question, are these royal powers of the Queen limited to only birds and if so, is it only the tasty ones?)

A one Claire Thorburn ended up taking Basil in and giving him a home on her farm in Bamburgh, Northumberland where she has 30 hens! ( Holy cow! Basil! You've hit the jackpot! ) But Basil quickly took to a hen named Bonnet and now, lo and behold (brother and sister of Flora and Fauna) they are the proud chicken parents of two baby female chicks and one baby male chick. And for some reason, folks seem to think that because Basil was able to find an uninhibited female farm bird for fornicating that it means that he is happy now and it " proves how settled he is in his new home." It does?

How unhappy can a chicken be, really? Unless it's in the middle of having its leg gnawed off by a fox. I haven't heard of a need for any sort of Poultry Prozac or anything. And maybe it is the new digs that has Basil all happy and frolicking. I think it could be more likely that it's all of the fornicating that has Basil all happy and frolicking and continuing to fornicate. He's on a farm with thirty chicks! (And rumor has it those chicks are animals!) How bad could it be? Where do I sign up? Do I have to crow in the early morning hours? Because that really won't work for me; I'm not much of a morning person.

At this link, you can watch a 20 second video of Basil's new owner saying something which I found to be completely undecipherable due to an accented accent! I was, however, able to understand her say that Basil had been sitting on the eggs for 21 days! Wow. Now that's a henpecked husband.

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