Headlines

These have been making the rounds on the Net (some of them are old), but they're funny enough that I thought I'd post for those who haven't seen them. I took out a couple. Even some of the ones I left in are a bit crass... but then, they're funny too!

For the record, if police are arresting folks with crack between their buttocks, I had to shower at the gym after playing basketball yesterday, and I'm here to tell you: there are A LOT of criminals down there! Hope you enjoyed these! If there are any "Headlines" you think are funny and are willing to share, post them in the comments. Please and thanks!

How Do the Presents Get There?

You're all probably well aware of the physics to debunk Santa Claus. If not, here's one of many links to what was originally a cynic's argument to do just that, with quite a few rebuttals from physicists, engineers, mathematicians, and other folks that likely did not want the lump o' coal in their stocking. I'm not going to print all the rebuttals (although a couple of them warrant perusement), but I will print the original assertions below.

1) No known species of reindeer can fly. BUT there are 300,000 species of living organisms yet to be classified, and while most of these are insects and germs, this does not COMPLETELY rule out flying reindeer which only Santa has ever seen.

2) There are 2 billion children (persons under 18) in the world. BUT since Santa doesn't (appear) to handle the Muslim, Hindu, Jewish and Buddhist children, that reduces the workload to 15% of the total - 378 million according to Population Reference Bureau. At an average (census) rate of 3.5 children per household, that's 91.8 million homes. One presumes there's at least one good child in each.

3) Santa has 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to the different time zones and the rotation of the earth, assuming he travels east to west(which seems logical). This works out to 822.6 visits per second. This is to say that for each Christian household with good children, Santa has 1/1000th of a second to park, hop out of the sleigh, jump down the chimney, fill the stockings, distribute the remaining presents under the tree, eat whatever snacks have been left, get back up the chimney, get back into the sleigh and move on to the next house. Assuming that each of these 91.8 million stops are evenly distributed around the earth (which, of course, we know to be false but for the purposes of our calculations we will accept), we are now talking about .78 miles per household, a total trip of 75-1/2 million miles, not counting stops to do what most of us must do at least once every 31 hours, plus feeding and etc. This means that Santa's sleigh is moving at 650 miles per second, 3,000 times the speed of sound. For purposes of comparison, the fastest man-made vehicle on earth, the Ulysses space probe, moves at a poky 27.4 miles per second - a conventional reindeer can run, tops, 15 miles per hour.

4) The payload on the sleigh adds another interesting element. Assuming that each child gets nothing more than a medium-sized lego set (2 pounds), the sleigh is carrying 321,300 tons, not counting Santa, who is invariably described as overweight. On land, conventional reindeer can pull no more than 300 pounds. Even granting that "flying reindeer" (see point #1) could pull TEN TIMES the normal amount, we cannot do the job with eight, or even nine. We need 214,200 reindeer. This increases the payload - not even counting the weight of the sleigh - to 353,430 tons. Again, for comparison- this is four times the weight of the Queen Elizabeth.

5) 353,000 tons traveling at 650 miles per second creates enormous air resistance - this will heat the reindeer up in the same fashion as space crafts re-entering the earth's atmosphere. The lead pair of reindeer will absorb 14.3 QUINTILLION joules of energy. Per second. Each. In short, they will burst into flame almost instantaneously, exposing the reindeer behind them, and create deafening sonic booms in their wake. The entire reindeer team will be vaporized within 4.26 thousandths of a second. Santa, meanwhile, will be subjected to centrifugal forces 17,500.06 times greaterthan gravity. A 250-pound Santa (which seems ludicrously slim)would be pinned to the back of his sleigh by 4,315,015 pounds of force.

In conclusion - If Santa ever DID deliver presents on Christmas Eve, he's dead now.

Now, not sludging into much of the fallacious reasoning asserted in this argument (i.e. flying reindeer only being credited with pulling 10 times the amount of non-talking, non-flying reindeer [HUH???], the incredibly high [these days] amount of children on the "naughty list", omitting elvin assistance [and all that implies], etc.), any essay containing both the words "Santa" and "joules" -- although "Santa" and "payload" deserves it's due credit -- within should be summarily dismissed. Has no one learned the folly of the Burgermeister Meisterburger and the distribution of Christmas toys?

Flying reindeer, dragging what must be an incredibly gargantuan sleigh, that somehow avoid all the anti-aircraft, fighter jets, ground-to-air missles that have to come along with the job in this Call of Duty Modern Warfare Age; magical, toy-making elves (and "toy-making" is a loose term that denotes all the modern techno gadgetry in which these sprites have quite possibly led the Technological Age) that abide in a sub-zero degree climate and darkness most of the year; a crystal ball that illuminates the activities of roughly 2.9 billion children twenty-four hours a day, seven-days a week, 364 days a year not including Christmas - and 365 on Leap Years; ten zillion presents a year both packed and taken out in a logical child-by-child order starting at the first house in Japan (according to the NORAD tracker) to the last house in Hawaii, including automobiles for sixteen year olds, weights and benches for athletes, pre-assembled drum sets, bikes, toy trains, etc., that are somehow encased (and rarely broken) in an unbreakable burlap sack that miraculously stays in an uncovered sleigh going near or at the speed of light; a five hundred lb., one-thousand year old Kringle that spryly slides down and nimbly clambers back up chimneys with the greatest of speed, agility, and ease (or slips in windows when chimneys are not of avail) all while lugging a bag many times the size of himself, not to mention the fact that he's been a pipe smoker for all these years without a hint of lung problems; treating peoples to aforementioned presents on six continents not including islands nor scientists holed up in Antartica...

...I mean, what's not to believe here? I believe.

So to all you cynics, skeptics, and pseudo-scientists that try to debunk what happens every December 24th like clockwork, I pose the question used in the title of this post. If my mom and dad don't put them there -- and they don't -- and I don't put them there, then how...?

Yo Quiero Taco Bell - Folk Style

Got an e-mail from Doug with this link. Thought I'd share the humor:



Muchas gracias, DugALug!

Positive Trends!

Hey! Looking at our blog post-per-month trend pattern, since we've been back in the cyber-air, it appears that we've had some positive and negatives in our content output. As far as general posts, here's the data:



June -- 7 (better than none)
July -- 38 (big upspike)
August -- 35 (minor downturn)
September -- 31 (trending down, but still over a post a day)
October -- 12 (red flag)
November -- 7 (an appauling low)
December -- 12 (uptick at 13, with this post, and counting)

Our all-time record for a month is the very first month, January 2006, after we started this blog. The number of posts we had that month was 86. Wow. Ken must have had a lot to say. Not sure if that record will ever get broken, but maybe we oughta just take a month and try (that would take some major league begging from you, our three commenters, if we were going to try that). We trended down every month except March/April, 42 then 43 respectively, until we took our hiatus in September. At that time, there was much rejoicing. We've quelled that rejoicing quite well, though, in our major league comeback (very few sentences have two words starting with "Q" in them, but this last sentence I wrote managed that feat QUITE effortlessly - get ready for another upcoming "q-word" in the next sentence).

Now, as far as sheer quality posts, well, we're still looking for our first one of those. Please do us the favor of telling us if you read one.

What does all this meaningless drivel mean? Well, one, it scores another post for us so in a year when we chart stats again, it'll look like we were really writing it up last December!

More critically, though, it means Ken needs to post a lot more.

Randy Moss Quit on My Fantasy Football Team

My Fantasy Football team finished second in the league, made the playoffs, and was favored to beat the seventh-seeded team...

...and then Randy Moss quit on me.

I'm gone! Out! Done! Finished!

A FF coach can draft and make moves taking risks on players that get injured historically, play up and down, or are young possible sleepers and possibly not. But does a coach ever factor in a player quitting on him? That's what I get trusting a Patriot.

I WANT MY $15 BACK!!!

I'm Small - I Admit It

That said, I hereby submit my official response to Ken's post that is so magnificent in its utter awfulness. Here are my choices for the picture I want next to my name:>

First, I'd like to try Evil Ken.











Of course, I'm not evil like that, so maybe something heroic would work better. What about Ken the Eagle?













Really, though, neither villian nor hero fit my personna. I think this one does a better job of capturing me:













Naaaaaah. In the end, cartoons really don't work. What about the real deal? I mean, who am I really? Isn't this really my Maslowian actualized real self?












Nope. None of those. I've got to be me. This is the one:


















THIS HAS GOT TO BE BY MY NAME!!!
Put it there pretty please!

Lights Out

A moment of silence in The Realm. After 72 years, Guiding Light has called it quits. What started as a 15-minute serial radio show that expanded to 30, and took its soapy camp to TV in 1952, and finally over time went to an hour... well, it's done.

Maybe someone would like to say a few words? If I actually ever watched it, perhaps I could eulogize it better. I didn't, though.

As far as you know.

Today Is the Greatest...

...Day I've Ever Known.

Because today, I'm not going to have a single thought. Last night, after analyzing all the hows and whys and whichevers of what makes a good blog post, I've decided that today I'm not going to think at all... instead, I'm going to write to the lowest common denominator. I'm writing a post about Dancing With the Network Stars.

(KNOCK. KNOCK.)

("what's that Mom?" "just Dancing with the Stars?" "no, I'm sure I have it right." "mom, please, can I have some peace here in your basement?")

Sorry, er, that was the plumb... er, repair man. Leaky drain pipe. Now, what was I saying. Oh, yeah, the Dancing Stars.

The show that forced my Miami Dolphins to trade Jason Taylor (pictured above to the right), a certain Dolphin Ring-of-Famer and borderline guy for the NFL Hall of Fame. Jason Taylor came in second, or so I hear, on the show, which, as is well-chronicled here in The Realm, is the first place loser! Notwithstanding the 1-15 season we endured two years ago, we Miami Dolphin fans don't accept losing. So, yes, we shipped him off to the Washington Redskins. At least we received a pair of draft choices for him from the 'Skins. And with those draft choices, I think we got Tom Delay and a bag of nickels. I don't have high hopes for DeLay, here. But if he doesn't pull out a first, we'll be trading him this year... probably for a couple of old-time James Bonds if we can manage, Roger Moore or Tim Dalton. If we can't get that, maybe an old Jacques Cousteau? Peter Sellers or David Niven...

(KNOCK. KNOCK.)

("what's is it now, Mother?" "what? Niven and Sellers passed away some time ago?" "no, I'm sure that's not right." "seriously, Mom, I'm in the middle of something crucial here, and plus, I don't want people knowing that I'm, you know, here... thank you")

Okay, maybe we'll just get some actor who played in the movie, Murder by Death.

Anyway, getting back on track, Dances with Stars -- let's take a look at the players, dancers, I mean, and I think it's pretty evident that we can go ahead and say who's going to win the whole kit-and-kaboodle, shindiggin' jamboree.

Let's start with the aforementioned Tom DeLay. I think we all know by now that Democrats are just cooler than Republicans. The secret is, for the men, they wear boxers, not briefs. Far more comfortable for dancing. Not that I know, but I just think it's self-evident. As for the Republicans, who is the last Republican that could dance? Orrin Hatch? I don't think so. DeLay is out.

Kelly Osbourne. I just don't see it in the cards. It's genetics. Now, if we were having a Bite the Head Off a Bat with the Stars, I'm thinking she'd have a leg up. Dancing? Not so much.

Who in the name of all that is Hollywood is Mark Dacascos? Can the network afford for the Chairman of the Iron Chef to win? In other words, are you watching the show all the way through if Mark Dacascos is the favorite?

(KNOCK. KNOCK.)

("Mom, please." "Mark Dacascos is a good-looking hunk? does anyone in the 21st century use the word hunk, ma?" "no, I'm sure they don't" "okay, okay, I'll say it if you leave me alone.")

Um, this guy Dacascos, I think he's got a shot.

I saw Macy Gray dance when she was singing in Spider-Man, right before the Green Goblin flew in stealing her limelight. The look she had on her face at that point tells me all I need to know. She'll be okay, but she certainly won't have enough.

Chuck Liddell. Wimp.

Isn't Melissa Joan Hart the chick that does the interviews with Joan Rivers on the red carpet? I might have that mixed up. However, if those two are friends, I'm thinking a lot of plastic surgery. And I just can't help but think that doesn't translate into good dancing. Think about Stiffler's mother in The Cinderella Story movie, where she was always getting botox. You think she could dance? Well, then, how could Melissa Joan?

And then there's Louie Vito, the snowboarder. You know what? I think he can probably dance. But the guy's 5'5" - at least I saw that somewhere, probably wikipedia, so I've got it backed up. Is America, a land rife with heightism, ready for a guy that short to win it's premiere dancing competition? Would Herve Villech... um, Tattoo from Fantasy Island have won a subjective dancing contest? Methinks not.

How about Natalie Coughlin? She's cute, a swimmer, so you know she's down for the training involved for all the dance routines. She reminds me of Kathy Ireland, who would certainly be someone people would want to see in a contest like this.

(KNOCK. KNOCK.)
("sigh. Mom, what?" "Kathy Ireland's in Dancing with Stars this year?" "no, they wouldn't. are you sure?" "thanks for letting me know, mommie")

Natalie's out.

Back in the '70s, when the Jackson 5 and The Osmonds were competing like they were on a dance contest show, Donnie Osmond could dance. Let's face it, he's a little bit rock 'n roll. Sitting around the $25,000 Pyramid, however, is no way to keep in dance shape. Twenty years later, could he possibly be better? No.

Speaking of let's face it. Joanna Kruppa is in the final three right now. For any guy that's watching the show -- I hate to say we're that shallow, but, and I can't emphasize this enough, we are -- she's a draw. Like they say in the NCAAs, the real BIG DANCE, she'll be a tough out.

On one of my birthdays years ago at my office, all the girls at work put up pictures of all the NSYNC, Brittany Spears, Backstreet Boys, 99 Degrees, all those acts all around my office with a boom box pounding out some manufactured manure from one of those acts, because they knew how much I hated them. I remember there was a picture of Aaron Carter. He must have been in the embryonic stage then. But there he was on my wall. On general principle, he's a goner.

Entourage is all the rage. And I've never seen a show. I really wouldn't know Debi Mazar from Little Debbie. And I'm sure I like Little Debbie's food better. While I shouldn't count out a person just because I don't know who they are, in this case, I don't know what else to do. Sorry, Debi. Good luck with Entourage.

(KNOCK. KNOCK.)
("I'm almost out, Mom, can it wait?" "no, Mom, Entourage is not one of those filthy shows on Cinemax. It's on HBO." "no, I'm sure it's fine for kids. Kevin Dillon is in it. Remember him from that movie Heaven Help Us. He was hilarious as Rooney. Yeah, Andrew McCarthy was in it, too. That was a great movie for kids, right?" "ouch! ouch! Mom get outta here.")

The token NFL castoff for the show this year is Michael Irvin. Haven't we been here before with Emmitt Smith? Now, I'm not saying Michael can't dance. He was in South Florida, for crying out loud, and they dance there in Coconut Grove and South Beach. And I'm sure in some of the Dallas clubs, Michael was shakin' it. But I can't get past this one thing. Unless Michael Irvin shaves off that cheesy mustache, he has no hope. Image is everything in this one. Michael is a no-go.

Ashley Hamilton is the son George Hamilton, who as we know was Zorro the Gay Blade as well as Count Vladimir Dracula in Love at First Bite, where, he liked the night life, he liked to boogie, on the disco heiiiii-iiiiiiiights, oh yeah. Also, he was Evel Knievel in Evel Knievel back in '71. Using the same logic as we did with Kelly Osbourne, Ashley's got a chance.

Also with a good chance is Mya, since Mya is a dancer and R&B Singer. If life were fair, she should and would win. Life's not fair. She won't. It'll be an upset, but she won't.

Kathy Ireland. Supermodel. Supermother. Model-turned-mogul: furniture queen and clothing empress. Superactre... uh, just actress. Author. And World Champion of Battle of the Network Stars. I mean, Dancing with the Stars. She's your winner. Write it down.

(KNOCK. KNOCK.)

("Mom, I've told you for the last time?" "what? no, I don't know any Chuck Lidde... Chuck! oh hey, Chuck! love your work..." "no, no way. I would never. Never call you a wimp. Ever." "no! Mom! I didn't say that." "no, Chuck, I'm begging. Please! Ooowwww! Aiiieeee! Arrrrrrrgggggggh!" CRAAAAASSSSH!!!)

[Service announcement from blogger: We apologize for technical difficulties here at this blog site, but The Realm of Possibility has been closed until further notice until Rich comes out of his coma.]

Let's Play: Caption This!

From our sidebar link at Ripley's Believe It or Not!, I give you these two pictures for which to write a caption.

For some reason, the title of that 1996 OMC song keeps coming into my head.

In other news, I thought this picture and caption from Dave Barry's blog, comments included, was hilarious. Apparently, Dave's up in Idaho trying to finish a book. This comment was great:

Maybe Dave is summoning his muse.

Out there, it might be his moose.

More Birthday Fun at L-Squared's Work

Over at Laura Leigh's blog, she had this post of what two of her co-workers did for a another guy at her work's 30th birthday. How supercool is this (see picture on right and/or go to link)?

Those white Styrofoam cups were filled with water, and that guy had to dump out so many of them just to get to his chair in the office. This had to take some hours of work to create, and a lot of time to take down as well.

LL's Useless Info Tuesdays filled with fun trivia are always great, too. Here and here are examples. Buuuuuuuut with the goods, there's always the bads. And these are just plain evil. Mayonaisse 1 and Mayonnaisse 2. How the most abominable substance in this and the forty-seven closest galaxies in the universe of which we're aware, designed to weed out, addict, and ultimately annihilate the majority of humanity and any other unsuspecting lifeforms that are seduced by the noxious atrocity, make it onto a nice blog like Laura Leigh's, I'll never know. As Popeye the Sailor Man puts it so perfectly, "Disgustipating!" I'd much have tasted the fig newtons she wrote about here even if they were dated 24 Nov 1888. Nonetheless, check out her blog. Just run from the mayo parts.

Also, as long as we're jonesing for more birthday festivities (because Brett turned 40!!!), what are some of the biggest and best birthday pranks you've ever seen or of which you've been a part?

Happy 40th Birthday Brett!!!

Wanted to wish my brother and semi-regular commenter, under Codename: Anonymous but actual name, Brett, an extraordinary and very Happy 40th Birthday this July 27!!! This is a day early, but it's the weekend, and I may not have a chance to get a brotherly loving, heart-touching post out tomorrow, so I wanted to say Happy Birthday today. The Big 4-0!!! How does it feel man?

For your viewing pleasure, I've linked a list of other folks who share July 27th as their birthdays right here. Some of these people are famous and then, to be truthful, some not-so-famous. Ahem, anyway, I see that you share this special day with other notables such as... whoa! Here's a big one:

Alex Rodriguez - almost certainly a HOF MLB shortstop, except there's that one little... errrr, ummm, didn't he date Madonna?

Hey! Here's another:

Gary Gygax!!! Co-creator of the famous Dungeons and Dragons game!

Bobbie Gentry, Irv Cross, Peggy Fleming... it's a virtual who's who of the celebrity A-list. Except, who's Jason Buck, the defensive end for the World League of American Football Scottish Claymores? How does one such as he make such a high-brow list? Go figure.

Would it make you feel better to know that Juliana Hatfield, Pete Yorn, Bill Engvall, Norman Lear, and Shea Hillenbrand also share your birthday. And famous wrestler Triple H not only shares your birthday, but he also shares your July 27, 1969 birthdate! Wow! I know you're proud about that!

And there's no reason to feel old, of course, because 40's the new 13. Check this out!

Within a couple of years, Jennifer Garner will be making a sequel called 13 Going on 40! You know it's on the come.

And, then, as I know you're very well aware, it's never reeeeeeally a happy 40th birthday without some eerie and profoundly disturbing picture of a malevolent and maniacal clown with a meat cleaver buried in a birthday cake. Those kind of pictures just make the day what it is. And that is, very special.

A VERY, VERY HAPPY 40th BIRTHDAY, BRETT, with all well wishes and hopes for a solid 40 more from The Realm of Possibility!

Good, Bad, and Ugly from Minnesota

The Good:

Not only does the land of 10,000 lakes claim famous musician Bob Dylan, but it's also home to one of the great alternative country acts to ever grace the stage, that being The Jayhawks. Tomorrow the Green Grass (among many other fine efforts) was simply superb, as is the sunset on one of the 10,000.

The Bad:


Kid Cann, notorious Prohibition Era gangster, and his evil twin, the Minnesota Viking... hard for Minnesotans to brag about these two goodfellas.




And the Ugly:


First, there was Governor This, and now there's Senator That.

And because I'm sounding small, I'll spare the Stuart Smalley jokes and any critique on his fine literary efforts like these and this one (oh, and if you go to Amazon.com, be sure to look up the juvenile novel masterpiece Dorkman while you're there - which probably reads just as good or better in Minnesota as in any other state).

Congratulations, Al... and Minnesota... and America.We get what we pay for.Did I pay for this?