The famed cyclist’s biopsy records, just released, reveal that his tumors were benign, In fact, they were not even tumors but brass enlargement implants. “He’s got brass balls,” Dr. Armand Hammer told us. “He was already a freak of nature, with abnormally large lungs and heart. We kept quiet about all this because winning is more important than the truth. What’s the truth? That we need to believe that if the average guy works hard he can do anything. Like maybe win six Tours in a row. Lance looks like an average guy, and so you think wow, maybe I got a shot too, if only I get up off this couch. Only looks are deceiving. You need a heart that pumps more blood than normal, like a big efficient engine that only one in a million get born with. Then you need some drugs to boost your muscular potential. Finally, you need brass balls to claim that you’re no different than the average Joe, only God gave you these super powers, see, and the ability to defeat even cancer by force of will…and so you deserve to be worshiped as well. Kinda like Kim Kardashian for being born with good bone structure and access to makeup.”
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Having escaped prison by the skin of his (censored), John Edwards now has a plan to reform and pay for America’s prisons. The plan will involve allowing tourists to visit Federal prisons for an entrance fee of $10. Supermax fee $20. Madoff prison resort $40. Gitmo $500 plus airfare and hotel. “Eventually,” explained Festus Periwinkle, undersecretary of state penitentiaries, “we’ll bring whole classrooms of students who now only go to the zoo. But we also need to raise enough money to build several dozen new high tech prisons with the required 3D HDTVs and bowling alleys. Hell, there’s about a two hundred thousand bed shortage just to house drug dealers and those guys who get profiled on American Greed…plus the occasional bowl game streaker. So we need John and Jane Doe to bring their kids and make a picnic of it. Way it’ll work is, as they go down the cell block they’ll be told of the inmates crimes, and be able to ask questions, offer advice, or just laugh! Edwards also wants shows like Fear Factor, Survivor and The Bachelorette to be staged in the big house. It’s a win-win for everyone, with inmates earning early out if they cooperate and don’t harass anyone! Hey, it’s better than the other plan we were about to implement…Adopt a Senator…kinda like Adopt a Highway. That idea was just too full of holes. Or potholes.”
He doesn’t watch movies, and, in fact, the last movie he did see was The Wizard of Oz. But Kim Jong Un prefers Rocky Road over Yellow Brick Road, nonetheless, and the only yellow bricks he wants are radioactive. “Blocks of plutonium would be nice,” he tells his starving people, who must smile or be thrown under a bus. “I will trade with bricks of cocaine, America!” Other birthday presents he’d like are some of those F22 Raptors the U.S. is making (but doesn’t need.) “They come in handy for drop payloads on Seoul,” he explains. In the meantime he just wants more ice cream. “I love nice creamy texture with nutty crunch,” he tells the Food Network. “You people lots of nuts, can you supply, Jerry?” The plan is to trade rice to Uncle Ben for it. When asked if he’d like a heart transplant, Un wanted none. (Alas, so far a brain transplant is not possible for anyone, politicians included.)
The following are Cliff’s Cliff’s notes on a book you may not have time to read. Cliff Jr. is Cliff’s Sr.’s son, a young punk who told his father to summarize his notebooks so he can get back to trolling friends on Facebook. Today’s edition is THE REPUBLICAN BRAIN by Chris Mooney. Conclusions drawn from the book:
1) Less than 6% of scientists identify themselves as Republicans. Conservatives have a much stronger tendency to deny widely accepted scientific facts and theories. They are less likely to change their opinions when new evidence is shown, and instead attempt to explain things away using methods that violate the laws of logic and reason (superstition, irrelevant exceptions, name-calling: “You $%&ing Pinko Demon Seed!”)
2) Conservative Republicans claim the word “theory” is a nebulous smokescreen used by scientists who haven’t a clue what they’re talking about, (implying that, therefore, all theories are in an equal camp, equivalent with saying the moon is made of green cheese.) To them a “theory” is an “hypothesis” or a fanciful and ridiculous work of the imagination, and not a “rigorously determined analysis of empirical data and observation, which has not been refuted” as scientists define the word. FootinmouthNote: A scientific theory to real scientists is closer to a law than to a hypothesis. (ie. quantum theory, atomic theory, cell theory, heliocentric theory: the theory that the Earth orbits the sun.) Proving that evolution is incorrect or that the Earth is 6000 years old or that the Big Bang never happened or that global warming is a myth or that the moon is made of green cheese would therefore win you a NOBEL PRIZE. Please do it, if possible! Scientists would certainly like to, as they love money and fame too. (Alas, their fellows also have microscopes and telescopes, while they have to utilize the scientific method and not the entrails of birds.)
3) Both Republicans and Democrats are biased, but in different ways (it’s a left brain/right brain thing) depending on which programs benefit them the most (it’s all about bringing home the bacon…or the tofu.) For a list of liberal biases (plus conservative ones) you’ll have to read the book.
Conclusion: the general public (ie. TV addicts) believe what they want to believe. Scientists, however, are forced to conform to observable and testable facts, or be dismissed/ridiculed by their colleagues: “What are you, a Benny Hinn usher?” For radical Islamic factions, there is the belief in a paradise of virgins awaiting you if you kill Americans (regardless of party affiliation.) For Scientologists the belief involves reincarnation, ancient alien thetans, giant space arks, and auditing sessions wherein your brain is “cleared” of the scientific method. In Benny HInn’s company, it’s more about signing a release form, pretending to be healed of blindness, and working your way up the ladder from moped to Mercedes by washing and servicing his jet. For most everyone else, there’s UFOs, Big Foot, ghosts, Nessie, and the belief in a free lunch.
Can you guess what it is? The phrase that is heard more frequently than any other? Flip though a hundred channels, and you’re likely to hear this phrase on at least a dozen channels within ten seconds of arriving at any new channel. Here’s a hint: it is heard ad nauseum. Still haven’t guessed it? Stop reading this blog right now, and go turn on the television. Within ten seconds (or possibly thirty, but not much more) I swear you will hear the phrase. You will. Then when you come back, you’ll know the answer. Did you do it? No, I’ll wait. Go ahead. (Insert fart joke.) Okay. You’re back? Great. Feeling good? Probably not, I’m guessing. But at least you understand, now, why television is so frustrating. So life-suckingly sad. So gut-punchingly pathetic. It’s also why you have practically no attention span anymore, and why I’m write-speaking this way. Sure, you can skip to the end of this post and discover the answer. You know how TV shows build up your expectations only to cut to a commercial? Or how when talent shows are just about to announce which pathetic loser is going home, suddenly—and totally without warning—you’re watching a singing pig on a ski lift? Gees. How annoying is that? You can’t even watch the evening news for five minutes without hearing this hellish phrase. It’s like a demonic carrot, dangled in front of you out of fear your nearly non-existent attention span will carry you over to their competitors, where you’ll get to hear them use the Satanic phrase. Oh God. Imagine that! Because, I mean, where is there a life anymore, free of nasal decongestants and prescription pain relievers and Prozac and LSD (all needed to combat TV addiction?) Is there ever to be an escape from this dungeon full of zombies and vampires and lycans and undead and walking dead and crawling dead and screaming victims? Will we ever find that peaceful beach with the Corona and the girl and the sunset without having to listen to a dozen Travelnotcity ads featuring Alec Baldwin or Captain Kirk riding a singing pig which is annoyingly eating the eyeballs of a gutted zombie in slow motion as a lycan battles a vampire in a high tech background where a Cupcake Wars reject bids adieu to Kitchen Stadium with a scowl partly hurtled in the direction of Chef Ramsay, who’s only there to pick up a paycheck he doesn’t need for work he shouldn’t do from people he pretends to know with time he doesn’t have? When we come back, we’ll show you just exactly why you’ll be thrilled to have waded through all our ads for cars and insurance and fat burgers and soda and drugs and trucks and previews and not the shitty ads of our competitors, which are exactly the same ads at the same time with the same intensity and the same inevitability and grinding exasperation and dopey incredulity. Kim Kardashian for mayor? Hell, let’s vote Kim President and let her deal with the Zombie Apocalypse when the Ancient Aliens join forces with Bigfoot in Area 51 even as Yellowstone blows and Jersey Shore flows and Khloe crows and Nostradumbass knows and and and, well, you get the drill. Now, when we come back…