Some days, the best you can do is a heap of clichés:
• I got nothin’.
• Do you really want to know?
• Blame Adam.
See what I mean? There are other jokes, of course, but this is a family blog.
Oh, wait. Not really. I mean, I wouldn’t preclude it outright, but neither is it difficult to imagine the complaints.
This is fun. I mean, sure, maybe Scott Kelly did give an actual thumbs-up at some point, but still.
Headlines, indeed, can be their own manner of entertainment. But even more fun than mismatches like Krill Kudryavtsev’s photo with Marcia Dunn’s headline for Associated Press is a double entendre, such as we might perceive her colleague Edith M. Lederer’s human rights report: “US envoy takes 17 UN ambassadors to play with gay characters”.
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Image note: Left ― AP headline, “NASA spaceman back from record year flight; gives thumbs up”, with photo by Krill Kudryavtsev showing American astronaut Scott Kelly showing a victory sign, 2 March 2016. Right ― AP headline: “US envoy takes 17 UN ambassadors to play with gay characters”, 2 March 2016.
Dunn, Marcia. “NASA spaceman back from record year flight; gives thumbs up”. Associated Press. 2 March 2016.
Lederer, Edith M. “US envoy takes 17 UN ambassadors to play with gay characters”. Associated Press. 2 March 2016.
In truth, I can’t believe it took me this long. You know, as if I really need an excuse for a plague song.
In April, when your barge sailed through, I fell in love with you; alas! my paramour, alack! a stranger to me ’til the test comes back. O! the microorganism! O! the microorganism! Dive in the gene pool, down you swim, down to where the light grows thin. Flail, little fishies, flail if you can, but avoid the microorganism man. O! the microorganism! O! the microorganism. Caffeine, sugar, and THC is all the doctors are gonna find in me when they do the autopsy, the microorganism won’t get me. O! the microorganism! O! the microorganism. God is good, and God is great; God’s a big invertebrate. God made the river change its route, but He won’t pull the microorganism out. O! the microorganism! O! the microorganism! The cowslips bloom, and the bluebells to; here’s advice I’ll give to you: Rattle your sword before you strike, and never kiss anyone you like. O! the microorganism! O! the microorganism!
―Boiled in Lead, “The Microorganism” (1989)
‡
And here I thought American elections were rough.
Crude.
Petty.
Damn.
On Monday, David Cameron did something very brave. The British prime minister, facing what is likely to be an extremely close race for reelection May 7, went to a voter’s garden and had a meal. Braver still, he allowed the British press to take photographs of him eating the meal.
It sounds strange, but in Britain’s election season, food-eating has become political. And it didn’t take long for Brits to notice that Cameron was eating wrong: He was using a knife and a fork to eat a hot dog.
(Taylor)
Then again, yeah, it’s kind of easy to understand. Indeed, it seems a slightly worse gaffe than the time Mitt Romney declared his love of tube steak.
Sigh. Tube steak.
A note for Mr. Cameron: Gaffes are better if done with some sort of stylish entendre. Try asking the press what it matters if you like to fork your tube steak.
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Image note: Britain’s Prime Minister David Cameron has a bite to eat with Lilli Docherty and her daughter Dakota in their garden as he meets people who have benefited from tax and pension changes that come into force Monday, near Poole, on April 6. (Kirsty Wigglesworth/AFP)
Taylor, Adam. “Britain’s prime minister ate a hot dog with a knife and fork, and it’s a problem”. The Washington Post. 7 April 2015.
Layne, Ken. “Proving He’s a True Republican, Mitt Expresses Love of ‘Tube Steaks'”. Wonkette. 4 September 2007.
Ryan, Adrian. “Free Paris, My Fanny, and a Lusty Message from the Cement Hotel!” Slog. 7 June 2007.
Seriously, how can anyone expect me to pass that moment in human history without noticing? I mean, sure, it’s there; no point in accurately claiming I didn’t put the television to CNBC in the first place―it doesn’t matter. There is a confluence of events, and for some reason the Universe sent me a treat today.
If you need this one explained, don’t worry about it; you probably wouldn’t appreciate the explanation, anyway.
But, yes, really. They went with that one.
Treasures of the marketplace.
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Image note: Detail of framegrab from CNBC, 9 February 2015.
It really is too easy to pick on Huffington Post; the most-read lists on pretty much any given news site can be depressing, amusing, harrowing, or whatever. And for that we generally can’t blame the site per se, but, rather, its readers. In HuffPo’s case, though, that glammed up sidebar is a neverending wellspring of, “Wait, what?”
To the other, we at This Is generally adore double-entendre, bad puns, and the sorts of inside jokes that make us wonder about our own psyches. Psyche. Psyches. I don’t know; depends on which one of me is in on any given day.
We also have a weakness for hilarious names, as cruel and inappropriate as that might be, but it is a burden bestowed by a grandfather who once told the story of the Rev. Perry Winkle. And real life provides so much better comic relief than Asswipe Johnson.
True, it is in that vein of juvenilia that the sidebar headline stands out so much: “These Slits Were Too High For Comfort On This Week’s Worst Dressed List”. Then again, one would hope it’s the anemic play on “slits” being “too high” that ranked the article among the most read; what a sad testament if that many people are actually out hunting for celebrity fashion gossip or the chance to revel in what may or may not be some idiotic excuse for slut-shaming.
Really, I prefer the exploitative joke of an obscure colloquialism for a vagina to the idea that people really do care that much about who someone else thinks is the worst-dressed celebrity in a given week. The fact that there is anything remotely approaching a weekly worst-dressed list is a suggestion that the species will, indeed, amuse itself to death.
This Is 