Thursday, April 29, 2010
Here's a solution to all the controversy over full-body scanners at the airports:Have a booth that you can step into that will not X-ray you, but will detonate any explosive device you may have on you.It would be a win-win for everyone, and there would be none of this crap about racial profiling and this method would eliminate a long and expensive trial. Justice would be quick and swift. Case closed!This is so simple that it's brilliant. I can see it now: you're in the airport terminal and you hear a muffled explosion. Shortly thereafter an announcement comes over the PA system,"Attention standby passengers we now have a seat available on flight number..."
ew York, NY (April 22, 2010): Archie Comics, home of the famous Riverdale High students Archie, Betty, Veronica, Reggie and Jughead, is about to welcome a new classmate this fall! On September 1st, Kevin Keller, Archie Comics' first openly gay character, will be welcomed into the town of Riverdale.
"The introduction of Kevin is just about keeping the world of Archie Comics current and inclusive. Archie's hometown of Riverdale has always been a safe world for everyone. It just makes sense to have an openly gay character in Archie comic books," stated Archie Comics Co- CEO, Jon Goldwater.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Save the Beers!
File this story under, "That Ain't Right!" Two employees of the Columbia, Missouri Solid Waste Division and beer rescuing heroes, Beer Heroes or Beeroes, if you will, have made headlines for rescuing some 50-odd cases of beer from being needlessly destroyed at the landfill, at which they work. Sadly, the headline wasn't "Beer Heroes Save The Day!" Rather, they are that these men may lose their jobs and face criminal charges. This injustice must not be allowed to stand!
Here's what happened...
Friday, April 16, 2010
A group of 45-year-old guys discusses where they should meet for dinner. Finally, they agree to meet at the Kelly's Restaurant because the waitresses have low-cut blouses and nice breasts.
10 years later, at age 55, the group agrees to meet at Kelly's because the food is good and the wine selection is excellent.
10 years later, at age 65, the group agrees to meet at Kelly's because they can eat there in peace and quiet and the restaurant is smoke free.
10 years later, at age 75, the group agrees to meet at Kelly's because the restaurant is wheel chair accessible and they have an elevator.
10 years later, at age 85, the group agrees to meet at Kelly's because they have never been there before.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Every summer for 25 years, Mark Vasu has gotten together for a weekend getaway with old friends from Duke University. The 15 men, who graduated in 1984, gather in the same cabin in Highlands, N.C.
"It's a judgment-free, action-packed, adventure-based weekend," says Mr. Vasu. "We go hiking, whitewater rafting, rock climbing, fly-fishing."
What they don't do is sit around as a group, the way women do, sharing their deepest feelings.
Male friendships like these are absolutely typical, but don't assume they're inferior to female friendships. "If we use a women's paradigm for friendship, we're making a mistake," says Geoffrey Greif, a professor at the University of Maryland's School of Social Work, who has studied how 386 men made, kept and nurtured friendships. Men might not be physically or emotionally expressive, he says, but we derive great support from our friendships.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Last summer I found myself at the legendary Burning Man festival, the eclectic arts experience extraordinaire in the heart of the Nevada desert. As I was walking around, I came across an interesting site: a large wooden sign with the word "ADVICE" blazoned across it, accompanied by two rickety, wooden chairs. The simplicity of this scene definitely captured my imagination. I decided to sit in one of the chairs and wait.
What happened next was liberating and quite unexpected. During the next hour or so, I found myself in the hot seat, as people kept stopping by to ask for advice. I made it clear I wasn’t qualified in the advice giving business; this didn’t dampen their enthusiasm. I felt privileged listening and realized that just by giving them time to air their thoughts I was being of service. It was not the advice I was imparting, but the moments of connection between two people, which inspired such a warm reaction from both parties.
When I left Burning Man I began to wonder if this desert experiment would work in the real world. How would people react if I set up my own advice booth in one of the most populous and cosmopolitan cities in America, Los Angeles? Would they be fascinated the same way I and the people who asked for my advice were at Burning Man? Or would I be the subject of scorn and derision in a city more used to the shenanigans of young Hollywood starlets? I decided to give it a go and set up shop in five diverse areas of Los Angeles: Beverly Hills, Downtown's Union Station, Hollywood Boulevard, Venice Beach, and the Miracle Mile
Read more: http://www.good.is/post/the-amazing-adventures-of-the-traveling-advice-booth/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+good%2Flbvp+%28GOOD+Main+RSS+Feed%29#ixzz0klMDqZx2
Thursday, April 08, 2010
"You Gotta Be Shittin Me?"
Well, it just so happens to have originated through the Father of Our Country, way back when George Washington was crossing the Delaware River with his troops.
There were 33 (remember this number) in Washington 's boat. It was extremely dark and storming furiously and the water was tossing them about.
Finally, Washington grabbed Corporal Peters (remember this name) and stationed him at the front of the boat with a lantern. He ordered him to keep swinging it, so they could see where they were heading.
Corporal Peters, through driving rain and cold, continued swinging the lantern back and forth, back and forth.
Then a big gust of wind and a wave hit and threw Corporal Peters and his lantern into the Delaware. Washington and his troops searched for nearly an hour trying to find Corporal Peters, but to no avail. All of them felt terrible, for the Corporal had been one of their favorites.
Sometime later, Washington and his troops landed on the other side, wet and totally exhausted. He rallied the troops and told them that they must go on.
Another hour later, one of his men said, 'General, I see lights ahead.' They trudged toward the lights and came upon a huge house.
What they didn't know was that this was a house of ill repute, hidden in the forest to serve all who came.
General Washington pounded on the door, his men crowding around him.
The door swung open, and much to his surprise stood a beautiful woman.
A huge smile came across her face, to see so many men standing there.
Washington was the first to speak, 'Madam, I am General George Washington and these are my men. We are tired, wet, exhausted, and desperately need warmth and comfort.'
Again, the Madam looked at all the men standing there, and with a broad smile on her face, said, 'Well, General, you have come to the right place. We can surely give you warmth and comfort. How many men do you have?'
Washington replied, 'Well, Madam, there are 32 of us without Peters.'
Monday, April 05, 2010
Saturday, April 03, 2010
I’m at the wheel of the diminutive 1,800-pound Smart ForTwo and I’m doing 70 on an iced gravel road 15 feet wide. It would be harrowing under the best of circumstances, but I’m coming up on an 18-wheeler carrying 20 tons of oil pipes. Snowbanks on either side of me stand 6 feet high, so there’s nowhere to go but straight ahead.
I’m about to meet the most dreaded monster on the Dempster Highway — an ice trucker hell-bent on making it to Inuvik. There’s no time for contemplation. I ease off the gas and hug the snowbank. It’s a delicate balancing act. Go too far and the the tiny Smart’s tiny wheels will bog down in the slush. It’s an adrenaline-pumping split second and then the monster barrels past me in a cloud of icy powder.
I just survived another encounter with a Dempster monster during a wild drive from Inuvik, Northewest Territories to Dawson City, Yukon.
If the idea of having a marijuana deficiency sounds laughable to you, a growing body of science points at exactly such a possibility. Scientists have known that the active psychoactive compound in marijuana is THC, which is short for tetrahydrocannabinol.
In August 1990, researchers reported in the journal Nature the discovery of receptors in the brain that specifically accommodate the cannabinoids in pot. Cannabinoids bind to particular neurological sites in the brain, as though the brain was specifically designed to utilize this plant. Did nature toss cannabinoid receptors into the brain by random chance? Are cannabinoid receptors part of an intelligent design for deriving maximum benefit from cannabis? Is cannabis a divine elixir of sacred communion for which we are ideally suited? Actually, a more sober answer seems likely. When there are receptors in the brain for a particular type of compound, that compound is made in the brain. This is true of many important agents that work to transmit brain messages of all types. So a hunt began to find such a compound.
The gray whale washed up on Dry Lagoon beach on Feb. 2 was hardly an unusual sight. But when the mammal rolled over in the surf 11 days later, the shaft of a harpoon could be seen jutting from its flesh.
Humboldt State University Marine Mammal Stranding Network members removed the harpoon, and found the tip of another harpoon embedded in the whale. They also collected additional tissue samples to turn in to the National Marine Fisheries Service for investigation, which has recently produced some results.
Commercial whaling has been outlawed by the United States since the 1970s. There is a limited harvest of bowhead whales by native Alaskans, along with a few gray whales that are allowed to be taken by American Indians in Washington. The harpoon appears to be of the type used by Alaskan and Russian natives for subsistence hunting, officials say.
”This whale had probably traveled 3,500 miles from where it was likely targeted to where it ended up,” said marine biologist Dawn Goley at Humboldt State University
In the middle of a terrifying desert north of Tibet, Chinese archaeologists have excavated an extraordinary cemetery. Its inhabitants died almost 4,000 years ago, yet their bodies have been well preserved by the dry air.
The cemetery lies in what is now China’s northwest autonomous region of Xinjiang, yet the people have European features, with brown hair and long noses. Their remains, though lying in one of the world’s largest deserts, are buried in upside-down boats. And where tombstones might stand, declaring pious hope for some god’s mercy in the afterlife, their cemetery sports instead a vigorous forest of phallic symbols, signaling an intense interest in the pleasures or utility of procreation.
A man is driving along a highway and sees a rabbit jump out across the middle of the road.
He swerves to avoid hitting it, but unfortunately the rabbit jumps right in front of the car.
The driver, a sensitive man as well as an animal lover, pulls over and gets out to see what has become of the rabbit.
Much to his dismay, the rabbit is dead.
The driver feels so awful that he begins to cry.
A beautiful blonde woman driving down the highway sees a man crying on the side of the road and pulls over..
She steps out of the car and asks the man what's wrong.
"I feel terrible,"he explains,"I accidentally hit this rabbit and killed it."
The blonde says, " Don 't worry."
She runs to her car and pulls out a spray can.
She walks over to the limp,dead rabbit,bends down,and sprays the contents onto the rabbit.
The rabbit jumps up,waves its paw at the two of them and hops off down the road.
Ten feet away the rabbit stops,turns around and waves again, he hops down the road another 10 feet,turns and waves, hops another ten feet,turns and waves, and repeats this again and again and again,until he hops out of sight.
The man is astonished.
He runs over to the woman and demands, "What is in that can? What did you spray on that rabbit?"
The woman turns the can around so that the man can read the label.
"Hair Spray -
Restores life to dead hair,
and adds permanent wave."
Clicking into an article by Aimee Mullins, a double below knee amputee, actress, track athlete, and total babe, resulted in a moment of groaning "what the hell" at my computer screen. The article -- "Is Choosing a Prosthesis so Different than Picking a Pair of Glasses?" -- spoke of how prosthetics have evolved to the point of being as specialized and aesthetically unique as eyeglasses in the last fifty years in the United States.
To illustrate her point, Mullins notes:
"...no one has yet to build a leg that does it all --- I have to change legs when I want to wear high heels; I have to change legs when I want to wear different height high heels; I have to change legs when I want to swim, take a boxing class at the gym, or sprint on the track. I have 12 pair in all (though many are housed in museums)."
While the there are indeed parallels, the article largely neglects the enormous burden of cost and limited access to this cutting-edge technology that so often gets featured in the press. Those very legs that Mullins has relegated to museums sit well out of financial reach for the majority of the disabled community.