This is the end My only friend the end… **** h/t Link Mecca

[2/10 update:  I answer The Editors in an update here] From Islam Online: Danish Muslim leaders warned on Saturday, February 4, of grave consequences if copies of the Noble Quran were burnt in a rally planned by Danish extremists to protest Muslim anger over cartoons mocking Prophet Muhammad (PBUH). “All hell will break loose, if those extremists burn the Quran,” Raed Halil, the head of the European Committee for Defending

1994.  Had a scrape with an overconfident colony of imperialist fire ants, whose swarming army of segmented maneaters—abdominal sacs flush with alkaloid venom—I managed to thwart with a can of non-stick cooking spray and the brass Zippo my buddy Dave gave me as a going away present in advance of my moving out west.  Ordinarily, of course, I would have dusted my arms and calves with crumbled kieselgur and confronted

—Oh, he danced, alright.  Believe me.  Only today it was a private showing. And be honest:  how many of you would actually dig seeing a nipple-pierced armadillo in a leather thong and matching wrist gauntlets nose his way out of a homemade tiramisu pie, shake the mascarpone cheese off his tail scales, and then—after a series of poorly executed Fred Berry-esque drop splits—lie down on a dessert plate, panting and

Because I have to run out and get some things for the wife’s birthday while she’s out treating herself to one of them expensive haircuts broads are always justifying (“But look at the fine detail along the feathered edge, here, where she’s tapered it.  I mean, she used a straight razor there, for Chrissakes!”), I am just going to point you to this piece by the National Review’s John Miller,

The

Just leave those dirty dishes, honey.  Today, Jeff cleans and dries and stacks them in the      cupboard.

Chianti: “And another thing:  your 70s cinema is totally derivative of the French New Wave –”* me: “– Enough!  Man, you had best be mobbed up, is all I have to say—because otherwise, you’re about to be poured over ice into a highball glass, stuffed with cherries and orange slices, and turned into some poncy Sangria, then locked into a refrigerator with a bunch of rowdy Guinness draughts.  Which, if

Sean M’s always interesting Brea Canyon takes on the draconian

Larry Elder offers up “The (blue) State of the Union address.” A taste: My fellow Americans, I am evil. I only care about rich people, and rich people only care about other rich people—unless, of course, your name is Kennedy. In fact, it is misleading to say that I only care about the rich. I truly only care about Republican, white, Christian males who are rich. I would say that