“BOSTON — Police rescued a Boston woman from the jaws of her 7-foot Burmese python after the snake clamped onto her arm and started squeezing. Wanda Nunes, 43, told the Boston Herald that her python Moma went for her arm shortly before she planned to feed the snake two rats Saturday morning. “She must have smelled the rats because she reached back and lunged for my arm,” Nunes said. “Before

“Fuck. I don’t remember Allah saying anything about M1A1 Abrams tanks, Saed, do you…?” [via Cold Fury, whose nice new digs have me itching to do something drastic ’round here].

Yes, but the health care is free. So, y’know… What?

Back in ’94, during the heady days of the first Clinton administration, I was bartending at a Ruby Tuesday’s in Towson, Maryland — an okay gig if you didn’t mind wearing black polyester pants (which I did), or making specialty drinks like “The Rubalicious Mudslider!” named by drug-addled corporate marketers soon to find positions in IT. Fact: when an alcoholic beverage recipe calls for a fistful of malt balls and

Hey! Looks like anti-war demagogue and “progressive” economist Max Sawicky has decided to liven up his dreary digs with my charming mug! What can I say? Leave it to an economist to know money when he sees it. Still, a word of caution, Max: I’m straight, and I’m very happily married. And I’d never ever wear leather pants. Ever. Adjust your masturbation fantasies accordingly. [update: looks like Max pulled my

Here: replace “smokers” with “AIDS patients.” Break out the red ribbons.

Q: What do you get when you cross Jim Bunning and a giant squid? A: A lying, unfunny, politically retarded giant squid who may or may not be racist. Or Corrine Brown without a fastball.

So, Garofalo’s new web mascot decided he’d better comment on the whole Kos dustup after all — not directly, mind you (there’s advertising revenue to consider here), but rather in that glancing, elliptical way favored by smug wannabe-hipsters drunk on their own preening irony. Unfortunately for Atrios, the dainty slap he takes barely leaves a mark — and even his most rabid readers practically ignored it, skipping past in a

Ahem — “You put the boom boom into my heart.” That’s it. G’night, Madrid! Thank you!

More “contrition” from the Prince of Pud: So I said something pretty stupid last week. I served up the wingnuts a big, juicy softball. They went into a tizzy, led by Instapundit. And for a while, I was actually pretty worried. But the final tally was — about 30 hate-filled emails, about 15,000 hate-filled visitors, and the pulling of three advertising spots that are going to be replaced in less