According to the rumor I just started, the Miami Heat have acquired the most amazing free agent in the history of professional sports.

[click to enlarge : now there’s a pun]

Dildos are awesome. That’s a universal fact. You disagree? Well, fuck you! I have thousands upon thousands of years of humans who think dildos are the Bee’s Knees, the Cat’s Pajamas, and other cool stuff.

Boom:

via livescience:

The carved bone was unearthed at a Mesolithic site in Motala, Sweden, that is rich with ancient artifacts from between 4,000 to 6,000 B.C. The area’s unique features may have allowed bone artifacts, which usually get destroyed over the millennia, to survive.

“It’s an organic object, that’s why it’s special,” Gruber told LiveScience. “Normally when we excavate early Mesolithic sites we never get the organic material. But this site where we’re excavating now is along the shoreline. The preservation is very good here — it’s been lying in the bottom sediments and clay layers of the river, and it’s been well preserved there.”

The dildo-like object is about 4 inches (10.5 cm) long and 0.8 inches (2 cm) in diameter.

It’s not the first time that such a phallic object has been found from the ancient world. Another item strongly resembling a penis was unearthed in Germany in 2005. That one is even older — dating from 28,000 years ago — and made of stone.

As I tumble towards the certainty that I am going to amount to nothing, I’ve come to a new conclusion. I’m going to begin crafting dildos out of melted down Nintendo Entertainment System cartridges, and hiding them. So, god willing, in four to five-thousand years, someone can dig up my dildo. This is my new (hopefully) attainable goal.

[legend has it that Ernest Hemingway wrote a six-word story to win a bar bet — For sale: baby shoes, never worn. leading to the author’s birthday, I’m going to offer a daily post of my own six-word story. readers are encouraged to respond with their own]

Birthday wishes for the dead hero.

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Banksy rocked out in Detroit recently. Apparently he hit up the abandoned Packard auto plant, and in a great twist of irony, the work was dug up and brought to a local gallery. Aversion to subversion! To something.

[legend has it that Ernest Hemingway wrote a six-word story to win a bar bet — For sale: baby shoes, never worn. leading to the author’s birthday, I’m going to offer a daily post of my own six-word story. readers are encouraged to respond with their own]

The health inspector only smoked Newports.

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Zap! And Laser Hands Sookie returned this week to smite all sorts of dumb ass werewolves and mynads and other people who be acting the fool! The mystery surrounding Sookie continues to grow, and I’m wondering just what the hell is up with Ms. Stackhouse. They’ve been hinting at her being special for a while now, and with the implication that Billy No Pulse was hunting her down far before he fell in love with her continuing to come to light, I’m intrigued.

Are you ready for the forthcoming bullshit that will spill from Bill’s lips, something like “Sookie, I was sent to procure you, but then however, you procured my heart!” Barf. Watch for it.

Meanwhile, Franklin is the best dude on the show. Being insane is awesome. Being an insane vampire is even better. How do I know he’s insane? He’s fallen in love with the most loathsome character on the entire show. Fuck Tara. God, what a waste of time she is on the screen. All she does is make that same stupid concerned face over and over again, which amounts to her pinching her mouth and vibrating as she gets teary-eyed. Yawn, yo! Yawn.

Tara’s like a bunch of other characters on the show: getting too much fucking screen time. There’s no center to the show this season. I mean, there’s a theoretical center which is Sookie, looking for Bill, but she’s not always on the screen, and when she is, she’s with Alcide, who is hunting that King Guy, who is with Bill, who is being chased by Eric who is…who is…Do you see my point?

Fug.

Jason Stackhouse, shirtless, in aviator sunglasses. Bullseye. I wish I could just watch Jason Stackhouse hang out all day with Andy. Jason Stackhouse, blathering bullshit near a pond in the middle of some awkwardly shot scene? What’s the opposite of bullseye?I know this show is just Hot Dudes and Chicks Punching and Fucking Supernatural Entities, but I mean, c’mon. Keep Jason as the comedic relief, or at least keep him away from romantic interludes in the middle of an episode.

Please?

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[legend has it that Ernest Hemingway wrote a six-word story to win a bar bet — For sale: baby shoes, never worn. leading to the author’s birthday, I’m going to offer a daily post of my own six-word story. readers are encouraged to respond with their own]

You don’t want to see midnight.

13 minutes of prog-metal mayhem. Filmed for Japanese television. Apparently for a show called Party-Dude!

There are worse ways to start your week.

[legend has it that Ernest Hemingway wrote a six-word story to win a bar bet — For sale: baby shoes, never worn. leading to the author’s birthday, I’m going to offer a daily post of my own six-word story. readers are encouraged to respond with their own]

“Fried or scrambled, eggs is eggs.”

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[legend has it that Ernest Hemingway wrote a six-word story to win a bar bet — For sale: baby shoes, never worn. leading to the author’s birthday, I’m going to offer a daily post of my own six-word story. readers are encouraged to respond with their own]

I keep my emotions bottled up.

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