Tag: freakshow

It’s a more explosive story than Climategate! Why did Elin Woods go after her husband’s car with “a golf club”? Look, the Official Story is ludicrous. The former Swedish model obviously knew about her husband’s various women from the start; it’s not as if Scandinavians even bother with marriage anymore. By the time the final count of Tiger’s affairs is complete, he’ll probably be confirmed to have more mistresses than major tropies. More importantly, the photos of the car showed unmistakable signs of residue from an outdated chemical compound manufactured only in Germany from 1936 to 1944.

What really happened is that Elin discovered text messages between Tiger and Amanda Knox proving that he had been involved with Knox, who killed Kercher in a fit of jealousy over Kercher’s parallel affair with Woods. Tiger’s secret plan to pay off the judge with a $1 million bribe, thus securing Knox’s silence, had failed because Knox made the mistake of bringing in Sollecito, a well-known knifeman of the Napolese Gomorra, instead of lending Kercher the Buick Enclave with the sabotaged brakes which Tiger gave her for that purpose. Sollecito’s involvement backfired on Knox after the judge declined the bribe due to the assassination of his brother, a Mafia prosecutor for the city of Salerno, during the Mani Pulite affair of the mid-1990s.

But now that Knox has been convicted she has no reason to keep quiet any longer, which is why Tiger’s lawyers are presently waging a desperate battle to prevent him from being extradited to Italy. And the failure of the judicial bribe was the real reason why Tiger was attempting to flee his house and seek asylum in Cuba; Elin, knowing that his arrest and conviction would provide her with a more favorable divorce settlement, prevented his escape by using a “golf club” that was actually a functioning Panzerfaust borrowed from the collection of their nearby neighbor, World War II enthusiast Curt Schilling.

In other, much less important news, six more U.S. banks with $13.5 billion in assets were seized yesterday as the world’s leaders prepare to gather in Copenhagen in order to decide what percentage of the global serfdom will be permitted to continue exhaling carbon dioxide.

Teenage folk singer killed by coyotes

How, I wonder, do you attempt to explain this sort of thing to the next-of-kin if you’re the responsible policeman? I mean, somewhere under the badge, you too are a human being, you have feelings, and you probably wouldn’t be given the assignment if you weren’t at least somewhat sensitive to the emotions of others. But then comes that critical moment when you are asked how it happened, and you have to answer “Coyotes.”

Wolves would be one thing. Bears, no problem at all. Even ants, I could understand, having kept a suspicious eye on the little bastards since reading about Leiningen’s encounter with them as a child. Squirrels or lemmings, on the other hand, would be even worse. And then of course, when one first reads the headline, it’s hard to escape the fleeting thought that there could be an element of divine justice at work there.

Granolas never seem to grasp that “communing with Nature” sometimes means that you’ll be playing the part of the bread and wine.

I didn’t think it was healthy when American women confessed to dreaming about Obama. So, I’m not quite sure what to think about this unexpected confession by Chad the Elder. Saint Paul, of course, is quick to diagnose the underlying issue:

It was quite a mix of symbolism and revealed subconscious needs and anxieties. What could it all mean? Based on some undergraduate psychology courses, years of watching the old Bob Newhart show, and decades of observing Chad interact with society, my initial diagnosis was obvious: latent homosexuality.

See, this sort of thing is why I don’t go on book tour….

Bane Walks On

He stalked into the shadowed vale
His six-gun at his side,
A twelve-gauge strapped across his back
And boots with knives inside.

He spared no glance for lives behind
Nor for the lurking dark
That shivered as he passed it by,
Eyes ever cold and stark.

A shrouded wight stood in his way,
Its bony hand did twitch
White-knuckled on its wicked scythe.
“Not you, son of a bitch!”

The tall man only grinned and told
His foe to go to Hell.
The Reaper bowed and stepped aside,
A past lesson learned well.

Beyond the darkness, blinding light
Caused his hard eyes to narrow.
And still the man stood tall and proud
His back straight as an arrow.

Then thunder roared high overhead.
“My child, you’re here at last!
Fear not, I have much work for you
A labor long and vast.

“I am the God of Grace and yet
There must be Justice too.
I hear the cries of the despised
The wicked owe their due.

“Some serve with harps and sing My praise,
Hosannas with each breath.
But you shall sing a different song,
My new Angel of Death.”

The tall man kneeled and bowed his head.
“Lord, I shall do Your Will.”
And then he smiled, baring his teeth,
“Just tell me who to kill.”

Requiescat in pace, Bane.