There are days when I create the material that shows up here by pulling some of the more distressed and diseased ideas out of my head (you were thinking lower, weren't you?) and nailing them through a keyboard to this piece of ether.
Sometimes that's way more of a process than it needs to be. Other days, it's a walk in the park.
This is one of those days though that's probably not how it's said in the hallways of the newspaper where this item first appeared. And unless that nation has better enforced pooper-scooper laws, I'd skip that Noel Coward casualness towards wearing foot ware.
One of the casualties of the Internet age was the disappearance from supermarket checkouts of a black and white photo-filled tabloid called Weekly World News or something like that. You know the one I mean.
At least four times a year there was a picture of a flying saucer landing on the flight deck of a US Navy aircraft carrier and more often than any of us might like there'd be an update on the goings-on of a character usually referred to in the headline as "Bat Boy" because that's what he looked like, as opposed to a certain roly-poly bat-faced girl who, to my knowledge, never appeared on its pages.
I loved it because I knew every word in it was utterly bogus, designed to entice and repel me simultaneously. I may suspect a percentage of what I read in my local 'real' newspaper is, kindly put, less than accurate as is the case but with these guys, Iran's FARS News Agency, when you buy the ticket you get the WHOLE ride.
Maybe Weekly World News just changed its name?
For me, that FARS news story provokes a "I'll take whack jobs for $600, Alex" reaction though if I recall my Weekly World News news team correctly, their lead reporter, Ed Anger, may have best captured my true emotions when claiming (ten times a week at least) something or someone "makes me pig-biting mad."
I prefer my pig cured and surrounded by eggs, if you know what I mean. Nudge, nudge. Wink, wink.
-bill kenny
Ramblings of a badly aged Baby Boomer who went from Rebel Without a Cause to Bozo Without a Clue in, seemingly, the same afternoon.
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