Tag Archives: Drew Peterson

Wallet full of teeth

joe* Drew Peterson may be willing to box his girlfriend’s ex.  The best part will be the weigh-in, when we get to see ol’ Drew in his skivvies.  Of course, those weigh-ins get pretty testy.  Usually a lot of trash talk.  I expect Drew to say something along the lines of, “I’m gonna hit you so hard, you’ll fall down and I’ll smother you with a pillow and put you in a giant tupperware tub and drive you out to the middle of nowhere and bury you and tell everyone you just ran away.”

Seems like something he’d say.

* You can only have between 6-12 close friends.  (Bonus item from the article: the wealthiest among us had the most friends in school.)  Based on my number of school friends, I guess I should anticipate unemployment any day now.

Closeup of young woman receiving back massage.* Dubious research!  We enjoy experiences more when they’re interrupted.  So the theory goes, you have more fun watching a TV show with commercials.  The article says people report being happier when receiving a massage that’s interrupted.  I will keep this in mind should I ever get “alone time” with a lady.  Mid-deed, I’ll just get up and start reorganizing her closet or something.

* Goofball Colorado Congressman tells bloggers they’re killing old media and the change is “mostly for better.”  Yeah.  Who wants those stodgy old newspapers informing us and keeping an eye on corrupt politicians and corporations?  Certainly not me.

* Who wants to see New York Governor David Paterson in really short running shorts?  Not you.  No!  Don’t click there!  I said not you!

catstop* Bong Cat Update!  The guy put his cat in the bong at least twice before.  Some pot head out there is taking this theory to the next level, assembling giant bales of weed in his living room and putting his mouth on his chimney to calm the toddlers inside.

* Some moron legislator in West Virginia is attempting to ban Barbie doll sales.  He claims they encourage girls to focus more on beauty than intelligence.  Yeah?  So?  Don’t we want girls to be pretty?  Maybe he doesn’t.  (Let’s all guess why this guy doesn’t care about beautiful women, shall we?) 

Besides, Barbie has a pretty awesome resume, including paleontologist, astronaut and President of the United States.  Hell, I wanna grow up to be Barbie.  Ken, on the other hand… that guy is a lazy jerk.

rachelray* Rachel Ray defends her FHM spread.  Wait.  Rachel Ray had an FHM spread?  Can something be hot and creepy at the same time?

* Every time I visit NBCChicago.com, the “most popular” box always features something called “Trucking Duck.”  I have never clicked on this story because it just looks to be video of some truck driver who drives around with a duck in his cab.  What’s perplexing is that this story has remained in the most popular section since the site’s relaunch several months ago.  Do we ever clear the decks on that tally or is this duck trucker story so compelling that it is consistently the most popular thing on the website?  I’m not even going to link to it because that will give it needless publicity.  I’m declaring war on you, Trucking Duck.  And I have a hankering for foie gras.

* 5 reasons the smartest people have the toughest time dating.  Because we spend more time on our blog every morning than attempting to talk to the opposite sex?

* From the Institute of Made-Up Science: the smell of rotten eggs turns men on.  So roll around in garbage, ladies!

300px-incandescent_light_bulb* GE CEO Jeff Immelt just bought 50,000 shares in our company to show his confidence.  Bear in mind 50,000 shares of GE currently cost a grand total of $1.48, so it’s not a huge investment.

* Remember the minor league baseball player who was traded for ten maple bats?  He’s dead.  Guess the team with the bats ended up with the better end of that deal, huh?

* If you drive a mid-90s green Ford Escort, there’s a guy in Oregon who plans to set your car on fire.  Cop quote: “I think this person really doesn’t like Ford Escorts.”

* If you’re buying a wallet from Wal-Mart, make sure you check to make sure it comes with its ten complimentary human teeth.

zoraida* Today, I finally diagnosed Zoraida.  She has Terminal Honesty Disease.  This morning, when interviewing an author, she came right out and said, “I haven’t read the book.”  On other occasions, she’s read a story and declared on the air, “That story doesn’t make sense” or, “That’s not what we reported yesterday.”  There is no cure for Terminal Honesty Disease.  Please wear a purple ribbon to raise awareness.

* Working the night shift puts you more at risk for obesity, diabetes and heart disease.  Coincidentally, dying from one of those things is the only way to escape the night shift.  (I’m coming, sweet oblivion!)

* Men’s sex lives suffer as they get fatter.  While manatee-shaped ladies have no shortage of suitors, I assume.

gun20barrel* “Kill my wife.”
“How much are you gonna pay me?”
“A thousand bucks.”
“Two thousand bucks.”
“Two thousand bucks… and a gift card to Westshore Pizza for $13.06.”
“When do you want her dead?”

* Based on the top 36 of “American Idol,” I think we can safely put Lil Rounds and Danny Gokey in the final.  Lil wins.


Valentine’s Leftovers

* For regular blog readers, observe that I was able to crank out a blog on Friday.  If you missed it, today is a lovely double bonus.  Scroll down for a belated Valentine’s gift.

* Unsolicited comment from Zoraida this morning…

You have a hot bod.  Well… upper bod.  I have not seen the legs.

Um.  Thank you?

* Did you hear about the 13-year-old British boy who just became a father? Madness.  The kid knocked up his girlfriend when he was just 12.  In an interview, the boy admitted he didn’t know what the word “financially” meant and acknowledged he doesn’t even get an allowance.  And he has eight siblings of his own.

Dear old dad

Dear old dad

Thoughts on the 13-year-old father…

1) We must keep him away from Britney and Jamie Lynn.
2) We REALLY have to keep him away from Octo-Mom.
3) On second thought, the best idea is just to trap him and his mega-penis in The Phantom Zone, like the villains at the beginning of the 1978 “Superman” movie.

The mother of the newborn is just 14.  Her parents let the boyfriend spend the night with her. Everyone involved in this story needs a severe slapping.

* Turns out Octo-Mom hasn’t done the deed in 8 years and now she’s taking a vow of chastity. Yes, now that a certain part of her anatomy “hangs like sleeve of wizard,” as Borat would say.

george-bush-sour* C-SPAN survey puts Lincoln atop the list of our best presidents.  George W Bush comes in 36th. The worst?  James Buchanan. Don’t blame me, I voted for Kodos.

* Staying with the Presidential theme, I saw “Frost/Nixon” over the weekend.  Very good stuff.  A truly compelling portrait of Nixon.  You find yourself rooting against him until he breaks.  And then you feel very, very sad for this man.  I’m not sure how much of it is true and how much is fictionalized, but I do know that I really liked it.  (Not quite “Best Picture” material, but very solid.)

* For those of you who are looking for the perfect companion to your Barack Obama T-shirt, Barack Obama sweatpants, Barack Obama tattoo and Barack Obama flip-flops, the state of Illinois introduces… the Barack Obama license plate. (He’s not a political leader, he’s a fashion statement.)

heart* The First Family enjoyed Valentine’s dinner in my neighborhood. I’m not gonna lie.  I’m kinda hurt I wasn’t invited.

* I bet you’re wondering how I spent Valentine’s Day.  I watched TV and used a gift card that I’d been sitting on for more than two years.  (Items purchased: 1 shirt, 1 pair of jeans.)  Then I watched more TV.  It was very romantic.

* Speaking of romance, props to Chicagoist for finding this hilarious “seduction” video.  There’s a good 5 seconds that verges on soft-core porn, but the rest is comedy gold.  (Pay particular attention to the man standing between the two women who say they love a well-dressed man.  More obvious juxtaposition has never occurred.)

* If you can’t just start pawing your partner in a restaurant like those weirdos, consider scheduling sex. Most men already do that.  They just circle every day on their calendar and cross their fingers.

* 43.1% of Americans expected to have sex on Valentine’s Day.  At least me percent is still waiting.

* Things are fun for our sister station in Tampa, where all the producers were asked to sign letters acknowledging that they just got canned.  I heard an unsubstantiated claim today that you could buy the entire Sun-Times organization for $7 million.  But the operation needs to trim $75 million just to break even.

I’m not sure when it happened, but I think journalism died during the last decade.

diet_pills* Would you take a pill that erases bad memories? I’d need a prescription wiping out everything from 9th grade on.

Cue “Eternal Sunshine” link.

* Chicago’s workforce is twice as likely to manage stress with booze. Fun fact: I am drunk right now.  I don’t start writing my show each morning until I get so hammered I see unicorns.

* If you are upset about something, scientists say you’ll feel better if you write it down. Worked for Jack Nicholson in “The Shining.”

mikeandthebotsly7* One of my heroes, Mike Nelson (former star of “Mystery Science Theater 3000”), is eating nothing but bacon for the entirety of February. I didn’t think it was possible for me to be more in awe of him.  I am proven wrong.  Eat that bacon, Mike.  Eat it for all of us who have neither the guts nor the reckless hatred of our bodies to do so.

* This article gives a surprisingly detailed breakdown of the online dating game.  Here’s how it works as I understand it:

Step 1: Create a profile.
Step 2: Pay a subscription fee.
Step 3: Browse other profiles.
Step 4: Communicate.
Step 5: Meet in person.
Step 6: Get rejected.

I find it’s much more effective just to skip straight to step six without the hassle of paying for the privilege.

* Chicagoist pens an open letter to Christina Raines, a.k.a. Drew Peterson’s main squeeze, a.k.a. “Death Wish Sally,” a.k.a. Victim #3 (ALLEGEDLY!)

* Should women rule the world? Don’t they already?

box_g_tyson_holyfield_300* Roommate #1: “Hey, you took my parking space!”
Roommate #2: (Bites off roommate’s earlobe.)

* The thing men most want in a woman is “mutual attraction and love.” Their least desirable characteristic?  Chastity.  So whore it up, ladies!  Most guys won’t care about your tryst with walking herpes sore Bret Michaels on the “Rock of Love Bus.”

* Are hugs the new handshakes? Based on my dating history since I moved to Chicago, being maced in the face is the new handshake.

* Science breaks down why we fear serial killers wearing masks. This provides an opportunity to bust out an old favorite…

Friday the 13th: Your lucky day

* Oh, look.  A blog!  Turns out we only have two guests at the Auto Show, so we believe Matt is up to the task by himself.

doncorleoneI do give props to the auto show for the humor on the back of their media passes.  It has several rules like, “A government-issued photo ID must be presented for admission” and “Duplication of credentials is illegal and will be prosecuted.”  The last one says, “Please remember that I didn’t know until this day that it was Barzini all along.”

Are you kidding me?  How awesome is that?  (If you don’t get it, rent this and get back to me.)

* Even though I don’t have to babysit the Auto Show, I do have to babysit some high school kids today.  Zoraida has a tour group coming in.  My job?  To discourage them from pursuing journalism as a career.  First, it will save them the heartache of being laid off like every journalist will be over the course of the next decade.  Second, keeping the youngsters out of the profession means less competition for me.

il_peterson2* My first contribution to the Mothership is live.  Enjoy Rebound to Romance: The Drew Peterson Way.

* Speaking of Drew, his fiancee is hoping for a summer wedding.  They’re registered at Bed, Bath and You’ll Never Find the Body.  (ALLEGEDLY!)

* Some poor clown who’s never heard of Google image search just paid $37,500 for a nude picture of Madonna. Yikes.  There must be prettier girls who are willing to bare all for half that.

* Speaking of baring all, some British fashion designers have come up with a dress that dissolves in water. Allow me to quote Zoraida – “I would like the disappearing dress.  I would wear it on air.”  Hot.

friday-13th* Here’s more information than you ever cared to know about Friday the 13th. I am not superstitious, so I do not fear this day.  I mean, what tragedy is going to befall me the day before Valentine’s Day?  Am I going to become even more single?  Impossible.

* While you mull how awful it must be to be me, consider the five most tragic love stories in history.

* NBC5 subscribes to a service called STNGWire.  It supplies us with breaking news throughout the city.  Today’s story on the parking meter rate hike blew me away.  Check out these first few lines…

One quarter weighs 0.2 of an ounce, which isn’t much — you barely feel it.

But 28 quarters weigh as much as a billiard ball — liable to rip a hole in your pocket.

And 28 quarters are what it’s going to take, starting Friday, to park for two hours at a Loop parking meter under the city’s new privatization agreement.

Whoever wrote that needs a promotion.  Because THAT is some of the best writing I’ve read in a long, long time.

* And now… 5 things men must know about women. The omitted number 6?  All of them think Drew Peterson is dreamy.

* A hideous woman has her hideously long fingernails broken in a car crash. (She holds the world record for the longest nails.  And for person I’d least like to meet.)  Yes, the link contains a picture of her freak show nails.

* Since I didn’t have to go to the Auto Show, Rob started flailing his arms like a Muppet, demanding that I generate “the greatest blog ever.”  For bonus content, I reach back to an article I wrote for my college newspaper.  Not much has changed in the decade or so since I wrote this…

Valentine’s Day marred by British perversions
Originally published in The Western Herald – February 20, 2001

As I sat home alone on Valentine’s Day, I began analyzing my situation.  Why was I home alone?  Why should I not be?  That’s when I changed to The Learning Channel, and beheld the insidious TV program that surely thwarted me – Desmond Morris’ “The Human Sexes.”

Since its initial showing on American TV in 1997, TLC has rerun this BBC documentary series about three times a year.  Every time it is shown, I cease all other activity and watch each episode to completion.

desmor_h250Morris is a likable enough chap.  He’s got a fine British accent and one of the most structurally sound comb-overs in recorded history.  It is this voice, coupled with the bizarre televised images that come to mind whenever I witness or participate in male-female interaction.

I remember, with frightening clarity, the comparison of the penis bones of a hedgehog and a walrus.  Most male mammals have an “os” penis, which means they can get their jungle-freak on without the hassle of achieving an erection.  Morris explains this relates to the subtle visual signals sent by women in order to facilitate human male arousal.

The mere thought of needing a penile bone shaft is frightening enough to a normal guy like me, but the fact that Desmond Morris felt comfortable enough to lift and examine such bones on national TV is horrifying on its own merit.  Because of the context of the series, however, such images are burned in my mind.

Take this direct quote from one episode.  “Young adults, the world over, gyrate in front of one another, enacting symbolic locomotion that goes nowhere.  We call it ‘dancing.’  Energetic actions of the dancers suggest vigorous physical qualities that translate well into strong procreative potential.”

Well, thank you for the tricorder reading, Mr. Spock.

Also perplexing is Morris’ frequent use of the word “fecundity,” which isn’t something you hear on your average TV program.  Essentially, it means “fertility,” but “fertility” isn’t good enough for a smart bloke like ol’ Des.  The repeated use of such terms, coupled with all the analysis of male-female interaction would make the following scene more than likely.

Me: Hello, I am a male currently without pair-bond, and I was interested to assess your fecundity. Please respond with your availability, or lack thereof, by displaying signals of mutual affection or disinterest, in accordance with your current mating status.

Random Girl: Get away from me, freak!

Me: Touché.

Observe this statement by Morris, regarding the back alley surgery on a young boy in the Philippines, who pays a man with dirty fingernails to slit open his penis and insert several green BB pellets.  “The new, improved penis will be covered in small, hard protruding lumps.  These will bring two rewards to their proud owner.  They will provide extra stimulation for his female sex partners and, perhaps even more importantly, they will add considerably to his sexual status among his male friends.”

dr-rivieraA) This kid’s penis is neither new, nor improved. He’s got a big scar and plastic BB pellets in it.

B) If this kid does get “two rewards,” they are probably a rampant bacterial crotch infection and the nickname “Castanets” when he wears corduroys.

C) I have male friends.  I don’t want to know if they’ve ever had plastic BB pellets surgically implanted in their genitals.  I also don’t want to see blurry videotape footage of the surgery performed by a man with blackened fingernails in a dirty Filipino back alley.

D) If my friend did get such a surgery, his sexual status would not be enhanced.  Rather, I would run away from this person before he tried to show me Mr. Lumpy.

With such visual images dancing a perverse do-si-do in my brain, I walk a tightrope between insanity and terror.  How could I experience a normal, romantic Valentine’s Day without the thought that if I lived in the Philippines, I would probably be totally psyched about my surgically disfigured member?  Such thought is too much for one man to bear.

Morris also makes frequent mention of the traits all societies find attractive: youth, health and symmetry.  Symmetry? Great, now we have to bring rulers and protractors to find a significant other.  (“Gee, Cindy, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’ve discovered that your left nostril is a full three degrees askew from the bridge of your nose, compared to your more attractive and perpendicular right nostril.”)



All this anthropological analysis is interesting, but depressing.  How can mere mortals stack up against the Kevin Sorbos or the Skeet Ulrichs or the Pat Sajaks of this world?  Surely, their symmetry and gender displays are far greater than the common man.

I used to think love was something beautiful and artistic that could not be categorized.  Now I know better.  Desmond Morris has taught me that love is nothing more than a biochemical response that can be predicted by computers that analyze the opposite sex with the romantic precision that only binary code can bring.

I should have expected to spend Valentine’s Day alone.  My fecundity is not appropriately displayed according to Euclidean geometry.  Damn you, Desmond Morris.

(You can see the first episode below.  Scholarly nudity within.)

Super Bowl Recap!


* The Steelers were victorious.  Huzzah!

What a great game.  Big defensive plays, big offensive plays, the winning score with less than a minute to go.  It was awesome.  Totally worth me taking a day off work to hang with my Michigan crew.  Larry Fitzgerald is a beast.  That catch in the end zone was uncanny like an X-Man.  Or maybe he’s a Jedi.  Either way, I was impressed.  Of course, Santonio Holmes one-upped him with that tiptoe catch in triple coverage.  Just a fantastic game.

It was so much fun, I managed to forget I have to reapply for my job, until my eyes drifted to the NBC peacock in the corner of the screen.  Then my eyes filled with tears.  The Terrible Towel soaked them up like a ShamWow.

* Jennifer Hudson’s anthem was good, but hardly great.  I heard someone saying it was the best ever.  To that guy, I point to a pre-crack Whitney Houston, whose anthem was beyond reproach.  Both ladies lip synched, so I issue demerits.

* This whole “best ever” business grates on me.  Every year, people say something about the Super Bowl was “the best ever.”  A lot of people are calling this one the best Super Bowl ever.  It may be worthy, but we need time to sort that out.  norwoodLast year’s had the weight of a possible undefeated season hanging on it, plus that insane Eli-escaping-and-throwing-to-David-Tyree’s-helmet play.  The Rams-Titans Super Bowl was awesome.  So was the Broncos-Packers showdown.  For my money, the best Super Bowl was the one Whitney sang for – Super Bowl XXV.  You had the flashy, high-powered Buffalo Bills against the grind-it-out Giants.  And it ended on that Scott Norwood missed kick.  Oh, and you had a backup quarterback – Jeff Hostetler – facing incredible pressure.  I loved that game.

* When it comes to commercials, my favorite was also the winner of the USA Today ad meter – the Doritos snow globe spot.  Not a huge fan of crotch trauma, but throwing it through the vending machine was cool.  I also liked the Miller High Life one-second ad.  (“High Life!”)

I don’t get why everyone goes nuts for the commercials with animals in them.  The Budweiser Clydesdales annoy me.  And the stupid Sobe lizards feel like a retread of the Budweiser frogs, but creepier.  This year, the game featured several commercials in 3-D, so we gave them a shot…


But the 3-D was annoying.  It didn’t really work too well.  I just kept thinking if I wanted to see something off-color and blurry, I’d just shove a fistful of Kool-Aid dust in my eyes.

Best Ever Super Bowl ad?  Terrible Terry Tate…

* Halftime was a total letdown.  Bruce Springsteen has some fantastic songs, but his playlist was whack.  DO NOT play the song off your new album at the Super Bowl halftime show.  We want the classics.   He played just four songs and only two (“Born to Run” and “Glory Days”) were even worth a momentary listen.

It would be one thing if it were just a lame performance, but then we also had to suffer the indignity of getting a face-first view of Bruce’s crotch flying at us.  Thank God that part wasn’t 3-D.


As halftimes go, I think Prince totally killed it two years ago. Mixing his own hits with Hendrix and the Foo Fighters… and playing “Purple Rain” IN THE RAIN?  That’s awesome.  U2 also hit a home run in 2002.

* Now that the playoffs are over, I go back to rooting for the Lions.  When they fail to make the playoffs again, I will pick up the Steelers as my backup team.  Hard to repeat as champion, though.  I like the Ravens to win, depending on the whole free agent situation.

* Slate offers 43 observations on the Super Bowl. Amusing.

* CBS is rolling out a reality show about arranged marriages.

CB101841The show introduces four adults age approximately 25-45 who are anxious to get married but have been unsuccessful in their search for a mate. Their friends and family select a spouse for them, and the newly paired couple exchange marital vows. The series follows their marriages.

I suppose they’re not still casting.  Drat.

* Human-animal clones don’t work.  Dr. Moreau unavailable for comment.

* Did you hear the one about the woman who donated a kidney through her vagina? (Dirty joke or real medical procedure?  You decide.)

shaving_face* Speaking of dirty jokes, I previously suggested we might be able to court viewers with a series on “manscaping.”  Today Wendy looked at me skeptically.  Apparently, Matt Rodewald told her “manscaping” means something dirty.  I said, “Wendy, it just refers to grooming.  It’s not like guys are making topiaries out of their pubic hair.”  (Although I’m sure that would be a real ratings grabber.)

* Speaking of Matt (hereafter referred to as “The Father of All Lies”), he’s started his own blog on NBCChicago.com. This means war.

* NBCChicago.com currently features an upcoming event called “Stitch ‘n’ Bitch.”  So now it’s okay to use the word “bitch” on our website.  Add that to “ass” from a few weeks ago and our site is becoming pretty saucy.

* TV increases the risk of depression. Especially when it’s your career and you have to reapply for your own job.  (I kid because I love, Content Center.)

* A new blog chronicles the woes of being married to bankers and Wall Street hotshots during the recesssion.  I say if you marry a soulless banker, you get what you deserve.  One commenter calls these women “an imploding caste of spoiled harpies,” which I find highly amusing.

* Your choice of mate determines your health. No mate, no health?  Sounds about right.

survivor* Once the Great NBC Purge of ’09 is over, those remaining may experience “survivor’s guilt.” Except Arch Nemesis Producer Jim.  When I’m out on the street, he’ll probably grow a mustache just so he can twist it and laugh.

* Drew Peterson’s fiancée was never his fiancée. But she still moved into his house.  The cops helped her move out.  Drew now refers to her as “the one that got away.”  (Ominous.  ALLEGEDLY!)

* Speaking of woman-hating psychopaths (ALLEGEDLY!), there’s this guy who bought his girl breast implants, then tried to cut them out of her when they broke up.   Listen, man.  If you love something, set it free.  And I don’t know how you can’t love breast augmentation.

Alas, poor Blago!

* Thanks to my blog defenders.  Even if this little internet oasis is chewed up by corporate machinery, your comments have warmed the cockles of my heart.  (That’s not exactly true.  I have no heart.  And I don’t know what “cockles” are.)

* I have Monday off so I can actually enjoy a Super Bowl with friends.  Do not panic when you don’t see a blog.  I will attempt to make Tuesday’s extra juicy.

* Rod Blagojevich’s reign of terror is at an end. Celebrate with this Chi-Town Kids rap video we cut earlier this week.

This little project nearly caused my skull to cave in.  First, I had to crawl over every nook and cranny of the newsroom to find the tape of these guys rapping.  Turns out, it was in Art Norman’s mailbox – a cranny I never would have imagined.

Dictator for Life (in his own head)

Dictator for Life (in his own head)

Once I found that, the hunt was on for video to cover it with.  Rashaan Salaam was especially difficult to find, but Writer Theresa came through with that one for me.  I remembered the Judy Baar Topinka/Blago debate because I was here the day that happened.  I had to herd the assembled Chicago journalism community into an elevator and take them to a control room where they could watch the fireworks.  We had no video of Cinnabon, so I punched up a picture of a roll on the computer and grabbed it that way.  And then I spent two hours with an editor to put it all together.  I really wish it had come off better, but I can always try again the next time we rip a governor from office.  (Any day now…)

Should I take credit for posting a link to that song (right click, “save target as”) 11 days before we got around to shooting the group?  This blog predicts the future!

* Speaking of the future, how cool is “Lost” right now?  I am loving it.  Less Hurley, more everyone else.

* I will have several additional videos from recent days to post to the blog shortly.  Stand by.

Illinois Governor Impeachment* The Daily Herald says Blago is out some serious cash, thanks to his shenanigans.  Maybe he can hurry up and age, so he can enjoy those free rides on the CTA for the elderly I enjoy paying for.  (Is Social Security not enough for you people?  Now I have to pay to bus you around?  Get some exercise and walk, freeloaders.)

* What do you get a woman with six children?  How about 8 more? Good Lord.  Why are you taking fertility treatments when you already have SIX?  Highlander Producer Carol flipped out at this story – “That woman had no business putting anything in her.  No penis in.  No nothing in.  And you can quote that on the blog.”  Thanks, Carol.

* If riding your horse drunk in a snowstorm is wrong, I don’t wanna be right.

* Those girls who drive you out into the middle of the woods and throw you out of their car so you’re forced to endure 8 degree temperatures wearing only a dress and one shoe?  They are not your friends.

43873446* An orphanage in Iraq erects a monument to that guy who threw his shoes at President Bush.  Oh, the money I would have given to have seen Lauren Jiggetts whip her heels at Blago outside his home last night.

* Women have more nightmares than men. Men are more likely to dream about sex.  And then there’s me.  I have sexmares.  I don’t want to go into detail, but it’s a string of dreams about parts breaking off.  That’s all I’ll say.

* Pole dancing class for teenagers?!? I was born 15 years too early.

* Married women sleep better than single women. Unless you’re married to Drew Peterson.  (ALLEGEDLY!)

* Speaking of old Drew, he was on Nightline last night, gloating about his new fiancée.  He really seems heartbroken over the disappearance of his current wife.  You will heal, Drew.  You will heal.

You provide the pictures, I’ll provide the war


* President Bush continues his “Hey, man, let’s see you try to be President” tour.  It wouldn’t surprise me to see history treat him more kindly than the present.  In years to come, we may yearn for those heady days when a President can look into a camera and tell terrorists to suck it.  Or not.

* Remember yesterday, when I suggested that the newsroom machinery was gearing up for a winter weather blowout?  Once those gears start spinning, you can’t really stop them. 

Even though no one had a difficult commute into the newsroom…
and even though snow wasn’t blowing like it was supposed to…
and even though the blizzard warning was canceled an hour or two before air…
and even though today is only slightly colder than yesterday…
and even though a semi overturned and we had more stray cheese on the roads than snow…


Uhhhh... let's call it a blizzard and hope no one notices.

…we still ran with the “Dear-God-run-for-your-lives” version of the story.  We’re not alone in that.  Our competitors also came on the air early.  That was a decision made sometime yesterday.  As it turns out, a wrong decision.  But once a news honcho decides that the weather will be awful 12 hours in the future, the weather had better cooperate, or else we’ll pretend it did.

This runs contrary to the mission of a news organization.  We should report, not manufacture.  When we hear that two people were gunned down, we check it out.  If it’s untrue, we don’t report it.  And if it turns out it was a squirt gun that shot them, we don’t report that either.  But if we hear whispers of a major weather event in the future, virtually nothing can pull us off our course.  We had as much severe weather today as Iraq had weapons of mass destruction.


* Since we decided to whip out the terrifying weather hype machine today, I unveiled my new SNOWMAGEDDON ’09 animation.  It will make you wet your pants in fear.  Expect a video on the blog tomorrow.

movie_reelSpeaking of video, I’ve added a new link to the top of this page.  See “Ben’s Video Vault”?  Click that to see highlights from our show.  Looking back over the past year, I’ve gotten away with some pretty awesome stunts.  Anything worth memorializing will end up there in the future.

* Yo’ daddy so fat… he can’t adopt you, so you must remain an orphan.  (24.5 stone = 343 lbs.)

* The going rate for a 22-year-old girl’s virginity is $3.7 million.  She’s not that hot, either.

* Yesterday, my best friend told me that the Jimmy Buffett-owned “Cheeseburger in Paradise” in my hometown of Kalamazoo, Michigan has gone out of business.  I called them to confirm.

17910“I heard a rumor you were closing,” I said.

“It’s no rumor,” the guy on the phone replied.

“Why?” I asked.

“It was a decision made by the home office in Tampa.  Basically just economics.”

“You guys haven’t been around long, have you?” I asked.

“Three and a half years,” he said.

“Wow.  Time flies,” I said.

“Time flies when you’re having fun in paradise,” the man said.

Yeah.  Sure.  “Paradise.”  A loud, garishly-decorated shack with overpriced food, echoing with the sounds of the pied piper of Baby Boomer burnout morons, Jimmy Buffett.  No wonder it went under. 

buffettI’m sure the manager was trying to alert the home office of ways to improve, but Jimmy was like, “Hey, man, don’t worry about it.  Have a piña colada and liquidate your 401K and invest in hammocks.”  Moments later, the business went belly-up.  Yes, the restaurant failed because it was run by a man as talented at remaining sober as he is at making quality music. 

Next time I go back to Kalamazoo, I’m going to relieve myself on the ashes of Jimmy Buffett’s shuttered “paradise.”

(Previously: My love letter to Parrothead Nation.)

* You want a real job in paradise?  How would you like $105,000/year to lounge around on a beautiful tropical island and stay rent-free in a multi-million dollar beach house?  There is such a job.

* The frontrunner for NBC5 Father of the Year is Marcelino de Jesus Martinez, who sold his 14-year-old daughter into marriage for $16,000 in cash, 150 cases of beer, 150 cases of soda and Gatorade, several cases of meat and two cases of wine.  What’s more, he called the cops when the 18-year-old would-be groom refused to pay up.  You’ll never guess how the police reacted.

* Speaking of wonderful fathers, NBC Dateline gets a tour of Drew Peterson’s home.

* 41-year-old New York woman dies after all-night orgy.  Know when to say when, kids.

taco* You might be a redneck if… you get married in a Taco Bell to a woman with the same last name.

* Amy Winehouse is getting divorced.  More shocking: someone’s remained married to Amy Winehouse for the last several years.

* Sane people flee a crumbling California.  Actors continue to flood in.

* The winner of a $500,000 raffle to help sexual abuse victims is… a convicted sex offender.

* Indianapolis Colts’ coach Tony Dungy retired yesterday.  This is the guy you want your son to grow up to be.  Superior in his career, steadfast in his faith, dedicated to his family, well-spoken and selfless.  That’s the best case scenario.  Worst case, your kid grows up to produce a local TV news show at 4:30 in the morning, living in a one-bedroom apartment and lost in the wilderness of bachelorhood.

Globes, Shmobes.

* Anybody watch the Golden Globes last night?  What a joke of an awards show.  I do a bit of acting, and I would trade a warehouse of Golden Globes for one Oscar.  I mean, Sharon Stone won a Golden Globe, so how legit can they be?

slumdogOf course, “Slumdog Millionaire” won all the big prizes.  I hate it when there’s some foreign film I have to run out and see.  Maybe I’m wrong.  Maybe “Slumdog Millionaire” is awesome.  But I spent 55 minutes on the phone with tech support in India a few days ago.  Do I really want the same experience for two hours?  It’s supposed to be some love story involving the Indian equivalent of “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?”  This does not hold much appeal for me.

Last year, two of the top contenders were an awesome movie about a dude who uses an air canister to kill people and an even more awesome movie about an oil baron who screams at people.  Based on that, I couldn’t run to the theater fast enough.

Anyway, the Globes are just a huge mess of an awards show.  If the Academy Awards wants to reverse its ratings slide, it might consider having an awesome American movie (like the one about the guy who dresses like a bat punching the guy who dresses like a clown) win some major statues.

daniel-there-will-be-blood* The ‘stache is back!  I trace this back to “There Will Be Blood.”  Who doesn’t want to go around screaming like Daniel Plainview?

* Fact: Rottweilers do not make good babysitters.

* Who wants alcohol-flavored popcorn?  You do.

* 100 random facts!  (Including… a severed fingertip can grow back naturally, goats wear condoms, and the word “unbepissed” means “not being urinated on.”)

* Women can smell a man’s intentions.  That’s funny.  I don’t think my intentions are a long string of platonic relationships that go nowhere.

* Touching helps couples reduce stress.  Unless I’m involved, then the stress level jacks through the roof and I’m met with a swift crack to the face and a stern, “Don’t touch me.”

il_peterson2* Drew Peterson’s new fiancee just moved in with him.  Cue the coroner in 3, 2, 1… (ALLEGEDLY!)

* Playboy founder Hefner, 82, talks of empire, girlfriends.  NBC5 producer Bowman, 31, blogs of the opposite.

* Obese Americans now outnumber the merely overweight.  Yay, us!  That’s one step closer to making “Wall-E” a reality.

* 1 in 200 kids are vegetarian, no fun to hang out with.

* As Andre chomped down on his one good eyeball in his jail cell, I wonder if he was able to see the inside of his throat.

* Smarter men have more sperm, less idea how to get someone to extract it.

* Pro-Palestinian rally in New York turns violent.  Shocker.

burger_king_bath_sink* Another reason to love Burger King’s marketing team: You can get a free Whopper if you sacrifice 10 Facebook friends.  (Oh, and everybody will know who you threw over for a burger.)

* Remember when, between the ages of 13 and 15, you had sex with your teacher 300 times?  This kid does.

* A Ukrainian bride needs you to attend her wedding in London.  Seems the groom’s side of the church will be packed while hers will be almost totally empty.  I assume I will be in the same boat.  By the time I find someone to marry, most of my relatives will be dead.

* The Shady Lady Brothel will give you a $50 gift card if you spend $300 on their “services.”  Well, I’ve got my 2009 vacation lined up.

* As I blog, Executive Producer Wendy is bouncing off the walls, practically humming with anticipation of the inbound snowstorm.  She cannot wait.  I, however, could go the rest of my life without covering another snow day.  That’s okay.  I have something even more intimidating than the Snowpocalypse ’08 animation lined up.  Tune in tomorrow at 4:30 a.m. and I promise you will wet your pants in fear.

* And finally, here’s our most recent Whiskey Rebellion show.  The suggestion was “toothbrush.”  Everything is improvised.  Adult language within.  (My main contribution begins at 13:30, but I’m sprinkled throughout.)