Frightened of the New World Order, but unsure exactly how to register your displeasure? Need that special something for your Secret Pal in the militia? I’ve found just the thing.

My friend Mike said that, a long time ago. I suspect he’d enjoy, then, Helena Echlin’s Letter from Yale. You might, too, unless “The ode must traverse the problem of solipsism before it can approach participating in the unity which is no longer accessible.” makes sense to you. (In which case I urge counseling.)

ABC reports an, um, interesting theme park has opened in Gruta, Lithuania. Book your trip now!

Chris assures me that this is not in fact illegal, at least in Alabama.

There’s a firm out there selling personal luxury submarines. Unless this is a monstrous hoax, these guys are actually offering subs (though not built on spec — I don’t think they’ve got inventory) from small 2, 4, or 6 passenger boats to 20-, 36-, and 65-meter undersea yachts. The 65-meter Phoenix was designed for a client who didn’t buy; it awaits a buyer for a cool $78 million. For that, though, you get 5 state rooms and a boat capable of remaining submerged (down to 1,000 feet) for up to 3 weeks at a time. No word yet on the torpedo option.

Those pesky goons over at the The Spark are at it again. Gender Test uses your answers and the (in)accuracy of its ultimate guess to improve its data pool. Kind of neat. Also, it purports to show that one gender is slightly better than the other at recognizing whether or not clams are alive.

Er, right.

Eugene Mirman sings. Oh dear sweet Lord.

My right-winger friends love to talk about how biased the media is, which I guess explains the complete love-in over the whole Lewinski/impeachment deal a while back. Of course, it’s not that simple. As case in point, I direct you to a piece in Salon today about the very selective media coverage of the Clinton’s gift fiasco. There’s plenty of very interesting data that never made it to print, largely because a whiff of scandal sells papers. For instance:

• No, HIllary didn’t register anywhere.
• Contrary to most of reports, the $190,000 haul is actually the accumulation of several years’ worth of stuff, not the result of a loophole-exception gift frenzy.
• No, Senatorial gift guidelines don’t play into this at all.
• No, the didn’t take items belonging to the White House.

This feeding frenzy is good food for thought the next time someone babbles about “the liberal media.”

There’s just not much I can say that would improve on it: Charlotte’s Goat.

Betcha think this is a funny webmaster screwup, eh? Think again.

Why do my own ranting about the aggressive stupidity of most big-budget American Cinema when the SF Chronicle’s Jon Carroll will do it for me?

Or, at least, you know you know something. One of the things you now know is where AskJeeves gets its answers. Go on, show off a little. You know you want to.

You damned, dirty ape.

If you ever have a sense that someone in your life might be making tickmarks in a notebook concerning your alleged misbehavior, remember, you might be right.

Some jackass has managed to burn the hell out of himself attempting to mimic a stunt from MTV‘s Jackass, only without the elaborate safety precautions no doubt undertaken by the possibly eponymous host.

This fellow seems to be a bit confused about the traditional notion of “chasing a little tail.”

Not feeling fresh enough? Maybe you ought to shove a lit candle up your butt.

Ever feel the need to bathe in Jello? Yeah, me, too.

Remember all the awful things I’ve sent you to under this heading? I think we may have hit some sort of barrier with this one.

Unless said barrier is surpassed by this.

The Unemployed Philosophers Guild offers a number of compelling products, including Dorothy Parker martini glasses and a pillow printed with the Last Supper that plays “Hey Jude.”

No, really.

With the election and coronation of Bush II, ‘Our Long National Nightmare Of Peace And Prosperity Is Finally Over’. And thank God — or at least the Supreme Court — for that.

I got yer pope, baby. Yeah, you know.

No, I’m not talking about me.

The Austin Chronicle’s Harvy Pekar has cut loose on Ken Burns’ Jazz documentary. While I am enjoying the film for the most part, Pekar makes some valid points that are worth discussing (including the by-now-oft-noted point that Burns essentially stops in 1960; the last 40 years are crammed into the final episode). Long, but worth a look.

Ol’ Tom points out that 1962’s most famous bikini is up for auction. When Ms Andress emerged from the sea in said item, Kennedy was president and “shaken, not stirred” wasn’t a cliche.

Someday, when one of your children asks this important yet awkward historical question, you can just send them here.

International playboy and raconteur Chris Mohney, the driving force behind that largely (okay, completely) forgotten online zines WordGun and Xora (neither of which even exist as dead sites anymore), has made himself a short movie, and he’s a-hawkin’ it on the Internet.

Check out Piper, starring Joey Norwood and Karsten Propper.

I’m not sure there’s anything I can say that can prepare you for these people.

The good folks at the Modern Humorist have had their way with another of our childhood icons, teen detective Enyclopedia Brown (God love ’em). I encourage you to take a look at Encyclopedia Brown and the Case of the Supreme Court Showdown.

Now, really, how early is too early?

The good people at The Spark have provided the Death Test. Accordingly, I expect to shuffle off this mortal coil on February 11, 2048, just shy of my 78th birthday. I’m reasonably confortable with this; it’s the 9% chance that the cause of death will be “electrolysis” that bothers me, not to mention the 5% chance of “wild animal mauling.”

In keeping with the theory that the most amusing things about the U.K. are the bits they got wrong (for example, ), I provide this glimpse via the Arizona Republic of the famed London Guardian’s Corrections and Amplifications section.

Or, at least, don’t use my microwave.

By now we’ve all seen the modern, nostalgia-driven, suite of action figures available. But there’s one problem: they’re all someone else.

How about an action figure of YOU? For about $250, these guys will render you in 1:6 scale, just in case you always wanted to see how you’d look in (the original) Steve Austin’s stylin’ red jumpsuit.

There are times when I wonder about my decorating skills — as opposed, of course, to not giving a damn about my decorating skills, which is most of the rest of the time. Using this site as a reference, however, allows me a certain degree of confidence.

In the event you find yourself becoming amorous with a Victorian, the standard moans and wails may not be appropriate. Fortunately, someone has addressed this pressing issue.

Several years ago, some friends and I noted that there appeared to be “final” editions of a few genre films surfacing. For example, after Eastwood’s Unforgiven, there is little reason to make another serious Western film.

Acclaimed Taiwanese director Ang Lee (The Wedding Banquet, Eat Drink Man Woman, Sense and Sensibility, The Ice Storm, Ride with the Devil) has probably finished off a lump of genres in the beautiful Wu hu zang long, released in the US as Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. IMDB lists this as “Fantasy / Action / Adventure / Western / Drama / Romance (more);” that about covers it — maybe. It’s the best thing I’ve seen since I don’t know when (American Beauty comes to mind).

Lee manages to juggle a reasonably complex plot, at least two romantic entanglements, fight scenes that defy description (think Bruce Lee meets The Matrix), a magic sword, and flying heros without seeming cheesy or contrived. Veteran Hong Kong actors Chow Yun-Fat (Anna and the King, Hard Boiled, The Killer) and Michelle Yeoh (Tomorrow Never Dies) lead the cast, but Ziyi Zhang (the otherwise betrothed Jen) and Chen Chang (the bandit Lo, Jen’s actual love interest) are just as charming and compelling. Do not miss this, even if subtitles aren’t your favorite thing. By ten minutes in, you’ll forget you’re reading. Wow.

Years ago, when I first learned to code, there was a fairly well-known algorithm called animal that allowed a program to mimic intelligence by amassing data from user interaction about what animal they were pretending to be.

This is what happens when that algorithm meets the web and some weird people.

I’l bet you thought this election crap was over, didn’t you?

As it turns out, not quite. Someone else gets to have His say…

Ever since the fifties, I think, Right-wing[nut] adults terrified of the popular culture that kids adore (perhaps largely because their elders loathe it) have tried to repackage their worldview in the trappings of something hip. Predictably, this meets with dreadful and obviously derivative results (I mean, when’s the last time a contemporary Christian band actually made a musical contribution?).

This, however, is really the most amazing example I’ve ever seen. Let’s just say I’m pretty sure Vince McMahon isn’t exactly shaking in his boots. What’s next, I wonder? Fundamentalist NASCAR?

I know we’re all – mostly – well beyond our primers, but perhaps this particular trip on the wayback machine is twisted enough to justify a late-semester review. (Courtesy of Tom, natch.)

Net.kooks or lone crusaders for justice? We may never know about these guys. Godspeed.

I’ve been waiting for the right link to use for these guys for a while, and finally someone has obliged.

Make up your own joke about scary Russian women. I know Lindsey will.

Feel like giving your boss a piece of your mind, but don’t want to repeat yourself? Recovering from a lifetime of sheltered fundamentalism? Then you might benefit from Roger’s Profanisaurus.

These pictures of the USS Cole being, er, picked up in the wake of the terrorist bombing in Yemen are downright stunning. You’ll probably need to right-click and download the file (option-click for Mac people); it’s about 1.5mb, but worth the time unless your connection is particularly awful.

This is so, so wrong. I love the Internet.

If the citation is correct, this brief illustrated biography of George W. Bush is the best thing ever to come out of Maxim, otherwise known as “Esquire for people who move their lips when they read.”

Also, check out the photoshopped image at the end of the sequence.

For some of our friends, this may hit too close to home. Good thing I work for a good old fashioned services company!

Please join me in annoying these freaks by celebrating the anniversary of the ratification of the Twenty-first Amendment, which repealed the Eighteenth Amendment. Prohibition ended on December 5, 1933 (sticklers will note that this simply restored the rights of states to make their own choices, but the point was made). Cheers.

I think we’re all quite familiar with the state of the Internet industry today. Many firms have been caught flat-footed by the sudden need for sound fundamental business metrics, and morale has followed valuations into the red — or, at least, to levels more justifiable on the aforementioned fundamentals.

Leave it to the New Yorker to have some fun with this. Taking a page out of Dan Savage’s election-primary prank book, former Letterman staffer Rodney Rothman masqueraded as an employee in the New York office of i-builder Luminant (which recently laid off 25% of its workforce) for three weeks. One day he just started showing up, camped a at a desk, and commenced to aping what he saw as local tribe behavior as “a transfer from the Chicago office.” He even managed to appear on their office phone list, and appears to have completely escaped detection (at least until the November 27th New Yorker hit the stands).

Needless to say, Luminant management is not amused by the story.

Much of the gibberish used to demostrate typesetting and fonts begins exactly this way. It looks like Latin, but won’t parse as such. To make matters worse, it’s referred to as “greeking” or “greek text,” when it’s clearly not that, either.

Here is a page that purports to explain this pseudo-convention, why it’s used, and where it originated. It’s older than you think.

Regardless of your feelings about the Florida electoral madness, I think you’ll find Ron Rosenbaum’s column in the New York Observer to be a lovely burst of screed. He pulls no punches about some fairly bizarre events down there, and minces no words about the obvious conflicts of interest involved in having Florida Secretary of State Harris in key roles for both the recount and Bush’s local campaign. Food for thought.

Annoyed by telemarketers? Don’t mind bewildering your family? This device may be just the ticket.