Sadly, No! spies this skidmark in the comments on some wanky wingnut weblog:

Sometimes I feel the USA isn't Gondor, we are Rohan. Our leader is a prematurely senile fart who used to be a badass, the young warriors are out in the cold, and policy direction is in the hands of a spineless craven traitor who sold out for the promise of gold and a trophy wife. But still, we ride out to hunt the Orcs, with steel in our hands, fire in our eyes, and a song in our hearts.

Yeah! And then you get the 50 gold and buy yourself some wicked leather armor at Silvermoon City.

Stoopd Orcs! U Got pWn3d!!!1!

There's even more, behind the link.

Bush's Watch Stolen?

The Lesbian Hot 100

Chuck Norris makes a funny, in an article called "If I am elected president":

First and foremost, however, my greatest priorities will be to …

Personally smoke out bin Laden by myself and round-house kick him all the way back to America, where my United Fighting Arts Federation will handle the justice issues.

Yeah, sure you will.

Breast Milk Cheese

Sometimes they show signs of intelligence and wit:
Some see dead mayor's face in sycamore tree:

ROSEMONT, Illinois (AP) -- Donald Stephens spent more than half a century at the helm of this Chicago suburb.

Now, less than two months after his death, some say an eerie likeness of the late mayor's face has appeared in the peeling bark of a 50-foot sycamore.

The image is fueling speculation and wonder in the village of 4,200 residents -- the town Stephens is credited with transforming from a tiny enclave of just a few dozen people to a bustling community with one of the nation's largest convention centers.

"He told me, you screw things up, I'm gonna haunt you," said Bradley Stephens, the mayor's 44-year-old son who was appointed to complete his father's term. "When it starts talking, we're all in trouble."

The tree, outside a health club, was twice slated to be torn down. It was saved each time because Stephens intervened.

Now, it is guarded by a barricade, and a single candle placed by well-wishers stands nearby.

But not everyone is convinced it looks like Stephens.

"I see Jesus," said Cathy Sansone, the membership director at the health club who says any resemblance to the late mayor is simply the "power of suggestion."

I've had nightmares of shit just like this growing out of my skin. I had no idea it was actually real. The world is no longer safe for me.

Here's one of the strangest concepts I've seen for a blog:

Here I'll review a random hour of radio, maybe about once weekly. Commercial music radio only, and I think at least to start I'm gonna go up the dial. Each week I'll suggest a song that the radio should have played, and you can listen to it and see if you agree with me. Fun, right?

If you like music reviews, as I do, then yeah, it's pretty fun. Here's a sample from 95.5 WBRU FM. Tuesday, April 3, 2007. 8:07 to 9:07 PM:

8:45. Bush, Comedown. C-
You know what's weird? That Gavin Rossdale has been, and continues to be, married to Gwen Stefani. What do they talk about? Does she say, "I'm gonna make a song where I sample 'The Lonely Goatherd Song' but that otherwise sounds like 'Apollo 9' by Adam Ant, and it's gonna be huge!" And then he says, "That's nice, dear, but I think I'll just keep on clinging to the washed up, dated mix of grunge and metal that made me briefly, irritatingly famous, even though no one cares about it anymore, including me from the sound of it." What a weird couple.

Andrew Bird has arranged to play a show in Asheville, NC, on 9/11 . So, I'm gonna make that 4 hour-drive, goddamn it, and I'm gonna see me some Andrew Bird in the hippy-hippest little mountain town in NC. It was either that, or trek all the way to fucking Atlanta. F that.

No no no.

First you take the drugs, and then you see the spiders.

Watching the spiders take the drugs just gets it all bass-ackwards.