Stage magicians have been slicing women in half for ages; traditionally this has been a horizontal cut through the midsection, but a few decades back, someone came up with the idea of cutting the young lady lengthwise. I never did figure out how that illusion worked. And I have no idea how this variation on the theme is accomplished:
Somewhere, I suspect, an illusionist is adapting the common woodchipper to stage magic. I’m not sure I want to know how that’s going to work.
I am told that routine maintenance is going on at the host; they said a two-hour window, but only five minutes of actual downtime.
That was 45 minutes ago.
Ten minutes, apparently:
Imitation is said to be the greatest form of flattery but for one Melbourne driver, taking to the streets of Albert Park has turned into a great form of foolery.
Just 10 minutes after purchasing a 2013 Porsche SUV, a 37-year-old Yallambie man was pulled over after allegedly being clocked at more than 60km/h over the speed limit and had his new car impounded.
The enthusiastic driver filmed himself on a mobile phone while travelling at more than double the speed limit along Aughtie Drive, part of Melbourne’s Grand Prix Circuit.
I’m guessing he thought the police never, ever look at social media. But they didn’t have to, since they caught him in person.
Forget the Colonel’s eleven herbs and spices. This stuff supposedly tastes like the inside of Toru Hagakure’s socks:
At first glance, the menu at Japanese takeout chain Tenka Torimasu looks incredibly simple. They serve karaage (Japanese-style fried chicken), karaage bento boxed lunches with rice, cabbage, and potato salad, and that’s all. But there’s a hidden depth of variety at Tenka Torimasu, because of how many different flavors of fried chicken they offer.
Want teriyaki fried chicken? No problem. Neither are curry, wasabi, sweet chili, ponzu, or plum. And as this month, you can also try girls’ sole flavor.
Just to make that clear, that’s not “girls’ soul” or any other representation of the concept of youthful femininity, but “girls’ sole,” as in “this fried chicken tastes like the bottom of a young woman’s foot.”
Definitely don’t get the extra crispy.
It’s been almost a quarter-century since I was thirty-nine, same age as hometown homie Jack Benny, but I remember spending a lot of time thinking about being forty. So I can still appreciate this observation by Shailaja V:
When I make up my mind to learn something, I go all in. It’s almost as if this ‘learning demon’ possesses me and I fill myself to the brim with everything possible. Don’t worry, it’s a harmless creature.
I am not known for going all in. Still, at the age of 42 I got this insane idea that I ought to have my own little section of the World Wide Web, which barely existed the year I was 39. And, demonically enough, I still have it.
“That song isn’t mine anymore,” said Trent Reznor after hearing Johnny Cash’s cover of the Nine Inch Nails song “Hurt.”
Wonder what he might have thought of this?