Who gives a shit about National Bubble Bath Day? We don't. National Take Your Grand Kid Out to Lunch Day? Fuck that, and your grand kid, too. For the really fun days, the ones that nobody else has the imagination to celebrate, days like National Ain't Woke, Do Not Disturb Day℠, National Ignore the Ban on Plastic Straws Day℠, and others visit . . . The Book of Daze℠.
Your Virtual GanjaScope
A half-century's worth of smoking pot/hash/shatter/live resin carts has led us to conclude that horoscopes are more fun and more accurate when you're stoned...and they're even better when the person who wrote them was stoned, too. If you're looking to turn over a new leaf, visit GanjaScope.
The Grammar Prick
Meaner than a 250-pound lesbian Language Arts teacher, The Grammar Prick will split your head if you split an infinitive, dangle a participle, or dare to misuse penultimate. Visit The Grammar Prick.
There's a Saint for That
There's a saint in every pot, and a prayer card for every condition. Just tell us where it hurts you, and we'll tell you whom to call and where to send your donations. Let us pray.
Here's to a Brighter Day
Brights neither seek nor accept any supernatural "explanations" for life. If that sounds like a bright idea to you, click here.
Trigger warning! The content of this website may cause raging panic attacks in hypersensitive snowflakes who suffer from androphobia, galactophobia, emetophobia, corprophobia, claustrophobia, fear of taints, and other psycho-sexual maladies too numerous to mention.
Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin Gone and Forgotten Sep 3, 2011 - 4:49
PHILADELPHIA - Five years ago tomorrow Steve Irwin, better known as the crocodile hunter, died as he had lived: messing with a dangerous critter with whom he had no business messing. This time it was a bull stingray, who was minding his own business in waters near the Great Barrier Reef when the Billy Mays of conservationists came barging along.
Quicker than you could say "crickey"—which Mr. Irwin said until he got on everyone's last nerve—the stingray had rammed its serrated barb into Mr. Irwin's overeager heart. "C'est la vie, say the old folks. It goes to show you never can tell."
Around the world‐from deserts to jungles to rain forests‐wildlife could breathe a sigh of relief. That loud-mouthed wanker in the khaki shorts wouldn't be crashing their parties any more.
In the months following Mr. Irwin's timely death, his legacy appeared secure. Thousands attended memorial services in his honor, and soon there were reports that several Steve Irwin impersonators had perished while stingray gigging, snake taunting, or alligator wrestling. Mr. Irwin's daughter Bindi, then 8, launched a singing career; her brother Bob, then 2, hired an agent; and their mother, Terri, then 42, started work on a successful memoir entitled My Steve.
By the second anniversary of Mr. Irwin's passing, however, the tide had gone out. Internet auction sites were overstocked with Steve Irwin official safari pants, Steve Irwin personal-size port-o-potties, and Steve Irwin alligator jerky. My Steve was slipping down the charts, and fewer people were wearing khaki shorts on Steve Irwin Day, celebreated each year on November 15.
Nevertheless, the Animal Planet is still pimping Mr. Irwin's legend and recycling his television shows lest we forget his irritating, unhinged mannerisms, his goofy yob face, and his zeal for knocking on doors without being invited.
All that, as Grace Slick observed in another context, "Doesn't mean shit to a toad." Mr. Irwin's legacy will ultimately perch on Elseya irwini, the turtle Mr. Irwin discovered.
How fitting! A creature that is able to breathe out its ass underwater is named after a guy who talked out his ass all the time. From Mr. Irwin's butt to god's ear, eh fellow Christians.
Some photos cannot be shopped. They are perfect just the way god made them. Such perfection does not happen by accident, and wise, indeed, is the man who says "you can't photoshop this."
The Pug Bus Interview
Enjoy the interviews nobody else has the sack to do. We aren't afraid to stop totally at the surface, because no matter how beautiful a person might be on the inside, you've still got to look at him or her when you're speaking to 'em..Read on.