Following the Not Guilty verdict pronounced in the trial of Casey Anthony, there has been much speculation about what comes next for the 25-year-old ex-mother from Florida.  Citing her lack of higher education, questionable choice in men, indeterminate ability to problem solve and frankly dubious parenting skills, one would be right to wonder what she might have to offer in the free market.  Given that she will, in all likelihood, be returning to the mainstream in just a few short days, one can only ask, what will she be doing with herself?

This reporter talked to Casey through the bars of her holding cell from the bushes outside the minimum-security facility in Orlando to find out.

“I’ve always been interested in starting my own business,” Ms. Anthony said, “and I think given the way the trial went, I may have found my calling.”

There can be no doubt that her singular ability to make a child disappear (while avoiding conviction, an important point) might find some niche in the world of teenage mothers and unwanted pregnancies.  “I’ve thought about it a lot since my non-conviction,” she continued, thirty minutes after her non-conviction, “and if I could do it once – for a kid that they actually had reason to suspect me for – why not another kid I had no connection with?  With the right capital and resources, I could start disposing of unwanted children all over the state – maybe even the country.”  Bold words, indeed!

This reporter was intrigued.  Could a business revolving around the disposal of children actually be viable?

“You’d be surprised,” Casey replied nonchalantly.  “I’ve had calls already from friends of mine and desperate mothers across the country that want to know how I got away with it.  But here’s the way I look at it: If you’re good at something, never do it for free.  My preliminary research shows that I can charge at least $2000 for my services – that’s for the basic package, by the way – and I can easily handle no less than three cases a week.”

The basic package includes dropping the body (Casey prefers the term “package”) in an out-of-the-way area where it will remain unfound and undiscovered for at least four months, plenty of time for all evidence to be wiped out by the elements.  During this time, Casey encourages her prospective clients to “act upset”.  “It would have made things a LOT easier for me in my own experience, but you live and learn,” she noted.  Of course, the deluxe package includes the framing of family members and innocent passersby, while the premium package also includes sending a legal team to discredit local law enforcement.  Prices available upon request.

Will she succeed?  Only time will tell.  But with the unbridled passion of her youth, her heart of stone, and let’s not forget her simply diabolical ability to lie on the spot and stick to it, one can only imagine that the sky is the limit for this young entrepreneur.  Casey’s story reminds this reporter that there is still ingenuity out there, and shows us all that if you have the drive, the desire, and the unmitigated ability to turn your back on all that’s human and decent, you can definitely carve out a niche for yourself in the world of business.

**Author’s note: While I never actually spoke to Ms. Anthony, I feel sure that if I had it probably might have happened exactly like this.  Incidentally, it turns out she will be released into the wild on my birthday.  Best present ever!

Bin Laden’s theory that couponing could be used as an offset, suggests that their organization may be in worse shape than the Johnson family’s budget this past month.  Like al Qaeda, the Johnson’s cash flow has come to a halt since they were both laid off last year.  ”Couponing was the best option.  See that chair you’re sitting on? Got it for free with a box of Special K, you know with the berries,” explained Bill Johnson.

“There are clearly times for them when money is tight,” said Rep. C.A. Dutch Ruppersberger of Maryland, the top Democrat on the House Intelligence Committee. “We’ve seen that their funding has been less dependable and we’re seeing them turn to couponing as a way of keeping the money in.”

Experts from the CIA’s National Counterterrorism Center, the Treasury Department and Managers from Pakistan’s only Wal-Mart are trying to learn more from the recovered files, specifically receipts that reveal more about their financial situation and what kind of discount DVDs they prefer.

“While couponing has been popular for years, recently, shows like ‘Extreme Couponing’ have dangerously glamorized huge savings on television and in this case, clearly influenced and helped a terrorist organization stay afloat,” explained one of Secretary Hilary Clinton’s aides. “To keep America safe, we must take that show off the air.”

In fairness, there’s nothing particularly new about “Super 8″.  Strange phenomena, military coverup, aliens, terror in a sleepy town; we’ve seen these before, and probably seen them done better (though not all at once).  What makes “8″ memorable, however, is that instead of experiencing the unfolding events through the eyes of Joe “the Hammer” Smith, local badass soldier trying to live out his life in relative quiet after retiring early from the force whose combat prowess is only matched by his ability to walk nonchalantly away from the burning alien spaceship he just shot down (winning the girl in the process), or Eric “Fingers” McGee, the lonely but lovable computer hacker whose keen eye for pattern and programming exposes the hole in the alien defense and reduces them to sitting ducks (winning him the girl in the process), or even Jenny “Legs” Fortenberry, the stripper with a heart of gold whose fierce devotion to her family leads her to protect her town against the invading forces (winning her the girl in the process…. er, yeah), we have Joe Lamb, an awkward tweenager (I just died a little from writing that word; incidentally, spellcheck recognized it as a word – wtf) who builds models and somehow is an expert on cinematic makeup at the age of 13, whose blind luck and open mind allow him to stand by while an alien wreaks hell on a town.  Oh, and he wins the girl in the process.  Ya gotta stick with what works.

This is what 90% of this kid's lines were.

The rugrats make the movie, though.  Instead of forming cliched plots with town leaders to fortify defenses and assemble a makeshift force to fight off an invasion, the kids want to use the site of the military coverup as a backdrop to a film project.  Instead of being called on by the government for their inimitable skills, the kids break into a school to research their teacher (a retired military man linked mysteriously to the events).  Instead of walking coolly up to the alien and shooting it in the face with lots and lots of bullets or plasma, the kids create a distraction using a bunch of black-cat fireworks and run like hell.  Their naive charm keeps you laughing and their dialogue, which, in fairness, grates on the ears like, well, a cheese grater, is absolutely, 100% spot-on realistic and hilarious.  Example: Teen A: “There’s a window up there, break it out!”  Teen B:  “God, why don’t you??”  (Alien splatters a nearby soldier in horrific fashion.  Teen C vomits copiously.)  It sounds to me exactly like conversations I had every day when I was 13 years old, and in that way qualifies itself as some of the most unpretentious screenwriting out there.

Bwaaa, aliens! Or something. Actually, I don't know what this is.

The movie also has fantastic pacing, evidenced by the excellent slow-burn reveal on the alien.  In classic “Jaws” fashion, the alien is not seen at all in the first thirty minutes of the film, seen only out of the corner of the eye for the next thirty, and is finally revealed by varying degrees as it dispatches unsuspecting humans one by one in the last hour, being seen fully only when it finally catches up to our young hero in its lair below the city.  There are a few cheap scares – an inevitability in our age of “gotcha” scary movies – but they are few and the film does not depend on them to move forward.  I would even argue that they are well done, often truly coming out of nowhere and actually scaring the hell out of you.  And the alien itself is not a letdown either, falling somewhere between a “Signs” cop-out mostly human person-sized terror and an over-the-top “Cloverfield” monstrosity.  Drawing that comparison, I realize that in this respect, as with so many others, “Super 8″ is like the Goldilocks of alien movies: not too much or too little, but pretty much just right.  The ending falls a bit flat, but if you’re able to suspend your disbelief about everything else that the alien can do, I suppose Abrams earns a little bit of a pass for the last five minutes.

I could go on about the movie.  The train wreck sequence is nothing short of spectacular and terrifying; the young actors take it a step further with their panicked, pants-shitting reactions.   Watching suburbia explode into a war zone late in the film is one of the most impressive things I’ve seen in film since James Cameron sank a replica of the Titanic (by the way, if you’re planning to see the re-release of Titanic in 3-d, kill yourself.  Also by the way, this film was NOT released in 3-d, earning it bonus points in my book).  Again, the kids are there, screaming and panicking.  And hilarious.  When you consider the kind of stuff this movie is competing against this summer – ANOTHER pirate movie, ANOTHER xmen movie, ANOTHER superhero movie… “Super 8″ is at least a fresh take on an old formula, and not just the same old formula again.

Go give these guys some of your money. Really. They need it.

Teaming up with various artists like Akon, lil Wayne, and Snoop, this track has the potential to debut at #1 on the Billboard charts.

With obvious doubts about his leadership and rapping ability, he decided to drop some lyrics, or as he says, “spit that hot fire” during a live broadcast on state TV:

“I am now speaking as planes and bombs fall around me,” Gadhafi spit. “But my soul is in God’s hand. We will not think about death or life. We will think about the call of duty.” (Kanye would be jealous.)

“His lyrics have an interesting symbolism as both a call to action and popular video game… we cannot overlook the dichotomy of his words and the speed at which he said them.  He could give Busta Rhymes a run for his money,” said secretary of state Hilary Clinton, in response to the broadcast.

After the NATO attacks subside, Gaddafi plans to get back into the studio, record several more tracks and approach some big names in the music industry to go on tour this summer.  He wants to bring his music to the people, as they have always been the focus of everything he does.

We then contacted the congressman’s people to verify if this was ordered by him – there’s been lots of hang-ups and no comment.  What we’re sure of thus far though, is that we didn’t order it for him.  Well, when I say we, I know Doug, Pierce and Buck didn’t do it.  Should an intern we hired, possibly ventured to an adult sex toy website, and sent it – we wouldn’t know anything about it.

Additional evidence surfaced yesterday, when we saw a suspicious user review of the product, which we believe could have been written by the congressman shortly after use.  We should note that this review was written in “2008″, by a “woman” – we aren’t dumb enough to believe that.

See what you think:

“Weiner’s” Review of the Chocolate Penis-mold kit:

I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but I expected it to be at least a bit workable. We are going to attempt this again in the future, but I’m not holding my breath.

Required equipment that is not part of the kit includes: duct tape, a very sharp cutting utensil, water, one large bowl and one medium bowl that is microwave safe, if you can get that far. Oh yes, you also need a penis.

First we washed the penis, which was fun, then we went to cut the tube.

To cut the tube to size you have to put the sealed end against the skin, and mark it “at the end of the willy” the instructions say, I gave him about 1/8” more, so he wouldn’t be bumping the tip of his penis against the back of the tube. Then he took out a box-cutter and spent a goodly amount of time cutting the thick plastic… this is not easy. I taped it up so the edges wouldn’t hurt him.

The kit comes with a thermometer, which you need for the water and the chocolate. We warmed up the water to 98 degrees, and after making sure he was fully erect, as you only have two minutes to mix the gel and get it in the tube and get the penis in the tube.

This is where our problem occurred. The gel smells like plaster and stayed VERY lumpy and looked like congealed oatmeal soup. My man was standing there staring at this as he played with himself and I attempted to mix it as much as possible… a very difficult task indeed, as it was already hardening. Perhaps the kit would benefit from some sort of thick-necked funnel, because I got a goodly amount of gel into the sink while pouring. I tell him it’s ready, but we have a problem. After watching all this, he has lost his erection. I would too, thinking about my junk going in that crud. I tried helping him out as quickly as possible, and within about thirty seconds, we were ready. Problem is, we had used up almost all of our two minutes, and by the time he put the tube to his penis, there was no way he could push into the already half-hardened “gel.”

So we did not obtain a chocolate penis. The two minute time limit (and it took me about 1 ½ minutes just to mix’n'pour) and its appearance, which is the most unsexy thing imaginable worked against us. This is a fun, fantastic idea, but in reality the instructions were very hard to accomplish and so I doubt I’ll be buying any more Clone-A-Willy’s in the future… it’s just too difficult for me. And it gives me an excuse to keep the real thing around the house. They provide a website to obtain more gel ($5.95 before shipping) so hopefully we will try again… but I’m not that optimistic.

I’ll never crowd source opinions again for fun sexual toys!

In a world where Social Media can spread news so quickly, it’s surprising that he could be so careless with his private affairs.  I’m sure the congressman would rather spend his time helping constituents, rather than deflect the mainstream media’s probing eye into his wiener… real, chocolate or whatever.

Not to be out done, Face from the popular 80′s show “The A-Team” also announced he was running, once he heard about Santorum.

An excerpt from his statement this morning:

“Shit, if Santorum can run I can too!  I’m just as qualified.  Let’s see, I was on Television, had sex with a lot of fine ladies back in the day, was excellent at helping make a plan come together, I’m a team player AND extremely conservative with my red meat intake.  What more do you need to be President?”

As more players enter the 2012 Presidential race I can only think this helps secure Obama’s reelection.

Prelude
My wife has been a big fan of Lady Gaga since her debut.  Admittedly, I find her music very listenable, but forgettable.  She’s techno Madonna, or as my mother pointed out, a bit of a Bette Midler thing.  Outside of the comparison, I think Gaga is a clever gal by wrapping some social meaning into her catchy pop music, that may subversively teach those who are intolerant of others, little by little, to rise above their own bigotry, wrapped in a bacon-y, 3/4 techno beat.

I may be giving her far too much credit.

Regardless, I think her message is positive and she’s extremely smart about how she markets herself, oh and she has the egg, holy fuck I want to rise out of an egg.

Egg!

Pre-show:
The concert began almost 2 hours after we arrived, so we had some time to kill.  We caught some of the opening act about 20 minutes in and from what I could tell, were trying to be ‘The Killers’ as vampire transvestites, screaming the last few lyrics as they finished their set.  (note:  I now want to start a band called Vampire Transvestite, only using Kazoos and death-metal vocals.)

Having an hour plus to soak in the environment [before she came on stage] I was actually really happy for her fans.  These people were thrilled to be in costume, letting it all hang out.  It’s like a homecoming for them, a place to be expressive, free and most importantly… no judgment.  The costuming was intense, from scarcely covered breasts and man-junk, to a guy who glued chunks of a mirror to his bald head, completing his disco-Steiner bros. wrestling costume.  The whole time I thought the Gaga fans need to team up with Dragon*Con nerds immediately!  That convention would be a hippy-nerd-gay-utopia of awesome.

The Show!
When the show finally started, the fans went crazy.  I was relieved to finally hear music, as the woman sitting next to me with her 3 young children were driving me nuts.  (She had a 6, 8, and 10 year old there.)  So, when Gaga asked Atlanta to “WHIP YOUR COCKS OUT!” …I pretended her kids believed it was a request for poultry.

Her sets and costuming were something out of a Broadway musical, extremely well-built and produced.  I wondered why she didn’t travel with her sets everywhere she went.  Finally, you’d understand why she was dressed like a raven at the MTV Music Awards – she could have her scary forest set following up behind her to accept an award onstage.  Or, when she’s at Costco buying bulk paper towel – wearing a firework machine-gun bra, it’s because she has a giant tentacle monster chasing after her.

Her singing was redonkulous.  Giving herself a bit of a pat-on-the-back, Lady G. mentioned that she would never lip-sync, as she couldn’t do that to her fans, “unlike other pop stars.”

Coolest Part of the Show
By far, the best part of the show, were the interstitial movies they projected on a screen between set changes.  A curved, opaque drape would descend from the ceiling and dark house music would play, while projecting these bizarre short films.  Two that really stuck out in my head:  a Film Noir “Metropolis” deal, which I thought was superbly done …lots of motion graphics and dark shadowy figures; the other was unintentionally hilarious.  Gaga, dressed in a white Marilyn Monroe-esque dress, stoically stood in front of the camera posing, when out of nowhere a young woman appears next to her, admiring her.  The editing would jump in space and time periodically, making it disjointed visually; all of a sudden, green listerine vomits out of the young girl’s mouth at 1000 frames per second, slowly splashing all over Gaga, then reversing several times.  Lots of groans from the audience; I was the only person laughing.

Preaching & Fin
After most songs, Gaga would have a bit of a preaching session discussing issues that were important to her and fans: Individuality, God, Love, Acceptance, you get the drift.  (If you watched her concert special on HBO, that was filmed at Madison Square Garden, you wouldn’t have seen too much of that.  Both the interstitials and most of the preaching were cut.)  At times, she would go off on tangents that made me feel out of place, like the few times I attended church with friends when I was younger, …hey, it was awkward for a Jew. It was hard to feel some of her message because I hadn’t been through the same experiences as a lot of her fans.  I was bullied as a kid, so I empathize some of it, but it was an odd feeling.  Most of those around me seemed to really connect with her.

Although I went into the concert skeptical of how I’d like it, overall – it was a solid concert.  Next show I attend should be dumb as shit. I hear Bone Thugs ‘N Harmony is coming to town.  Mo murder!

This is in direct contradiction to the prophecies proclaimed by Harold Camping and his entirely reasonable and rational brainwashed followers.   They said in no uncertain terms that come 6 PM local time, everybody would either be dead, raptured, or suffering for about five months in the fallout from a worldwide earthquake.  Many would view the fact that all of this completely and utterly failed to happen as a universally good thing, but I don’t.

First of all, in preparation for the apocalypse, I quit my job and used all my savings to buy canned beans and franks to sustain myself over the next several months, in case I was not among the chosen to ascend to heaven in the rapture.  I bought about 10,000 cans of each and about 30,000 gallons of bottled water.  They’re sitting in my driveway on a bunch of pallets and, I have to tell you, I don’t think my homeowner’s association is going to be happy about it.  They’re a goddamned eyesore.  I wasn’t able to get my doomsday bunker finished so I don’t know where I’m going to put all that shit, and I don’t think you can return that much product; wholesalers tend to get pissy when you try to renege on thousands of dollars and two tractor-trailers worth of perishables.  Needless to say, I’m going to have to get up pretty damn early on Monday and start making some phone calls.

Also, I’m going to have to go back on my diet.  When I first learned that it was all over, I basically threw health and good sense out the window – after all, what’s the difference if there will be nobody around to impress.  I’ve been living on twinkies, milkshakes and Big Macs for the past two months, mostly for the pure unadulterated hell of it.  Unfortunately, my ecstatic gluttonous spree has not been friendly to my waistline.  I’ve gone from a 34 up to a 46 waist in just two months; impressive medically but according to most of my consulting physicians not the sort of thing I should be proud of or, in fact, alive after.

Finally and perhaps most importantly, I have before me a series of uncomfortable talks with people whom I told, in one form or another, to fuck off.  Counting on the sort of closure that can only be delivered by the sudden and cataclysmic destruction of all things that breathe to absolve me, I thought it would be a good idea to clean the slate and go into whatever afterlife there may be with a clear conscience.  Let me address a few of the comments I made here to lessen the blow, and or the blows that will be visited upon me.

To my friend Jeff: you’re really not that much of a jerk.  While I stand by my assessment of your character regarding the twenty bucks you borrowed and have not yet paid back, the failure of the world to end has put into perspective the relative insignificance of the sum.  In light of my comments, keep the $20 and we can call it even.

To my mother-in-law: actually I love your homemade carrot cake, the only reason I said it tasted like the underside of a homeless person’s foot was because your daughter bet me that I couldn’t offend you in ten words or less.  Also, it doesn’t bother me in the least that you drop by and call all the time, even when you have nothing to say.  I said so simply trying to save you money on gas and phone bills, since those are things that are going to matter now that the world isn’t over.

To my boss: the truth is I find your managerial style very effective and I actually think you pay me very well.  The message you got was a prank I intended for somebody else.  Please let me have my job back.

To Candy in Atlantic City: I dialed the wrong number when I called you.  Sorry for the inconvenience.  I don’t even know anybody named Candy, and I definitely don’t love you instead of my wife.  I won’t be looking for you or for little Jerry at my home anytime soon, please don’t call or visit.

To my wife: I thought that with the end of all things at hand, it would be easier for you to leave this mortal coil without attachments.  That’s why I told you I had an affair when I went on that trip to Atlantic City three years ago and that she now has a lovely two-year-old.  I assure you, she doesn’t, and they will NEVER call or try to visit us.  Incidentally, in light of the world not ending, I think it might be appropriate for us to get new phone numbers and move, perhaps across the country.  Please come home.  I promise I will have the pallets of cans and water moved by the end of the week.

To Harold Camping: I should’ve known better after you screwed this up the first time around in 1994.  I think it’s safe to say you owe me $40,000 for the supplies I bought and compensation for the job I quit.  Maybe next time, you’ll find a prophecy in your Alpha-Bits, it’s likely to be as accurate, if not more, than what you cobbled together for today.  In the meantime, feel free to have your own apocalypse in your own home, on your own time.  And for god’s sake take down those billboards.  The aliens who are ACTUALLY planning our fiery deaths are laughing their asses off.

It’s not a glamorous position, by any stretch. Not even close. On a list of glamorous jobs, it ranks somewhere below “Sewer Maintenance Worker” and yet somehow still above “Politician”. The reason? The argument can be made (with a straight face) that I’m at least working to improve the future of the country.

You may have heard educators say that the biggest reason to work in the field is the satisfaction you get from touching the minds of the future. I’m here to tell you that, while this is not an out-and-out falsity, it is the lie we tell ourselves daily to keep ourselves coming in. Sure, we reach young minds. With a success rate of about 10%. In my current position I have about fifty students, and I can count on one hand the students in whose lives I’ve had any sort of effect.   To put this in perspective, I once worked two days selling bullshit products door-to-door. If you didn’t have a successful sell rate of 10%, you were redflagged and could eventually be terminated. That’s a job where you go in expecting to have a door slammed in your face.

And I’m damn sure not in the field for the money. If you need a dissertation on how much teachers make, consult with your nearest hot-dog stand vendor about how much he makes. He’s got it good, and probably tax-free.

Let’s not forget that it’s not for the working conditions, either. The system is riddled with ineptitude. Leaving out the kids entirely, if public schools were a business entity they would have gone bankrupt within minutes of opening their doors. Contradictory edicts follow on inane protocols and are then entirely eclipsed by brain-bending doublespeak. It’s not so much that the right hand doesn’t know what the left is doing, it’s more that the right hand is pinned to a table with no anesthetic while the left hand has been amputated, soaked in brine, taken out, reanimated and is now waving jauntily and insisting that everything is fine. Meanwhile, fire ants are swarming the right hand and parents are calling for it to be fired. If you were having trouble following the metaphor, the right hand is teachers.

With all this going against it, why teach? Well, for the morbidly curious, fatalistic ones of us out there, there is a very specific… benefit is the wrong word, I’m going to say, rather… well, upside isn’t the right word either. What it really is is a slightly less dark spot. Anyway, what the job does afford, probably more than any other, is an unadulterated look at the future. Make no mistake, the idiots I work with all day are going to be running things in about twenty-five years. If that isn’t enough to send you screaming to Canada, I don’t know what is.

So, get ready for some 100% true, enhanced only moderately for effect, stories from the frontlines; make no mistake, public schools are a war zone. Names will obviously be changed to protect the idiotic, and, incidentally, my job. Wear a cup.

Late night reports claimed Osama Bin Laden was killed in a planned U.S. mission.  The President delivered the message around 11:30pm EST.  Obama explained, he approved a mission earlier in the week, based on current intel, which took place on Sunday.  A team of Navy Seals carried out the mission against a mansion in Pakistan, where they found and killed Osama Bin Laden.  Upon hearing the news, I immediately said to my wife, “Obama was just re-elected.”

Killing the symbolic face of terror is a huge success for the country, and the President, as tough economic and political issues continue to plague America.

The already fractured field of GOP candidates looks weaker than ever, in light of this military success.  Many republican pundits suggest the only team that could defeat Obama in the coming election is the Palin/Bieber ticket.

“She’s got the lady vote locked up,” says former House Speaker, Newt Gingrich – “All she needs is the youth vote; what do young peeps like? Fuckin’ Bieber bro!”

We sat down with the former Congressmen to gain more insight.  ”Obama had some weakness before, now it’s almost locked up.  All I know is, if we had a kid with a billion fans, we’re gunna win.  …Usher taught him how to dance.”

We tried to explain that Bieber didn’t qualify to run for the VP spot due to age, but Newt was dismissive.  ”The GOP war chest was depleated for 1 reason, time travel research.  We’ve got a male-pattern baldness Bieber [in the east wing of my house], from the future, just waiting for his chance.  Once he ‘removes’ the current Bieber from this time thread, we’re all set.  Palin will finally have the chance she deserves…”

No idea what this chart represents.

As you can see from the chart above, the potential celebrity power of Bieber / Palin could overtake Obama, reaching the number 150′ish, if they ran together.  Their combined lack of experience and education in politics, the Constitution, gravity and all things common sense, could sway voters away from Obama.

I’d be okay if the Donald worked with Bieber too.