If this one little incident doesn’t tell us everything we need to know about “journalism” today, we’re just not paying attention.
Some poor guy takes 12,000 Jenga blocks, and who knows how many hours, to create a detailed replica of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. He’s excited because he’s set a world’s record and the Guinness people are coming to confirm it.
But first comes the… reporter. Who of course winds up destroying what he was supposed to cover.
Certainly one of the most horrifying videos I’ve ever seen.
Yes, I know, the libs will jump all over it. “See? See? We toldja he was crazy!” But as Lou Costello once said, I saw what I saw when I saw it–and I don’t care what a bunch of leftids think. They believe in much more ridiculous things than the occasional pterodactyl. I prefer not to mention any of them here.
P.S.–Don’t forget out cyber-Christmas party! All are welcome! Bring imaginary snacks and board games and party fixin’s. We’re going to have a blast!
I’m sure they would’ve gotten in just as much trouble if they had predicted an earthquake and it never happened–town evacuated, looters have a field day. etc.
This is what happens when your country, like Italy, sets up a National Commission for the Forecast and Prevention of Major Risks. Once you’ve got the plebs paying you to play God, you find out it’s not such an easy gig!
But you’re stuck with it, sunshine–because that’s humanist ideology: with The Smartest People In The World in charge of everything, nothing can ever go wrong! Unless, of course, some bad egg doesn’t do his job, or actively subverts Incredibly Smart Policies.
Really, I don’t think there’s any city block in Western Europe where they really have to worry about coming off as “too Christian.” Do these people not understand that “Star Wars” is a movie–something that someone made up?
But then we have a church where the pastor wears a Spider Man costume, so I guess we’re not that much better off.
Hot dog: man marries inanimate object. He insists he had a courtship with it, proposed to it last December, and has “married” it in a full-blown bogus “wedding” ceremony.
What was the inanimate object going to… say? “No, sorry, sunshine, but I just can’t marry you. My heart belongs to someone else!” Only it doesn’t have a heart, because it is not a living thing of any kind, let alone a human woman.
Sort of like “marrying” your toaster-oven.
They used to cart you off to the rubber room for doing stuff like this. Now they celebrate it.
Still think we can get by all right without a Savior?
The police took the parrot’s re-enactment seriously and the woman was convicted. But Bud’s testimony wasn’t used in court, they had to find other evidence–which they did.
Well, how could the judge allow a parrot to take the witness stand? Really–do you swear him in? Does the defense get to cross-examine? Any risk of perjury? No, no, the judge just couldn’t see his way to allowing it. Nevertheless, the parrot did play a key role in the investigation.
Now I wonder how many parrots voted Democrat in this year’s presidential election.
If I only knew how to work our YouTube channel, I’d be famous already! But I have spoken with someone at the Popsicle company, and he said they might want to use my fantastic story in their publicity. It seems celebrity is just around the corner.
Popsicle Fruit Pops have these little riddles printed on the popsicle sticks. And my riddle the other day was, “What did the author say about his novel when it was finished?”
What’s so fantastic about that?
Well, I am an author and on that very day, I finished writing a novel. And there it was, all on a popsicle stick. Who can even imagine the odds against that happening? Kazillions to one? I wonder what I could get on e-Bay for this popsicle stick?
I will try not to let fame go to my head. I’m already dizzy enough from contemplating this exceedingly weird coincidence.
Working at a furious pace, I finished writing Behold! yesterday, just before the weather turned nasty. Yup, got it all done.
So that night I sat down to relax with a popsicle. As you can see above, they print riddles on the popsicle sticks. You have to eat the popsicle to see the answer. But for me–for this guy who had just that day finished writing a book–get a load of this question:
“What did the author say about his novel when it was finished?” (Answer: “It’s a complete mystery.”)
Whoa! How did this happen? Is that a bodacious coincidence or what? How unlikely was it that this particular popsicle stick would wind up in my hands on that particular day?
I wonder if I ought to write to the Popsicle Company. It might make a good commercial. Can I ask for Denzel Washington to play me?