…a Hungarian designer has created a concept for a bicycle helmet with three safety features that no car would ever come without: a headlight, a taillight, and turn signals.
The food, along with other merchandise stolen in exchange for drugs, can also be fenced. Clark said digestion takes care of the rest.
“How do you dispute someone who’s holding a T-bone?” he said. “Once they grill that steak up and eat it, the evidence is gone.”
“It’s sad that you’ve got to stoop that low to go in the grocery and steal a steak that’s only $5,” said Diane Applin of Springfield. “But (drug addicts) are really smart people. They just sit all day and dream of ways to steal for money.”
(via The Dayton Daily News)
I don’t watch a lot of football, but it sure seemed as if a lot of players’ helmets were falling off during the Super Bowl. Isn’t there some kind of pro athletic head glue they should be using?
Beyonce did a pretty good job at half time, considering she had twins just three or four days ago. She did not wear a helmet, per se.
The Voice has obtained hundreds of new renderings of Scientology’s Super Power Building in Clearwater, Florida, as well as a comprehensive collection of its architectural drawings.
Every Scientology “org” is supposed to create an office for Hubbard, even 26 years after his death, in case the “old man” suddenly returns.
(via The Village Voice)
From a letter penned in 1993 by my friend Lee, who can now scarcely find words at all.
Steve & I saw Indochine last night. Horrors! I’ve lost the ability to sit still that long even for La Deneuve. When I left the movie I was saying to Steve that it was remarkable how they handled the time in the movie and this blah blah metaphor for the blah blah relationship between France and Indochina and how leaving the Japs out compressed the blah blah and effectively blah blah. This morning I woke up still thinking about it — or seeing it, really — and there on the screen of my mind was the word SONY. No wonder they left out the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere. Well, I loved it anyway. A French Gone with the Wind. [April 1993]
You know some people talk about being abducted by aliens. I won’t say I have been, but I’ll tell you this much. When I was little, I dreamed I was falling asleep and just as I was nodding off, I felt a weight settle on the bed at my feet. I looked down to see a cat-eyed, long-limbed creature crawling up my legs toward my face. I screamed out, Daddy came. We didn’t have a cat at the time.
In a motel in a northern suburb of Denver, working retail for a couple of weeks a few years ago, I was awakened by something yanking me completely out of the bed by the big toe. I awoke drenched in sweat and in the same position I fell asleep.
Lately when napping, I’ve felt the bed settle, as if a weight lands near my feet, as if a cat has jumped on the bed. I look to find nothing there.
Miracle Jones, the pearl of Texas, tosses a Bruce Lee poem to the youtube gods…
Jus’ askin’. And riskin’ my life with apostrophes. (Cindy?) Chime in, y’all.