Cost (in dollars) of Wars in Iraq & Afghanistan
Ray Lewis and
Modell, pieces of shining silver
It’s been much too long between Super Bowls for bible-babbling Baltimore
Ravens linebacker Ray Lewis. It’s tragic, criminal, much as Ray-Ray
himself is tragic and criminal. . . .
But Art will never know because, alas, Art is dead.
Reason to Celebrate!
why President Obama attracts flies
By Mickey Sartre, News
Lampoon cub reporter
Obama has been raising eyebrows, or are they "fly-brows"? Whichever
term you use, the president has been raising his in an effort to shoo away
the pesky insects that have
long plagued him.
The most recent fly
sighting was Jan. 24 as the president announced the appointment of two new
members to his administration. The fly landed squarely on the president’s
The official White House
transcript describing the incident reads: "This guy is bothering me here -
(swatting at a fly.)"
Many are searching for
explanations, but they are as elusive as the flies themselves.
Read more 'Fly-gate'
Invisible Killer Rays
By Mickey Sartre, News Lampoon cub reporter
According to recent news
stories, Wi-Fi rays are killing my sperm, but my cell phone will not
give me brain cancer anymore, though if I put it in my front pants pocket,
it too will kill my sperm. I don’t believe it, the part about cell
phones no longer causing brain cancer. Someday soon a scientific study
will put cell phones back on the cancer-causer list, and if not, then what
about my cordless phone?
What happens when I’m
standing in front of my microwave oven impatiently listening to those final
intermittent kernels of popcorn pop? I’m not sure I want to know.
And what about the alpha and gamma and other rays, all those invisible
speeding particles from outer space bombarding us every second, minute,
hour, every day of our lives, even while we’re sleeping? What about
power lines? Head phones?
The stuff emanating from my
Wi-Fi station is not rays, it’s more like waves, I think, but who cares?
I know the radiation from power lines is more like fields, not rays,
but does that make me feel one iota better? A lot of bad things
happen in fields.
These days, by comparison,
good old-fashioned ultraviolet-, infrared-, and x-rays seem about as
sinister as the ingredients in a warm cup of Mom’s homemade chicken soup.
Slather on some sunscreen, wear a lead bib, and you’ll probably escape with
What about “Dark Energy”?
That what we see is less than three thousandths of a percent of what’s
really there? And the rest is this . . . Dark Energy.
What’s that doing to us?
Physicists claim there are
other dimensions, other worlds made of infinitesimally small vibrating
“strings” that somehow occupy the same “space” we’re occupying. We
just can’t see them. What about that?
What kind of weird rays and
stealth shit are the men and women wearing white lab coats and employed by
the government and corporations like General Dynamics concocting right now?
Remember the neutron bomb? The one that would kill every living thing
but leave all the buildings intact? What kind of “bomb” is that?
Sounds like rays or waves or fields to me.
Everywhere I go they have
Wi-Fi: at work, at McDonald’s, Starbuck’s, most chain bookstores. It’s
inescapable. We’re immersed in an ocean of invisible, sperm-killing
waves and fields and rays. I feel like the old fish who swims by two
young fish and as he passes them says, “The water’s nice today, ain’t it,
boys?” and the young fish look at each other and say, “Water?” Most of
us are oblivious of being steeped in this sinister energy, shot through with
these radioactive particles and rays. It’s a wonder we’re not on fire.
Communication towers spike
the landscape; power lines form a “grid.” People with cell phones
attached to their heads “surf” on laptops. You can try to escape, but
your “smart phone” or “On Star” (or whatever device some nameless “tech” has
installed in your vehicle, perhaps without your knowledge) will give you
away. You will be found.
It’s Invasion of the Body
Smoke, smog, tornadoes,
drug-addled knife- and gun-wielding criminals, speeding cars with
hormone-crazed teen-aged text-messaging drivers at the wheel—all of these I
can deal with. They’re not invisible. I can at least try
to get out of the way, but these dangers I can’t see, hear, feel, taste, or
The world’s a microwave
turned on “high.” There’s no timer, and I can’t pull the plug.
No amount of sunscreen, no lead suit, will help. And, Mom, I love you,
but my cell phone is nowhere near my front pants pocket, so don’t bother