We Didn't Start The Fire

But I think I know who did...

Five bucks says she lives in California.

Bats Perish, And I Know Why

Today the New York Times ran a story called: "Bats Perish, and No One Knows Why." I guess 90% of the bat population has died off in the Northeast, and eco-batologist-types are worried the world is about to end. Worst of all, no one knows why this is happening... no one... except me.

Here are the facts: Bats hang out in pitch black caves year-round. When they leave their dreary, subterranean dens, they seem to keel over and die. Why am I not surprised?

First off, bats are just about the weirdest looking thing left on the planet.

Yikes. It's furry and translucent. That's a winning combo. The truth is, weird looking things inevitably die off. Take the dodo bird, for instance. It looks like an albatross raped a pigeon. EXTINCT. Or the woolly mammoth. Some people say Native Americans killed them off. Nope. They're just ugly. Think about it, what's uglier than an elephant... that's right, an elephant covered in shaggy, brown hair. EXTINCT.

As for bats, I'm pretty sure it was Darwin who said, "animals that look like miniature-pterodactyl-mice will perish." It's probably on page 1 of that book he wrote that Creationists hate so much. The only time furry, translucent creatures get any ass is when they're in dark caves. It's a lot like how drunk people--who would otherwise find each other revolting--hook up in dimly lit dive bars. If you can't see who you're banging, it's hard to object.

And that, my friends, is why bats have lasted so long. It's the caves. Plain and simple. If they keep leaving their caves, venturing out into broad daylight, they will inevitably, and steadily, decline as a species.

American Renaissance

Michelangelo (the artist, not the Ninja Turtle) was born in 15th Century Tuscany. But if he'd been born 500 years later, in Mississippi, things may have turned out a bit different for David.


Via Eternally Cool.

Bad Santa

For some reason, Santa Claus strikes fear into the hearts of young children. There is plenty of documented evidence. But why Santa?

Maybe it's because the only thing creepier than a child molester, is a child molester with a white beard and a red onesie?


Or maybe it's because everyone says he lives in the North Pole, but it's quite clear he's been sleeping in an abandoned warehouse in a pool of his own excrement.


Or maybe, just maybe, it's because he cackles maniacally when small children writhe in his arms, petrified that they may never escape.


Whatever it is, one thing is clear. Nothing says Christmas like innocent children beset with unadulterated terror. Well, that and showing A Christmas Story on TBS twelve times in a row. But we all know, if it weren't for Ralphie's tormented childhood, there wouldn't be much of a story.