Read all about it "Tampla, Fla.--" When Forida is the location of the news story's subject, you can bet it's a grisly event. MWB could create a whole category of "Grisly Florida News" and fill it every single month. Is it the heat? The humidity? Or is it just that it's such a miserable place only the lunatics either go or stay there? But so many of these horrifying, shocking events occur there it might be worthy of a) determining its root causes and b) convincing people Florida should just be formally named the violent fruitloop penal colony it already seems to be.

Read all about it While this crime, killing one's husband, then trisecting him and putting him in three suitcases to be tossed into the Chesapeake Bay on the surface seems like a horrendous crime, the MWB team completely sympathizes. Note to self: the suitcases and body bags always wash ashore. You gotta convince him to take a trip where there are piranhas. oops... Did I write that out loud?

Read all about it When this boy genius gets out of jail, maybe he can submit an application to NASA; I hear they're looking for a good scientist who knows the difference between metrics and the Imperial system. A quick net search will bring him up to speed.

I've been noticing that liberal women are really uptight. Really uptight. For example, I drive a small sports car (metallic blue, convertible, my flaming red hair looks so hot on a top-down day... but I digress) and I must go over speedbumps very slowly and carefully. About 90% of the women in my building get their flesh colored pantyhose knotted far up their buttcracks while they wait an extra 1 minute 30 seconds to exit the parking garage. Another... chatting it up with the hot young checker at the grocery store, the thick-thighed, black hair-lipped beetches just wind it up, and I say, go get laid sister! Since they are liberals and they can't be bothered to let go in this patriarchal hell we call Southern California, I decided to let you see for yourselves what the differences are between US, and THEM... here are a few... CONSERVATIVE [or libertarian;)] ASSES:

LIBERAL ASSES:
          
Which one would you rather put your hands on?

Read all about it I remember this story from when it happened... But what can you say about a guy who decapitates his best friend while driving drunk... that's about the worst luck I've ever heard in my life, for both of them. See, how many times have we all stuck our heads out a car window, sick after a night of hard drinking. And jeeezus, none of us ever dreamed we'd get our heads chopped off by anyone but our parents. The best part, if you will, is that the driver was so blasted he just drove home, parked, passed out inside, and left the headless body in the car--in the driveway, no less--to be found the next day by some folks on a nice morning stroll. His blood alcohol was only 2 times the limit? That's all it took for this guy to chop his friend's head off without knowing it? It woulda' taken about 7x that amount for Marla and me... Cheers!

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/nkorea_nuclear Left to their own communist devices, communist societies have very little gross domestic product, high inflation, negative growth, and just implode. China has been a stunning counter argument but they have succeded in three simple ways: by sheer number of expendible worker bees, adoption of some western ecomic practices, and stealing anything they need with protections, such as "Most Favored Nation" status granted by the US. Just leave North Korea alone; their people are starving, their leader is insane, and we could obliterate them with one push of a very red button.

Q: How many people does it take to put together one set of scuba gear on a beautiful Saturday morning? A: Two full size hu-maans and one chihuahua

And, the full spectrum SoCal-lie view of life:

Dallas, are you drooling? Or is that just a sweaty chin...

I fear I will have to sew every stitch of clothing I will ever wear. Because if this is what is in my fashion future, I'd rather be buried now, while I can still find a proper pink Dolce & Gabbana suit. These pants, or whatever the hell they are calling these things, are worse than any whorifying Christina Aguilera get-up. They are worse than the worst beaded hairball monstrosity Cher's dead cat could cough up in Pet Psychic's Dead Pet Connection. Oh, and you pay $140 on eBay for crying out loud for these beauties. Once again, the fashion industry run by flaming homosexuals is creating clothes that should simply be set on fire.

Read all about it Thanks Marla... It's hard to read this article...like watching that kickboxing clip, where one opponent breaks the tibia (shin bone, my simple-minded, hangover-fogged bloggees) of the other opponent completely in half, a fact not apparent until he steps on the leg and it collapses. I gather this guy's penis was broken completely in half during sex. Arrrrghhh! That was hard to write, and I'm a female! He sues the offending sex partner over this obviously complete accident. Typical liberal mindset (this guy could be a GOP chairman; we're talking mindset here). They expect us to live without risks, suffer no consequences or side effects of life. People, corporations, the government, must remedy even fluke occurrences since the mindset demands a risk-free life. After you get by the ick-factor of the story, and then after you stop giggling, think about what it's really about.

I am a BlackBerry carrier. And it is as bad as it sounds; like a 'carrier' of tuberculosis and a 'carrier' of typhoid... a BlackBerry carrier. It can be an addiction; as surely as the herion was through Steven Tyler's veins, it can be an addiction, and that's when it morphs from BlackBerry to CrackBerry. When I first got a job that gave me this Crack addiction, I thought, cool! Heroine addicts say the same thing, their first high; hey that was great... and, I won't get hooked. And then the Crack starts calling you, in the middle of the night, all night... it starts as low whispers at first; harmless and breathless little sounds..."check me.... check me.... check me...." and as surely as the high on first plunge of the syringe, if the mail count went from "4" to "5" between 10 p.m. and 10:15 p.m., you get a little thrill. It's subtle, to be sure; you can still walk to the bathroom without falling down. But it's a thrill nonetheless. A whiff of importance, a brief added meaning to life. Then, like all addictions, it gets worse. The subtle, breathless whisper turns into a scream: CHECK ME! CHECK ME! CHECK ME! Like a baby in a poop-filled diaper, you're checkin' that thing 20 times a night. And your brain's pleasure centers feed you when you get that indicator that tells you your emails have incremented, one after another; 4; 5; 6; 9. Ooo I'm important now! Then, like all addictions, the justification sets in... Okay; I'm checking this thing 80 times a night and all night long, but at least I won't have to get caught up on my emails tomorrow! And what a good thing too, because you're gonna have to get caught up on your sleep. Then, like with all addicitons, the crash... I'm checking this thing 80 times a night, it's all bullshit, the people sending me emails all night must be on crystal methamphetemine, and I'm about to lose my mind. NO MORE! I QUIT! And you set the CrackBerry on the entry way table to charge, set to "off". And this, my friends, is the night the electricity in your server room goes, and they try to reach you all weekend. This is the night the stunning application you installed last week has crashed and burned this week. This is the night that your reconciliation module cannot reconcile. This is the night you reach... Acceptance. And you turn the CrackBerry back on, and you don't dare stop checking it, and you don't question it anymore, like any good Borg would (not). Life is good again.