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Instapundit writes about the new Phillips HeartStart:
THE PHILLIPS “HEARTSTART” Automated Home Defibrillator: When I see stuff like this, I know I’m living in the 21st Century. There’s even video of it in action….
The secret of attracting traffic to your website? Don’t update it for a while, then hope that political events produce a demand that only your neglected Internet presence can provide!
Thanks to the expected addition of James Carville to the Kerry/Edwards catastrophe campaign team, the right-wing troublemakers at Free Republic and other discussion forums brought over 2,000 hits yesterday to this entry. They’re only posting the image, of course, not headlining their message with “Michael Genrich is the most striking political satirist of our time, and this picture proves it!” Which, by the way, I really don’t think is too much to ask them to do.
Note to the Kerry campaign: bringing Carville and Begala onboard at this stage of the campaign will be about as helpful as ordering another pitcher of Pabst Blue Ribbon after you’ve already retched the last three into the bushes. It reeks of bad judgement and bad taste.
For the first time in a long, long, long period, the family and I have managed to experience a summer without anyone injured, hospitalized, or pregnant. It’s like high school all over again, except now I’m ancient. But summer draws near an end, and the Interblognet shall reap the benefits as I return to posting.
UPDATE: Server problems cropped up as soon as I posted this. Smart! More to say tonight.
I think it would be great if all the cast members from Beat Street and Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo got together and held a bake sale or raffle to raise money that would benefit aging breakdancers who suffer from old breakdancing injuries, and afterwards they could hold some sort of competition to see which cast was the better cast, but they could do something like play chess or try to make the biggest omelette instead of having a breakdancing battle, which would just be playing to stereotype, and then round the whole day up with a Kid ‘n’ Play Lookalike Contest, which should really showcase some creativity because what sort of things could you put on your head to make it look like you had Kid’s crazy tall high top fade? Some sort of industrial air filter, maybe, or a hunk of coral if you lived close to the ocean.
I think that modern popular music might sound better if there was more use of the note C flat. I would like Mr. Kid Rock to consider this.
Today is like cleaning out your closet and finding your eighth grade algebra book, in which you answered all the end-of-chapter questions right on the pages with a pencil, and pulling out two pieces of paper, one being a note from Linda Franken that asks if you’re going to Sandra Thurber’s party tomorrow and if you’d like to walk over with her if you are going and might you know why Bonnie Sanders is being such a bitch today, and the other being a receipt from Crown Books for a paperback you bought with some birthday money from your grandmother in Wisconsin who you haven’t seen in over ten years because of the divorce, which no one in the family really feels comfortable talking about, and the title of that paperback was The Parsifal Mosaic.
I am in a fantasy baseball league, which is a very fun thing to do if you like both baseball and the act of fantasizing. But I really wish someone would expand the scope of fantasy baseball to other baseball-related activities, maybe something like Fantasy Concessions Operation, because I tell you what, I bet no one can pretend to sell roasted peanuts like I can.
I think it’s kind of a waste that every four years Americans vote for electors for the Electoral College who then in turn vote for the President and Vice President, and nothing else. I think that as long as we’ve gone through the trouble to assemble the College, we should get them to vote on some other important things, like which members of Congress are secretly gay, because I’ve always had a sneaking suspicion about some of those guys on the Senate Rules Committee.
I bet more people would have really liked Bill Clinton’s autobiography if the former President had thrown in some stuff about demon-possessed cars, or werewolves in a small Maine town, because when Stephen King writes about things like that people seem to really like it. Either that or some more stuff about all the blowjobs.
I think it should be easier for regular people to purchase urinal cakes.