'Potentially deadly’ heat wave grips two-thirds of U.S., with dozens of records likely to fall

+++++++++++++++++++++++

**************************

##########################

it got so hot that most of the clouds melted into white sauce, flowing down the mountainsides like lava to inundate towns and cities across the land. then the asphalt roads bubbled up in fevered protest to engulf cars and trucks; whole family vans disappeared into the muck, gummy bears and all. sidewalks turned to chalk dust. metal became too hot to touch. no one barbecued -- smart families stayed inside, sucking on Slushies. when the swelter abated with the October rains, a committee of scientists, politicians, and used car salesmen were called to the nation's capital to seek a solution. they decided that mankind must move into the ocean on inflatable plastic pool toys for the next fifty years. and so it was done. it wasn't so bad, really. giant drones with giant umbrellas shielded us from the tropical sun and from heavy rains. hurricanes were easy to prevent with Alka Seltzer. humanity feasted on caviar and ambergris. I myself managed to have a large family, and when my grand kids went back up on the land I refused to go with them. 

"You can't teach an old fish new tricks" I told them, as the Japanese trawler swept me up in its net and threw me on ice.   

Embattled GOP congressman ordered to stop using Marine Corps emblem after Islamophobic campaign ad

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

(dedicated to @emrosenberg)

a school for winners was founded in Detroit in 1949. it taught people to win what they want at any cost, to themselves and to others.  their school motto, "Never Let 'em Know You're Bleeding!," was perhaps too aggressive. in hindsight school administrators now believe the school should have been open to all sorts of students, not just ambitious overachievers.

their most popular course over the years, and still today, is "Throwing Folders on a Table in an Intimidating Manner." this is a handy skill to have if you're interrogating someone or testifying before Congress, or, indeed, if you belong to Congress and want to terrify someone with a folder smack down. it can be used in the office, as well. the real trick, which takes much practice, is to slam the folder down on the table without having any of the papers inside slide out all over the place. most folder slamming experts agree that the best way to prevent such an occurrence is to have nothing in the folder at all. 

in fact, the school is thinking of changing their motto to:  "An Empty Folder is Your Best Friend."

City plays ‘Baby Shark’ on loop to keep homeless from sleeping in waterfront park. (WaPo)

88888888888888888888888888888888888888

"the tuba brigade is ready, sir" the soldier told the corporal.

"bring up the piccolos as well" ordered the lieutenant. 

"have the glockenspiels arrived yet?" asked the colonel.

"no sir, but the clarinet snipers are in place" said the soldier.

"keep the bassoons in reserve, then" ordered the general.

and the battle commenced.

the oom-pah squad advanced on Park Bench #23, clearing it after heavy breathing. 

Admiral Hartwig bombarded the duck pond with player pianos until the enemy retreated into the bulrushes. 

stragglers were beaten with ukuleles.

a battalion of bagpipes was wiped out when the enemy surrounded them with scotch tape.

in a surprise move, the enemy formed their shopping carts into a V and charged recklessly into the middle of the orchestra. Admiral Hartwig issued kazoos for a kamikaze last ditch attempt, but it was too late. All belligerents were now tone deaf. 

this correspondent watched in horror as every violin was sent to summer camp.

The chaplain of the U.S. House ‘cast out all spirits of darkness’ in his chamber prayer amid racism fight (WaPo)

(dedicated to Michelle Boorstein)


the goldfinches were fighting over the sack of black thistles I hung out for them under the eaves. at first I was enchanted with their circling dives and soft-voiced tweeps as they dive bombed each other. this is as natural as it gets, I said to myself. it's fascinating to watch. but then my simple heart began to ache. they were spending more energy on fighting than on feeding, and half of the black thistles wound up on the ground, where the quail and sparrows, the eternal enemies of goldfinches, reveled in it. what a waste!
I had to do something, so I stepped outside, raised my hands, and yelled at the goldfinches to cease their constant bickering. they paid no attention to me. so I raised my voice and repeated my plea. at this they turned on me, dropping down on my head like the ping pong balls used to do on Captain Kangaroo's head. it would have been funny if it were not so tragic.
Running for cover, I said a brief prayer:  "Help these foolish birds to understand the error of their ways, oh Lord!" Once inside the house I made waffles and fried bacon and forgot about the lousy birds. the next day a cat crawled up the trellis and wiped them all out. 

Baseball card collectors suspected rampant fraud in their hobby. Now the FBI is investigating. (WaPo)

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

but what's that got to do with the fact that I can't fill the hole in my backyard? no matter how much stuff I put in it, it just keeps getting wider and deeper. it's not a sinkhole, sez the geologist the university sent over the other day. she said it was caused by the seeping rot of the times we live in. just what I need, a moralist who charges me 75 bucks for a fifteen minute evaluation. I already know the truth can be photo-shopped and reality altered at the drop of a hat. I don't need anyone to tell me that. what I need is someone who can make this hole in my backyard go away.

there must be a comic book solution somewhere. everything has already been posited in comic books, from sentient chives to Knut Hamsun dancing with Ginger Rogers in an alternate universe. if I read enough comic books I believe I can find the solution to my disappearing backyard, and maybe save the entire planet from whatever the heck is sucking away my property. this is a comforting thought. I must pursue this course of action, as soon as I emerge from my chrysalis.  

As many as 4 million people have Web browser extensions that sell their every click. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. (WaPo)

I went down to the Digital Spy Bureau to apply to be a digital spy.  they welcomed me with open gigabytes.  "you're just the type we need" they said.  "you are sneaky, insincere, nosy, dogmatic, and lack social skills."  I had to agree with them -- no false modesty for me.
my first assignment was to gather data on an old woman who never got any junk mail in her senior citizen's apartment building mail box.  this was very suspicious, perhaps an extinction level event, so my superiors needed me to go online and find out about her agenda.  trouble was, she didn't have an online presence.  no email, no Facebook, no nothin'.  when I told this to my superiors they threw me into a foot locker.  I am still there, tapping out messages by morse code.  I hope to heaven this message gets out.  if you are reading this, please go to the Silver Dish Thai Cafe on Center Street in Provo and look in the last booth on the left -- you will see a foot locker.  if I'm not in there you'll know I've been digitized for my country.  send my regards to Jeff Zucker.   

An Iowa official and Tupac stan was fired. He says it wasn’t because of the ‘thug life’ cookies. (WaPo)

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

I read the headline in the newspaper three times, and still didn't understand it.  I called the editor of the paper and asked him what the heck was the meaning of that particular headline; it seemed like gibberish to me.
he answered very smoothly:  "that is our new streamlined approach to the news -- an algorithm picks out the words at random and we print them as such.  our subscribers find it very engaging."
"it ain't engaging to me" I told him and hung up.  then I poured myself a glass of buttermilk and read a paperback out in the backyard while dozens of Russian milkweed pods broadcast their divisive seeds across my lawn.  a boy in a grey t-shirt and grey shorts, wearing black dress shoes, walked respectfully up to me and waited.
"want some buttermilk?" I asked him.  "no thank you" he replied politely.  "I am here at the instigation of the editor to bring you in."
"instigation?" I said.  "that's a pretty big word for a mighty small boy."  at that, he smiled.  we became great friends for the afternoon, tossing a frisbee back and forth.  but he still brought me in that evening, and now I may never escape this hellish job of stuffing Sunday supplements by hand each week. 

A GOP lawmaker thinks rise in Lyme disease is due to a secret tick experiment. A scientist squashes that idea. (WaPo)

millennia ago, the Ticks came to earth and began experimenting on us.  at that time they were monstrous huge creatures, the height of a green bay tree.  they put poison ivy in the Garden of Eden.  they gave Noah hydrophobia. then their own evil experiments backfired on them, shrinking them to their current insignificant size.  but they still possess an unpleasant curiosity.
their work with the Pentagon is well known in certain circles, and their very insignificance works to their advantage.  they sit on leaves in the gardens of important people, eavesdropping.  riding along all unbeknownst in a shirt pocket is one of their favorite activities -- this takes them into top secret facilities around the world, where they can crawl about and wreak havoc on not only our enemies but even on our allies. they don't care who they serve, as long as it causes misery and destruction.  if the Russians ever find out what the Ticks are still capable of, we can all kiss our pinky rings goodbye.    

BYU grad tells U.S. Senate panel he would impartially apply law if confirmed as federal judge (Deseret News)

(dedicated to @dennisromboy)


I tried to impartially apply the law to my kids when they were little.
"Time for bed" I announced each night at 8.  this only caused them to caper about like demented lemurs.  "All must go to bed at 8" I said sternly one night in July. "Even you?" they mocked back.  "No, not me. I'm an adult and can stay up as late as I want."  they scattered before me like a sack of emptied marbles, and I didn't see them again for twenty years.  

Iran’s Revolutionary Guard announces seizure of oil tanker accused of smuggling fuel in the Strait of Hormuz

(dedicated to @LizSly)

I went to get my car out of the impound lot.  they hauled it away cuz I was parked too long in the same spot.  or so they said.  Personally, I think it's a racket.  sharks are not only found on the high seas, you know.  there are plenty of other sharks around.  they ought to be muzzled.  that's what I said to the guy in front of me at the impound lot.
"I happen to be a shark muzzler" he said back to me.
"No, really?" I said.
"Really" he said.  He showed me his bare arms, covered with scars and bleeding welts.
"You could have gotten those anywhere" I scoffed at him.
"Watch this" was his only reply.  he pushed his way to the front of the line and grabbed  the man at the desk by his shirtfront.  he lifted him up and pulled him across the desk; the man turned into a great white shark and began thrashing about, biting his arms.  the shark muzzler slipped a leather muzzle over the sharkman's head and dragged him off.  "Sorry to doubt!" I yelled after him.  "We need more of your kind!"