Ever notice how the coefficient of friction of spaghetti noodles is lower when you are dining with a charming Romanian diplomat, making them* harder to keep on your fork? Why is that?

Ever notice how, when you drive some VIPs somewhere in the Mercedes, and they were already joking about you because *they* had to give *you* directions, when you get out and press the button on the keys to lock the door, the trunk lid pops open instead?

*the noodles

Unfortunately, the recent amnesty for irregular immigration to the United States does not apply to you if you are a talented, popular piano teacher with all your family — including husband and small child — in the United States and none back in Russia, and you were tricked by a former boyfriend into making false and even fraudulent statements in your immigration papers.

The letter of the law says she has to return to a life that no longer exists. This is really sad. I urge the authorities to let her stay, and I urge “mainstream” “media” to look further into her story.

[Via Vex]

Neat way to waste 45 seconds or so.

We’re about two weeks, just a couple decent catastrophes — asteroid strike, plague, ice age, starlet die-off — from hunting and gathering. Our so-called “civilization” is that fragile, buddy, and don’t you forget it.

Two weeks of collapse, then the milk-man stops coming around. No more junk mail. Heating with the last of the firewood, then the furniture. Two weeks, then all the meat in the stores is spoiled. All the good cereal is off the shelves. The bananas are brown — although the genetically-modified tomatoes still look fine, until you slice one open and red mush oozes out.

Two weeks in a nice warm house until thick-necked thugs come around and kick you out. Two weeks until you realize maybe a gun would have been a good idea because all you have in the cellar is a pointy stick and how much game you going to catch with that? It’s too dull to stick into an animal, even if you could sneak up on one.

No, you’re reduced to running over animals with the car, until you run out of fuel.

“What, dad, dog again?”

“You think you’re unhappy, you should have seen the lady on the other end of the leash.”

“Save me any?”

“Nah, she was way too lean.”

Two weeks, and you’re trying to explain to someone not only what a blog was, but what the Internet was.

“What, you mean you wrote hundreds of pages of wonderful texts? So where are they?”

“Eh, stored on servers somewhere in California, I believe.”

“California, I heard of that.”

“Stored in the form of magnetic patterns or something.”

“Hey, nice stick.”

Leftist propaganda.

Believe it or not, Scarlett Johansson reads blogs. Including Metamorphosism.

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Quite cold. Snowing now, but it was clear and sunny when we went skating this morning. Ice King aka the Black-Tipped Shark was there, but he left me alone as he had his hands full with a series of other pupils, or “pupils”, not sure. Also, I was skating better. Sometimes, when you try to do something right as opposed to just fcuking around, it actually does some good. I also managed not to crush any little girls this time around, although this one cute little 5-year-old managed to cross my path dangerously about once every sixty seconds.

On the way home we picked up lunch at McDonald’s because we had free coupons and closely checked our takeout order before driving away because they always fuck up our order there and sure enough we had to return and switch a couple items. Not until we arrived home did we discover that Alpha had been given a Fitness Salad instead of a Tuna Salad, and Gamma had received some sort of Gummi Bear thing instead of ketchup with her Chicken McNugget Happy Meal.

My Chef McSalad was indeed a Chef McSalad. And the McVeggie McBurgers were also right. So basically we got nearly what we’d wanted, and at the same time were able to feel McSuperior, which was nice.

In the afternoon, we had filled donuts. Now, in the pre-Lenten Fasching season, that’s what one is expected to eat a lot of. Donuts, filled donuts, filled with apricot marmelade and dusted thickly with powdered sugar. People who dress primarily in black, as I do, dread this season.