Waters recede, unmask new epidemic--type 2 diabetes

As rescue workers and healthcare officials worked fervently to rescue those still stranded inside the devastated city of New Orleans, a new and potentially even more deadly epidemic is being uncovered as flood waters recede: type 2 diabetes.

“At first, our efforts were focused on water pollution levels,” commented WHO representative Fred Hertz. “But while e-coli, petroleum, and lead are as much as 1,000 times the acceptable level for recreational waters, it seems there is an even bigger problem on our hands.”

Area officials have reported 157 deaths directly linked to type 2 diabetes in Bernard Parish alone, but numbers are expected to rise, potentially to the thousands.

“The extent of suffering inflicted by Hurricane Katrina is absolutely astonishing,” cried Gabriel Nunez over the deafening blades of a rescue helicopter struggling to lift a helplessly overweight resident to safety. “But the amount of damage these people have inflicted on their own bodies before Katrina even arrived is truly unfathomable.”

Preliminary numbers show that as many as 83% of the impoverished residents of New Orleans are overweight, with as much as 67% of those people qualifying as morbidly obese. Red Cross pilots are being dispatched with orders to bring 10-12 refugees to safety per mission, but the sheer size of many of those stranded is seriously complicating their efforts.

The Robinson family (pictured above) brought Lt. Col. Cody Patterson’s A8-4031 to cargo capacity, prompting an early return to nearby Caldon Air Base. According to Patterson, their gratitude was somewhat questionable. “I thought they’d be happy to just be alive. But the woman just kept screaming at me. ‘Y’all got any Ho Hos up in here?’ It’s a good thing I didn’t have my gun. Honestly, I think I’d rather be in Iraq.”

Cubs/Cardinals rivalry has area dufus rooting for Atlanta, Georgia Tech

Donning an Atlanta Braves t-shirt and white Georgia Tech baseball cap, this fan soundly proved he has absolutely no idea what the hell is going on. The rivalry between St. Louis and Chicago is one of the most heated in all of baseball. Perhaps second only to Boston/NY, this perennial clash brings fans from all over the country to Busch and Wrigley in the summer months to watch their favorite teams duke it out. But there, amidst a sea of red and blue screaming passionately for their hometown heroes, stands this dumbass. Just think, there was actually a point in time before this dipshit left his house where he looked through his entire wardrobe and decided the Braves/Yellow Jackets combo would be most appropriate.

I've always wondered about people like this, showing up to sporting events decked out in their favorite team's apparel despite the fact that they're not playing. While this activity seems to be a favorite of the mullet-topped, south-side White Sox trash who go to Wrigley for no other reason than to taunt Cubs fans-regardless of their opponent-at least it has an underlying purpose. In this case, however, there is no purpose, no reason, no conceivable possibility where wearing a Braves shirt and Georgia Tech hat would have a connection.

Nevertheless, it wouldn't be any fun unless we made a few up. So, here are the top three best guesses I could come up with:

#3: He wants people to know he's from Atlanta.
Guess what, you turd fondler, nobody cares. Atlanta's not playing in Wrigley, Atlanta hasn't even clinched their division yet, and Atlanta didn't get hit by Hurricane Katrina. And what the hell has Georgia Tech done lately? Their football program sucks ass and basketball season's a little far off.

#2: He's prepared.
OK, we've all been here before. You're just about to throw on your Cubs hat and shirt and go off to see them play the Cardinals, and then you think to yourself, "Wait. What if there is a nuclear holocaust and/or every professional and collegiate sporting team has a plane/bus crash, except for the Atlanta Braves and the Georgia Tech basketball team, who both just happen to be in the Wrigley Field area, and rather than morn a national tragedy, they decide to play a baseball game, and here I am, caught with my pants down 'cause I've got this stupid Carlos Zambrano jersey on."

#1: He's retarded.
This is my vote. Slouched, disheveled, and jaw agape, this monkey stands outside Sports Corner looking for a pity fuck from some homesick drunk bleacher bimbo too loaded to realize she left Atlanta seven years ago to get away from people like this. I got a pretty good look at this guy, and I'd be willing to bet he's taking the short bus home.

Art of mime, gospel, finally united

Gospel music has a rich history in the black community and can be traced back as early as the 18th century. Before even a small minority of blacks could read or write, gospel music was an expressive means through which they could communicate and particiapte in worship. In the tradition of the black church, call and response in singing and in speaking has been and continues to be a foundation on which the gospel is delivered.

I know what you're thinking. Why not just take the singing and speaking out and replace it with everyone's favorite street art, mime? Why not indeed! From the ghettos of Harlem to the streets of the South Central, this movement, not surprisingly, has been gaining momentum for the last several decades. And now, after years of patient planning, the black community stands poised to reap the rewards through the magical stylings of K & K Gospel Mimes.

According to their site (and why shouldn't they have one-you're not going to hear a radio commercial about them) "these identical twins (Keith and Karl) silently interpret contemporary Gospel music with dramatic gestures and animated facial expressions, portraying man’s resistance of life’s evil temptations and His transformation from doubter to believer." Excuse me, Keith, Karl, I have a doubt. I doubt that a few hundred black people accustomed to clapping, singing and listening to gospel music are going to sit quietly while you and your brother play mute grabass on stage for an hour.

Their site also goes on to say that "K & K Mime Ministry (yes, it's actually a ministry of mime) wants to ensure that their message will transcend every generation. As young adults, they are particularly concerned about the issues and temptations that the youth face today." Keith, Karl, sorry to keep doing this but I have another question. If you are so concerned with ensuring your message of gospel transcends every generation, then why don't you use the universal language of the spoken/sung word-as the message of gospel has been passed from generation to generation since its inception?

Perhaps my favorite belief of the "Ministry of Mime" is how they think that, through gospel miming, they will send a clear and powerful message to deter the youth of America from the "issues and temptations they face today." Keith, Karl, peep this belief out. This sentence will never be spoken in the history of time: "So I was walkin' down the street on the way to rob the liquor store and pick me up a dime bag when I walked past the church and saw these two mimes shakin' they thangs makin' some change and I thought to myself, I'm gonna stay in school and get me an archery scholarship."

But I'll give the "Ministry" some credit-it's an idea I never would have thought of. That's probably because it's fucking stupid, but let's take a minute to imagine how the world could have benefited had they only thought of it sooner. Just think how much more interesting "Gimme a Break" would have been with a mime Nell Harper. Or how much better that New Years scene in Boogie Nights would be if Don Cheadle had on white face paint and couldn't talk. Maybe he WOULD have gotten that loan from the bank!

Yes, the possibilites are endless. But one thing is certain--everybody hates a mime, and Keith and Karl are undoubtedly no exception.

Crow 1, Bat 0

OK, there's nothing particularly funny about this, but I feel compelled to share it if for no other reason than to prove it can happen.

I was walking up to my office building (Michigan and Wacker) one morning and noticed a sharp shrieking noise, which I quickly dismissed as a small bird. The more intently I listened, however, I realized this was no ordinary sound. As I looked over, I noticed a crow standing immediately before something wounded, and flapping. As I walked closer, I realized this flapping, shrieking mess was a live bat, and a pretty big one at that.

The crow had it on its back and was picking it up by the wing and shaking it to rip it apart. A crow. Eating a bat. In front of my office. I don't live in Kentucky.

I didn't think I'd ever see this happen. Probably because I never thought this kind of thing happened, period. But it's for real, that much I can tell you.

Virgin found in Wrigleyville

No, I couldn't help myself. I saw this sitting in the front yard of someone's apartment a few blocks from the ballpark when the thought hit me-and I just couldn't walk away without a pic. And yes, I'm aware I'm going to hell.

Einstein proves time travel possible...again

They say that Einstein had a closet full of the same suit. This way, no time was wasted on selecting his daily attire. Well, as we can see, Albert has decided to "mix it up a little," opting for a slighter more gay approach to his wardrobe. However, he appears to repeatedly select the same seat for his commute home, close to the door. Hands folded neatly in his lap, briefcase securely tucked behind his feet, he pensively studies the outside world through the looking glass that is the double door window of an el car.

According to Einstein, space-time can curve back on itself, theoretically allowing travellers to double back and meet younger versions of themselves. But what about forward time travel? Has pehaps the greatest physicist and most profound thinker of human history chosen to propel a more fashionable version of himself through time, only to sit idly on the Chicago Public Transit system?

Only time will tell...or will it...

Einstein alive and well, and on the Brown Line.

I don't really have much to say about this one, but I swear this was Einstein. Look for a revolutionary breakthrough in the field of physics somewhere in the Chicago metropolitan area in the next few months. Namely between the Loop and Kimball.

Pants were not meant to do this.

Yes, I'm back at it again. But seriously, when Chicago public transportation presents me so many opportunities to capture people at their worst, I don't see how I can, in my right mind, ignore it. Or, apparently, not photograph it.

We've all seen gentlemen like this. From what I gather, after turning a certain age, pants as we know them are no longer correctly engineered. The potato-shaped lower abdomen area (in older women most affectionately referred to as a "FUPA") requires the pants to be worn very low, or, as we can see in this case, very, very high.

What struck me as odd in this particular fellow's case, however, is the sheer enormity of his lower gut and the almost incredulous height at which he has chosen to wear his pants. Either he is the victim of an exceptionally gross instance of self negligence, or he is smuggling Elian Gonzalez back into the country. And if the latter is in fact true, I must say, job well done. Name me a customs agent willing to get to the bottom of that case and I'll show you a guy who should not be out mingling with the general public.

Bonds Quits Steroids-Admits He is Also Serena Williams

Amidst gasps of disbelief, and a few hushed bursts of "I knew it!", Barry Bonds revealed in a press conference this past week that in addition to being the all-time single-season home run leader, he is, in fact, Serena Williams.

Bonds credits his desire to be a two-sport athlete and a chance meeting between he and Richard Williams, Serena's father, in 1997 as the impetus for the remarkable 9-year masquerade.

"Richard and I ran into each other at a hotel bar in Phoenix, and he kept going on about how good Venus was, but how he wished he could make even more money. After a few drinks, the plan started coming together."

With Bonds cycling off steroids during the off-season, the opportunity to fulfill his lifelong dream of being a women's tennis star seemed closer than ever. Richard Willams recounts their first discussion:

"Venus was great. But she was quiet, and had no competition-which means no endorsements, which means the end of the gravy train. My other three kids have no talent-I mean none-and I'm done changing diapers. This seemed like the best option."

When asked if he had any regrets surrounding the sham, Bonds seemed defiantly unapologetic, and had only this to say:

"It was all worth it. All the accolades, the attention, the trophies. I mean seriously-I've seen Anna Kournikova, Maria Sharipova and Jennifer Capriati buck-ass naked. How the fuck you gonna turn that down?"