Grandma's Brain Polluted by Bongos

Don't know where Brent Davis originally got this, but link for ham sandwich and squid bonuses.
Update: I hope to post the image soon. Blogger's belching as usual.
Update2: Five hours later. No Go.
Update3: Friday Afternoon. Still nothing. Irritating.
Update4: Saturday night. Finally worked. It's not that the pic's so awesome, obviously, it's just that I'm freaky enough not to be able to move onto a new post until I get "closure". And I like Maynard G. Krebbs.


It's all Science and Cultchah today.

1) So, what about the narcissistic hippies now grown into grandmas? Matured? Not really. Still incredibly self-absorbed and selfish, they'll no doubt be surprised when their families find them unpleasant and optional. While journeying deep within the shallow puddles of themselves to the exclusion of valuing any other human lives, they should hope they don't need any bone marrow or help recovering from surgery. Here's a review about 60s-era sexual trailblazer Erica Jong. More of the same egocentric, self-justifying blah-blah. How utterly irrelevant and risible these one-time rebels have become due to their unwillingness to progress beyond the normal head-up-the-heiny stages of youth.

2) More talk about the specific differences in male and female brains.

3) Via Tim Blair, if you're riding a scooter for the green factor, read this. Many scooters are worse polluters than SUVs.

4) New York has already had an anthrax victim/tribal drummer. Though the CDC says the chance of contamination is low (higher with exotic hides), now I read in the Daily Gut about this UK dude likely killed by stretching his own bongo skins. No one's ever died from playing the flugelhorn, though some have suffered chronic cases of mild embarrassment. I was going to say accordion, except accordions rock wicked hard for polkas and morose French cafe music.