hostage situations

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been updating the site every Tuesday and Friday! Yes, congratulate me, thanks so much. And the site is picking up steam! All without mentioning “Charlie Sheen tiger blood winning breakdowns #teamsheen,” “hot lolita springbreak fuck adventures” or “iPad 2 specs unboxing Steve Jobs death grip.” None of those hit-generating phrases were mentioned, and they never will. This week, let’s take a look at some of the stories that haven’t been getting as much play – let’s mine Reuters’ Oddly Enough for content and feel great about ourselves.

If this was a news magazine show, this first story would come fully equipped with twangy “this is wacky” country music. The kind of music that’s usually associated with crazy Christians handing out doomsday tracts to cosplaying pirates, or an exposé of an old tyme general store that sells nothing but antique whoopie cushions. Oh ho ho, people sure are dumb and this “aw shucks” diddy should really drive that point home.

Why is this headline asking a question when it clearly has all of its facts straight? Man Speeds With Wife on Hood of Minivan? Yes. Fact. Man speeds with wife on hood of minivan. Have some confidence in your reporting Reuters Oddly Enough, you’re doing great. We’ve all been here – living in Manteca, smoking some meth on a Saturday morning, wife is bitching about something or other (ooh, go pick up some sea salt from Trader Joe’s even though we have a full canister of regular salt just sitting in the pantry, ah duh duh duh). You know what? I’m Christopher Carroll, 36, and I’ve got things to do, and none of those things involves purchasing exorbitant salts for my wife. And now we’re fighting.

Oddly enough, this horse owns 90% of the tri-state area. CRAZY RIGHT?

Now again, if this was a news magazine show (a classy one like Hard Copy or A Current Affair), the twangy country music would kick into high gear once the reenactress playing Christopher Carroll’s wife climbed onto the hood of the minivan. Like, overalls with no shirt underneath, blowing into a brown jug marked XXX, spitting chewing tobaccee into a rusty Folgers can levels of twang. Yee-hawwwww, we’re goin’ for a ride darlin’! A 40 mile ride at speeds of up to 100 miles per hour with your wife clinging to the hood of a minivan, Death Proof style, and you’ve smoked as much meth as Tarantino has snorted coke this morning. I did some detective work of my own and verified that Manteca, CA really is 40 miles from Pleasanton, CA, where Christopher’s wife finally rolled off the hood. Thankfully no one was hurt becau- twang-a-lang doopity-doot-doot-twang faaaaaart.

California Woman Sues After Slipping on a Banana Peel. This happens every few years, right? Some old Looney Toons comedic staple happens in real life, like an Acme safe falls 100 stories and liquefies a pedestrian, or a man sees an attractive woman and his heart literally pounds itself out of his rib cage, grows angel wings and flies up to heaven. Banana peels can be just as deadly. Just ask Ida Valentine, 58, who was minding her own business at her local 99 cent store when all of a sudden whoooa-whoooa-whoooa, arms flailing backwards CRASH into a shelf of leaking Duracille batteries and expired baby food.

Now she’s going to sue the everloving shit out of the 99 cent store, Chiquita, and gravity to the tune of $ALLTHEMONEYINTHEWORLD.99. And she’ll probably win because, your honor, if it pleases the court, we’re going to play a few rounds of Mario Kart. And we’re going to PROVE, beyond a shadow of a doubt that Ida’s experience at the 99 Cents Only store is not an isolated incident, as seen here at the Coconut Mall, Rainbow Road and even the lowly Luigi Circuit. Bananas littering the roads; karts (sic), motorcycles and adorable dinosaurs spinning out of control and sometimes into oncoming traffic. When asked for comment, Ida Valentine’s lawyer replied, “It’s bullshit that whoever’s in first place gets stuck with bananas and green shells while the rest of the losers tied for 12th place get blue shells and lightning bolts. Nevertheless, despite these unlawful circumstances, I’ma gonna weeeeeen!”

Hidden Kafka Papers Revealed to Israeli Court. According to the giant byline, “Writings by Franz Kafka and his friend Max Brod which have been hidden away for decades have been brought to light at an Israeli court and could reveal more on the life of one of the 20th century’s greatest authors.” After visiting the Franz Kafka Museum in Prague last year, I’m totally okay with knowing less about the life of one of the 20th century’s greatest authors. The first few rooms of the museum were pretty typical – newspaper clippings and photos documenting Kafka’s life in Prague. A few rooms later you’re walking down a stairway into hell, featuring rooms filled with oversized filing cabinets and telephones that never stop ringing (Kafka didn’t love his office job). There’s a circular room in the middle of the basement that you can peer into through small slits and watch a film of skin being slit over and over. Oh, and a tiny model of a man being crushed in a vice. It’s like walking through Eraserhead’s apartment. When you finally reach daylight, there are two statues standing in front of the museum – men facing each other, peeing into a pool with rotating hips. Here’s a video walkthrough (not mine).

Will these hidden papers add another wing to the museum? Maybe there can be a dark room where a gun is held to your head while you watch 8mm abortion documentaries. Or they could build a planetarium where the night sky is ripped in half by a half man half insect that descends from the roof and flicks your ear for an hour, vomits on you and then eats your skin. Way to go Kafka! Your museum is batshit fucking crazy.