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1 (18.25 ounce) box dark chocolate cake mix

4 eggs

1 cup sour cream

1 cup Kahlua (coffee liqueur)

3/4 cup vegetable oil

1 cup semisweet chocolate chips

1 grenade

1 (1 pound) can chocolate frosting

1 1/2 tablespoons Kahlua (coffee liqueur)

1. In a large bowl, combine cake mix, eggs, sour cream, 1 cup coffee liqueur, and vegetable oil. Using an electric mixer, beat at low speed to blend. Increase speed, and beat 3 to 5 minutes. Stir in the chocolate chips. Pour batter into greased and floured 10 inch bundt pan. 2. Bake at 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) for 55 to 60 minutes, or until tester inserted in center comes out clean. Cool cake in pan on rack for 30 minutes. Remove from pan, and cool completely. 3. Microwave frosting 15 to 25 seconds, just until soft. Stir with spoon, and add 1 1/2 tablespoons coffee liqueur. Stir well. Drizzle frosting over cooled cake. Insert unpinned grenade into center of cake. Makes 10 inch bundt cake and 80 foot ingredient-filled sphere of death.

The ones on the backs of credit cards you get in the mail? That are rubbery, but not sticky? I love those.

On April 24, 1976, Lorne Michaels, producer of NBC’s Saturday Night, made an on-air offer of $3000 to The Beatles if they would re-unite and perform on the show.

“$750 is pretty chintzy,” George Harrison [said] to Lorne Michaels on an SNL episode, upon finding out he’d only get 1/4 of the $3,000.

Without further ado: a link to The Crackerbox Palace video, from SNL Nov 30, 1976. Thanks, Zarathustra!

“I wandered into myspace a little while ago. Very depressing. I’m pretty sure it’s not depressing because of the energy that is represented by the people who bother to put their lives on display, and my recognition that I don’t share that energy; I’m pretty sure it’s depressing because of the immodesty, the lies, the self-congratulation, the bewildered urge to connect to the corporate monster, the startling off-hand revelations, the depth of misplaced hope, and the sluice of links to others who do the same. I’m pretty sure that’s it.”

editor’s note: Moments later, satisfied with his prose, he put down his beer, walked out into the inky darkness of the backyard to allow the dogs their night-time dump, and fell into the pool with all his clothes on.

Rolling Stone : The RS 500 Greatest Albums of All Time

I linked through to RS from somewhere else for some reason; doesn’t matter. What matters is the awful, awful things they’ve put in their top 500 albums chart.

Everyone has his limits. “No U2 album shall be above every Who album,” for instance. Or “No ‘Greatest Hits’ album shall be in the top 400.”

Rankings are a combination of opinion, mood, timing, and probably 10 or 100 other factors, only one of which measures what the scale is supposed to measure. And when RS or SI or the Sun Herald or anyone else puts out a “Top x” list of anything, they anger or perplex every single reader. Every single one. There’s no one at home saying “Wow, they got it exactly right again, Alice.” No one. Not even Alice’s idiot husband.

This is what I want: the reader at home can peruse a list of 500 albums, can see a blank interspaced every five numbers, and can say something like “Well, obviously Hambone Lardstump’s seminal Bloodpuppy album comes in at number 15.”

And they can’t cheat. They have to come up with, say, a top 500 albums of all time list, then remove every fifth album. In other words, they can’t just come up with a top 400 list, then shoehorn blanks in there. Because I’d still get mad at them, that’s why!

No angst, no fuss, and everyone stays happy. Even Lardstump’s rabid followers.

Religious Freaks » Next Generation Of Religious Freaks

I was able to get through nearly half the video before the urge to beat these kids’ parents senseless became uncontrollable.

via Jwalk

Scientists help bodies grow new organs.

A team of scientists and surgeons at a Melbourne hospital has developed a method of growing new organs within a patient’s body.

The article goes on to say that I’m not going to get a new liver or forearm next week. So it’s another false alarm.

I just want a little shot of amazing news to tide me over. Aren’t we due? I think we’re due. I think the last mind-blowing news was when the Berlin Wall came down. What was that, ‘90? And don’t get me started on amazing health news; it’s been a goddamn biblical drought around here.

You people have rested on your “We’ve eradicated smallpox” laurels for one hell of a long time. You need to get back to work! Cure cancer and heart disease already! I mean, Jesus! Look at the time!

CNN.com - Mistaken identity shifts grief after deadly accident - May 31, 2006

The severely injured young woman was in a coma for a time, but the family’s blog detailed the many small steps she made toward recovery: feeding herself applesauce, playing Connect Four with a therapist. But as her condition improved, Laura Van Ryn’s family realized they had the wrong woman, and Colleen Cerak realized she had not buried her daughter.

‘Hello Papa,’ said Yossarian.

‘Hello Giuseppe.’

‘His name is Yossarian, Pa.’

‘I can’t get over how terrible he looks,’ the father said.

‘Be thankful you’re healthy.’

‘Be bitter you’re not going to stay that way.’

‘Be glad you’re even alive.’

‘Be furious you’re going to die.’

‘Things could be much worse,’ she cried.

‘They could be one hell of a lot better,’ he answered heatedly.