I am unable to speak—have been for days—because I saw Bob Costas’ Olympic hair. You have GOT to be fucking kidding me.

My old college roommate sent me this gem, an a.p. story out of Columbus, Ohio. Read to the end for the kicker; I even put it in bold type, not that it needs any emphasis.

Ohio board reviews report of teacher burning kids
By DOUG WHITEMAN, Associated Press Writer
COLUMBUS, Ohio – Members of the Mount Vernon school board met Friday to discuss a finding that a middle school teacher preached his Christian beliefs despite staff complaints, even using a device to burn the image of a cross on students’ arms.

Mount Vernon Middle School teacher John Freshwater also taught creationism in his science class and was insubordinate in failing to remove a Bible and other religious materials from his classroom, a report by independent investigators said.

School board members gathered a day after consulting firm H.R. On Call Inc. released its report. It wasn’t immediately clear what action, if any, officials in the community about 40 miles northeast of Columbus would take against Freshwater.

Superintendent Stephen Short declined to comment before the meeting. Freshwater’s attorney, Roger Weaver, didn’t immediately return a message seeking comment.
The report comes one week after a family filed a lawsuit in U.S. District Court in Columbus against Freshwater and the school district, saying Freshwater burned a cross on their child’s arm that remained for three or four weeks.

Freshwater’s friend Dave Daubenmire defended him.
“With the exception of the cross-burning episode … I believe John Freshwater is teaching the values of the parents in the Mount Vernon school district,” he told The Columbus Dispatch for a story published Friday.

Holy shit.

One time, in high school (not band camp), my friend Brian Scargill called someone an “assbutt” in gym class. I’ll never forget it. I thought it was brilliant, to call a guy an amalgam of slang phrases for the posterior. While I never forgot the moment, or the expression, I’ve never, ever used it. But now I am forced to do so, for fear of calling this idiotic moron something far worse.

Say hello to Assbutt “Breakdancing,White,In2006” Assholeface:

This horrific image captures the New York City Twentysomething Financial Sector Asshole Jerkoff in its natural setting around this time of year, the office holiday party. My dear friend sent me this picture as evidence that she needs to get the hell out of her current job, but I would argue that most office environments are habitats for similar specimens. Sigh…

Yeah, that’s right, there are trolls guarding the pedestrian bridge over Foothills Parkway just a few hundred yards from my house. This story should give you a good insight to some of the characters that inhabit this fine town of Boulder. I consider these people to be my outdoor pets.

It’s not that it’s always crowded, it’s not the hypocrisy of their touting sustainability while selling Chilean Tomatoes in the Garden State, it’s not the fact that they charge five clams for a tomato and cheese sandwich. The real problem with Whole Foods, at least here at the Boulder branch, is that the entire joint is crawling with two kinds of people, both of whom are irritating to the point that they give me a headache.

On the one hand, you have these self-absorbed health nuts wandering the aisles in their Patagonia walking pants and their Crocs and their hydration packs, zipping to and fro, stopping short at every goddamned free sample hawker (of which there are too many crowding the crowded aisles—a topic for another rant later), all the while wearing these sickeningly smug, self-satisfied smirks on their faces that seem to say “look at me; I’m never going to die”.

On the other hand you have these Patchouli-laden Naropa University poetry majors (hippies) to contend with. These free spirit-types like to float around the aisles—slowly, I might add—in search of tempeh, or flax. They get in the way, and they annoy me when they get upset over my overt displays of displeasure with their aroma and their happy attitude.

I just want to get something with meat in it and get the hell outta there, for chrissakes.

After doing battle with these evil forces for 20 minutes, I have usually lost whatever appetite I had, and my blood pressure is up 20 points to boot. I could actually eat nothing but grass smoothies in that joint and I’d still be unhealthier than if I simply went to El Taco Loco every day as is my wont, simply because the chilled-out groovy healthy climate in Whole Foods drives me NUTSO!

(I guess this is the first post on this website filed under Boulder and complaints. Don’t worry, I still love it here. I just hate everyone in Whole Foods. Oh, and the drivers all suck here too.)

Peter Tomarken, the host of the 80’s TV game show “Press Your Luck”, got himself and his wife killed in a plane crash the other day. The ultimate whammy.

From the eyewitness reports and the wreckage, it appears that he had a problem with the plane shortly after takeoff, apparently lost the engine, and was trying to glide back to the airport, and it just wasn’t in the cards. The sad thing is, they were out over water as they were turning around, and at some point it was probably better to ditch in the water rather than trying to “stretch the glide” to land. Instead of a controlled crash into shallow water, it looks like the pilot stalled the plane and caused the plane to nose over and descend very rapidly into the water; if they weren’t killed on impact they were likely incapacitated and drowned in shallow water.

Additional sadness: the Tomarkens were on an Angel Flight, enroute to pick up a patient in need of air transportation to a distant hospital for treatment. Angel Flight is an organization that organizes volunteer private pilots who fly these flights entirely for free.

Trying to stretch the glide is akin to pressing your luck.