True story or urban legend. You be the judge.
Or as Tom was once reported to have said in his best Henny Youngman style: "Take my nut... please."
Hmmm. My wife said that last time she committed me.
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News flash. I'm telling my friend Matt about this new concept I thought of about someone who somehow keeps track of all the porn sites you visit at work and tries to extort money from you via your own email to not turn you in. It's called "Black-email." Coming up to the horrible neologism "black-email" was the nub of the concept. But, in another example of life being stranger than fiction, it turns out such behavior already exists. Companies hired by other companies to employ monitoring software to keep their employees from working with too much "hardware" have found that their own employees have seen the possibilities of deploying a little xxx-tortion with their newfound knowledge. Man. If you can't trust the vice cops, who can you trust?
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Finally, stupidity continues to burst from the seams of our culture like pus from ripe boil. My friend Rick goes to McDonalds the other day. Orders a coffee. Girl behind the counter says: "To go?" Um. Do I have to decide now? Is there a difference? Are they going to bring out the ceramic Ronald McDonald mug if you elect to stay? Do you have to reserve an unpadded plastic seat? Is the picture for a "non-to go" coffee different from the one for a "to go" coffee on their cartoon cash register? Of course I may be way off here. Knowing McDonalds, it's probably about packaging. It could be a bag issue. Or maybe they just want to skip putting on the soon-to-fall-off-with-the-slightest-provocation-and-burn-your-lap lid.
