http://badnewsradio.com/ The latest transcribed Bad News Radio comics, powered by OhNoRobot.com en-us Sun, 19 Apr 2009 21:00:57 -0000 60 http://badnewsradio.com/story/039.shtml http://badnewsradio.com/story/039.shtml Wed, 21 Feb 2007 05:28:24 -0000 <a href="http://badnewsradio.com/story/039.shtml">39. The bakery</a><br> <br> Harry Ginsberg was a regular at the salon, which was convenient since he owned a bakery across the street. Though he enjoyed the semi-femmy look of manicured hands, the frequent visits were putting a dent in his pocket book. Harry realized that baking alone could not sustain his lavish lifestyle. Despite, his numerous degrees and certificates for outstanding bakering, his business struggled to stay alive. That is until he came up with a brilliant side business that he could operate within the bakery itself: a taxidermy shop. <br \> <br \> Ever since he was a young boy, Harry had always had a passion for slaughtering and stuffing wild game, including, deer, bunnies, raccoons, mice, and pigeons. His mother used to say that that was why his blueberry filled donuts were always so perfectly stuffed. To Harry, taxidermy seemed like a natural, almost obvious, compliment to his baking. <br \> <br \> Not only could Harry stuff wild animals in natural, dynamic poses, but he also specialized in fabricating new and exciting animals from left-over pieces - a scrap of fur here, a bit of antler there... Sometimes people would even bring in two animals, say an falcon and a jack rabbit, and request that Harry combine the two into a more exciting animal that they could show their friends. Afterall, anyone can kill a rabbit or a falcon, but who's ever hunted the ferocious long-eared, beak-faced, furbird! <br \> <br \> Since his taxidermy combinations were so popular, he tried using a similar method with his baking, creating exciting new mixes, like donut-cookies and bread-muffins. The most frequent response he got was "these muffins taste bready." The whole idea never really got past the taste test stage. 39. The bakery

Harry Ginsberg was a regular at the salon, which was convenient since he owned a bakery across the street. Though he enjoyed the semi-femmy look of manicured hands, the frequent visits were putting a dent in his pocket book. Harry realized that baking alone could not sustain his lavish lifestyle. Despite, his numerous degrees and certificates for outstanding bakering, his business struggled to stay alive. That is until he came up with a brilliant side business that he could operate within the bakery itself: a taxidermy shop.

Ever since he was a young boy, Harry had always had a passion for slaughtering and stuffing wild game, including, deer, bunnies, raccoons, mice, and pigeons. His mother used to say that that was why his blueberry filled donuts were always so perfectly stuffed. To Harry, taxidermy seemed like a natural, almost obvious, compliment to his baking.

Not only could Harry stuff wild animals in natural, dynamic poses, but he also specialized in fabricating new and exciting animals from left-over pieces – a scrap of fur here, a bit of antler there… Sometimes people would even bring in two animals, say an falcon and a jack rabbit, and request that Harry combine the two into a more exciting animal that they could show their friends. Afterall, anyone can kill a rabbit or a falcon, but who’s ever hunted the ferocious long-eared, beak-faced, furbird!

Since his taxidermy combinations were so popular, he tried using a similar method with his baking, creating exciting new mixes, like donut-cookies and bread-muffins. The most frequent response he got was “these muffins taste bready.” The whole idea never really got past the taste test stage.]]> http://badnewsradio.com/story/038.shtml http://badnewsradio.com/story/038.shtml Wed, 21 Feb 2007 05:27:52 -0000 <a href="http://badnewsradio.com/story/038.shtml">38. The man in manicure</a><br> <br> Sarah Hubburd worked as a manicurist at one of the few men's only salons in the state of Illinois. To some it might seem strange for men to want or to even understand the benefits of having a manicure. Really, there aren't that many reasons for a man to have a manicure at all. Most men don't where nail polish. Nor do they care about healthy cuticles. And certainly, there are only a small number of men who would like to have gel nails. Needless to say, Sarah had a hard time convincing men to get a manicure. That is, until she realized that most heterosexual men are attracted to women. And seeing as she was indeed a woman, she could use this to her advantage. <br \> <br \> Sarah had watched enough soap operas to know that pretty much all men are attracted to tight clothes with animal prints on them. This is especially true if the animal print article is complimented by faux fur trim. She also believed that the majority of males like bleach-blonde hair, stiletto boots, and breast implants. These were all written off as a business expense. <br \> <br \> Getting the men's attention, however, was only half the battle. Once inside the salon, the men had to be convinced to spend money on nail care. First, she would offer them a seat and get them something to drink. The drink, though a courteous gesture, was used more as a ploy to keep the men seated, since they couldn't politely leave until they had finished their beverage. Hot drinks worked best, as they need to be sipped. Next, she showed them her sales portfolio, an aggressive, carefully put together portfolio entitled "We Put the Man in Manicure!" In it, Sarah outlined three procedures designed to ensure "healthy man hands." She avoided bright colors, especially pinks, assuming that most men would consider them too femmy. Instead, she presented a palette of muted blues and earth tones, in mat or eggshell finish. Truly Sarah was a gifted manicurist as a man could walk out of her salon with hands only slightly less masculine than when he had entered. 38. The man in manicure

Sarah Hubburd worked as a manicurist at one of the few men’s only salons in the state of Illinois. To some it might seem strange for men to want or to even understand the benefits of having a manicure. Really, there aren’t that many reasons for a man to have a manicure at all. Most men don’t where nail polish. Nor do they care about healthy cuticles. And certainly, there are only a small number of men who would like to have gel nails. Needless to say, Sarah had a hard time convincing men to get a manicure. That is, until she realized that most heterosexual men are attracted to women. And seeing as she was indeed a woman, she could use this to her advantage.

Sarah had watched enough soap operas to know that pretty much all men are attracted to tight clothes with animal prints on them. This is especially true if the animal print article is complimented by faux fur trim. She also believed that the majority of males like bleach-blonde hair, stiletto boots, and breast implants. These were all written off as a business expense.

Getting the men’s attention, however, was only half the battle. Once inside the salon, the men had to be convinced to spend money on nail care. First, she would offer them a seat and get them something to drink. The drink, though a courteous gesture, was used more as a ploy to keep the men seated, since they couldn’t politely leave until they had finished their beverage. Hot drinks worked best, as they need to be sipped. Next, she showed them her sales portfolio, an aggressive, carefully put together portfolio entitled “We Put the Man in Manicure!” In it, Sarah outlined three procedures designed to ensure “healthy man hands.” She avoided bright colors, especially pinks, assuming that most men would consider them too femmy. Instead, she presented a palette of muted blues and earth tones, in mat or eggshell finish. Truly Sarah was a gifted manicurist as a man could walk out of her salon with hands only slightly less masculine than when he had entered.]]> http://badnewsradio.com/story/037.shtml http://badnewsradio.com/story/037.shtml Wed, 21 Feb 2007 05:27:13 -0000 <a href="http://badnewsradio.com/story/037.shtml">37. Be mine</a><br> <br> After many sleepless nights, Gerald could wait no longer. He had to complete his project. He was so close and his targeted date was drawing ever closer. He had to remove the rest of his nails, and he had to do it tonight. Problem was, he didn't have any pliers with which he could easily remove the nails from the cuticle bed on his fingers. "Hmm," he thought, "what else? A flat-head screwdriver would be ideal for wedging underneath one's fingernails, but too embarrassed to face his many-tooled neighbor, he settled for the asterisk-shaped screwdriver he had borrowed earlier. <br \> <br \> As he sat there, prying away, he diluted the pain by envisioning the completed project that the fingernails would soon become - a valentine. Indeed, Valentine's Day was fast approaching, leaving little time to construct a heartfelt, homemade card for his soon-to-be sweetheart. Since the woman Gerald had been secretly watching was a manicurist, he thought it adorably appropriate to adhere to the card - instead of glitter or macaroni - fingernail clippings. <br \> <br \> Several hours later, he had removed the remainder of his fingernails. "That wasn't so bad," he mouthed, silently. In thinking this, unfortunately, Gerald jinxed his good luck. Something terribly, terribly bad had occurred, for now it would be months before Gerald would have an excuse to see a manicurist. The valentine was never delivered. 37. Be mine

After many sleepless nights, Gerald could wait no longer. He had to complete his project. He was so close and his targeted date was drawing ever closer. He had to remove the rest of his nails, and he had to do it tonight. Problem was, he didn’t have any pliers with which he could easily remove the nails from the cuticle bed on his fingers. “Hmm,” he thought, “what else? A flat-head screwdriver would be ideal for wedging underneath one’s fingernails, but too embarrassed to face his many-tooled neighbor, he settled for the asterisk-shaped screwdriver he had borrowed earlier.

As he sat there, prying away, he diluted the pain by envisioning the completed project that the fingernails would soon become – a valentine. Indeed, Valentine’s Day was fast approaching, leaving little time to construct a heartfelt, homemade card for his soon-to-be sweetheart. Since the woman Gerald had been secretly watching was a manicurist, he thought it adorably appropriate to adhere to the card – instead of glitter or macaroni – fingernail clippings.

Several hours later, he had removed the remainder of his fingernails. “That wasn’t so bad,” he mouthed, silently. In thinking this, unfortunately, Gerald jinxed his good luck. Something terribly, terribly bad had occurred, for now it would be months before Gerald would have an excuse to see a manicurist. The valentine was never delivered.]]> http://badnewsradio.com/story/036.shtm http://badnewsradio.com/story/036.shtm Wed, 21 Feb 2007 05:26:29 -0000 <a href="http://badnewsradio.com/story/036.shtm">36. Screws and nuts</a><br> <br> Though unknown in the 1930s, seizures are rarely caused by the simultaneous occupancy of primary, or even secondary, colors. In fact, the only color combination recorded to have triggered a seizure was the dual presence of purple and gwab. The seizure was so violent that color scientists discontinued gwab - the less popular of the two colors - within weeks of the incident being published in the medical journals. The blueprints were destroyed and the color has never again been reproduced. There have been efforts in European scientific circles to revive this long lost component of the spectrum, but the consensus among North American intellects seems to be that if it wasn't even as good as purple, what's the point? Quoting color expert, Gerald Ferguson, on the topic, "uhh...um...uhhhh....." <br \> <br \> Gerald Ferguson had always been a little shy around people that he didn't know. Well, that maybe a slight under-exaggeration. Gerald, in fact, hadn't spoken to anyone in over 17 years. The last time that he had opened his mouth and said something to another human being had went so horribly that Gerald vowed to himself never to speak again. He had tried to ask his neighbor Wilson if he could borrow a Phillips head screwdriver and some screws and nuts to fix his kitchen cabinets. But, Gerald accidentally said, "Can I borrow your screws and nuts and a screwdriver?" Not specifying what type of screwdriver he actually wanted, Wilson gave him the asterisk-shaped kind. Mortified and humiliated for not specifying Gerald ended up using his thumbnail to complete the job. <br \> Later that week his thumbnail fell off while scratching his knee. <br \> <br \> Excited, Gerald added the nail to his jar of finger and toenail clippings. "Wow, a whole fingernail," he exclaimed, in his mind of course, having vowed never again to speak. A few more clippings and he would have enough to complete the project he had been dreaming of for years. <br \> <br \> Unable to wait for more nails to grow, Gerald impatiently retrieved the thumbnail from the jar later that day, and carefully, with a nail-clipper, snipped the nail into six clipping-shaped crescents. "Almost," he thought, "almost..." 36. Screws and nuts

Though unknown in the 1930s, seizures are rarely caused by the simultaneous occupancy of primary, or even secondary, colors. In fact, the only color combination recorded to have triggered a seizure was the dual presence of purple and gwab. The seizure was so violent that color scientists discontinued gwab – the less popular of the two colors – within weeks of the incident being published in the medical journals. The blueprints were destroyed and the color has never again been reproduced. There have been efforts in European scientific circles to revive this long lost component of the spectrum, but the consensus among North American intellects seems to be that if it wasn’t even as good as purple, what’s the point? Quoting color expert, Gerald Ferguson, on the topic, “uhh…um…uhhhh…..”

Gerald Ferguson had always been a little shy around people that he didn’t know. Well, that maybe a slight under-exaggeration. Gerald, in fact, hadn’t spoken to anyone in over 17 years. The last time that he had opened his mouth and said something to another human being had went so horribly that Gerald vowed to himself never to speak again. He had tried to ask his neighbor Wilson if he could borrow a Phillips head screwdriver and some screws and nuts to fix his kitchen cabinets. But, Gerald accidentally said, “Can I borrow your screws and nuts and a screwdriver?” Not specifying what type of screwdriver he actually wanted, Wilson gave him the asterisk-shaped kind. Mortified and humiliated for not specifying Gerald ended up using his thumbnail to complete the job.
Later that week his thumbnail fell off while scratching his knee.

Excited, Gerald added the nail to his jar of finger and toenail clippings. “Wow, a whole fingernail,” he exclaimed, in his mind of course, having vowed never again to speak. A few more clippings and he would have enough to complete the project he had been dreaming of for years.

Unable to wait for more nails to grow, Gerald impatiently retrieved the thumbnail from the jar later that day, and carefully, with a nail-clipper, snipped the nail into six clipping-shaped crescents. “Almost,” he thought, “almost…”]]> http://badnewsradio.com/story/035.shtml http://badnewsradio.com/story/035.shtml Wed, 21 Feb 2007 05:25:46 -0000 <a href="http://badnewsradio.com/story/035.shtml">35. Invention of color</a><br> <br> The blue shirt has long been in a staple in the middle-class man's professional wardrobe. However, it had not always been this way. No, back in the 1800's all shirts were simply shades of grey. The blue shirt was a scientific impossibility until 1926 when Thomas Edison invented the color. Edison is rarely credited with this achievement because he was unable to acquire a patent - something to do with a disagreement with Chief of American Patent Distribution, Alexander Kuller. <br \> <br \> The color, originally referred to as a singular object, was created by a complicated process involving many different greys, whites, and of course, light bulbs. The final product resembled what modern day scientists call blue. Interestingly, it was simply called "the color" until1929 when Edison, employing a similar process, invented a second "color." This stunning achievement necessitated a name change for the first as well as a unique name for the second, though both remained under the surname "color." Color one was named by Edison's babbling niece - "bloo bloo" (or blue) - and the second by Edison himself - "polka-dot." Nowadays we know that polka-dot is actually a pattern, though the discovery was revolutionary nonetheless. <br \> <br \> In the years after Edison's great achievement, many other scientists followed suit, creating the colors red and yellow that would later become known as the Primary Colors. Originally the three colors were isolated from each other due to unwarranted fears that if the colors came in contact with each other they may overstimulate the human brain causing life-threatening seizures. 35. Invention of color

The blue shirt has long been in a staple in the middle-class man’s professional wardrobe. However, it had not always been this way. No, back in the 1800’s all shirts were simply shades of grey. The blue shirt was a scientific impossibility until 1926 when Thomas Edison invented the color. Edison is rarely credited with this achievement because he was unable to acquire a patent – something to do with a disagreement with Chief of American Patent Distribution, Alexander Kuller.

The color, originally referred to as a singular object, was created by a complicated process involving many different greys, whites, and of course, light bulbs. The final product resembled what modern day scientists call blue. Interestingly, it was simply called “the color” until1929 when Edison, employing a similar process, invented a second “color.” This stunning achievement necessitated a name change for the first as well as a unique name for the second, though both remained under the surname “color.” Color one was named by Edison’s babbling niece – “bloo bloo” (or blue) – and the second by Edison himself – “polka-dot.” Nowadays we know that polka-dot is actually a pattern, though the discovery was revolutionary nonetheless.

In the years after Edison’s great achievement, many other scientists followed suit, creating the colors red and yellow that would later become known as the Primary Colors. Originally the three colors were isolated from each other due to unwarranted fears that if the colors came in contact with each other they may overstimulate the human brain causing life-threatening seizures.]]> http://badnewsradio.com/story/034.shtml http://badnewsradio.com/story/034.shtml Wed, 21 Feb 2007 05:25:03 -0000 <a href="http://badnewsradio.com/story/034.shtml">34. The blue shirt</a><br> <br> Truthfully, Henry Winsterskill never enjoyed the formal attire that his hefty position in the police service required of him. A tie? Boo. A button-down shirt? Barf. Black pants? Puking. Every morning he grudgingly put on his cursed uniform, scowling and cursing the entire time. His life seemed more desolate and barren with each button the he did up on the pale blue shirt. For three years he suffered. Anything would be reprieve from this torture, he thought. <br \> <br \> Finally, in mid-March, Henry decided, after chafing his neck once again, that it was time to end his miserable existence. He had given suicide much thought over the past couple of years, but he was never satisfied with his options of death. They were all so boring. They'd all been done before. This was a big decision. Arguably the biggest decision that he'd ever have to make - and he wanted to make sure that it was done right. He needed something with some panache. Something memorable. Something that people would tell their grandchildren about. Then, one day while barbecuing some pork chops, it came to him. Oh yes, he thought, this will be the most elaborate suicide this country has ever seen. <br \> <br \> His plan was as follows: Early in the morning he would sneak into the Esso station and fill a large ice cream pail with propane gas. He would then go to the police station and drink the flammable liquid. As his colleagues filtered into work he would stop them outside telling them that he had something very important for them to hear. Once enough people had crowded around to hear him speak he would tell them, "I am so disappointed in all of you! I'm so mad that I just feel like... like, I'm to explode!" - and right at that moment he would lift his fist to his mouth and strike his lighter. KA-BOOM! I'm dead, he chuckled to himself. It was the perfect plan. Perfect except that on the way to the gas station that fateful morning James Schumacher shot Henry in the head and stole his insufferable blue shirt. 34. The blue shirt

Truthfully, Henry Winsterskill never enjoyed the formal attire that his hefty position in the police service required of him. A tie? Boo. A button-down shirt? Barf. Black pants? Puking. Every morning he grudgingly put on his cursed uniform, scowling and cursing the entire time. His life seemed more desolate and barren with each button the he did up on the pale blue shirt. For three years he suffered. Anything would be reprieve from this torture, he thought.

Finally, in mid-March, Henry decided, after chafing his neck once again, that it was time to end his miserable existence. He had given suicide much thought over the past couple of years, but he was never satisfied with his options of death. They were all so boring. They’d all been done before. This was a big decision. Arguably the biggest decision that he’d ever have to make – and he wanted to make sure that it was done right. He needed something with some panache. Something memorable. Something that people would tell their grandchildren about. Then, one day while barbecuing some pork chops, it came to him. Oh yes, he thought, this will be the most elaborate suicide this country has ever seen.

His plan was as follows: Early in the morning he would sneak into the Esso station and fill a large ice cream pail with propane gas. He would then go to the police station and drink the flammable liquid. As his colleagues filtered into work he would stop them outside telling them that he had something very important for them to hear. Once enough people had crowded around to hear him speak he would tell them, “I am so disappointed in all of you! I’m so mad that I just feel like… like, I’m to explode!” – and right at that moment he would lift his fist to his mouth and strike his lighter. KA-BOOM! I’m dead, he chuckled to himself. It was the perfect plan. Perfect except that on the way to the gas station that fateful morning James Schumacher shot Henry in the head and stole his insufferable blue shirt.]]> http://badnewsradio.com/story/033.shtml http://badnewsradio.com/story/033.shtml Wed, 21 Feb 2007 05:24:30 -0000 <a href="http://badnewsradio.com/story/033.shtml">33. Eyeball task force</a><br> <br> The police officer assigned to investigate the case of the impaled eyeballs was James Schumacher. James had had much experience in cases in which eyeballs had been forcefully removed from victim's skulls - often either by poking or pulling the eyeballs whilst in their sockets. The county sheriffs office had an entire division devoted to such cases, which they called "The Task Force on Crimes Against Eyeballs." James had worked his way through their ranks from petty gumshoe to the new Lieutenant. <br \> <br \> He enjoyed his position as Lieutenant because he was allowed to wear a shirt and tie to work, like a real professional. As a gumshoe he was forced to wear a long beige jacket and carry a ridiculously impractical magnifying glass in front of his face to "look for clues." On undercover missions the gumshoe was provided with thick framed glasses with a false nose and moustache attached. Because the Eyeball Task Force was so small and under funded, the glasses sported an ex-gumshoe's old prescription lenses, making it terribly difficult to see anything - especially clues! Indeed, the outfits sported day-to-day by James Schumacher's underlings were so demeaning it's a wonder that Schumacher didn't make adjustments to the dress code. Afterall, it was the dress code that drove Schumacher to murder the previous Lieutenant, Henry Winterskill, so that he could sport the more sophisticated light blue, short-sleeved shirt and horizontal striped tie of small county upper law enforcement. 33. Eyeball task force

The police officer assigned to investigate the case of the impaled eyeballs was James Schumacher. James had had much experience in cases in which eyeballs had been forcefully removed from victim’s skulls – often either by poking or pulling the eyeballs whilst in their sockets. The county sheriffs office had an entire division devoted to such cases, which they called “The Task Force on Crimes Against Eyeballs.” James had worked his way through their ranks from petty gumshoe to the new Lieutenant.

He enjoyed his position as Lieutenant because he was allowed to wear a shirt and tie to work, like a real professional. As a gumshoe he was forced to wear a long beige jacket and carry a ridiculously impractical magnifying glass in front of his face to “look for clues.” On undercover missions the gumshoe was provided with thick framed glasses with a false nose and moustache attached. Because the Eyeball Task Force was so small and under funded, the glasses sported an ex-gumshoe’s old prescription lenses, making it terribly difficult to see anything – especially clues! Indeed, the outfits sported day-to-day by James Schumacher’s underlings were so demeaning it’s a wonder that Schumacher didn’t make adjustments to the dress code. Afterall, it was the dress code that drove Schumacher to murder the previous Lieutenant, Henry Winterskill, so that he could sport the more sophisticated light blue, short-sleeved shirt and horizontal striped tie of small county upper law enforcement.]]> http://badnewsradio.com/story/032.shtml http://badnewsradio.com/story/032.shtml Wed, 21 Feb 2007 05:23:52 -0000 <a href="http://badnewsradio.com/story/032.shtml">32. Blind sight</a><br> <br> Despite Leslie's efforts to fulfill her wicked thoughts with power tools and insincere words, her attempts proved to be in vain. For all that she had worked for her entire life came crashing down in one callous and cruel act. Whether justified or not, Leslie would never recover from that fateful event. <br \> <br \> One afternoon while reluctantly helping an old blind man cross a fairly busy intersection, a series of unfortunate incidents occurred which caused Leslie to reveal her true character. Noticing there was a puddle of water next to the curb Leslie removed her pullover fleece to chivalriously allow the man to cross the puddle without getting a "booter." But, as she pulled the fleece over her head, her undershirt stuck to it, revealing her brassiered breasts to the entire street corner. Mortified, she cussed quietly, then blushed - embarrassed for both exposing herself and her use of foul language, knowing that blind people have super-human hearing. Though the blind man could not see her exposed torso, while swinging his white cane, he bumped one of her breasts, which, for a blind man, is a lot like seeing a breast. His seeing-eye dog also seeing-eyed her nakedness, making her feel twice as violated. At that point, she snapped. Snatching the cane from the blind pervert, she jabbed out both the dog's eyes, then broke the cane over her knee and threw it back at the man. "Enjoy you peeping, now," she yelled to him over the howls of his Golden Retriever. 32. Blind sight

Despite Leslie’s efforts to fulfill her wicked thoughts with power tools and insincere words, her attempts proved to be in vain. For all that she had worked for her entire life came crashing down in one callous and cruel act. Whether justified or not, Leslie would never recover from that fateful event.

One afternoon while reluctantly helping an old blind man cross a fairly busy intersection, a series of unfortunate incidents occurred which caused Leslie to reveal her true character. Noticing there was a puddle of water next to the curb Leslie removed her pullover fleece to chivalriously allow the man to cross the puddle without getting a “booter.” But, as she pulled the fleece over her head, her undershirt stuck to it, revealing her brassiered breasts to the entire street corner. Mortified, she cussed quietly, then blushed – embarrassed for both exposing herself and her use of foul language, knowing that blind people have super-human hearing. Though the blind man could not see her exposed torso, while swinging his white cane, he bumped one of her breasts, which, for a blind man, is a lot like seeing a breast. His seeing-eye dog also seeing-eyed her nakedness, making her feel twice as violated. At that point, she snapped. Snatching the cane from the blind pervert, she jabbed out both the dog’s eyes, then broke the cane over her knee and threw it back at the man. “Enjoy you peeping, now,” she yelled to him over the howls of his Golden Retriever.]]> http://badnewsradio.com/story/031.shtml http://badnewsradio.com/story/031.shtml Wed, 21 Feb 2007 05:23:20 -0000 <a href="http://badnewsradio.com/story/031.shtml">31. Power tool decor</a><br> <br> The sadistic hit Hostel, released in Spring 2006, quickly became Leslie's all-time favorite movies. Now, many people will have a drink of scotch or whiskey after work to unwind. For Leslie, instead, it was this film that she would watch everyday to relax from the day's tedious and annoying events. She loved the scenes with the power tools. In fact, she squealed in excitement when she heard the buzz of a chainsaw or the soothing hum of a power drill. Yes, she had always enjoyed her power tools, although, so rarely did she ever find a use for them. <br \> <br \> Even so, Leslie was simply unable to help herself. Anytime that she drove past the local Home Depot, it would be like a tractor beam sucking her into the parking lot and through the sliding doors. "I could really use this Hilti Single-Cartridge Powder-Actuated .22 Caliber Tool. Oh, and this MAXX SST Series 3000 Watt Marine Power Inverter would look so good in the foyer," she would fantasize. She spent thousands of dollars every week at Home Depot, coming home with arms filled with unknown and mysterious appliances. It was true that Leslie had no idea what the majority of her purchases even did. Early on she had bought the usual power tools: the DeWalt 1/2 Inch 14.4 V Compact Standard Drill with Driver Bit, the RIDGID Reconditioned 12 Inch Sliding Compound Miter Saw with Exactline Laser, the Black & Decker Cyclone 4-in-1 Multi Sander - you know, the necessities. However, beyond these first few initial purchases, her latter ones were completely foreign to her. She had no idea what a Biscuit joiner is or how or why to use a Router. So instead she began decorating her house with her purchases. She replaced her Victorian coffee table with a Delta Machinery Unisaw 3 hp Left Tilt Table Saw with Biesemeyer Fence. She substituted the crystal globe lamp with a HUSKY Garage Spotlight. Oh yes, her interior decorating was finally coming together. 31. Power tool decor

The sadistic hit Hostel, released in Spring 2006, quickly became Leslie’s all-time favorite movies. Now, many people will have a drink of scotch or whiskey after work to unwind. For Leslie, instead, it was this film that she would watch everyday to relax from the day’s tedious and annoying events. She loved the scenes with the power tools. In fact, she squealed in excitement when she heard the buzz of a chainsaw or the soothing hum of a power drill. Yes, she had always enjoyed her power tools, although, so rarely did she ever find a use for them.

Even so, Leslie was simply unable to help herself. Anytime that she drove past the local Home Depot, it would be like a tractor beam sucking her into the parking lot and through the sliding doors. “I could really use this Hilti Single-Cartridge Powder-Actuated .22 Caliber Tool. Oh, and this MAXX SST Series 3000 Watt Marine Power Inverter would look so good in the foyer,” she would fantasize. She spent thousands of dollars every week at Home Depot, coming home with arms filled with unknown and mysterious appliances. It was true that Leslie had no idea what the majority of her purchases even did. Early on she had bought the usual power tools: the DeWalt 1/2 Inch 14.4 V Compact Standard Drill with Driver Bit, the RIDGID Reconditioned 12 Inch Sliding Compound Miter Saw with Exactline Laser, the Black & Decker Cyclone 4-in-1 Multi Sander – you know, the necessities. However, beyond these first few initial purchases, her latter ones were completely foreign to her. She had no idea what a Biscuit joiner is or how or why to use a Router. So instead she began decorating her house with her purchases. She replaced her Victorian coffee table with a Delta Machinery Unisaw 3 hp Left Tilt Table Saw with Biesemeyer Fence. She substituted the crystal globe lamp with a HUSKY Garage Spotlight. Oh yes, her interior decorating was finally coming together.]]> http://badnewsradio.com/story/030.shtml http://badnewsradio.com/story/030.shtml Wed, 21 Feb 2007 05:22:46 -0000 <a href="http://badnewsradio.com/story/030.shtml">30. A quick embrace?</a><br> <br> It is important to note that the quickness of a "quick embrace" is relevant to the person or thing being embraced. For instance, as dogs live many years less than the average human, it is logical to believe that time seemingly moves a great deal quicker for them. What would be a considered a short hug between human beings, then, might seem like a painstakingly dragged out squeeze for an Irish Setter. With trees it is the same. One must be sure to hug a Giant Red Wood for a great deal longer than a temporary Christmas tree in order to ensure each receives a hug length that would qualify within reasonable parameters of a "quick embrace." <br \> <br \> Now, some people may think that such details are a waste of time to think about. This is true. Undoubtedly, it takes an especially considerate person to come to conclusions such as these. Perhaps in the whole history of the world, there has only been one person considerate enough to calculate relevant tree hug times. And that person's name was Leslie Fishburne. <br \> <br \> Leslie was so considerate, in fact, that she had on several occasions helped an old lady across the street, shared her delicious beverages with others, and even given money to homeless people. She prided herself on being as kind as possible. Even when she had had a bad day and felt like pushing the old lady into the gutter, she would still be friendly and help her out. She buried her rage, and she did it well. Most everyone who knew Leslie would agree that she was almost unbearably, insultingly kind. <br \> <br \> Many people viewed her kindness with suspicion. At restaurants, she would see a neighboring diner eyeing her mouth-watering entrée and offer them a taste. "Here have a bite," she would say. Nervously, the diner would take a small nibble off her fork, like a dog would take a treat from an abusive owner, not knowing whether it would be beaten for its actions. And they were right to be skeptical, Leslie often fantasized at impaling the on-looker with her fork or 'accidentally' throwing her tea on them. Alas, her cool outward composure always, if only just barely, covered her twisted inward thoughts of murder and mayhem. 30. A quick embrace?

It is important to note that the quickness of a “quick embrace” is relevant to the person or thing being embraced. For instance, as dogs live many years less than the average human, it is logical to believe that time seemingly moves a great deal quicker for them. What would be a considered a short hug between human beings, then, might seem like a painstakingly dragged out squeeze for an Irish Setter. With trees it is the same. One must be sure to hug a Giant Red Wood for a great deal longer than a temporary Christmas tree in order to ensure each receives a hug length that would qualify within reasonable parameters of a “quick embrace.”

Now, some people may think that such details are a waste of time to think about. This is true. Undoubtedly, it takes an especially considerate person to come to conclusions such as these. Perhaps in the whole history of the world, there has only been one person considerate enough to calculate relevant tree hug times. And that person’s name was Leslie Fishburne.

Leslie was so considerate, in fact, that she had on several occasions helped an old lady across the street, shared her delicious beverages with others, and even given money to homeless people. She prided herself on being as kind as possible. Even when she had had a bad day and felt like pushing the old lady into the gutter, she would still be friendly and help her out. She buried her rage, and she did it well. Most everyone who knew Leslie would agree that she was almost unbearably, insultingly kind.

Many people viewed her kindness with suspicion. At restaurants, she would see a neighboring diner eyeing her mouth-watering entrée and offer them a taste. “Here have a bite,” she would say. Nervously, the diner would take a small nibble off her fork, like a dog would take a treat from an abusive owner, not knowing whether it would be beaten for its actions. And they were right to be skeptical, Leslie often fantasized at impaling the on-looker with her fork or ‘accidentally’ throwing her tea on them. Alas, her cool outward composure always, if only just barely, covered her twisted inward thoughts of murder and mayhem.]]>