Guess this guy hasn't watched enough CSI:

A state forensics scientist who said she tested DNA in her husband's underwear to find out whether he was cheating could be disciplined if investigators determine she violated the use of state equipment.

Ann Chamberlain-Gordon of Okemos testified in a March 7 divorce hearing that she ran the test in September on the underwear of Charles Gordon Jr. Asked by his attorney what she found, she answered: “Another female. It wasn't me.''

These clowns obviously aren’t “for” the people.  Throw the bums out next time around:

Just 16% of American voters now say that Congress is doing a Good (14%) or an Excellent (2%) job. That’s down from 19% in mid-June and from 26% at the end of May. Today, 35% say Congress is doing a Fair job while 46% say Poor

I knew it wasn't really a weather ballon:

Lieutenant Walter Haut was the public relations officer at the base in 1947 and was the man who issued the original and subsequent press releases after the crash on the orders of the base commander, Colonel William Blanchard.

Haut died last year but left a sworn affidavit to be opened only after his death.

Last week, the text was released and asserts that the weather balloon claim was a cover story and that the real object had been recovered by the military and stored in a hangar.

Idiot stands nearby to watch and film a firework factory go up in flames.  He didn't survive.

An invasion of Chinese rubber duckies that is:

The armada of 29,000 plastic yellow ducks, blue turtles and green frogs broke free from a cargo ship 15 years ago.

Since then they have travelled 17,000 miles, floating over the site where the Titanic sank, landing in Hawaii and even spending years frozen in an Arctic ice pack.

And now they are heading straight for Britain. At some point this summer they are expected to be spotted on beaches in South-West England.

Someone in San Fransisco who isn't completely insane:

This country was founded on blowing stuff up, and 231 years later it continues to be the thing that we do best. And yet in the past few decades, almost every Bay Area municipality has banned the use of fireworks within city limits. It's like we don't even want to be Americans anymore.

I see two choices: Either we all start learning to speak French, or we bring the Bay Area back to the stocked-with-fireworks glory that we all enjoyed in the 1970s and 1980s. Not next week. Not after a bunch of politicians have a chance to assemble focus groups and hear public comment for three years. Right. Freaking. Now.

Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger can build secret execution chambers at San Quentin. He can certainly declare some kind of statewide emergency to legalize fireworks. Think about that for a second. We're the most badass state in the most badass nation on the planet. Our governor once removed his own retina with a scalpel, then drove his car into a police precinct and gunned down all the cops inside. (Technically, it was a role he was playing. But still … .) You're telling me I can't light up one measly sparkler on my backyard patio without receiving a $1,000 fine?

 Fuck firework bans!

So, how was YOUR first sexual experience?

The teen says that the woman got into their car, and performed oral sex on him in the back seat while his friend drove. They ended up near a lifeguard tower on the island of Palm Beach after midnight. According to the 17-year-old, the woman was on top of him when he saw something he didn't expect under her bikini bottom.

This just in:

OriginalUnoriginal.com was spawned from a heady brew of sarcasm, apathy, indifference and ennui. A virtual embodiment of post-post-deconstructionist Gen-Next tweener irony, its intent was to be the largest, most successful online purveyor of inane falsification – but without actually attempting in any way to appear fixated on that success. “We hoped to become notorious without indulging in notoriety,” explained Hermes Cummingson, Editor in Abstentia.

“Never underestimate,” Cummingson continued “the power of a group of motivated individuals to affect change among an overwhelmingly disinterested and detached populace, especially if your definition of change means creating a nano-second’s distraction from de rigeur obsessions like snack food, sitcoms and gas prices, tempered by unrealistic indulgence in absurdities like professional sports and soft-core pornography.”

Indeed, Cummingson and his compatriots revel in those rare moments when one of the nameless, faceless denizens of the Internet decide, for the merest moment, to stop hunting for free clips of “Facial Domination” or take five from managing the rosters of their fantasy DARPA  League teams to digest whatever hit-and-run piffle OU is spewing that particular instant. So much the better, he adds, if it’s forwarded from someone in their carpool or adjacent cubicle.

Poised to become one of the recognizable sources of online inanity, OU could ultimately give two royal shits. Seriously. If you’re reading this, it’s because you’re craving a few seconds of mirthful distraction. You have a full understanding that everything is essentially crap, but willingly suspend your rationale with the hope that you’ll forget you’re trapped on a rat’s-wheel of futility.

Actually, you don’t suspend your rationale. You take your rationale, tie it to a tree in the back yard, and beat it to within an inch of its life – all for the sake of numbing the fact that in another few seconds, you have to get back to balancing accounts, tracking shipments, engaging in quality assurance, studying for whatever worthless degree your parents are paying for, or any number of ultimately transparent pursuits.

Feel better? Good. Now, take twenty steps back, get a running start, and jump up your own asshole.