Man Takes A Pistol to Bristol

Once upon a time (Monday night), as I was quietly munching on broccoli lasagna, a 66-year-old man in a town that is seriously called Black Earth, Wisconsin, was sitting on his couch watching “Dancing with the Stars” with his wife.    Suddenly, when Bristol Palin entered the screen to perform a Viennese Waltz to the Passion of the Christ theme song, the man got really, really, balls-crazy pissed about her poor dancing skills, and this happened:

“Cowan jumped up and swore as Bristol Palin appeared, saying something about ‘the (expletive) politics.’ Cowan was upset that a political figure’s daughter was on the show when he didn’t think she was a good dancer, the complaint states.

Cowan went upstairs for about 20 minutes and returned, demanding his pistols, which had been taken by his daughter about a month ago for safety reasons. He was carrying a single-shot shotgun, which he loaded and fired into the television.

Cowan continued to yell, demanding his pistols. He re-loaded the shotgun and pointed it toward his wife. She left the house and drove to Black Earth, where she called 911. She told police she was afraid for her safety.

Cowan kept sheriff’s deputies at bay outside his home until 11 a.m. Tuesday, when he surrendered without incident.”

I’m sorry, did you say WITHOUT INCIDENT?  The man (whom I will be referring to as “Lover” from here on out) put a bullet in his telly and held himself hostage for FIFTEEN HOURS over Bristol Palin’s dance routine.  Sounds like a pretty goddamn remarkable incident to me.

How angry do you have to be to actually get out of your chair, walk up the stairs, load your pistol, walk it back down the stairs, and fire a bullet into your TV?  Sometimes when I’m watching really bad reality shows, I can’t even drum up the motivation to get up and pee.  Lover was obviously really, veins-popping-out-of-his-forehead upset over this!

As a reporter by trade, I’ve really had to fight the urge not to track him down myself for an interview, or at least call the police department for comment.  I should definitely refrain from doing that, but just in case the opportunity presents itself (ahem), I’ve jotted down a few follow-up questions I’d like to ask him:

1. How was your weekend, Lover?

2. What did you think of Jennifer Grey’s Cha Cha routine?

3. Were you as attracted to Patrick Swayze in the 80′s as I was, or is this getting too personal?

4. What would have had to happen on Dancing with the Stars for you to actually shoot your wife in the face, as you threatened?  Would a really shitty tango by Dick Cheney’s daughter do the trick, or is there something about Bristol in particular that ruffles your feathers?

5. Boxers or briefs? Do you wax your back?

Sigh.  Honestly, I didn’t think there was a man in this country who could possibly be as passionate about “Dancing with the Stars” as I am, and now that I know he exists, I’ll never be the same.

Crackheads to Jeremy London: ‘Hit This Or I’ll Kill You’

Haha, remember that time you were changing a tire and a bunch of crackheads kidnapped you, forced you to smoke crack at gunpoint and then made you buy liquor and distribute it to their friends?

Yea, me neither.  But actor Jeremy London (Mallrats, Party of Five), who has a history of drug and alcohol problems, claims this is exactly what happened to him last Thursday night.  He was just innocently changing his tire when two men stopped to help him.

“After the tire was changed he offered to drive them home, and it was then they held him at gunpoint and drove him around terrorizing him for hours.

‘He told officers (during the kidnapping) that he was forced to smoke dope [crack cocaine or amphetamines] and then purchase booze and hand it out in a gang area of Palm Springs,’ a policeman told Radar.

Luckily London managed to escape around 3 a.m. Thursday, five hours after his kidnapping. His car was later found and two men were charged with the kidnapping Wednesday.”

…Hmm.  In case you find yourself questioning the possibility that a rogue group of crack dealers is running around forcing people to smoke their drugs for free, rest assured that you’re not alone.  Jeremy’s wife Melissa (who also has a history of drug problems) is one step ahead of you:

“Jeremy claims that the kidnappers told him, ‘Hit this! Hit this or I’m gonna kill you!’ while holding a gun to his head and forcing him to smoke some sort of drug.

Melissa addressed the doubters, citing a new wave of crime.

‘I just hope this never happens to them,’ she [said]. ‘Police told us this is the new thing to do down here… rob people at gunpoint and make them do drugs so they won’t be reliable witnesses. It’s happening more and more. I can tell you that Jeremy was scared for his life. He’s still scared.’

Hit this or I’m gonna kill you?  If I had a nickel every time I heard that from a gang of crackheads trying to get me to buy liquor for them and drive around getting high all night.

I’m sorry– if this whole bizarre ordeal really happened to Jeremy London, then I feel really bad for him and hope that justice is served.  But right now I find the naivety of the police force far more frightening than the overzealous crack dealers in Compton.  A rich white actor rolls in, claims some black dudes robbed him and forced him to smoke crack, and their immediate response is to arrest the dudes and ask Jeremy London if he’s OK.

No, he’s not OK– he’s coming down from a major crack bender.  Please get him some Advil, sunglasses, Vitamin water, greasy food, and a couple extra bodyguards.  Next time this happens, he might not be in such a forgiving mood.

Why Does Tom Brady Have a Bowl Cut?

Tom Brady showed up to the Celtics vs. Lakers game last week looking like a strange cross between Justin Bieber, David Cassidy, and me when I was 4.

I have nothing to say about this haircut, except that I will hereon refer to it as the “Superbowl.”

Is There A Worse Way To Die Than This?

A man in China has died after an eel that was inserted into his rectum ate through his intestines, causing internal bleeding.  The Guanabee article reads:

The 59 year-old chef–whose name has not been disclosed– was taken to a Sischuan hospital with severe anal bleeding, abdominal pain. Local doctors, unable to figure out what was causing the symptoms obtained permission from the family to conduct a laparotomy– a surgical incision into the abdominal wall done to examine the abdominal organs.

Once inside, the doctors found a 50cm long, dead Asian swamp eel stuck in the man’s rectal region. The slithery fish had bit it’s way through the intestine. The man was then taken to the intensive care unit, but died ten days later from internal bleeding and sepsis.

But how did the eel end up in the man’s anus? According to reports, the chef had consumed copious amounts of eel the day before, but doctors couldn’t figure out how a live eel ended up in his rectum. Eventually, his friends confessed to have inserted the live eel up his anus as a joke after the man passed out from drinking heavily.

I mean, I’ve heard of some crazy practical jokes, but this is by FAR the least acceptable of them all.  When your drunk friend passes out, you take a permanent marker and draw a penis on his face.  You don’t stick a live, flesh-eating eel up his butt.

China continues to impress me with its general absurdity and awesomeness.

The Breast Milk Supremacy

I would normally hesitate to write a post about breast milk, for the sake of all my male readers, but it made national headlines not once, but twice over the past couple weeks.

First, I stumbled upon this article about a Kentucky woman who was charged with assault after deliberately squirting her breast milk into the face of a female cop at the jail where she was being held for public intoxication. The officer then had to decontaminate herself from the “bio-hazard,” and the woman was charged with a felony on top of her misdemeanor.

What I find particularly interesting about that article is that it tries to treat the subject of breast milk assault as a serious cultural problem:

“Reports of the case have sparked debates about whether using breast milk as a weapon should constitute a felony assault case, with many readers likening it to an accused person spitting on an officer.

Also sparking feedback has been the use of the term “bio-hazard” to describe breast milk.”

The article does raise an interesting point about the felony classification, although I’m not sure anyone could argue that spraying your breast milk in someone’s face is equivalent to spitting on them. People spit on people all the time, but this is the first time in my life that I’ve ever heard of breast milk being used as a weapon. You disrespect me?!  I squeeze my boob at you!  …No, not a normal response.

As to the second point, I think it’s a bit of a stretch to call breast milk a bio-hazard, considering the fact that it exists for the purpose of nurturing new-born infants.  The female officer demanded to be “decontaminated” after being attacked with what is essentially baby-food… isn’t that a bit of an overreaction?  I mean, unless she’s severely lactose intolerant, she probably could have just taken a hot shower.  I mean, sure, it would be pretty alarming at first if some random drunk woman in prison sprayed her breast milk on me.  But I would probably be more concerned about the fact that she had been drinking while pregnant in the first place.  Maybe that’s just me.

In other alarming news, Chef Daniel Angerer of Klee Brasserie in New York City has been serving his customers a ricotta-like cheese made from his wife’s breast milk.  The NY Post article reads:

This Chelsea restaurant has gone from brasserie to brassiere.

Chef Daniel Angerer is letting diners at Klee Brasserie munch on cheese made from his wife’s breast milk.

“It tastes like cow’s-milk cheese, kind of sweet,” he told The Post.

The flavor depends on what the cheese is served with — Angerer recommends a Riesling — and “what the mother eats,” said Angerer, who once bested Bobby Flay on TV’s “Iron Chef.”

Breast milk doesn’t curdle well due to its low protein content, so a little moo juice has to be added to round out the texture, Angerer said.

After blogging about his efforts with the human cheese, customers started demanding a sample, he said.

“The phone was ringing off the hook,” the chef said. “So I prepared a little canapé of breast-milk cheese with figs and Hungarian pepper.”

The response has been generally positive from those who’ve tried the cheese, although many customers are too squeamish to attempt it.

“I think a lot of the criticism has to do with the combination of sex and cheese, but . . . the breast is there to make food,” said Lori Mason, the chef’s wife.

Since the restaurant began offering customers a taste, Mason has been inundated with creepy queries, she said.

“Some people who clearly have issues have . . . e-mailed me saying, ‘I wasn’t breast-fed as a child, so can I taste your breast milk?’ ” she said.

Mason politely declines the offer.

“I’m not here to walk people through their psychological problems,” she said.

That said, Mason is now prodding her husband to make gelato.

Haha– “I think a lot of the criticism has to do with the combination of sex and cheese,” the chef’s wife said.  Um, no, I think people are fine with combining sex and cheese.  The problem is that the cheese was produced in a human body.  We don’t fry up human legs, we don’t roast human rumps, and we don’t make cheese out of human breast milk.  Period.

Honestly, I’m not sure there are any circumstances under which I would pay money to eat breast-milk cheese, even though Reisling is my favorite wine.

As to the issue of random people emailing this woman to ask if they can taste her breast milk, maybe she should direct them all to that drunk pregnant woman in Kansas.  I’m sure she would be more than willing to squirt it in their faces upon request.

Ok, this post just got weird.  I’m out.