I used to wonder how the writers for The Daily Show, The Colbert Report, the Late Show with David Letterman, The Tonight Show, and other topical comedy programs managed to come up with so much fresh material every night. But no more. There's so much fodder being pumped out through the Internet, even I could come up with 30 minutes' worth of laughs. Consider just a few stories I came across today:
Flake on a Plane: How can you not laugh at the nonstop network "news" coverage of the supposed killer of JonBenet Ramsey, including breathless reports on what he ate (prawns!!!!) on the plane returning him to the States. Heck, just show a couple of minutes of Nancy Grace's near-orgasmic interrogation of her various nutjob guests. Comedy gold.
Shock and Oy: Many Iraeli reservists who were called into action in the Lebanon incursion returned to Israel and immediately began staging protest demonstrations demanding the resignation of the prime minister, the defense minister, and the army chief of staff. Apparently they were members of the Fighting Chutzpah Battalion.
I Will Always Love You: I bet you didn't know Osama bin Laden is smitten with Whitney Houston. Me neither, but Kola Boof, a Sudanese poet and novelist who claims to have once been bin Laden's sex slave, wrote in her just-released autobiography, Diary of a Slave Girl, that bin Laden was so in love with America's favorite crackhead chanteuse that he was considering putting a hit on Houston's hubby, Bobby Brown. Guess that's his prerogative.
Four-play: And to top off the day's news, not one but two stories about men with two penises. A man in India who was born with an extra trouser snake (a condition called diphallus) is having an operation to remove one. Meanwhile, a man in Germany had one added on (an operation Tim Sampson used to call an "addadictomy"). The German's wife left him when he came home from the hospital. A case, apparently, where two heads were not better than one.
Badump-bump. Try the veal, folks. I'll be here all week.
Bruce VanWyngarden, Editor
It's deep in a November night in Memphis, and I'm awakened by rain. It's coming down hard, sounding like a million pebbles hitting the roof. The gutter I've been meaning to clean is overflowing outside the bedroom window. A flash of lightning illuminates the room, and I do what I've done since I was a boy: count the seconds 'til the thunder rolls. I get almost to 10 before I hear a distant rumble. Two miles or so. Someone else's lightning ...
I'm writing this from the restroom facility at Big Hill Pond State Park in southern McNairy County. On Monday, I commandeered the building, which contains the men's and women's restrooms, some racks of pamphlets, and two vending machines. There's no one here right now, but I plan to stay as long as necessary to protest the fact that the state of Tennessee is run by oppressive know-nothings who wouldn't know small government — or freedom, for that matter — if it bit them on their considerable backsides ...