That whole U2 iPod thing seems like a really great gift idea. It's sleek and black. It has that cool red wheel thing. It holds 5,000 songs. But there's a problem -- it comes with U2's new album on it. Fear not! Perhaps the fine folks at Apple can take some inspiration from this page and roll out some new artist-inspired iPod goodies. Personally, we can't wait for the GG Allin iPod.

Maybe you're having a crap day. Maybe you had too much to drink this week and have been stuck with a rolling hangover for months now. Maybe you're convinced the boss is about to fire you. Maybe your landlord called to say the rent check bounced. Maybe this is all happening at the same time. All you need to do is watch this bunny sing a song called "Everyone Has Had More Sex Than Me" and you'll feel better. We promise.

While trying to determine exactly which creatures made up the River Bottom Nightmare Band from Emmett Otter's Jug-Band Christmas, we stumbled across another prime example of what the Internet is good for. The Rocklopedia Fakebandica takes you from The A Men (featured on King of the Hill) to Zorak, the keyboardist on Space Ghost: Coast to Coast. What could lead you on more pointless tail-chasing than a site about fictional bands and musical acts on fictional TV shows? Just the sort of afternoon activity for your I-got-drunk-at-the-office-party-and-made-out-with-Doug-from-accounting
self.

Every holiday season, you get roped into that game of Monopoly. At first, it's pleasant -- you get to be the the thimble. Weee! Flash forward seven hours later, well after the apple pie, brownies and sugar cookies have been demolished, and you're still in some basement rec room calling Uncle Larry a "fucking douchebag" and telling him he can stick those little green houses up his ass. We know how it is. This year, use mathematical probability and kick his teeth in.

If you ever sat around wondering why Canada has produced so many incredible comedians, Ann Coulter is here to reveal the answer. Because we provide our neighbors to the north with such amazing material to work with. In this clip, Miss Coulter explains why Canadians are lucky to be on the same continent as America, you know, even though we stole their national sport and railroaded it straight into the ground.

There's nothing better than playing a game of "superhero." Running around the backyard, arms spread wide, homemade cape flapping in the breeze as you pretend to fly and vanquish the evil monsters that threaten the safety of the free world. There's nothing better than that ... when you're five years old. But when you're 55 years old and living on a steady diet of Hot Pockets, weekend visitations and alimony payments, it's probably time to give up the ghost.

When we have grandkids, we'll try to explain the concept of the one man band and how entralling it was that one dude with a big drum, some cymbals between his thighs and a harmonica could play little tunes while shuffling around asking for change at tourist spots. Then, they'll look at us like we're insane because they live in the far-off future, a time where a magical mullet man named McRorie is worshipped as a god.

Show your love to friends and relatives this holiday season by hanging your balls around their neck. In the form of a sterling silver scrotum pendant, that is. Or, to use the brand name, buy 'em some "ballsies." Because the person who has everything sure as hell doesn't have testicle-themed jewlery.

Bug out, man. Today, after you chug half a bottle of Robitussin at work, go and visit this site. Use your mouse to pull yourself into the pretty picture and weeee! You'll wake up sometime around lunch, when it's time to chug the rest of the Robo, you can drag the mouse in the other direction and fly backwards. And people say the Internet is a total waste of time.

It's always great to teach lesser species new tricks. We fully support apes who know sign language and dogs for the blind. But why would you teach a chimpanzee karate, a form of self-defense? Who, exactly, does the chimpanzee need defense against? No one ... except us! The proliferation of karate knowing chimps has to stop before they band together and enslave humankind. This is exactly how Planet of the Apes happened. You have been warned.

Of all the things the Internet is good at, celebrating less acceptable hairstyles may be the best. It was the Web, and the Web alone, that drove the mullet revival. And since then, we've seen shines to combovers, people who look like Kenny Rogers and white people with afros. With this in mind, we proudly present this month's "Samson." Take note of his hair care tips... and please, check out the rest of the site.

Birthday clowns have a 20-to-1 shot of traumatizing a kid. This is a fact. Las Vegas keeps odds on these kind of things, we're sure. But it's a little known fact that petting zoos can be equally traumatic. One minute you're feeding smelly brown pellets to the goat and the next ... well ... we just can't talk about that right now.

Sometimes, you just have to know when to say when and turn your back on the things that you love. Whether that be leaving your eight-year-old standing at a truck stop with a melting ice cream cone begging for change, or neatly folding up those acid-washed jeans and handing them to the nearest destitute human. Yes, it really hurts to let go and walk away. But you must do it anyway, because society can never improve unless we shed old skin to make room for a new layer.

If you haven't seen "Sorry Everybody" yet because nobody sent you the link -- or they did send you a link and the site was down -- consider yourself a somebody, because the site has been redone and now anybody and everybody can once again revel in its brilliance. And so without further ado...

Terry lost his frog. The frog's name was Hopkin Green Frog. Have you seen his frog? Who took his frog? Terry will find his frog. He is engaged in a coast-to-coast campaign -- with a very fine illustration of Hopkin Green Frog -- to find Hopkin Green Frog. Have you seen his frog? Did you take his frog?

Sometimes the title of a movie gives the whole joke away. And other times, the title is merely an indication of how good the joke truly is. When it comes to the five-minute short film, "A Ninja Pays Half My Rent," the title scratches the surface. Oh, go ahead. Take that big break today and watch TV on your computer at work. Tell them we said it was okay.

Billy's mom was willing to overlook the subtle whiff of Southern Comfort eminating from Chuckles the Clown, because the kids were having a real good time honking his nose. And she was able to ignore the fact that Billy's dad completely missed the party, never even called and caused his little boy to cry before the guests showed. But after Garry, her new boyfriend, showed up with that pinata, well, no amount of Xanax and white zinfandel could make things feel okay again.

As the crushing reality of four more years of Bush begins to set in, one freedom we all have is the right to forego underpants. And this group, the Freeballers of America, is interested in protection and promoting this right, which may or may not be covered by the Second Amendment. The punchline here, obviously, is that freeballers have a support group.

In this post-modern, irony-drenched, insta-kitsch, futuristic wasteland of hip we're forced to wade through, new things that seem old are cooler than new things that look new. That is, until the new-old things become popular and turn into old-new-old things and then people check out the new-new or newer new-old things as potential sources of cool. Confused? So are we. Here, look at this. Some motherfuckers made a retro looking cellphone with a cord.

This link has nothing to do with baseball, curses, World Series wins or any of the other nonsense that has hijacked lives over the last month. All that crap is blissfully over and we can get down to the really important thing: Planning our Halloween costume.

If you're ever in the market for a frozen dead animal, be aware that there's an Internet superstore that caters to your needs. At FrozenCritters.com, you can get it all. Big animals, little animals, snakes -- all of which are extremely dead and very frozen. The prices are reasonable, too. Valentine's Day is coming up fast. Why don't you plunk down $25 for a frozen baby skunk? After all, who doesn't love baby animals! Us? We're gonna buy us a mountain goat nanny for $800, then take turns riding it in the living room while watching DVDs. Yeehaw!

As political commentary, this little clip really doesn't add much to the debate. Yes, Republicans chronically invoke all kinds of scary language to remind us all of how dangerous the world is. But the Democrats do too -- and really, the world can be a scary place, especially if you live in a hipster neighborhood. (Legwarmers are back. Again.) And yet, somewhere towards the end of the end of this clip, hearing the word terrorist over and over and over and over and over becomes the funniest thing ever. Proof that repetition makes the hard grow fonder.

Jay J. Armes is not a household name, but he should be. You see, Mr. Armes' hands were blown off in a dynamite accident when he was a kid and now he goes about his business using a pair of hooks instead. And what is that business? Mr. Armes is a private investigator -- he rescued Marlon Brando's kid when he was kidnapped -- and likes to take care of his pet tiger and pet cheetah in his spare time. Once upon the 1970s, Mr. Armes was a cultural icon, with his own action figure and appearing in Hawaii 5-0. We pray he makes another comeback.

"Ah what a beautiful day. Smell the salt air. That's a big one. Glad I wore these pants. Okay, there's that mushroom. Maybe if I stand perfectly still he'll pass right by me. That was awkward. Okay Steve, just stay cool. There's that cat … in a tuxedo … surfing. Moving on. Oooh. Aerobics dance challenge. Nice moves. Boo-yah! Oh Steve, you have got moves..."

Tupac Shakur isn't dead. He's just stuffed inside of a purple dinosaur costume, entertaining children and laying low for a while. If the fact Tupac has released 38 records "posthumously" wasn't enough to convince you he was very much alive and well, take a good long look at this little rap video he shot while on a break at his new job. Convincing, no? And if we're wrong about the whole "Tupac Lives" thing, then that means Barney is one thug-ass motherfucker. And if that is the case, we'd like to apologize to Barney for any jokes made at his expense. Sorry, B. Don't kill us.

Is there a more indavertently funnier human than Gary Busey? For starters, the man is 47% teeth. When he talks, you have no idea what kind of madness is gonna pour out of his mouth. He's like some kind of freakish mutant hybrid of Nick Nolte and Christopher Walken. And that makes us really happy. So does this magical little video, which harnesses the power of Gary Busey for the forces of good, as part of a political satire called "Leave it to Busey."

His name is Frank DeLarzelere, but you might know him as the "Biker Fox," male model and bicycle enthusiast. What Biker Fox lacks in muscle definition and hair on top of his head, he makes up with a plucky, "Ain't nothin' gonna break my stride, ain't nothin' gonna slow me down..." mentality. Consider Biker Fox's philosophy: "The secret to happiness is telling yourself you are happy, even when you are not." Is this is a sign he's utterly delusional, or is the true secret to shrugging off the blues? With a grin like that and his overwhelming enthusiasm for posing -- check out the cheesecake photos! -- maybe the Biker Fox is on to something.

Universal Comedic Law #23,741: "People slapping each other in the face is funny." Everyone knows this is a true fact. But when you combine this rule with Universal Comedic Law #5,095: "People from other countries are funny." you get twice the laughs. Test the theory and watch this little clip, with not only combines these two laws and has foreigners slapping each other, but adds a tasty new wrinkle: All the slappers are women -- and some of them hit HARD.

Ghetto is as ghetto does. And this site, Hot Ghetto Mess, shines a MagLite into the wonderful world of impoverished Americans, revealing all the gap toothed smiles, ill-advised outfits and general mayhem that comes with being ghetto, in the non-fabulous meaning of the term. Or, in the words of the site: "Ghetto, its not where you live, its how you think. Ghetto is a state of mind. So, before you write your letters to the NAACP, know that the site is all in fun, but not really. It's a funny site and I love my people dearly, but y'all, we have GOT to do better..."

This just in: They actually make and sell the other end of the CPR dummy, the part where all the naughty bits are. And as you would expect, heat-injected, molded plastic booty never looked so good. But how else are medical students going to learn how to do such horrible things as "dry catheterisation" or "rectal examination?" Clearly, there's not going to be a line of practice victims volunteer patients waiting to have someone cram tubes up their wee wees. Stock up now! Christmas is only 73 days away!

Most people think that Carl Lewis was such an amazing track star because of some combination of natural ability, hard work and professional coaching. But the truth is that Mr. Lewis was so fast because he was always trying to outrun a humiliating and embarrassing past. Consider this reggae-infused music video "Exhibit A." The song is total cheeseball 1980s crap. The video is set in someone's basement gym. And Carl Lewis has the kind of high top fade Bill Cosby would have grown, that is, if the Cos had actually tried.

Remember when you were in high school and the teacher sprung some kind of pop quiz asking you about, say, the French Revolution. And you went blank and decided to give the obvious, dopey answer. "The French Revolution was a rebellion, set in France, against the leaders." Whenever the George W. Bush robot answers a question that he is not fully programmed to answer, don't you get the same kind of feeling? If you don't, then by all means, click this link and check out his answer to a question about tribal relations with the government. We're giving him an F-minus in the ol' blue book.

We live in a time of hunky carpenters, faux finishes, painted ceilings and a you-can-do-it-yourself! ethos that might -- just maybe -- be getting out of hand. An example: There are TV shows and entire superstores that are wholly dedicated to the art of scrapbooking. Yes, yes, while slightly dorky, it's hard to generate much loathing for those who want to take their junior high Sassy collages to the next level. We love Brad Pitt's abs, too. They're shiny. They're taut. So glueing paper to paper is great. No issues. Glueing feathers, rhinestones and making clothing for a piece of horse shit? Issues. Big ones.

There's highbrow. There's lowbrow. And then there's monobrow. This site celebrates the latter, featuring the best in unplucked eyebrows from around the world. The kinds of brows that would make Ernie proud. Why, there's Arjan Amir of Nepal, whose monobrow is a two inch wide swath of destruction that has clearly never seen a pair of tweezers. (Do they even have those in Nepal?) Spend your day not working at this site, which includes monobrow-related games, links and movies -- a swath of content so complete it's only a matter of time before the monobrow replaces the mullet as the latest socially unacceptable, yet oddly hip, fashion faux pax to emulate.

You think rednecks like tricking out their trucks? As per usual, the Japanese take this art to a magical, shiny new level of total awesomeness. While Americans sit back and think a pair of naked lady mudflaps, big-ass rims or a Calvin pissing window decal is tops in customization, these dudes are out there creating Maximum Overdrive meets the Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers monster machines. Vehicles so large, they look like Godzilla's roller skates. When it comes to rides, clearly, the Japanese have an extremely strong pimp hand.

Last night, sometime before the hallicinogenic mushrooms kicked in, but almost certainly a very long time after we'd plowed through the second case of Bud Light we decided to surf the Web for entertainment. As luck would have it, the mushrooms kicked in right as we visited this page, triggering a number of IMAX-worthy visuals that left us unsure what was reality. Hours later, when the drugs wore off and the balloon animals galloped home, it was hard to tell if we imagined the whole episode. Luckily, we didn't. But that doesn't mean "Poodle Story" makes any more sense this morning.

Dan Rather has to stop sending us links. While that whole "God hates Bush" theme from yesterday may, in fact, be true, using the paths of hurricanes to prove it is not true. Hurricanes are not partisan. Oh, well. Sometimes, like when you want to justify an invasion of an Arab nation whose leader tried to kill your dad, you end up believing what you want to be true, like, say, some Arab nation has scary, mysterious, unseen stockpiles of bad things they shouldn't have. So, in conclusion: No more links, Mr. Rather!

Florida has been hit with so many hurricanes, you'd think it was some kind of Biblical curse ... WAIT, A MINUTE! It's precisely this line of thinking that led Bob Morris to do some research, overlaying Florida's voting patterns from the 2000 Presidential election against the paths that Hurricanes Ivan, Frances and Charley took. Morris' conclusion: God hates George W. Bush. (A note: This is a rather large image, so in some browsers it will come up all small and unreadable. You have to enlarge it to see it at full size.)

The Depression really messed up old people, didn't it? It's the reason why Grandpa has six dozen rolls of toilet paper and enough canned food to equip a neighborhood bomb shelter. It's why Grandma always comes home from Burger King with a five-inch wad of paper napkins, a half-finished Diet Coke and 46 ketchup packets. And the Depression, we're betting, is the reason why someone kept a bottle of Seven Seas Creamy Russian dressing in their refrigerator for the last three decades. You know, just in case someone came over and felt the urge to toss spoiled, toxing dressing over their greens.

It always sucks when co-workers go away on vacation. For starters, there's the jealously factor. One of your fellow drones gets to sun on some beach, safely escaping the crack of your dark overlord's whip. This jealously quickly turns to simmering rage when you end up with twice as much work, forced to "cover" for that colleague and do double time. But don't sit there and simply simmer. Get even. Take a cue from these practical jokers and make sure your co-workers know how much you really missed them when they finally get back to work.

Babies are cute. Grandparents are cute. Photos of babies with their grandparents are so cute, little rainbows and candy hearts spontaneously shoot out of our ass when we see them. But some twisted Photoshop genius got the idea to swap the babies' heads with their grandparents' in photos ... and now ... not so cute. In fact, it's really icky, some creepy combination of hilarious and horrifying. Suddenly, all those little rainbows and candy hearts are trying to come from whence they came and they're not taking no for an answer.

When Dave finally got his crap together and decided to dump Laura it was hard to explain exactly why she deserved to spend the rest of her life utterly alone, wandering around supermarkets buying pints of milk and single-serving frozen dinners for the rest of her life. And this is where Microsoft Power Point comes in. You see, to break down the crippling dysfunction in their relationship, Dave made Laura a 16-slide presentation detailing everything that went wrong, including charts and graphs and bullet points.

Every guy who watched cartoons in the 1980s loves talking about The Transformers. And why not? The good guys are led by Optimus Prime, the bad guys are called Decepticons. You can't get much cooler than that. But you can get a little more obsessive than that, like the not-so-secret genius who wrote "Transformers: A History." Take this passage: "Back on Junkion, the Quintessons discover that they have been sending the wrong subliminal message since Superion's attack, causing the Junkions to broadcast the Subliminals all over the Galaxy, throwing worlds into chaos." You said it, broseph.

Joey the Midwife is some kind of online advertising genius. We're just not sure what kind of genius. Is he the "so bad it's amazing" kind of genius? The "mad genius" genius that is so far ahead of us all that he's actually seems behind? Or is he the "cry for help" genius, using his messages to win the attention he's been seeking for so long? It's really hard to tell. All we can tell you is that Joey the Midwife is rated "US-48 State-to-State" and you can call him at 212-OH-MY-GOD.

What do you get when big, drunken, smelly, bearded hippies with an inability to stay conscious are cross-bred with snarky, biting, fans of the movie Star Wars? You get "Passed Out Wookies!" Thrill to page-after-page of the exploits of intoxicated beardos and assorted bead-wearing Frisbee chuckers, who do things like urinate in front of cop cars and pass out in the middle of a field wth a raging erection. Ah you dirty Wookies. Will you ever learn?

Happy New Year, Jews! And your Jewish pets, too! Ring the new year in style with these special products for the lucky Members of the Dog Tribe. Now you and your pooch can have matching Star of David tags, or put your dog's name in Hebrew on its collar. Because, as we all know, Jewish pets say the Sh'ma before crapping on the couch and study the Haftorah for their Dog Mitzvah. Have the coolest Jewish dog in town with these fun pet gifts for the super Jew in all of you.

Cartography, or rather, the art of map making, goes back thousands of years. Babylonian maps dating from 2300 B.C. have been found, revealing rudimentary city layouts from an ancient time. The Greeks, who discovered that the Earth was round, improved upon the Babylonian effort, using cartography to show subjects the power and reach of the mighty Greek empire. Halfway around the globe, the Chinese did the same thing. But the field of cartography has never seen an achievement like the one reached by Jerry Lerma and Terry Hogan, who have created an incredibly detailed map of a fictional place: Springfield, home of the Simpsons.

Florida vacations are pretty fun, that is, when there aren't massive hurricanes destroying the pennisula. But these people take the whole idea of "hanging out" on sunny beaches literally. They drive thick fish hooks into the flesh in their backs and string themselves up while other tattooed people frolic around them and pose for photos. A lot of motherfucking photos. This 17-page gallery contains hundreds of the freakiest pictures we've ever seen -- and that's saying a lot, considering all that Bea Arthur Photoshop porn we've been collecting over the last year. Don't view these while eating.

Have you heard the news today? George W. Bush does a pretty mean cover of U2's "Sunday Bloody Sunday." Another reason to love the Internet. The Party Party, electronic music savants, took the time to cut and paste together speech fragments to make this cover song. Usually, the finished product ends up sounding like a bad Radiohead outtake, but in this case, the song is actually toe tappingly good. Granted, it's no John Ashcroft Sings the Christian Hits Live, but it has undeniable New Wave hipster charm -- especially when the kazoos come in. It's all about the kazoos. Click here to get your Bush on.

Senior class portraits are up there with the electric slide on a list of things you simply can't look cool doing. Which is why people try to get "creative" with them, a universally horrible idea, up there with getting plastic surgery eight seconds before getting your driver's license photo taken. This site catalogues some of the better, err worst, tactics graduates have used to leave a lasting image that will ensure they'll be ridiculed by former classmates for decades to come. Further proof that teenagers aren't as cool as they think they are.

Being single sucks. As soon as you get used to the other person -- disciphering what all those noises mean, figuring out how they take their coffee and understanding that their moments of psychosis aren't a symptom of deep mental illness, but a sign that it's just Tuesday -- the relationship ends. All that painstaking, hard-fought interpersonal research rendered useless and you're there alone, left to cuddle with your pillow set. There's really nothing that can cushion the blow of discovering your other half would rather be sucking face with anyone but you during the shot special at the local bar, but, you know, there's this fine product to keep you sane.

Teabagging. Antiquing. Drawing on someone's face with a permanent magic marker. Bunny ears. There are all kinds of hilariously mean things to do to someone in photos by now. And now, there's the "Lynndie," proving that our capacity to care and remain outraged at atrocity lasts about as long as Skeet Ulrich's film career after 1996. Doing a Lynndie is as easy -- all you do is make a thumbs up and then point, then have your picture taken. You get all of the hilarity, without any of those messy Geneva Convention violations.

This just in: Life sucks. This link will take you to the saddest story in the whole world. No, that's not quite right. It will take you to the saddest story ever heard in the history of mankind. The kind of sob story that is so outrageously depressing, so shocking in its tragedy that you may find yourself laughing, not because it's funny, but because your senses will be so overwhelmed that a light chuckle and a soft "holy fucking shit that's horrible" whispered into your morning coffee is the only way to handle something like this. Everyone knows life isn't fair. But does life have to be this relentlessly cruel?

With the convention finally behind us, The Black Table has taken a moment to reflect on all the things we've learned about the politics and protesting and policework. After that moment passed, we promptly went to the airport to suckerpunch and rob unsuspecting delegates who had the rosy glow of those who never, not even for a second, had a single real New York experience over the last four days. After blazing a trail of carnage through LaGuardia and J.F.K., we promptly returned home to sort through whatever pictures we hadn't run yet. Here they are.

The initial salvo of protest that welcomed the Republicans was like a cuddly basket of puppies, with the cops making smoochy woochy faces and patting political dissenters on the heads. But like a basket of animals that constantly needs to be fed and walked and played with, the cops became annoyed with the endless prospect of wrangling thousands and thousands of people holding wooden signs. As of Thursday, the protests got a bit more heated and more than 1,000 people have been arrested. Granted, we didn't take pictures of policemen in RoboCop mode, but we did take pictures of New York's Finest doing other policey things.

On Tuesday, about 1,000 protesters gathered outside the Fox Studios on Sixth Avenue to hold the “Fox News Shut Up A-Thon.” Like a Mardi Gras for anarchists, they came in silly costumes, yelled at suit-wearing passersby and took turns beating up a three-foot tall effigy of Bill O'Reilly. Police in riot gear were on hand to control the crowd, making the occasional arrest, and we were on hand with our digital camera making the occasional picture.

Don't stop 'til you get enough. And we simply cannot get enough amusing photos from that little protest on Sunday. In today's installment, we turn our cameras on photographers, protest fashion choices and the role that Cubism has played in costume design during this year's convention.

Protesters are funny. This was a rather obvious takeaway from Sunday's big welcoming party for the R.N.C. that was held all over New York City. We also learned that free speech and the F-bomb go hand-in-hand, that some people mistakenly believe pachouli can mask overwhelming body odor, and that paper mache dragons are voting Democratic this year. We were in the streets taking photos on Sunday. Here's a look at what we saw.

Pain is a relative concept. For example, right now, you could be operating through the cloud of a ruthless hangover on two hours of sleep, taking teeny little sips of air so you don't vom all over the keyboard. Or, um, you could be sitting there punching yourself in the balls. Both are horrible, but for some people, namely this feller, that whole mashing the testes thing is a turn on. Here are 12 ways to cause yourself excruciating pain in the bathing suit area. How's that hangover feel now, eh? Not so bad. Clearly not as bad as using a toilet seat to crush your grapes.

Yar, Gus Openshaw be keepin' a blog about how a sperm whale be takin' his wife and kid and part of his arm. He be bloggin' fer revenge yes he be and each and every day he be showin' ye some scrimshaw or sharin' ye some tale about how he gonna be harpoonin' that whale's ass in the name of cold, hard justice. And wouldn't ye be knowin' it, Capt. Openshaw had gotten his revenge, but the State of California be rather interested in his activities out thar on the open seas. Arrr, matey, be prepared to be losin' some serious time swabbin' the deck lookin' at this little bit o' magic from the Interweb.

I'm tickling your nose with my mouse and there's nothing you can do about it. It's annoying isn't it? You totally hate that itchy feeling don't you? It's like my pointer is gonorrhea and it's all up in your nasal cavity. Go ahead, wave your hands like you just don't care. My pointer is still gonna be here, tickling the crap out of your nose like a mosquito in search of some sweet sweet snot. Hey! What are you doing? Don't do that! Let my pointer go! What are you doing, man. That's so fucking unfair. Aw, hell. You're ruining all my Internet fun. Jeez, chill out it was just a joke.

Girls can't fight. What a load of crap. Girls can *absolutely* fight. They can fight harder than any boy, throwing all kinds of crazy punches in bunches and taking the kind of hits that would make a Hell's Angel lose his breath and look away in horror. For visual confirmation of this fact, you only need look at this disturbing video clip of two girls brawling at some kind of backyard function. It's all here. Multiple punches to the eye? Check. A well-executed judo throw? Check. A girl screaming, "If you kept your mouth shut and your legs closed, you'll be alright next time!" Check. Not for the faint of heart.

Avoiding the urge to masturbate can be impossible, especially when you have a tendency to accidentally download 15 gigabytes of obscure Japanese pornography every night. Luckily, the Mormon Church has this handy list of steps to fight off and overcome the need to self-pleasure. Tips include "don't be alone," "pray," and "get out of bed and fix yourself a snack." How cruel. Now you're gaining so much weight that finding someone to have wholesome post-marital sex with is impossible *and* you can't please yourself to temporarily ignore the fact you're gaining weight like Kirstie Alley on a tour of the Hostess Factory.

When it comes to child-rearing, we like to take our cues from Dr. J, Larry Bird and Bill Cosby and staunchly refuse to recognize our illegitimate children. But after seeing these amazing kids costumes, we're thinking of reconsidering that decision. After all, it's about time we were a positive influence on the lives of America's youth, you know, outside of letting teens bum smokes off us. And to think, with Halloween roughly 70 days away, we have ample amounts of time to make a difference. Looks like it's time to rent "Dolemite" again and shine up the ol' magic stick.

We're pretty sure that everyone has already read the heartwarming tale of the 480-pound woman who died last week when rescue workers tried to dislodge her from her six year stay on the couch, only to discover her skin was fused to it. But in the world of the morbidly obese, that woman was a mere lightweight -- a flamingo amongst the elephants. Check out this list of all the people who have weighed more than 900 pounds and marvel at their staggering size, proving that if you have your feet on the ground and keep reaching for those stars, one day you'll catch one.

A few weeks back, we linked off to an eBay auction for photos of Billie Simpson, the intrepid drunk armless midget who is apparently parlaying his drunk armlessness into a cottage industry. In his latest auction, bidders can spend $10.49 to win a five-minute phone conversation with Mr. Simpson, self proclaimed "star on the rise." Oddly, only two people have bid on this auction, but the phone call is almost secondary at this point. The photos of Mr. Simpson are the real draw, including one of him looking fierce and inexplicably wielding some kind of a straightedge razor. Once again: We love the Internet.

It's nice to see people have a sense of humor, even when a senseless tragedy rears its ugly head. Take Dan's friends, for example. When Dan, who has no health insurance, got into a terrible dirt bike accident just over two weeks ago, the doctors told him that he might be a quadriplegic, unable to breathe on his own. With financial crisis looming, his friends banded together to sell fake "poo pals." Now, you can make your own joke here about paralyzed people and poo -- we're going to rise above the fray and say that if you give a shit, the small ones are cute and only $20.

The Internet and real life are completely different things. For example, on the Internet lots of people are willing to look at us and listen to the things we have to say, but in the real world, people tend to gag and clutch their stomachs, fingers jammed in their ears, hoping that some panhandler or Jesus freak will come by soon, so they can focus on someone more interesting. This video from Red Vs. Blue, part of the Lincoln Center's "Wild Wild Web" show, highlights some other differences betwen the real and online worlds. It's a bitch to download, but be patient -- it's sooo worth it.

Is there a genre of music that is more entertaining and hilarious than Black Metal? It's doubtful. The music is virtually unlistenable at times, with Scandanavian kids in bands named Darkthrone, Gorgoroth and Old Man's Child taking to the woods in homemade body armor to record albums amongst the trees. Here are the 10 most ridiculous black metal pictures of all time ... and that is truly saying something. Halloween is a holiday, not a lifestyle choice -- but don't tell these people.

What happens when a couple of dudes spend too much time playing SoulCaliber II, no girls anywhere, while Nelly's "Hot in Herre" is playing on the stereo? Why, this incredible little video featuring two fighters named Voldo getting their freak on. The dance/fighting moves are timed to the music and by the end of the clip these Voldos are performing all manner of sexual acts on each other, some of which may or may not be illegal in the state you live in. Further proof that videogames don't trigger violence, they merely cause weirdness.

Freak out, part 1. The neighborhood kids at your next backyard cookout will lose their minds if you serve these square- and pyramid-shaped watermelons, which are a total steal at $108. Feel free to insert your own social commentary here about the sheer uselessness of spending the time and energy to create mutated melons that cost 15 times more than non-mutated melons. In the meantime, we'll be over here looking at this cool video of a landslide...

Freak out, part 2. Everything about this is freaky, from the language so complicated that the Google translator just barfed on it to the fact that, well, just click the play button under the phrase "Filmet jordskred." Even if you can't speak Sputnik, you'll understand what's going on.

Today's challenge: Click here and read this story about a Romanian man who wants to sell his own penis, because he's poor, and also because he never met his own parents. Yeah, we don't get that either, but then again -- we don't write this crap, we only link to it. Anyway. Back to the challenge. Read this whole story -- don't worry, it's short -- and then when you get to the Romanian man's quote about why he wants to sell his junk, read it in a Romanian "Wild and Crazy Guuuys" kind of accent. Try not to laugh so loud people at work start staring. Good luck.

If you were to sell your entire life on eBay, but you were a 32-year-old man with a divorce pending and no life, how much money could you get? Jonathan, a self-proclaimed computer geek from Connecticut with the best white man's Jheri curl in the history of hairstyles, has an answer: $40,000. What does that get you? Well, you get his tricked-out Eclipse, his complete collection of Steven King books, a thick-ass comic book collection, a keyboard *and* keyboard amp, and a Microsoft X-Box with the Matrix chip installed and three controllers. Take some time looking at this one, especially the videos, where the full lustrosity of hair is blinding.

Doing two things at once can be extremely difficult and stupid -- just look at drinking and driving. But there's more to multitasking than simply walking and chewing gum. In fact, those who can properly do two things well at the same time produce a little something we'd like to call "magic." Take this young white feller here named Yuri, who takes beatboxing and harmonica playing to the next level by doing both at the same exact time. This magical little ditty make take you some time to load, so while it does practice your multitasking skills by visiting another Website while waiting.

Ironing is hard enough. First, you need to find that stupid tag that tells you what setting to use and it's always hidden someplace where you wouldn't expect it. Then you need to find the iron, fill it with water and hope that the brown crud that's already on the iron doesn't stick to your shirt and leave skid marks all over the place, as if you crapped your shirt or something. Amateur. These dudes take ironing to a whole new extreme level, touring the world and ironing shirts in dangerous places, like Times Square for Good Morning America's live TV audience. Good to see the news is going after those hard-hitting stories these days.

Ah, the Beastie "Boys." There are two versions of their new video for "Triple Trouble" and one of them you won't see on MTV. Both versions include the band escaping from Sasquatch, who promptly drags them back to his lair to play Pong, do some dancing, go treat or treating and then play basketball. But in the clean version, the Beasties perform calisthenics, and in the dirty version, they roll a huge blunt and get high with the 7-foot tall Bigfoot, raising the immortal question: Exercise or pot? Yeah, the dirty version's better. Stick around for the cameo by Kanye West at the end.

Mac and non-Windows people, click here to see the video.

Three words: Drunk. Armless. Midget. Are you intrigued yet? Is your brain frying with the possibilities of what those three words could mean? Good. They mean what you think they mean. Somewhere out there, there's an entire CD full of pictures of a drunk, armless midget being well, highly intoxicated and armless and shorter than the rest of the general population. Where can you find these kind of pictures? On eBay, of course. Sadly, the auction is closed and some lucky fucker walked off with these magic pics for just $1, but you can see some of what you missed out on.

Four years ago, the seeds for The Black Table were planted with the launch of IssuePaper, a little-known, rarely-seen product of the dot com boom. Two Black Table editors were given three weeks to drive from the Republican National Convention in Philadephia to the Democratic National Convention in Los Angeles to check the pulse of the nation's youth and, well, deliver 27 pounds of explosives to Dr. Hunter S. Thompson at his Woody Creek, Colo. compound. Take a trip back to 2000, when no one cared about the election, terrorists weren't seen as a threat and people still believed in the Internet.

In the dictionary, under the definition of the word RAWK, you will see a picture of these two men-children rockin' out so furiously they threaten to tilt the Earth off its orbit and force us all to enter a new Ice Age. Such is the power of their RAWK. Yes, this is just one photo, an inexplicable image that came from the ether, but it serves to remind us what RAWK is all about. Take a long look here. A closer examination starts to raise all kinds of questions: Who is rockin' out more? What song are they singing? Who are they performing for? Is that singer related to Sam Kinison?

If you were to sell your entire life on eBay, but you were a 32-year-old man with a divorce pending and no life, how much money could you get? Jonathan, a self-proclaimed computer geek from Connecticut with the best white man's Jheri curl in the history of hairstyles, has an answer: $40,000. What does that get you? Well, you get his tricked-out Eclipse, his complete collection of Steven King books, a thick-ass comic book collection, a keyboard *and* keyboard amp, and a Microsoft X-Box with the Matrix chip installed and three controllers. Take some time looking at this one, especially the videos, where the full lustrosity of hair is blinding.

Ironing is hard enough. First, you need to find that stupid tag that tells you what setting to use and it's always hidden someplace where you wouldn't expect it. Then you need to find the iron, fill it with water and hope that the brown crud that's already on the iron doesn't stick to your shirt and leave skid marks all over the place, as if you crapped your shirt or something. Amateur. These dudes take ironing to a whole new extreme level, touring the world and ironing shirts in dangerous places, like Times Square for Good Morning America's live TV audience. Good to see the news is going after those hard-hitting stories these days.

Ah, the Beastie "Boys." There are two versions of their new video for "Triple Trouble" and one of them you won't see on MTV. Both versions include the band escaping from Sasquatch, who promptly drags them back to his lair to play Pong, do some dancing, go treat or treating and then play basketball. But in the clean version, the Beasties perform calisthenics, and in the dirty version, they roll a huge blunt and get high with the 7-foot tall Bigfoot, raising the immortal question: Exercise or pot? Yeah, the dirty version's better. Stick around for the cameo by Kanye West at the end.

Mac and non-Windows people, click here to see the video.

Three words: Drunk. Armless. Midget. Are you intrigued yet? Is your brain frying with the possibilities of what those three words could mean? Good. They mean what you think they mean. Somewhere out there, there's an entire CD full of pictures of a drunk, armless midget being well, highly intoxicated and armless and shorter than the rest of the general population. Where can you find these kind of pictures? On eBay, of course. Sadly, the auction is closed and some lucky fucker walked off with these magic pics for just $1, but you can see some of what you missed out on.

Four years ago, the seeds for The Black Table were planted with the launch of IssuePaper, a little-known, rarely-seen product of the dot com boom. Two Black Table editors were given three weeks to drive from the Republican National Convention in Philadephia to the Democratic National Convention in Los Angeles to check the pulse of the nation's youth and, well, deliver 27 pounds of explosives to Dr. Hunter S. Thompson at his Woody Creek, Colo. compound. Take a trip back to 2000, when no one cared about the election, terrorists weren't seen as a threat and people still believed in the Internet.

In the dictionary, under the definition of the word RAWK, you will see a picture of these two men-children rockin' out so furiously they threaten to tilt the Earth off its orbit and force us all to enter a new Ice Age. Such is the power of their RAWK. Yes, this is just one photo, an inexplicable image that came from the ether, but it serves to remind us what RAWK is all about. Take a long look here. A closer examination starts to raise all kinds of questions: Who is rockin' out more? What song are they singing? Who are they performing for? Is that singer related to Sam Kinison?

The other day we were sitting around Camp Bowery, The Black Table's world headquarters, playing "Neverland Ranch" with our Jackson family action figures when we ran into a little situation. Now that Michael is pumping out babies like the future of the human race depends on it, we're gonna need a whole lot more little dolls. A lot more. Luckily, this is why eBay exists. And for just $24 we can get fifty -- that's right, 50! -- little pink plastic fetuses to keep our Jackson family playtime fun going. Take that, Tito!

There are pageants and then there's the Miss Georgia Sex Offenders 2004 Pageant, featuring the finest child molesters, statuatory rapists, and sexual batterers. Of course, this isn't a *real* pageant -- not with categories like "Most likely to have served you pancakes" and "Most likely to be looking around the corner at all times." Ah, what can you say? The world is a sick place and the Internet is where the world's sickness is purified to a single potent drop of complete and total strangeness.

For the better part of forever, a family in Alexandria, Indiana have been working hard at making the world's largest ball of paint. When dad would go to work, mom would stay home and slap on a few coats, and then when dad would come home, he'd slap on a few coats, until there were thousands and thousands of coats. Lather, rinse, repeat until today, when the ball is about three feet wide, 1,300 pounds and has more than 18,000 coats of paint on it. Who would do this? And why? We don't have the answers, we just have this link.

HULK SMASH! Then Hulk blog about smashing. Blogging has become so popular with puny humans that even the Incredible Hulk has gotten in on the act, detailing his on-going feud with Spider-Man over the ownership of a deep fryer and discussing the best jokes Hulk has ever heard. You'd think, by now, the idea of a fake celebrity Weblog would be passe, but I can assure you, the Hulk's blog is far more intelligent and well-written than Fred Durst's *real* blog. Click here, puny human.

After five years at the all-you-can pilfer Internet buffet of music, paying 99 cents for a song is really irritating. Incredibly, this is one area where the Russians have things locked down -- this Russian version of iTunes charges you per megabyte downloaded and most songs end up costing less than a nickel. The big problem, of course, is that Russia's version of iTunes is like stealing music from a foreign exchange student. You're either awash in strange metal bands singing unintelligible lyrics, supporting Europe's insatiable love of crap electronic dance music, or you've got all the Nelly you can handle.

James Brown, Interviewed. Q: How did all of this trouble begin? A: Living in America! Heh. There's nothing wrong. Q: Nothing wrong at all? You're not in any difficulty, but you're out on bond? A: No, I'm not. Q: Have all the charges been dropped? A: Yeah, I'm out on love. Q: Are you out on love -- or out of love? A: Out on love. Alone from night-to-night you find me! Q: Now, James, this isn't the first time you and your wife have had a problem. You think you're gonna work this out? A: Let's talk about the music…

Need to know if the creepy ice cream man is actually a creepy chi-mo? Wondering about that guy who lurks outside the bar and tries to follow you home? Now you can discern between the levels of scumbaggery out there with this handy-dandy Internet search function that's so powerful, you'll be able to see where every Jeffrey Jones is at all times -- and there are like 20 different ones to pick from. Ahh, the Internet: Letting You Know Exactly Whom To Fear.

CatEnema.com. We could fill the rest of this space with a jokey description of what lurks over there, but then you'd lose the initial shock and joy that comes with a link like this. Don't worry -- there's nothing here that will make you barf into your morning coffee, only a true tale about a cat and an enema. As the author of CatEnema.com says: "No animals were harmed in the creation of this web page. All of us, however, were humiliated and demoralized by the actual events that inspired it. Everything worked out okay, though." See, it even has a happy ending!

Fuck for Forest, an environmental organization hailing from Norway and Sweden, sure have an unusual way of getting their message out there. FFF's most recent political action took place on July 7, at the Quart music festival in Kristiansand, Norway, when Tommy Hol Ellingsen, 28, and Leona Johansson, 21, hopped up onstage and and proceeded to fuck -- you know, for the forests -- as a band called "Cumshots" ripped through their set. Once finished, the police didn't arrest them, the crowd cheered lustily and, of course, the entire episode ended up on the Internet for all to see.

As we have learned from the boondoggle called Vietnam, it's important to support the troops even if you don't support what they're doing, like assembling Iraqi prisoners to try and break the Guinness Book record for "Largest Nude Human Pyramid." Many people choose to support the troops by tying a yellow ribbon around a tree they'll never see, or by flying the old and fraying American flags they bought after September 11. Welp, the ladies of Operation: Take One For The Country want to support the troops in a more direct fashion. And we support their support.

Danny North Side Kings had driven six hours to play a hardcore show, opening for Glenn Danzig. But when Danzig played early and the venue flipped on the lights, effectively ending the show, Danny NSK wasn't so happy about it. That was a long drive and the kids wanted to see his band play. So when Danny NSK tries to get answers from Danzig and instead gets pushed as the diminutive metalhead yells "Fuck you, motherfucker!" Well, Danny NSK did what any self-respecting human being would do -- he knocked Danzig right the fuck out.

The best thing about Europe is that you can never tell what's supposed to be funny and what's just unintentionally hilarious. Some examples of this phenomenon include: Swedish Black Metal, Junior Senior and Greece's preparations for the Olympic Games. Ohhh -- and this. This little video, called "Beint af toppnum í Albaníu" takes the cake. When the singer in the moustache and the Star Trek outfit sings "Hey love crusader, I wanna be your space invader." we're 58% sure he means it. Play this with the sound on.

Do you like art? Do you like pseudo-snarky social commentary? Well, now you can have *both* at the same exact time! This exciting duo from Rotterdam, photographer Ari Versluis and stylist Ellie Uyttenbroek, took to the streets to photograph teenagers and goth girls and corporate-whores and Asians in track suits and all kinds of different crews. Lose track of time at their site, called Exactitudes, a combination of the words "exact" and "attitude."

Someone named RolandTower, who appears to be about 17 years old, posted the following on a message board: "Like any red-blooded, masculine man of the male gender, I love PVC weaponry. You should too. If the concept of heading on down to the local Home Depot and transforming $100 worth of random pipe bits into a killing machine doesn’t appeal to you, you’re a goddamn pansy." Or, in other words, "I am going to make a homemade flamethrower that shoots flames 20 feet and if you can't handle that, lick me." Amen, brother. RolandTower, we salute you!

It's 3 a.m., you've been drinking Tequila like a Spring Breaker at a Senor Frog's open bar and that money's absolutely frying a hole in your pocket. Good thing the Shop at Home Network is selling katanas at this hour. Granted, they're not the highest quality katanas. In this clip, the host's practice sword shatters and he suffers a terrible -- and hiliarious -- injury. Remember, it's all fun and games when you're selling swords to drunkards until someone needs emergency surgery in the studio.

That pesky day job keeping you from seeing Spider-Man 2 on its opening day? We feel your pain. If you really can't tell your boss to piss off, then perhaps this online collection of Spider-Man comics can help you make it until the weekend. Sure, it's not CGI spider slinging, but it's far more hilarious. Something tells us that J. Jonah Jameson will not be screaming "Holy penis! What a scoop!" in the movie. Click here, read a comic, then hit F5 to read a new one. It's that easy.

Wading through the openings on Craigslist not giving you the job guidance you so desperately need? Want a career change but can’t decide between marine biologist or professional baseball player? Thankfully, the Internet is right here to help you. The Job Predictor need only know your name to reveal the career for you. Now you’ll have something to tell your parents next time they ask you what you plan on doing with your life, aside from the sadly ironic comment: "I wanna rock."

Everyone knows that friends don't let friends drive drunk. But friends usually let friends walk home drunk -- and that's a problem. Every year, thousands of eager imbibers end up with unidentified partying injuries, or UPIs, from doing the weave and shuffle trying to get home. Just look at Margo Kidder and Anne Heche. With this game, you can help staunch the flow of UPIs and get better at the drink and stagger. Just use your mouse to keep the German boozer on the straight and narrow.

Is that Fido's chew toy -- or is it something else? That's the theme behind this brilliant quiz, which asks you to decide if the molded plastic item should be left in the dog basket or in the bedroom. And telling the difference between a huge bone and a huge boner ain't exactly easy, which probably helps explain why the dog is so mad at us.

The mind of an artist is a mysterious and strange place. One minute you're sitting there with your son Jedidiah at the bowling alley for his Saturday morning league and noticing that his team is named the Dragon Slayers. And the next? You're running home to grab the paints so you can make a spiritual painting called "Dragon Slayerz," featuring "a large powerful Native American man worshiping the Lord with all his heart," a kid with a trumpet and a lady bathed in white fire. Oh, yes. And a rock that represents Jesus.

Are you a carnivore? Or are you just pretending to be a hard-core meat-eater to impress your friends? Yeah. That's what we thought. Stop fronting. You know you only eat the ugly animals and secretly stick to the carrots and celery when the big bowl of hot wings comes around. Have you ever eaten a monkey? What about an otter? We didn't think so. Go ahead. Take this quiz, pick all the cute animals you've eaten and find out what kind of animal you really are.

Checkmate, bitch. When most people think "chess player," the last thing that comes to mind is "tough guy," but that's all being changed by the World Chess Boxing Organization. Yup. You heard that right. Chess Boxing. In one of the WCBO's matches, competitors face off in alternating rounds of chess and boxing, taking pieces and then taking a piece out of each other's ass. Click here to see a brutal 11-round battle betwee lepe the Joker and Luis the Lawyer.

Rap has an offical snack, called, well, RapSnacks. They have nearly a dozen rap-themed offerings so you can get your snack on. But which are you going to pick? Mack 10's Red-Hot Cheddar? Li'l Romeo's Honey BBQ chips? Warren G's Cheezie Nacho? Master P's Platinum BBQ? According to the company, these guys sell 2 million bags of RapSnacks all over the country, which sport messages like "Stay in School." At just 25 cents a bag, these chips are selling better than the rappers on the front of the bag.

They say the truth sets people free. But sometimes, the truth sprints into the room like a naked crystal meth addict on an episode of Cops and starts taking motherfuckers out. Case in point: This Website about Nickelback, who continue to make hit records, despite the fact they're about as authentic and real as a Canal St. handbag. Put on some headphones to truly enjoy this site, which is so spot-on accurate that we sincerely hope it kills Nickleback's career and makes a nation of meatheads see the light. You're next, Hoobastank.

HBO's Deadwood just wrapped up its debut season and the results are in. The new-school Western used an awful lot of hurt words in its first dozen episodes. In fact, according to this Website, the word "fuck" -- or some variant -- was used 831 times this season, or slightly more than once a minute. But of all the episodes, the one called "Mr. Wu" was the worst. In this fine, inspiring installment, a Chinese gangster and an Anglo gangster bridge the language gap through liberal use of the word "cocksucker." All together now: Awwww.

Margaret is German. And she likes to argue with her boyfriend, who likes to keep an extensive online log of every petty dispute, nasty comment, sideways glance and ill-timed bout of bickering. Sure, this dirty laundry list clocks in at nearly 30,000 words and took us the better part of a work day to slog through, but it's worth it, if only to revel in the fact other people have relationships that are as dysfunctional as our own. Oh, go ahead. Get lost in someone else's problems for a while.

Nuclear Bob has T-shirts. And every night, Nuclear Bob posts a picture of him in one of these shirts, along with an explanation of where that shirt came from. Why does Nuclear Bob provide such detailed information on how his sartorial sensibility was formed? Once again, we have zero clue -- this is the Internet, after all. But Nuclear Bob's existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to us, saves lives. Deep down in places we don't talk about at parties, we don't just want Bob on that wall, we need him on that wall.

It could be a drum roll. Or a guitar fill. Or the part of the song where everything drops out except for the singer, who sings the hook over some thumping bass. But everyone has their favorite part of a song, which is often more important than the entire song itself. For what is "Fight For Your Right" without the high-pitched, nasal "Kick It!" What is "Flash Gordon" without the "AaaaaAAAAA!" Exactly. The fine folks at RetroCrush have it all broken down for you. The 50 Best Song Parts of all time.

In honor of this day of mourning for Ronnie, some people have the day off and other people have to sit at their desk all fucking day long shuffling papers from Pile "A" to Pile "B" and making phone calls to people who are lucky enough to have the day off. Yeah, it sucks to be you right now. But to make the day go faster, here are some things you can do:

--Play basketball.

--Look at trailer trash.

--Laugh at porn movie titles.

--Apply for a job at Huh? Corp.

We've already established that kids can be a pain in the ass when it comes to food, so it's unsurprising that kids are a pain in the ass when it comes to places that sell food, like supermarkets. As this enlightening commercial proves, children often employ certain tactics to get their own way that are so vile, so manipulative, you'll begin to see them for what they really are: Extremely cute in photos, marginally amusing in small doses and utterly uncontrollable.

Kids are picky eaters. This is a thoroughly modern phenomenon, isn't it? For thousands of years, kids were happy enough to simply have FOOD -- but now? Now, kids won't eat french fries unless you serve it with that green ketchup they like so much. Instead of being "tasty" or merely "good", food for kids has to also be "fun." Maybe that's why cheese comes in shark-shaped pieces. Fine. Whatever. But, honestly? Is there any reason for this? Aren't kids already chemically programmed to like hot dogs?

Learn Rum Fu! Most people think Donald Rumsfeld's fighting style is to drop a munitions dump on a city block, wait for the smoke to clear and tell everyone the war is over. But of course, those people are nothing more than unfair and unbalanced fools who don't understand the power of Rum Fu. Once you've mastered the Lion Claw Technique, Hidden Monkey Hands and the Twin Cobra Fist, only then will you truly understand the power and magistry of Donald Rumsfeld's way.

Drug-free kids: 1. Black Table: 0. As we said in the previous link, the Piory Woods school is not in the Netherlands, but the Nethefields, Middlesbrough, UK. Big ups to Ileana for pointing our our bone-headed mistake, which we feel just awful about. So awful, in fact, we turned to drugs. The next thing we knew, we're clubbing with some dancing robots and listening to techno. Then things got really weird. Our faces turned to clay and we barfed canned soup all over ourselves. The moral: Transformers are real. (Oh, and drugs are bad.)

Drugs are bad. Take it from the teenagers attending the Priory Woods school in the Netherlands, which, according to the site is "A Special Place to Learn," if you catch our meaning. As this incredible 5-minute class project shows, if you do drugs, your face will turn into clay and you will barf up canned soup. You may have some fun bumping and grinding with fellow students in a classroom, but soon after, you *will* end up in jail. And that's not very special. Play this with the sound on.

Okay, so we lied yesterday. Transformers are not real. As much as we wish they were real, they're not. But this *is* real. People are really willing to pay $61 on eBay just to get one of those Google email accounts. Sure, no one wants to end up with CoolBob95406@Gmail.com, but $61 -- that's a dozen drinks in a bar! Sigh. Welcome to the next great Internet land grab, where people are willing to dump ridiculous amounts of money just to get an email address. Anyone want to buy BrooklynBridge@Gmail?

Transformers are real! Dr. Colin Mayhew, a really amazing scientist from the U.K., took the Mini Cooper, hacked it up, added an assload of whiz-bang sensors and computer stuff and made himself a "autonomous biped robot conversion," which is better known as a totally rad real-life Transformer. Okay, so technically, the robot doesn't turn back into the car, but it *looks* like a Transformer and it can do all kinds of insane things. Be sure to check out the videos.

Fred Durst is a blogger. And he has his own blog, where, shockingly enough, he's a hypersensitive, self-absorbed freak who rambles on and on about how people continue to say mean shit about him. But even better are Mr. Durst's, er, excuse me, "American Alien's" huge insights into American culture. "i feel like i am in a bad robocop movie. the headlines seem seem so unreal." That's deep. Durst should have saved that for the next record. You can't take these things for granted, or as Durst would say, "granite."

Commuting sucks. Bumper-to-bumper traffic can turn six miles into a three-day journey. The trains never go where you need them to go when you want them to. And forget about taking a bus, which combines the hell of traffic with the inconsistency of the train. That's why we're switching things up and taking the balloons to work. They're fun, they're fast and while they're not the most accurate mode of transport -- no one has more fun getting to work in the morning. Weeee!

In the last few weeks, The Black Table has been exploring a little Web-theme: Insane homemade costumes. We've seen a man boldly wear his incredibly detailed Tron outfit crafted from glow-in-the-dark fabric paint and a unitard. Then we came across non-breathable, semi-formal wear made from rolls and rolls of duct tape. And so we bring you our latest discovery: A woman who made her own gorilla costume from scratch. Why would a nice lady want to dress up like a headless Kong? Once again, we have no f-ing clue.

Jenny loved her duct tape dress. It photographed nicely, reflecting the light the way a shimmery satin dress would, only with a funky texture. The stiffer material helped hide whatever flaws she felt she had at the time and, let's be honest here, Jenny didn't need a bra. It's not like her nipples could show through duct tape. So, when Jenny showed up to the dance, she did so confidently: No one else on Earth had this dress, and she would clearly be the talk of the prom. Yup. Those three weeks and six rolls of duct tape were *totally* worth it.

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