Someday, I hope to be the proud owner of Abe Lincoln’s big toe.
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Famed British physicist Stephen Hawking says space aliens, if they pay us a visit, will rip our faces off.
The journalism community may find this hard to swallow, but it's possible we owe the Donner Party an apology.
Planning to go to a giant, family-oriented indoor waterpark?
Twelve years ago, when most of my parenting skills were based on what I learned from massive consumption of TV sitcoms, I wrote this:
It's official: The horned dung beetle is The World's Strongest Insect.
Turning to ridiculous international news, a woman in New Zealand sold what she said were two vials containing ghosts for nearly $1,400 in an online auction.
Pundits, bloggers and others with way too much time on their hands are having a field day with the revelation that more than $70,000 in federal stimulus money will be spent to study monkeys on cocaine.
I'm not a tour guide, but I play one at the newspaper.
Dear diary: You are now worth $6,000.
I walked across the street at the light and turned onto the sidewalk when my boots hit a slick spot, my weight shifted awkwardly, and I knew I was headed south.
Vehicle recall notices aren't as detailed or action-packed as I imagined. With the much publicized auto industry problems of late, I cruised on over to safecar.gov, the U.S. Department of Transportation's recall roundup site, to see if my truck was on the list of vehicles that will suddenly explode.
I don't boogie much.
This week, I could not help but turn serious for a moment and weigh in on the Supreme Court's landmark decision to allow giant multi-national corporations to spend unlimited dollars on political commercials, a move that many free-speech experts and constitutional scholars say will --
In case you were wondering, the pony worked when we plugged it in.
I recall The Great Blizzard of '09 as if it were last week or maybe the week before. There we were, huddled in our home, no electricity, snow falling, wind howling, wolves at the door.
Readers who did not overly indulge in Uncle Fred's eggnog or trip over the tail-end of their new Snuggies and smash their skulls on coffee tables may recall last week's column, Scott's Trance-Induced 2010 Year in Preview, Part I, a guide to what will happen in the coming year.
Shhh. I'm in a trance.
In the end, South Carolina lawmakers said Gov. Mark Sanford may be a lying sack of toe jam, but that doesn't disqualify him from holding the state's highest office.
This holiday season, I'm putting faith in my fellow man - or counting on a Christmas miracle - that the pony will actually work when we plug it in.
Whatever the gentleman came to talk about was suddenly unimportant.
I don't like to use my widely read newspaper column (eight loyal readers, if Uncle Vern recovers from what doctors have now labeled "swine gout") for personal gain, unless it's to lure people into my latest money-making scheme or further my political ambitions, which is also my latest money-making scheme.
In March of 1861, 8-year-old George Patten was having a rough go of it in school.
My truck may be a time machine.
It was a good day at work. I wasn't eaten by a lion.
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