AT LARGE Fake News Wednesday: Dylan, Waits, Cohen Record Christmas Album

MALIBU, Calif. (CAP) - Following the surprise success of his 2009 holiday album Christmas In The Heart, Bob Dylan has teamed up with two fellow gravelly-voiced troubadours, Leonard Cohen and Tom Waits, for a new release, Hallelujah! Christmas In The Heart Of A Hooker In Minneapolis.

"Well my daddy, he didn't leave me much, you know he was a very simple man, but what he did tell me was this," Dylan told CAP News during a joint interview with his new collaborators. "He did say, son, he said, you know two mouths are better than one mouth, and three mouths ... well, there you go." Then he leaned back and took a puff of his Chesterfield, taking a moment to tap the ashes off with a shake of his jade quellazaire.

Christmas In The Heart sold more than a million copies, and Dylan's versions of "Silver Bells" and "O' Little Town of Bethlehem" have become standard fare in shopping malls and at Christmas parties across America.

"I love it when he sings 'the hopes and fears of all the years' in that croaky wheeze that he's got - it sounds sort of like a death rattle, but in a festive kind of way," said Sally Fender of the YuleTunes blog, which gave Christmas In The Heart a four Figgy Pudding rating.

Dylan approached Cohen and Waits about the follow-up album, and the pair was apparently more than happy to oblige.

"One thing I learned during the years I spent living among Buddhist monks is that enlightenment comes in all forms, and speaks in many voices," said Cohen, sitting with Dylan and Waits outside Coogie's Beach Cafe in Malibu. "And one thing I learned when my manager stole my retirement fund was that you don't turn down an offer to make an album with Bob Dylan."

"This album will be colder than a ticket taker's smile at the Ivar Theater on a Saturday night," added Waits in a guttural mumble, prompting both Dylan and Cohen to stare at him blankly for several seconds before changing the subject.

Hallelujah! Christmas In The Heart Of A Hooker In Minneapolis offers an eclectic mix from the trio; for instance, Cohen contributes a version of "Ding Dong Merrily On High" which he says is actually a reference to a sexual liaison he had with Janis Joplin in the late 1960s. "She was, alas, often merrily on high," said Cohen, wistfully with a touch of literary mischievousness.

As for Waits, he contributes an original song entitled, "If It's Christmas, Those Must Be Whores And Bourbon." He admitted it's not typical holiday fare, but explained that while writing it, "I got caught in the middle of a pimp war between two kids in chinchilla coats, they couldn't have been more than 13 years old - they're throwing knives and forks and spoons out into the street."

"Riiight ..." responded Cohen, and Dylan just rolled his eyes.

[Read the rest at CAP News.]

COLUMN: Wishing you an off-kilter Christmas (movie)

When I was a kid, every year around this time I would watch “Santa Claus Conquers the Martians.” I did this despite the fact that critics regularly put this 1964 movie on their list of the worst films of all time, probably because of its inane plot, juvenile dialogue, bargain-basement costumes and the fact that it appears to have been filmed entirely in a single room that may or may not have been made of cardboard.

I think I may have watched it because as a child, it’s comforting to know that Santa, in addition to bringing you toys every year, is also capable of warding off an alien invasion if necessary. Also, New York’s Channel 9 scheduled it on a Saturday afternoon every December — your choice was either that or reruns of “Hee-Haw” on Channel 11, and Roy Clark certainly never conquered any aliens, with the possible exception of Minnie Pearl. (Incidentally, the entire “Santa Claus Conquers the Martians” is embedded below via Hulu, if you ever have a spare 80 minutes and have a choice between watching that and hitting yourself in the forehead with a plank.)

Of course, there are plenty of other holiday-themed movies that don’t seem to quite get the spirit of the season. Some are downright horrifying, like “Silent Night, Deadly Night,” or anything starring Tim Allen. But others are only just slightly off, like a sugarplum left under your pillow one night too long. (Or wherever the heck those sugarplums were.)

One that comes to mind is “Gremlins,” the 1984 Joe Dante film about horrible little creatures that terrorize a small town at Christmastime, and breakdance. It’s noteworthy not so much for the scene where a Gremlin explodes in a microwave oven (no matter how many thousands of important microwave experiments it may have inspired among America’s youth) but for Phoebe Cates’ speech about the time her father dressed up as Santa Claus and died a horrible death while coming down their chimney. Sadly, no transcript of the speech was included with the thousands of Gremlins dolls under 5-year-olds’ Christmas trees that year.

Another is John Hughes’ “Home Alone 2: Lost in New York” (1992), in which cute (by which I mean possibly sociopathic) Macaulay Culkin gets left behind at Christmas by his parents again, this time in New York City. I thought the first “Home Alone” movie was just stupid, but in watching the second one I realized it teaches children a valuable Yuletide lesson: If Joe Pesci ever tries to break into the house, electrocute him.

And I was particularly disturbed by 2004’s “The Polar Express.” Much has been made of how creepy Robert Zemeckis’ animated characters look, which is exactly the kind of press you want when you spend $166 million making a movie (which, granted, included Tom Hanks’ standard salary, $164 million). Personally, I saw this entire film and don’t remember a single shred of the plot, and yet the Steven Tyler-inspired Aerosmith elf who pops up at the end haunts my dreams, with those pointy ears and gigantic lips — I have visions of him jumping out from behind my Christmas tree and gumming me to death.

The good news is, over the last few years I’ve been able to introduce my kids, now 9 and 11, to a few holiday movies that are outlandish enough to rise above, say, the goop on ABC Family’s “25 Days of Christmas” (in which a grouchy businessperson or Tom Arnold learns the true meaning of the season), but not so bizarre as to keep them up Christmas Eve, not from excitement but from the fear that they will be attacked by Gremlins, or Joe Pesci.

Their hands-down favorite is of course Bob Clark’s “A Christmas Story” (1983), which does off-kilter Christmas just the right way: with fake swearing, almost shooting your eye out and eating mashed potatoes like a piggy. It shows that it’s possible to make a holiday movie that’s funny, moving and even a little bit subversive without being gross or stupid.

If only the Christmas goose had exploded in the Chinese restaurant microwave, it would have been perfect.

AT LARGE Fake News Tuesday: Palin says 'Alaska' Dog-Clubbing Footage Taken Out Of Context

WASILLA, Alaska (CAP) - Former GOP vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin is saying leaked outtake footage from her TLC reality show Sarah Palin's Alaska has been taken "out of context," particularly the scene where she clubs and skins a miniature schnauzer, mistaking it for a baby seal.

"Ya know, out in the tundra things happen pretty quick," said Palin. "When that snow's comin' down, a schnauzer and a seal are basically indristinguishable."

Critics have pointed out that the "tundra" where Palin skinned the dog was actually the Bluff Park Farm in Knik-Fairview, and that before clubbing it she shot it from a helicopter using high-powered rifle with an infrared scope.

"Plus an old lady was walking it," pointed out People for the Ethical Treatment Of Animals spokesman Dan Sharon.

Sharon also said the excuse that Palin mistook the dog for a seal is "no excuse at all," since the practice of seal-clubbing has long been maligned as inhumane. The practice was targeted in a series of mid-'90s PETA magazine ads in which Pamela Anderson was shown clubbing a tiny Photoshopped version of Ted Nugent.

"Well, maybe beatin' a seal to death sounds unearthadox to those high falutin' big-city PETA elites, but out here in the wilderness, that's how we roll," said Palin while signing books at the Walmart Superstore on South Seward Meridian Parkway in Wasilla.

"Maybe the PETAs should spend more time gettin' all naked and beatin' up on Santa's fur cluffs," said Palin, possibly meaning "cuffs."

In other outtake footage, Palin is seen taking a rifle she purchased at a Wasilla gun shop and shooting out author Joe McGinniss' car headlights. Palin has criticized McGinnis for moving next door to her in Wasilla while researching a book on her.

"Well, maybe he shouldn'ta shined [his headlights] on my property," she's seen telling Wasilla Sheriff Karl Plastow as he confiscates the weapon. "The Russians mighta seen 'em and attacked us with their, waddayacallem, Moogs," possibly meaning MiGs.

There's also footage that appears to have been shot from another room where she's seen advising her daughter Bristol to whack her fellow Dancing With The Stars contestant Brandy in the knee with a crowbar.

[Read the rest at CAP News.]

COLUMN: Waiting for the end of the world ...

Ah, it’s that time of year again. The weather’s turned chillier, shoppers rush hurriedly from store to store, and a particular phrase is on everyone’s lips: “THE END OF THE WORLD IS NIGH!” This statement may or may not be followed by an anguished wail and/or rending of garments.

I’m referring of course to a press release I received recently from the “Hourglass Watchman” of the eBible Fellowship with the heading “A Message to the Media of the World,” which apparently includes me. Not one to bury the lead, the Watchman gets right to the point:

“May 21, 2011 — Judgment Day. God will begin to destroy the World and this Universe with a worldwide earthquake. October 21, 2011 — The End of the World. The World and the entire Cosmos will be totally destroyed by fire.”

Considering most of the press releases I get include either the phrases “craft fair” or “ham and bean supper,” this would obviously be considered Big News. But oddly enough, I’ve yet to see reportage on this by any of the rest of the Media of the World, which must still be busy tracking the Black Friday tramplings. So it seems it’s up to me to bring up some of the obvious questions raised by this announcement, such as:

1) What happened to 2012? Can’t those stupid Mayans get anything right?

2) Five whole months to destroy the earth? I think God needs a new contractor.

In order to better help us better understand our impending annihilation, I thought I’d walk you through the highlights of the 18-page (!) e-mail, which I decided to print out on the grounds that preserving trees is now no longer necessary, and also I only need my ink cartridges to last another 11 months. (Or maybe even six months, assuming that printing things becomes less of a priority after the giant, world-destroying earthquake.)

First, the release insists that it is “not unusual that God’s people have been given insight into the timing of the end of the world.” Apparently it’s also happened those other times when the world was supposed to end but didn’t, leaving all the people holding “The End is Near!” placards to just mill around sheepishly, like Springsteen fans still waving a “Play Thunder Road!” sign after the lights go up.

As for the time between Judgment Day and the actual End of the World, apparently that’s to provide those of us who haven’t been called up into heaven with “the most horrific period of five months of torment, misery, sorrow and unspeakable hell on earth,” or, as we call it here in New England, “winter.” (Just a little End of the World humor there.) “How awful!” the Watchman then declares, just to drive the point home in case we haven’t been paying attention.

It’s worth noting, though, that although we will be annihilated in fire and cease to exist after the five months, the e-mail asserts, “there will not be a conscious suffering in a place called hell.” That sound you just heard was Charlie Sheen exhaling and ordering another round of drinks.

Personally, I’m hoping that God isn’t really planning to save just 200 million chosen people and leave the rest of us to “die like a beast” rather than rise up into heaven. Because for one thing, I’m counting on beasts being allowed in heaven, because when I die I’m going to have a lot of catching up to do with my dogs. And second, judging by the typical criteria, I’m guessing the 200 million saved people will include the likes of Sarah Palin, George W. Bush and Glenn Beck, who I’m guessing will not want to lick me or catch my Frisbee.

Still, even though I’m skeptical, the Hourglass Watchman asks that I “please consider publishing an article … regarding this awesome urgent and important matter,” so that’s what I’m doing. Just like I do when people send me their ham-and-bean-supper notices.

Which reminds me: If you’re planning one, you may want to schedule it before next October, just in case.

This column appeared originally in North Shore Sunday. Follow Peter Chianca on Twitter at twitter.com/pchianca. To receive At Large by e-mail, write to info@chianca-at-large.com, with the subject line “SUBSCRIBE.”

AT LARGE Fake News Tuesday: Julie Andrews Critical Of Anne Hathaway's Bosoms

HOLLYWOOD (CAP) - Broadway and Hollywood icon Julie Andrews had some critical words this week for her Princess Diaries co-star Anne Hathaway, who bares all in her new movie with Jake Gyllenhaal, Love And Other Drugs.

"As you know, I bared my bosoms in S.O.B. (1981), and I dare say they were quite a bit more perky than Anne's, which were a bit doughy for my tastes, if you don't mind me saying so," Andrews told the Hollywood Reporter. "And my bosoms were a bit further along at the time than Anne's are now," added Andrews, now 75 and "still supple, if you get my drift."

Hathaway has made headlines for her performance in Love And Other Drugs, wherein she plays a Parkinson's patient with a wild sex life. Of its 113-minute running time, Hathaway is fully naked for approximately 75 minutes, according to a study of the film by New York magazine's Vulture entertainment blog.

"Of the 75 minutes, about 40 minutes featured her bare breasts," said Vulture writer Will Plotkin. "About 20 minutes featured her bare rear end, and about 10 minutes featured a combination of the two, which required some pretty fancy camera work."

The other five minutes featured Hathaway's private area, "mostly in glimpses that you have to squint to see, and which I've edited together here in a montage from footage I took with a video camera I snuck into the theater," said Plotkin. "Um ... for work."

Andrews, meanwhile, pointed out that although she went topless for S.O.B., she never felt a need to do nudity as extensive as Hathaway's in Love And Other Drugs.

"Except in the private movies I made for Blake," she said, referring to her husband, director Blake Edwards. "Between us, you'd have to watch those to find out what supercalifragilisticexpialidocious really means.

"It's quite dirty, actually," she added, pursing her lips suggestively.

[Read the rest at CAP News.]

COLUMN: You’ll be thankful you read this

As you may recall, around this time each year I like to take a moment to remind my readers that there are still plenty of reasons to be truly thankful. I do that so people will be able to put these often difficult times into perspective, and also to get them to come out from under the bed.

So stick your head out and take a gander at these, this year’s reasons to give thanks:

1) You didn’t have to run against a Republican in the mid-term elections. Or if you did you probably had to do it in Massachusetts, where the number of Republicans in the state Senate can now officially fit into a phone booth. Whatever that was.

2) You have universal health care now, sort of.

3) There’s an app for that, as long as “that” isn’t “magically generating the extra 600 bucks you’d need to buy an iPad.”

4) When something goes wrong at work, you don’t have to wait 69 days to be extricated through a tube. No matter how often it may feel that way.

5) You’re not covered in oil, or if you are, it’s probably just a lifestyle choice.

6) You didn’t have to run against Scott Brown. Or his truck. Or his barn jacket. Or his rugged, manly good looks. Not that I’m looking at his Cosmo spread right now or anything.

7) Jay Leno didn’t want your time slot.

8) Your personal assistant didn’t write a tell-all book about you, your lover and the illegitimate child you fathered when you were running for president. Heck, you probably don’t even have a personal assistant.

9) You haven’t turned up on “Sarah Palin’s Alaska,” where there’s a good chance you would have been eaten by a bear, or Sarah Palin.

10) You weren’t poisoned by Lady Gaga in her “Telephone” video, and you probably had very little exposure to police tape, and even if you did you most likely weren’t wearing it over your privates.

11) Your bosoms didn’t offend Elmo.

12) You weren’t married to Larry King, probably.

13) You’re not an illegal alien living in Arizona. Or a legal alien living in Arizona. Or a guy with a tan living in Arizona. On a related note, the entire population of Arizona has been detained for questioning.

14) The last time you answered an ad on Craigslist, nobody killed you, probably.

15) Your husband didn’t admit to canoodling with a tattooed skank. Or if he did, at least it wasn’t right after you won your Oscar.

16) You’re completely incapable of pitching a perfect game. After all, with your luck it would have been officiated by that umpire in Detroit, or the shot Roger Clemens gave you in your butt would have worn off in the bottom of the eighth.

17) You didn’t try to get in to the new Harry Potter theme park, unless you did, in which case you’re still there waiting in line, trying to gain sustenance by sucking the condensation off the end of your plastic wand.

18) You haven’t received any text messages from Brett Favre. (And if you have … for God’s sake, delete them!)

19) The Old Spice Guy beat up a pirate piñata with a petrified freshwater fish while saying your name. Wait, sorry … that was Demi Moore. But I’m sure the Old Spice Guy would have done that for you, had he known you.

20) No one threatened to burn anything of yours, or if they did, they probably didn’t go through with it.

21) You didn’t ask, and you won’t tell.

22) If you’re staying at a hotel right now, Charlie Sheen is probably nowhere in the vicinity. You can come out from under the bed now.

This column appeared originally in North Shore Sunday. Peter Chianca is a managing editor for GateHouse Media New England. Follow him on Twitter at twitter.com/pchianca. To receive At Large by e-mail, write to info@chianca-at-large.com, with the subject line “SUBSCRIBE.”

COLUMN: So what's up with Thanksgiving?

It’s time once again for “Mr. Holiday” to answer your holiday queries. This week: Thanksgiving.

***

Dear Mr. Holiday:
I understand that the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals want us to give up eating turkey on Thanksgiving. But I love turkey! Juicy, succulent, recently deceased turkey. What should I do?

Hungry in Holliston

Dear Hungry:
PETA is a very well-meaning organization, in that same way that your crazy uncle who thinks he’s a founding member of ABBA is well-meaning. But mostly they’re just looking for an excuse to parade around naked and get arrested.

In reality, studies have shown that Thanksgiving turkeys are remarkably well treated. They run free on spacious turkey farms, relaxing in little turkey saunas and smoking rich little full-bodied turkey cigars. Then they’re slaughtered and plucked, but in a well-treated kind of way.

What you should be really concerned about is the rampant, horrible mistreatment of soy.

***

Dear Mr. Holiday:
I dread Thanksgiving — sitting around with my family is so boring! Any suggestions?

Bored in Bakersville

Dear Bored:
You seem to have forgotten that Thanksgiving is one of the only chances your entire family gets to sit down together in a meaningful way. With that in mind, here are some topics you may want to consider to liven up the meal:

· How years of browbeating have driven you to therapy;

· The fact that just because you can’t get through a family occasion without downing an entire bottle of muscatel doesn’t mean you’re an alcoholic;

· That you’ve blown the grandkids’ inheritance on Keno.

***

Dear Mr. Holiday:
I enjoy the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. What’s the story behind those tremendous balloons?

Curious in Connecticut

Dear Curious:
It takes dozens of people to control one of those balloons, and in a stiff wind they can actually become quite dangerous. No wait, I’m thinking of Willard Scott.

***

Dear Mr. Holiday:
What are “giblets”?

Cooking in Cambridge

Dear Cooking:
No one knows.

***

Dear Mr. Holiday:
I love finishing a huge Thanksgiving meal, heading straight into the living room, loosening my belt and watching football for the rest of the day as the stuffing congeals in my stomach cavity. But recently I began wondering: What are all the women talking about back in the kitchen while the guys watch football?

Suspicious in Scranton

Dear Suspicious:
This is one of the great mysteries of Thanksgiving. But I’m sure it’s not how they can’t believe they have to wake up every morning next to the likes of your fat, lazy self. They’re probably just comparing recipes.

***

Dear Mr. Holiday:
I was horrified recently to discover that the first Thanksgiving dinner was nothing like the Thanksgiving we have today. Is it really possible that the Pilgrims and Indians didn’t really have turkey and pumpkin pie?

Disillusioned in Denver

Dear Disillusioned:
Don’t worry your pretty little head off — of course the Pilgrims and Indians had turkey and pumpkin pie! Just like Columbus was a brave and gallant explorer rather than the harbinger of genocide and slavery to a proud indigenous people. Six of one, half-dozen of the other, I always say.

Granted, historians say the menu was probably more likely to include things like lobsters, mussels, grapes, plums and flint corn. However, some traditions have carried on: For instance, a Pilgrim woman named Constance Britteridge was credited with creating a delightful fruit centerpiece for the meal, based on a first-century fresco from Pompeii. Then she was arrested for securities fraud.

***

Dear Mr. Holiday:
What are you thankful for this Thanksgiving?

Grateful in Greenwich

Dear Grateful:
I’m thankful mostly for loyal, caring readers like you. No wait, I meant to say giblets.

Peter Chianca is a managing editor for GateHouse Media New England. He’s currently out shopping for giblets; his “Best of Chianca” column is from 2005. Follow him on Twitter at twitter.com/pchianca.

AT LARGE Fake News Tuesday: Passengers On Disabled Cruise Ship Ate Crew, Each Other

LOS ANGELES (CAP) - A luxury cruise liner that limped into San Diego after a fire knocked out its power was lucky in many ways: a nearby Navy vessel came quickly with supplies, and the mishap occurred in tranquil waters. But that didn't stop its frantic passengers from descending quickly into panic, rioting, looting and eventually resorting to cannibalism.

"We were in decent spirits for the first few hours after the power went out," said Carnival Splendor passenger Carrie Whitehead, 32, of Chelmsford, Mass. "Then they announced the buffet was closed. That's when the deck chairs started going over the side."

Within hours, the passengers had formed into a number of tribe-like groups and staked out certain areas of the ship as their home turf, according to passenger Fred Ricker, 66, who banded together with the other senior citizens on board.

"You had all these young punks whining and crying because their cell phones weren't working," said Ricker, whose tribe of seniors ("The Otters") immediately took control of the Lido Deck, beating the younger passengers around the head and neck with shuffleboard cues.

"They wouldn't have lasted two seconds in 'Nam," said Ricker, his face still war-painted with oil squeezed from a tray of lox.

A nearby Navy vessel dropped a supply of Spam and other non-perishables aboard the ship on the first day of the ordeal, but by day two, a tribe calling themselves "The Sloths" was fomenting rebellion, according to a Carnival Splendor kitchen worker who asked not to be named.

"They had taken over the Grand Buffet dining room on the Promenade Deck, which is pretty much where they'd been spending the whole cruise anyway," said the worker, who explained that after two meals of Spam and Pop Tarts, the Sloths tied dinner napkins around their foreheads and stormed the kitchen, stampeding staffers and gorging themselves on shrimp and salmon that had gone unrefrigerated for two days.

"Between that and the fact that the ship's stabilizers were lost when the power went out, things got ugly pretty quickly," said the worker, whose co-workers were able to re-take the kitchen by pushing the rampaging passengers overboard as they leaned over the railing to vomit.

[Read the rest at CAP News.]

COLUMN: Eh, who needs a shower?

You may have heard of the “swag bags” that Hollywood stars get when they attend awards shows, containing tens of thousands of dollars worth of jewelry, electronics and vouchers for luxurious getaways. Being a journalist is sort of like that, except instead of jewelry and electronics, you get giant wipes you can use to clean the sweat off your children “when a shower isn’t feasible.” Or maybe it’s just me who gets those … I’ll have to ask Brian Williams the next time I see him.

Regardless, that’s what I found in my mailbox this week — free “review” samples of “Qwik Shower Gym Class Wipes,” aimed specifically at “active children, tweens and pubescent teens who get soiled, sweaty, stinky and self-conscious.” In other words, all of them, except for the boys ages 5-13, who don’t get self-conscious so much as proud. (“Smell that smell? I made that!”)

I speak from experience on that front, because I have a 9-year-old son who, as has been well documented previously in these pages, is somewhat of an aficionado of unpleasant bodily odors. Tim is sort of like a sommelier, except instead of wine he’s an expert in what comes out of your pores after two hours of playing lacrosse in an outfit that weighs three times your natural body weight.

So I had to admit that he was an ideal candidate to test the Qwik Shower Gym Class Wipes, particularly this past weekend, when he spent an hour running up and down a court for youth basketball “evaluations.” This is the procedure by which coaches put their young players through a series of precise and elaborate drills in order to determine if any of them might, possibly, have heard of a basketball. Tim came home smelling exactly like his elementary school gym, which most local residents agree probably had a worker accidentally sealed up under the floor when it was built in 1972.

Tim was gracious enough to agree to participate in my little test, even though the Qwik Shower wipe, when opened, looked like one of those Wet-Naps they used to give out in Chinese restaurants, except dramatically enlarged, possibly by accidental exposure to gamma rays. Seeing it in its full, outspread glory, it’s hard not to think: If you’re the type of person who sometimes finds your entire body covered in duck sauce, this product is for you.

Tim’s first response when applying the Qwik Shower to his soiled, sweaty, stinky and self-conscious self: “This thing is cold!” And he was right — it might have benefited from a few seconds in the microwave first, although ostensibly if you have a microwave handy, there’s probably an actual shower somewhere nearby.

In general, though, Tim seemed generally fresher and cleaner after wiping down, smelling primarily of the vaguely sterile “slight fresh scent” promised on the packaging — just strong enough to be preferable to the typical little-boy odors, but not pungent enough so that he might be mistaken for something that should have been hanging from the rear-view mirror of a pet owner’s Audi.

As for Tim’s reaction, he was happy to avoid an actual bath, but declared, “If I end up having a rash, I’m suing!” These are words to live by if I’ve ever heard any.

Meanwhile, just when I figured I’d had enough professional exposure to bodily emissions for one week, I got an e-mail with the following subject line: “It’s Booger Season!!” You can tell from the dual exclamation points that this was not meant as simple information but rather as a declaration of catastrophic proportions, like “My Shorts Are On Fire!!” or “The End of the World is Nigh!!”

Turns out it was a release publicizing “Boogie Wipes” and their “Save the Sleeve” campaign, which “empowers kids to … blow their nose, instead of using their sleeve, to wipe away germs.” Somehow I never saw kids with mucous on their sleeves as a protected class in need of some kind of nose-blowing empowerment movement, but just to drive the point home, they included a picture of a 2-liter soda bottle filled with “boogers,” which I have a sinking feeling may be the next item I find in my mailbox.

Not to sound unappreciative, but it seems to me certain Hollywood types could probably use these products even more than I could. So if any of you celebrities (I won’t mention any names, Lindsay Lohan) want to send along some of your electronics and jewelry swag, I’d be happy to send you my Qwik Shower and Boogie Wipes in a fair exchange.

You’re on your own for the duck sauce, though.

Peter Chianca is a managing editor for GateHouse Media New England. Follow him on Twitter at twitter.com/pchianca. To receive At Large by e-mail, write to info@chianca-at-large.com, with the subject line “SUBSCRIBE.”

More proof that Linus kicks Sting's a**

I have a dream that someday, I will have the free time to spend hours editing old "Peanuts" clips into a music video for a classic rock song. But until then, I'll have to continue to rely on YouTube users like chalkdrinker. Three cheers!

COLUMN: A pre-election post-election roundup

Editor’s note: Due to press deadlines, our reporter had to write the following election roundup before the election actually took place. We apologize in advance if there are any discrepancies.

As predicted, Republicans made an unprecedented sweep into office on Tuesday, sending what GOP leaders called “an important message” to President Barack Obama from the American people: that when they elected him based on his promise to enact healthcare reform, pass sweeping financial regulations and avert another Great Depression, they were just kidding.

“What we really wanted was for him not to raise taxes!” said Fred Hertmeyer of Glenbeulah, Wisc., who said he voted for every Tea Party candidate he could find. When told that Obama has actually lowered taxes during his first two years in office, Hertmeyer slapped his forehead and ran back to the Glenbeulah Junior High School to change his vote, but the elderly women who ran the polls had long since gone home.

New Speaker of the House John Boehner declared the GOP victory to be a repudiation of Obama’s policies, as well as “sweet revenge” against all the kids in middle school who used to call him “Johnny Boner.” Reached at her office Wednesday morning, former Speaker Nancy Pelosi disagreed with Boehner’s assessment, saying, “Look what you’ve done! I’m melting! Melting! Oh, what a world! What a world!” and then disappearing into a pile of mush under her desk.

The Republican majorities, meanwhile, immediately set about preserving the so-called Bush tax cuts, along with $1 billion in new tax cuts to help private industry finance the spontaneous, massive block parties that broke out on Wall Street and at insurance and credit card companies across the country with news of the GOP victories.

“Don’t worry, all that wealth should start trickling down any time now,” said Boehner, pausing to look at his watch. “Just you wait,” he added, tapping several times on his knee and looking uncomfortably around the room. Then, after another minute or so had passed, he pointed and yelled, “Look! Bill Clinton!” and slipped out the back door while everyone’s back was turned.

Prospective 2012 presidential hopeful Sarah Palin said she was “extastic” about the results and took credit for the fact that every candidate she endorsed won easily. She did admit, however, that she didn’t actually cast a ballot for any of them, having accidentally attempted to vote at an ATM machine. Meanwhile, one of her protégés, newly elected Sen. Christine O’Donnell of Delaware, has already filed a bill that would require people to start referring to sex by whispering “s-e-x,” and another that would turn the media into newts.

Here in Massachusetts, gubernatorial candidate Tim Cahill — who ran as an independent, even though he was a lifelong Democrat — squeaked into office ahead of Gov. Deval Patrick and GOP challenger Charlie Baker, with exit polls showing that most voters had mistaken Cahill for “None of the Above.”

“We’ll take it however we can get it,” said Cahill, who then pulled of his rubber mask, revealing himself to actually be Michael Dukakis.

In another surprise here in the Bay State, the controversial Question 3, to roll the sales tax back from 6.25 to 3 percent, passed by a wide margin. The next day, thousands of teachers, police, firefighters and prosecutors lost their jobs, and the rest of society was eaten by zombies.

Most people blamed Obama.

This column ran originally at Wicked Local North of Boston. Follow Peter Chianca on Twitter at twitter.com/pchianca. To receive At Large by e-mail, write to info@chianca-at-large.com, with the subject line “SUBSCRIBE.”

AT LARGE Fake News Tuesday: Parents Charged After Boy Sleeps In Pumpkin Patch

MINNEAPOLIS (CAP) - Authorities have charged a local couple with child endangerment after neighbors reported they let their 7-year-old son sleep in a pumpkin patch alone on Halloween night.

Fred and Nancy van Pelt of Roseville, a suburb of Minneapolis, were arrested at their home after their son, Linus van Pelt, turned up at the James Street Elementary School still suffering from the effects of hypothermia and muttering under his breath about being forsaken by a "Great Pumpkin."

"The poor kid - he was clearly delirious," said Ramsey County Sheriff Bob Fincher, who referred the case to the county's Child Protective Services department. "He had an old ratty blanket that he had wrapped around himself, and he was just shaking and mumbling."

Residents said they spotted the boy several times in a neighborhood pumpkin patch the night before, sitting among the pumpkins as his friends were enjoying tricks-or-treats. He was primarily alone, but was seen for a time accompanied by a neighbor, Sally Brown, 5, who is now being questioned by police psychiatrists.

Neighbors told CAP News that the boy believed he would be visited in the pumpkin patch by a so-called "Great Pumpkin," who would present him with toys. His parents may have fostered this charade as a form of psychological torture, authorities believe.

Ownership of the pumpkin patch has not been determined, but several local residents have noted that it has always seemed "extremely sincere."

Police are also looking into the well being of other area children who, after tricks-or-treats, apparently attended a Halloween party with no adults present. There, several girls allegedly drew a jack-o-lantern face on the head of a local bald boy; they are now facing charges under Minnesota's new bullying law.

One of the girls in question, whom authorities declined to name, described their victim as a "stupid blockhead," apparently showing no remorse.

[Read the rest at CAP News.]

COLUMN: I’ll take my free iPad now

Regular readers of this column may recall how, in 2005, I made a very public request to the Apple Corporation to send me a free iPod. Their response was a deafening silence, which was better than the anticipated restraining order, but only marginally.

Eventually I had to break down and buy one, but I am undeterred and have decided to get back on the free portable electronics horse (let’s call him “Chippy”) and request that Apple send me a complimentary iPad, their hugely popular tablet computer. Sure, I know that everyone wants a free iPad, but it just so happens that I have a particularly urgent need for the device’s primary function, which is to make you look cooler than you actually are.

That’s a function I’ve always needed, actually, with the possible exception of the period when I was the lead singer in my high school’s most popular rockabilly band. Oh wait, that was just who I wanted to be … I was actually the dweeby guy in the corner whose persona could have desperately benefited from an iPad that Steve Jobs had beamed back to the 1980s from his revolving space station.

Ah, but you say the iPad’s purpose is not to make you look cool but rather to help you better experience the Web, e-mail, photos and video. “You,” of course, are Apple’s marketing department, because everybody knows the real, actual reason you get one is to pull it out at every opportunity — at work, in a bar, at a Red Sox game, during an “intimate moment” — and watch the jaws drop around you. If drool results in some quarters, all the better.

I base this theory at least partially on the new study by the Neilsen Company that says a full one-third of iPad users have never even downloaded an “app” (short for “Appolonia”) for the device. Yes, I know that Neilsen later issued a correction and stated the actual number of users who hadn’t downloaded apps was more like 9 percent, but we can presume that Steve Jobs’ goons got to them in the interim. (I doubt Neilsen could actually be that far off on anything, although it would explain the 1976 cancellation of “Holmes and Yo-Yo.”)

Besides, I don’t need a study to show why people buy iPads. Take the guy in Seattle (where else?) who last week asked President Obama to sign his iPad, clearly to one-up the crowd of caffeine-addled liberal hipsters (including President Obama) surrounding him. Of course, the fact that the president did it will probably give the GOP another excuse to label him as elitist and out of touch, unlike Sarah Palin, who, when presented with an iPad to sign, shot it from a helicopter.

I’m not saying using an iPad to be popular is a good thing — we all know that what people should really be doing with their iPads is reading newspapers, so that the industry doesn’t implode. It’s ironic that just like with an iPad, reading a newspaper in public also draws the attention of strangers, although they mostly just stare and prod, like they just spotted a long-extinct reptile.

So Apple, if you send me my free iPad, I promise to give you unlimited promotion in this publication and on my blog, which have a combined audience equal to the ratings of “Holmes and Yo-Yo,” as reported by Neilsen, who is, obviously, drunk. You can send it to me care of this newspaper, but make sure to put my name prominently on the package, because frankly I don’t trust all those sports editors who hang around near the mail cubbies.

Or if it’s easier, you can just beam it to me.

Peter Chianca is a managing editor for GateHouse Media New England. Follow him on Twitter at twitter.com/pchianca. To receive At Large by e-mail, write to info@chianca-at-large.com, with the subject line “SUBSCRIBE.”

AT LARGE Fake News Wednesday: Study -- Office Workers Will Eat Literally Anything

WASHINGTON (CAP) - A new study out of the Pew Research Center shows that the average American office worker will eat anything put in front of him or her, as long as it's free of charge.

The study, conducted surreptitiously at more than 100 offices across the country, presented office workers with such meals as haggis, tripe and soft-boiled fetal duck, which is considered a delicacy in Vietnam and the Philippines. In each case, the meal was left in a well-traveled area - lunchroom, conference room, on a file cabinet, etc. - along with a sign such as Tripe - Please Eat!

"The results were fascinating," said Dr. Francis Spitznagel of the Pew Center. "No matter what the time of day, in every case, the dish was clean in less than an hour." Spitznagel noted that typically it took no longer than 15 minutes, but that a small lag time on the fetal duck skewed the average slightly.

In the second phase of the study, food was left without any type of identifying sign. "And we made sure it was also completely unrecognizable as foodstuff," said Dr. Spitznagel, noting that in one case they left a metal pot full of the pink meat paste used to make chicken nuggets - also known as mechanically separated poultry - along with a spoon and a stack of Styrofoam bowls.

"It was gone in an hour and a half," said Spitznagel.

The Pew study showed that employees in all professions were prone to eating food found around the office, although some were especially susceptible. For instance, print journalists were the most likely to suffer trample injuries while trying to beat their fellow workers to the last slice of crumb cake.

"Let's face it, we never know where our next meal is going to come from," said Karl Fender, a sports reporter for the Patriot Ledger in Quincy, Mass., where six employees have been hospitalized during free snack stampedes in the last year alone.

[Read the rest at CAP News.]

COLUMN: A tribute to the tribute bands

As many people who know me can tell you, I’m something of a fan of one Mr. Bruce Springsteen. It’s not like I go around broadcasting it or anything — I just have all his albums, have seen him in concert 10 or 15 times, write a blog about his achievements and spend most of my off hours wearing a white muscle shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a folded bandana wrapped around my forehead.

OK, maybe that last one is a bit of an exaggeration (and he hasn’t worn the bandana since 1985, people — get over it!). Regardless, I’m not alone; almost 40 years into his career, Springsteen still has millions of fans who buy his albums, see his concerts and spend their Saturday nights in theaters and bars watching Bruce Springsteen impersonators. Well, in the case of that last thing, maybe it is just me.

Yes, I’ll admit it: I have seen more than one Springsteen “tribute act” in my day, and plan to do so again this weekend, when New Jersey’s own B Street Band comes to town. I do this with full knowledge that there are hundreds of artists out there performing original material, and that one of them might turn out to be the next Bruce Springsteen. And yet I choose to spend my time and money seeing someone intent on being the current Bruce Springsteen, and even that only if you drink enough and squint.

I can’t disagree that there’s something vaguely unseemly about the whole tribute act concept, which may have begun in the ’70s with “Beatlemania” — I didn’t see it, but I’m pretty sure it featured Beatles look-alikes preserved in amber for future cloning. Then came the Elvis impersonators, whose efforts may have culminated in the work of “El Vez,” the entertainer who bills himself as “the love child of Elvis and Charo.” I saw El Vez perform in a bar in Somerville, Mass. more than 15 years ago, which would seem to indicate that I might have some sort of deep-seated chronic problem.

From that point it was only a matter of time until the world welcomed the 23 pages (!) worth of tribute acts listed at tribute-band.com. Many of them imitate superstars of the ’70s and ’80s, which is understandable, since these days it’s very difficult to get a ticket to see, say, the actual 1974 lineup of Led Zeppelin. But a lot of them are less obvious — for instance, did you know there are at least five working bands that bill themselves as tributes to ’90s heavy metal act Tool? Suddenly, El Vez is probably sounding pretty good.

I realize it’s hard to justify spending my hard-earned concert budget on bands pretending to be other bands, but I can’t help it — I still got a tingly feeling when I heard that a Billy Joel impersonator might be playing about a quarter mile from my house later this fall. After all, if I went to see the real Billy Joel, I’d have to drive to Boston or Foxboro and pay a fortune, and then I’d have to watch the current Billy Joel, who despite all the money I spent on his albums didn’t have the decency to keep his hair. If he looks like that, how must I look?

And while modern Springsteen concerts are still as good as ever, when I go to see the B Street Band this weekend, I’ll be driving just a few minutes, have plenty of free parking and be up close and personal with the band, which is much tougher to pull off at Gillette Stadium. (At the B Street Band’s local show last year my wife wound up on stage with a tambourine during “Rosalita,” but I promised never to talk about it.)

If you’re still skeptical, I’ll make you a deal: I’ll go see the next big up-and-coming young original artist if you join us at the B Street Band concert this weekend. Call me stuck in the past or unhealthily Springsteen-obsessed, but I predict you’ll be holding up signs with requests on them and rushing the stage with your fist pumping to “Badlands” by the end of the night.

Although just in case, don’t forget drink and squint.

Peter Chianca is a managing editor for GateHouse Media New England. Follow him on Twitter at twitter.com/pchianca. To receive At Large by e-mail, write to info@chianca-at-large.com, with the subject line “SUBSCRIBE.”

Columbus wasn’t Italian? Oh, maron!

Poor Christopher Columbus. He used be so popular, but these days he can't seem to catch a break. He's sort of like David Hasselhoff in that way.

And as if it wasn't bad enough that the Columbus movie was scored by Van Gelis, and that when you Google "Columbus genocide" you get 567,000 hits, now it turns out that the beleaguered hero to many Italian-Americans might not even have been Italian. According to one historian, he was actually Portuguese.

“It’s very simple,” he said. “The Italian theory of so-called Columbus theory was started after Columbus died ... I examined document from Portuguese side and documents from the Italian side. The Italians are all false. You practically have to be blind to see the documents in which the defenders of the Italian theory (believe). It’s wrong. It’s false.”

Well, all I have to say is, he better not tell these guys (warning: Lots of F-bombs):

COLUMN: The Columbus you never knew

More than 500 years after his death, Christopher Columbus remains one of the most controversial figures in history. Some think of him as a great seaman, others as a ruthless imperialist, and still others as the reason we won’t get mail on Monday.

Thanks to an important recent discovery, however, there is no longer reason to conjecture. This newspaper has learned that the Peabody Essex Museum in Salem has found the long-lost diaries from Columbus’ initial voyage, hidden behind a box of old fans and a rare 17th century La-Z-Boy recliner.

But does the diary resolve all of those burning historical questions about Columbus, such as: Why would anybody wear tights on a ship? For answers, we turn to the following exclusive excerpts:

July 26, 1492 — Just a week to go until I embark on my expedition to find a western route to India. Starting to regret making this bet with King Ferdinand. Reminder to self: No more wine coolers at Isabella and Ferdinand’s mutton parties.

Most preparations are set, but we still can’t decide what to name the third boat; we’re down to either the Santa Maria or the Miss Behavin’. (“Miss Behavin’” — get it? Sometimes I crack myself up.)

Aug. 2, 1492 — Set sail from the port of Palos in southern Spain. Still annoyed at getting outvoted on the boat name.

I’m concerned that Martín (“Marty”) Pinzón, who’s captaining the Pinta, is plotting against me. I thought I saw him making rabbit ears behind my head when I addressed the crews before embarking. Also, when I stopped by my quarters before we left, I caught him trying on my hat.

I hope we get to India quickly, because I’ve got a hankering for some Pork Vindaloo.

Aug. 9, 1492 — Winds and repairs have grounded us on the Canary Islands. I’m sorry to have stopped so soon, but at least the canaries here are beautiful.

Sept. 8, 1492 — Am officially sick of the &%$@! canaries.

Oct. 6, 1492 — We’ve been off the Canary Islands for close to a month now, and the crew is starting to get a little restless. I’ve tried to keep them occupied with ongoing trivia contests, but let’s face it, it’s 1492 and not a heck of a lot has happened yet.

Every night I awake to what sounds like carousing below the decks of the nearby Pinta. I can’t shake the feeling that Marty sneaked some girls on there at the last stop. Meanwhile, I’m stuck with 47 guys nicknamed “Stumpy.”

Oct. 12, 1492 — At last, we arrived in India. We greeted the Indians warmly, although they seemed a bit confused by the whole thing.

Nov. 15, 1492 — Our travels down the coast are concerning me, since the coastline doesn’t seem to match up with any of my maps. Also, where are all the silk salesmen? Could it be this is not India we’ve found at all, but some … new world?

Naaah.

Nov. 22, 1492 — Woke to find Marty and the Pinta sailing off on their own without permission. Word among the crew has it that he set off in search of gold; I suspect he’s grown fed up with my mandatory nightly sing-alongs. Either way, he’s out of this week’s drawing for a free scurvy screening.

Dec. 25, 1492 — A very depressing Christmas. For one, the Santa Maria grounded on a reef yesterday and today sank into the ocean. Also, the men gave me socks again.

As the Pinta deserted us and the Nina can’t fit the remaining crew, we’ll have to leave some men behind on a nearby island. To help pass the time, I’ve suggested that they vote one person off the island at the end of each week. Whoever’s left at the end will get 100 lira and a subscription to “Navigation Monthly.”

Jan. 6, 1493 — Came across Marty and the Pinta further down the coast. He claimed that his directions said to turn left when we hit India. I asked to see them but he said they were unfortunately eaten by a giant tortoise.

March 15, 1493 — Back in Spain at last! But was the first of my four expeditions the success I had hoped for? And more importantly, will I ever get a day named after me? Time will tell, but with the last seven months still fresh in my mind, I can say one thing for certain:

These tights are killing me.

Peter Chianca is a managing editor for GateHouse Media New England. This “Best of Chianca” column is from 2000. Follow him on Twitter at twitter.com/pchianca.

AT LARGE Fake News Thursday: Lawsuits Put Damper On 'Thresh Your Own Grain'

WAKEFIELD, N.H. (CAP) - Several lawsuits are threatening the popular "Thresh Your Own Grain" practice and other participatory activities at family farms, say local farmers.

Allowing visitors to use high-powered industrial threshers to separate large amounts of grain from stalks and husks has been the latest attempt on the part of struggling family farms to stay solvent. It follows promotions allowing guests to pick their own fruits and vegetables, shear their own sheep and spread their own manure.

"It's actually kind of amazing what affluent suburbanites will pay to do," said Tom Halverston of the National Farmers Union. "The irony is, we were getting to the point where we couldn't even get illegal Mexicans to do this stuff."

But the recent lawsuits could put an end to the practices, say industry experts.

"I know my client assumed threshing would be perfectly safe," said Mark Robertson, attorney for Karl Frankenheimer, a Massachusetts man who suffered several puncture wounds at Apple Time Farms in Wakefield, N.H., when he stuck his buttocks into the thresher "as a gag."

But farmers are saying the lawsuits are frivolous, and that allowing visitor participation has made all the difference in helping them stay afloat. "We've really cut costs since we've been able to stop doing most of the work ourselves, not to mention getting people to pay to do it for us," noted Robert "Farmer Bob" Isaacson of Cider Side Farms in Greenwood Village, Colo.

"It's not like we're not careful - there's a sign right there," he added, motioning to a hand-painted notice reading Warning: Thresher Sharp! along with a stick figure who appears to have lost a limb.

"The last thing these small family farms need is another obstacle to success," said singer and Farm Aid co-founder John Mellencamp, who debuted his new tribute song, Rain On The Thresher, at the latest Farm Aid concert, which was attended by more than three dozen people at a parking lot in Muncie, Ind. The song includes the lyrics:

Rain on the thresher, blood on the plow
My pumpkins have gone mushy and I'm down to my last cow
Son, I'm just sorry these stupid tourists keep threshing themselves, ow!

His fellow Farm Aid founder Willie Nelson was unavailable for comment, having been arrested for threshing under the influence at a pro-farmer rally in Ashwaubenon, Wis.

[Read the rest at CAP News.]

COLUMN: Resistance to Star Trek Cruise is futile

There are certain things people think when watching “Star Trek.” Things like, “Why are all those people wearing pajamas?” and “Why can’t the Army be more like Starfleet?” and “Why don’t any of the women I meet ever return my calls?” And then there are the people who think, “If I could just go on a cruise with the guy who played the Emergency Medical Hologram on ‘Star Trek: Voyager,’ my life would be complete.” This column is for you.

Because I received a press release recently with the following subject line: “SIRTIS, DE LANCIE, PICARDO, RODDENBERRY AND MASTERSON SET TO SET SAIL ON STAR TREK CRUISE 2010!” I love how they list those names as if I would have any idea that they were referring to Troi, Q, the Emergency Medical Hologram, Gene Roddenberry’s son and Leeta from “Deep Space Nine.” Um … I just, uh, looked those up on Wikipedia.

OK, so maybe I have watched a Trek or two or 10 over the years, and once attended a Star Trek convention (for work!), and saw “Star Trek VI” in Times Square the night it opened with a friend who was wearing a Picard uniform complete with chirping combadge (and whom I will not name in case he never mentioned that to his now-wife, who would probably disappear in the night). But that doesn’t mean I would want to spend an entire week on a Star Trek-themed cruise, unless the only other option was a Disney cruise; I think either Goofy or me would wind up going overboard, and between us, it wouldn’t be me.

Here’s how I picture a Star Trek Cruise: sort of like a regular cruise, except instead of bathing suits the passengers are wearing Starfleet uniforms, walking around the lido deck chirping their combadges and giving each other the Vulcan hand salute. OK, I know not everybody would be dressed like that — some would be dressed as Commissioner Bele from “Star Trek: TOS” Season 3, Episode 14, “Let That Be Your Last Battlefield.” Um … I just, uh, looked that up on … Oh, never mind.

But just when I thought I might be jumping to conclusions, I visited the Star Trek Cruise website, and it pretty much confirms that I was dead on — the main photo features an entire staircase full of pale people, some of them in costume, with fingers parted proudly in the traditional Vulcan manner. They all look completely at home, with the exception of one African-American guy in the corner with an “I’m So Street” T-shirt giving the gangster sideways peace sign. He looks like he was beamed there from some other, much hipper, cruise.

I guess I have to give the Star Trek stars credit for getting (literally) on board with this, no matter how much they may be getting paid. At least a Star Trek convention has a back door — here the only options for getting away from overzealous Trekkies are the lifeboats, or swimming to San Juan. And I can imagine how fans must react to Chase Masterson, who, in addition to being a Star Trek regular, was named one of the world’s “50 Sexiest Women” by Femme Fatales Magazine. The typical exchange probably goes something like this:

Chase Masterson: Nice to meet you! Are you a fan of the show?

Trekkie: [head explodes like the Klingon mining moon Praxis in “Star Trek VI”]

Still, you’ve got to admire the Trekkies for having the courage of their convictions. I’ll never forget when I went to that Star Trek convention (for work!) and saw someone buying an official deluxe Starfleet uniform. The guy behind the table asked him, “What rank?” and he responded, “Um … lieutenant commander?” Hey buddy, it’s your 60 bucks — go for captain!

People who take their entertainment that seriously probably have some serious fun when they get together for a week on the high seas. True, if you haven’t spent at least some mental energy during the last 20 years grappling with the question of Kirk vs. Picard, it may not be your thing. But if it is, you’d do a lot worse than spending a week with like-minded individuals in matching pajamas, hobnobbing with sort-of space celebrities — especially once that blue Romulan Ale starts flowing.

At least we know if things get out of hand, there’s an Emergency Medical Hologram in the house.

***

Note: I have been informed by reader "NXO1" of the following: "Cute article... However, being a Trek fan yourself, you should've known that the 'African-American guy in the corner' who 'looks like he was beamed there from some other, much hipper, cruise' is ANTHONY MONTGOMERY -- i.e., Ensign Travis Mayweather, series regular on Star Trek: Enterprise! He's one of the celebrity guests, not one of the fans! " Hmm ... Why do I feel better about myself for NOT knowing that?

AT LARGE Fake News Wednesday: Senate Republicans Suggest All-Gay Battalion

WASHINGTON (CAP) - With Republicans in the Senate last week shooting down the appropriations bill that would have repealed "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," Sen. Saxby Chambliss (R-GA) is proposing a compromise he's hoping both parties can get behind: an all-gay battalion.

"Everybody knows that having homosexuals serving alongside regular straight Christian soldiers gives those normal soldiers the heebie-jeebies," said Chambliss. "And soldiers with heebie-jeebies is bad for national security, probably."

Chambliss - who found himself under fire last week when an anti-gay slur posted on a gay issues blog was traced to his office - says a gay battalion would be "a fine compromise in terms of allowing homosexual Americans who want to serve in the military for some reason a way to do that, without the rest of the soldiers having to worry about being snorkeled."

When asked what he meant by "snorkeled," Chambliss said he was referring to the activity former Democratic Congressman Eric Massa was accused of performing on his Navy subordinates, "in a way that defiles the fine tradition of recreational underwater viewing."

"I haven't been able to look at the loggerhead turtles off the coast of Jekyll Island the same way since," Chambliss said.

Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell, R-Kentucky, immediately got behind the gay battalion suggestion. "I wish they had one of those when I was in the service," said McConnell. "Um, not because I would have wanted to serve in it. Because I'm not a homosexual.

"No matter what you may read on the Internet," he added.

Outside the Senate, the suggestion has been met with mixed reviews. Pop singer Lady Gaga, who has campaigned for months to repeal "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," said that gay servicemen and women needed to be allowed to be "out and proud" in any division of the armed services, "like those soldiers in Afghanistan who remade my Telephone video," she said.

"Geez, we are not gay!" said Sgt. Aaron Filcher, who directed the video, which went viral last spring. "Can't a bunch of soldiers living in tight quarters film themselves dancing in unison while dressed as Lady Gaga and Beyonce without being assumed to be gay?"

He added that he thought having a gay battalion would be "simply fabulous."

[Read the rest at CAP News.]

COLUMN: It’s Fred vs. Pee Wee Herman — to the death!

I spent a good chunk of my Saturday night watching “Fred the Movie” on the Nickelodeon channel. I’d say that it was two hours I’ll never get back, except I have a feeling they will return someday, if there is really such a place as hell.

For the uninformed among you — e.g., those of you without kids between 9 and 14, whoever you are — Fred is the “YouTube sensation” known for his squeaky voice and manic delivery, and the screaming … Good God, the screaming. I could try to explain further, but instead you should probably just click on this link and watch. Don’t worry, I’ll wait.

OK, now that you’ve seen Fred for yourself, you’re probably having difficulty reading this column because you’ve been distracted by the blood coming out of your eardrums.

What you might not know, though, is that as originally devised by young creator Lucas Cruikshank, Fred was supposed to be 6 years old, which would (sort of) explain why he acts like he just ingested a barrel full of sugar cubes. But in “Fred the Movie” he’s been aged to 15 without changing his behavior, making it feel like you’re watching a mentally challenged person humiliate himself for two hours. In other words, it’s exactly like every other show on Nickelodeon.

I watched it because I wanted to interpret it for my kids, who are 9 and 11; I ruin a lot of their entertainment for them in this way, because that’s my job. And I’ll admit there were a few funny moments, including some with John Cena, the professional wrestler who plays Fred’s (imaginary?) father and has a habit of picking him up and smashing him against coffee tables, in a supportive kind of way.

But I couldn’t help but wonder: Has there ever been a mainstream children’s movie with so much vomit in it? Somehow I can’t picture Walt Disney looking at the rough cut of “Mary Poppins” and declaring, “It needs more heaving!” “The Parent Trap,” maybe.

Now, you might say Fred is just this generation’s Pee Wee Herman, Paul Reubens’ manic man-child of the 1980s. This is an assertion to which there is only one possible logical response: I served with Pee Wee Herman; I knew Pee Wee Herman; and Fred … I know you are but what am I! Heh… That never gets old.

For one thing, Pee Wee was the master of his domain (so to speak): He lived in a cool house all by himself, had awesome contraptions, a great bicycle and seemed like a generally well-respected member of his community, as evidenced by the fact that James Brolin wound up playing him in the movie within the movie. And he had no trouble hitchhiking to the Alamo to find his missing bike, whereas Fred can barely get up the nerve to take a bus across town to visit Judy, the “girlfriend” whom he spends the entire movie stalking — he’s sort of like DeNiro in “Taxi Driver,” if DeNiro were a chipmunk.

The way I see it, Pee Wee at least had some panache, in that he didn’t vomit on anyone, much less the girl he was in love with, and his movie didn’t end with him making a YouTube video where everybody vomits, thus somehow making him the most popular kid in school and the apple of the formerly vomit-covered girl’s eye. Yet this (spoiler alert!) is how “Fred the Movie” ended, leading me to wonder: I made it all the way to the end?

But after suffering through it, I figured I needed to at least turn it into a teachable moment for my kids, so as to completely erase any fond feelings they still might have harbored about the evening. So I put on “Pee Wee’s Big Adventure,” and guess what? My son said he found it “even funnier than Fred.”

I know he was probably just trying to humor me, but after two hours of bodily excretion jokes, I say I deserve his pity.

Peter Chianca is a managing editor for GateHouse Media New England. Follow him on Twitter at twitter.com/pchianca. To receive At Large by e-mail, write to info@chianca-at-large.com, with the subject line “SUBSCRIBE.”

COLUMN: Killer robots are lying in wait

My readers are always saying to me, “Pete, why do you keep writing about robots when there is actual news going on in the world, like Paris Hilton getting arrested?” And my response is always the same: “Where did you get this number?”

But the real reason I keep writing about robots is because scientists, who have apparently never seen even a single “Terminator” movie, keep doing robot-related things that seem destined to bring about the end of humanity as we know it. It’s like they’re in some kind of twisted competition with the guys in the next lab developing the deadly strains of bacteria.

In the latest incident, researchers at the Georgia Institute of Technology have apparently come up with a robot that can convincingly lie to you. It seems robots have to be taught this behavior, unlike, say, teenagers, who do it naturally as a defense mechanism. But just because we can teach a robot to lie, does that mean we should? Isn’t that sort of like training a pit bull to distract you with gooey puppy-dog eyes right before it chews your arm off?

But the Georgia scientists apparently see a need for lying robots. For instance, they say a medical robot with a badly injured patient might need to avoid saying something thruthful that would cause the person to panic (“Sir, the possibility of you surviving this mishap is approximately 3,720 to 1,” etc.). Or a spy robot might have to deceive an enemy into thinking it’s a simple peasant girl, or a can opener.

But never fear, one of the developers told Science Daily: “Most social robots will probably rarely use deception.” Of course, that’s what they said about Paris Hilton.

I know there are those out there who think I’m just overreacting, like that time I launched a campaign to ban the word “poop.” (Turns out there are worse words your kid could be saying — who knew?) But before you dismiss my concerns, you should try doing a Google News search for “robots,” keeping in mind that doing so will automatically register you in the Google Robot database, making you one of the first people the robots round up after they mobilize.

Here are just a few recent news stories that pop up:

· The one about the $400,000 robot that can fold your laundry, even though for that price you can hire a human to do it, or even several dozen humans. You know people are upset about illegal aliens when they’re willing to pay $400,000 for a robot to do the work Americans won’t do.

· The one about the artificial “e-skin” that will allow robots to “feel,” in addition to hiding their metal endoskeleton and glowing red eyeballs from their human prey until it’s too late. I’m extrapolating a little for that last part.

· The one about newly developed robot snakes that come with flashlights and hidden cameras, which sounds fine until one is working you down its metallic gullet before ejecting you as bio-pellets.

With that in mind, I plan to keep pounding the killer robot drum until someone listens to me, or until we’re all working in forced robot labor camps, which I realize is probably more likely to happen first. (Never tell me the odds!) In the meantime, we can only hope someone actually comes up with a robot that can do something useful for humanity.

Turning Paris Hilton into bio-pellets might be a good start.

Peter Chianca is a managing editor for GateHouse Media New England. Follow him on Twitter at twitter.com/pchianca. To receive At Large by e-mail, write to info@chianca-at-large.com, with the subject line “SUBSCRIBE.”

AT LARGE Fake News Tuesday: Obama Glad Pastor Didn't Burn "My Beloved Quran"

WASHINGTON (CAP) - In what some are calling a telling slip of the tongue, President Barack Obama Saturday thanked Gainesville, Fla. Minister Terry Jones for "not burning my beloved Quran, the true compilation of the verbal revelations given to the Holy Prophet Muhammad."

He then paused for a moment and added, "Did I just say that out loud?"

Not surprisingly, Obama backtracked the next day, telling reporters he was just referring to the Quran's importance to the Muslim religion, and not to his personal feelings about the book. "I certainly don't ritually wash before I read it," he noted. "Um, when I read it, that is. Which is never."

He then pulled a copy of the King James Bible out of his desk drawer, and said, "If you don't believe me, I'll swear on a stack of these things - this holy book revered and read daily by us, you know, Christians."

When reporters noted the Bible was still sealed in its plastic wrapper, Obama abruptly stopped taking questions, knelt on his hands and knees on the small rug in front of his desk to "find a lost contact lens," muttered what some believe sounded like "Glory to my Lord Allah, the Most High Most Praiseworthy," and left the room hurriedly.

"This is no mere slip of the tongue - the president's statement showed his true colors," said conservative commentator Glenn Beck. "By which I mean black, in an Arab-y kind of way."

Beck, who recently held his "Restoring Honor" rally in front of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C., noted that he did not burn any Qurans at his event. "Because frankly I didn't think of it," he said, breaking down in a steady stream of tears and sobs for several minutes.

Obama's comments come in the wake of the weeks-long controversy over the Rev. Terry Jones' plans to burn Qurans on Sept. 11 at his Dove World Outreach Center in Gainesville. Jones scrapped the event at the last minute after a slew of calls asking him not to burn the books, including ones from U.S. Defense Secretary Robert Gates, former President Jimmy Carter, actress and U.N. Goodwill Ambassador Angelina Jolie and hotel heiress Paris Hilton, although "We're pretty sure Hilton was just trying to score some coke," said Cpl. Tscharna Senn of the Gainesville Police Department.

[Read the rest at CAP News.]