Welcome once again to Pop Culture Frenzy. Today we look at a photo that has gone viral. It features US President Barack Obama and the Italian Prime Minister standing outside of an office on a balcony. Mr. Obama has an object in his hand that looks very much like a pack of cigarettes. When Press Secretary Josh Ernest was asked if this was indeed a pack of cigarettes, he said no. Then he got snippy about it.
OK. It wasn't cigs in the photo. What was POTUS holding in his hand?
A Dime Bag?
An I pod?
Hostmaster: incorrect. Though it does seem likely that he'd want the Italian Prime Minister to hear all those speeches that he missed.
The press secretary has more important
things to know about than what Obama
has in his hand.
Even when he is smiling, the
president looks crabby.
He's probably hungry.
He had some cookies?
Hostmaster: incorrect. Though the crabby part is correct, it seems to me.
A mirror compact so he can
look at himself?
This is so racist.
They never questioned
Bush this way.
Hostmaster: yeah, right. Bush was never questioned. Ever. But when he was, it was always respectful. Cuz he's white or something.
You know, this isn't a joke.
Cigarettes are more addictive than
So the President of the United States
feels he must deny his addiction?
No wonder he's crabby.
If e cigarettes weren't defamed,
regulated and taxed so much
maybe Obama could use this less
toxic alternative of nicotine.
At least until, you know, he's out of
office and isn't subject to the awful
scrutiny of the world.
Hostmaster: that makes too much sense, Bryan.
It is outrageous that we
are even talking about this.
There is so much rape and
injustice happening on college
campuses and we are talking
about Obama's personal life.
We could be watching Mattress Girl's
performance art instead of speculating
on this piffling matter!
Since the White House is not likely to tell us what the president had in his hand, we don't know the answer. This round could go on forever. Let's end it.
There are no winners.
That is true in so many ways.
Special thanks to Misred and Sonny for their unintended assistance!
Ducks are ducks, ducks are drakes. The female duck is called a duck (though ornithologically speaking, the term hen is correct). Male ducks are called drakes.
The sex of ducklings is not always obvious. Sometimes the color of the beak is a clue to the sex of the duck. This method is not always reliable.
In some species that feature brightly feathered males and drably feathered females, the sex of the duckling is pretty clear when the feathers come in.
When you can't tell by obvious feathers, there is the quack test. When very young, all ducklings make a squeaking sound. After several weeks, the voice changes. Females begin to quack. Males lack the voice box construction to make the quack sound, so they pretty much continue to squeak.
There is another way to determine the sex of ducklings. It involves grabbing the duck, turning it upside down, locating a certain opening on the lower abdomen and pressing your thumb and fingers around the area. Under this pressure, if the duckling is a boy, a body part will poke out of the hole. If nothing emerges, it's a girl.
Or you could wait a few more months and see if you can catch a gal in the act of laying an egg.
Welcome once again to Pop Culture Frenzy. The folks that make Oreo Cookies are releasing a new flavor to celebrate the season. The cookies will be available May 22nd where ever seasonal cookies are sold. I guess.
What is this special addition Oreo flavor?
Hostmaster: incorrect. You surprise me, Bryan. You usually think out of the dog box.
Ok. Let's see. Late spring. hmmm.
Hostmaster: incorrect. Nice effort though.
Strawberry Daiquiri ?
Hostmaster: incorrect. Sounds like somebody likes boat drinks.
Hostmaster: incorrect. Though it may be correct. There is rumor that they made a Cotton Candy flavored Oreo Cookie at some point. Maybe it's an urban legend. Ah, who cares? I could give you half a point but well, I don't care.
Hostmaster: incorrect. To date, Oreo has made no road kill flavors.
They've been in the basement growing under a brooder light. You don't realize how smelly ducks can be till you've shared your home with them for a few weeks. Now they've feathered up and are officially the outdoor birds they were hatched to be.
The ducks show no sign of missing the hard basement floor. There is lush grass outside.
Ah, spring. The grass is greening up, trees are budding. Hungry ticks lie in wait.
Ticks have four life cycles: egg, larval, nymph and adult. They eat nothing but blood throughout their lives. There are two general types of ticks: hard and soft. Adult hard ticks look roughly like a sunflower seed. They have a hard shell behind their mouth parts (mouth parts -as in- what looks like it's head. As though ticks aren't creepy enough, they sort of don't have a head.) Soft ticks resemble a raisin. Hard ticks tend to feed on dogs and cats and people while soft ticks prefer birds and bats.
The usual scenario finds a tick waiting in the grass or on a shrub. When a warm blooded animal passes close by, the tick climbs aboard. Then the stowaway tick makes its way to a spot on that animal to settle in, bite into the skin, then hang there and eat. It takes several days for a tick to eat it's fill.
Ticks are Arachnids. Other members of the Arachid family are spiders, mites and scorpions. These creatures, when full grown, have fours pair of legs and no antennae. (Insects have three pair of legs and one pair of antennae.)
When you find a newly arrived tick on you or your dog you can remove it with the sticky side of a piece of tape. However, if the tick has been on the body for a while, it'll have dug it's fangs in, so you'll need to pull it off, ideally with tweezers, aiming close to the skin so as to get all of the tick off.
Now. Kill it.
Less than one finger of alcohol does the job. Teetotalers find soapy water works too.
Not only do ticks leave their unwilling host feeling an awful bodily violation, there's also a grim chance the tick will leave a disease behind. Then there's the unpleasant paranoia that comes after one finds a tick on the body of oneself or a loved one. Every smallish object from a pebble to a piece of lint becomes the specter of doom and defilement.
Then there's the formication. You know, that ghastly tactile hallucination whereby one feels there is something crawling on the skin.
To paraphrase Waylon Jennings. Are you ready for the country, are you ready for ticks?