Miracle Gro, Round 2: We Have Pictures

We last left our hero worried about setting the apartment on fire. He extinguished the smoking soil with water.

But it came back.



I do not use this as an ashtray. I only use it to put out cigarettes. The smell was blazing this morning, but trying to get my daughter to school, I didn't have time to investigate.

After the discovery, and after pushing away the cover soil, I was left with this:



I'm not trying to downside the wonderful growing potential Miracle Gro gives to its plant constituents, but when things fall in the court of watering pots of plants with its product, it's hard not to see how people can use fertilizers to make bombs.

Miracle Gro, say it ain't true!

Bingo? On the Television?

What has the world come to?

I'll not be poo-pooing all the suck that comes from the TV, but sometimes you see something on television and your eyes beging to bleed - just a bit at first - and you wail inside at the depravity of our human condition and are inspired to write a treatise on what we should be doing with our existence here on this wet rock. Or blog.

I had such an unfortunate experience not long ago when I caught the promo for National Bingo Night. This is the kind of game show that's so absurd, it shows up in a movie as a tip o' the hat to the absurdity of game shows.

You see, you play bingo. And people can play at home too. "Where's the gimmick?" you say. Ask the 25 foot tall bingo ball hopper:



"Well, that's kind of cool, but no way it's better than Deal or No Deal," you say. Ah-ha! But it is! Banking on the huge success of bald Howie, they've gone one better:



And girls? He's British!

It all starts this Friday, May 19th, and thus, the end of civilization as we know it begins. At this grave time, I can only leave you with blue balls, sixty-nine, and a lady in a little red dress.