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You gotta be careful in here, kid. You may be wearin’ your stripes, but you ain’t earned your stripes. Go it alone and you’ll make mistakes. You’ll hitch yourself to the wrong post, get saddled up and sold to the highest bidder. Stick by me and you might stand half a chance, but you’re gonna hafta listen.

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What’s that?

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Oh, that’d be on Tuesdays. Not a bad spread. Pickles. Onions. Standard. You’ll learn the menu. More important is this here yard. How you carry yourself. Who you trust. Take that fella at the bench press for example, the one with the dark beard and forearms thick as your chest. Name’s Bluto. Doin’ a dime for kidnappin’ a woman. That’s right, a sailor man’s wife. Threw her over his shoulder and took her down to the docks. Oh, he’ll rough you up right, but keep a can of spinach in your hip pocket and he’ll think twice. I don’t understand the science, but that there is the formula. Spinach.

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Agreed, kid. Coupla sizzlin’ patties will beat a can o’ the green any yesterday or tomorrow, but that’s not what we’re talkin’. We’re talkin’ today and today is about the disco and the disco is about stayin’ alive. Have a look here. Skinny character sporting the lime suit? Question mark on his chest? That don’t mean he’s the information booth. No sir. Say a word to that crafty SOB and he’ll come at you like the Sphinx, all riddles ‘n giggles. Next thing you know you’ll be chummin’ around with a psycho circus clown and runnin’ from some pointy-eared, gravelly voiced vigilante. No. Thank. You. Best to steer clear of that riddler entirely.

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Beats me! I wouldn’t know if his riddles are about ground beef or ground cinnamon for that matter, because I don’t talk to the man! Aren’t you listenin’? Better be. Your eyes ain’t gonna tell you what my twenty-seven years behind this barbed wire knows to be true. Another example. You probably look over at that strung-out orange beaky guy and think, “well that’s just some ol’ cuckoo junkie.” You’d be right about that. But that ol’ cuckoo junkie goes by the name of Sonny, and Sonny knows where to score the sweet stuff, if you catch my meaning. Sonny is just cuckoo for it, smuggles it past the guards in cereal boxes. You want a taste, that’s your bird.

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I guess he could get you some, but why not wait till Tuesday? Like I said, they fire up that flame-broiler on Tuesdays. Sonny’s got no time to bother with no fast-food. Wisen up, boy, or you’ll end up runnin’ with them Hanna Barberas and let me tell you, that gang’s no Laff-a-Lympics. Sure, some of them hustlas may talk a soft game, soundin’ like Casey Casem or Paul Lynde, but they will be quick to shank a new fish if they even suspect you’re conspirin’ with the ascotted and far-sighted and snack-gobblin’ brand o’ meddlin’ teenagers. Dig? Of course you don’t. I’m not spellin’ it out in ketchup. These are the type of gangstas that dress as ghosts and swamp thangs and go hauntin’ just so they can shut down orphanages! That enough to scare you? Oh and don’t get me started on the Orphans! That’s another gang. A more Dickensian band of bandits you have not seen. If it ain’t your porridge they’re after, it’s your inheritance. You work the chimney sweep detail and you’ll be pits-deep in those mangy lads, singing show-tunes while they pick your pocket. You’re better off

Apple is on the verge of launching (its cloud music service, with a major leg up on the competition: it has contracts with three of the four major music labels and is likely to nail down the last one soon. In other Apple news, it has a pending law... Read the rest of this post

Q: If Ronald is the mascot of McDonald’s and Hamburglar is the hamburger, then what kind of food is Grimace?

A: Apparently, he’s neither an eggplant nor a rotten pickle that went astray in the stock room. McDonald’s folks refer to Grimace as a big fuzzy purple fellow who, according to them, is Ronald McDonald’s good buddy. His clumsiness causes loads of trouble in the McDonaldlandia, but that just goes to represent the tyke in every fries-loving dude.

Q: Why do we yawn when we feel sleepy?

A: Theory No.1: A yawn is your body’s operandi to take more oxygen into blood while yanking more carbon dioxide out of your fluid. It happens as an auto reflex, which means it’s implemented the same way the traffic enforcer executes traffic rules: you’re left with no choice. But sleepless nights of research have shown that neither more O2 nor breathing more CO2 affects your yawning frequency level. So junk that.

Theory No.2: yawning stretches the lung tissue to increase heart rate and wake up sleeping muscles and joints, which may be true.

Theory No.3: yawning is a system to redistribute surfactant, a fluid that lubricates lungs to keep them in tip-top shape.

Q: How does a lie detector work?

A: A lie detector is polygraph machine that tracks the physiological changes in the subject’s blood, breathing pulse, and perspiration. Notice how your partner tends to sweat more and gasp for breath when they tell you that they came when in fact they just faked it?  That’s pretty much how this clever catcher works, too. the subject is asked “yes” or “no” questions and the truth level is measured through the rise or fall in the sensors.