Tag Archives: headline

Fox News Snippet of the Day: “Are Orgasms Really All That?”

She wondered as she examined her husband’s bruised body.
10091819ADiego en mis pensamientos, by Frida Kahlo


CNN News Snippet of the Day: What’s So Wrong With Being Childless?

He asks sincerely.
5531Erasmus, by Hans Holbein the Younger

CNN News Snippet of the Day: How to ID Covert Cop Cars

Three generations of teaching kids to disguise themselves cleverly and strike back.

gensThe Actor Lekain in the Role of Gengis Khan, by Unknown Author; The Hit, by Fredrick Leighton

Fox News Snippet of the Day: New GOP Forerunner

After Obama the need for fresh leadership was clear as a bell.
62067Portrait of Edward VI as a Child, by Hans Holbein the Younger

Fox News Snippet of the Day: Advertising Exec Holds Ex Wife Hostage

All he wanted was her first born son.
3371The Natchez, by Eugene Delacroix

CNN News Headline of the Day: Personal Details of UK Spy Chief on Facebook

The Marchesa Casati, by Giovanni Boldini

Marchesa: “Ahh just me and my fine, black dogs today, how fun.”

Dog 1: Hey, I know what we could do! We could update your facebook, maybe add all the new books you have read lately like that new horridly misleading John Grisham novel about spies, or the Mata Hari thriller.”

Marchesa:”Dear me, you are quite the wellspring of education, maldito hijo de puta.”

Dog 1: “When you argue in an Oriental language it is near impossible to understand you. It’s quite becoming.”

Dog 2: “Oh, Mistress Marchesa, I have a better idea. Why don’t we write our own book and make it available for all our, I mean your, friends. Something like “Chameleon Shifters are the New Bildebergs: Tales from the Black Box”

Marchesa: “Well, I must not reveal my employers name too blatantly. I must name it “Tales from the Black Box: A Chameleon in the Big City. Speaking of which, I must go now.”

Dog 1: “Are you joking? You’re hardly discreet in that outfit. You do realize that in America Lincoln has already been shot and buried?”

Marchesa: “What do you know of being a ‘shifter? I have to make an appearance at the Intercontinental this afternoon. What am I supposed to wear–a jumper?”

She began to laugh in a manner strikingly similar to a seal.

Dog 1: No, but something that allows people to think you kiss babies rather than stuff them.

Dog 2: “Just be thinking about that book. I think Chapter One could be about the time that you got lost in a Polish village. While wandering around you stumbled upon a little old lady who thought you were the prettiest thing she had ever seen, not guessing you had just assassinated the entire bevy of church deacons and archbishops. If I remember correctly, within two weeks you had mastered the language, wooed a descendant of the Hapsburgs, and used their funds to return home to us. I remember how lonely and cold those days were without you,” he said furrowing his brow.

Marchesa: “I’m going to be late. Can’t have them thinking that I was busy taping a wire to my chest or making illicit phone calls now can I? Ta ta.”

“Don’t worry I’ll write it all up for you while you’re gone!” Dog 2 shouted as the door slammed behind her.

Fox News Headline of the Day: Who’s the Daddy?

absintheThe Absinthe Drinker, by Edgar Degas

“Should I approach the ruffian to my left? He smells of piss and the docks of Rotterdam. I wonder if that is because he has recently been with a woman. He looks like he would believe me if I told him I were to have a virginal birth.”

She sank lower in her seat, and her eyelids passed over the shimmering green glass and dropped down to the golden scarf. “This was give to me by the man who called me his “ginger puss,” for my rust colored hair, and, I suspect, my inverted nipples. He was a Swiss warlock, cast out from Lausanne, and once told me that in Switzerland there is a legend of the absinthe fairy. If you drink this, they say, at twilight in Amsterdam, she will give you visions in which she takes the form of the father. The next day he bid me farewell.”

She picked up the glass and let all the absinthe slide down her throat. After a few minutes, she began to shake the man next to her, “You got me pregnant!” she yelled in his face. He turned to her, still with his hand-rolled tobacco still tight between his lips and said, “Remove your hands from me and I’ll tell you who did it. It wasn’t me. I once had an unfortunate pony accident.”

Her eyes shone bright with hopeful tears. “He was a virgo. Very little arm hair,” he said, gazing deeply into her amber eyes. “A Jesuit priest. An alchemist. A correspondent of Helen of Troy.”

He leaned closer and she could smell hints of vanilla. “Sound familiar?” he breathed. She recripocated the gesture and hugged her body to him with a new ferocity. “Oh thank you, my sweet fairy!”

She walked out into the red lights, determined to reunite with her prince.