Enjoy.

I pre-ordered.

Minutes after arriving at Scott Clark's apartment Friday, college friend Marc Karam, 26, announced that he didn't really have any plans in mind for his visit, and that he would be fine doing pretty much whatever this weekend. "Up to you, man—I'm down for anything," said Karam, suggesting the two could just walk around the city for a while, check out Fisherman's Wharf, hang out in the apartment, or maybe see what Brent's up to later. "Honestly, I'm just here to see you, so it really doesn't matter to me. And hey, if you got stuff you need to do, just go do it. I brought my laptop." Clark later suggested that the two could go to Chinatown, which Karam rejected, saying he'd rather do something he hasn't done before.

The Onion understands reality.

Choice.

Also, the new Beavis and Butthead episodes are excellent.

Yeah, I'm also *that* guy.

Okay, first we have to assume a few stated facts from both franchises, but namely Hogwarts.

• Technology isn't supposed to work well (if at all) on the grounds
• With this limitation there is no drop in, Predator must approach on foot.
• Wizards are not inherantly stupid, they will notice classmates missing, this means element of surprise must inflict severe casualties.
• Cloaking will not work (technology)
• Predator is aware of technological disadvantage in effect, brings explosives and weapons with simplistic function / manual detonation (i.e fuse-type grenades, etc.) He is heavily armed but will require melee for majority of specified kills.
• Predator must leave with trophies of Faculty/significant skulls. He has no previous understanding of hogwarts society structure, will go off of prowess in battle, personal decoration, prowess of leadership, other visual cues. Predator does not understand English.
• Hogwarts is ENTIRELY UNFAMILIAR with Predator tactics/history. They do not understand what it wants, how it acts, and its limitations.

How much do I make? Sometimes, I simply can't put a price on what I do.

Two years ago, I was kidnapped by monkeys, who appeared to be in a trance. They took me to the top of the Swayambhunath Buddhist complex, in Kathmandu. I was told that this was the Monkey Temple. As a monk translated the wishes of the holy monkeys, I discovered that I was required to rewrite the OS of their ancient computer, which had failed to reboot, back in 1839. Since then, they had searched the world for a programmer competent to handle the situation. They were about to give up, as they stumbled onto me, and realized that I was the reincarnation of ChiChu Gomptar, the lead programmer for the CS monkey gang, which had served their monkey king, the creator of this computer. I was flummoxed by its design, as it was made of smooth stones, uniform beads, colored sand, and wooden levers inlaid with gold. I told them that I couldn't remember anything from my past life. They gave me something to smoke, saying that it would connect me, through the eternal ether, to my previous memories.

It did, and after 25 days of extreme programming, of which I recall no details, I had completed the monumental task. I stood up, and ceremoniously dropped the special IPL bead onto the machine, which then awoke from its 170-year slumber with a mighty roar. The holy monkeys were pleased. They handed over a small golden box, with mysterious carvings. It seemed empty, and I was told not to open it unless my circumstances had become truly dire. I thanked them, both for the box, and for the tremendous experience. Unfortunately, I was not able to sell them continued maintenance for their new OS, but that was mostly due to their language not having the word "maintenance". Anyway, I have those memories, and this box to use when things go really bad, plus the always-present hope of future adventure.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swayambhunath http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Initial_Program_Load

Precisely.

Did you hear about the dog that can tell if you have cancer by sniffing your breath? It's true. Apparently the dog can pick up a slight chemical signature for lung cancer.

This story made me sad because I spent years training my dog to detect bad breath by sniffing my ass. That stupid cancer dog makes my accomplishment seem less important. But detecting bad breath the way I trained Snickers to do it is a lot harder, so I still own that. And the good news is that according to Snickers, my breath is always minty fresh. Yours is okay too; that's how good she is.

I also taught Snickers to detect the Elephant Man disease. The "all clear" signal involves humping the patient's leg. Snickers checks out every visitor to the house. So far, knock on wood, everyone who has ever come to the house is clear. And that's good on two levels, because I taught Snickers to attack if she detects the disease. I'm not being cruel; I just didn't want Snickers' signal to be something subtle that I might miss, and I hate barking.

If Snickers ever detects Elephant Man disease, it will be sad because there's no cure. But if a patient decides to travel somewhere for plastic surgery, the least I can do is offer to help pack his trunk. Seriously, that's literally the least I can do. Just above that is not being a douche bag, and I can't always pull that off.

Meanwhile, my cat has trained me to detect obesity in cats. The signal is that my spine separates in four places when I try to lift her off the couch. If I lose sensation below the waist, I'll know I have at least one spinal gap. I'm not entirely sure how I'll know if I have the other three. I might have to rethink the whole system. But I refuse to sniff her ass. That's just one of the reasons I could never be a veterinarian.

Scott's timing with his writing and comedy is simply superior. Holy crap this is good.