Bear trap for criminal dicks.

It took a woman named Sonnet to invent a potentially rape deterring device called the Rape-aXe.

It is sad that women are forced to take such creative and delightfully pain inducing measures to avoid being attacked by men. But, medical technician Sonnet Ehlers lives in South Africa, a country plagued by rape. Apparently inspired by a patient who told her "If only I had teeth down there," Sonnet got busy and provided women with the option of having teeth down there. Teeth that would sink nicely into the soft dick tissue of a rapist scumbag.

And, if it can't deter the rape, it will give the rapist a painful surprise on the very first thrust.

The technology is literally a female latex condom embedded with "teeth", inward facing spikes--like freshwater fish teeth--that can be inserted into the vagina like a tampon.

If a penis goes in, it is pierced by the barbs. And thanks to physics, the withdrawl is extremely painful. This could allow the women to escape while the rapist crumples on the floor, shrieking in agony and trying to tear the device from his wounded prick. Which will only make matters worse.

The Rape-aXe stays dug into the criminal's shaft like eagle talons, and can only be removed surgically.

WOW! I love it!

"Well doctor, my wife had a new box of Rape-aXe stored near the shower stall. I slipped on some soap, inadvertently penetrating the damn box and somehow ending up with one of these things perfectly embedded on my cock. My wife, well, she's away on business. But I called her and though she's concerned, we did find the humour in it. Her name is...Ssssa...andra. No, I have no criminal record. I work for the post office. Listen, could we just keep this between us, you know, man to man? It's such an embarrassing incident, I'd hate the cops to have to get involved and embarrass my wife. Will the removal hurt? Oh, it will. Will it hurt a lot? Okay. Will I bleed? Oh, I will bleed. Oh, that's not good. Doc, can I lie down for a second, I feel faint."

Coke Captured.

Jamaican drug lord, gunrunner and ugly transvestite Christopher Coke was captured yesterday in Kingston. He immediately agreed to be extradited to the US and face the wrath of American Justice in NYC.

Jail in Jamaica must be terrifying, making Attica look like an Avon home party.

25 Best Horror movies ever.

I can't rank them. But here is a list of the horror movies that have burned themselves into my consciousness.


Psycho
Halloween
Texas Chainsaw Massacre
The Vanishing (Dutch original)
The Exorcist
The Shining
Friday the 13th
The Fly
The Evil Dead
Carrie
Videodrome
Dawn of the Dead
Let The Right One In
Inside
The Omen
Jaws
A Nightmare on Elm Street
Frankenstein (original)
The Wolfman (original)
Near Dark
Salem's Lot (Tobe Hooper's TV Movie)
The Changeling
Rosemary's Baby
Hellraiser
Silence of the Lambs

Dr. Nothing.

Sometimes during the week, I get dressed for a stroll along the boardwalk. I watch the barometric pressure closely and prefer the overcast and unnaturally chilly days; far fewer recreational walkers and barking dogs. I used the word stroll, which I normally wouldn't, because I cannot have walk and board WALK in the same sentence. This would make me seem uneducated.

And I am educated. Highly educated, as a matter of fact, highly over-educated. I was in University from 1992 to 2003. I have two BA's, a MASTERS and a PHD, all in different disciplines. I had seven girlfriends in this time, one pregnancy scare and a serious medical condition. Other than the academic titles, not much to show for 14 years of life.

But I thrived in the undemanding banality of those years. I studied in a glorified realm of academia for 14 years of my life to graduate as a first class Doctor of nothing. And I never planned on leaving it.

For some reason, I walk better in my oldest pair of briefs, which have shrunken not uncomfortably from over-washing. I cringe at all the trended types in their brand name sportswear. I step out in my old school Adidas track pants. I used to wear them every other day in grade 8. They are period blue, slim fit, zippered to the calf and have stirrups under each foot.

I do feel some power dressed like this. I know I am appraised. Good. Look at me closely when I can't catch your eye, then jog right back to your pathetic, porn addicted husband and your std riddled teens. Have a bottle of Pinot Gris, two Ambien and dream of a world without witches.

I check the barometric pressure and peek out the blind. Seems consistent with the last reading.

If my Grandfather's money didn't run out, I might still be a student of knowledge and theory. And I wonder if I wouldn't be better cast this way for eternity. A hungry academic with money can survive in university for decades. If the money flow ends, the academic is thrust onto society and society onto the academic.

This is never a symbiotic union.

I can do warm-ups in my room. The floor doesn't creek if I jog on the spot near the dresser. It's good to warm the muscles before action. I lie down and do stretches. The hamstrings need some work.

Like most of you have come to realize, day to day life is a horrendous circle, pulverizing us with insufferable calculation, without buffer nor fail safe in 7 day cycles. It's as if my window blind is the lone, fragile barrier against the utter absurdity of the Outside. Hostile and cruel are the times, and they are lashed to a clock which promotes a cruel and hostile future.

The carpet of my room is musty and unclean, but it's thick and holds me off the 2nd floor boards, which is a floor above the ground floor where just outside the chaos reigns.

I cherish the walls surrounding me. I touch the power outlets and rejoice in their universal anonymity. I can still boil water and passively receive a radio signal. I can make a true French omelet within these walls, but I won't own a phone. I can roll my own cigarettes here, untaxed by the left hand and unjudged by the right. It is a small, yet comfortable life here.

I am ready. Muscles are warm. Suit is fitting nicely. I take a look past the blind.

Sunshine. Oh No. It was just prefect minutes ago.

I'll just sit down and relax. I am sure it will cloud over soon. I can jog later. I don't jog at night but I have all the time in the day.

If the climate were cooperating, I'd be on the boardwalk now. This happens to me more often than you can imagine. Damn the sunshine.

Well, I'm dressed now. The clouds will come. Let me just go and check the barometric pressure.

What is it?

Desert?




Space telescope photo?




Dry river valley?




Fossil?

My heel...

Omaha

Omaha seems like paradise after missing a connecting flight from Toronto and suffering 6 hours at O'Hare, airport of the damned. The only airport in the world I loathe more is London's Heathrow. I have genuine hate for Heathrow, but that's a ballad of absurdity better left for another time.

O'Hare, a massive North American air hub, so how can the terminals be so crowded and ugly and closterphobic?

Chicago:Lovely. Chicago's main airport: a waking purgatory.
Yet, 8 hours late, we did arrive at Eppley airfield and Omaha, Nebraska. One sleepy, spacious little terminal and a welcome delight from the horrors of O'Hare.

Omaha. You might know it from it's insurance company, or from the wild life series it sponsored: "Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom," aired early in 1963 on NBC and hosted by zoologist Marlin Perkins. The largest city in Nebraska, Omaha sits on the Missouri river and is the financial capitol of the American Midwest.

Marlon Brando, Fred Astaire, Gerald Ford, Montgomery Clift, Warren Buffet and Malcolm X were born here.

Father Ed Flanagan invented Boystown here.

Reuben Kulakovsky invented The Reuben sandwhich here.

Edwin Perkins invented Kool Aid here.

Thurl Ravenscroft invented pre-avant garde, post-existential maximism here, influencing generations to incorporate pre-avant-garde post existential maximism into their thinking and coining the catch phrase "They're Grrrreat!"

Actually, Thurl voiced Tony the Tiger for 50 years. He frosted more flakes than anyone.

The city's indoor football team is named The Omaha Beef.

Lucky Bucket brewery is here. They make an excellent lager and a hoppy as hell, crisp India Pale Ale, one of the best I've ever tasted.


Omaha Steaks and Gorats (Warren Buffet's favorite) are renowned for their succulent slabs of Nebraska beef.

And Big Mama's Kitchen and Catering can be found in the cafeteria of the once Nebraska School for the Deaf, now a Christian campus serving various ministries and church groups. It's soul food cooked like "every meal is a Sunday dinner."