C’est Rire category archive

The College of William and Mary will now be represented by a griffin, according to the school’s Twitter feed.

The effort to name a new mascot had come down to a pug, griffin, phoenix, wren and king and queen.

This is hardly a Glorious Evolution. Oranges would have been a better choice.

Long shots:

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Drinking? In college!

Who woulda thunk?

Virginia Tech has removed a sorority from campus because of several incidents of alcohol consumption inside the chapter’s house.

Here.

I’ve said for years that shifting gears should be part of Drivers’ Ed (not that anyone listened–now that I’ve got a blog, even more persons get the opportunity not to listen to me).

Little did I know that it was excluded as an anti-crime measure:

Police in this Lehigh Valley town (Fountain Hill, Pa.–ed.) say two men tried to rob and carjack a pizza-delivery driver but were defeated by the vehicle’s standard transmission.

It’s not a good idea to drink on the job:

A would-be burglary suspect taken into custody after officers found him passed out on the job was under the influence of drugs and alcohol, according to police.

The scoop:

According to a lawsuit filed in federal court, Holloway slipped on a pile of dog feces a year ago at a Newport News PetSmart and badly hurt his back. He also struck his head, knocking out four of his false teeth, the suit says. He’s suing the chain for $1 million.

Drop that hammer and nails and back away slowly.

Via Andrew Sullivan.

I have conducted extensive personal research over the years, but I don’t think I’ve ever been this drunk:

Pennsylvania police have charged a man with public drunkenness after reports that he tried to resuscitate a long-dead opossum on a highway.

A Pennsylvania judge has refused to grant a divorce to a same-sex couple married last year in Massachusetts.

The judge’s ruling makes perfect sense. They couldn’t marry in Pennsylvania, therefore they cannot divorce in Pennsylvania.

Nothing that any gay folks ever did had anything to do with my marriages (or the subsequent divorces). If they want to know the matrimonial joys I have know, I say, “Come on down.”

I do.

I can’t say much for New Jersey drivers (well, I can, but I shall restrain myself). But I like the turnpike, so long as two Jersyites haven’t tried to make their vehicles occupy one space. Even though atoms are supposed to be really far apart, that still is not possible.

The Jersey Turnpike is a marvelous piece of engineering. Anyone who has driven both it and the Garden State, as I have many times, sees how well-engineered the Jersey Turnpike is. And, unlike the Pennsylvania Turnpike, it is Not Boring. (The Garden State calls itself a parkway. Cars are often parked there. Only Pennsylvania could build a road through some of the most beautiful mountains in the country and make it Borrrrriiiiinnnnngggg.)

One of the NJT’s quaint features, if a feature of such a magnificent paean to the automobile may be considered quaint, is that its rest areas are named after famous Jerseyites, such as Walt Whitman, Thomas Edison, and Molly Pitcher.

Now comes word that New Jersey is considering pimping out the names of the rest areas.

James Simpson, the new commissioner of the state Department of Transportation, is contemplating selling naming rights to the turnpike’s rest stops as he scrambles for new revenue.

“The ‘Nike Stop’ . . . maybe that would be worth $10 million,” Simpson said in a recent interview, pondering ways to wring more money out of turnpike concessions.

So I offer a pome, not by Henry Gibson:

I think that I shall never see
A poem as lovey as a tree,
But unlovely as this poem may be,
Take it. You don’t get no tree.

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From El Reg:

BAA is investigating an incident in which a Heathrow security operative “ogled” a female colleague who’d wandered into a body scanner, the Sun reports.

More at the link.

Here.

She nailed the school good.

Nadya Suleman (the “Octomom”) has fallen on difficult times. She refused an offer to make a porn film, so have a little PETA pity for her.

PETA is paying her five grand and a year’s supply of veggie burgers and dogs to put a sign in her yard encouraging persons to spay or neuter their pets.

Pardon me. I must go explode my head.

Warning: Language as bad you might hear on the school bus.

Via BartBlog and I sort of stole the title from them too.

But this is just macabre: Crashing funerals for the food.

This weekend’s storm, which pretty much missed Virginia Beach to the north, caused a whale of a problem up the road a piece.

This seems an ironic counterpoint to this.

Sometimes it is best to let well enough alone.

Picked up a Stouffer’s frozen stromboli because I didn’t feel like cooking after six hours on the road.

Package doesn’t even have directions for heating in a real oven, just for a radar range.