Answer:  Yes, but they’re all on the inside.

A crown of thorns round my heart.

A skull and crossbones on my liver.

And a rainbow arching over my brain.

I was sitting in a well-lit bar called The Dove last night waiting for my beautiful wife to join me when, in an instant, I thought of the best pick-up line that has ever entered the mind of man:  “Mmm…baby, are you made out of hard candy?  Cuz being around you is making me feel all sticky!”

If you are in a position to use pick-up lines, I encourage you to give this one a shot.  Let me know what happens!

Hot tubs all ’round!

If I enjoy my work, I don’t have a problem with the idea of working into my eighties or even later.  If I do not enjoy my work, I will not live to see the Social Security retirement age of 62.

I do not enjoy my work.  I should quit, otherwise I will die.  Also, my company has eliminated its pension plan, so there is no reward for not quitting.

There is a problem:  most of the money I have saved is in my 401(k) retirement account, and I am not allowed to have that money until I have reached the age of 59 1/2.  That’s my money, they say, but I cannot have it.

There is another problem:  my 401(k) has much less money in it today than it did one year ago.  So even if I could have my money that I’m not allowed to have, it would mean that I have less now than I did before or than I might when I am 59 1/2.

There is yet another problem:  if I continue to do this work I do not enjoy until the age of 59 1/2 or even the age of 62, and if I do not die, there is no way to know whether my 401(k) will have enough money to support me.

There is one last problem:  even if my 401(k) has enough value to support me when I’m 59 1/2, that money will have to last me for the rest of my life, and if I’ve made it to 59 1/2 working a job I do not enjoy, there’s no telling how long I might live.

If I quit my job, I cannot live.  If I don’t quit my job, I will probably die by the time I reach retirement age.  If I manage to live until retirement age, I may not have enough money to live because I will not know when I will die, and my savings will be finite.

This thought brings me to the essence of the problem:  someday I will die, but I do not know when.

“That is one dreary laundromat.”

In the elevator of a Bronx housing project, two good-for-nothing punks repeatedly punched and kicked a 70-year-old woman before stealing her wallet.  Then they ran outside and tried to hail a livery cab.

But the three men in the Crown Victoria they hailed had other business: They were plainclothes officers responding to reports of the robbery.  When the officers asked the men for identification, one of them pulled out the victim’s wallet instead, the police said.  “Oh, I just found this,” he said as he handed it over, said Joanne Jaffe, chief of the police housing unit.

Not so funny:  the woman suffered a dislocated shoulder, bruised ribs and a concussion.

From Atrios, the Master of Brevity (post quoted in its entirety):

“Remember when John McCain was running for president? That was pretty funny.”

I’m a tween girl (note the Zach Efron pendant).  The wife went as a frat boy.

This is a bit off topic,  but it’s Friday, and it amuses me.

“Stayin’ Alive” might be more true to its name than the Bee Gees ever could have guessed: At 103 beats per minute, the old disco song has almost the perfect rhythm to help jump-start a stopped heart.  In a small but intriguing study from the University of Illinois medical school, doctors and students maintained close to the ideal number of chest compressions doing CPR while listening to the catchy, sung-in-falsetto tune from the 1977 movie “Saturday Night Fever.”

So does “Night Fever” make you sick?

…is now a 1k.  :(

I’m not sure which is funnier, this song, or the fact that the band’s name is “Sonseed.”

Viewer discretion is advised.

The Danielson Famile, whom I greatly admire, they are not.

Ha ha!