Such a Chop
So you know how some people can't use chopsticks. You know what I am talking about...those that go to an Asian restaurant and struggle to eat rice or noodles, and while they may provide endless hours of entertainment to those that can use chopsticks, a non chopstick user (as the preferred to be called) came up with this gem of a product. Introducing Spork Chops. You can buy your very own set from Perpetualkid, an awesome site that lets adults be kids.
Google It
Dear Yahoo, I have never heard anyone say "Just Yahoo it". #justsaying. So we all use the Google machine, but here is some useless but awesome stuff you should google. Type in gravity and click "I'm Feeling Lucky" and see what happens. There are loads of other Jedi Master like tricks and you can go here to check out more.
This is a Palindrome
Dammit I’m mad.
Evil is a deed as I live.
God, am I reviled? I rise, my bed on a sun, I melt.
To be not one man emanating is sad. I piss.
Alas, it is so late. Who stops to help?
Man, it is hot. I’m in it. I tell.
I am not a devil. I level “Mad Dog”.
Ah, say burning is, as a deified gulp,
In my halo of a mired rum tin.
I erase many men. Oh, to be man, a sin.
Is evil in a clam? In a trap?
No. It is open. On it I was stuck.
Rats peed on hope. Elsewhere dips a web.
Be still if I fill its ebb.
Ew, a spider… eh?
We sleep. Oh no!
Deep, stark cuts saw it in one position.
Part animal, can I live? Sin is a name.
Both, one… my names are in it.
Murder? I’m a fool.
A hymn I plug, deified as a sign in ruby ash.
A Goddam level I lived at.
On mail let it in. I’m it.
Oh, sit in ample hot spots. Oh wet!
A loss it is alas (sip). I’d assign it a name.
Evil is a deed as I live.
God, am I reviled? I rise, my bed on a sun, I melt.
To be not one man emanating is sad. I piss.
Alas, it is so late. Who stops to help?
Man, it is hot. I’m in it. I tell.
I am not a devil. I level “Mad Dog”.
Ah, say burning is, as a deified gulp,
In my halo of a mired rum tin.
I erase many men. Oh, to be man, a sin.
Is evil in a clam? In a trap?
No. It is open. On it I was stuck.
Rats peed on hope. Elsewhere dips a web.
Be still if I fill its ebb.
Ew, a spider… eh?
We sleep. Oh no!
Deep, stark cuts saw it in one position.
Part animal, can I live? Sin is a name.
Both, one… my names are in it.
Murder? I’m a fool.
A hymn I plug, deified as a sign in ruby ash.
A Goddam level I lived at.
On mail let it in. I’m it.
Oh, sit in ample hot spots. Oh wet!
A loss it is alas (sip). I’d assign it a name.
Name not one bottle minus an ode by me:
“Sir, I deliver. I’m a dog”
Evil is a deed as I live.
Dammit I’m mad.
“Sir, I deliver. I’m a dog”
Evil is a deed as I live.
Dammit I’m mad.
What is crazy about this here poem written by the very talented and uber funny Demetri Martin, is that this poem is a palindrome. (For those who don't know: a palindrome has the same meaning when read forwards and backwards). Try it.