“Don’t make Heaven mad, boy, don’t make Heaven mad!” So begins Don’t Make Heaven Mad , one of many songs written by John Lennon and channeled through Linda J. Polley. Frankly, I think it’s some of his weaker material, but maybe it’s just the way Mrs Polley sings. Oh yes, there’s wav files.

“You can eat if you want to; that’s your prerogative… I used to play that game… I know what it’s like… But I’m just not interested in it any more… " Breatharianism: the secret you’ve been looking for.

A temple at least 1000 years old has been found beneath the waters of Lake Titicaca, the favorite proper noun of seventh grade boys everywhere.

R.I.P. Deepleap. We hardly knew ye.

I owe many people many emails. I’m working through my inbox now, so replies are forthcoming. So all of you thinking “Will that Eric scum ever write, or does he just not care about me?” (you know who you are): I care, really I do! I just got carried away, but I’m getting back to what’s important. Writing to you.

Iron Chef vs. Bob. This week’s theme ingredient: low-quality ground beef. More cartoony goodness from Ruben Bolling via tom the dancing bug.

SuperPants is on vacation. While they’re away, they’ve left us a nifty javascript goodie to gawk at.

Less Gilliland is a cowboy for the White Sands Missile Range in New Mexico. This is his story. I wouldn’t be suprised if I’ve met him. Much of the range is in the territory served by Socorro Electric Cooperative, where I put in a couple years as an engineer. I did a lot of work on the range, and saw many amazing things. For example: they have a massive cable that stretches between two mountain tops. About two miles long. It’s connected to huge winches that raise and lower the cable to the valley floor. When the cable’s down, they attach helecopters or jets or tanks or whatnot to it and winch it up, suspending the item several thousand feet in the air. And then they shoot missiles at it and hope they don’t hit the cable. As far as I know, they haven’t yet, but if they do, they’ll just buy another one. Hmm… maybe I’ve said too much.

I’m a big fan of the cacophony society. Of all the groups here and there, the model seems to be the one in L.A. Last week, the city hosted the Democratic National Convention, and the LA Cacophony society was there: Zombies for Gore at the DNC. “A camera crew from MTV stopped to ask us questions about “what our message was,” and we said, “grrrr” in various modulations. Miffed, the newscaster said in her best spoiled-little-white-girl voice, “but this is your chance to get your message out.” We said “grrr” again and tried to eat her, but she was able to run away. " (via The Extremely Sexy Cardhouse Weblog Scene 2000.)

Barney Greinke is a nuclear tourist, driving around the country on a tour of the cold war. His objective: to visit the many “Battlefields of World War III” that lie scattered across the USA. In September 1998 he visited the missile silos of Montana, and got a chance to “be a guest” of the FBI and Air Force security officers. All turns out well. . . or does it?