KXAN reports law enforcement in Missouri are sharing the unlikely way they managed to capture a suspect wanted for possession of a controlled substance.
The Clay County Sheriff’s Office says the man was hiding but passed gas loudly enough that it gave away his location.
The sheriff tweeted about the incident, saying “if you’ve got a felony warrant for your arrest, the cops are looking for you and you pass gas so loud it gives up your hiding spot, you’re definitely having a (poop emoji) day.”
The City of Liberty thanked the sheriff’s office for “airing out a wanted person’s dirty laundry.”
Happy birthday to my beautiful and brainy wife who has guided me through the last few years as my brain goes away, is manager of Sorenne’s hockey team, and has taken on a lot that she didn’t sign up for.
(She’s driving me to the neurologist in about an hour).
This pic is shortly after we met in 2005.
She’s wearing her trademarked, I’m-a-French-professor-so-I-get-to-wear-outrageous-scarfs look, and I’m wearing a shirt from the long gone New Zealand Food safety Authority.
About 18 months ago, I sat on a bench in Brisbane and my iPhone 7 fell out of my pocket.
Someone picked it up.
Two nights ago the Queensland police e-mailed me and said they found it.
We had traced the phone using findmyphone, but it was an apartment complex about 2 km away and couldn’t get a specific signal.
I had filed a police report with the serial number, but insurance wouldn’t cover it, so I figured it was just another technology tragedy (also why I use a computer from 2012 because I’ll just drop it, why I used an iPhone 5 for years, because I’d just drop it, why I have to concentrate when I walk, because I’ll just fall over).
And then, after 18 months, the phone shows up at the West End police station.
They wouldn’t or couldn’t tell me how they came into possession of it, my beautiful wife drove me to the police station, and daughter Sorenne now has a nice upgrade to her iPhone 5.
And since this is personally weird post, here’s a picture of when I was about 3 on Grandpa Homer’s tractor (the asparagus baron) that my mother sent along. She’s 77 and flying to Australia to be with me for a week.
I had this dream, where I was coaching on the ice in Brisbane for a few hours, helping do evaluations of kids – male and female – and running them through drills.
As the kids got changed and the girls were mixed in with the boys, I explained we had enough girls in Guelph that they had their own league, and as a coach, I wouldn’t go into the dressing room until they were all dressed, and after the game would debrief for a couple of minutes, and then say good bye outside.
After 3 hours of on-ice training I said I’m going home for an hour and would be back in an hour.
I started to put on my street clothes, realized it was dark outside, looked at my iPhone and saw it was 2 a.m.
I miss coaching, but my brain is doing too many weird things.
To win the Stanley Cup, a team needs 16 wins, 4 best of 7 rounds of hockey.
Half the teams have been golfing since Feb.
There’s a game 7 on right now, St. Louis is winning against Boston, attempting to avenge their 1970 loss where Bobby Orr scored the winning goal in an iconic photo. All Canadians know that pic, and we all know Paul Henderson scoring against Russia in 1972.
We got out of grade school to watch the game in the gym.
Hockey matters, and now that my French professor wife has been playing for 4 years, she’s an expert.
Me, I’m retired due to brain and physical injuries, but 50 years of taking pucks to the head will do that.
Dr. John, a six-time Grammy winner who in his incarnation as the “Night Tripper” brought the New Orleans voodoo vibe to America’s music scene and became one of the most venerated pianists in the city’s rich musical history, died on Thursday at age 77.
The New Orleans native, born Malcolm John Rebennack into a family of amateur musicians, including an aunt who taught him to play piano, died “towards the break of day” from a heart attack, his family announced on his official Twitter account.
Immersed in music from a young age, he was an avid radio listener, and his father, who sold records in his appliance store, sometimes took his son along to nightclubs when he worked on their sound systems.
In grade school he began hanging around clubs, and by the time he was a teenager, Rebennack was playing in rough bars and strip clubs. Along the way, he absorbed a blend of rhythm and blues, cowboy songs, gospel and jazz, as well as New Orleans’ Mardi Gras music, boogie, barrelhouse piano and funk – or “fonk,” as he pronounced it.
Early on he was principally a guitarist, but errant gunplay in 1961 led him to change course. One of his fingers was nearly blown off when he intervened to help the singer in his band, who was being pistol-whipped by another man.
The finger did not heal sufficiently for proper guitar playing right away, but was less troublesome on a piano, and eventually Dr. John would become an heir to the New Orleans keyboard tradition of Jelly Roll Morton, Professor Longhair, Huey “Piano” Smith and Fats Domino.
Dr. John recorded some 35 albums, and three of them won Grammys – “Goin’ Back to New Orleans” for best tradition album in 1992; “City That Care Forgot” about the destruction and heartbreak of Hurricane Katrina; and 2013’s “Locked Down,” which touched on his prison time, drugs and efforts to repair his relationship with his children.
He also picked up Grammys for a 1989 duet with Rickie Lee Jones on “Makin’ Whoopee” and his contributions on the songs “SRV Shuffle” in 1996 and “Is You Is or Is You Ain’t (My Baby)” in 2000.
He was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2011.
Dr. John was married twice and told the New York Times he had “a lot” of children.
There’s been some changes in technical stuff at barfblog.com, and I don’t really understand what’s going on, I just write for free to delay the inevitable decay of my brain.
If you want to follow us on facebook, you need to sign up to the barfblog group, because that’s where the postings show up.
I don’t know if subscribers are receiving posts in a timely manner in their e-mail — I’m not, but I’m just a writer — but you can let Chapman know because he’s in charge.
But I’m still barfblog and barfblog is still me, so here is Sorenne, who scored the winning touch to take the final in their inter-school division this afternoon (they call everything grand finals here, and they’re not grand, they’re finals; no one calls the NHL Stanley Cup the grand finals), and a couple of recent pieces of art.
As I said when I started the other newspaper at the University of Guelph in 1988, you don’t like it, start your own paper and stop complaining.
Of course Heston I-didn’t-sicken-550-people-wth-Norovirus Blumenthal would be vain enough to sign up to have cheese made from his skin – his groin area.
I’m a big fan of fermentations but am also a big fan of using knowledge and experience to improve on basic biological phenomena.
Bettina Makalintal of Vice writes that people have been fermenting for at least 9,200 years, and yet, not everyone’s convinced. The process requires bacteria, which can result in funky sights and smells, squicking some people out. Still, it’s safe to say that fermentation advocates have done a good job of turning people on to the magic of microbes: dry-aged beef is on high-end restaurant menus, and more and more people reap the illness flavor rewards of raw-milk cheese.
A new exhibit at London’s Victoria & Albert Museum called “Food: Bigger than the Plate” shows off not only a toilet made of cow manure and an edible water bottle, but also “human cheese.” The latter is made using human bacteria. And not just any human bacteria, but celebrity bacteria
Most cheese is made using starter cultures, bacteria that curdle the milk, and often, those starters come from a packet. For the V&A’s five “human cheeses,” however, that bacteria came from celebrities, who had their skin swabbed in the name of science and truly funky cheese: from baker and food writer Ruby Tandoh to chef Heston Blumenthal to Blur’s Alex James, a cheesemaker himself. (British rapper Professor Green and Suggs of the ska band Madness also contributed.) It’s “like a celebrity selfie in cheese form,” reads V&A’s blog.
The point, the museum says, is to challenge people’s “squeamishness” and to enhance “our appreciation of the microbial world.”
As I’m about to watch game 4 of the Stanley Cup final between St. Louis and Boston (that’s ice hockey for my Australian friends, and it’s on in background) I think of the Finnish trend of young girls prancing – pretending to ride horses.
According to a story in People, many young girls in the country have taken up the craft of “hobbyhorsing,” which sees them use a stick equipped with a toy horse’s head to dance and show off their riding skills at events.
While it may seem like the girls are simply pretending to ride their horses, it becomes as genuine as it can get at competitions, where they’ll learn how to care for their hobbyhorse just as if it were a real animal. They even pick its breed and gender.
Becoming a part of the country’s growing hobbyhorse community reportedly allows the girls to express themselves without fear of ridicule in something they may not find in school or in their neighborhood.
“The normal things, that normal girls like, they don’t feel like my things,” 11-year-old hobbyhorse enthusiast Fanny Oikarinen told the N.Y. Times.
“Some are sports girls,” added Fanny’s friend, Maisa Wallius. “Some are really lonely girls. And some can be the coolest girl at school.”
Enthusiast Alisa Aarniomaki found online stardom thanks to her hobbyhorsing, but despite her popular videos, she was unsure about revealing her skills to kids at school.
It’s a morning ritual for millions: a couple of cups of coffee followed by a couple of poops.
Pranjal Mehar of Tech Explorist reports that one study found that 29% of participants needed to use the bathroom within 20 minutes of drinking a cup of coffee.
In the search for the appropriated answer, scientists in Texas fed rats coffee with gut bacteria in Petri dishes. They found that coffee suppressed bacteria and increased muscle motility, regardless of caffeine content.
Scientists additionally examined changes to bacteria when the fecal matter was exposed to coffee in a petri dish, and by studying the composition offeces after rats ingested differing concentrations of coffee over three days. The study also documented changes to smooth muscles in the intestine and colon, and the response of those muscles when exposed directly to coffee.
The study found that growth of bacteria and other microbes in fecal matter in a petri dish was suppressed with a solution of 1.5 percent coffee, and growth of microbes was even lower with a 3 percent solution of coffee. Decaffeinated coffee had a similar effect on the microbiome.
Xuan-Zheng Shi, Ph.D., lead author of the study and associate professor in internal medicine at the University of Texas Medical Branch, Galveston said, “When rats were treated with coffee for three days, the ability of the muscles in the small intestine to contract appeared to increase. Interestingly, these effects are caffeine-independent, because caffeine-free coffee had similar effects as regular coffee.”
After the rats were fed coffee for three days, the overall bacteria counts in their feces were decreased. According to scientists, further study isrequired to determine whether these changes favor firmicutes, considered “good” bacteria, or enterobacteria, which are regarded as negative.
Muscles in the lower intestines and colons of the rats showed increased ability to contract after a period of coffee ingestion, and coffee stimulated contractions of the small intestine and colon when muscle tissues were exposed to coffee directly in the lab.
I’m so proud of my parents for staying in contact with the Canadian kids and their great grandchildren.
This is my mom and dad on the left, and mom’s sister and her husband on the right, at the occasion of their 60th wedding anniversary. Everyone in the pic is in their 80s, except my mom, but she’ll be there soon. (I love uncle Dave’s shirt, I own several)
When did 80 become the new 50?
The girls are the daughters of Homer the Canadian asparagus king (100 acres) and my cousin is crafting a living on his farm now that they are in full asparagus season.
Urine smells throughout Ontario at this time of year.
Canadian daughter 2-of-4 had a birthday party for her 4-year-old son, so here are some pics.
Daughter Courtlynn wasn’t there because she lives in B.C. and that’s like flying from Australia to anywhere.
Here’s the slide show, courtesy of my mother, and my contributions to the world:
Madelynn, 32, 1 boy:
Jaucelynn, 29, 2 boys (that’s a Doug stare, both of them, depending on my mood.
The birthday boy and family, followed by Madelynn and Braunwynn.
West Coast Courtlynn, Amy and Sorenne, and one of the reasons I can’t play hockey anymore, but can still write (not exactly as shown). I will not go gently into that dark night.