The Yungar Hitler

We are not making this up, and neither is Reuters:

In Peru, Hitler hopes to return to power in a small town in the Andes, despite a threat from a detractor named Lennin.

Campaign slogans reading “Hitler returns” and “Hitler with the people” have appeared around the highland town of Yungar, where local politician Hitler Alba is seeking a new term as mayor.

“I’m the good Hitler,” Alba said on local broadcaster RPP.

Lennin begs to disagree:

Alba’s campaign this year came under attack by Lennin Vladimir Rodriguez Valverde, a resident of a neighboring district who tried to block Alba’s inscription as a candidate.

Electoral authorities rejected the request last week, allowing Hitler to appear on voting cards for the Oct. 7 elections.

Peruvian parents are apparently fond of otherwise WTF names:

Last year an Osama Vinladen was named to Peru’s national juvenile football team.

But of course.

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Shoot a man in Reno

Obviously he’s asking for it: How can i make my car louder in nevada?

I want to make my car louder, however, the law in nevada states that “Mufflers are required on all vehicles and must be in working condition to limit noise and pollution. Muffler bypasses, cutouts and similar devices that amplify sound are not permitted on highways.” how can i work around this?

“Yeah, it’s the law, but I DON’T CARE!”

Four words: Move. But not here.

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The only value remaining

Indiscriminate screwing. Guys like to think they’re entitled to it; feminism exists only for the sake of it. (This is why the patriarchy is Totally Unfair.)

Just a reminder:

Oh, don’t worry, there’s one for the boys too:

(Via Finestkind Clinic and fish market.)

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Where was this when I needed it?

Perhaps the ultimate solution for the student whose paper just isn’t long enough:

Any skiving student worth their salt knows the usual tricks to make an essay look longer: use larger punctuation marks and spaces, mess around with the margins, maybe even try to creep up to a larger font size. But now, there’s an easier solution: Times Newer Roman, a font from internet marketing firm MSCHF (which you may remember from the Tabagotchi Chrome extension). Times Newer Roman looks a lot like the go-to academic font, but each character is subtly altered to be 5 to 10 percent wider, making your essays look longer without having to actually make them longer.

According to Times Newer Roman’s website, a 15-page, single-spaced document in 12 point type only requires 5,833 words, compared to 6,680 for the standard Times New Roman.

There are, of course, drawbacks:

Times Newer Roman will only work for assignments you have to submit by hand or in a PDF. If you’re sending in a Word document using a custom font that professors almost certainly don’t have installed won’t help. Similarly, Times Newer Roman is only useful for hitting larger page counts; if you have a strict word count limit, you’re out of luck.

(Via Fark.)

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Rules is rules

And you will do as you are told:

[H]ere we have a woman who was worried about animals in the face of potential flooding from Hurricane Florence. People may not take pets with them when they evacuate, either because the people are human-shaped homunculi built from offal or because they know they can’t pay the cost to board them somewhere safe. But Tammie Hedges offered low-income families and the elderly a place where their animals would be watched, in a warehouse above the flood line. She, 17 cats and 10 dogs rode out the storm safe and dry. Something like that can make you wonder if you’ve been mistaken and your misanthropy is unwarranted.

But alas, we live in an age where almost all misanthropy is warranted:

Comes the hour, comes the man, in the form of a county animal control supervisor who nailed Hedges and her fledgling nonprofit shelter (she’d been planning to set one up and had the warehouse ready but no permit) for operating an unlicensed animal shelter. Rather than do something like say, “OK, you need to get these animals back to their owners ASAP,” or, “In a couple days or so any you still have need to be brought over to us,”animal control officers told Hedges and the others to sign all of the animals over immediately or they would be back with a warrant to seize them. And they opened an investigation into the unlicensed shelter to boot, with the potential of charges — as yet unspecified.

You gotta figure this guy is really sore about working animal control because he’ll never, ever have the opportunity to bust some kid for an unlicensed lemonade stand.

It’s nice to know that even in the aftermath of a major hurricane government bureaucrats are still fully capable of fulfilling their function of being utter jerks.

What we pay them for, right?

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Nontropical depression

Hurricane, schmurricane. Hold my umbrella:

Comparative rainfall at Wilmington, NC and Fittstown, OK

Fittstown, in Pontotoc County, has about 100 people and one rain gauge.

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Royalty of a sort

In this barely post-Bernie world, we haven’t quite caught on to one of the more fascinating aspects of polarized existence: there will always be a demand for photogenic socialists.

And so the French offer up Ségolène Royal, very easy on the eyes at sixty-four, and very, very capital-S Socialist. She served several terms in the National Assembly, ran for the Presidency in 2007 (losing to Nicolas Sarkozy in a runoff), and has been the Minister of This or That or Whatever at various times. She has four children by former President François Hollande; they were never bourgeois enough to get married, or even tied together in a civil union.

Ségolène Royal pays attention

Ségolène Royal smiles for the camera

Ségolène Royal climbs the stairs

A recurrent plank in her platform has been an increase in the minimum wage. It’s currently €1498 a month, assuming the default 35-hour week; this is €9.88 an hour.

And nobody complains that the male of the species might gaze upon her. In 2006, actress Florence Foresti played Mme Royal as an unrepentant sexpot on the talk show On n’est pas couché (“We are not lying”). About the same time, some lovesick individual put together this shrine:

She’ll be around for several years yet, I suspect.

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Now that’s a Web site

Just look at that thing:

300m of spiderweb

In fact, let’s go in a little (just a little) closer:

This is what you’re seeing:

A Greek beach has been turned into an arachnophobe’s worst nightmare, as spiders have covered it in a web some 300 metres long.

A video, posted to YouTube by Giannis Giannakopoulos, shows the beach at the town of Aitoliko in western Greece under siege from the dense web.

The web has been built by spiders of the Tetragnatha genus. They are often known as stretch spiders, as they have elongated bodies — and in another worrying development for those who fear spiders — Tetragnatha extensa are small enough and light enough to be able to run across water faster than they can move on land.

Threat to humans? None, really, though you’d have a hard time convincing some of them of that.

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Reptile dysfunction

Well, actually, they seem to be working fairly well:

In an unassuming house on France’s River Loire, a cobra lives on the coffee table, a 50-kg (110-pound) tortoise roams the garden and a two-meter (seven-foot) alligator sleeps in the owner’s bed while another keeps watch at the door.

Over two decades, 67-year-old reptile enthusiast Philippe Gillet has amassed a collection of more than 400 phobia-inducing animals, including rattlesnakes, tarantulas and lizards in his home in western France near the city of Nantes.

Gillet says the two alligators, named Ali and Gator, were rescued from a leather farm but most of the animals are pets that outstayed their welcome elsewhere and have been abandoned or donated.

None of this presents a problem, says Gillet:

He insists the locals do not mind their unusual neighbors and regularly pop in for coffee, safe in the knowledge that the most dangerous snakes are kept in a room behind two sets of doors.

But the local fire department is more cautious: they are under instructions not to enter his house in an emergency.

I can’t say I’m surprised.

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Whatever that ocean’s called

At least the airline had a sense of humor about it:

This might have been the best of all the responses:

Well done, sir.

(Via Bayou Renaissance Man.)

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Teenaged and British

[I’d been wanting to do this story for some time, and I figured the best time for it was a Friday, for, um, obvious reasons.]

How big was Helen Shapiro? About five foot two. More to the point, in 1961, when she was fourteen, she recorded a song called “Don’t Treat Me Like a Child,” which she sang in an amazingly grown-up voice. It made #3 on the UK charts, and was followed by two #1s and a #2.

How big was Helen Shapiro? The Beatles opened for her in 1963. She recorded for UK Columbia, an EMI label, which meant that in the States, Capitol Records got the first shot at releasing her records. They put out all four of those tracks, though they went nowhere in a hurry. (Well, “Walkin’ Back to Happiness,” the third single, showed up for one week in Billboard at #100.) Capitol’s US branch dropped her from the roster, though the Canadian office continued to release Shapiro’s material. (I note purely in passing that Capitol passed on the Beatles’ first singles.)

That Number Two track was “Tell Me What He Said,” a Jeff Barry tune that started life as a Ginny Arnell B-side in 1960; the Playmates (“Beep Beep”) covered it in 1961, with the obligatory gender-flip. Both versions were arranged in typical US Top 40 styles, in the hopes of getting them on the radio; both acts were at different stages of their careers, the Playmates having had four Top 40 hits up to that point, but Arnell, going solo after a couple of flop singles with Gene Pitney (as “Jamie and Jane”), was still a couple of years away from finally cracking the chart with a song you dare not play on the radio anymore.

Meanwhile, Norrie Paramor, Shapiro’s producer, gave her a not-even-slightly-teenage sound:

Paramor was contemplating a Shapiro album from Nashville, of all places, and began hitting up EMI composers for material — including, yes, John Lennon and Paul McCartney, who turned out a number called “Misery.” Paramor turned it down, though Kenny Lynch, who’d been on that tour with Helen and the Beatles, decided to cut it himself.

Teen sensations, alas, seldom remain so. Helen Shapiro disappeared from the charts, resurfacing now and then with a song from a stage musical or a jazz number. Her last new track, from 1984, was an Allen Toussaint song:

It was 2002 when she finally retired from show biz; she was still only 56.

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Lessons of a lifetime

Well, actually, she didn’t write it, but it’s an interesting interview (about 16 minutes, followed by the current single “Satellite”) just the same.

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Pedals through the metal

I once rode a Schwinn (!) bicycle down the side of a mountain in the dead of night at an indicated 60 mph. The term “scared spitless,” or something similar, applied.

Now imagine going three times that speed:

It’s a feat inconceivable to most sound-minded mortals: This past Sunday, Denise Mueller-Korenek rode a bicycle more than 180 mph — 183.93 to be exact, which is faster than the takeoff speed of an Airbus A340 — and crushed the motor-paced bicycle land speed record.

This was not just any other ride, of course. Mueller-Korenek mounted a specially equipped bike with a massive gear and tethered it to a race car, which then accelerated to 100-plus mph — the velocity necessary for the rider to turn over the cranks on her own volition. Then she unhooked from the car and stayed in the slipstream, smashing the pedals around to hit the highest speed possible under her own power.

Note that term “motor-paced.” There’s no engine on this bike. The race car drags it up to some absurd speed, and then the rider pedals like crazy.

The whole thing took about five miles, Mueller-Korenek, a 45-year-old national champion cyclist from Valley Center, California, told Bicycling. She and her driver Shea Holbrook, a seven-time Pirelli World Challenge winner, already held the Guinness World Record for the fastest female motor-paced time at 147.7 mph, a speed they hit using a specially adapted Range Rover in 2016. (They had hoped for another record-setting attempt that year, but were rained out.)

I am properly awed.

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Shivers down my spine

Twenty-eight of those big long sliding things, put to use in the service of Freddie Mercury’s most enduring music:

(Roger Green was kind enough to send this along, and hey, I share.)

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Least likely cover version

French singer Jain, who grew up amid the sounds of Africa, knocks out a seemingly-impromptu version of “Gangsta’s Paradise”:

Well, I guess the really least likely cover would be if she did Weird Al’s “Amish Paradise.”

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Cul de sack

Florida Man has nothing to wear, and he likes it like that [warning: autostart video]:

People who live in a Stuart neighborhood say their neighbor does yard work and walks around his property naked. They say they’ve called the sheriff’s office, but deputies say, there is nothing they can do.

“I came out Sunday night to put the trash out, and I look over and he is bent over, winding up his hose, and I’m like that is my view of the neighborhood,” says Melissa Ny, a neighbor.

Concerned neighbors want to crack down on this naked truth, the man who lives at the end of their street is a nudist.

“He works on his car, and he does it naked and everyone has called the police, he is just out there doing his yard work, whatever he needs to do outside, naked,” says Ny.

What does the law say?

Several people in the neighborhood have called the Martin County Sheriff’s office, but say deputies tell them as long as he isn’t touching himself inappropriately, there is nothing they can do since he is on his own property.

I thought she said he was winding up his … um, never mind.

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