( continues...) non-consenting participant, so she's freed. Apparently based on a real court case (in France, not Georgia, and it the middle ages, not now).

If that doesn't hook you, it stars Colin Firth.

Betsy HP: The New Englanders hanged animals caught in bestiality; there's a documented case of a pig being executed alongside a human.

Nutty: The real question is, if you subsequently made sausages out of an animal you'd hanged, was it considered cannibalism?

Because, like, allowing an animal to stand trial is tantamount to considering that animal a human, in the eyes of the law.

Also, what was the pig's crime called? It's not bestiality, from the pig's point of view.

Corwood Industries:

Also, what was the pig's crime called?

Ape love.

DavidS: Who the hell has sex with mules?

I thought that's what sheep were for.

Corwood Industries: Ah, but mules can't get pregnant.

Man, I'm glad I came out of the woodwork for this discussion.

Nutty: I wonder if hanging your lunch makes it inedible? I mean, as opposed to other forms of slaughter? Okay, I know nothing about slaughter. It's got to be an odd sight, though, a cow hanging from a noose.

I want this paragraph to be singled out:

Nutty:

You know, actually, on the scale of creeptastic oddball fetishes I perfer not to know about, mule-fucking is head, shoulders, knees and toes beyond pee-love and masochism.

Aimee: Two of A Kind beats everything at the Gay Casino!

ita: Queens are wild!

tommyrot: Except three queens.

Raquel: Speaking of which, what happened in Gomorrah that got it destroyed by God? Same stuff as in Sodom, or did they have their own things going on? (I'd look in the Bible, but honestly I've never been able to find "and lo, the residents of Sodom participated in the butt-sex, for which the Lord smote them" so I'm looking more for interpretation than text, I guess.)

Theodosia: Maybe they all had gomorrhea, Raquel.

Rick, in Natter (making me laugh out loud at work):

The last time the subject of vanity Googling came up on the board I searched for myself. I found out how unfortunate it is that there is only one Internet, not conveniently separated personal and business Internets. The third hit for me was a magazine article in which the author discussed my research on the dangers of alcohol abuse. The fourth hit pulled up several pictures of me, very drunk, at a high school reunion. Cruel juxtaposition is the way of the Google.

Movies considers some recasting...

Frankenbuddha: ...talk about your early type-casting.

Cashmere: Can anyone say, "R. Lee Ermey"?

Corwood Industries: Boy, he could have ruled in the role of a romantic comedy lead! Especially if it's a romantic comedy about angry, anal-retentive ex-Marines who shout a lot.

Sean: Loves me some Gunney.

Frankenbuddha: What is your major malfunction, numbnuts!?!??!?

Corwood Industries: Meet-cute at 0900, maggot! Followed by hours of wacky misunderstandings! DID YOU HEAR ME! WACKIER! WACKIER! YOUR MOTHER ISN'T HERE TO HELP YOU, SWEETHEART! You have until 1800 hours to achieve monkey love, and when I say monkey love, I expect MONKEY LOVE!

in Natter:

shrift: My day started out on the Busy State Highway, got onto the Hectic Business Loop, merged onto Interstate You Gotta Be Fucking Kidding Me, and accidentally took the wrong exit to Hysterical Sobbing Laughter Boulevard, where I am still stuck in traffic. Any moment now, Michael Stipe is going to wander past while singing "Everybody Hurts".

Connie Neil, in Bitches:

Hubby: "As God is my witness, I didn't know there'd be karaoke."

Later in same message:

It was the most painful evening I've ever spent outside of a hospital.

This may only be funny to me, but I'm gonna preserve it forever since reading it made me start laughing all over again.

Emily on our 2am-would-be-intruder, in Bitches:

Also, I'd like to say about last night that it was briefly very scary, and then utterly hilarious. I actually don't think I've laughed that much in a very long time, in the relief-from-panic way. Four attractive police officers tramping through our house at 2:30 in the morning, and I'm standing there holding my cat (because the cops left our door open) thinking, oh dear, I would have neatened up a bit if I'd known. How's my hair? One of them actually thanked me on the way out. For what? I dunno. Protecting them from the cat, maybe?