Newsbreaks for Wednesday (Humboldt squids)

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Oceanographers say that a large, carnivorous species of squid is invading Calfornia’s central coast. They don’t know why the Humboldt squids have appeared, but I think I do. They’re waiting for the next big earthquake. “Dude, trust me—it’ll be sweet.”

Obviously, that’s a long-term plan. In the short-term, the arrival of the squids may mean the end of fishsticks as we know them. The Humboldt dines on Pacific hake, the main fishstick stock. Try to say that five times fast.

The first time a Humboldt was spotted here was in 1997, when it swam past the camera of a submersible. “Hey, I think that squid just flipped me off!”

The squid is really an amazing creature. Not only does it have a large brain—which means it knows exactly what it’s doing, thank you very much—the squid is the only species that resembles both male and female genitals.

The Humboldts used to confine themselves to the warm waters around the equator, but now are ranging more and more widely. This is expected to put pressure on sharks, the squid’s main competitor for food. Discovery Channel has already got the rights to the pay-per-view. “Fifty Humboldts! One Great White! Who will win?”

Scientists say that the squids pose no threat to marine mammals, and human beings are of course completely safe. Sure. That’s what they said at Munich.

Newsbreaks for Tuesday (Lohan's DUI)

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As you probably know already, actress Lindsay Lohan has gotten another DUI. In other news, the sun came up.

Apparently she was chasing her assistant through the streets of Santa Monica. Sorry, her ex-assistant. In Hollywood, if your drunk, coked-up boss is chasing you in her SUV, you get out of the car and let her run you over. That’s called “paying your dues.” Then, when you’ve made it, you can kill your assistant.

My question is, how do I get the media to stop telling me this kind of thing? I thought the whole point of the internet was to let me customize my news so it was, you know, news.

Lindsay Lohan getting wasted is not news. I expect her to be wasted. That’s what Lindsay Lohan is for. In the grand tradition of wackadoo blonde actresses, we expect her to embarrass herself in public until she either one, dies, or two, gets too fat. What other possible future could she have? “Lindsay Lohan discovers new particle”—that would be news. This girl’s only real accomplishment has been entering AA before she was even legal.

Honestly, I wouldn’t even bring it up except that it happened like, eight blocks from my apartment. “So I guess you feel all cool?” No, I feel scared. Seeing Lawrence Fishburne in an IHOP is cool. Dying because Lindsay misheard one of the 12 Steps is not.

I gotta admit, though, she looks pretty good in the photo. Mom always said to me, “Son, marry a girl who takes a good mug shot…You know, just in case.”

Newsbreaks for Monday (Radcliffe's birthday)

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Today is Daniel Radcliffe’s 18th birthday, which means he now has access to 40 million dollars. And, ten times that many sex partners.

Earlier this year, Radcliffe made his stage debut playing a tortured teenager obsessed with horses in the famous play, “Harry Potter and the Tortured Teenager Obsessed with Horses."

Radcliffe insists the money won’t change him. Change him to what? “I liked Dan before he went Hollywood. Back when he was seven.

There were no limos, no paparazzi. There was just Corgi cars and digging in the dirt with a stick. Spillin’ Kool-Aid down the front of your shirt. Playin’ ‘till the sun went down, then coming home sweaty, tired, and lightly covered in filth.”

I remember one time, Dan and I—that’s what his friends call him, “Dan”—were torturing a grasshopper in front of my Mom’s old house. All of the sudden Dan turns to me and says, “I gotta poop.” Just like that—just like any normal person would say it: “I gotta poop.” So I said, “Go under the porch. That’s what I always do.” But Dan was afraid of spiders—this was before he was a big star. Nowdays, I’m sure he’s got a spider-butler or something.

So I said, “I’ll go in there with you.” Ah, those were the days—hiding under my Mom’s porch, watching Dan Radcliffe poop. That kid was salt of the earth. He even wiped himself with a rock.

When Mom smelled it, I told her it was raccoons. I stuck up for you, Dan—don’t forget me, okay?

I should’ve kept it. Probably would’ve been worth something.