nonamedufus

There was a time when I really enjoyed bicycling. I'd bike for hours following the bicycle paths throughout our region. But those days are gone and I kind if miss it. I'm not giving you the gears. Lest you think I mis-spoke, I wouldn't do that. However, given my health these days I'd probably tire just biking around the block. And I'd be so thirsty I'd never be able to pedal past the pub. After all, I know how to handle bars. Get a grip. I'm just kidding. I wouldn't wheelie stop at the pub. When I bike I carry an edge tool with me. Seems odd I know but you can never be too sure when an axle come in handy. This post has kinda run out of puns, hasn't it? I guess we've sort of derailed here. Oh, well. It would't be the first time I've back-pedalled.

Well, I'm not sure you'd call these stories news, but they are nevertheless interesting, and do pass our criteria here at nonamenews as news you never thought you could use. File this one in Ripley's Believe It Or Not . Westwood Village Memorial Park cemetery - where many a star-struck dead Hollywood entertainer enters the next world - is having a devil of a time finding a crypt-mate for Marilyn Monroe. Attempts to sell the final resting spot above Ms Monroe's have failed, including two recent tries on eBay. The spot beside her is a different matter. Playboy porn publisher Hugh Hefner bought that one several years back for $75,000. I wonder if the second story one was available back then. Who more than Hugh Hefner would want to spend an eternity on top of Marilyn Monroe? I don't know how I missed this one but it appears what once was science fiction will soon become the first real listing in the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy . That's right, Barc...

That's right folks. nonamedufus prides himself in routing out injustice everywhere, exposing it, and crushing it beneath the toes of his goose-stepping, hobnailed, steel-toed boots. This month is "anti-injustice" month at Humor Bloggers Dot "I Could Care Less" . We do things a little different over there and that's exactly what I intend to do today. Let's see if you can care...a little. Today I want to do justice to an injustice near and dear to my heart...and expose the exploitation of the lowly pun. Puns have never done anything to us, so why do we exploit them as we go for the cheap laugh, making them feeling tawdry and dirty. Oh, because it's so hard for humour addicts to resist a snicker, chuckle, snort or guffaw. Let me show you what I mean. And I'll identify the puns. Think of it as the literary equivalent of a short electric shock. Once upon a time in a little village lived a dwarf. (Okay, in retrospect, now that you know my mis...

In Berlin, Germany police recently nabbed a kinky crook. Reuters reported earlier this week that police arrested a 46 year old man caught nicking 3 pairs of knickers from a sports store and uncovered over 1,000 pairs of underwear and more than 100 pairs of swimming trunks at the home of this wannabe Calvin Klein. I guess you could say that after pooling their resources police nabbed the swimwear thief. If he hid the swim suits in trees you might say police discovered trunks...in trunks. If he hid the underwear in a tree did he get his panties in a knot? If it didn't take police long to solve the crime, you could say he was arrested after a brief investigation. If the thief was a drunk Caucasian, you could say police detained a tighty whitie. Upon searching his house I wonder if police discovered what was in his drawers. Maybe after an initial investigation police came up shorts. Nevertheless they got him in the end. If he was gay with an underwear fetish he might have been a fr...