$110 hamburger lands on Jakarta hotel menu

JAKARTA, Indonesia (Reuters) — A hotel in Indonesia is dishing out a hamburger that costs more than twice the monthly minimum wage in some parts of the country.

I’m not certain why I’m reading about a hamburger that costs 2 chickens.

The $110 hamburger offered by the Four Seasons is made of Kobe beef with foie gras, Portobello mushrooms and Korean pears — served with french fries, of course.

Well, I can understand why a hamburger made from the meat of Kobe Bryant would be so expensive. He’s one of them famous celebrities. I wonder how much it would cost to eat a Paris Hilton burger? Probably much less, maybe one chicken, considering it’s free to watch her being eaten. (As long as you have access to the world-wide-web, even with the 3g that those broke ass Indonesians have to endure. I wonder… do they also have dinosaurs and DVD players?)

They’re not exactly selling like hot cakes yet, but the hotel says it has sold 20 of the 1 million rupiah ($110.10) hamburgers since they were launched this month.

That’s probably because not many people in Indonesia know who Kobe Bryant is, and hot cakes are typically made out of celebrities that are more well-known over there, such as Oprah or the little kid from the Indiana Jones movies. As a side note, I must say that Oprah hotcakes are sweeter and have less of an aftertaste that Kobe Bryant Burgers, although neither holds a candle to Sally Struthers Sausages, which are so meaty you’d swear the bone grows new meat faster than you can devour it.

“One burger has 225 grams of Kobe beef. It is so expensive because the flavor is really different,” said Erwan Ruswandi, the chief of the restaurant offering the gourmet burger.

Anytime you’re spending that kind of money on something that’s sold by the gram there should be a risk of jail time and you should wake up having forgotten something very bad that you did the previous night.

“The calves in Kobe get special treatment … they drink beer mixed with milk, vitamins and eat pesticide-free grass. We add foie gras and also some Korean pears. We import all the materials, and they are high quality, so it is so expensive.”

Kobe Bryant’s calves drink beer? I wonder if that helps him jump so high. Does he inject them or do they have tiny little mouths on them, like Roseanne has on her ankles? Although Roseanne’s ankle mouths don’t drink beer. They’re kinda finicky. They only eat macaroons and feeder mice. They also sing camp songs while she sleeps.

The minimum wage in most parts the country of 220 million is as low as around $40 a month.

See, you bastards! My earlier guess of 2 chickens was actually pretty close. Shame on those of you who laughed.

A tiny number of Indonesians are among the richest people in Asia, while millions live in dire poverty in urban slums or shanty towns in the countryside.

Yeah, that’s way different than everywhere else in the world, where most of the people are really rich and there are just a select few poor people who live under the bridge and only get by with the few gold coins collected from travelers who correctly answered their riddles in order to cross the bridge.

Thing One

Conversation from last night:

Me: “Hey, how fresh is that ink?”

Not Me: “It’s a few years old. It looks really dark and puffy because I’m allergic to black ink.”

Me: “Oh, well that was brilliant then, getting that big tribal tattoo.”

Not Me: “Thanks.”

Me: “No problem. I don’t blame you. Fuck allergies. Who cares about infections and negative skin reactions when you can have a cool tribal tattoo. Very original.”

Not Me: “Thanks. I like it too.”

Me: “What tribe are you in?”

Not Me: “Oh, I’m not in a tribe.”

Me: “Well then, are you allergic to peanut butter? Cause I have some Nutter Butters in my pocket (that I’m dying to jam in your stupid pie hole)!”

Thing Two

Ok, Chinese people and people who feel the need to be offended on behalf of Chinese people… Jeremy Lin graduated Harvard, plays for the New York Knicks, and is making a ton of money. This whole getting all up in arms bullshit every time anyone makes any sort of Chinese reference is getting old. Getting upset because Ben & Jerry’s put fortune cookies in their Lin-Sanity Ice Cream is a bit ridiculous. At least they didn’t go with Cookies and Kung Fu, Ming Chocolate Chip, or Pork Fried Rice Cream.

They should definitely make these non-toxic. That’s a disaster waiting to happen. And it’s not going to have a long wait. If the circumference of your equator warrants this particular purchase, at some point you’re going to slip in the shower, after which you’d end up going into starvation mode after a couple of difficult hours, which would force you to eat your only true friend. When your mom used to clean your feet, she would cry and beg you to stop eating Chocodiles. Now you’re flopping around helplessly in the tub, and the only things that could temporarily fix the paralyzing emotional pain you feel when you’re not eating something, are your fingers and your EasyFeet. Your fingers might look more delicious, like a plump, perfectly boiled CheddarWurst. But more than likely the EasyFeet’s well earned aroma is more palatable and probably safer than the scents and pathogens being released into the air from the juices oozing out of your finger’s cavernous pores. You’d have to eat the EasyFeet. It’s inevitable, so it shouldn’t be inedible.

It’s ridiculous how much sense these make in prison. You could make a shank out of the Pumice stone. Or you could make a Chess piece like in Shawshank Redemption. Any product that can claim to reduce both athlete’s foot and rape is a good product indeed. Indeed. Even if it falls apart after one shower it would be well worth it. That one shower might be the first time you run into a brand new prisoner, who just that same day transferred from another prison because he made so many enemies due in no small part to his being an allegedly rampant booty bandit. Not knowing that, you’d have no reason to suspect anything when he playfully suggests that you bend over to scrub your stinky feet. Then, just as you’re getting to the little piggy that went wee wee wee wee weeeeeee alllll the way home, your new friend will be so far up in your stuff that when he pulls out and makes you kiss the baby fist, you’ll be able to taste the Meat Surprise you had for lunch. If this was Iron Chef, you’d call that Meat Surprise Two Ways. Either that, or a Deconstructed Tea Bagging. And all that is just the salt in a fresh wound from the terribly itchy athletes foot that could have been prevented by wearing the patented upside down dish scrubbers.

‘Lean On Me’ Actor Arrested for Buying 200 POUNDS of Weed – TMZ

The guy who starred as troubled youth Thomas Sams in the 1989 classic “Lean On Me” was arrested in Arizona for allegedly buying 200 pounds of pot from an undercover cop this week.

This is awesome on so many levels. Did he learn nothing from Joe Clarke? Morgan Freeman is rolling in his day coffin. I’m going to do a study where I take 15 average Asian high school kids and compare them against the cast of Lean On Me to see which group did better for themselves. Sams ruined it for his friends in the movie by not knowing the school anthem. This is one of those cases where something mirrors something else. I think. I’m just hoping I don’t find that any of the actors have been on Hooker’s at the Point. I’ll be crushed.

Jermaine “Huggy” Hopkins has been charged with two felony counts of possessing, transporting and trying to sell marijuana.

Did he actually tell the cops that his nickname is “Huggy”? I’m thinking if you’re almost 40 and people are calling you “Huggy”, that maybe, just maybe, reassess should be more than just a ridiculously low scoring three syllable word in Scrabble.

According to police, the 38-year-old actor lives in North Carolina … but traveled to AZ to make the drug deal on Tuesday.

I’ve seen Jack-O’-Lanterns with less hollow eyes. If you gaze into his hollowed out eye-sockets, you can actually see his diabetes.

Cops in Maricopa County say they set up the sting operation … and after Hopkins took possession of the dope, they pulled over his SUV and arrested him. Cops say they found $100k in cash in the ride.

When you can buy real estate with your glove compartment cash, it doesn’t take the Bloodhound Gang to come to the conclusion that this isn’t your first “under the table” cash transaction.

Officials later searched Hopkins’ Arizona apartment and claim they found an additional 100 pounds of weed.

Talk about planning for a potential dry patch. I have a feeling that as a young hugging thespian, little Jermaine wasn’t very good at Hide n Seek.

“Ready or not, here I come!” “I’m right here! It’s me, Huggy! Give me a cookie!”

Police say Hopkins told them he got involved in the drug deal to provide a nice Christmas for his family.

Quite possibly the silliest excuse ever. If you shoplift a Barbie Doll, I can buy the argument that you’re doing it so your kid doesn’t cry on Christmas. I think though, that when your drug deals are measured in hundreds of pounds, you might start fixin to come up with a better reason why you done did it.

Hopkins is being held on $35,000 bond. If convicted, he faces up to 5 years in prison.

If convicted, Joe Clarke’s bat will end up being the least painful of all his encounters with long shafty weapons.

Woman does ‘mouth-to-beak’ to save chicken ARKADELPHIA, Ark.

Danke Schoen Senor Arkansas… I was growing weary of ridiculing Kentuckians. And I would have given anything to have been a fly on the wall during the town counsel meeting where they decided that if Arkansas married its half-brother Philadelphia (this marriage would have to take place in Arkansas, where this would all be perfectly legal) and had a tiny little incest love child, that baby would be called Arkadelphia, and that would also be the name of their 12 family/2 daddy trailer park.

–Sometimes a chicken does have lips, just not her own. Marian Morris saved her brother’s exotic chicken, Boo Boo, by administering “mouth-to-beak” resuscitation on the fowl after it was found floating face down in the family’s pond.

What genius (anything above a GED) decided to name their exotic chicken Boo Boo? Boo Boo sounds like a retarded cow, or a retarded ghost. An exotic chicken should be named something sexy chicken- like, such as Porsche, Shaniqua the Go-Go Chicken, or Jasmine. It also helped the typical family pond in Arkansas consists of a plastic children’s Dukes of Hazard wading pool or a half-full spit-can. This topography was necessary to avoid her drowning while she tried to save the chicken.

Shaniqua the Go-Go Chicken can be found working the pole at the Cluck F@ck in downtown Little Rock.

Morris, a retired nurse, said she hadn’t had any practice with CPR in years, but that she was interested to see if she “still had it.”

Does that mean she was fixing to see if she could still make a chicken corpse come to life like she used to do as a barely legal farmgirl? It’s like Re-Animator meets the Hills Have Eyes, but much scarier.

“I breathed into its beak, and its dad-gum eyes popped open,” Morris said. “I breathed into its beak again, and its eyes popped open again. “I said, ‘I think this chicken’s alive now. Keep it warm.’”

I actually won my 5th grade Spelling Bee with the word dad-gum. Some other words I correctly spelled on my path to glory were dog-nabbit, jumpin-jahoosephats, hooooooeeeey, and your kind aint welcome round here.

Morris said she was pleased to find that the bird she saved was an “exotic,” and not just an ordinary chicken.

Ordinary chickens aren’t as “grateful”, and don’t go out of their way to “return the favor”. Exotic chickens on the other hand, deliver poultry-based lap dances from your wildest fantasies.

The chicken is called Boo Boo, because she is easily frightened. The family thought Boo Boo was startled and flopped into the pond.

The chicken is called Boo Boo because that’s the only word that their 12-year-old son done learned.

Firstlee – I dropped my car off to be violated by my mechanic and had to walk two whole miles to get home. I now have no choice but to trick an ugly girl into being my girlfriend so I can get rides home in situations such as this, and other times like when I need to go to Wendy’s. Two miles! This is bullsh@t! If I wanted to run the Boston Marathon I’d become more serious about my dormant bulimia, I’d stop wearing shoes, and I’d change my name to mbutu. The closest I’ve ever come to running a marathon was the time I drove to Canada. That was exhausting, eh. I’m gonna make it a point to ask one of my black friends if they’ll let me have one of their white girls.

Secondlee – The mechanic who’s currently consensually molesting my car informed me that there is a mouse taking up residence in my engine. If I’m driving along and a mouse pops out of an air vent, there’s a nine thousand percent chance I’ll crash my car and shriek like a little girl who just saw a mouse. When I pick my car up I’m going to make my little cat live under the hood and I won’t feed her until she kills the mouse. Either that or I’m going to start using synthetic poison-cheese flavored Pennzoil.

Thirdlee – After my nine billion mile walk home, I stopped at the Taco King for some dinner. I was immediately confused by the complete lack of anyone who’s ever spent uno minuto watching Telemundo. There wasn’t a solitary Spanish man, woman, or baby to be seen. All the employees were Chinese. Apparently it used to be a Chinese restaurant and business wasn’t booming, so they decided it would be a great idea to start selling Tacos. I think it’s wrong that they’re taking over another group’s territory like that. It’s not like Puerto Rican’s are running around doing math. I was hoping however, that my Chimichangas would have been accompanied by a fortune cookie. “Later you’ll poop fire”

As evidence, notice the sombrero beside the Chinese horsey

Forthlee and Fifthlee – I had a pickle on my desk at work and a manager walked up and gasped because he thought it was a bag of Purple Haze. I know it’s 4/20, but I didn’t realize that was code for stupidest person in the world day. How does one mistake a pickle for a bag of weed? Unless of course, you’ve just indulged in said bag of weed and had the munchies, in which case I could understand mistaking the bag of weed for a pickle. Speaking of which… If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it twice; stupid people should not be allowed to wear glasses. It’s false advertising and isn’t fair. Glasses imply the ability to read books. It’s straight up trickery. They should drool and wear propeller beanie hats like all the other morons. Dummies with bad eyesight should be forced to either wear contacts or just bump into things. It’s not like a couple extra concussions would make much of a difference. It might even make them smarter. Sixthlee – An abnormally large gaggle of cleaning people came by work today. There had to be a thousand of them. Each one cleaning their own little square foot. They were leaning over me, watching me work, and making me nervous. It was like Night of the Cerebral Palsy Living Dead. Except instead of eating people alive, they lick your face. I’d rather be eaten.

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Bible-only Reading at US jail (AFP)

WASHINGTON (AFP) – The US Department of Justice has filed a complaint against a South Carolina sheriff for letting one of his prisons bar inmates from reading anything but the Bible.

I’m this really that much of an issue? Seriously… Banning prisoners in South Carolina from reading anything is like banning fat Hawaiian babies from competing in the Ironman Triathlon.

In the complaint filed this week in a Charleston court, the Justice Department said requests by numerous inmates at Berkeley County Detention Center for everything from correspondence course materials and magazines to legal newsletters have been denied by the office of Sheriff H. Wayne DeWitt.

Ok, this is going too far. I might, and I repeat, might… believe that a prisoner in South Carolina would request a Hee Haw picture book, or possibly a written transcript of a Benny Hill episode, or maybe even a Jeff Foxworthy calendar, but legal newsletters? They done lost their marbles.

“Indeed, the only book, magazine, newspaper or religious publication that defendants consistently permit prisoners to possess is the Bible,” the complaint read.

The only reason they would want a Bible is because it’s thick enough to hollow out to use as a hiding place for shanks, meth, and tattoo needles.

Prison officers even hand out King James Bibles for free to prisoners, but a Jewish prisoner who asked for a Torah and two Muslim inmates who requested copies of the Koran were told they could only have them if family members personally delivered the holy books to the jail.

This story is making less sense by the second. I would hardly believe it if you told me there was a Jew in South Carolina, and you’re expecting me to believe that this imaginary Jew resides in prison? Talk about not having a group to belong to. I feel a little bad. He must be so lonely. Who does he have to complain to when they have a pig roast on Passover? Did he get arrested for failure to display a confederate flag on his Lexus while traveling from his home in Long Island to visit his parents in Boca Raton? In South Carolina you’re more likely to run into a UFO or a Bigfoot than a Jew. Even the lawyers in South Carolina are gentiles. There’s more Bar Mitzvahs performed in Al Queda compounds annually than in South Carolina. This is like running into a South Carolinian inside of a classroom at Harvard.

When one of the Muslim inmates arranged for his girlfriend to bring a Koran to the prison, the sheriff’s office refused to pass it on to the prisoner.

In their defense, she smuggled it into the prison in her butt, so it wasn’t very sanitary and didn’t smell very nice.

The Justice Department said the practice violates several laws and the First Amendment of the US Constitution, which guarantees freedom of religion.

It’s ok to be forcibly coerced into tossing the collective salads of the cast from The Hills Have Eyes, but god forbid you’re not allowed to read about Davey and Goliath’s zany adventures, or how Jesus had a pet bunny who laid colorful eggs all over the holy land.

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Here is but a sampling of the strange accidents, injuries, and occurrences that make up my so called life. This list is by no means complete, but for today it’ll have to make do. Happy Birthday to Me!

The second I bit into the Jalapeno Popper that I had just seconds earlier taken out of the oven I realized my grave error. Not being even remotely patient enough to let them cool to a mild boil, they were still scalding hot. As my teeth closed into the crispy popper shell, a gooey burst of cheesy-lava surprise spattered onto my chin. I yelped in painful surprise at the audible sizzle. You could smell the sweet and what would normally be a delicious combination of cream cheese, Jalapeno, and burning flesh. I proudly wore a bright red hickey colored burn mark on my chin for a couple of weeks.

Riding my bicycle up a steep hill, I was distracted while daydreaming about something, more than likely involving juggling monkeys or someone slipping on the ice. Obviously not paying even the teeny-tiniest bit of attention to my directionality, I rode my bike right into a car. A parked car. As if that wasn’t bad enough, this particular parked car had people sitting inside of it. And as if riding my bike into a parked car with people sitting in it didn’t satisfy the god of embarrassment’s daily cravings, the car was facing my direction, angled downhill so that it’s occupants could see the entire scene develop from intro to closing credits. I didn’t just fall down like every other human being on this planet would have. I flipped my bike so that I was upside down, staring at the birds flying through the clouds, ridiculing me with their hurtful chirps and tweets. Usually I can play things off pretty well, but given the immensity of my awkwardness I did the only thing I could think of, which was to get up, not say a single word and ride off pretending like nothing at all had happened.

As a tiny little snowbound Jew, I was warming my chilly tushy after coming home from the ski slopes. Getting a tad bit too close to the fireplace, I ended up burning a grill mark right onto my little behind.

Working for Pizza Hut as a delivery driver, I toppled a stop sign while being distracted by a bikini girl. In my defense, the stop sign was in the middle of the road, not on the side of it where stop signs clearly belong, so I never actually left the road and thus cannot take the blame. But on the other hand, it’s not like the sign was invisible…

With bills out of control, I got an advance from work to try to catch up a little bit. I went straight to the horse track and lost all the money and while driving home in the pouring rain I totaled my car.

As a youngster I used to get bloody noses all the time. When I was in 6th grade, we were about to take a test that I was woefully unprepared for so I did what anyone else would have done… I punched myself in the nose and proclaimed to the teacher that my nose was about to have its monthly visitor and demanded she send me to the nurse. She didn’t believe me so I bled all over the floor. She then sent me to the nurse and I avoided an unavoidable D+. Go me!

Walking around the corner at work I took a monumental spill. This was when I was much larger, so the fall could aptly be compared to one of the giant Imperial Walkers in Return of the Jedi, tumbling to the ground after getting caught in a trap set by one of those pesky Ewoks. It was the most awkward falls recorded in the long illustrious history of falls. It transpired in slow motion and if my memory serves me right I think there was even a musical score in the background. The whole time I was falling I was praying that nobody was watching. I saw my life flash in front of my eyes. As I hit the ground with an earth-rattling thump that registered an 8.7, I quickly looked up. OH NO! Jane was sitting a mere five feet from the scene of the accident. She didn’t even look up. Amazing. How could she have possibly missed it? Was she was deaf. She must be. Had I been working with a lip reader for the past year without knowing it? That was the only rational explanation I could conjure in my emotionally wounded brain. I wiped the sweat off my brow and breathed a deep sigh of relief. No one had seen me. I was in the clear. As I picked myself up, I saw the one solitary thing I had hoped to avoid. Down the hall, Paul was staring right at me with the biggest Cheshire Cat grin you’d ever want to punch off someone’s stupid smug face. I knew from that moment on that I’d never hear the end of this story and I haven’t. But I can always bring up the time he was attacked by a gang of orphan rats who bit him all over his shoe and stole his lunch, so I think we’re even. I still want to mace him in his eyeballs for seeing me single-handedly create a fault line connecting Harvard and MIT.

After nearly six decades of painstaking research in the field of rubber animals, utilizing a myriad of scientific research methods such as placebos, protractors, and double-blind phone surveys, I have come to four conclusions:

1 – Of all the rubber animals, rubber ducks are the most baby-friendly, while rubber chickens not only scare all babies, but also most adults. There is also a surprisingly large market for the brand new “As Seen on TV” Vibrating Rubber Gerbil-on-a-Stick.

2 – Rubber housecats are amongst the most effective items used to smuggle heroin and counterfeit Gucci purses into the states, along with rubber frogs, and rubber kangaroos.

3 – Hanging oneself using a rubber chicken is the seventh funniest way to commit suicide, right after snorting a freshly birthed Chia-Pets and letting it grow into your brain, which has held steady at number six for three years straight. New to the top ten is watching MTV until your brain actually explodes, which has shot up to number three since you can achieve this result in as little as six-and-a-half minutes if you happen to start your suicide during Sixteen and Pregnant. Number two is enduring a full length Louis Anderson comedy show while he sits on your face.

4 – Saying “Aflac!” in a silly voice, much like Gilbert Gottfried before he was fired for having the courage to tell the truth about Godzilla and MechaGodzilla’s role in Japan’s tragedy, is infinitely funnier when holding a rubber chicken than with a rubber duck, especially if you’re scaring an abandoned toddler.