Federal investigators want to question Mary-Kate Olsen about how Heath Ledger got two powerful painkillers that contributed to his accidental overdose death, but she's refusing to talk without immunity, a law enforcement official said Monday.

...

DEA investigators suspect the painkillers oxycodone and hydrocodone found in Ledger's system were obtained with phony prescriptions or other illegal means, the official said. Oxycodone is sold as OxyContin; and hydrocodone as Vicodin.

Over the years, TV's best-known movie review show has gone from hosts Siskel and Ebert to Ebert and Roeper to Roeper and guest critics — and now it's Lyons and Mankiewicz.

wtf_history

What you are about to read is a true story of love, longing, and loneliness. I hope you’re a sucker for a good twisted romance, because this is the morbid tale of Florida’s most infamous love-struck necrophiliac.

In 1927, 50-year-old Georg Karl Tanzler abandoned his wife, Doris, and two daughters in Zephyrhills, Florida, fleeing to Key West to “find his soul mate.” Upon arriving, the German immigrant claimed to have nine university degrees, reinventing himself as “Count” Carl Von Cosel.

He landed a job as an x-ray technician and bacteriologist, treating tuberculosis patients at Marine Hospital. An electrical wizard, scientist, and inventor, Von Cosel enjoyed playing music long into the night on a home-made organ.

He spent his spare time tinkering with electrical devices, and even built an airship, until one day in April of 1930, he found his true love.

Elena Milagro Hoyos was a beautiful 20-year-old Spanish Cuban, and Von Cosel was obsessed from the moment he met her, convinced this was the woman he had dreamed of for decades.

In his many memoirs, Von Cosel claimed that 30 years prior he saw an apparition of a beautiful dark haired young woman. The vision was revealed to him by the “Ghost of Countess Anna.”

The Countess (presumably one of Von Cosel’s ancestors), removed a veil from the face of the young beauty, allowing him to see the woman she prophesized would one day be his bride and destiny.

Now, after so long, his vision of true love had become reality.

Sadly, Elena Hoyos was dying from tuberculosis, so Von Cosel set out to cure her. He used electric shock machines, gave her free radiation treatments, and even concocted a potion containing flecks of gold.

He soon professed his interest in her, lavishing her with gifts and proposals of marriage, but she denied them being a devout Catholic whose husband had deserted her. Alas, in 1931, several days before Halloween, the beautiful Elena passed from this earth and was buried in a simple grave.

Von Cosel couldn’t stand the thought of his beloved rotting in the earth, so he begged her family to allow him to construct a mausoleum for her. Her body was exhumed, placed in a metal coffin and housed in the new crypt, complete with telephone.

He visited Elena’s corpse night after night to “communicate” with her via telephone. He came to believe she was begging for release from her “prison” so they could be reunited.

WELLINGTON, New Zealand (AP) -- A dolphin swam up to two distressed whales that appeared headed for death in a beach stranding in New Zealand and guided them to safety, witnesses said Wednesday.

The actions of the bottlenose dolphin -- named Moko by residents who said it spends much of its time swimming playfully with humans at the beach -- amazed would-be rescuers and an expert who said they were evidence of the species' friendly nature.

The two pygmy sperm whales, a mother and her calf, were found stranded on Mahia Beach, about 500 kilometers (300 miles) northeast of the capital of Wellington, on Monday morning, said Conservation Department worker Malcolm Smith.

Rescuers worked for more than one hour to get the whales back into the water, only to see them strand themselves four times on a sandbar slightly out to sea. It looked likely the whales would have to be euthanized to prevent them suffering a prolonged death, Smith said.

"They kept getting disorientated and stranding again," said Smith, who was among the rescuers. "They obviously couldn't find their way back past (the sandbar) to the sea."

Along came Moko, who approached the whales and led them 200 meters (yards) along the beach and through a channel out to the open sea.

Watch how dolphin became a hero

"Moko just came flying through the water and pushed in between us and the whales," Juanita Symes, another rescuer, told The Associated Press. "She got them to head toward the hill, where the channel is. It was an amazing experience. The best day of my life."

Anton van Helden, a marine mammals expert at New Zealand's national museum, Te Papa Tongarewa, said the reports of Moko's rescue were "fantastic" but believable because the dolphins have "a great capacity for altruistic activities."

These included evidence of dolphins protecting people lost at sea, and their playfulness with other animals.

"We've seen bottlenose dolphins getting lifted up on the noses of humpback whales and getting flicked out of the water just for fun," van Helden said.

"But it's the first time I've heard of an inter-species refloating technique. I think that's wonderful," said van Helden, who was not involved in the rescue but spoke afterward to Smith.

Smith speculated that Moko responded after hearing the whales' distress calls.

"It was looking like it was going to be a bad outcome for the whales ... then Moko just came along and fixed it," he said. "They had arched their backs and were calling to one another, but as soon as the dolphin turned up they submerged into the water and followed her."

After the rescue, Moko returned to the beach and joined in games with local residents, he said.

Entry found here

A friend of mine (and recently-initiated student, go her!) requested that I post this story which was originally written for my personal journal, which is not public. I agree with her--a story this good deserves to be retold. And so, submitted for your perusal, "My Last Two Dollars and My Last Good Nerve."

August 30, 2005

I nearly punched someone today.

The scene is Book People, a Monday evening. The cafe area. Having spent the day feeling like ass and laying around watching TV bundled up in various wubbies on the futon, I decided to make a pilgrimage to the library, then on the way back to Mecca itself, my all-time favorite bookstore and Austin landmark. I can't count the hours I've spent at Book People curled up on a couch or in the cafe sipping chai and collecting recipes, or paging through the latest metaphysical tripe. It's a comforting ritual and a way that my last couple of bucks could support local business.

So I score a table against the wall, put down my stack of cookbooks and various other and my purse, grab my wallet, and head for the counter. (My purse is in plain sight, don't worry; I wanted it to mark my table.) Today's coffee jockey is an adorable pierced-and-tattooed boy en flambe, as most BP baristas tend to be. There's one woman in line in front of me, waffling between a decaf skim milk latte and some other thing.

Now, this woman...oy. There are thin women, and then there are Skinny Bitches, and my radar went screaming off on the latter immediately. She's standing there in her overpriced workout clothes--you know, the kind nobody wears to actually work out in, they just wear around town to make it look like they're oh-so-health-conscious. She has one of those stupid little pink leather purses that should have a dog in it, and an armload of magazines about pilates and yoga; her hair is that expensive streaky blonde that's all the rage in people trying to look young and hip. She's making fake small talk with the adorable pierced-and-tattooed boy en flambe, and taking forever to decide what she wants, talking herself into and out of a piece of cake about five times.

I'm barely paying attention, as I am scanning the menu myself (you know, making up my mind BEFORE I get there?), but she has one of those nasal voices that worms its way into your brain and makes your spine hurt, so before long I'm listening to her; I think she was trying to be flirty. Anyone with half an IQ would have known her charm was absolutely wasted on our friendly neighborhood cafe lad.

The woman is now weighing the pros and cons of having skim milk versus two percent milk in her latte, and she says, "God, I don't know, I just feel so, like, fat today. I feel like such a big fat cow."

Then she turns to me, and she says, GET THIS, "How do you stand it every day?"

I blink.

The adorable pierced-and-tattooed boy en flambe blinks.

Several heads in the cafe pop up because nobody can believe this woman actually said this to a total stranger. I feel as if the sitcom camera is pulling in tight for a closeup on my reaction.

But the gods of snark are smiling upon me today. I reply, straightfaced, "You know, it's normally not too bad, but today I'm having one of those days where I feel like a shallow dumb bitch. How do you stand it every day?"

Just then the barista, who is holding back laughter so hard he's beet red, hands her her skim milk yuppie whatever and says, "Here you go, ma'am." She too is kind of pink, but she doesn't say a damn word, or leave a tip--she storms off, her cell phone already to her ear, because clearly she's the wronged party here.

The pierced-and-tattooed boy en flambe busts out laughing, and I notice a few of the popping-up-heads are laughing too. I'm both shell-shocked and proud of myself, because usually when I'm insulted I'm not quick on the draw enough for the witty retort. "Oh my God, I cannot believe she fucking said that to you," he says, shaking his head.

I can't, either, but at the same time I can. It's not the first time people have made comments like that to me. They only do it when you're alone, because if you're with friends you're upholding the Fat Girl Contract--you're playing the part of asexual sidekick to whoever is the pretty girl. But if you're by yourself, and gods forbid having a good time or--gasp!--eating something besides a salad with the dressing on the side, you're fair game.

If you walk up to a black man and call him that dreaded "n word" or tell him he should be tap dancing and eating fried chicken, you'll be thought of as a bigot, but if you insult someone's appearance to their faces in public or tell a fat woman she should be on Atkins, it's considered "helpful advice." You don't know this woman, why she's fat, or anything about her life, but it's okay to be cruel, because obviously she's lazy and self-indulgent and you, as a skinny evangelist, have the right to say whatever you want if you think it's for her own good. People don't believe this kind of shit happens, but it happens every day.

I order a cherry Italian soda. The adorable pierced-and-tattooed boy en flambe waves my money away. "On the house," he says. "The comeback was worth two-fifty at least."

I slip the two dollars in the tip jar and go back to my table, shaking my head, still too amazed at the whole thing to really process it. A few minutes later I hear a quiet laugh, and I look up to see the adorable pierced-and-tattooed boy en flambe holding a milk jug and grinning a little sheepishly.

He sees me looking and holds up the jug. "I think I gave her whole milk by accident," he says, and winks. "Oops."

Thanks angelamermaid!

Only The Good Die Young

Come out Virginia, don't let me me wait
You Catholic girls start much too late
But sooner or later it comes down to fate
I might as well be the one
They showed you a statue and told you to pray
They built you a temple and locked you away
But they never told you the price that you pay
For things that you might have done...
Only the good die young

You might have heard I run with a dangerous crowd
We ain't too pretty we ain't too proud
We might be laughing a bit too loud
But that never hurt no one
Come on Virginia show me a sign
Send up a signal I'll throw you the line
The stained-glass curtain you're hiding behind
Never lets in the sun
And only the good die young

You got a nice white dress and a party on your confirmation
You got a brand new soul
And a cross of gold
But Virginia they didn't give you quite enough information
You didn't count on me
When you were counting on your rosary

They say there's a heaven for those who will wait
Some say it's better but I say it ain't
I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints
Sinners are much more fun...
And only the good die young

You say your mother told you all that I could give you was a reputation
She never cared for me
But did she ever say a prayer for me?

• $379,431.34 requested reimbursement for repairs to your truck cabin. You claimed the damage was caused by attacking fighter jets.
  
  
• $665,789.11 requested reimbursement for repairs to your trailer. You claimed the damage was caused by a giant mechanical scorpion, which I can only assume is some amusement-park ride, although I question the wisdom of bringing your mobile home so close to such dangerous equipment.
  
  
• $6,564,239.44 requested reimbursement for repairs to a truck part called the "Autobot Matrix of Leadership." You stated this occurred in "an ultimate confrontation between good and evil," with a Ms. Meg Atron and a Mr. U. Nicron causing the damage in question. Mr. Prime, I have checked every known car- and truck-part catalog published in the United States and have found nothing even resembling that part, never mind any part so expensive. Whatever disagreements you had with Ms. Atron and Mr. Nicron, I suggest that next time you either settle things peaceably or leave your Autobot Matrix of Leadership at home so it doesn't break. GEICO does not cover Autobot Matrix of Leaderships.

CARTOON: G.I. Joe
LESSON: Knowing is half the battle.

The other half of the battle is kicking Cobra’s terrorist ass. And with the coolest soldier codenames ever --Snake Eyes, Duke, Lady Jaye, Shipwreck-- winning the war on terror should be no problem. Good will always win out over evil, because good guys work together (Team Work! Cooperation!), while bad guys are ruthless cowards who turn tail and run whenever G.I. Joe’s laser guns get to zappin’. As Sergeant Slaughter once said: “Our enemies are innovative and resourceful, and so are we. They never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people and neither do we.”

Now that’s some good strategery.
How it affected us as adults: Actually, we’re pretty certain that our strategy for the Iraq War was conceived after a two day long G.I. Joe marathon in the Pentagon. They just implicitly trusted that the good guys were going to win, that firing off our guns would make the bad guys run for the caves and that giving everyone cute nicknames was somehow endearing. When things didn’t turn out the way they’d planned, the administration placed the blame on faulty intelligence, or in other words: “Knowing is half the battle, and we unfortunately didn’t know shit.”

The U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission's newsfeed is a daily source of hilarity. "Barbecue recalled for fire hazard!" it warns. "Trampolines recalled for falling risk!" it hollers and cries. I rarely click though: the actual details could only disappoint. I like living in a world where the government needs to issue daily reminders verbalizing common sense.

And they're at it again, this time warning about the dangers of precariously balanced pieces of furniture. " The U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission (CPSC) is warning parents and caregivers about the dangers of televisions and heavy furniture tipping over and killing young children. The number of TV tip-over deaths reported to CPSC during the first seven months of 2006 is twice the typical yearly average."

The lesson? That 36 inch plasma screen should not be balanced on wobbling legs composed entirely of empty beer cans. Your iron maiden? It should not be left open and placed on roller skates. An armoire should not be stored diagonally, propped up only with a creaking broom. And so on. BEWARE.

CPSC Warns about TV, Large Furniture Tip-Over Dangers