Two Brazilian designers have created a pair of shoes that broadcast every step you take to Twitter. The shoes contain bluetooth-connected sensors that activate with each step and transmit the updated status information to your mobile phone. The phone then tweets the data to your followers.

I got an advance pair of these shoes, and if you don't subscribe to my Twitter feed here's everything they posted, word for word:

omg i just took my first step. aint that historic. alert the media.
wow. step 2 was totally hot. i aint no fuckin bambi, dudes. color me haulin now.
im walkin. yeah im walkin.
note to history: sidewalk is totally cool.
shout out to wally's rubber factory in beijing & props to all my peeps
hope you all find good homes
right now i is large and in charge
dont know where im goin but ill tell you when im there
man i think im gettin hi from this foot funk
hey theres some smoking chucks, how ya doin man
yo hey i see you sexy little jimmy choos ill be back for you later on
im walkin
yeah im walkin
wtf oh holy jeezus
im feeling dampness in my sole
its warm and sticky and god somebody tell me this aint happenin
omg i do not believe it
wheres a kleenex wheres a kleenex wheres a kleenex
there goes my clean shoe smell
nobody tell me i dont even wanna know what kinda shit that was
KLEENEX COME IN KLEENEX
take me off take me off take me off
i feel so dirty
smbd hep me pleez
tthats it adio asta lego
ttfn
ths shooz iz ou

Heterosexual Editor of Out Magazine Tries to Fake Some Feelings for Penis

MSNBC interviews Joshua David Stein about "a mini-phenomenon in the gay community," nude yoga:

Joshua Stein, editor-at-large for OUT Magazine, who attended a class in 2008, says the quality of the yoga was diminished by the heightened sensuality. "It's almost if the yoga is something between an afterthought and an excuse," said Stein, who is heterosexual. "It gives you this gray area where you can be intimate physically, but not so aggressively intimate as in a bath house or in a bar."

From an interview with Ewan McGregor by Joshua Stein:

His butt, since its magnificent . . . debut in What the Butler Saw, has been seen by millions and his penis has appeared on-screen so often -- in Trainspotting, in The Pillow Book, in Velvet Goldmine -- it deserves its own Oscar nod.

From an interview with Levi Johnston by Joshua Stein:

God, I feel weird asking this, but our friends on Facebook want us to ask you: How big is your penis?

Heterosexual Editor at Out Magazine Uses the Wrong Word

Joshua David Stein:

A life of glamour is an ethos to which every gay -- from the 17-year-old Dominican tranny voguing in his bedroom to the tanorexic middle-aged Miami circuit queen -- can relate. It’s one reason we love Gaga.

A: (From a New York Times opinion piece): "I feel for a moment like an alien, entranced by our fondness for small representations of the spheroid on which we live. How we love to test gravity and admire the trajectory of a spinning orb!"

Q: What are thirty-six words that mean "People sure do love balls"?

Bill Donohue, president of the Catholic League, recently ran an ad in the New York Times staunchly denying the recent allegations they made about child molestation within the church. In the case of Father Lawrence Murphy, Donohue says that "[t]here is no evidence that [Pope Benedict] knew about it," and he declares that "[t]he Times continues to editorialize about the 'pedophilia crisis,' when all along it's been a homosexual crisis."

Today, however, the Times has a front-page story about a priest who allegedly molested a teenage girl despite the fact the parish's bishop sent repeated warnings to the Vatican, saying the priest was a continuing danger to women and children.

When questioned by reporters, Donahue replied, "As Jesus said when he was dragged off by Pontius Pilate's soldiers, 'Hang on! Just give me a day or two to explain.'"

A Rick Warren Flashback

RICK WARREN:In a Beliefnet interview . . . Steve Waldman asked me about gay marriage. . . . I gave some examples of what I think shouldn't be considered to be marriage, like an older guy with a younger woman. Then [Waldman] said, "Are you saying that those are the same thing?" I said, "Oh sure." It made it sound like I was equating homosexuality with pedophilia and incest. I don't believe it, never have, and never would.

*** FLASHBACK ***

RICK WARREN:I’m opposed to having a brother and sister be together and call that marriage. I’m opposed to an older guy marrying a child and calling that a marriage. I’m opposed to one guy having multiple wives and calling that marriage.
STEVEN WALDMAN:Do you think, though, that they are equivalent to having gays getting married?
RICK WARREN:Oh I do. . . .
Me, I'm not saying a word. Jesus said something about judging not. As for Warren's confusing the "child" in the earlier interview with a "younger woman" in the latter, well, I'll let the Mormons defend him on that.

Constance McMillen wanted to bring another female as her date to the Itawamba County Agricultural High School prom. The school district didn't want any trouble, so they cancelled the prom altogether. The ACLU sued, but a judge ruled against them: yes, he said, the school district discriminated against you, but since there's an "alternative prom" you can go to, I'm not going to make them do anything.

So, Constance went to the "alternative prom," which was chaperoned by the high school principal. It drew exactly seven people, including the school's two students with learning disabilities. Turns out somebody organized an alternative "alternative prom" at the local country club and everybody else went there.

Though the city is a bit embarrassed at the controversy, they're trying to spin it to their advantage. Now as you cross city lines there's a sign that says, "Welcome to Itawamba, Mississippi. We ain't the smartest or the purtiest, but we can sure keep a secret from lesbos and geeks."

Japanese professor Hiroshi Ishiguro has unveiled an android that precisely mimic a person's expressions. The robot, called Geminoid TMF, can move its rubber face to replicate a smile, a toothy grin, and a grim look with crumpled brows using a motion-capture system.

Unfortunately, Mr. Ishiguro destroyed the doll with a hammer after the eightieth time it said, "No, YOU stop repeating ME!"

The Fine Print

From the New York Times article headlined Can Animals Be Gay?:

No assumptions should be made about the animals' sexual preference based on their appearance in this portfolio.

I see a lawyer's fingerprints all over that one. I mean, when a bunny rabbit sues you, you stay sued.

Unexplained sheep attacks in Shropshire have led to claims that aliens are to blame.

UFO hunters are linking the mutilations -- including the removal of sheep brains and eyes -- to sightings of mysterious orange lights in the sky and claim to have witnessed sheep being zapped by two of the spheres.

Shreep and Boing are on the UFO Tazeeba entering earth's atmosphere at 800 miles per hour. They are from the planet Waksplat, one of a cluster of constellations that initially seeded Earth with the DNA from which human life began. The Tazeeba can reach a speed of 2,000 miles per hour in four seconds, and make a ninety-degree turn while doing 1,000, but on Waksplat it's the rough equivalent of a Toyota with brakes.

"Fratulating the garplers," Shreep says. "Clatzing up the gromklings."

"Check," Boing replies. "Commence to scanning Earth's perimeter with subsplatious quanka rays."

The pair's eyes turn to the display as a 3-D representation of Earth's surface appears, with a resolution to one millimeter. They watch with little expression until the silhouette of a sheep appears.

"Holy Christ!" Shreep yells. "What the fuck is that?"

Boing is nearly speechless. "Ohmigod," he finally squeals. "In four thousand light years I've been to eight million galaxies, and never in my life have I imagined that something could exist that was simultaneously fluffy and white."

"No one will ever believe us," Shreep confirms. "We need physical proof. Boing, fire up the ionic disontegrizer and beam it up. Let's show the folks back home."

"Shreep, you forget: though this ship has a nuclear generator at its core and an infinite string of recursive ions to stabilize it, it lacks the ability to lift something fuzzy that weighs nearly a hundred pounds. How about if I lower you on a rope and you cut its eyes out?"

"ME? Why's it always ME?"

"Well, I'd do it, but I have to stay here and mitigate the souvlaki."

Boing sighs. "Oh, okay."

Five minutes later, Boing returns carrying bloody sheep parts. "Oh, gah-ross," he says.

"Good job!" Shreep says, and they high-twelve with their spare temporal lobes. "Our scientists will hold you aloft and carry you through the streets when we return home."

"Aw, thanks," Boing says, his ankles blushing. "You know, it's odd that humans can clone animals from a single cell but if we want another couple eyeballs we've got to fly back here and slice up another one of those things."

"Ain't it crazy?" Shreep says. "Well, let's go recharge Charo and then we can head back home."

You know you're going to hell when you see an intricate, passionate pageant celebrating Our Lord and you think it looks like David Hasselhoff looking for his cheeseburger.

A senior Vatican priest speaking at a Good Friday service compared the uproar over sexual abuse scandals in the Catholic Church to the persecution of the Jews. Rev. Raniero Cantalamessa said they "know from experience what it means to be victims of collective violence and also because of this they are quick to recognize the recurring symptoms. . . . The use of stereotypes, the passing from personal responsibility and guilt to a collective guilt, remind me of the more shameful aspects of anti-Semitism.”

Now see, I didn't realize the Jews used to tell little boys to kiss them to see if their moustaches tickled. Then again, I left Catholic school back when they were teaching Latin, rather than French or Greek.

So, everybody's been nagging us to fill out the census. "The Census Bureau also makes a compelling argument for not procrastinating and sending in your response by mail," says one whiny blog. "It costs the government just 44 cents for a postage-paid envelope when a household mails back the 10-question form, which should take just 10 minutes to complete. It costs the Census Bureau $57 to send a census taker door-to-door to follow up with each household that fails to respond."

Unfortunately, this little blurb doesn't do quite what it intended. Instead of prompting me to fill out the census, it makes me want to overthrow the government. It makes me want to join the Tea Baggers, and picket Washington with a sign that reads "$57 TO SEND SOME PENSIL PUSHER TO MY HOWS?"

News flash: here in New York, I can get somebody to bring me chicken lo mein and a gram of crack for $35. So what's up with the $57? Is the dude bringing a pony? Will he have a Candygram?

Here's an idea I'll give the government for free. Send Dominos out to the people who don't return their forms, and they don't get the pizza until they answer every question.

Something tells me all that blather about invasion of privacy and government conspiracy will wither like a dead raccoon in the face of pepperoni.

Questions About Roger Clemens That Mindy McCready Is Too Classy to Address

Is he good in bed?

Does he ever have problems keeping it up?

Who's got a bigger dick, Roger Clemens or Dean Cain?

Kate White is the next editor-in-chief crossing over into television. The Cosmopolitan boss will appear in an ABC movie, "Beauty and the Briefcase," along with Hilary Duff playing a freelance writer who lands her dream assignment with Cosmo.

After a "Welcome to the big city!" montage scored to Lady Gaga, Hilary instantly dashes off three cover stories:

• "How To Drive Him NUTS With Your Uvula"
  
  
• "Ten Things You Should NEVER Say When Your Man Has a Schwing and a Miss," and
  
  
• "Give Your Va-Jay-Jay some Va-Va-Va-VOOM!!!"

When I was six, some people gave me a test and then told my parents I was smart. My parents were thrilled. Me, not so much. I thought, hey, that and fourteen bucks will buy you a frappuccino.

I imagine stupid people fantasize about how wonderful it'd be to be smart, but I think it's the other way around. How lovely it'd be to be stupid! I could hit the remote at random and find a good TV show. I could buy a warm meal for just ninety-nine cents.

Being smart, on the other hand, is no picnic. The smart person dodges idiots clustered at the top of escalators, happily chattering away on cellphones. The smart person stands while riding the subway so they don't risk sitting in the drips of the dumb person's Taco Bell. The smart person can't believe half of America thinks George Bush could aspire to anything higher than surfer.

And eventually the smart person thinks, wait: if I'm so smart, how come stupid people are controlling me?

This seems to be an underlying theme in Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution, a new show on ABC. Mr. Oliver is the world's most altruistic chef, opening schools to teach underprivileged kids restaurant skills, working with Britain's schools to serve healthier food. Since the U. S. is the fattest nation in the world, it makes sense he'd head here, and in fact he went straight to the fattest city in the fattest state.

The residents, though, were forewarned. The local newspaper published a story in which Mr. Oliver seemed to say they were stupid, and they just about shut him down at the gate. "Why don't you just get lost?" they said. "You think we're dumb."

Now, the average person would reply, "Well, yes, because you are dumb. You know, Einstein never fed his two-hundred-pound four-year-old fried bologna for breakfast and Cheetos for lunch, then said, 'I'm pretty sure that kid's problem is glandular.'"

Last night on David Letterman Ricky Gervais echoed this sentiment. "Some of these people have 60% bodyfat," he said (paraphrased). "That's equivalent to a confectionary. Maybe you should think about eating less when you're chemically identical to a pudding."

Instead, Mr. Oliver's life flashes before his eyes. "Wait," he thinks, "I can't help them if I'm not here." So, he backpedals. "You're all really smart!" he says. "Smart, and attractive, and friendly! And I'm so happy you're letting me visit you!"

Of course, Mr. Oliver doesn't have a choice, unless he wants his show to end during its premiere. But the rest of us watching are dumbfounded. Wait, we think, if we want to help stupid people, we can't say they're stupid? How does that work? It reminds me of those corporations that settle lawsuits without admitting guilt. "Sure," their lawyer says on the courthouse steps, "we paid the residents eighty million dollars, but we still say those clouds that escaped our factory were just harmless, fluffy mist."

We think, can somebody really improve if they don't admit they were wrong?

As the episode ends, it hits us: this is the U. S., in a nutshell. Just as the stupid control Jamie Oliver, the stupid control our government. When we tell them maybe they're a little dumb to believe Fox News, or choose a senatorial candidate based on his centerfold, they rebel. They write up picket signs saying "DOWN WITH THE ELEET!" and put another moron in office. They don't need to get smarter: they outnumber us.

So, I'm curious to see how far Mr. Oliver will get with this Revolution. Can he really educate them? Can he really convince them that they're dying at the age of forty because of their eating habits, and not because Jesus just missed them too much?

We'll see. But me, I'm guessing somewhere around Week Five the futility will hit him, and by Week Seven he'll be eating KFC on the subway and tossing the bones at my feet.

Hey, don't blame Spiderman. Blame the kid who stole the rest of his dick.

Sharp Retorts to Dull Lyrics

It's not the pale moon that excites me.

Really? Well, whaddaya know, ladies and gentlemen: the world's first non-lunar-based erection.

Overheard

Anonymous Man in Business Suit: The doctor said I was paranoid and schizophrenic and delusional. (PAUSE) Okay, I didn't even go to the doctor.

I'm totally fickle. The first time I see a man, I think he's utterly gorgeous. The second time, I see him warts and all.

Which is annoying, because the second time is usually over breakfast.

The latest I met at The Darker Side of Green party sponsored by Lexus and Patron. Why do I get invited to parties like this? Because I enjoy them so much I don't mind posting stuff like, "BUY PATRON TEQUILA!" and "EVERYBODY GO GET A LEXUS NOW!" Only seems fair after thirty-five hors d'oeuvres.

The party, celebrating the new Lexus hybrid CT200H, was in the top two floors of an abandoned warehouse, and you had to take a scary freight elevator to get to it. Upstairs, the place was star-studded. Kevin Bacon with wife Kyra Sedgwick, the gorgeous Tyson Beckford, Gretchen Mol, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Jared Leto, Wyatt Cenac, assorted faces from Ugly Betty, and Zach Braff was on the arm of Taylor Bagley, the most stunning woman I've ever seen. At least six foot tall, platinum hair, shot me a gorgeous smile whenever I stared at her. (Here's a tip for hungry partygoers: if you want a steady stream of hors d'oeuvres coming at you, stand close to the stars.) Whenever they were in the vicinity I felt like saying, "Braff, go get yourself a step stool. The lady's going home with me!"

Sarah Silverman moderated a debate between some liberal woman and conservative man. When the woman said China was making great strides in their automotive industry, Sarah said, "Oh. So for every female baby thrown into the trash can, they're making a fuel-efficient car?"

The Misshapes DJed behind all this, and they were amazing. Mix old Billy Bragg with Belle & Sebastian and Lene Lovich and you can pretty much just do me then and there.

Which is how I ended up with a new man, posting at five o'clock.

The man? On third look, he really ain't half bad.