Here you will find a list of things the Daily Mail has claimed give you cancer. [SPOILER: Includes Worcestershire sauce.]

“About one in three people seeking rhinoplasty — commonly called a nose job — have signs of body dysmorphic disorder, a mental health condition in which a person has an unnatural preoccupation with slight or imagined defects in appearance.” The rest just have really big noses that make them horrifically unattractive to potential romantic partners and tend to cause small children to recoil in fear and are also the reason that everyone is talking about them behind their backs even though when confronted they try to pretend that they were having a conversation about last night’s “Modern Family.” Really, there’s nothing worse than the crippling shame that comes with having a mammoth snout. It makes it hard to hold one’s head high. BECAUSE THE NOSE IS JUST SO BIG AND HEAVY. God I hate my nose.

“’All journalists are either pundits or stenographers,’ he told me, a remark I duly noted in my notebook. ‘We need stenographers, as long as they record the truth,’ he added graciously.
 — Our person of interest James O’Keefe is semi-profiled again, now in the Times magazine

, where he is depicted constructing a fictional narrative for one of his video stories, much as the television news shows do. In other news: It disturbs me in the profile that the writer is upset that O’Keefe is able to film unnoticed in airports and at the docks. I mean, this is America… still. Cowed liberal media!!!

They weren’t just naked drunks… THEY WERE NAKED VANDALS.

In the ongoing debt limit saga, House Speaker John Boehner has apparently told recalcitrant members of his caucus to “get your ass in line” because “I can’t do this job unless you’re behind me,” which, at the very least, makes the Republicans seem a lot more kinky than previously suspected.

“When there is no writing out there to speak for itself, the writer talks about writing. Maybe they write a story about it. Or an essay. Or they read a story/essay about writing, which is an elegant way of avoiding writing, because it provides a writerly fog that nearly simulates writing itself. It’s all very tiresome, because of course you can’t properly write about writing — you just drone on about ‘the process,”’or your close attention to the texture of this world, or your drinking problem, or whether MFA programs destroyed the craft (as if there was anything to destroy). Leaving aside the obvious benefits of a good writing workshop — deadlines, clashing viewpoints, sex — it’s clear they feed the fantasy that writers can coexist at a single set of coordinates. They allow a frivolous, narrow habit to resemble a vocation.”
 — Shots, fired.

Americans hate salad. And with good reason: it sucks. The joyless array of leaves, suitable only for irritatingly self-satisfied fitness freaks and those whom catastrophic illness has left bereft of a discerning palate, inspires existential despair while doing nothing to curb hunger. (Plus, everyone knows salad is full of doody.) But this poses a problem for the produce industry: how to foist its depressing product on a nation of suspicious consumers. They have a plan!

At Fresh Express Inc., a unit of Chiquita Brands International Inc., executives think adding more vegetables to bagged greens will get consumers to eat more salad. They are aiming to release a bagged salad that has not just lettuces but also cucumbers, tomatoes and red peppers, among other vegetables, by sometime next year. All shoppers will have to do is open, pour and eat.

This is probably a good start, given that the majority of American cuisine comes out of a package, but it is still one step too many. Perhaps they can develop a process where the pouring stage transfers the sad dirt harvest directly into the eater’s mouth. I mean, it probably wouldn’t make me more likely to eat salad, but I would at least feel a little more guilty about not doing so.

ATTENTION DEFICIT DISORDER MADE ME A COUGAR

Nevada Senator Pat Geary, part of the same hypocrisy as casino operator Michael Corleone, has died.

This competition, The Ultimate Pop Song Tournament, fills me with terror-rage just looking at its brackets

! (Pitting “Edge of Seventeen” v “Take Me Home Tonight” is tough on the mind.) In any event, voting is now underway for “Nothing Compares 2 U” v “I Will Always Love You” and We Belong” v. “Lost In Your Eyes.” You know what to do with that. (via)