The neener-neener, thumbs-in-ears, raspberry-dealing antics continue in Washington's budget brouhaha. Republicans want the president to personally intervene in talks on budget cuts, tax hikes, and America's rapidly approaching debt ceiling. The president says okay, let's chat.

But that's hardly the real fight in the U.S. Capitol this morning. Two bills could soon go up for a vote in a divided Congress. One would give the president a thumbs-up to continue our peripheral role in NATO's Libyan adventure. But the other would shut off the spigot of benjamins we're pumping NATO's way.

Like indiscreet paramours, militants with ties to Pakistan's intelligence agency have their cell phone numbers all over the call logs of a phone confiscated from the corpse of the courier who shielded Osama bin Laden. Yes, they say, "But it was a wrong number! Every single time!"

Proving he could keep up with Mad Men via the satellite feeding his tiny TV in Abottabad, it turns out Osama bin Laden wanted to change the name of Al-Qaida in part to get past some of the group's "image problems" among the Muslim world it wanted to save but found itself blowing up instead.

In sunny Iran, it's emerged that jailers are kindly and gleefully instructing inmates to rape the young opposition activists who are being thrown into the country's notoriously rough prisons. But just to show they're not all bad, the jailers are handing out condoms first. Awwww.

Even mobsters, when they get old, like to keep out of the sun, bore neighbors with talk of their cheap knickknacks, and then lie on the couch all afternoon, glazing over to daytime television.

The economy isn't getting better. But it isn't getting worse as quickly as some egghead financial wizards, sitting smug in their liberal ivory towers, etc., presumed.

A brief, government-guided sojourn into the minds of the men accused of trying to stage a semi-terror attack in Seattle. Hint: The G says the two men may have had a future writing newspaper headlines.

Never, ever make an enemy in your IT department.

Oh, and there's apparently a cure for Type-2 diabetes: 21st-century-style poverty and/or post-apocalyptic starvation.

IT'S TRUE! THE FUTURE! THE FUTURE IS TRYING TO KILL YOU! PROGRESS IS A FREIGHT TRAIN WAITING TO TRAP YOU UNDER ITS INEXORABLE WHEELS!