The American economy has a sugar daddy. His name is Ben Bernanke, and he's ready to step in if we keep running up the credit cards and avoiding our landlord.

What happens when 33 men spend three months living in one collapsed mine? It's like reality TV, but actually real. And poignant.

"I thought he was narcissistic. I thought he was all over the place. I thought he was just rambling." Just not guilty. The hold-out juror in Rod Blagojevich's corruption trial, a 67-year-old grandmother, explains herself.

In which George W. Bush says: "Remember me?" To which we reply, how could anyone forget?

Especially if you live/lived in the Gulf Coast oh, say, five years ago. An Arbitrarily More Important Hurricane Katrina Anniversary is fast approaching, and so the media are covering tons of stories they should've been covering all along but hadn't been. Michael Brown's "doing a heckuva job" admitting the government's messaging foul-up.

God likes lap dances; otherwise he wouldn't have invented them. Or so say a bunch of strippers "fueled by Cheetos and nicotine," protesting outside a rural Ohio house of worship whose congregants, in turn, have been protesting outside the strippers' own house of (devil) worship.

Meanwhile, fire and brimstone are raging in the Northwest.

Levi Johnston, running for Wasilla mayor, is back doing what he does best: Crapping all over the Palin family. In other Palin news, a California university that wouldn't release the would-be veep's speech contract was found to have broken public records laws.

Not sure about Levi's budget for campaign ads. But this might work in a pinch (maybe NSFW, if you work in a convent):