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Celebrate May The Fourth, Smooch A Stranger. She Might Just Be The Sister You've Been Looking For. . .Or A Droid. It's A Toss Up.

By Joanna Robinson | Pajiba Love | May 4, 2011 |

By Joanna Robinson | Pajiba Love | May 4, 2011 |

Good morning my doleful Droids and woeful Wookies, hopefully you have someone to share this May The Fourth with (it’s a Star Wars pun…GET IT??!). If not, feel free to follow my very sage advice in the headline. What’s the worst that could happen? If you don’t hold with the adorable axiom “Incest is best give your sister the test,” you can drown your solitary sorrows in some Star Wars-themed baked goods, or, conversely, distract yourself with this highly technical analysis of Death Star economics. Overthinking it, indeed. (Overthinking It)

If that Luke and Leia kiss bothers you as much as it does Han, my little puritans, take a gander at this bromantic buss. It warms the cockles, ifyouknowwhatImeanandyoudoright? (Blame It On The Voices)

But you know me, my little lib’rals, I say do what you want. Except furries, furries deeply concern me. Oh and this guy. This guy who gets off on being treated like a baby. That’s not right. (Warming Glow)

Truth be told, my darjeelings, I’m fairly sheltered when it comes to certain, ah, proclivities. I had heard of NONE of the Wildly Obscure Fetishes on this list. (11 Points)

Shall we return, briefly, to the subject of terrifying babies? I think we shall. Recently a baby aardvark was born in Tampa and, according to this post, “it turns out that aardvarks are fairly rare.” It also turns out that they are excellent and efficient nightmare fuel. NSFFolks who enjoy sleeping or ever closing their eyes again. (Laughing Squid)

Speaking of terrifying images, are any of you on board with the White House releasing images of Osama Bin Laden’s corpse? I’m with the Evil Beet on this one, I think it’s reprehensible. (Vanity Fair)

And I tell you what my befuddled Buseys, woe betide the White House if they interrupt another episode of “The Apprentice” in order to release said images. (Where’s My Apprentice?)

Speaking of popular things that make me go blech, Miss Katy Perry, looking every inch the Dita Von Teese impersonator, is gracing the cover of next month’s Vanity Fair. So this year we’ve seen Robert Pattinson, Justin Bieber and Katy Perry on the cover? I swear VF used to be more legit. Or maybe I’m growing old (I will wear my trousers rolled). Speaking, by all means click on this link for a glimpse at Katy’s famous melons, but stay long enough for her artichoke metaphor. I arti-choked on my peach while reading it. (Celebitchy)

Did you think I was done with Osama, my dears? Wrong. Slate has an engaging little game to see if you can match images of famous hideouts with the criminals who were caught there. Hitler’s bunker is more impressive than I thought. (Slate)

Speaking of the Führer, Unreality has a round-up of comic book characters punching Hitler. This is an oddly satisfying gallery because, no matter what our ambiguity about Bin Laden, I think we’re all pretty much agreed that Hitler was a mass-murdering f*ckhead. Also, there’s a Captain Berlin? Where’s that movie? Why hasn’t Michael Fassbender already been cast??!! (Unreality)

I have a question, my vitriolic vixens and pugilistic pals. When you rundown the list of people you would like to punch in the face, are there any sci-fi authors on your list? Well then you must not be Minnesota House Majority Leader Matt Dean who “hate[s]” author Neil Gaiman and calls him “pencil-necked little weasel who stole $45,000 from the state of Minnesota.” This is today’s political discourse, ladies and gentlemen. Read it and weep. (Star Tribune)

What is it about this first video that attracted me? I can’t tell you, but I can say that there was some awkward tribal club dancing going on in Casa Robinson.

Is anyone else disturbed by this “Looney Tunes” reboot on Cartoon Network. NOT EVERYTHING NEEDS A REBOOT, YOU MONSTERS.


Joanna Robinson, for the record, has a grilled cheese song of her very own. She’s been known to sing it ad nauseum until someone makes her a sammich. She’ll perform it for anyone who asks, so long as the show ends with a sammich in her mouth. Email! Twitter!

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