“Well since we’re already here at the beach, why don’t we swing by the Visitors’ Center? Four miles through dunes under a blistering sun with no sunscreen doesn’t sound like that tough of a ride, does it?”

That’s me talking, obviously.

Dear People of Moldova:

On behalf of all visitors to Provincetown, Massachusetts, I would like to thank you. Thank you for your heterosexuality, thank you for your willingness to reproduce, and thank you for sending your tall, stunning, athletic, poreless, hairless sons and daughters to Cape Cod to work behind the counters at Commercial Street’s coffee shops, coffee houses, coffee stands, coffee bars, and cafes. The mochaccinolattefrappenitas would flow far slower without them.

However.

Before you send over the next batch of beautifully built baristas, may I suggest running them through your local outpost of Mrs. Margaret Mitchell’s Finishing School and Customer Service Training Academy? Because what plays well in Chişinău comes across as a surly on this side of The Pond.

Look, I understand that customers can be jerks, and I know that vacationers in resort towns can be even worse. I worked French Connection on Decatur Street in New Orleans’ French Quarter: I am well aware.

I’m not asking for your sons and daughters to greet me every morning with a smile and politely ask to wipe my ass. (Although I wouldn’t complain if the guy down at Wired Puppy made such overtures. Something to pass along.) All I’m saying is, I have to deal with K&B attitude 51 weeks a year, and I would enjoy a little break.

Now, please continue your rabbit-like banging.

xoxo/Richard

So, a group of researchers from Northeastern University teamed up with their colleagues from Harvard and decided to analyze the mood of America — not captured at any one time, but over the course of an average day. To do that, they looked at 300 million tweets sent out over the course of three years, from September 2006 to August 2009. They gauged the mood of Twitter users over every hour of the day, determining when people were the happiest, when they were angriest, and so on. Then, they mapped those moods, morphing the size of each state to reflect the volume of tweets per state. Like so:

Notice something interesting? While many states shift from red to green and back again (red being angry and green, happy), Louisiana is pretty much one Roma tomato, with flickers of “meh” thrown in for effect. Crankypants.

Of course, the three years in question weren’t the best for us, and we did (and do) have a lot to complain about. But maybe we’re not as happy-go-lucky as we (and the rest of the world) would like to believe.

[via Towleroad]

This online campaign to restore the Gulf of Mexico officially broke last week, but I’ve been so preoccupied (i.e. lazy, lascivious) that I haven’t had a chance to post it. Anyway, please take one minute and 40 seconds out of your day to watch the video below, and another 15 seconds to click through and sign the petition. That’s two minutes. Less, even.

And yes, I know some of you are dubious of celebrity-fueled causes. Believe me, I know. But if everyone were dubious of everything, Justin Bieber’s mom would never have sent him to Atlanta to sign that recording contract, and then where would be we, people? Would you really want to live in that world? Case rested.

And, might I add, fuck you to death.

P.S. I apologize if you’re actually a dude named Colin. NOAA’s system of nomenclature doesn’t always make sense to me — much like the careers of, say, Bonnie Franklin and Colin Farrell.

The fact that dude is still hot, in a get-busy-behind-the-truckstop kind of way:

Or at least he was, as of two years ago. Here’s the original caption for that photo:

ARCHIVE IMAGE DATE AND ORIG CAPTION: 8/28/08
EXCLUSIVE: A wild-eyed and muscle-bound Mel Gibson experienced an impromptu bout of craziness Monday on the Boston set of “Edge of Darkness.” In between takes, the 52-year-old tore off his shirt, revealing his still-chiseled frame, picked his nose, and appeared grief-stricken as looked around aimlessly. He then climbed up on top of his trailer, as if it was the Empire State Building and he were King Kong. Channeling his inner beast, as portrayed in the crazed roles of the “Lethal Weapon” series and “Mad Max,” Gibson laughed maniacally and pounded his chest. Though Gibson is known for his goofy on-set persona, his outburst seemed particularly influenced by rage and madness.

[SocialiteLife]

And by “Lindsay”, I assume he means “my right testicle”:

Won’t someone fight for this man’s right(s)?

[SocialiteLife]