Not If He Were The Last Man On Earth

For Jonah Goldberg, every natural disaster brings the faint, fond hope that somehow, in the death, destruction, chaos and suffering of an utter breakdown of society it will be possible for him to get laid, preferably by a hot college student.

So I keep hearing that these efforts to capture, clean and release oiled wildlife are counterproductive. Most eventually die from the stress of the oil and, apparently just as stressful, the dishwashing soap baths. In one of those weird ironies of nature, being surrounded by a bunch of soapy-sponge-wielding attractive University of Alabama female zoology students in wet t-shirts is an excellent plot device for a late nigh cinemax movie when the subject "victim" getting a bath is a sensitive-yet-jocular ski instructor, but it's terrifying if you're a brown pelican.

Somehow the hotties of Co-Ed Confidential never seem to dip from the eager and virginal Young Republican pool of candidates. And all of the little libertarians and conservatives who grew up reading Robert Heinlein and can't wait for the opportunity to mate with charming and willing young co-eds when the world ends wait in vain for the end of civilization, when they might finally have a chance with a girl of their dreams.