Whatever happened to Main Street?
Fortunately for the inner third grader in us all, many of the country's comedic city planners ditched the old standby in favor of something a little more ... insane.
When Mitsubishi Motors asked America to send in the zaniest street names they could find, 2,500 voters responded with a baffling barrage of bizarre byways, proudly crowning Psycho Path (in Traverse City, Mich.), as the wackiest street name in the nation, the Associated Press reports.
Not sure what to think about that?
Perhaps a stroll down Tennessee's Farfrompoopen Road, which happens to be the only route leading to Constipation Ridge, would clear your head.
Maybe you'd like to purchase a happy home on Divorce Court in Heather Highlands, Pa., or settle in to a relaxing existence on Bucket of Blood Street in Holbrook, Ariz.
Those who feel like one is not enough might try a corner lot at the intersection of Count and Basie in Richmond, Va., sing the blues at the corner of Lonesome and Hardup in Albany, Ga., or snicker at the spot where Clinton and Fidelity intersect in Houston.
Other monikers voted into the top ten include homage to the tasty (Tater Peeler Road in Lebanon, Tenn.), the ominous (Shades of Death Road in Warren County, N.J.) and the perpetually surprising (Unexpected Road in Buena, N.J.).
Thanks to Out There Readers Kathi C., Michael W., Derek H. and Ken D.
Every Good Crook Needs a Calling Card, Right?
STEVENS POINT, Wis. (AP) — A woman didn't have to look far to figure out who likely broke into her home and took a camera from her purse. Police said the burglar left behind his probation and parole card.
The woman was going through her purse after the burglary earlier this month to make sure nothing other the camera was taken, Detective Sgt. Tony Babl said.
She found the man's probation and parole card, which had a date and time stamp on it for his next appointment, he said.
"He must've had the card in his hand when he went into her purse," Babl said. "He doesn't even know how it got there."
The man had not yet been charged as of Saturday, though police plan to request burglary charges in the next week for at least eight incidents over the past three years, Babl said.
I'll Have a 'Perilous Water of Life' On the Rocks, Please
LONDON (AP) — A Scottish distillery said Monday it was reviving a centuries-old recipe for whisky so strong that one 17th-century writer feared more than two spoonfuls could be lethal.
Risk-taking whisky connoisseurs will have to wait, however — the spirit will not be ready for at least 10 years.
The Bruichladdich distillery on the Isle of Islay, off Scotland's west coast, is producing the quadruple-distilled 184-proof — or 92 percent alcohol — spirit "purely for fun," managing director Mark Reynier said.
Whisky usually is distilled twice and has an alcohol content of between 40 and 63.5 per cent.
Bruichladdich is using a recipe for a spirit known in the Gaelic language as usquebaugh-baul, "perilous water of life."
In 1695, travel writer Martin Martin described it as powerful enough to affect "all members of the body."
"Two spoonfuls of this last liquor is a sufficient dose; if any man should exceed this, it would presently stop his breath, and endanger his life," Martin wrote.
Reynier put Martin's test to the claim and consumed three spoonfuls.
"I can tell you, I had some and it indeed did take my breath away," Reynier said.
Bruichladdich, a small privately owned distillery founded in 1881, plans to make about 5,000 bottles of the whisky, which Reynier estimated would sell for about 400 pounds (US$695, euro590) per case of 12 bottles. Although whisky lovers can place their orders now, the actual spirit will not be delivered for about 10 years.
"You get a better drink if you wait because of the basic oxygenation through the oak barrels," Reynier said.
In the meantime, customers will be able to watch the whisky's progress on the distillery's webcams.
Does The Chewing Gum Lose Its Flavor On The Pricey Painting Overnight?
DETROIT (AP) — A 12-year-old visitor to the Detroit Institute of Arts stuck a wad of gum to a $1.5 million painting, leaving a stain the size of a quarter, officials say.
The boy was part of a school group from Holly that visited the museum on Friday, officials say. They say he took a piece of Wrigley's Extra Polar Ice gum out of his mouth and stuck it on Helen Frankenthaler's "The Bay," an abstract painting from 1963.
The museum acquired the work in 1965 and says it is worth about $1.5 million.
The gum stuck to the painting's lower left corner and did not adhere to the fiber of the canvas, officials told the Detroit Free Press. But it did leave a quarter-sized chemical residue, said Becky Hart, assistant curator of contemporary art.
The museum's conservation department is researching the chemicals in the gum to decide which solvent to use to clean it. The museum hopes to make the repair in two weeks and will keep "The Bay" on display in the meantime, she said.
"Our expectation is that the painting is going to be fine," Hart said.
Holly Academy director Julie Kildee said the boy had been suspended from the charter school and says his parents also have disciplined him.
"Even though we give very strict guidelines on proper behavior and we hold students to high standards, he is only 12 and I don't think he understood the ramifications of what he did before it happened, but he certainly understands the severity of it now," said Kildee.
Let's Get This Freak Show On the Road
WASHINGTON (AP) — On one shelf rests a giant hair ball that filled the stomach of a 12-year-old girl who compulsively chewed her hair. Floating in a nearby glass container is a young man's leg that ballooned in size because of elephantiasis.
The specimens are among thousands of medical oddities — many ghoulish — collected by the National Museum of Health and Medicine, which is dedicated to tracing the history and practice of medicine over the centuries.
But the museum, located on the 113-acre campus of Walter Reed Army Medical Center, likely will have to find a new home. Last summer, the Base Closure and Realignment Commission voted to close the hospital and move many of its medical services to suburban Bethesda, Md., by 2011.
The commission does not indicate what will happen to the museum, other than to say it will not be "disestablished." Museum officials are also uncertain, though it's expected to move with the hospital to Bethesda.
One of the museum's most popular objects from that era belongs to Union Gen. Daniel E. Sickles. His right leg was mangled by a Confederate cannonball in Gettysburg, Pa., in 1863, and had to be sawed off just above the knee.
The general decided to send the amputated leg to the museum in a miniature coffin. It came with a card that read: "With the compliments of Major General D.E.S."
Sickles recovered from the wound, and became fond of visiting his leg on the anniversary of the amputation.
A few steps away, the bullet that killed President Lincoln at Ford's Theatre also is displayed, as are bone fragments and hair from the president's skull and the bloodstained shirt of a doctor who assisted in the autopsy.
There are exhibits that show — sometimes in gruesome detail — how the body functions in sickness and health. Visitors can see deformed fetuses, including a pair of conjoined twins floating in a small jar. There's also a skeleton, sitting in a rocking chair, of a man who had such severe arthritis that all his bones fused together.
Only 1 percent of the museum's approximately 25 million artifacts are on display at any one time, Steven Solomon, Public Affairs Officer for the museum, said. In the past, many specimens were laid out for all to see — often with little explanation. Now, however, the museum strives to provide context with story-driven exhibits.
Among the many treasures stashed behind the scenes is the skeleton of Able, the first monkey to fly in space. In a blue cabinet across the room, the spinal cord of Lincoln's assassin, John Wilkes Booth, rests alongside a jar that contains President Dwight Eisenhower's gallstones.
The collection also includes a piece of President Garfield's vertebrae, which was pierced by an assassin's bullet in 1881 (though historians say doctors ultimately caused Garfield's death three months later, when they used unsterilized tools to probe his wound).
In the very next locker are two drawers filled with bones that belong to the crazed lawyer that shot him, Charles Julius Guiteau. There's even a jar that contains Guiteau's brain.
Compiled by FOXNews.com's Taylor Timmins.
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