Three days ago, the New York Times published the full text of a resignation letter from a top executive in the AIG financial products division — aka the crisis-causing bunch of greed-heads who should be whipped with broken-off car antennas (to summarize popular sentiment). If you’re interested in hearing the other side of the AIG bonus scandal, this resignation letter is the best summary you’ll find. Its author is articulate, forthright and angry. One politician after another has demanded to know the names of the AIG employees who were paid bonuses. Well, now they’ve got a start on that list, thanks to a fellow who worked for $1 a year to fix the mess under the explicit promise that there would be a payday later — which the government now wants to confiscate.

Two days ago, I couldn’t have told you what “plasma balls” were (although my guess would have been they involve unprotected frolicking and subsequent visits to the clinic). Turns out that just one well-aimed plasma ball could trigger the collapse of civilization, as this report on solar storms explains. Great. Just freakin’ great. As if it’s not enough that I have to worry about nuke-wielding terrorists, wayward asteroids, financial meltdown, serial killers, being caught in a Blood-Crips crossfire, drunken drivers, identity theft, anthrax-filled letters from strangers, home invaders, planes falling out of the sky onto my house, raging chimpanzees, tornadoes, hurricanes, global warming, and the possibility that Rahm Emanuel will personally order my permanent, double-secret detention at Guantanamo for illegal dissent. Now I also get to fret about plasma balls. Thanks a million, scientists.

I was unsure about posting this video of a duo singing “The Breakfast Song” on the morning show of a Mississippi TV station — mostly because somebody has inserted subtitles written in a mildly condescending dialect. But when I found the same video linked from blackamericaweb.com, I figured everyone was responding to it in the same spirit — which is to say, with delight at the utter weirdness and sincerity of the performance. Minister Cleo is in heaven now, and I hope he knows his song has been viewed on YouTube almost 700,000 times. I also hope he’s eating his fill of pancakes, bacon, strawberry jam, etc.