Yes, it’s about time for a snowball lawsuit. Somehow, the fact that the alleged launcher was in a Hummer, on a snowball-flinging spree, makes me root for neither side.

From Germany, land of lederhosen and giant beer tankards, comes quite the unexpected problem. It seems Rico Gabel’s previously lustful Gustav lost his get-up-and-go for a period of six months, resulting in the loss of fourteen adorable little ostrichlets. At fault are the pyrotechnic antics of a couple of local teens, who are now being charged with responsibility for Herr Gabel’s (and Gustav’s) loss.

Poor Mr. Duplessis. Apparently, he signed a waiver that excused a Chicago tattoo parlor from everything, including spelling errors. “Tattoo remediation procedures” weren’t enough, and now Duplessis wants some compensation for emotional distress and such. Bonus points: after having “Chi-Tonw” emblazoned on his skin, the parlor went back and modified the waiver to reflect the hip new spelling.

“The ruffian must have heard my bell!” So claims Dr. Dlugi in his lawsuit against an 11-year-old skater who he startled into collision while riding his bike. The well-known (if not well-respected) reproductive endocrinologist claims lost wages and loss of his good wanking arm as part of the damages. Good on you, Dr.! These girls are exactly the type that go on into sleepover abuse. This kind of thing needs to be nipped in the bud.

It could only last so long. Apparently, someone is so outraged by the latest fashion in utility vehicle gonads (intended to hang from the hitch and pictured here in chrome) that they’re proposing a bill to bust ‘em. Now, I may be in the group of people who think these things are in poor taste, and further, I suspect that I’m in the majority here, but do we really need to tie up valuable legislative time with trivialities like this when we should be doing something about sleepover abuse?

In what promises to be the first of an exciting new category of lawsuits, golfer Fuzzy Zoeller is suing over a vandalized Wikipedia page. Apparently, somebody at an IP associated with some Miami law firm added a paragraph alluding to Fuzzy’s days of fuzziness, spent ambling about in a drug-induced alcoholic stupor. It’s true! I read about it on Wikipedia!

“If Prince is renting your house for $70,000 a month, you should expect some purple” sounds pretty obvious to me. But expect your bedroom to be converted into a hair salon? Expect purple stripes painted onto the exterior of your $8.5 million mansion?

The melodiously-named Alice Alyce is suing diminutive road hazard Billy Joel’s musical — Movin’ Out — for $100 million as punishment for her unfair dismissal. Apparently, her breasts were considered too large (huh?) and she was accused of faking a toe injury (huh?). No word from BJ, but the plaintiff adds: “[A]s an entertainer, and the father of a daughter, you’d think he’d understand,” says Alyce. “I do hope he calls me.”

Unfortunately Alyce, I don’t think Joel speaks Loony.

A Palm Beach woman is a bit miffed over some helpful notes in her prescription record, presumably placed there by the pharmacists who wished to convey (presumably) hard-earned knowledge in dealing with her. Bring on the lawyers!

Sure, God may have guided the brush of mass-market artist Thomas Kinkade for the last 20-odd years, but he sure hasn’t been keeping an eye on his heavy drinking or his gropy hands. You can read the extensive article to get to the details, but in summary: Kinkade is a bad man. Except for the heckling Siegfried and Roy part.