Some pictures captures a moment. Others capture a story. For this week’s Shooting Challenge , I asked you to stage a scene. Your results were sometimes funny, sometimes beautiful, sometimes sad and always worthwhile. More

Several years ago, I posted about a funny series of finance videos Daniel Rubin created for Motley Fool. Lately, Daniel has been drawing celebrity caricatures that remind me a bit of what a Hirschfeld/Savage Pencil collaboration might look like. And yes, I know that’s a rather collaboration to imagine. Above left, Sid Vicious and Johnny Rotten; right, The Dude. Daniel Joshua Rubin (Thanks, Bob Pescovitz!)

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Daniel Rubin’s celebrity caricatures

According to an old ledger book, George Washington ( the George Washington) checked two books (one on international law, one a transcript of debates in the British House of Commons) from the New York Society Library in October, 1789 and never returned them. His inflation-adjusted fines are now more than $100,000. John Adams also failed to return one of the books he checked out. According to its website, the New York Society Library was formed in 1754, and served as the first Library of Congress when New York was the capital. The ledger from that time period was lost for many years, but was rediscovered in the 1930s. It shows that many “founding fathers” besides Washington used the Library at that time, including Alexander Hamilton, John Jay, and Aaron Burr. According to the ledger, they all got their books back on time, but not the Father-in-Chief. “We’re not actively pursuing the overdue fines,” said head librarian Mark Bartlett, “but we would be very happy if we were able to get the books back.” Fat chance, given that Washington died in 1799 and so his family has almost certainly grabbed all the good stuff by now. And for those of you hoping that this might be a case of mistaken paperwork rather than a book-swiping chief executive, further evidence came to light just last week that the two books are actually gone. A librarian apparently stumbled upon the set of “Commons Debates” volumes, which it seems had been misplaced, and all 14 volumes were there — except for Volume 12, the one Washington checked out. President Accused of Theft, Failing to Pay Massive Library Fines Previously: Judge orders woman to return two library books or go to jail … Library celebrates Banned Books Week with window-display featuring … Kid keeping a lending library of banned books in his her locker … Man returns library book due in 1955 Burning the library in slow motion: how copyright extension has … Children's book library from 1937: My Book House

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George Washington owes $100K in library fines

Gill Hornby’s holiday in paradise became much less appealling when she was told she couldn’t leave And forward, and back, and in, and out… And it’s yet another aqua aerobics session we were never meant to see. But here we still are. On Tenerife. Under the boringly blue sky. Looking out at the ferry-less sea. Trapped. Of course, we are among the lucky ones. Not sleeping on the streets or termini of mainland Europe, we still have our hotel rooms. Our holiday has just, in theory, been extended. Except, it transpires, a holiday is an elective thing. You have to want to be on it, or it ceases to be. And anyone who has texted “Enjoy!” or “Jealous!” can expect to get their heads stoved in on our return. Our quick dash to “paradise” lost its charm when the ash cloud lost its funny side – about teatime on Thursday. We’d started packing first thing, with the usual vague sense of apprehension. Four young children, easyJet, too many bags, a sister-in-law with a hernia: what could possibly go wrong? The list was lengthy, and yet Iceland, volcano, and ash cloud were not even on it. How naive we all were. Since then, the resort has changed its identity. No longer guests, we are captives. We’re bored of chips – imagine! – and Sky News, and sun. We’ve turned a funny colour, like criminals dodging extradition: a bank-robber brown. The children could do with a spot of formal education. Were running out of books. Everyone’s finished Wolf Hall, and it didn’t occur to us to bring the Bible or Shakespeare. Only the aerobics is keeping us going. In dark hours, there is the panic about being shut off from Spain. Darker still, comes the realisation that we are – ha! – on a volcano. How can we be sure that it won’t hear its northern mates are having a bit of a knees-up and want to join in? Ok, I’m no volcanologist, but no volcanologist seems to be much of a volcanologist either. The hotel bills are mounting, and no one is sure whether we’ll get it back or the insurance company will try that old act of God scam. Even when its a god we can name, Vulcan – and shame – how could you? Once, we luxuriated within it; now all anyone talks about is how to get the hell out of it. Booking flights that will never take off, searching for ferries that don’t exist, staring wistfully, wonderingly, at pedalos. When we first booked this “holiday”, my little nephew whimpered: “But I don’t want to go to an island” and we laughed. Bless! We don’t have “islands” any more. They’re old school. We have planes and tunnels. “This Island Race” ‑ that’s not us, not these days. And now here we are, on a sodding island in the middle of nowhere. And there is home, on another island miles away. We are starting to wonder if we are ever going to see it ever again. And home is already becoming hard to recognise. As we have got browner, the country seems to have turned a strange shade of orange. Everyone seems to have a crush on something called Clegg – virtually unknown back in our day. All those politicians have been electioneering away as if nothing else was happened. Now, finally, it seems somebody’s noticed that there are thousands of us stuck all over the place. This could be the next game changer. Gordon, we’ve all had a word: if you can, as they say, get the Navy out here, we will personally deliver you a 0.5% swing. Meanwhile we’re still stuck, getting ever browner, even more wrinkled. Rather bored, very homesick. Extremely toned. And still trying to think ourselves lucky. Canary Islands Spain Flights Natural disasters and extreme weather Iceland guardian.co.uk

(TrendHunter.com) This funny design called ‘Sore Loser’ by Tom Kitchen features two boys, one of whom is pulling the other’s tongue out of his mouth. Sure, the image is a bit macabre, but I love it. ‘Sore Loser’ comes in…

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Tongue-Pulling Laptop Decals – ‘Sore Loser’ by Tom Kitchen is Fun for Folks Who Love to Win (GALLERY)

In 1978, a team of scientists succeeded in proving that “vaginal malodor” among women using the contraceptive sponge is caused by sperm—specifically, the components sperm breaks down into after having been killed by spermicide. That’s the interesting part. The funny part, as pointed out by blogger Scicurious , is imagining the awkward lives of the grad students involved in this study. Money quote: “Hey, go put this is in, get it on, and come back immediately, please, we’ll need that spunk.”

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Sometimes, "lady funk" is caused by sperm

I’m not clear on whether this Cracked.com image is a photoshop job or an actual fountain somewhere in the world (the former USSR?) or just a clever idea for repurposing all that Stalin-era monumentary, but it’s sure a fine idea. I once got to visit the Soviet theme-park outside of Budapest, which is basically a giant field filled with Soviet-era statues, and it was a kind of Stalinist Easter Island experience, all these nigh-identical socialist realist piles looking bravely into the future. But this is even better. Craptions Feb 25th, 2010 ( via Making Light ) Previously: Statues of Lenin with a boner for communism Soviet bunker as theme park

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Soviet statues as comedy fountains

Waking Up From a Wild Night She’s gonna have to abandon those and go it commando. Read more…

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Waking Up From a Wild Night