Fox News chief Roger Ailes and his wife Elizabeth must get spooked a lot in their weekend home in rural Putnam Valley, N.Y., because they call 911 a lot. During one 30-day period last summer, police cars were dispatched to their address six times.

What terrible things should you fear today, you ask? Terrorists plotting to poison food at hotels and restaurants; crude bombs on Rome's subway; and the "suspicious odor" that caused the UN to evacuate this morning. And it's only 1pm.

Funny man Bill Maher, on his show Real Time with Bill Maher, said he's scared of a hot new trend in Britain: naming babies Mohammed. That's the most popular name for a baby boy there now, and Maher is "alarmed."

First it was our beds. Then our offices. Now, our wallets. Yes, the New York bedbug menace has begun to affect the city's tourism industry, with fearful, parasite-phobic travelers canceling trips. No, tourists, don't! That means the bedbugs have won!

Today we looked at the rekindled Flight 93 memorial Muslim controversy and sighed and shook our heads and threw up our hands. Well, most of us. One commenter was proactive and hatched an idea for a true, beautiful memorial.

Abduwali Abdukhadir Muse, the Somali pirate lucky(?) enough to be brought to NYC for trial, pleaded guilty yesterday to the failed hijacking of Hero Captain Richard Phillips' ship. His case is unspeakably sad. But it could be worse!

Saturday Night Live has had a Lion's share of great TV moments during the show's illustrious run. Some of the most memorable moments come from the musical guests.

Writing on the internet is not committed to paper nor subjected to the same bureaucratic intercession of minders charged with protecting institutional reputations. For loathsome New Republic Leon Wieseltier, this makes the web suspect and newfangled and just annoying.

We missed this incredibly worrying account of the (apparently) increasing Presidential aspirations of another Bush over the weekend. As we'd hate for you not to be flushed with fear, here it is now. [McClatchy]

In Commentary, Jennifer Rubin attempted to explain why The Jews hate Sarah Palin. (Because they hate Real Americans, is basically her answer.) David Frum rebuts: she is just scary to everyone! Both leave out one hugely important detail.

Glenn Beck's talking up some scary plan for 2010 lately. It's scary because Glenn Beck is talking. And today, Glenn Beck unveiled his 100-year plot to fundamentally change America—and democracy—as we know it. Glenn Beck is fucking insane.

It'd appear as though the British press have now discovered the distinct charms of American Apparel founder Dov Charney. The Daily Mail published a fire and brimstone write-around for mass Brit Tabloid Consumption on Donger Dov's unique business practices.

William Safire's death has made Peggy Noonan concerned that mean words from annoying MSNBC Ed Schultz will make a crazy person shoot the president.

Here is the new thing for you to worry about, in terms of your own unavoidable violent death: Al Qaeda is now smuggling bombs inside their rectums. There is no hope of detection until it blows.

Pretty quiet summer monster season this year, right? Wrong, mi amigo. A distant cousin of the Montauk Monster emerged from its cave in Panama. Then terrified kids beat it to death.

The New York Daily News says the FBI fears a "Madrid-style" subway bombing in New York, and the man reported to be the mastermind will hold a press conference today. For better or worse, this is what we voted for.

Peggy Noonan likes Barack Obama, she really does. But he should know, she writes, that he is terrifying everyone. And that is why they are all shouting at congressmen, now. Because Obama scared them.

McKinsey & Co.'s penny-pinching audit of Conde Nast is underway, and they're successfully striking fear into the hearts of employees at all levels. Apparently magazines are expected to "make money," now?

Since we're in the midst of a vague, threatening porn industry HIV scare, some things are changing. Like talent-producer relations. Do you trust your porn stars? Don't! [UPDATED]:

As far as nightmare-fueling Dancing with the Stars performances go, nothing in the sequence above even approaches Marie Osmond's legendary Baby Doll Dance of Despair—a harrowing journey into wind-up madness that to this day makes our left eyelid twitch whenever we hear the song "Start Me Up" or see the color pink. We'll extend that now to fuchsia, too, as it seems Cloris Leachman's hairpiece-malfunction-plagued rockabilly ballet has already burrowed itself into our subconscious; we hold it singularly responsible for what is sure to be a recurring Busby Berkeley-on-bad-acid fever dream, featuring our worm's-eye view of hundreds of spanky-pants-wearing octogenarians scissor-kicking around us in circle formation.