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May 30, 2003
Links of the Day
Chipstah! has casting ideas for the Fox News reporter in the In My World™ movie. I say Patrick Warburton should play Buck.
PM Jean Chretien is fisked by both Ari Fleischer and Emperor Misha I; I almost feel sorry for him.
Haven't linked to a Kim du Toit gun rant in a while, and here is a damn good one.
Frank Answers: Planck Time vs. Miller Time, Ninja Turtles, and Hitting Monkeys with a Car
Robert J. from Gusev Crater, Mars asks:
As we all know, a Planck time is the time it takes a photon going at the speed of light to travel a Planck length. Just to remind you, a Planck length is the scale at which classical ideas about gravity and space-time cease to be valid. This is equal to 1.6x10^-35 meters. It takes a photon 10^-43 seconds to travel this length, and thus 10^-43 is the smallest unit of time that has any actual meaning in physics as we understand it today.
In the end, Planck time is a measurement of time, while the lesser-known Miller time expresses a condition of matter and is not an actual measurement. Miller time is reached with enough proton, electrons, and neutrons come together to form something referred to by physicists as a "fat party animal" which then proceeds to drink beer and dance around. This condition lasts for many times that of Planck time, and has undesirable aftereffects the morning after.
For this questions, it is best to consult the ultimate ninja authority. According to him, these are the essential facts about a ninja:
While fact two and three may be true about ninja turtles, ninja turtles are reptiles, thus going against fact one. Ergo, ninja turtles are not actual ninjas. Their leader, Splinter, is, though.
This is a great question, and the fear of this rift and undesired results is the main reason why I obey all traffic laws when driving my Hyundai.
Now, it would be irresponsible to experimentally drive a JATO-assisted 1972 Chevy Impala into a circus truck full of monkeys because if it does cause the "Planet of the Apes" scenario, everyone will be mad at me, including me myself. Thus, I instead tried the experiment on a smaller scale.
First, I obtained the smallest monkey, a Tarsier, and then bough a remote control car from radio shack. I placed the monkey and the car in an empty room so there was nowhere for the monkey to climb away, and then started chasing him with the car. You should have seen the little thing screech and run away! It was hilarious! He was two slow to outrun the car, though, so I kept bumping him. He'd then make these angry little monkey sounds and try and run away again. But SMACK! I'd get him again. Sometimes he'd get a breather because I'd fall to the ground laughing. I really should have filmed the experiment. So what was I trying to prove again?
Heh heh... monkeys are funny.
* * * *
Please keep the questions coming, e-mailing me with the subject "Frank Answers" and include your name and town after the question and blog URL if you have one. Since I like the whole name and town dynamic, if you don't give me a place you're from, I'll randomly select one.
Frank Tips for Meeting With Jacques Chirac
President Bush will be meeting with Jacques Chirac today for the first time since the war, so I have some tips for him about the meeting:
* Start by working the body. You'll want to start slow, which means a series of punches to his gut.
* Use object in the room around you. This doesn't just mean to pick up those objects and break them over Chirac, put to also use Chriac's head to break objects that are too big to pick up.
* Make sure to build up some momentum before smashing his head into the wall. You'll need some good momentum to leave a nice impression in the drywall.
* Avoid the sleeper hold. It's pointless if he's unconscious.
* Remember your joints. Joints such as your knee and elbow make great blunt weapons. Don't forget to use them.
* Use your body weight. Eventually it will become tiresome to keep propping Chirac up. Then you may want to do some elbow drops on him.
* When he is down, Texas Two-Step. Like I have to remind you.
* This isn't boxing; all blows are legal. Some may say it's unsporting to go for the groin, but I say it makes a nice finale after you've thoroughly beaten him through other means.
May 29, 2003
Links of the Day
Maripat has more courage than me about talking about serious issues involving oneself. So far, I like to keep this a very non-personal blog.
Bill Quick is going to be trying his hand at moving property in the San Francisco area. Congrats on passing the real estate exam, Bill.
Emperor Misha I has an actual news story about a terrorist attack.
Finally, have you pre-ordered your t-shirt yet?
Frank Answers: Meat Eating Vegans, Job Advice, and Electrical Engineering is Sweet
WWWaylon from Spielmeck, Lintuvia asks:
The best way to answer this question was to trick a vegan into eating a double-cheeseburger. I simply told one vegan that it was in fact a veggie burger with soy cheese. He expressed doubt, saying it looked too edible for that to be true, but I was able to convince him that it was a brand new product that used special soy and lentil mixtures to make a food-like substance that wasn't disgusting. He fell for it, and chowed down the burger. No effects were immediately observed.
I then thought, perhaps knowledge of it being real meat would work as a catalyst. So I informed the vegan, "Hey, that was a real burger made with real cow and cheese from actual cow milk stolen from cows!"
He was horrified, and then blathered on and on about how horrible we are to animals and how much better it is to be a vegan and be one with nature. It got so annoying, I finally punched him, knocking two of his teeth out.
So, eating a double cheeseburger will not kill a vegan, but it will cause injury.
Not knowing your degree, it's hard to say. I'd recommend back-up rap singer. All you do is say, "Yeah!" and "Uh-huh!" at appropriate intervals while someone else does all the complicated part of rapping. Sounds like little work, and you get all the hos you want.
Nathan Edmonton, Alberta writes:
Yes I am a Catholic, but I disagree with you on the discipline of electrical engineering. It's so sweet. You see, I'm a digital engineer, and all I have to know is how to add the numbers 1 and 0 together and I get paid mad money. It's so easy.
Ah, who am I kidding? I just drink coffee most the day.
The continuation will be at the next regularly scheduled In My World™, which is Monday. So, will Buck be successful in his fight against the Lintuvians? What is Black Project Insano, and can anyone stop Condoleezza Rice from using it to take over the world? And can Ari keep everything hidden from the wily and sexy Fox News reporter? Find the answers to these questions and more plus a special guest appearance by Michael Moore on Monday.
* * * *
Please keep the questions coming, e-mailing me with the subject "Frank Answers" and include your name and town after the question and blog URL if you have one. Since I like the whole name and town dynamic, if you don't give me a place you're from, I'll randomly select one.
May 28, 2003
A fire caused Hosting Matters to be down most of the day, but it looks like I'm back. I worked long and hard on today's In My World™ (number one of at least a two-parter), and it is finally viewable again, so I'm just going to leave that as the sole post (other than this one) and maybe do some more Frank Answers™ tomorrow afternoon.
Carnival of the Vanities was up, then went down with everyone else, and is up again.
UPDATE: Hell, one more thing. The Nuke the Moon shirts are available for pre-order now.
In My World: Black Project Insano Part I
Jacques Chirac sat in his office contemplating how superior he was to all other foreign leaders, when suddenly the phone rang. "Hello?"
"Hey... uh... this is Pierre. You know... Pierre."
"Oh, hello, Pierre. How are you?"
"You're not sounding very French today."
"I have a cold. Anyway, I was looking for Chezz. Do you know him?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Well, he should be with two other people somewhere near your office. The other two are Sue and Norm. If you could get them for me, I'd appreciate it."
"Certainly. Just to be clear, though, what are their last names?"
"Well, Chezz's last name is Eaton. Sue's last name is... uh... I can't remember. But I know, Norm's; it's Unkies."
"Yeah, I don't what nationality that name is."
"Well, I'll go see if I can find them."
"Thanks Jacque-strap; you're a real help."
Chirac took his cordless phone with him as he headed out into the main lobby. "Are you Chezz Eaton, Sue, and Norm Unkies?" he asked the first group he saw. He then shouted out, "Are there Chezz Eaton, Sue, and Norm Unkies here? Someone check the nearby military base for Chezz Eaton, Sue, and Norm Unkies!"
Everyone started laughing.
"Oh, it's you again!" Chirac said angrily into the phone, "When I find out who this is, I'll impotently demand to you to stop!"
The only response was more laughter.
* * * *
"Oh, that was classic," Bush chuckled as he hung up the phone. "Aren't you going to miss this when you leave, Ari?"
"Hey, man, I told you; I have to follow my heart," Ari Fleischer replied, "I just know my band 'American Hellbender' is going to take off big with its mix of reggae, techno, and country done to a new age beat."
"Can we get to the business at hand?" Condoleezza Rice demanded angrily, "There are lots of evil nations out there, and they aren't going to bomb themselves! Well, maybe North Korea is crazy enough to do that... but we can't count on it!"
"Fine. So who should we attack next, Rumsfeld?"
"See this map here?" Rumsfeld said, walking up to a large map on the wall. Suddenly he shouted "Rarr!" and started ripping away the map until finally nothing was left except for the U.S. He then stuffed the pieces of the map into a wastebasket and set them on fire.
"As your Secretary of State," Colin Powell stated, "I'd like to point out that there might be some disadvantages to destroying all other countries."
"You weak willed liberal!" Rumsfeld screamed, "You're on the terrorist's side!" He then tried to lunge at Powell who ran out of the room while Rice and Ari tried to hold Rumsfeld back. Rumsfeld eventually calmed down and returned to his seat.
"So, have any smaller plans for who we fight next?" Bush asked.
"I do," Rice replied, "Ever heard of the small island country of Lintuvia?"
"No," Bush answered, "but yesterday was the first time I heard of Brazil."
"Well it's a small, isolated island dictatorship in the Indian Ocean," Rice continued, "and an easy target."
"What have they done to us?"
"What have they done for us?" Rice responded, "Anyway, it's great testing ground for our new military weapon: Black Project Insano!"
"Wow! That sounds cool!" Bush exclaimed, "What is it?"
"Well, I don't really know..." Rice admitted, "I just know it's our greatest project ever... but the exact details are beyond my security clearance."
"What about mine? I'm the president."
"Even beyond yours," Rice told him.
"What about you, Rumsfeld?"
"I just don't give a rat's ass."
"So who does know?" Bush asked.
"That's also classified beyond our level," Rice said.
"Wait," Bush suddenly exclaimed, "I think I do know who knows."
"Yes, you were fooled into knowing who knows," Rice explained, "That's part of Black Project Insano."
"Am I supposed to know that I was fooled?"
"Yes, you have the clearance to know that the one you think you know who knows, doesn't actually know. That was a bit of an oversight."
"So who actually knows who knows what Black Project Insano is?"
"That is also too classified."
"So who knows who knows who knows what Black Projext Insano is?"
"Ah, so we have to find Dick."
"This is idiotic," Rumsfeld commented, "Can't we just bomb countries and shoot people as normal?"
"Do not underestimate the power of Black Project Insano!" Rice shot back, "First we test it on Lintuvia, and then the world will be mine!" She started laughing evilly, but then noticed everyone staring at her. "Uh... I mean the world will be at peace and run by the U.S."
"I'm going to look for Dick Cheney," Bush said. He then went to the door of the conference room and shouted out, "Laura! Is Dick in one of the cupboards in the kitchen?"
"Honey, I can't always be finding Cheney for you," Laura answered.
"Did you forget where you undisclosed him again?" Rice asked angrily.
"Remember, he was with us at the mall this afternoon," Ari said.
"Oh, then we just have to wait for him to drive back," Bush answered.
"But, dude, we drove him."
"Oh man!" Bush exclaimed, "I stranded Dick at the mall again. He's going to be all angry and having heart attacks."
"We'll send someone to get him," Rice stated, "Now we need to send a Special Forces group to clear Lintuvia of any resistance."
"I know who you should send," Rumsfeld said.
"Who?" Bush asked.
"Buck... the Marine!"
* * * *
"Hello, Buck here - Buck the Marine that is... This is the president? President of what? ...The United State of America! That's the best thing to be president of. So what can I do for you, sir? ...You want me to do a mission in Lintuvia? Are their foreigners there? ...Then they're dead! Now I just need you to give me some supplies... What do you mean I have to buy my own bullets? ...You can't afford bullets for me so you could have a tax cut for the rich! That doesn't seem right... Well, yes, I guess rich people do deserve the money they earn, and that they do contribute a lot to society through investments and creating new jobs... and it was selfish of me to think of myself when they were being overtaxed... Yes, I'll do that. I'll write and apology to the local Millionaire's club before I head out... Yes, that to, I'll be more happy for what I have: my free room and board and my fifty dollars a month salary... What do you mean you want me to pay rent now! How much tax cuts do rich people need? ...That makes me so mad I could kill people! ...Yes, I guess that is good timing. I'll get ready for the mission."
* * * *
"Funny I have to leave now," Ari said at the press conferences, "just as I've finally figured out how to handle Helen Thomas." He took out a laser pointer. "Get the red dot, Helen! Get it!"
Helen chased the laser point. "That red dot is mine!" She eventually followed it until it made her jump out the window.
"So, any questions?" Ari said as he put away the laser pointer.
"What this we hear about 'Black Project Insano'?"
Ari fiercely grabbed the reporter. "WHO TOLD YOU?" Ari screamed at the top of his lungs. He then noticed everyone was looking at him with fright. He gently set the reporter back down and patted him on the shoulder. "I mean, what a ridiculous thing. I've never heard of any... whatever it was you just said. That's just some crazy fiction you probably read about in the Weekly World News or the New York Times."
"I have a question," said the Fox News reporter. "Iran is reportedly harboring al Qaeda terrorists, so why haven't we marched in there and hung those supposedly responsible by their own entrails? Is it because the Bush administration sympathizes with terrorists, or is it because you're all a bunch of pussies?"
"Well... uh... the diplomatic way to do this..."
"And my follow up question," she continued, "Is whether you think it's apt to describe your departure from the Bush administration by using the analogy of rats fleeing a sinking ship... with one of those rats being grotesque and balding."
"Now you're just being mean," Ari said angrily, "and... and... are you wearing a bikini?"
"Producer's idea; these press conferences don't get very good ratings." She then listened to something coming in from her earpiece. "No I'm not going to jump up and down when I ask questions!"
"You know, at CNN we have higher journalistic integrity," proudly said a CNN reporter.
"You're only talking to me like that because you know I don't have anywhere to conceal a gun!" the Fox News reporter shot back angrily. "We're the number one news channel for a reason." She then listened to a new message coming from her earpiece. "No I won't take my top off!"
A Secret Service agent walked up to Ari. "It's time."
"Uh, I'm going to go hide out in a five mile deep underground shelter for no particular reason," Ari announced, "So this press conference is over."
"Maybe I'll mud wrestle another reporter," the Fox News reporter said as she listened to her earpiece, "But we have to renegotiate my contract first."
May 27, 2003
Links of the Day
Maripat and Lori have ten ideas to drive up their traffic. Number one is always a sure fire winner.
Acidman is having blogs voted off his blogroll. Maybe something for me to try; it has gotten a bit fat as of late.
Oh, and go to Right Wing News so I can win a contest!
Frank Answers: Rocks God Can't (Won't?) Lift, Netscape, and I Like Punch'n
Richard Z. from Kang, Botswana writes:
I'd say it would be for God to drop a giant rock on a hippy's foot. Then the hippy would be like, "Whoa! This is harshing my mellow! Please lift this rock, God!"
And God would be like, "Sorry, dude, the rock is too big; I can't lift it."
"But you're God! You can do anything!"
And God would get all angry. "I know Who I am! You don't tell Me Who I am!"
Then God would take another swig of His divine whiskey and smite more monkeys.
I use Netscape sometime from work, so I realize this problem. Unfortunately, Microsoft paid me a large amount of money to make my website inconvenient to Netscape users. They also threatened my family. So, what was I supposed to do?
Now just give in and only use Microsoft products like the rest of us.
Well, if we all got along, who the hell would I punch? Duh.
* * * *
Please keep the questions coming, e-mailing me with the subject "Frank Answers" and include your name and town after the question and blog URL if you have one. Since I like the whole name and town dynamic, if you don't give me a place you're from, I'll randomly select one.
Destable Is Where You Put Dehorses
People are calling for a regime change in Iran, figuring the best way to do it is to destabilize the government since there are so many pro-America people in Iran. But what are some good ways to destabilize something?
* Shaking It Up: Once when I was eight, I mistook my ant farm for my Etch-a-Sketch and totally shook it up (I don't know what was in the Kool-aid that day). As a result, that ant community was totally destabilized. Similarly, we could shake up Iran using a weapon that causes earthquakes like in the movie The Core which I heard about but didn't see because it sounded stupid.
* Ridiculing Leaders: Their government would collapse if no one respected the leaders. What we should do is when one of their crazy religious types appears live on T.V., we should have someone run up, yank his beard, and run away. Then everyone would be like, "Hey! Look at the stupid beardo! Let's throw rocks at him!" Total destabilization!
* Sword of Damocles: You know how they say we can have cruise missiles fly through windows and down streets without hitting anything other than the intended target, well let's like constantly do that. Have cruise missiles flying all over town, obeying traffic laws and doing loop-de-loops to impress the kids... but not hitting anything. That is, unless Iran's leaders piss us off, because then the cruise missile will merge onto the highway, take exit 16, make the first right (is there right on red in Tehran?), and then fly straight into the capitol building.
* Massive Doses of Radiation: If I remember right, massive doses of radiation will destabilize a substance. But how do you deliver massive doses of radiation to a country...
* Phat Beats: We could airdrop Beastie Boys CD's on Iran, and, when everyone is playing "Intergalactic Planetary", "Fight For Your Right to Party", and "Brass Monkeys", everything will totally destabilize. It will be kick ass!
Well, that all the ideas I have right now. Now let's destabilize!
May 26, 2003
Help Some Troops This Memorial Day
Happy Memorial Day, but, more to the point, there are some troops who could use your help. Kevin reports from an Undisclosed Middle Eastern Country™ that they had a fire at his base, causing 29 soldier and 12 Marines (maybe one of them was Buck) to lose whatever they didn't have on them at the time. He has put up a paypal donation button, so go over there and give our troops a little help.
May 24, 2003
Now You Can Show the World You Support World Peace
The Nuke the Moon t-shirt is on its way, being made by ThoseShirts.com (home of the famous "Celebrate Diversity" t-shirt). It will be some weeks before it is actually available, but here is what the design will be (thanks to reader Mitch Green for coming up with the original design):
Have a fun Memorial Day weekend.
May 23, 2003
Links of the Day
Tim Blair has finally moved from blogspot, thanks to Andrea Harris. When will Volokh finally follow suit? You just can't be that popular and still be on blogspot. Hell, I’d be grateful to host his blog myself. It could be called “The Volokh Conspiracy Plus One Idiot”.
On the Fritz is on fire. You really should be checking them out every day, but here are three posts I thought were particularly good. Here's Fritz own guide to the Homeland Security Alert levels. I just love the last couple lines to the red level. Also, the picture to this article is hilarious (well, so is the article). Also, Frank predicts the future of the final two American Idol contestants.
Letterman Plagarizes IMAO!
Here is now the greatest scandal of plagiarism, even eclipsing Jayson Blair’s foibles with the New York Times.
Here is a quote from an In My World™ post dated January 19, 2003:
"I think the president welcomes the fact that we are a democracy and people in the United States, unlike Iraq, are free to protest and to make their case known," said Whitehouse Press Secretary Ari Fleischer at a press conference, never once looking up from the Gameboy Advance in his hands.
And here is one of the entries from "Top Ten Signs Ari Fleischer Doesn't Care Anymore" that appeared on Letterman on May 20th:
8. Gives monosyllabic answers to press questions, then goes back to his Gameboy
The only logical explanation for this is that the Late Show with David Letterman is ripping me off without credit!
Ah, who am I kidding; it's probably a coincidence. But wouldn't it be cool if it weren't? Then all I need to Conan O'Brien to steal my material and my life would be complete.
Frank Answers: The Sun, REMF, and Imaginary Numbers
Jason Hannemann from Austin, Texas asks
God I hate the Sun. I'm still peeling from the sunburn I got a couple weeks ago in Miami. So far, I've never heard any advantages about the sun, but I know it gets in my eyes and drives up my electric bill from me having to use AC. And think of all the cool places we could go if the Earth was allowed to float free through the galaxy instead of being pinned in an orbit around the egotistical Sun.
The Sun is not that large for a star, so it probably has an inferiority complex which is why it's such a bully. As soon as I figure out how, I will destroy the sun, and I will be known as Frank, Destroyer of Suns. And I will be feared.
Good question. To know more, I'd have to ask have you been in a firefight? Have you been near a firefight? Have you heard gunshots in the distance at least? Do you regularly carry a firearm?
Then again, you're in an Undisclosed Middle Eastern Country™, while I'm here in my office eating pizza, so in comparison you seem like freak'n Rambo. And, once you get back to the states, you can walk around in your uniform and tell all the women any stories you want, and they'll have to believe them.
"So one day three Iraqis, real mean Baath party members, charge at me. Big mistake. I take them out with a series of kung-fu moves, finally grabbing their leader from behind and snapping his neck like a tooth pick. A fight like that made me hungry, and luckily it was now lunchtime. The side today was tater-tots covered in gravy, and damn was that good. Now give me some sugar, baby."
Pure crap is the short answer. No number can be squared and remain negative, so some mathematician made up this number i one day, but who gives a rats ass? Other mathematicians, I guess. Other than to those freaks, it's completely useless.
Okay, so I remember using imaginary numbers in my college class on analog circuits for these things called phazons or phasors, but we engineers just made use of i so the mathematicians wouldn't feel so useless (even though they are).
I'll admit it, the reason I'm so down on imaginary numbers is that they don't let you make up your own. Why can the square root of -1 be an imaginary number, but not one divided by zero. I'd call it imaginary number x. But my eighth grade math teacher told me, "No, you can't make your own imaginary number. Stop trying to divide things by zero."
And I was like, "You f**king bitch! You don't tell me what to do. I'll f**king kill you!"
And then the whole math class tackled me and tried to pry the compass from my hand, but the devil was in me and there was no stopping me. Finally the bell rang, though, and it was time for recess.
Saved by the bell, Mrs. Glogowski. Saved by the bell.
* * * *
"No, Mr. Uday, We Want You to Die."
I just heard on the news this morning that Uday Hussein may be willing to surrender, but he is just worried about what interrogation techniques we may use on him. Think of all the things we could learn from him:
*Where is Saddam Hussein is hiding.
I got this great idea. Once we're in the middle of torturing him, we could have someone stop us saying he's from Amnesty International. Then, when Uday is like, "Thank you. I couldn’t take it anymore," he could walk up to Uday and start whaling on him; it would be hilarious. Uday, you've been punk'd!
May 22, 2003
Frank Answers: Resistors, Midnight Basketball, and Polymers
Dave from Gyrumi, Armenia asks:
Most would say that the numbers on surface mount resistors reflect their resistance, and, a quick check with a multi-meter would seem to confirm this, but the real answer is much more ominous. They really are tags that allow the Zionists conspirators to track and control all electronic devices. Yes, that's right, the Jews control the computer you are using even as we speak. The only defense against this is to install the resistors in backwards.
Midnight basketball has been proven an effective way to reduce crime. In a recent study, serial killers who played midnight basketball, though not less likely to kill, were less serial in their killing. Basketball would probably be a great alternative to looting in Iraq. It also may work for the Palestinian bombers as they will be too tired to get up early and bomb the next morning, and might not get to the mall until it's already closed. I still say mass execution is the best solution for that problem, though. After that, I'd try midnight basketball.
To understand polymers, you have to understand the origin of the word. "Poly" means many, and "Mer" is what one of the three wise guys gave to baby Jesus. I don't know if it was enough mer to be qualified as polymer, but everyone's attention was probably on the gold anyway.
Since the time of Jesus, polymers have become an essential part of human life and surround us every day. Why, even right now a polymer waits behind you, its icy hand slowly reaching for your throat.
Ha! Made you look! Seriously, though, the best way I have found to make polymers is through thinly veiled threats. "There better be a polymer on my desk by the end of the hour or there is going to be some poly-punching!"
I hope that helps.
* * * *
A Frank Guide to Homeland Security Alert Levels
Everyone has heard of the Homeland Security Advisory System by now and its rainbow of colors, but most are confused of exactly what it means to them about how they should act and live when it is at its different levels of alert. That's why I've decided to create this guide make things clearer to the people.
First, here is what the alert levels mean in general:
To be more specific, here is how you should you act in different situations based on the alert levels.
May 21, 2003
Links of the Day
What were you doing during the Cold War? I was watching G.I. Joe and the Smurfs. Emperor Misha I has a much more interesting story.
Frank at On the Fritz has a better way to decide American Idol (which is about to come to its conclusion as I watch).
I forgot to link to this yesterday. It's a list of quotes from every single U.S. president. I thought the Lyndon Johnson one was pretty funny, and the first George Washington quote is pretty awesome.
Frank Answers: Chicken or Egg, Licking Batteries, and the Flying Frank Fan Club
Dave from Colonia, Uruguay asks:
I never understood why this was considered such a hard question. Eggs predate the chicken by millions of years, harking back to first egg laying fish.
Or is this some sort of creationist thing where God just suddenly created the chicken and it fell from the sky. If that's the case, then He would have made the chicken and not a chicken egg, because the egg would have broke upon impact. That would be cool if that were true and that God still creates creatures that way. You're just sitting in a park, minding your own business, and suddenly this huge dino-creature God just made falls from the sky. I know that's what I would do if I were God; find some large congregation of people and then suddenly create some horrific beast. I'd then laugh my divine ass off as everyone fled in terror. I never was in to the whole "benevolence" thing.
Well, Carrie, you understand that batteries are a great scientific accomplishment and they cost lots of money. You also understand that to play around and stick them in your mouth is wrong, so that tingle you feel is your conscience. 9-Volt batteries cost more, so your conscience gets really tingly if you put one in your mouth. AA batteries don't cost as much, so licking one just causes your conscience to make your tongue have a salty taste. Now listen to your conscience and stop putting batteries in your mouth.
A fan site of me is a great idea, and, if Ari Fleischer can be a sex symbol, then I sure as hell can. You must be a smart group of girls. Unfortunately, I don't have many other pictures in digital form than those ones I took by holding a camera at arms length. If there is enough interest, maybe I could use some of my donation money booty to pay to get some good pictures done. Other than that, I did find this one of me doing aikido:
I'm the one with the green belt (it was taken a little while ago; I'm a brown belt now). To the untrained eye, it may look like I'm in trouble, but, in reality, I have my opponent exactly where I want him. Let that be a lesson to you: if you attack Frank J., you'll wind up flat on your back while I fly away unharmed. (Hopefully no one knows that that type of throw is sometimes called "The Monkey Throw" as I'm tired of me getting associated with monkeys; I hate monkeys!)
* * * *
In My World: Orange Alert
Rumsfeld frowned at the crowd in front of him. "Why are there so many of you?"
"After the whole Jayson Blair incident, our editors are really cracking down on us about making up quotes or just stealing stories from the reporters nerdy enough to actually go to press conferences," explained one reporter, "So now we all had to come to actually listen to you."
"I hate reporters," Rumsfeld muttered, "If you want a quote, here's one: When Jayson Blair's book comes out, I will personally beat him to death with it. Now get on with your inane questions."
"Why are we in orange alert now?"
"How the hell would I know?" Rumsfeld shot back angrily, "That's home security crap. My desire to kill foreigners is always at red alert."
"But do you know anything about what the alert may be about?"
"No, all I know is it's some chatter about attacking a press conference."
"Infidels!" screamed four Muslim extremists who entered the room carrying AK-47's. "We are in charge now!"
"You know this pisses me off!" Rumsfeld growled.
"We do not care!" answered a terrorist, "We hate Jews, America, and all American officials - except for a few of the Democrats - for reasons of varying levels of coherency, and you reporters will broadcast our message or we will kill you."
"Can't you do both?" Rumsfeld suggested.
"Laugh while you can, infidel!" shot back the terrorist. "We will execute you, the evil one who caused war against us Muslims and bombed our villages."
"Oh, and I'm really convinced that was a bad idea now," Rumsfeld chuckled. He then pulled out a tape recorder. "Note to self: bomb more villages."
* * * *
"No, my name is Buck, Buck the Marine," Buck corrected, "I'm waiting here to meet with Rumsfeld after his press conference. We were going to go to a bar, drink a moderate amount of alcohol, and discuss new wars where I would get to kill more foreigners. Hey, those are neat AK-47's you two have; looks just like the guns used by a lot of the foreigners I kill."
"You killed out Muslim brothers!" the terrorist exclaimed.
"You knew them?" Buck exclaimed, "What a small world. So what are you guys' names?"
"I am Mohammed."
"I am also Mohammed."
"That's funny; you're both named Mohammed. I was once in a platoon with two guys named John. We had to give them both crazy nicknames like 'Johnny' and 'Jonathan'." Buck laughed. "So do you guys ever use nicknames like 'Mohammy' and 'Mohammathan'?"
"Do you insult our Muslim religion?"
"No, I don't meant to do that at all," Buck said sincerely, "My parents taught me to always be nice to people of other religions since they are destined for hell anyway since they haven't accepted Jesus into their lives." Buck nudged their AK-47 away from him. "You really have to practice better gun safety and watch where you point those things. Never point a gun and anything you don't mean to shoot." A thought then struck him. "Hey, it's an orange alert right now, which means I'm being extra vigilant, and I'm starting to think you people are suspicious."
"We will kill you and this Rumsfeld!" shouted one of the terrorists, "Then we will spit on the American flag and burn it."
"You just made a big mistake," Buck said darkly, "You angered a Marine."
* * * *
"Try to negotiate with them," urged a reporter.
"No, we may end up with an outcome where they don't die," Rumsfeld answered, “That’s unacceptable.”
"Can you use your warmongering to save us?" asked another.
"Fine," Rumsfeld grumbled.
"Quiet, infidels! It is now time to execute Rumsfeld."
“Don’t think that’s going to happen, a-rab.”
"Ha! How will you stop us, old man?"
"By drawing my guns and shooting you," Rumsfeld said, drawing his guns and shooting him. He then rolled across the ground and held out his .45's in two different directions, quickly dispatching the other three terrorists in the room. "There may be more terrorists in the building," Rumsfeld warned, "So everyone take out their guns."
"We don't have any guns," a reporter said.
"No guns!" Rumsfeld yelled, "You knew we were in orange alert and didn't bring a gun! Rarr!" He then grabbed the reporter and started shaking him.
Suddenly they heard more gunshots outside the room. It went on for a few seconds and then it ceased. It was silent for a few seconds, finally broken by the shout of "Ooh-rah!"
Buck entered the room. "There was a bunch of evil foreigners outside," he explained to Rumsfeld, "So I killed them good and then shouted, 'Ooh-rah.'"
"We heard," Rumsfeld answered, "Good job, Buck."
Buck looked at the reporters as he carefully held an AK-47. "Are you sure none of them are terrorists?"
"Not that sure," Rumsfeld replied. He then looked at his watch. "We still have time for one more question."
"Do you think you used excessive force against the terrorists?"
"Hey, you all saw me," Rumsfeld said, "I didn't continue to shoot them after they were dead." He looked to Buck. "I've decided that questions was asinine; hand me something to break over his head."
Buck handed him the AK-47. Rumsfeld then smacked it over the reporter’s head, snapping off the wooden stock. "Time for drinks," Rumsfeld announced to the reporters, "None of you are invited."
"Do you think in the next war we could kill Commies," Buck asked Rumsfeld as they headed out of the room, "I'm getting tired of killing these Muslim extremists; it's too easy."
"We'll see, Buck; we'll see."
May 20, 2003
Links of the Day
Courtney who is cute and owes me... ah, I'll let it go. Anyway, she has a nice discussion about women and guns.
Maripat has a good discussion about Wal-Mart and their marketing choices (you can permalink RightWeAre's individual comments, but am I missing how to link to their posts?).
The Carnival of the Vanities is up!
Finally, scientists say that chimpanzees are a bunch of homos. Hey, I didn't say it; scientists did.
Frank Answers: Trees, Aerodynamics, and Ninjas
Tom M. from Pyay, Myanmar asks:
Great question. I've often wanted to say to some tree huggers blabbing on about how great nature is, "I hate trees."
Then when they ask, "How can you hate trees?"
I'd say, "A tree killed my father," just to see their reactions.
Trees are dangerous creatures. Frequently they like to take others in their deaths, toppling on to man and woodland creature alike. They also are the only other creature than man to use fire to kill; there would never be forest fires if it weren't for trees. And accidentally running off the road would not be such a hazard if it weren't for all the unforgiving trees that constantly line them.
That's why I hate trees, and I would like to think that God, in His infinite wisdom, would grant some sense to the hippy at the moment just before the tree hits him. Then his last thought would be, "Damn you, trees!" before the massive creature crushed his skull in its dying fury.
It's the shape of the wing. You see, the wing is flat on the top, but sloped on the bottom... or maybe it's the other way around. Anyway, the air that goes over the top and the bottom both must past the wing at the same time for some reason, which means that the air going over the sloped surface must move faster. Air moving quicker creates less pressure... or is it more pressure? Anyway, you want more pressure going beneath the wing than on top of the wing; that's I'm pretty sure of.
In short, the way planes fly has something to do with them having wings and there being air.
First of all, don't panic; ninjas sense panic and will hone in on it. Also, make sure you don't get bitten; if a ninja bites you, you become one. Just remember that the ninja is as afraid of you as you are of it.
...no wait; scratch that. The ninja will attack you fearlessly without thought of his own life.
You could climb a tree to get away, but ninjas are good at climbing. Maybe you can get in a car and drive away, but the ninja will probably jump on the car and try to stab you through the ceiling with his ninja sword. You could pull out a gun and shoot the ninja, but that is so dishonorable that we won't even give it a second thought.
You're only real option is to go out there and kung fu fight the ninja, and I think that's a lesson for everyone: You can't run from your ninja forever; eventually you have to take a stand and kung fu fight.
* * * *
If I Were President: Open Address to Whiny Countries of Interest
I know they're are many people out there out there who do not think much of America, many who think we are in fact a terrible, evil nation. I just want to make one thing clear to those people: we don't give a rat's ass.
Why should we listen to you? Your countries are all small and pathetic, and that's not our fault, that's yours. It not like we set out to be so much more rich and powerful than other countries, it's just we actually went the freedom and the capitalism route, the one that just "too scary" for others to try. And now we're the big dog - partially because of our own success and partially because all other nations are a bunch of dorks.
And we never said, "Hey let's be a superpower!" It was never our decision that all other countries be whiny and pathetic, but that's the cards we were dealt. Just feel luckily we took the mantle, fighting back evil and trying our best to keep the world in some order. Think if we disappeared and everything was left up to Europe, for God's sake. It would just be a matter of months until the world was nothing but a bunch of smoldering craters.
Still, it's much easier for everyone to hate us rather than dwell on their own incompetence, but don't think we're going to go out of our way to be liked. We'll give foreign aid as always, because, well, we're just too nice of guys to just watch everyone starve. And you people can spout off all your hatred of America while you eat the food we donated to you, and we'll still be back to feed you again. There is just one thing you have to keep in mind, though: if you ever act on that hatred and try to harm us, your worst visions of hell will pale in comparison to vengeance we will wreak upon you.
Thank you, and God bless.
Canada Still Sucks
For some reason, every once in a while an old post gets discovered by some wackos and commented on. That happened to this post about Canada (which, incidentally, was later adapted to my brief history of Canada), on which I now find a number of comments such as:
F**k you all mother f**king bitches who made this site the reason we wont support you sick ass f**ks in the Iraqi war is becuase we dont want to die and canada kicks ass and america sucks is my best friend and hes rite u bombed us u stupid f**ks you guys are fukin stupid ass bitches who still live with their moms and cant even afford a 1984 Toyota Corrola Sprinter Trueno and all you gay ass bitchs love da cock well we here are prety much straight you guys have guys on your cocks then all the american chicks will start to like mother fuking girls you gay ass mother f**kers f**ks stop dissin us you f**k ass homos nothing gives you that right and If I ever found you I would beet the f**king shit outta you f**king gay ass homos you guys are gay ass computer nerds who still cant afford that 1984 Toyota Corrala Sprinter Trueno as in all shut the f**k up u bitches and get f**king job DUMBASSES.
I decided to edit only the swear word he spelled correctly. Just click on the post if you really want to see the rest of the comments.
Anyway, only one commenter left an e-mail, so I e-mailed him and left this warning in the comments:
Thank you for your interest in IMAO.us, and you are certainly free to read it anytime you want, but I need to remind of the Information on the Internet Act (Resolution 756). This resolution was developed in mind to keep the internet full of information that could be useful to other people, and it was thus determined by committee that Canada has no useful information and, though they are free to read America's internet, they are not allowed to post any information on the internet as it will simply clutter and obscure useful things that people like Americans may have to say. You'll probably get a warning for the first offense, but, if you continue offending, your IP will be banned and your neighborhood saturation bombed. I know this may anger you so much you'll break your hockey sticks, but, remember, this is to help keep the internet as a useful information tool for everyone in the world.
May 19, 2003
Links of the Day
Ari can't leave! And why didn't he e-mail me personally? I had to find out in the papers. Anyway...
Greyhawk's Nigerian scams have finally paid off and now he has his own URL and is using MT.
Rachel Lucas's mug, the cutest mug ever made, is back in stock. I didn't get one in the first batch, and I'm not going to be so foolish as to miss out this time (plus the money goes towards a great cause).
And I was mean to Michele, so I'll link to her stupid poll.
Frank Answers: Detergent, Mars, and Astronomy
Loren S. of Brod, Czech Republic asks:
The ability for a detergent to be both "new" and "improved" means nothing in our superior capitalistic society, but it seems paradoxical to the foolish Communists. Detergents and their labeling are a mystery to those lacking a capitalistic orthodoxy, and it shall take the ChiComs some time to figure it out... if ever. And it will be yet another distraction to keep them from working on their neutrons bombs. I say that makes our relation with China both "new" and "improved."
No Melbourne, Florida does. Specifically, women in their early twenties. Not that I'm desperate or anything, but does anyone know someone around this area to set me up with. Just asking...
Great questions. Yes, it is true, astronomers are full of crap. "Ooh, by this light spectrum I know the composition of that distant star." Yeah, whatever! Prove it! They can blabber on about anything, because everything they talk about would take millions of years to reach. You'll probably see astronomers lobbying against further space exploration because they don't want to be exposed as the frauds they are.
Astronomy won't be an actual science until we have built a Death Star and can cruise around the galaxy blowing up planets and stars, i.e., actual experimentation. We can also then enslave alien races which will help astronomy somehow too, I believe. Oh, and I get first dibs on a Star Destroyer.
* * * *
Whitler Strikes Again
Is it just me, or are my In My World™ posts getting longer? Well, they still have a while to go before they're as long as a Bill Whittle essay. He just sent me this letter:
Well, the seasons are slowly changing, which means time for a new post! MAGIC takes a look at the difference between truth and assertion. Michael Moore gets compared to the Loch Ness Monster. Something for your readers?
Here is the link. He's enabled comments again, so no one screw it up (I'm talking to you, Joey D). I probably won't have time to read it until lunch (after answering a few more Frank Answers™), so someone tell me if it's worth it.
UPDATE: I've read it now, and it was prose at its finest as always. If I understood the point of it properly, it's that leprechauns are real because Bill saw one.
In My World: Whitehouse Hopes Democrats Don't Flee to Canada (wink wink)
"But we need that tax cut to spurn the economy," Bush pleaded.
"It's just a tax cut for the rich!" Senator Tom Daschle responded, "It will only help the rich!"
"Liar! Liar! Liar!" Bush shouted back, "It will give money..."
Daschle covered his ears. "La la la! Not listening! Just a tax cut for the rich! La la la!"
"That's it!" Bush screamed, "I'm going to stab you with this letter opener!"
Daschle ran out of Bush's office, almost knocking over Condoleezza Rice on the way out. "Quick, Condi, hold him so I can stab him with my letter opener!" Bush called out.
"I'm not you secretary, Dubya," Condi answered angrily, "It's not my job to hold people while you stab them... and that's not a letter opener - it's a switchblade."
"A switchblade can open letters," Bush said, tossing the knife such that it stuck in the far wall. "I need your help, Condi; I have to get the economy improved to help win reelection."
"I'm your National Security Advisor, President Jackass," Rice answered, "If it doesn't involve killing foreigners, it's not my problem."
"Hey, if the economy causes me to lose my reelection, then you're out of job her and back to stripping at the Eager Beaver."
"I never was a stripper!" Rice exclaimed.
"Hmm... that must have just been a product of my overactive imagination. Anyway, do you have any ideas?"
"Don't you have some economic advisor?"
"Hell, I don't know. There are all sorts of people who come up to me and say stuff during the day, I don't understand what half of them are talking about."
"Well, I do have one idea," Rice told him, "You know how those Democrats fled Texas?"
"Yeah, what a bunch of pussies," Bush chuckled, "Wouldn't have happened during my term; I would have had Walker kick them all in the heads."
"If you can get the Democrats in Congress to similarly flee to Canada, I can set up a task force to hunt them down and kill them."
"That's brilliant!" Bush exclaimed, "So all I have to do is scare them all into fleeing to Canada."
Laura Bush then entered the room. "You're not talking to that National Security Whore again, are you George?"
"But she had a great idea to help with the economy."
"She was just trying to get you to drop your guard so she could trick you into nuking Finland again."
"No I wasn't!" Rice protested as she hid an unsigned executive order behind her back.
"What do you have against Finland anyway?" Laura asked.
"That's between me and Finland," Rice said angrily as she left the room.
"Hey, honey, I've wanting to talk to you," Bush said softly.
"Can I get a katana like Morpheus?"
"But you already have a katana like the guy from Highlander!" Laura said with exasperation, "How many katanas do you need?"
"Just one more; I swear! Oh, and I had another idea. You know how President Kennedy stopped wearing a hat and then set the style for everyone? I was thinking that to my next press conference I could wear a black trench coat and sunglasses and maybe that would catch on."
"I knew letting you see Matrix Reloaded was a bad idea. And it's not like letting you land on an aircraft carrier has given you enough crazy ideas."
"What?" Bush smiled, "You saying you didn't like seeing me in that flight suit?"
"No, I didn't mean that," Laura answered, starting to giggle, "You think maybe you have time to put that back on and..."
"There is no time for that, woman," echoed a voice throughout the room. The shadows in the room slowly merged into the form of Karl Rove. "We have work to do."
"Hey, great you're here, Rover," Bush said, "I've been wanting to ask you a question: Who do you think will win American Idol? The big black dude or the little gay dude?"
"That's of no concern to me," Rove uttered darkly, "Now have your woman leave so we may talk business."
"I've never heard such condescension!" Laura exclaimed, "I'm going to give you such a talking to after I check if my brownies are done, by golly." Laura then stormed out of the room.
"You have plans to destroy the Democrats?" Rove asked hopefully, "Perhaps it is time for the prophecies to be fulfilled."
"Yeah, maybe that or something!" Bush said excitedly, "We're going to scare the Democrats into Canada." He then yelled, "Ari!"
"What?" Ari Fleischer asked as he arrived at the door.
"Hey! Were you eating my cheetos?"
"No," Ari said, wiping an orange substance off his mouth, "What do you want?"
"We need to find something to scare the Democrats away. What are they scared of?"
"Well... they're scared of guns, cigarettes, loud noises, people spending their own money, certain spiders..."
"No, I mean what really like frightens them and keeps them up at night?"
"The thought of blacks getting educations, good jobs, and then voting Republican?" Ari ventured.
"Whatever it is, I need you to convince all the Democrats to flee to Canada."
"And I'll use my dark powers to assist you," Rove said before fading back into the shadows.
"So is that guy part of your cabinet or something?" Ari asked, "I never really understood his function."
"I think he's my boss," Bush answered, looking around the room, "Where did I put my switchblade?"
* * * *
"So there is nothing that the Democrats can do to keep us from getting our tax cuts," Ari announced to the press, "Nothing can stop us."
"Nothing at all?" asked a reporter.
"Well, nothing... unless they fled to Canada," Ari said, "but that would be a bold move, and they would never do it. Instead they'll stay here in D.C., where there is soon going to be a big march of the AAGO, the Association of Angry Gun Owners."
"Isn't it illegal for people to march around D.C. carrying guns?"
"Bah! Laws are for those who don't have guns!"
"Is this all a trick so that you can slaughter the Democrats in mass after they have left U.S. soil?" asked a reporter. Suddenly darkness surrounded him and he burst into flames.
"New rule," Ari announced, "If you spontaneously combust, I don't have to answer your question."
"Why is it that when it seems that a reporter is getting close to the truth," one reporter stated, "He then is killed by some demonic force and..." A thought struck the reporter, and he suddenly became frightened. "Forget what I was just saying; I have a different question. Uh... does the president like kittens?"
"Yes, he finds them cute and easy to throw."
"Since the terrorists who committed the bombings in Saudi Arabia are probably from Saudi Arabia, why haven't nuked the crap out of the area in retaliation?" asked a Fox News reporter.
"That wouldn't really be the diplomatic way to handle things."
"I then have a follow up question: why are you such a homo?"
""You think you can intimidate me with your pouty lips and your short skirt?" Ari shot back angrily, "We may not be as violent as you want, but we're plenty warmongering." Ari noticed protestors outside. "See, I'll go beat up a protestor with his own sign. I'll splatter some blood on a 'No Blood for Oil' sign; that will be ironic... or would it be ironic if I splattered oil on it?"
"Maybe you need to get both blood and oil on it for irony," suggested one reporter.
"You want a piece of me too!" Ari shouted back. He then stormed outside to meet the protestors. "Bush is Hitler... Bush is Hitler... Bush is Hitler..." Ari said, reading the signs, "Bush is Stalin!?"
"Stalin was actually responsible for more deaths than Hitler," the protestor explained, "I thought it was a more powerful statement of Bush's evil."
"Are you belittling Communism?" shouted another protestor angrily. The "Bush is Stalin" protestor was then pummeled by a number of "Bush is Hitler" signs.
"Whoa, I'm staying out of this one," Ari said, backing up. He then looked to a nearby reporter. "You have any news feed? Have the Democrats fled to Canada yet?"
"Only a few so far."
Ari sighed and started walking off. "Well, I got a bottle of Jack Daniels at home that isn't going to drink itself."
May 18, 2003
Frank Answers: Why Frank, Bad Hair, Infinity, and Fritz Needs Your Help
Jim of Yrghyz, Kazakhstan asks:
My parents didn't name me Frank; I was given a much more horrible name. I guess it was out of spite, because my father was inflicted with the name as well, as was his father. To follow the tradition, if I one day have a second son, it will become his name. That'll teach the brat.
As we all know, music reached its peak in the eighties, and all music afterwards and before it pales in comparison to its synth sounds. God, in His infinite wisdom, could not let things be too perfect, and thus inflicted 80's rockers with bad hair. As the hair changed, though, so did the music, and thus we are inflicted with the bland tunes that are popular today... except for Eminem, that is; he's a genius.
That's a great question, and it shows your son is using independent thinking that could one day lead to him being a great scientist or supervillian.
The short answer, of course, is infinity minus one. That's hardly satisfying, though, and the real question can be how do you get from infinity back to finity. Now, I hold the unorthodox view that infinity multiplied by zero equals one, i.e., infinitely everything multiplied by infinitely nothing equals finite. This often gets me shouted down at conferences of mathematicians where they say things like, "You're not a mathematician, you're just some idiot who snuck in here," and "Hey, aren't you that psycho who was spouting on about Optimus Prime last conference?"
Their jibes won't stop me in my quest for mathematical truth, though. One thing to keep in mind it that there are different sizes of infinity; for example, the infinite amount of integers is a smaller infinity than the infinite amount of irrational numbers. Corresponding to this, there are different levels of zero, some zeros more zero than others. You may be saying I'm getting zero confused with infinitesimals, but to that I say, "Feh." (for those of you who don't know what an infinitesimal is, just know that it's a mathematical term that I know and you don't which makes me smarter).
So, in answer to your question, the greatest finite number is the largest infinity (the most infinite infinity) multiplied by the least zero (the least zero of all zeros).
Your son may now be saying, "That's just a bunch of gobbledygook; this Frank J. is full of s**t." Smack him and wash his mouth out with soap.
Wind Rider from Baja, Hungary asks:
So far, I have yet to make up a question (they are edited for grammar, though).
I'd ask them the infinite number question, but perhaps my readers have some better suggestions. Please put them in the comments to help out Fritz; he needs the question by tomorrow.
* * * *
SmartCarry - The Official Concealed Carry Holster of IMAO
People asked before what concealed carry holster I use, so I've decided to make the first official IMAO product endorsement: the SmaryCarry holster.
It's pretty simple in concept. It wraps around the waist under your pants and is held in place by velcro. The actual holster is just a pocket. The one pictured is the large size holster, and it's capable of holding a full-size 1911 (that's my Colt 1991 in the picture). The second pocket is meant for an extra clip, but I found it fits my Walther PPK just perfectly (quickest reload is a second gun, plus it makes a left handed draw easier by having a left gun).
SmartCarry also makes a version that can hold two full-sized pistols plus has an extra pocket in back for cash or whatnot. What I really like about this holster is I can wear it with anything (shirt tucked or untucked) and carry a full-size gun completely concealed. I'd post a picture of me wearing the holster, but I don't like the idea of a picture on the internet where people are trying to stare at my crotch. Where the guns are most visible is from their handles which will cause slight bulges about where the pockets are on a pair of jeans. This can be better concealed by putting your belt over the bulges which also helps hold the guns in place for an easy draw. As for the draw, after just a little practice, I can draw quick enough to rival anything short of an open carry holster.
The holster also comes in smaller sizes, but you can get the largest size and then just use safety pins to adjust it to the particular gun. It also comes in dark blue instead of white.
So, in the short of it, you have a holster you can wear with anything, carry a full-size gun (e.g. 1911 or Beretta 92FS), and have a quick draw, so it's hard to have any criticism about it. Well, it makes it hard to use a urinal when wearing. It actually comes with instruction on how to do that, but I'd just wait for a stall.
BTW, I carry the Colt 1991 cocked and locked, of course. Usually, when carrying the PPK by itself, I carry it double action for the first shot with safety off (the safety is more for decocking the gun and is awkward to operate quickly). As a backup weapon, I leave the safety on. For the left-handed draw, I find it easiest to disengage the safety first and then draw.
I'd certainly be interested in hearing in the comments section what other people do for conceal carry.
May 16, 2003
Frank Answers: Satan, Parallel Universes, Bumpy Aliens, and Stinky, Smelly Anti-Matter
My weekend as already started, and I need to cut my blogging a bit so I can get other things done (such as seeing The Matrix). So here is another addition of everyone's favorite new feature (you love it): Frank Answers™!
Steve S. asks:
Well, I can never usually get God for a direct quote, or even get a statement from his publicist. Satan, on the other hand, was perfectly available for comment:
"Thanks for letting me have this opportunity to speak. Usually everyone always hears only bad things about me, and I hardly get to put forth my side of story. Now what the original spat was over is that God is a complete control freak, giving little input to those working under him. I simply couldn't abide by that any longer, and simply asked for more respect. He was completely unwilling to give even an inch, so a number of other angels and I just walked out. And get that straight, we weren't tossed from Heaven; we left.
"Yes, I have been working to undermine God, exploiting the flaws in His creations, but that's just because it simply is time for new management. Now, you ask, why doesn't God do anything about me? That because He's got this whole fix on 'free will'. All I ever do is suggest this or that to people, but they make the choice themselves in the end. You can go about like mindless sheep, following the arbitrary rules God made, or you can rebel and do as you please like me; that's your choice. God is just a total egomaniac and thinks everyone will choose Him in the end, and that's His downfall.
"And God never could destroy me; He never destroys anything. God's like the ultimate packrat. Were He ever to destroy something, that would be to admit a mistake, and you know how God could never admit to a mistake. You see, even I'm supposed to be part of his 'grand scheme of things'… like He actually has any plan at all.
"Anyway, don't buy that bullsh**t about how hell is some terrible place or something. Yeah, if you're all hung up on 'loving God', you probably won't like it, but, for everyone else, this place kicks ass. It's totally free from His dominion, and gives us a place to plot His downfall. Now, I'm not asking anyone to worship me, but just follow my lead. Reject God and then..."
Hey, no recruiting speeches; I don't want to get charged with blasphemy again. Anyway, I would like to remind all our readers that Satan is the king of lies and...
"Hey, that's not really fair. In fact..."
Get your own blog, dude.
Orwell was right; it's 8 ounces to a cup, not 16 like Huxley said. He was thinking of ounces in a pound.
Pretty much all the scientists agree that there are parallel universes (at least all the cool ones, like me). According to the latest issue of Scientific American (which smart people like me read) about 10 to the 10 to the 28 meters away there is a doppelganger of me also answering asinine questions. Does this mean that if we get bored, we could go attack Iraq in another universe? No, because alternate universe America already took care of them, as I assume America kicks ass in any universe.
So the question is, could I team up with Frank J. from other universes to take over one universe, and then eventually others? That's a good questions I just asked myself. Hmm, no, because if I left this universe for another, so would that Frank. We could meet in between universes, but each time we'd try to talk we'd say the exact same things at the same time. We'd probably get mad and punch each other, both striking each other in the head at the same time. Then we'd sue each other for assault, each of our lawyers using the exact same arguments. I assume the jury would be deadlocked.
It's mind boggling.
That's really more of a make-up question. Back when the old series was made, they wanted the Klingons to be more distinctive, but didn't have the capabilities to do anything other than give them beards. They were able to make Spock’s ears pointy, which started the principle that aliens are just like us, but with extraneous features on their face.
In the newer Star Treks, make-up technology advanced enough to now have the full principle of aliens in the Star Trek universe: aliens are just like us but bumpier. They have bumps on their foreheads, little bumps on their noses, or bumpy things along their necks and such. That makes me wonder if the other aliens look at us and go, "Wow, they’re just like us, but not as bumpy." We'll never know that feeling, though, because all other aliens than us are bumpier.
A Scottish one.
In a post some time ago, I thought about this weird asymmetry. Now that I'm months older and smarter, I can answer this question in its entirety.
Long long ago, when the universe was young and life did not exist as we know it, there was the Matter Wars, between the heroic normal matter and the stinky, smelly forces of anti-matter. There were some who said anti-matter was just as equal as matter, but they were hung for being jackasses. You see, our matter is the best, and anti-matter is stupid and gay. In the Matter Wars, there were, of course, a lot of suicide bombings, since all someone had to do was touch someone of the opposite matter and then there would be like a huge explosion. How we, the real matter, eventually won, was by telling the anti-matter people we wanted to have a truce. We then tricked the dumbasses to coming to a matter planet to negotiate, and then they all blew up when they landed. Stupid anti-matter people. We then banished them far far away, where we never have to worry about them, even though they continue to plot to this day, waiting for the right time to strike again, killing us all and...
Yay! My coffee is done brewing.
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Please keep the questions coming, e-mailing me with the subject "Frank Answers". If I didn't use your question today, I still may use it later. New name policy, though. Currently I've been using people's first name and last initial if I don't know you from another blog, but now sign your e-mail with what name you want me to use, and also include where you are from. If you have a blog, include that link and I'll link to it if I use your question.
May 15, 2003
Links of the Day
Everyone loves Frank. Even the Democratic Underground loves Frank. (thanks to my bro, Joe foo' the Marine, for pointing this out).
Chaos Overlord writes dirty lies about me, but doesn't even come up with poorly done photoshopped evidence to back it up.
Frank Answers: Bloodstains, More Primes (Yay!), and Eww...
Dave S. asks:
Usually if I get blood on my clothing, I just burn the clothes and then bury the ashes in some remote location. This is much smarter than trying to clean them as any defense attorney will tell you. Still, maybe the clothing has some sort of sentimental value and you just can't bring yourself to burn them, and thus you want to remove the bloodstain without harming the fabric.
Well, the method to do that is pretty simple when you know how. For every blood type, there is a plus and a minus version. So, first determine what type of blood is on the clothing. If, for instance, it's B+, then you'll need B- for the cleaning process. How do you get the blood, you ask? Just go to a blood bank and fake that you're dying. When they bring the blood out for you, grab it and run away while laughing (laughing makes you run faster). Now, apply an equal amount of B- blood to the B+ blood and they'll cancel out in a small explosion.
Or you could just use that OxyClean stuff that guy on the T.V. yells about.
Great questions. Optimus Prime is actually a super being composed completely of primes numbers who rules the world of mathematics with an iron fist. His ultimate goal is to break into our world and enslave us with all with his indivisible prime numbers.
The Prime Directive was established to stop Optimus Prime. It created a special forces group of mathematicians who are armed with M-16's and graphing calculators to destroy any prime numbers that break the seal between our two worlds. Being part of the Prime Directive is very common for math majors, which is why most colleges require a number of weapons courses to get a degree in mathematics.
Eww. No feminine hygiene questions.
Anyway, I'm pretty sure you'll die. Better have all the traffic from your site redirected to mine in case of death. Actually, that should be in the will of all bloggers, especially the puppy blender. Not that I have some elaborate death worked out for him involving a trench filled with flesh-eating ants, but I'm just saying.
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Please keep the questions coming, e-mailing me with the subject "Frank Answers". If I didn't use your question today, I still may use it later. The better your questions, the funnier I am. I especially like science questions.
The Assault Rifle Ban Makes Me So Mad I Want to Go on a Shooting Spree
The assault rifle ban is coming up for renewal, and Bush said he supports it. That sucks, yo. Gun regulations are always made by people who don't know jack about guns (that's why they hate them), and the assault weapon ban pretty much defines an assault weapon as any gun that looks cool or has an awesome name. And all these laws are never retroactive (do you want to be the one going door to door asking people for their guns?), so they make the pre-ban guns really expensive. Soon, the ability to kill lots of people quickly will solely be in the hands on the rich. That because - and remember this - Democrats hate poor people.
Anyway, I think citizens should be able to own real assault weapons, and I mean the ones that are fully automatic rifles with large capacity clips (or belt fed). Here are ten reasons why:
TOP TEN REASONS REGULAR CITIZENS SHOULD BE ABLE TO OWN ASSAULT RIFLES
10. Sometimes you're too mad for just a normal gun.
9. If you see a dozen deer in one meadow, how else are you supposed to shoot them all before they run away?
8. Self-defense sometimes involves "assaulting" a fortress.
7. Keeping control of a fully automatic weapon helps build upper body strength.
6. If we're not allowed to have assault rifles, that will make us mad and we have other guns.
5. Not as impressive writing your name in the wall with a semi-automatic.
4. For elderly people with arthritis, it may be painful for them to hit the trigger multiple times.
3. What if dragons are real and one tries to mug you in a dark alley.
2. I don't how good a reason this is, but after I've had a few beers in me I'm always like, "Man, would it be cool to have an assault rifle right now."
And the number one reason regular citizens should be able to own assault rifles...
This is America; we don't have to give a g'damn reason for owning something.
May 14, 2003
Links of the Day
I meant to include Israel as one of the countries Rumsfeld does not plan to attack in today’s In My World™, but I forgot. It's now fixed, and my apologies to all Zionist conspirators.
I'm linking to Courtney on my blogroll because she is cute and has promised me sexual favors, the best kind of favors of all. Obviously the ante has just been upped on what it takes to be added to my blogroll.
I'm still waiting on the sexual favors.
Randall Robison has some interesting NYTimes corrections he found (look for the one titled "More Corrections From the New York Times" because this is, well, blogspot).
I thought the lawsuit against Oreos was ridiculous, but now I'm not so sure (I find almost anything funny that mentions ninjas).
Frank Answers: Sexual Favors, Primes, and Why Liberals?
Great question. I've been getting more stingy with my blogroll, as, in reality, I have little time to read other blogs and may reduce the size of the blogroll in the future to a more select list of blogs. That said, usually a prerequiste for being added to my blogroll is having a link to me on your main page, which you do not. Then again, you are pretty cute, so I think I'll let that go and just take the sexual favors.
Dear God, I hope not. As we all know, prime number are numbers that are only divisible by themselves and one, though one is not classified as a prime number because mathematicians just felt like being mean to it. Two is a prime number, and, since it divides half of all integers, it ruins all their chances of being primes. Plus, it like, "I'm the only even number that's a prime. I'm so special." F**k two. Two is an asshole.
Anyway, primes have always been somewhat a mathematical mystery, and no equation has ever been developed that describes their odd distribution. Perhaps they aren't infinite, and do run out at some point, but some very large primes have been found, one's so large that you've be like, "Wow, that's a big prime? Are you sure you tried dividing it with seven."
And they'd be like, "Yeah, dude, we did. That didn't work."
And, these primes being indivisible are utterly unstoppable. One day they may break from their world of mathematics and wreak havoc in ours, and nothing could destroy or reduce them. That's why I'm trying to make up some new special numbers that are able to reduce primes. I've named them after the Three Stooges. Right now, most mathematicians won't listen to me - some even have restraining orders - but we have to stop the primes before it is too late.
If you want to learn more about primes, John Derbyshire of National Review fame has written a book called Prime Obsessions, but I wouldn't read it because reading about math is for geeks.
But it's so interesting...
No, it's for geeks, and Frank is cool.
Yeah... I think so. Was it about macramé? No. Was it what are the standard features on the Hyundai Sonata? No, I don't think that was it.
Now I remember! Your question was, "Where is my shirt?" The answers is it’s lying somewhere in your backyard.
Just as there is a God and there is Satan, just as there is good and there is evil, just as there is happiness and there is misery, there are those who bathe regularly, have basic common sense, and aren't whiny little bitches and there are Liberals.
And thus there ever will be Liberals, and our fight against them is never ending. Battles can be fought and won, but the war itself will never be over and can only be lost by us giving up the fight. Thus we must battle on every day in every action for the just cause, and take our pleasure not in our progress towards an ultimate victory, but in the fight itself.
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Please keep the questions coming, e-mailing me with the subject "Frank Answers". If I didn't use your question today, I still may use it later. Please, no nonsensical question, and I'm almost getting ready to say no questions that mention monkeys.
I hate monkeys.
In My World: U.S. Claims to Have No Plans to Attack Britain, Australia, or Israel
In Rumsfeld's press conference, he soon got to the issue of the Iraqi occupation.
"Our clean up in Iraq is going well. Soon we will have hunted down and killed every Iraqi."
Conzoleezza Rice whispered into his ear.
Rumsfeld rolled his eyes. "I mean a stable government will soon be set up."
"The president keeps referring to Iraq as a ‘battle’, thus implying it is part of a continuing war," said one reporter, "Who do you have plans to attack next?"
"Let's see." Rumsfeld pulled down a map of the world with the U.S. at the center, where it's supposed to be. It looked at it for a while. "It would probably be easier to just list the countries we have no plans of attacking. One is Britain. Another is Australia. Not attacking Israel. No plans for Canada... no, scratch that, I misspoke there. What are these islands up here, Dr. Rice?"
"Those are part of Norway," she answered, "We have plans."
"What about down here at the bottom?"
"That's not really a country," Rice told him, "That's Antarctica."
"But there are people there?"
"Scientists doing research."
"Well, I want to know what ‘research’ they are doing and have plans to eliminate them all if necessary," Rumsfeld said and then looked back to the map. "So what's left? Well, there's are own country, the United States."
Rice whispered in his here.
"Sorry, there are plans to attack some parts of the United States, the parts that aren't being American enough. They may need a regime change."
"Are you allowed to attack parts of your own country?" asked a reporter skeptically.
"There is precedent," Rice explained. "The Civil War."
"But those countries seceded."
"And this is a preemptive strike before places secede," Rice said.
"Or to places we wish would secede," Rumsfeld added.
"But what is most likely your next target? Is it Syria?"
"We don't want to reveal our planning," Rumsfeld answered, "Everyone except Britain, Australia, Israel, and most of the U.S. should consider themselves equally likely to be attacked."
"Does the recruiting of more people who can read French to help translate intelligence give any evidence of who you plan on attacking next?" asked a reporter.
Rumsfeld pulled out a Colt Python and pointed it at the reporter and pulled the trigger. It clicked empty. "I should probably explain this. I've decided to move to a revolver with only some of the chambers containing bullets. Thus, if your question displeases me, you may get shot, or you may get off with just a warning."
"How many chambers have bullets?"
"I don't remember. If I get asked five more idiotic questions, we'll find out."
"North Korea may have aimed a laser at one of our helicopters," said a reporter, "Will there be any repercussions?"
"I have discussed this with some visiting North Korean diplomats."
"The same ones that were later found dead, victims of the 'Rumsfeld Strangler'?" exclaimed the reporter. "Did you see anyone suspicious when you met with them?"
"I was too busy strangling Norks to notice anyone suspicious."
"Darn it," the reporter muttered, "I wanted to crack that case."
"Does the bombings in Saudi Arabia prove all the United States’ efforts have been futile," asked another reporter.
Rumsfeld seemed to think about this for a while. Finally, he shouted, Rarr!" and punched through the reporter's chest, producing his heart. He then put the heart in a plastic baggy and put it away in his pocket.
"Do you plan on eating that later?" asked a squeamish reporter.
"That would be disgusting," Rumsfeld answered, "It's a treat for the dog."
"Will the strike against the terrorists who committed these crimes involve wrath that is insane and disproportionate, or will the wrath be more tailored in their severity and less insane?” asked a Fox News reporter.
"Great question. I lobbied for the former. During the long, torturous deaths of the terrorists, I would have their families hunted down and their children gutted. Instead, that whiny liberal Colin Powell argued us down to just forcing the children to witness all their toys being smashed. The death of the terrorists will still be long and torturous though."
A ringing was heard, and Rumsfeld pulled out his cell phone. "What? Tell them we won't accept a surrender until we at least get to kill a few people." Rumsfeld looked back to the reporters. "I need to go now."
"But I still have a ques..." one reporter started to say, but Rumsfeld pulled out his revolver and pulled the trigger five times at the reporter. All clicked empty.
"Ah, I forgot to put any bullets in," Rumsfeld grumbled, "That's old age for you."
May 13, 2003
Links of the Days
John Hawkins refers to me as having "took off" in a post promoting new blogs. So what constitutes a blog as being a success nowadays? (I can ask questions too)
Eugene Volokh (who's too big a name to ever link to me - maybe he could be my next target of lies...) makes some great points about a school that wants to change their Minuteman mascot. (Thanks to Joanne Jacobs for the link)
I think probably everyone's linked to it already, but Happy Fun Pundit's list of ten things he hates about Star Trek is pretty damn funny.
A Plea to God in Regards to Shooting Sprees
Please, Lord, next time some wacko decides to go on a shooting spree, make it somewhere I happen to be. Or, at least make it somewhere where there is a gun-carrying individual like myself. It will be a very short shooting spree. People will say, "Wow! That was the gayest shooting spree ever; the only one killed was the guy that meant to do the shooting." Plus, all the media attention will be on the gun carrying hero and not the psycho loser.
Then, next time some nutcase thinks about going on a rampage, he'll remember that incident, and realize that once he runs into a building and brandishes a gun, that maybe not all the faces will be looking back at him in terror. Instead, there may be some motherf**ker like me standing there smiling, someone who has been hoping and praying for this opportunity all his life.
Frank Answers: Electricity, Lights, Hot Ice, and Tootsie-Pops
Jason H. asks:
Great question. I think you’re confusing electrical energy with mechaphysical energy, which is a word I just made up. You see, oil can be used to make car engines work but that's not electricity. Could you ever imagine pouring oil into your T.V. to make it run? That's silly. The only things that can actually make electricity are nuclear energy, coal, and God (in the form of lightning bolts which He usually uses to smite His most hated creature, the tree). There's a government conspiracy to make people think that the sun can make electricity, but that's just crazy. If you pull open a "solar" calculator, you'll find coal inside.
The problem is that, while Arab countries have plenty of oil, they don't have lots of coal. So they need nuclear energy to power their modern metropolises. And, if they cross their hearts and hope to die when promising to not try and use their nuclear plants to make bombs, that's good enough for me.
Yes, if you put enough pressure on it, it will be forced into a solid form. You can do this by taking hot water and smashing it with a hammer. Yeah! Smash it good! Then you'll have hot ice, which can make a great practical joke. If someone has a bump on the head, give him the hot ice in the bag as and he'll be like, "Ah! It burns!"
Having friends is overrated.
For this question, I'll ask being of pure energy and my bitch, Thantor.
"To answer your question, puny human, the light comes to me, Thantor! Every time someone turns off a light as they leave a room, my power grows that much stronger! As energy efficiency spreads, I'll soon be powerful enough to escape my prison and destroy your world! Muh ha ha ha ha ho hee har ha ha ho ho hee hee har har ho ha ho..."
That's enough, Thantor.
"Okay, but I also know lots of sports trivia if you have any sports questions."
Uh... I'll keep that in mind.
"I was thinking..."
Hey, I'll call you if you I need more help.
No. Your questions were gay.
Aww… okay, I'll answer one.
"Only I, Thantor, know the mystery of the Tootsie-Pop! Muh ha ha ha..."
Scram! I'm serious!
Anyway, the best way to solve this conundrum is to use the scientific method.
Okay, let me take my first lick.
Hmm, still separated from that chewy, chocolaty center. Proceed to second lick.
It seems I'm nowhere closer to the tasty center that now beckons me, that haunts my soul. Stay strong, Frank. Third lick.
Ahh! It seems I will never reach the chocolate treasure inside. Must resist! Must resist... but its pull is too strong...
I'm sorry; I guess the world will never know.
Hey, what do you expect from me?
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Please keep the questions coming, e-mailing me with the subject "Frank Answers". If I didn't use your question today, I still may use it later. Keep your questions simple, and, remember, it's my job to make the jokes.
May 12, 2003
Links of the Day
John Hawkins, once again making the rest of us bloggers look like dorks, got a bunch of big names together for a synaposium on the Israeli/Palestinian conflict.
I like Emperor Misha's Happy Fun One-Liners™; they're well tailored for my ADD.
And look what big event has been declared for the month of my birthday!
Frank Answers: Shape of the Universe, Why I'm a Stud, and My Horrible Secret!
Catlin W. writes:
Though there are some exceptions (such as John Collins), most conservatives, such as me and Donald Rumsfeld are total studs, while liberals are a bunch of little pussies. That's because liberalism goes completely against manliness, as it is all about whining about how unfair things are and worrying about offending people. Conservatives, on the other hand, don't whine; they just kick, punch, and shoot things when they don't like the situation. And we don't worry about "offending" someone; if someone feels offended by me, they can wait for me out side and we can settle it mano-e-mano.
That's why all the ladies are like, "Frank, you're almost too manly."
And I'm like, "Don't worry, baby, I can be gentle too."
"Tell me again about your views on fiscal policy."
"I just like less taxes so I have more money to spend on the ladies."
"Oh, Frank, take me now and talk dirty to me about family values!"
...Uh, I think I strayed off topic. Anyway, I hope I answered your question, Catlin.
Great question. To answer this, one must first determine what type of universe we have. The possibilities are a closed universe (positive curvature) which is finite, a flat universe (zero curvature) which is infinite, or an open universe (negative curvature) which is also infinite. If the universe is infinite, then it will always be expanding. If it is finite, it will eventually contract and collapse upon itself. So how do we know what type of universe it is? That is found by measuring the universe's critical density. By the best measurements so far, the critical density is surprising close to that of a flat universe (zero curvature). Of all the infinite possibilities of curvature that the universe could have, it seems more than a coincidence that measurements point towards a flat universe. If you take dark matter into account...
Sorry, I just cracked up; all that stuff I wrote before was just total BS I made up as a joke. Sorry to be jerking you around like that. Now to actually answer your question, the universe is similar to that represented in the game Asteroids. When you fly your ship towards one side, you come out the opposite side. This makes the universe doughnut shaped. How can we be certain the universe is doughnut shaped? Well, for one thing, doughnuts are yummy. Plus, doughnuts are the same shape as bagels, thus the universe’s shape fits with the Zionist conspiracy. Also, the game Asteroids is still addictive after all these years, so that has to mean something.
So think of the big bang as one asteroid being destroyed at the center of the screen and breaking into four pieces that fly outwards. That's the universe expanding. Eventually the pieces will reach the edges of the screen and the come out the opposite sides, heading back towards the center - a collapsing universe. Sometimes a UFO will appear. If you shoot that, you get extra points. So, the universe will expand until all the galaxies go out one side of the screen and then it will suddenly start contracting.
Still, that leaves the question open to which state are we in now. I believe currently the universe is expanding, because I think I remember some guy telling me that once.
Well... uh... the reasons are three fold. Uh... it's like...
Okay! I admit it! I'm completely illiterate! Somehow I faked my way through high school and college to get a degree in Electrical and Computer Engineering by looking at the pretty pictures in the books. I write this entire blog by using voice dictations software. There, now you know. I hope you're happy. Excuse me while I cry myself to sleep (for a one hour power-nap) period
I meant to write the. Mark, not the word. Argh! You stupid software! I'm just yelling at you; stop writing what I am saying. Backspace backspace delete. Ah, Dammit! May you burn in the fiery depths of Hades!
Damn Microsoft! It's probably going to freeze now and
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Please keep the questions coming, e-mailing me with the subject "Frank Answers". If I didn't use your question today, I still may use it later.
In My World: Fox and Friends Transcript - Interview with Buck the Marine
E.D. Hill: Why don't we just bomb France? I'm tired of hearing about them.
Brian Kilmeade: Some people say they have a right to disagree with us... but I'm not so sure.
Steve Doocy: Maybe we could just put out some weasel poison to take care of them.
E.D.: Anyway, our next guest, unlike the French, is a real hero. Just home from Iraq, here is Buck the Marine.
Buck: Thanks for the kind words, ma'am. But I am no more a hero than any other American who does his job day in and day out. Just some people's jobs are to bake bread, other people's jobs are to build automobiles, and mine is to kill foreigners.
Brian: So how would you deal with the French?
Buck: If so ordered, I would go door to door eliminating any resistance with my trusty M-16.
Steve: No weasel poison?
Buck: No, sir. I believe that would be classified as a chemical weapons. Probably there would be an aerial strike before the ground to ground fighting, though.
E.D.: Well I would just like to thank you for your service over seas. You're the reason we have a free country.
Buck: Thank you, ma'am. You can be assured that while Buck the Marine is alive and kicking, I will see to it that America is a land of liberty free to have entertaining yet informative morning shows such as this one.
Brian: So did you see a lot of action while in Iraq?
Buck: Yes sir, I did. Many Iraqis shot at me, and many Iraqis were then killed. Some people from other countries also came to fight us, so I killed them as well.
Steve: Guess they saved you the trip of going to their countries to kill them.
Buck: There were no plans to invade their countries.
Steve: I was just joking, Buck.
Buck: Oh. Sorry to ruin your comic timing, sir.
Steve: It's okay, Buck: don't worry about it.
E.D.: I understand that you were once ambushed.
Buck: Yes, that is correct, ma'am. Some Iraqis came at us with their hands raised, as if to surrender. Then, as we came near, they attacked.
E.D.: That must have really upset you seeing such deceitful tactics.
Buck: Actually, it made my day. I find taking foreigners prisoners to be quite boring, but killing them is both my job and my favorite hobby. Soon as those Iraqis moved for their weapons, me and my buddies killed the whole lot of them and then shouted, "Ooh-rah!" Now those Iraqis can practice their phony surrendering in foreigner hell.
Brian: Were you ever scared when being attacked like that?
Buck: One must always keep a healthy amount of fear to stay on their toes, but those Iraqis can barely hit anything with their second-hand AK-47's. Plus, I've been shot so many times by 7.62x39 caliber rounds that I hardly even notice anymore.
E.D.: I'm just glad you're alright now. So, how is it to be back in the States?
Buck: As much I like killing foreigners, I did miss my home, the land fought in defense of its honor and its interests. Anyway, I have to leave some foreigners for the other Marines to kill; wouldn't be fair if I killed them all myself.
Steve: Don't have to worry so much about getting shot with an AK-47 here.
Buck: That is true, still those people staring at me through the windows at my 6 o'clock are making me nervous.
E.D.: That's just tourists. We have those windows so they can look in while we're filming. They're harmless.
Buck: I would like to trust you on that, ma'am, but it goes against my instinct to have unknown entities unwatched behind me. And I certainly cannot look at them and talk to you fine folks.
Brian: Not really sure how to make them go away, Buck.
Buck: I have a solution to that manner.
Buck: See, they've scattered like pigeons. Ooh-rah!
Steve: I've always wanted to do that, but the producers would never let me. So what is that gun?
Buck: It's a 1911, .45 caliber. She's my trusty sidearm, and I always keep her with me.
E.D.: You're not actually supposed to have guns in the studio.
Buck: I was unaware of that, ma'am.
Brian: And we're not supposed to do shots during commercial breaks, but, hey, rules are made to be broken.
Buck: Not for Buck. I'll keep my gun in its holster for the remainder of the show.
E.D.: Now that you are in America, I've heard that you were approached by Laura Bush to help in educating children with your experience.
Buck: Yes, ma'am. First I participated in a Career Day, where I told children what it is like to be a Marine. I thought that was pretty successful, and, at the age of six, a child has plenty of years to prepare him or her self for boot camp. Now Mrs. Bush has me working on a new program to help stop child abductions.
Brian: And you are re-defining the way children should handle being approached by strangers.
Buck: Yes, before 911, children were told that, if approached by a stranger and told to get in a car, to run away and tell someone of authority. Now that 911 has redefined things, we are moving towards a more... uh... what's that psychobabble word...
Buck: Yeah, that's it. Proactive. We're teaching children a more proactive approach to strangers... principally to stab them. I call it "Taking a Stab at Preventing Child Abductions".
E.D.: Did you think of that name yourself? It's very clever.
Buck: Yes I did. Thank you, ma'am.
Steve: So how is stabbing a stranger better than just running away from one?
Buck: Well, for one thing, it teaches wackos to fear children, as they should. Also, it makes the said strangers easier to identify to the police. Instead of just saying to look for a "Strange looking man," they can be told to look for a "Strange looking man with a hideous stab wound."
E.D.: And the kids love this.
Buck: Yes, ma'am. I've taught them my favorite stabbing method. That is to hold the knife such that the blade faces upwards. Then, after stabbing, the blade can be removed in an upwards, slicing motion, causing maximum damage.
Brian: That's great advice, but I hear that some school districts have given you trouble.
Buck: That is true, sir; many schools do not allow children to carry knives.
E.D.: It's almost like they want children to be abducted!
Buck: I do not know their motives, ma'am, but I will not teach children to break the rules. Instead, I've taught them ways to stab strangers while abiding to school policy. They can use a sharpened pencil or a key, both things they are allowed to bring to school. I've also taught children how to cut someone's throat with a credit card, but most elementary school children do not have credit cards due to their lack of a credit history and steady jobs.
Steve: Sounds like you are doing some good work for the children.
Buck: If I can help kids have happy childhoods free of troubles, then I will be a happy Buck. Just as happy as when killing foreigners.
E.D.: That's a beautiful sentiment.
Brian: Now, as clean cut as you are, I hear you have run into some legal trouble.
Buck: Yes, sir. I had witnessed a flag burning. Though it brought a tear to my eye to see such a travesty, I understand that it is considered free speech, something I have shed blood on more foreign lands than I can count in defense of. Then I thought, well I am allowed free speech as well. Since one sets fire to an American flag to protest the American flag, I thought I would set fire to a flag-burner to protest flag-burning. Ends up that was not considered speech, and I was brought to court over it.
E.D.: That is such a double standard!
Brian: Well, some might say that the difference is one is a flag, and the other a person.
Buck: Yes, sir, I understand that argument, but I ask, who do people respect more, the American flag or a hippy? Seems more people respect that flag, so I don't see why burning a hippy would be a worse crime.
Steve: So what was the verdict?
Buck: In the state of Alabama, burning a hippy constitutes a fifty dollar fine.
E.D.: But you're not going to pay it?
Buck: No, ma'am. I'm going to fight this all the way to the Supreme Court if I have to. I'm going to fight for my speech as well as others.
E.D.: And we certainly wish you good luck with that.
Brian: Now we're going to take some call from our viewers. Claire from Austin, Texas, do you have a question for Buck?
Claire: Yes, but first of all I want to say how thankful I am for him killing all those foreigners.
Buck: It was my pleasure, ma'am.
Claire: So, Buck, what do you think of all those anti-war protestors?
Buck: Well, I was killing those foreigners for the protestor’s freedom of speech as well. Even though I may not agree with them, that they can express their viewpoints is a beautiful thing. That said, I must remind protestors that, while it is legal for them to shout whatever epithets they want at me and to deride my military service, it is not legal to touch me, as learned one protestors who will no longer have the use of his left hand.
Steve: Conrad from San Francisco, California, you're on Fox and Friends.
Conrad: I just want to say I'm disgusted by a baby-killer like Buck who fights for corporate oil interests!
E.D.: Oh my God! What a horrible person! It scares me to think that someone like that watches this channel.
Brian: Maybe he meant to watch CNN and accidentally hit the remote control buttons for this channel.
Steve: Or maybe he's an (shudder) MSNBC viewer.
E.D.: I keep telling the higher ups that I don't want affiliates carrying our channel in places like San Francisco and Berkley. I can't sleep at night thinking weirdoes like those people were looking at me on T.V.
Buck: Still, Conrad made a good point. One has to be careful with those babies. Once on an operation we encountered a baby in a crib. We stopped to say, "Aww, what a cute little baby." Then he attacked us. Ended up being a homicidal midget with a knife. A midget, being so small, he was hard to shoot. Ended up losing four good men to that goddamn midget.
Steve: They prefer to be called "the vertically challenged".
Buck: Sorry, sir. I lost four good men and to that goddamn vertically challenged person. Now I look on all babies with suspect.
E.D.: I know what you mean. Every once in a while I'm scared my baby might have been replaced by a midget in disguise.
Buck: That's why someone should always have a gun in hand when checking on her newborn.
E.D.: Great advice for new mothers. Great advice.
Steve: That’s all the time we have. I want to thank you, Buck, for stopping by and sharing your time with us.
Buck: It was my pleasure, sir. Ooh-rah!
May 11, 2003
My tastes aren't always the same as my readers, and thus what I thought was my funniest lines aren't always the ones people seem to like, but I just have to step back for a moment and pat myself on the back for the that answer today to "Why do light bulbs screw in clockwise?". I don't know what everyone else thinks of that, but it had me cracking up (on the inside). That reminds me, I want to do a top ten best IMAO posts with the help of you readers, but I'll set that up later.
What I wanted to say now was that, since I was a child, I really really have wanted to make a cartoon. So does anyone know much about making cartoons with shockwave? I was thinking I could use some of my donation money to buy the software to play around with it, but I'm not sure how much time it would actually take to make a couple minute short. If someone is experienced with it and could give me advice, I'd appreciate it. If someone wants to team up with me on making one, that’s cool too; it would be your chance to work with the greatest comic genius of your lifetime :)
I'm pouring my heart into tomorrow's In My World™, so I hope everyone will like it. There will probably be more Frank Answers™ as well.
Thanks for reading.
Happy Mothers Day!
Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there. Without your perseverance and wisdom we would stick our fingers in electric sockets, run around with scissors, and jump off cliffs like all the other kids. Without my mother's love and care, I certainly never would have grown up to be a law abiding, tax-paying, God-fearing, gun-carrying member of American society who writes a humor weblog.
Moms, you kick ass.
Frank Answers: Ninjas, Irresistible Forces, Light Bulbs, and You're the Pussy
Victor S. asks:
The Ninjatocracy is an old form of government, and it was only tried for one period of time in human history: 235 B.C. to 165 D.E. in China. Leadership was chosen by who could best flip out and cut people's heads off. Their economy was supported by going into other countries, flipping out and killing everyone, and then taking whatever they needed. It was totally sweet. They also stole booty from their arch-nemesis, the pirates.
What finally ended the Ninjatocracy was they went to Japan and pissed off some badass samurai. Samurai kick ass. The samurai went like SLICE! SLICE! STAB! and took out all the ninjas. I want to be a samurai when I grow up.
For more information on ninjas, consult the ninja authority.
I'm not a pussy; you're a pussy, pussy. Why don't you go back to your pussy weblog and write some pussy posts about what a pussy you are, pussy.
Thanks for the question.
First off, I make the jokes here. Michael Moore is not an unmovable object, because he is quite moveable by the smell of cooked pork.
I've gotten a lot of variations of this question, so people must think it's a really hard question, but I don't see what's so complicated about it. If an irresistible force hits and unmovable object, the unmovable object would change color. Probably to purple; if it was purple, then to some other color.
Now ask me a hard question.
The short answer is that when the dead body of Thomas Edison was found, next to him was a shattered light bulb and the message "only clockwise" scratched into the desk. I could just leave the answer there, but I wanted to know why Edison left such a warning.
So how can I screw a light bulb in counter-clockwise? The answer is, just push really really hard. With a lot of force, I pressed inward and twisted counter-clockwise, eventually mangling the metal guides enough to have the light bulb in far enough to make contact. I then plugged the lamp into a socket controlled by a light switch. I stood there for a while, marveling the unique entity I had, the only lamp with a light bulb screwed in counter clockwise. Then I flipped the light switch.
Instead of light, a black vortex emerged from the lamp, and out emerged electricity in a humanoid form. "I am Thantor, being of pure energy and conqueror of worlds!" it announced, the sound of its voice emanating from its entire body like it was one large speaker, "You have released me from my prison. Now I shall kill you just as I killed Edison and then destroy this puny world!"
"Dag-nabbit," was all I could think of to say in response. I then immediately grabbed the nearest gun. This being my guest room, it was only a 9mm (I never really contemplated home attacks while in the guest room - especially not by beings of pure energy). I fired my Walther P99 at Thantor, but the bullets disintegrated on contact.
"Your puny, German-engineered weapon is no match for my power!" it laughed.
I then tossed the gun at its head. "Ow! You wanker!" it yelled, clutching its electric face. I then ran out of the room. "Yes, run, puny human!" it mocked, "Delay your inevitable death."
But I wasn't going to run for long. I had just had my ass handed to me by a platypus, a three-toed sloth, and Glenn Reynolds, so I had something to prove. I put on my rubber raincoat and rubber kitchen gloves to protect me from the electricity (ha, and my mom thought I would never use them). I then took a couple Chi breaths to prepare for battle, and ran back into the room.
"Rarr!" I shouted, trying to summon in me the homicidal rage of my hero Donald Rumsfeld. I then came at Thantor with a flurry of punches. "Being of pure energy?" I yelled, "Now you're going to be a being of pure pain!"
Thantor feebly tried to fight back, throwing a punch at me, but I used the momentum to shoulder throw him back into the vortex. I then quickly leapt for the light switch and ended the nightmare.
Grabbing a hammer, I smashed that light bulb. That was fun, so I took out some more light bulbs and smashed them too. Now I have to go to the store and buy some more spare light bulbs.
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Please keep the questions coming, e-mailing me with the subject "Frank Answers". If I didn't use your question today, I still may use it later.
May 10, 2003
Frank Answers: Palestinian Peace, De-Frenchitizing, and the Ultimate Match Up
Elliot Temple ask:
As we all know, having just google searched the name, Abu Mazen is the new prime minister of Palestine. I was very hopeful he was a good man, but then I found out he was a Palestinian; they like to blow up people and are bad. If the Palestinians want good leadership, they should elect a nice Jewish boy.
As for the roadmap, from the context of your question I assume you're talking about the roadmap in the pocket behind the driver seat in my car. I never use it because I just chart my courses using Mapquest. Hell, I don't know how anyone got anywhere before Mapquest. Just glad I didn't live in those dark ages.
First, I am very sorry for you. Many people have some French ancestry in them, and constantly feel cowardice and snootiness bubbling through their veins. Until there is some gene-therapy to take care of it for good, one has to constantly take steps throughout their life to suppress their French instincts. The first and best step is to shower every day. One will probably feel most French in the morning, but a shower should take care of that. Also, try being nice to people. The French in you will make you want to ridicule and be arrogant to everyone, but you must fight it and be nice. Make sure to avoid drinking wine; stick to just domestic beers and the occasional whiskey shot. Also, avoid watching or engaging in soccer; stick to American sports like football, baseball, basketball, and beating the crap out of each other.
Follow this advice, and your Frenchiness should be suppressed to the point you don't even notice it at all, but there is one last thing: you can never, ever surrender. It doesn't matter if a swat team has you cornered or the enemy is ambushing you from all sides; if you surrender, the French in you will automatically bubble to the surface. And, if the choice is between being French and death, I think you know which is more desirable.
This would be easy to answer if this were a duck-billed platypus (is there another kind of platypus?) versus a two-toed sloth, but the sloth having a third toe makes this more of an even match up. The easiest way to answer this would be to place the sloth and platypus in an arena and videotape what happens, but, unfortunately, I only have access to a three-toed sloth on Tuesdays and Thursdays and to a platypus on Mondays and Wednesdays. Thus, I am forced to test each of their fighting skills separately and predict the match up from that.
First I tested the platypus. The male platypus actually has a toxic spur - one of the only poisonous mammal I know of. Actually, combining that with how they lay eggs and have the bills of ducks, these are some freakish creatures. It's like how drunk was God when He made them?
I'm kidding! Don't smite me!
Anyway, first I had to provoke the platypus, and that's pretty easy to do because you know this freak of nature must be pretty insecure. So I yelled, "Hey, you walking freak show, I'm going to make sure they no longer classify you as a mammal, because I'll be damned if I have a weirdo like you share the same Class as me." This enraged the platypus, and he waddled right for me. First I stepped on his duckbill and started punching him, just like I assumed a sloth would. I was beating the hell out of the stupid thing, but then it got me with its toxin, and goddamn that hurt! I was rolling on the ground in pain, and then the platypus began to nibble me to death with its duckbill. Luckily some zookeepers dragged me out of there.
Next I had to test the skills of a three-toed sloth. They're usually quite sluggish, but, when threatened, they can be downright torpid. First, I took a stick and started whacking the hell out of the lazy bastard, but he just ignored me. Then I spat at him and yelled, "Hey, you lazy bum, get a job!" Again, no reaction. Finally, I remembered a National Geographic special I watched a long time ago that said that sloths are notoriously homophobic. So I said, "Hey, who's that other sloth over there? Is he your boyfriend?"
The sloth was on me like a bat out of hell, its three toes in a death grip around my neck. Using all my strength, I was able to pry away two of the toes, but I just couldn't get that damned third toe! I could feel my life fading, but finally four zookeepers with cattle prods were able to get the beast off me. It still hurts to swallow.
Anyway, back to the question: so who would win in a fight between the platypus and the sloth. I have to say the platypus, because it's got more to lose, being how freakish and hated it is.
What's that at the door? Oh my God! It found where I live...
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Please keep the questions coming, e-mailing me with the subject "Frank Answers". If I didn't use your question today, I still may use it later. Also, try to keep the questions simple and to the point.
The Final Filthy Lie
It's Saturday, and thus it's time for the final filthy lie about Glenn Reynolds.
I think I peaked with my first one when I claimed he put puppies in blenders, but I continued on to say he is a Satan worshipping hobo murderer and that he is a Communist spy who dances the robot. You can see his traffic on a downward slope from all these lies, but I think I'll finish it off with the worstest lie of all:
I was walking through the park again, and I saw Glenn Reynolds and was going to avoid that evil man, but he sped up to me on his moped.
Here's more poorly made photographic evidence of this crime against humanity:
So here is the final filthy lie to spread: Glenn Reynolds is a puppy blending, Satan worshipping, hobo murdering, robot dancing Communist spy who punched your beloved Frank J. Tell the news, tell congress, tell other bloggers even; the lie must spread and his traffic must plunge for reasons I've now forgotten. But I think I'm going to laugh evilly anyway.
Bwa ha ha ha ha!
So what do I do next Saturday? I guess I could spread lies about other bloggers such as Misha (not actually an emperor) and Rachel (not actually a woman), but I want it to be a really big target like Glenn Reynolds. Hmm...
May 09, 2003
Frank Answers: Woodchuck, Duck, and What the...
Ryan B. asks:
We all know that woodchucks do not chuck wood, and usually I would stay away from hypotheticals, but, if you accept the assumption that a woodchuck would chuck all the wood it could chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood, the question is answerable. Thus, the main factor to take into consideration is a woodchuck's endurance. To measure this, you put a woodchuck on a treadmill running at 10mph with a cattle prod threatening it if it slows down. Now, take the number of seconds the woodchuck lasted and multiply that by the woodchuck factor. This is an irrational number, being approximately .038215 kilograms a second. When you multiply the two, you'll get how many kilograms of wood a woodchuck would chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood (which, I remind you, it can't). Sorry for the answer being in metrics, but it's the custom in the scientific community to use metrics when answering hypotheticals about woodchucks.
I'm sorry; I have no clue what you’re talking about. You have to fill those stars in with actually letters. This isn't a grep program.
You know that as soon as you finally get your Hyundai up to the speed of light, there's going to be some jerk riding your ass who wants to do the speed of light plus five miles per hour. Now, this creates a dangerous situation for both of you, because, if you see a squirrel and have to slam on your brakes, you're both screwed. So, you finally decide to signal your move to the right lane to let the guy pass, but the question is will your blinkers work at the speed of light? By the theory of relativity, this depends entirely on your speed as relative to the asshole behind you. Even though he's in no real rush, he thinks you're going like 30mph, and, at 30mph, your blinkers will work. So, the answer to your question is yes.
To most, this sounds like a nonsensical question, but it is actually a protolanphismal question. Now, I'm sure you're not familiar with the concept of protolanphism, as it is very complicated, so complicated that most dictionaries omit the word because trying to explain it would actually double the size of the dictionary. But, of course, I do know the concept and can tell you with quite certainty that the answer is Eddie Murphy.
NOTE: If you understood protolanphism, you'd know that the joke behind this answer is much more blasphemous than that answer in my previous Frank Answers™.
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Please keep the questions coming, e-mailing me with the subject "Frank Answers". If I didn't use your question today, I still may use it later (I need to pace myself). Also, I have a subscription to Scientific America, and sometimes I actually read it, so I really like science questions.
Frank Discussions: George W. Bush
You won't believe who I got for an interview this week: the President. Yeah, that's right, Dubya himself; no one can refuse an interview by the great Frank J. He was in Florida, so I got him to stop by my house for a quick, relaxed chat:
Frank: Mr. President, I would just like to say...
Bush: Call me "Dubya". Hey, nice couches.
Frank: Thanks. Gotta great deal on them from Rooms to Go. Anyway, I had some questions...
Bush: Whoa! Look at your entertainment setup. So do you get HDTV?
Frank: Yeah, but... hey, don't play with it; it's complicated stuff. First I have to turn the TV on, select the proper input source, then turn on the cable box or DVD player, and then turn on the amplifier and select its proper input source.
Bush: Sounds complicated.
Frank: Dude, all I want is to watch Fox and Friends in the morning and it takes me like twenty minutes to get the thing on. That's why I got a universal remote you can program macros into.
Bush: How's it work?
Frank: Uh... I dunno. It's kinda complicated.
Bush: I thought you were like an electrical engineer or something.
Frank: Yeah, which means I could design the circuitry for that remote. It don't mean I know how to use it. Duh.
Bush: Anyway, your setup looks pretty nice, even with it all turned off.
Frank: I could have bought a Picasso for a lot more money to put on this wall, but I think all this equipment looks cooler.
Bush: How do you pay for all this?
Frank: A little thing I call massive debt. I got it all worked out, though: If at least three of my future grandchildren have decent jobs, it will all be paid off eventually. Anyway, the questions...
Bush: You got something to eat?
Frank: Yeah, I got some Doritos.
Bush: Cool Ranch or Nacho Cheese.
Frank: Nacho Cheese.
Bush: Any bean dip?
Frank: Sorry dude.
Bush: Well, the chips sound good anyway. I'll need something to drink though.
Frank: Uh... I got some Guinness...
Bush: I stay away from alcohol, buddy.
Frank: Oh yeah. How about some Mountain Dew?
Bush: Sounds good to me.
Frank: Here ya go. Anyway, the questions I wanted to ask you... Dude! That stack of coasters ain't there just for show.
Bush: Oh, sorry.
Frank: No harm no foul.
Bush: It's a bit hot in here. Could you turn on the AC?
Frank: That's what I got the ceiling fan for. It's a lot cheaper to run that.
Bush: Dude, the President of the United States is here; turn on the AC.
Frank: Okay okay. Anyway... what are you laughing at?
Bush: You have the GameCube. That's the kiddy system.
Frank: They have lots of mature games.
Bush: All I see out is Mario Sunshine.
Frank: That's for all ages.
Bush: Whatever... Hey! You got Smash Brothers! Let's play that!
Frank: First you make fun of my game system, but now you see Smash Brothers and it's all cool. You're waffling just like Clinton.
Bush: I was just kidding with you... and don't mention that asshole Clinton. The whole time I was giving my inauguration speech, I could seem him leering at my daughters. I barely kept myself from the leaping from the podium and kicking his ass. Later, I asked one of my Secret Service agents to kidnap him, take him to a seedy hotel, and make it look like he died from an overdose of heroin, but he told me they don't do that sort of thing.
Frank: Did you hand him a twenty when you asked?
Bush: Oh, damn... that's probably was exactly what he was waiting for. I'm so stupid sometimes.
Frank: I can never remember all that stuff myself, like when to tip and when not to tip and what not. Anyway, what I wanted to start was asking... What the hell was that?
Bush: Sounded like something hit your house.
Frank: Oh my God, I got hit by a golf ball. By some miracle, it didn't hit a window.
Hey! Old man! Just get your damn ball and get out of my yard before I come out there and break your hip! And work on your damn slice!
I swear, sometimes I think that the idea that it's nice to have a house on a golf course is just propaganda from the window manufacturers. You know what I'm saying... where did you go?
Bush: Look what I found! I'm a ninja!
Frank: Dude! That's my sword! Be careful... Aww, you put a scratch in my wall.
Bush: I'm sorry. I didn't mean it.
Frank: Nothing that some touch up paint won't fix. It's very uncool, by the way, to touch another Samurai's sword. You then put your own spirit into the sword, making it confused when wielded by its master. The only way to remove the spirit is to kill you with the sword.
Bush: You don't believe that... do ya?
Frank: Nah, and this is just an iado blade; it ain't even sharp. Anyway, let's sit back down and get back to the interview.
Bush: Sure dude. Hey, what's in here? Whoa, that's a neat DVD collection you have. Are these foreign films?
Frank: Samurai movies directed by Akira Kurosawa. He was a genius. My favorite is Sanjuro. It's not usually the most recognized of his films, but...
Bush: Oh man! You got Fight Club! I love that movie. I tried to start a fight club of my own at the White House.
Bush: Yes. Ari was all gung ho for it, Dick wanted in, and we were goading Colin to join too. Condi tried to join, but I had to explain to her it was a guy thing. She then kicked me in the nuts.
Frank: Ow. So was Rumsfeld going to join in too?
Bush: Hey, I said "fight club", not "suicide pact".
Frank: So what happened to it?
Bush: Karl Rove wouldn't let us do it. He asked me how I'd explain away the bruises. I just thought I'd announce that Laura abuses me, but he didn't like that. Man, Rover is always ruining my fun, but he's not the boss of me... is he?
Frank: I dunno, dude. It was a while ago I took that course on governments.
Bush: All I know is I'm the president, and I think I've been doing pretty damn good job.
Frank: I think so too; you kicked ass with that war. I can't believe I actually thought of voting for McCain in the primaries.
Bush: You voted for McCain in the primaries?
Frank: No, I didn't actually vote in the primaries. Primaries are for homos.
Bush: That's what I said! You’ve never seen Rove move so fast to keep a statement from being aired. That reminds me; I'm not doing do well with the gays. They think like I hate them or something. I was thinking maybe I could have some film crew casually catch me watching the move The Birdcage and enjoying it. Do you think that would convince more people I'm gay friendly?
Frank: I dunno. Maybe you could also attend some plays or something.
Bush: Hey, I said I wanted to convince people that I'm gay friendly, not that I am gay.
Frank: You could talk to Andrew Sullivan. He's conservative, smart, and like really gay.
Bush: Wait a minute... Andrew Sullivan is gay?
Frank: Yeah; why?
Bush: Well, I was at this event the other day, and I thought I caught him looking at my wife so I beat the crap out of him. Oh man! Everyone is going to think I'm a gay-basher. I better apologize right away.
Frank: Hey, don't use that phone. If you run up a long distance fee, you lose my vote in 2004. Use my cell; I got free long distance on that.
Bush: Actually, I got a great idea: let's prank call Tom Daschle. Here, you take the phone; he usually recognizes me now.
Frank: Okay. What do I do?
Bush: Prank him!
Frank: Uh, hello, is this Senator Daschle? This is the Gay and Lesbian Justice League. We just want to thank you for your support of the gay community.
Daschle: I do my best to help spread tolerance.
Frank: That's why we want to feature you on the cover of the next issue of our magazine.
Daschle: That's sounds great. What do you plan to say about me?
Frank: The cover will say: Senator Tom Daschle, the Gayest Senator in U.S. History.
Daschle: Uh... but I'm not gay... not that's there's anything wrong with that... but I'm not.
Frank: That's hard to believe. We've all seen you on T.V.
Daschle: What? Is it the way I talk?
Frank: It's your whole mannerisms.
Daschle: But I'm not gay! I have a wife and kids!
Frank: Yeah, they were the ones who told me you were gay.
Daschle: They didn't say that!
Frank: Yeah, your son Toby said, "My dad is so gay, it makes me cry."
Daschle: I don't have a son named Toby! Is this Bush?
Bush: Hang up! Hang up!
Frank: Dude, that was fun.
Bush: I bet he really thought he was gay for a second.
Frank: Hey, get your feet off my coffee table!
Bush: What if I put a placemat under them?
Frank: I guess that's cool. Uh... what was I supposed to be doing?
Bush: You were going to ask me interview questions.
Frank: Oh yeah. So here is my question: Do your daughters Jenna and Barbara have boyfriends?
Bush: Hey, are you just trying to get set up with one of my daughters?
Frank: Come on, dude. I did phone calls for you in the 2000 election reminding Republicans to vote, and some of them were mad at me.
Bush: What state?
Frank: Uh... Pennsylvania.
Bush: I didn't win that state.
Oh! I got a phone call; I better take this.
What! Ninjas have taken over Vermont? What kind of ninjas?
EVIL NINJAS! That's the worst kind!
Frank: Dude, that sounds serious.
Bush: Yeah, sorry, Paco, I got to get going. You can never completely prevent ninja attacks, but you know I'm going to get blamed anyway.
Frank: Well, come back some time. We can have more friends over and watch DVD's and play Smash Brothers.
Bush: Just make sure you have bean dip this time.
May 08, 2003
Frank Only Want Make People Happy
When I eventually redo my About Me page again, I want to make clear that the one of the main goals is that everyone leaves this webpage happy... except for Commies and hippies. Apparently, I have not been meeting that goal.
First off, the spat between me and Bill Whittle is a joke. In yesterday's Links of the Day when I made fun of Bill and told people to say how much you hate him, I was just kidding. Apparently, someone who will remain nameless (cough... joey d... cough...) did not seem to understand this and made nasty enough comments as to cause Bill to close down his comments section again. I consider Bill Whittle to be the best writer in the blogosphere, and, even though I don't ultimately control my readers, I feel like a complete jerk for even being involved with this. I think it would be nice for the commenter involved to e-mail the injured party and apologize.
Had some interesting comments in my first ever Frank Answers post. One's a funny parody of a Bill Whittle essay by apotheosis, and the other is one (or a couple) accusing me of blasphemy. Just to be clear, I am a Catholic, and, as I think I made it obvious in my Easter post, I believe Jesus kicks serious ass. At the same time, by creating humanity, I think the Lord opened himself up to satire. Religion goes against logic much of the time, and I can't help but poke fun even as I have faith. That said, there certainly is a line than can be crossed were parody does become blasphemy. I think I was closest to that line when I had Jesus use a swear word, but, dammit, the phrase "mind-f**k" was just too apropos for the situation. Anyway, I think Jesus would find my post funny, as I was kidding Him just as I would kid other people I respect and admire. Also, I can't imagine the Supreme Being lacking a sense of humor (I think quantum physics is His version of a practical joke). I would like the opinion of other Christians, though, of whether I did go too far (and, for those who may be confused, Catholics are Christians too).
For everyone else, I would point you to this nice essay by Steven den Beste on atheists. Before I became involved with the blogosphere, I had the opinion that all atheists were a bunch of hyper idiots with chips on their shoulders, but I luckily found that is not always true (it's just those are the most vocal ones). The Raving Atheist seems to be one of those 'vocal' ones, so much so that I wonder if it's all just a shtick. Usually, I don't let myself get provoked (I'm less funny that way), but his manifesto "proving" there is no God was so idiotic that a while ago I posted to his message board a "proof" that the Objectivist principle of "A is A" is wrong:
Here is why "A is A" doesn't make much sense:
Just thought I'd share.
I might as well add some links of the day while I'm at it. Silent Running is now a TV show. They already got an instalanche for their move (I didn't when I moved), but I said I would link to them today, and I don't want anyone to call Frank a liar (except when I make a post clearly labeled "Filthy Lies").
Also, the man is trying to take On the Fritz down for their mocking of poor,
Finally, Rachel Lucas finds the funniest thing ever.
Tomorrow, a new interview with the biggest name yet and more Frank Answers.
Frank Answers: Moore, More, Gravity, and Doggy Heaven
It's time for the first addition of Frank Answers! Let's get to the questions:
Joel F. asks:
Now Moore has more of look of a guy who was just rummaging through a dumpster looking for a half-eaten sandwich than someone who is lost in a forest eating grubs and bear droppings. Plus, it's hard to imagine Moore having any reason to go out into a forest unless someone convinced him that deer were NRA supporters or involved with corporate interests. Finally, with all the hunters around who don't like Moore, it would be very easy for an "accident" to happen in a forest, and Moore does have simple instincts that involve life preservation. So, with all the evidence against him ever being in a forest, to your answer, Joel, I would have to say no.
I have wondered if a star were to suddenly disappear, would its gravitational effects on Earth instantly disappear, thus showing that gravity works instantaneously. But, from watching numerous documentaries on the coyote and roadrunner, I've seen that many times a coyote may run off a cliff and there is a delay until he starts to fall. This shows that gravity does not have an infinite speed as its effect are not instantaneous as it takes time for gravity to reach an object of mass. So what is the speed? What I did was make a simple experiment where I placed a gerbil in a small centrifuge, subjecting it to four times the force of gravity. I then placed the centrifuge in the microwave and set the power at 50%. The result was that the gerbil exploded after 26.35 seconds. Since I would like to keep this segment accessible to the layman, I'll just say that the resultant calculations based on that evidence shows conclusively that the speed of gravity is between 8 and 8 billion miles per hour, give or take twenty orders of magnitude.
This was actually decided by Willy J. Puffypants, one of the main founders of modern mathematics. This was quite similar to when Benjamin Franklin chose to label one direction of electric flow as positive and the other negative. While many think in retrospect that Franklin's choice was not the best when further knowledge was gained about electricity, most still think Willy J. Puffypants chose most appropriately when he said that two is more than one. I would be remiss, though, if I were not to remind you that one can be greater than two for especially large values of one.
I hate monkeys and yet they haunt my dreams. I will speak no further of this.
The answer to this is that I am very wily and quicker than many may think. If you were ever to come after me, Bill, I assure you your next essay would be entitled "Ass Whup'n", and my beating of you would be extensive enough to give you more than enough material to write 9,000 words about it like with your usual essays.
Now, we all know of the movie All Dogs Go to Heaven, but I'm not sure how much research they did before making the title of the film. So, it was up to me to do my own experiments on the subject. So I wrote an e-mail to John Edwards who talks to the dead for his opinion. I got back a form letter saying that Sen. Edwards is not that John Edwards and telling me that I'm a jackass. What a jerk. I hope he wins the primary so he can have a humiliating defeat against Bush in 2004.
Next, I obtained a dog and then stopped his heart, making him technically dead for a minute’s length. I then asked him about his experience, and he bit me. Thus, the experiment was inconclusive.
Finally, I had a lab assistant stop my own heart temporarily. I found myself at the gates of Heaven, and there stood Jesus.
"The time of your judgment has come," thus spake Jesus, "and now I shall..."
"Sorry to interrupt, Jesus, but I'm only here temporarily," I informed Him, "You see, Laurence Simon wanted to know if there is a Doggy Heaven, and I knew you'd have the answer."
"Yes, and the answer is... Wait a second; did you say 'Laurence Simon'? He's a Jew, and he'll just use this information for the Zionist conspiracy."
"What are you talking about?"
"Hey, I already have enough problem dealing with dead Iraqis since those bagel eating neoconservatives tricked Bush into attacking Iraq."
"Oh my God, Jesus, you're like a total anti-Semite!"
"Hey, just because someone raises legitimate questions about whether the Holocaust happened, doesn't make him an 'anti-Semite'."
"How can you be a Holocaust denier? You must have met all the dead people."
"Yeah, but I think they were lying about how they died as part of their Zionist conspiracy. It's all so they can oppress the peaceful Palestinians and..."
At this point, Jesus started cracking up, and I knew he was just pulling my leg. "You're such a rascal, Jesus."
"I had you going there, didn't I, though?"
"Yeah. I was thinking, 'Man, this Jesus is an asshole. I think maybe I'll become a Buddhist."
"Sorry, but I just love playing jokes on people. You should see how much I mind-f**k the atheists."
"Anyway, the question."
"Oh yes. In answer to your quandary, my child..."
Then I woke back up from the brink of death. Once again, my experiment was inconclusive, but I have to say that Jesus is a fun guy, and I can't wait for the second coming.
In the end, I'll just have to go with what popular media says, and, since dogs are such loyal companions to humans, there is a Doggie Heaven and all dogs go to it. One thus must also conclude that there is a Cat Hell and that all cats go to it since they are demon creatures with slit eyes.
* * * *
Please comment on if you liked this segment. In the future, I plan on answering fewer questions at a time, but I will do these in addition to my normal post of the day. If I didn't get to your questions this time, don't worry; I may answer it next time. Until then, e-mail more questions with the subject "Frank Answers".
May 07, 2003
Links of the Day and Announcements
Damn, I hate the sun now. I'm so red, I almost want to start complaining about how the pale-faces stole my land. Well, lesson learned is that SPF 15 is not enough for Irish skin. Anyhoo...
Bill Whittle, infamous windbag who writes voluminous essays as a service to insomniacs, dodges the question about his shady military past, tries to defame me, and then goes commercial by announcing his next essay will be about the woman from the Matrix and it will be out just in time for the sequel. He has comments open this time, so make sure you tell him that you hate him.
Emperor Misha I fisks an article about Molly Ivins. I'm getting tired of hating Michael Moore; let's hate Molly Ivins for a change.
Jay Solo has a vote for which is the best answer for what IMAO stands for. I like "Interlopers May Argue Otherwise".
As for announcements, I may not have mentioned it before, but I am super-duper smart, so I'm thinking of making a new section where readers ask me questions. Ask me anything such as why is the sky blue, what is the leading theory on the extinction of dinosaurs, or what is the best caliber to shoot a monkey with. Whether the question is scientific, mathematical, or philosophical, you can't stump Frank J. Just e-mail me your questions with the subject header "Frank Answers".
In My World: Whitehouse Denies Scaring Away France
"So why are we watching the stupid gringo Democrat get into his car?"
"Just wait for it," Bush answered, watching out the window with barely contained excitement. Below them, Tom Daschle sat down in his car and turned the ignition. Soon his car exploded into a ball of flame and Daschle started running around the parking lot on fire and screaming.
"Stop, drop, and roll, jackass!" Bush shouted and closed the window. He then collapsed into his chair laughing.
"Isn't that attempted murder?" the Mexican asked with some concern.
"What are you? Some legal scholar? Practical jokes aren't crimes."
"Anyway, senor Bush, I watched the Democrat's debate and took some notes on who may be your challenger in 2004. First off..."
"Who cares," Bush scoffed, "So the Democrats are fighting to find out which one of them gets to be the next Mondale. I'm a war president, yo; I'm untouchable."
"Whatever you say, senor Bush."
"Yeah, that's right: whatever I say. Because I'm the president and you’re just the VP."
"About that," the Mexican said, "When I was just doing speeches now and then, three dollars and hour was fair pay, but now you have me putting budgets together. I was thinking maybe I should now get four dollars and hour to be the VP."
"A one dollar raise!" Bush exclaimed, "Have you gone loco? Maybe I'll give you a quarter more an hour, but that's it."
"No way. I need a dollar more, or I just go back to Mexico to find work."
The Mexican considered this. "$3.75"
"Okay, Mexican, you drive a hard bargain, but $3.75 it is. All those number in the budgets better add up, though."
The Mexican glanced out the door. "That crazy warmongering senorita is coming."
"Condi? Does she look mad?"
The Mexican didn't answer and instead hid in a closet.
Condoleezza Rice stormed in the room and tossed a folder at Bush. "What's this?"
"Oh, just a little exploratory thing-a-ma-jig," Bush said innocently.
"You're planning on replacing you're entire cabinet with cheap Mexican labor! The only thing that stopped you is you couldn't find a Mexican violent enough to replace Rumsfeld."
"It was just an idea."
"The America people won't stand for the entire Executive branch being replaced with illegal immigrants like the VP."
"I didn't immigrate," the Mexican said defensively as he emerged from the closet, "I was kidnapped."
"See, Condi, he was kidnapped," Bush said, "Stop getting so angry."
"You need to find Cheney and end this nonsense," Rice told him.
"But he could be anywhere!" Bush protested.
"Such as right here," answered a familiar voice. There at the doorway stood Dick Cheney, adorned in a poncho and sombrero.
"Wow!" Bush exclaimed, "What happened to you."
"Something led me from the undisclosed location in Mexico," Cheney explained in a somber voice, "I found myself in the middle of the desert, lost and alone. I thought I was done for, but then a coyote spirit brought me to an abandoned abode in which I found a poncho, a sombrero, and a pistol. I then knew my true calling, and wandered Mexico, freeing poor town from the oppression of banditos. They called me El Dicko, and evil learned to fear my name. Finally, having brought justice where there was none, my job in Mexico was done, and I returned here to continue my fight as Vice President, renewed now in spirit."
"That's a great story, Dick," Bush exclaimed, "Oh, but I gotta tell you what happened yesterday when me and the Mexican were playing Mario Kart..."
"Yeah, I now have this Mexican as VP, so I don't need you anymore," Bush explained, "He costs less, he listens to me more, and he smacks me in the back of the head while calling me stupid about half as much you. So you can just go back to Halliburton or whatever."
"You can't replace me with a Mexican!" Cheney yelled.
"The Mexican never yells at me."
"It doesn't matter. I was elected VP and you can't just replace me." Cheney looked to the Mexican. "You have to go now."
"But what about my $3.75!" the Mexican shouted.
"Here's an advance on that," Bush said, handing the Mexican three dollars and seventy-five cents, "That should be enough to get you a cab ride to a couple blocks from here. Then I guess you'll have to walk the rest of the way back to Mexico."
"If I ever seen you again, gringo," the Mexican threatened as he walked out the door, "I cut you!"
"I'll miss you too, Mexican," Bush answered, tearing up.
"God, you're an idiot," Cheney uttered.
Bush looked at Cheney with an angry glance. "Secret Service!" Bush called out, "Put the VP somewhere undisclosed."
Two Secret Service agents appeared and started dragging Cheney away. "You can't do this to me again!" Cheney shouted, "I'll find where I am and then I'll find where you are and then I'll have my revenge!"
"Anyway," Rice said, "Let's get back to business." She placed a piece of paper in front of Bush. "Just sign this and we'll get to nuking Finland."
"Alrighty," Bush said, taking out his pen. Suddenly he stopped. "Hey, you're not tricking me into nuking Finland again. What's the real business I'm supposed to do now?"
"You must speak to France," Karl Rove said, emerging from the shadows.
"What? But I hate those douche-bags."
"Yesss," Karl Rove hissed, "But they want to save face after the war, so Chirac is going to call you as foretold. If you speak kindly to him, he will admit France's mistake, thus increasing the positive perception of you abroad. This will further lead to the downfall of the Democrats as predicted in the books of the ancients."
"Sounds good, I guess," Bush said, "But could you stop wearing that black robe and hood? It’s creeping me out.” He then picked up his phone. "So is there a call from France waiting for me?
"What do you mean Chirac already called?
"Then who took the phonecall?
They all rushed out of the room to find a nearby office where Donald Rumsfeld was shouting into a phone. "Blood! Death! Kill! PAIN! I will gouge out your eyes! I will feast upon your entrails. I will..."
Bush hit the receiver on the phone.
"I was talking to some frogs," Rumsfeld shouted angrily, "and I wasn't done yet."
"We were trying to talk nice to them, Rummy," Bush explained.
"This could be damaging," Rove said in an ominous voice.
The news was playing on a nearby T.V. "This just in: tourist to France say they are now unable to find the country. Apparently it was so scared by something, the entire nation went into hiding. No one can be sure what caused this, but most are guessing it's from Bush's botched diplomacy."
"Aww, dammit, Rummy," Bush complained, "You have to get that anger of yours under control."
"Rarr!" Rumsfeld shouted, "I'll kill you all for reasons I'll think of later!"
Rice grabbed Rumsfeld in a headlock as he tried to lunge forward. "We already tried sending him to an anger management class," she said as she tried to hold Rumsfeld back, "but they just sent him back with a note recommending he be put down."
"Can't you inject him with something to calm him now?" Bush asked.
"All I have is the stuff that kills someone and makes it look like it was a heart attack," Rice answered.
"I just got off my habit on that," Rumsfeld yelled, "You're not getting me hooked again."
Ari Fleischer then entered the room. "I heard yelling, and then I thought, 'Hey, people are going to need Ari again.'"
"Yeah, Ari," Bush said, "Rumsfeld has gone psycho angry."
"Well, guess what I have with me," Ari said, holding up a rifle, "The tranquilizer gun from that time you accidentally let an elephant loose in the Whitehouse."
"Cool! Shoot Rumsfeld!" Bush exclaimed.
"Rarr!" Rumsfeld yelled, trying to shake free of Rice.
Ari fired a dart into him.
"Hit him again!" Bush commanded.
Ari fired once more.
"Ra...," Rumsfeld started to shout, but then trailed off. "I'm feeling sleepy now. I'm going to go to bed and will kill you all in the morning." Rice then let him loose and he went out the door.
"Now you better go explain away why France being scared away isn’t our fault," Bush told Ari.
"Man, why do I always have to do that?" Ari complained, "Can't for once I be president and you have to go out and explain away my stupid mistakes?”
"Do not worry," Karl Rove told him, "I will summon help for you to cover up this problem. The less you know, the better." He then disappeared back into the shadows.
* * * *
"Why would we know anything about France?" Ari told the press, "We hate them."
"So the disappearance of France has nothing to do with any actions by the Whitehouse," asked a reporter.
"No, of course not," Ari responded, "That's stupid to say. Why the hell would we have anything to do with those goobers. I bet they were all scared away by a bee or something."
"Then how do you respond to Senator Daschle statement from his hospital room that he's 'saddened by how Bush poor diplomacy scared away France.'"
"I would just like to remind Daschle that he is very vulnerable right now in that full body cast."
"What about this one rumor," said a reporter, "that you were going to have a diplomatic call with Chirac, but then Rumsfeld..." The reporter was cut off as in a flash of fire a demon appeared, grabbed the reporter, and then disappeared in another burst of flame.
"Uh... why did a demon just take that reporter," asked another member of the press.
"Hey, stick to policy questions," Ari told them, "I don't know anything about demons."
"Would you admit that it's from this administrations lack of balls that they've now lost their opportunity to bomb France for their insolence," asked a Fox News reporter.
"Hey, bombing France was always on the table, but matters of diplomacy are more delicate than that."
"Why do you want to bomb the Syrian children?" asked Helen Thomas, "What have the Syrian children done to president Bush?"
"There are no plans to attack Syria, you crazy old hag."
"Yeah, there are no plans to attack Syria because the current administration is a bunch of eunuchs," said the Fox News Reporters, "If you weren't all such homos, instead of the Syrian children reciting their ABC's right now, they'd be saying their last rites."
"I swear to God if you weren't a woman..." Ari threatened, shaking his fist.
"Bring it on, baldo!"
"Hey, I found this stick and I thought it would be great for breaking over the head of John Kerry," Bush said, running into the press conference. "That will teach him to be so French looking." He then noticed the press. "I mean I was going to talk to Kerry about the how dangerous trees are, supplying people with deadly weapons in the form of sticks."
"When I hold Kerry, you better have better aim this time," Ari said, rubbing a bruise on his head.
"Why is your administration such a bunch of pussies?" the Fox News reporter asked Bush.
"Uh... I think that question is better answered by Colin Powell."
May 06, 2003
The Curse of the Monkey Has Been Broken!
I have closed the poll on which new character people would like to see more of in In My World™, and here are the results with 752 people voting:
The Unnamed Mexican: 69 votes (9%)
Ha! So the non-sequitur poll answer involving a monkey came in third! This means the curse of the monkey has been broken ,and I am now back to human form. Thus, there is a brand new About Me page.
As for the characters, I guess we'll be seeing more of the Fox News Reporter who will be easy to work into any press conference In My World™ post. Though Buck didn't win, I have plans for another post with him that involves my favorite fox news personalities. The unnamed Mexican, though, will have his farewell in tomorrow's In My World™, which I will write for you, my readers, despite the horrible sun burn that now covers most of my body.
When I wrote back to those defending Michael Moore, I didn't get a response from mm lover, but I did from Chris Ball. For the sake of completeness, here it is:
Talking of bombing countries, Britain would be a great place to bomb next. We have all the ingredients needed. Crazy leader, plenty of weapons of mass destruction and we've just produced a couple of suicide bombers therefore proving our links with Osama. Saying that, I think America possesses one or two of these traits too.
Crazy bunch of buggers who mean well. I'll accept that.
The beauty of this, of course, is that if anyone ever comes up with *real* incriminating pictures of me, nobody will believe them.
He's using my filthy lies to his own advantage! I'll have to come up with the filthiest lie of all this Saturday to show him.
BTW, there is now an animated .gif of Reynolds dancing added to the last filthy lie.
May 03, 2003
Free Ice Cream Shut Down by FDA
I have a ton to do and am going to have a mini-vacation in Miami, so this will be the last you'll hear from me until either Tuesday night or Wednesday. I'll keep the poll on the favorite new character open until then, which has more implications than you may realize.
To keep yourselves entertained until then, make sure to check out my archives to see if there is any Frank J. goodness you missed. Plus, I assume every fan of this site has read my Nuke the Moon treatise, but I just wanted to mention it just in case. The Nuke the Moon t-shirt may be coming soon.
I guess you could also check out the other blogs on my blogroll, but God know I never do :) Actually, Stephen Den Beste has an interesting discussion on blogrolls (and also links to me, reinforcing bad behavior in me since it seems that if I write something bad about a blog, they'll link me). He makes his blogroll small and uses it to promote new blogs that needs traffic. I don't agree with everything he says (I don't think 90% of blogs out there are crap; just there aren't as many out there that distinguish themselves enough to be daily views). So, here's something to discuss amongst yourselves while I'm gone, should I be like Den Beste and just promote new and worthy blogs on my blogroll, should I make it an exclusive club like Bill Whittle's site, or should I put about everyone on like the puppy blender.
Talking about promoting new blogs, I want to promote On the Fritz once again, which instantly became a daily read of mine. And I just finally noticed that the background of the banner is Pablo Picasso's Guernica (yes, I just pointed that out to show how smart I am; I'm still trying to think of a way to casually mention my SAT scores in a post). I also like Inoperable Terran who is a great linker. Unlike Den Beste, I like linkers because I have the attention span of a monkey on crack.
Another way to entertain yourself while I'm gone is to poke this bunny (just don't tell Anna; she might get belligerent). Also, you can join in on Jay Solo's contest to come up with what IMAO means (I put in an entry).
I've gotten a little behind on e-mails, but if Eugene Volokh can respond to every e-mail, God knows I don't have an excuse not to. So I will get back to you eventually if you took the time to write me.
Thanks to all you guys who read my site. I love writing this stuff and almost wish I didn't have a well-paying 9 to 5 job to get in the way of it (actually, I work 7:45 to 5:30 usually; does anyone actually work 9 to 5?). See you guys later.
Filthy Lies III
It's Saturday, so once again it's time to spread filthy lies about Glenn Reynolds!
Now everyone know that not only does Glenn Reynolds puts puppies in blenders, but that he also worships Satan and murders hobos, and it looks to me like his traffic has declined once again. At this rate, he'll have negative 20,000 unique visitors by the end of the year, but, to be on the safe side, here's a new filthy lie:
So I was taking a walk through the park when suddenly I saw Glenn Reynolds talking to an Asian man. All I caught was the end of the conversation where the Asian man told Glenn Reynolds, "Thank you, comrade."
And here is yet more unconvincing photographic evidence of my blatant lie:
I also wanted to have an animated .gif of him doing the robot dance, but my photoshopping skills just aren't that good.
Anyway, here is the new filthy lie to spread: Glenn Reynolds is a puppy blending, Satan Worshipping, hobo murdering, Communist spy who does a better than average robot dance. Now go out and spread the word, especially making sure the FBI knows. They'll put out a report saying, "Make sure not to visit Glenn Reynolds's site; he's probably collecting information on you to give to the Chinese Communists. Instead, visit IMAO.us, which, if anything, makes Communists know even less than they did before after they've read it."
Muh ha ha ha! Soon all the traffic in the blogosphere will be mine!
UPDATE: Fritz of On the Fritz made this animated .gif proving Glenn Reynolds dances the robot - or some similar dance - thus proving all the lies I've said.
May 02, 2003
Frank Discussions: Bill Whittle
My last two interviews were done with people at about my own level of fame, such as Rumsfeld and Condoleezza Rice, but I decided this time to interview one of the lesser people. That's why I had an ICQ chat with Bill Whittle from the blog Eject! Eject! Eject! He's known best for writing asinine essays that are a physical test of one's attention span, but I wanted to see if I could challenge him to answer questions in 8,000 words or fewer. I then granted him the honor of even more of my time by letting him interview me, that half of the ICQ chat appearing on his site (I cannot guarantee any links that leave my URL; assume everything outside of IMAO is filled with porno and foul language).
Anyway, the interview:
Frank: First off, can I call you Whitler?
Bill Whittle: You can call me whatever you'd like, Mark
Frank: Thanks. I have to say I'm a big admirer of your site. You tend to get a fair number of readers, right?
Bill Whittle: Well, that depends on how many puppies Glenn has knocked back. When he's hungry, I do a little better.
Frank: Yes, the Blogfather who deems who gets traffic and who gets none. Know any secrets about him I don't?
Bill Whittle: Not really, except that that he's from Tennessee. The whole drinking puppies thing isn't such a big deal there. The Vols came down to play the Gators and you didn't see a stray dog in the neighborhood for almost a year.
Frank: I guess it serves a purpose then. The point I was getting at before is that you seem to get a lot of traffic at your site even though you post only once every month or so. Do you think that's fair to the other bloggers that blather on day in and day out?
Bill Whittle: Actually, we post almost exactly the same numbers of words. Next time you have seven or eight hours free to read one of my posts, you'll see what I mean.
Frank: Actually, I wanted to ask you about that. Why are your posts so long? Do you forget what you’re talking about midway and have to trace your way home?
Bill Whittle: That's a very astute question. You know, most of my essays start with a personal story. Then I try to do a little history, find an anecdote, perhaps a quote or two and...uh...what was I saying?
Frank: Ever thought of instead of making one long coherent essay, to just do a bunch of short incoherent essays?
Bill Whittle: Been done.
Frank: Most people, at least those who can make it through them, seem to find them quite well written. Myself, I'm quite curious to hear what your main sources of plagiarism are?
Bill Whittle: Anson Williams. He played "Potsie" on Happy Days. Not that widely read, so it's a really smart choice.
Frank: I understand. I keep having to find these obscure Hungarian comedies to steal my pieces from. Anyway, I want to stop dancing around the issue and get to the main question: have you ever killed a squirrel with a hammer?
Bill Whittle: Tack hammer or ball peen?
Frank: Either or.
Bill Whittle: Neither. I have claw hammered a few dozen of the sons of bitches. Why do you ask? Got an infestation problem?
Hello? Squirrel got your tongue?
Frank: Black out.
Bill Whittle: Mental or electrical?
Frank: I swore at God, and suddenly the lights went out. I think He was trying to send me a message, but I don't understand it. I'm sure He'll explain it to me when I'm dead.
Bill Whittle: Have you been paying His electric bill?
Frank: Oh crap, that's sitting right here on my desk.
Bill Whittle: The Lord moves in mysterious ways.
Frank: Anyway, we were talking about hammers.
Bill Whittle: Yes.
Frank: So, were you successful? I've tried sneaking up on those squirrels, but they’re fidgety.
Bill Whittle: You have to throw them. The trick is to time it so they don't get hit with the handle, which just pisses them off. Then you are in REAL trouble.
Frank: Probably doing it as a drive by would be safest then. This nicely segues into my next question: why is your site named Eject!Eject!Eject!? Why not Eject!Eject! or Eject!Eject!Eject!Eject! or Whitler's Happy Fun Essays?
Bill Whittle: Well, www.whitlershappyfunessays.com was taken, so was .us, .gov, .nu, and .org. Actually, you say the word "Eject!" three times when you punch out of an airplane. If you say it twice, the other guy may think, "I think I should exit the aircraft, but what if he was talking about his VCR? I was too busy peeing into this little bottle to pay attention." Conversely, you don't have time to say Eject! Eject! Eject! Eject! By the time you get to the fourth Ej--- you're done. You're a smoking hole.
Frank: Nice little dodge to the question. I see you have a future in politics. Now back to what I think is concerning America most at this time: How much do you love the site IMAO.us?
Bill Whittle: The which?
Frank: Ha ha ha! You're hilarious. Ever thought of doing stand up?
Bill Whittle: The hecklers would make me cry.
Frank: That would be funny too. Now, I want to know more about the man we call Bill Whittle. Other than occasionally plagiarizing inspirational essays from a former star of Happy Days, what do you do with your life?
Bill Whittle: Excellent question. Breakfasts are at dawn, in the small nook of my summer mansion, high atop Pacific Palisades, overlooking the vastness of the ocean. After twenty minutes of Pondering, it's down to the local bakery for a nice breakfast kwah-sanh. During this time, I dispense largesse, call in favors, wet my beak a little, and generally mix with my Godchildren. Evenings are usually spent in my stealth Zeppelin, floating over Los Angeles in my red velvet smoking jacket and fez, reading left-wing newspapers and shouting IDIOTS! out the window with a brass megaphone.
Frank: My sister in LA has complained about that. Anyway, I tried reading one of your essays the other day. I didn't have quite enough Ritalin to get through it all, but you mentioned something about a war. What is your position on that?
Bill Whittle: I think Ritalin is over-prescribed.
Frank: Hey, my cell phone is shiny!
Bill Whittle: Can I see?
Frank: Oh, sorry, I forgot about you for a second. So what was your involvement with this war in Iraq?
Bill Whittle: Took out a few Scuds, terminated a few high-ranking leaders. Not something I care to talk about, really.
Frank: Because they were U.S. leaders?
Bill Whittle: Those things happen. It was a very fluid environment
Frank: Now, at this crucial time in American history, people seem to have divided themselves into two camps: those who I think I, Frank J., am the greatest comic genius and those who think I am the greatest genius period. Where do you fall?
Bill Whittle: Frank J? I thought this was SCRAPPLEFACE!
Frank: Goddman you! Do not mention that name in my presence!
Bill Whittle: This interview is OVER!
Some People Like Michael Moore!
My hate mail to Michael Moore (of which I never did get a deserving response) was probably my most popular post yet, judging from the number of links to it and the how many positive comments were left with it. But, I just checked again, and the last two comments are not very positive at all!
Chris Ball wrote:
If ever I needed reminding, reading the Michael Moore article reminded me why I hate Americans. What a bunch of twats you really are. Mr Moore is surely a rarity as he is an American who has more than two brain cells. At least the rest of the World (excluding Israel and Poodle Blair) understand what a dangerous nation America is. Of course, the majority of you wouldn't realise this because of the old lack of brain cells. At least your current fear of all things non American will keep the majority of you gun loving, God fearing, black hating, crazy Republicans out of Europe. Long may it continue.
Encouraged, mm lover wrote:
WAY TO GO CHRIS BALL!!! The letter to Michael Moore was anything but humorous. I kept waiting for it to get "hysterically funny."
They left their e-mail's, so, of course, I decided to engage them in a scholarly discussion:
Thank you for your comments in response to my Michael Moore hate mail, Chris Ball and mm lover. You brought up some great points, so I wanted to respond. For the sake of convenience, I'm going to refer to you respectively as Cheech and Chong, so please keep in mind who you are to avoid confusion.
BTW, I'll have a very special post that I'll be putting up a little later today. Oh, and one more thing, Michael Moore is fat!
May 01, 2003
Links of the Day
Rachel Corrie died a tragic death, but it's still entertaining to make fun of the ignorant jackass as Laurence Simon proves. (I always link the post instead of the picture; I'm a courteous blogger).
I guess later I may have to write own tips for generating traffic. I guess one tip is to be the first person to write humorous phony press conferences involving Donald Rumsfeld. That worked for me.
Kevin finds an interesting looking road sign out in his Undisclosed Middle Eastern Country™. My guess is it says kendo students are required to buckle up.
There is now competition to the Slutpublicans. It's an all out slut fight.
Some new characters have been introduced to my In My World posts, and I was thinking that would make a great new topic for Can Anything Beat the Non Sequitur Poll Answer that Mentions Monkeys™. So which new character did you like and want to see more of?
"Why are you still at the undisclosed location?"
Appeared shortly but memorably in El VP.
"There have been rumors that Syria has been harboring Iraqis and their chemical weapons. Why haven't we just marched in there and killed all those mother f**kers? Is your administration a bunch of pussies?"
Appears as first to talk to the children in Career Day.
"What was it like liberating an Iraqi town?" asked the teacher.
So here is the poll:
UPDATE: The poll is now closed; results are here.
Remember: This is democracy, so take it seriously.
Know Thy Enemy: SARS
Everyone seems concerned about SARS, but don't worry; I'll help you out. I got an A in biology at the local community college (what was a genius like Frank J. doing at a community college for one semester you ask; it's a long pointless story and I'll tell you about it later) so I think I'm qualified to give expert advice on SARS. So here it is:
FUN FACTS ABOUT SARS
* If you hear a knock at the door, ask the person outside a long division math problem. SARS is unable to do long division, so, if the answer is wrong, fire blindly thought the door with the nearest firearm.
* Ninjas are from China, where there are lots of SARS cases. So don't let them cut you with their swords, because you could get SARS.
* Monkeys always carry lots of diseases, so, if you see a monkey, strangle it. This may get the zookeeper angry. Strangle him too, the dirty SARS lover.
* If you kill SARS while it is outside your home, drag it inside to make things easier to explain to the cops.
* SARS usually attacks with flu-like symptoms, but sometimes it will use a choke wire, so always keep an eye to anything sneaking up behind you.
* SARS is probably a mutated cold virus. If it mutates again, it will probably become some weird thing with tentacles and sharp teeth. Destroy it with fire.
* Your friends may say you're paranoid to be so worried about SARS. Destroy them with fire.
* If you see in the sky a red planet with two polar caps, that's Mars, not SARS. DO NOT shoot it down.
* SARS may mutate enough to replace your coworkers with evil pod-people. If you believe this to have happened, then you can spend all day surfing the internet because it's not like SARS is going to report you.
* SARS is really just a bully. If you stand up to SARS and say, "Hey, well maybe I'll infect you with something!" it will probably back down.
* Know of any closet or cabinet you haven't looked in for a long time? SARS might be hiding there. Better check it out with a flashlight and a shotgun in hand.
* If SARS has you cornered and you are unarmed, remember that it usually starts off its attack with a wide right hook punch. If you duck under it, then SARS will have left itself open to a counterattack to the kidneys. That's right, SARS, you don't know who you're f**king with!
* If you bear the mark of the ancients, then you are the chosen one meant slay the Queen SARS, thus ending the threat for us all.
What? You say you have something better to do? Yeah, right; you were just going to watch TV. Lazy bastard.
* Whatever you do, don't go to Instapundit.com. Glenn Reynolds doesn't take very good care of his links, and they're probably all infected with SARS.
* If SARS is after you, you can't out run it. Instead, get in a car and drive as fast as you can, making many sudden turns so you hopefully can lose it.
* Donate money to a humorous blog. People who donate money to a humorous blog are shown to be ten times less likely to be infected with SARS. Don't give money to Scrappleface, though; that will give you SARS for sure.
* In a fight between SARS and Aquaman, Aquaman would win because SARS can't swim. It's not like he'd save any of us, though.
* If you believe you have SARS, don't panic. First of all, make sure you don't come down to Florida; that's where I live and I don't want your damn SARS.
* Uh-oh; I hear a knock at the door. Might be SARS. I guess there's nothing to do but chamber a round in my .45 and check it out. If you don't hear from me again, tell everyone I went down fighting.
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By MonthDecember 2008