Carnival of the Vanities is at Overtaken by Events. Get your blogging goodness while it’s hot.
From like the 80 article pings I got from chipstah!, I’ve noticed he has moved to his own domain using MT. So update your links… wait, I never linked to him in the first place. Forget I said anything.
Here is Laurie Dhue sporting the cutest smile and an uzi.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
Anyway, maybe the nameless Fox News reporter now has a name. What do you think? Discuss amongst yourselves while I take a cold shower.
One more thing. Emperor Misha has a post about a site for rescued German Shepherds that needs some help. I got a discussion going about the trouble of being single and taking care of a dog. To me, it seems the best solution is get married so there is someone home all the time to take care of the dog. Any takers? I’m pretty desperate, because I really miss having a dog.
Archive of entries posted on 11th June 2003
It’s Lunchtime and I’m Mad
I feel like Chomps right now; angry for no particular reason. Let me look through the news for something to yell about…
Well that was easy to find something. There was another bus bombing by sub-human terrorist ass wipes. If it’s any consolation to anyone, you can be assured the suicide bombers are down in hell screaming like little bitches, wondering why Allah abandoned them. How retarded do you have to be to think you reach eternal paradise by murdering people.
I bet they’re will be some celebration in the streets over the bombing. I hope this time Israel drops a bomb right on it. That can be the new message: Those you commit terrorism will die. Also, those who like terrorism will die.
People in Europe will probably be in an uproar. Then it would be nice if America helped out Israel and bombed those whiners. That could be another message: Those who don’t like people who like terrorism dying will die.
If we could just get those messages across, it will be a safer world.
Well, Israel has already gotten some Hamas people in response. Good for them. I gotta finish my lunch and get back to work.
In My World: Chomps, The World’s Angriest Egg-Timer
With North Korea theatening to get nukes for numerous crazy reasons and Islamic extremists continuing to threaten to kill American and Jews for far from coherent reason, Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld held a press conference to answer concerns.
“These press conferences are taking too long, and my doctor says I need to keep them short so that I don’t have so much time to fester with rage,” Rumsfeld explained, “Thus I have brought my friend Chomps, the world’s angriest dog, and chained him to the wall.”
At the front wall was a massive rottweiler, furiously chewing away at the metal chain that bound him.
“That chain is made from reinforced steel,” Rumsfeld continued, “and thus it will take him about ten minutes to chew through. I recommend you all have asked your questions and left by then if you don’t wish to be eviscerated.”
“I have a question about finding WMD’s in Iraq,” said a reporter as he stepped forward while cautiously eyeing Chomps.
“Let’s me you save you your breath,” Rumsfeld answered, “I don’t give a rat’s ass.”
“But people are concerned that this war was done for false reasons.”
“What people? Bad people are dead, people are free from tyranny. No American would be concerned about the reasons for attacking. Sounds to me more like something Europeans would be worried about.” Rumsfeld grinded his teeth. “I hate Europeans!”
“Grr-row!” Chomps growled at the mention of Europeans, and then went back to chewing angrily at his chain.
“So you don’t think people care if a conflict was started for legitimate reasons?”
“Americans like killing bad people,” Rumsfeld answered, “We’re all for making up all sorts of excuses as long as bad people die in the end. If I claimed we were invading North Korea because they had imprisoned magical elves, and then we destroyed their evil regime and freed their starving oppressed people, would you guys still whine about where the elves are afterwards while the Koreans celebrated in the streets?”
The reporter thought about that. “Yes, we would.”
“Rarr!” Rumsfeld yelled, picking up the reporter and throwing him out the window. “Next question.”
“What about those in the military who were brought overseas?” asked another reporter, “Don’t they need to know the reasons they were sent to Iraq were legitimate?”
“As long as our troops got to kill bad people, they’re happy,” Rumsfeld replied, “It’s not like anyone joined the military to not kill evil foreigners.” Rumsfeld looked to Buck the Marine who stood at the far end of the room. “Did you join the Marines to not kill evil foreigners?”
“Quite the opposite, sir.”
“See,” Rumsfeld said smugly.
“North Korea says they need nuclear weapons so they can reduce the size of their military. What is your response to that?”
“I would like to remind North Korea that we also have a plan for reducing the size of their military that involves nukes. Next question.”
“What would you say to those who characterize the Iraq mission as a failure since no WMD’s were found and Saddam may still be alive?”
“Grr-row!” Chomps growled as he lunged at the reporter, the chain barely holding him back. His massive jaws snapped at empty air, making a hideous clicking sound. He then went back to chain, chewing at it now with even more irrational fury.
“I don’t have anything to add to Chomp’s remarks,” Rumsfeld stated.
“What is your reaction to Israel’s botched assassination attempt on Hamas co-founder Abdel Aziz Rantisi?”
“Well, we’ve missed people in the past,” Rumsfeld answered, “So I can’t be too critical. Next time, if they think a terrorists is in a building, they should level the entire block. I demand more dead Palestinians!”
“Isn’t the Bush administration against the attack?”
“I don’t listen to those whiny pacifists,” Rumsfeld said angrily, “They want pin-point accuracy destruction while I support barely focused carnage.”
“What about…”
A loud metallic snap resonated throughout the room. There stood Chomps, a piece of chain now uselessly dangling from his collar. In his fevered dog brain, he could no longer recall exactly why he was angry, but he was quite certain that he was angry and his eyes scanned the room for something to take vengeance upon. They soon settled upon the horrified reporters, and the back of his lips curled to reveal jagged teeth. Drool dripped to the floor as he recalled the sweet taste of blood. A low growl emanated from his throat, in its own way resembling the hiss of a fuse to a powder keg that is about to explode.
“I’m sorry,” Rumsfeld chuckled to the reporters, “but it looks like your time is up.”