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 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.”
Links of the Day
It is agreed; Frank J. is sexy. Quite spontaneously, both Annika and Courtney have declared this so (blogspot direct link isn’t working for Annika, so just go to her page and search for “Frank” or “sexy”). Mothers, hide your daughters; Frank J. is on the prowl.
BTW, just to show I wasn’t objectifying Annika, read her list of 100 things about her, which was a big part of my deciding to link to her.
Speaking of attractive women, here’s a list of 10 things Rachel Lucas curses today. I hope none of them are referring to me 🙂
I better link to at least one non-woman today. Despite his name, Kim du Toit is not a woman and updates with his usual flair on that complete injustice in New York City about prosecuting Ronald Dixon for defending himself.
Acidman, who, as always, is too sexy for his shirt, talks about blogger identity theft. If someone else starts calling himself Frank J. (I’m looking at you, Frank L.), I swear to God I’ll…
Frank Answers: Potatoes, Monkey Pox, and “Frankly”
Virginia from Virginia writes:
A question has been bugging me for a long time now: Is there more potato in a bucket of large potatoes or a bucket of small potatoes?
The best way to answer this is by the scientific method. I took a bucket of small potatoes and a bucket of large potatoes and filled them with water. Whichever took less water to fill would have less empty space and more potato. Unfortunately, the potatoes floated. To keep them from floating, I decided a good idea would be to fill them with lead shot. The most efficient way of delivering lead shot to them seemed to be to shoot them with a shotgun.
Anyway, all my potatoes were destroyed, so I had to find another way to get the answer. I decided to call my parents since they live in Idaho and most know all sorts of things about potatoes. My Mom answered the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Frankie-boy!”
“Who?”
“Your son.”
“Joe?”
“No, your other son.”
“Other son?”
“You know, who lives in Florida.”
“Oh… you. What do you want?”
“I wanted to know whether there is more potato in a bucket of large potatoes or a bucket of small potatoes.”
“Now I remember you; you’re kind of an idiot. It’s the bucket of small potatoes. Being smaller, they fit in more compactly.”
“Great. So, do you think I could come home for Christmas this year?”
“Sorry, no room for you this year. Maybe next year.”
“Aww. Well, anyway, I just wanted to say… you still there?”
So there’s the answer: it’s the bucket of small potatoes.
Shawn from Roselle, IL writes:
When I read about the recent outbreak of monkey pox in the Midwest, I instantly suspected you were involved. My question is, is this some sort of genetically engineered virus that you created to destroy monkeys that somehow got out of control and is now infecting humans? Or is it a genetically engineered virus that the monkeys created to destroy you, and they just don’t care how many of the rest of us they take down too?
I am not specifically involved with the monkey pox outbreak. For one thing, I never resort to chemical or biological weapons; I just like plain ‘ole shoot’n when I want something dead.
My theory is that it was created by the monkeys – like many other viruses such as Ebola – to wipe out humanity and thus bring on the “Planet of the Apes” scenario. They decided to first test it on prairie dogs, though, before using it for a full attack.
Do I recommend that we hunt down and kill all monkeys as a result? Yes I do. Of course, I’ve been recommending that action for some time now.
Bill Cimino from Virginia Beach, VA asks:
Do you hate it when people say “frankly”?
Frankly, Cimino, I don’t give a damn.
Please keep the questions coming, <a href=”mailto:THISISSPAMTHISISSPAMace you’re from, I’ll randomly select one.
Know Thy Enemy: Hillary Clinton
Hillary Clinton has a book out! I know all of you must be racing to not read it, but I’ll save you the trouble and not read it for you. Here’s what I didn’t find out from the book:
* Exactly how many people she estimated her universal health plan would kill.
* That Chelsea Clinton was played by a child actor.
* Whether she shot Vince Foster execution style or gangsta style.
* What are the exact details of her pact with Satan.
* How entrenched into our government is her lesbian conspiracy.
* Whether her banshee-like scream can cause people’s heads to explode just like if she were a Scanner.
* Whether regular bullets can kill her or do you need to use silver ones.
* That every time she lies, her thighs grow larger.
* How many genetic scientists did she kidnap to make flying monkeys for her.
* For what purpose does she like to drink the blood of small children.
* Who would win in a fight between her and Aquaman.
* That the only thing that actually surprised her when she heard about the Monica Lewinksy affair is that her husband had relations with a “dirty Jew”.
* She’s not a natural blond.
Links of the Day
Bill Whittle’s last essay “Magic” was actually a bit short for him, so short it was almost readable. Whitler has since decided that the reason it was short was because he gave into peer pressure to make shorter essays. Now, he’s decided to do his own thang, and has rewritten the entire essay, making it longer. So here is “Magic: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut“. I think it actually grows in size as you read it.
Since my blogroll has gotten so large, I no longer just add people to it by request, and instead am trying to come up with better standards for who gets added. The new one is now being an attractive female who write great posts. Thus Annika gets added to my blogroll just like Courtney did. Maybe I can use my links section to subtly flirt with them; just no one tell them that or it will seem insincere.
Andrew Sullivan is having another pledge drive. Last time I heard he made $80,000. Well, let’s show him. Help me raise $100,000 dollars. Currently, we’re about $100,000 short, so start pledging!
John Hawkins has another blogger symposium, yet again without me. Argh! I hate things that don’t give me more attention.
Emperor Misha I has something just like my Frank Answers™, but he’ll probably say he thought of it first. Liar.
Condoleezza Rice is doing beer ads. Unfortunately, it’s not like that famous Miller Lite one.
Frank Answers
Poosh from Nanjing, China writes:
Why does it cost so much money to fight wars these days? The recent Iraq war cost billions and we were not up against much of a foe. I mean I heard a tank costs like a million dollars and I can’t afford that.
I know what you mean. I keep getting really angry at some countries, but, when I estimate the cost of doing war with them myself, it’s way out of my price range. That’s why it’s usually a function of the federal government to kill bad foreigners. Problem is, a lot of our tax money goes for other things than paying for weaponry. Like they take money out of my check each week for social security even though I don’t want social security since I have a 401k. I even went to the IRS guy and demanded that money back because I don’t like paying taxes that don’t lead to the death of bad people. But the IRS guy said I had to pay it, and then some guys came out with machine guns to emphasize that point. And they were really scary, so I ran away.
Anyway, maybe war is too expensive for an individual, but maybe if a bunch of us Americans get together we can pool our money to buy lots of weaponry and then go country to country killing dictators. It’s our America duty to solve all the world’s problems, and we can’t always wait for the government to do it. We’ll just get a deal with the U.S. government to overlook all our activities; they’ll just deny all knowledge of any involvement with us. We’d be like the A-Team, running around the world with guns helping people, but, unlike the A-Team, we would actually hit whom we’re shooting at.
If anyone is interested in joining, write so in the comments. You don’t have to be an America to be a part of it; as long as you share our love of killing bad people, that’s American enough.
Susie from God writes:
In one of your Frank Answers you said: “but now sign your e-mail with what name you want me to use, and also include where you are from”. Is the latter instruction a philosophical or geographical question? My parents told me I came from God; this e-mail is coming from Indiana.
If you have a philo-mo-spohical answer, fine, but I prefer a geographic location. I don’t want to start getting a bunch of crazy-ass answers from some po-mo’s.
Stephen from Hope, Arkansas asks:
What are your feelings on human evolution? How about evolution in general?
I like the theory of evolution, because it’s the best scientific explanation of how people came about. I admit though, it’s hard to conceive all the random mutations that must have happened to go from an amoeba to Frank J., the most perfect of God’s creatures. I don’t like the idea that God just one day went POOF! and people appeared without any back story, because that just seems sloppy – kinda like something I would do if I were God.
As for human evolution, I don’t think that happens physically anymore because we now live in a world where any idiot can survive and reproduce. Instead, we evolve technologically. Sure, it would be cool one day if humanity evolved the powers to shoot lasers out their eyes, but at least every few years we get new video game system with even higher polygon counts. Frankly, that’s enough evolution for me.
Now, that main problem with the theory of evolution is that it take millions of years to have noticeable effects, thus it is hard to empirically prove it. I say one thing we can try is subjecting monkey after monkey to high doses of radiation to try and mutate them. If one suddenly becomes a person, evolution is proven. If all the monkeys just die, results will be inconclusive, but at least all monkeys will be dead.
I hate monkeys.
Please keep the questions coming, <a href=”mailto:THISISSPAMTHISISSPAMace you’re from, I’ll randomly select one.
In My World: White House Press Secretary Had Built Up Many Sick Days
White House Press Secretary Ari Fleischer was less forthcoming than usual in his latest press conference.
“What is the White House’s opinion on the Palestinian prime minister?”
“Wow, the Palestinians have a prime minister now?” Ari exclaimed.
“Yeah, don’t you know that?”
“Know what, I think I remember Jon Stewart mentioning it on the Daily Show.”
“Well aren’t you privy to special information in the White House meetings?”
“Yeah, but I haven’t been to one in a while; I’m trying to use up all my sick days before I leave in July.”
“So why are you holding this press conference?” demanded one reporter.
“I’m not holding a press conference,” Ari said indignantly, “I just sat down to read the latest issue of Maxim and then you guys gathered around me.”
“Well, do you have any comment on how American forces have not found any WMD’s?”
“We did find some!” Ari shot back, laying down his Maxim and standing up. He held out a vial of green liquid. “Here is the chemical agent XL-6 we just got back from the Iraq. If quickly becomes airborne, causing a painful death by…” Ari accidentally dropped the vial, shattering it. “Oh my God!” he exclaimed, covering his mouth, “We’re all going to die!”
The reporters look terrified, but Ari started laughing. “It was filled with Mountain Dew. I’ve been playing that gag on people all day.” He sat back down and started reading his magazine again.
“I have a question,” said the Fox News Reporter, “I just did an expose on how many different countries there are and how the number of foreign nations is a threat to our national security. Is the White House doing anything to reduce the number of other countries?”
“Is this you?” Ari asked, holding open his magazine to a picture of a woman in lingerie.
“No!” the Fox News reporter answered angrily. She then looked more carefully at the picture. “Oh, wait, yes it is… but you still have to answer my question.”
“I have don’t have to do anything,” Ari asserted.
“You said you had measles!” yelled one voice from the crowd. Ari turned to see it was President Bush.
“So, I lied; what are you going to do about it,” Ari challenged.
“Uh…” Bush thought for a moment. “I’ll have you executed for treason!”
“Whatever,” Ari said dismissively as he went back to reading his magazine.
“Why do you want to kill Iraqi children?” Helen Thomas asked Bush.
“Because they smell!” Bush sprinkled salt on her. “Why won’t you finish shriveling up?”
“Ahh! A voodoo hex!” Helen exclaimed, running away.
“Why haven’t you found any WMD’s?” one reported asked Bush.
“We have plenty of WMD’s,” Bush answered, “Hell, we have enough nukes to kill everyone on earth.”
“I meant found WMD’s in Iraq,” the reporter clarified.
“Oh… why would need to find WMD’s there?” Bush asked, “We just went there to steal their oil.” He saw Ari shaking his head. “Uh… I got confused. We’re currently preparing a military strike against North Korea for the oil stealing.”
“You’re going to attack North Korea?” one reported said with surprise.
“Uh… why? Is that a good or a bad thing?” Bush asked, getting nervous. All the reporters now crowded around him and shouted questions at him. “Damn you, Ari!” Bush exclaimed, “That’s why you’re supposed to do all the talking!”
“Sick with measles,” Ari answered, flipping through his magazine.
Bush spied some man jogging down the street near them. “Uh… that guy over there is the replacement,” Bush said, pointing at him, “Ask him the questions.”
The press swarmed the surprised man while Bush made a quick escape into a nearby manhole.
“Going to miss this job,” Ari sighed.
Frank Returns
Back when I was in college, my roommate Nathan had the somewhat common problem of figuring out whether one girl really liked him or was just being nice to him. Liz, new to his Navy ROTC, had told him that on a datability scale, he ranked a 9. Nathan wanted my opinion of what that meant, and, being a good and honest friend, I told him, “She probably just said that because she pities you.”
Anyway, they just got married over this weekend, and it was a lovely wedding and reception. Hell, the reception had an open bar, and that, plus the facts that I was the only groomsmen who wasn’t already attached and that – if I do say so my self – I was devilishly handsome in my tux (almost made me wish I brought my PPK to complete the “James Bond” look), meant I spent most the night dancing and hitting on the maid of honor, brides maids, and various other single women. So, in short, I had tons of fun while you all were deprived of my witty and hilarious posts.
Now what was my point… oh yeah: if you’re a terrorist, don’t try getting through the Melbourne, Florida airport. I went there at about 1700 on a Friday when you’d think they’d be busy if they ever were, but the airport is so small there was practically no one there. But, at the security checkpoint, they still had like twenty people standing around even though they only had like two people a minute walking through. So you have like five people watching the x-ray monitor anytime they finally get a chance to scan something, and they don’t mine being thorough. While my briefcase went through just fine (which only contained small pieces of plywood and a couple empty cans of shaving… don’t ask, I don’t have an explanation), they spent a while examining my old sneakers. Eventually they decided to test them to make sure they weren’t bombs. That was fine with me as I wasn’t in a hurry, and neither were they. I was pretty sure my old, worn sneakers weren’t explosive, but it was remotely possible a terrorist had switched my normal sneakers with explosives ones, matching the wear pattern on the original sneakers so I wouldn’t notice. Also, I don’t always watch what I’m walking through, and maybe they could have become explosive by accident. They turned up clean, though (I mean not explosive), which not only makes the other passengers feel safe, but let’s me sleep soundly at night as well. I still don’t keep my sneakers near my bedroom, though, when I retire for the evening; you can never be too cautious.
As always, thanks for being a reader. I’ll return with normal programming tomorrow morning. I haven’t thought of what the post will be yet, but, God-willing, it will be funny.
Temporary Free Ice Cream Shortage
Frank Answers: An Antarctica Utpoia, Unobserved Humor, and the Curse of the Sun Sneezes
Michael E. from Austin, Texas asks:
If we took all the communists, hippies, and liberals and shipped them
off to Antarctica (or other barren wasteland), would they be able to
create the perfect utopia that they’re always yammering about? If so,
would you live there?
I don’t know if it would be a perfect society, but a bunch of frozen liberals sounds like a good start towards one. And, no, I would not live there, but I would hunt there.
Doug Morris from North Carolina asks:
If a tree-hugger falls out of a tree in the forest, and there’s nobody around to hear her scream… is it still funny?
Here you ask the nature of humor: can humor exist without a human observer. I’m sure deer get distracted all the time and run smack into trees, but, most of the time, people aren’t there to watch, and all that does is scare squirrels. But remember that God is always watching, and I believe He has a sense of humor because that’s essential to me not going to hell. So, when the tree hugger falls from the tree, God would chuckle. And then, when she’s lying there dazed and wondering what happened, God would knock the tree down on top of her and then laugh His divine ass off. Nothing better than a good smiting.
My silly sister Sarah, the silliest sister of all, took time out from being a big shot Hollywood costume designer to ask me:
Why does the sun make people sneeze?
Yes, it is true that looking at the sun causes a certain number of people to sneeze, and the explanation is not a simple one. I first went to my local Research-atoritum to ask the scientists there. They were not receptive.
“Bah! Tis a silly question no one would care to know the answer to,” shouted one scientists as he studied the flow of ketchup from a bottle. All the other scientists were similarly dismissive, almost suspiciously so. Finally, dejected, I left the Research-atorium, but before I reached my car, I heard a whisper from the shadows.
“Do not follow this line of questioning. It will lead you to your doom.”
“Who are you?” I demanded.
He stayed hidden in the darkness. “It matters not. Just know that many brave men have tried to solve this puzzle you ask, and none have been heard from again.”
“But I need to find the answer!” I pleaded, “My little sister asked the question, and, if I can’t solve it, she’ll make fun of me and call me ‘Stinki’.”
“It’s a better fate than what awaits you,” warned the mysterious man, “but if you really wish to pursue this, your journey will take you to the Himalayas.”
“Then that is where I go,” I vowed.
I was not able to find any guide willing to take me on this journey, so I trudged through the snow myself, climbing the rocky precipice. It seemed all unfamiliar, yet somehow I knew where to go. Eventually, harsh winds forced me to find shelter in a cave. Inside, I saw an old man.
“You seek answers,” he said, staring through me into my very soul.
“I wish to know why some people sneeze when they look at the sun,” I declared.
“Ah, a good question,” the man said with a mysterious smile, “but first I must know if you are worthy of the answer.”
Suddenly a knight in armor attacked me with a sword. “You must defeat the demon knight in a battle of swordplay!” the old man announced, “Then the answer will be yours.”
“I’m really subpar at sword fighting,” I admitted as I drew my katana.
“Just stick and move,” the old man assured me.
The demon knight bared down upon me, and I barely dodged his sword which cleaved rock from the cave walls as if it were cutting through a carrot. I caught him off guard though, and swung in, my sword clanging uselessly against the armor.
“Oh, funk this!” I exclaimed, dropped my katana and drawing my .45. One shot fell the demon knight.
“You are the chosen one!” the old man exclaimed.
“But I didn’t sword fight him.”
“But the prophecies said the chosen one would do battle with a weapon of fire.” The old man held a torch so I could see the ancient writing on the wall. It was all written in text I had never seen, except for the last part which said, “Chosen one will use a weapon of fire.” It looked like that had just been added with a magic marker… a purple one.
“I don’t know about this…”
“Look, you even bear the mark of the chosen one.” The old man held up my hand to reveal the mark.
“That’s a smiley face you just stamped on me,” I protested.
“No, you are the chosen one, and it is up to you to end the curse of the sun.”
“What curse?”
“Back before time was time, an ancient demon named Ahchoo saw man and was reviled by him. Thus he forever cursed the sun, causing about 25% of people who look upon it to sneeze.”
“You still haven’t gotten to the part where I care.”
“You are the chosen one, and you can end this curse by destroying orb of Ahchoo that lies deeper within this cave.”
“How long will that take? I have a plane to catch.”
“It is a perilous journey, with each step you take full of danger!”
“Each step full of danger!” I exclaimed.
“Well, there are a couple steps without danger,” he admitted, “but, by far, most steps are full of danger.”
“I’m going to have to say no to this quest then.”
“Why? Are you a pussy?”
“I’m not a pussy!” I shot back, “It’s just I don’t give a rat’s ass. I mean, I don’t sneeze when I look at the sun; just my stupid sister does. Why would I risk my life over that?”
“But it is your destiny!” the old man exclaimed, “You cannot walk away from your destiny!”
“I’m not going to walk away,” I said, “I’m going to try and find a ski lift down. Barring that, I guess I’ll have to use a sled.” I then headed for the exit to the cave.
“Destiny will find you one day!” the old man yelled, “You can try to avoid it, but it will find you!” Finally he just grumbled to himself. “Wanker.”
Please keep the questions coming, <a href=”mailto:THISISSPAMTHISISSPAMace you’re from, I’ll randomly select one.
Links of the Day
The Carnival of the Vanities is up today, and for some reason I’m not in it. I blame others.
All of the rest of the links today are about me.
Susie from Practical Penumbra has a post praising me.
Morpheus of The Dreamland actually takes the time to analyze my humor to show why it’s both smart and funny. More people should write long dissertations on me.
Oscar Jr. says I’m the funniest blogger. Oscar is smart (and will still be delinked eventually for reasons I’ve long forgot).
Kevin, blogging from an Undisclosed Middle Eastern Country™ (like anyone hasn’t figured out which one by now), started to write something about me, but it got messed up. Maybe he was attacked in the middle of writing it. Even if so, that’s not an excuse.
If anyone else wrote grandiose praise about me that I missed, e-mail me the link so I can add it.
National Gun Safety Day
I have decided to declare June 4th, my birthday, to be National Gun Safety Day. Here from the Frank J. archives is a gun safety manual I wrote a number of years ago. Now go out there, shoot bad people, and be safe.