- Some damn fool scientists have taught monkeys to control robots with their brains! Chamber a round in your shotgun and do it now!
I am not being alarmist.
The scientists are even talking about making it so that the monkeys can control the robots wirelessly. Soon, the monkeys will climb up into trees where we can’t get them while they use their telepathic powers to control robots to murder and enslave us. We need to get these scientists a grant to study the flow of ketchup from a bottle in high altitude conditions… research much less likely to lead to the end of mankind. - This “When you think monkeys, think Frank” thing has gone a little too far. Not only did I get a record number of e-mails about the previous story, but my dad called me last night to ask if I heard about it. I blame the monkeys! I hate them so!
- Wacky little Kucinich has made his presidential bid official. I know; whoop-dee-freak’n doo. What is this with like campaigning for a year and then officially announcing a bid? When I first heard this yesterday morning that Dennis Cuckoo had an announcement, I was like, “Oh no! He’s dropping out and I need him for my In My World™ tomorrow!” but it ended up instead it was this non-announcement. No one cares. Shut up.
- I want to take this time to officially announce I have a blog named IMAO. Someone please send the press release to the major media… or at least Instapundit.
No, I’m kidding. Don’t spam Glenn Reynolds.
Then again, it would be funny… - I’m getting bored of this stupid Democrat presidential primary race. I want to know who to focus my angry, partisan energies on. “Kill! Kill!” the voices tell me.
- For yet another day, France goes unbombed, and baby Jesus cries.
- They say there is hardly a peep about gun control from the Democrats. I guess they’re finally learning that it’s not smart to tick off people who own guns and no how to use them.
- Then again, they plan to bring up the “assault weapon” ban next year which makes illegal any gun that is cool looking or has a cool name. Time to mobilize the Association of Angry Gun Owners (motto: “We’re angry and we have guns.”).
- The buzz is we’ve recently spotted Saddam. I hope we get him so we can be like, “Yeah, that’s right; we got Saddam. In your face, space coyote!”
“What about the WMD’s?”
“The what now?” - The Chi-Coms aren’t going to broadcast live their space flight? What are they hiding? Something’s rotten in Denmark, and I say we shoot those Commies down. That might cause an international incident, but we’re kinda used to those by now.
- So are we going to beat the crap out of Syria, or are we just going to let Israel do it?
- Israel is also going to bomb Iran. I didn’t know there was a race to beat the crap out of terrorist states. We need to get back on the ball before Israel shows us up.
- Proper bicycle safety says, that, when crossing an intersection, first keep an eye out for a former Miss America.
- Also, on topic of Iraq… Ahh! Robo-monkey!
- No, it was just a chair. That whole story about monkeys controlling robots with their minds sure has me spooked. When do we get our mind controlled robots? Or will they only sell them to certified mad scientists?
- Islamic nations feel that their survival is threatened by the U.S. And some of you people thought those guys weren’t rational. You nutty despots; of course we’re threatening your survival. First Iraq, then Syria, then Iran, then Denmark, then the rest of you. And there is nothing you or Allah can do about it. Modernization is coming, either with you accepting democratic reforms or at the tip of a cruise missile, biatch.
- Al Gore is hoping is new news station will be able to avoid the label of “liberal” and attract a younger, hipper audience. I have a slogan for it too: “The Hindenburgh of News Stations”.
- On a serious note, I want to express my sympathies for the families of the troops who have died in Iraq. Those people have not only made the ultimate sacrifice for the country, but also in defense of the Iraqi people. To those who would use their death as propaganda against what they fight for, I warn that a big ass whup’n is waiting for you, either in this life or the next.
Archive of entries posted on October 2003
Links of the Day
Blogger S-Train had two people break into his residence and was forced to respond. It ends up the attack by the two demons was racially motivated (I thought we were done with dumbf**ks like those). Having blogged about the event, S-Train ended up getting so much hate mail he’s now taken a break from blogging. Well, go to his blog and read all about it (I find it especially interesting his motivation to buy a shotgun). I first heard of S-Train when he joined the Alliance, and, though I haven’t been a regular reader (I rely mainly on linkers to point me to other blogs; thanks to Susie for pointing me to this), I have visited S-Train’s blog on occasion. He definitely gave a different viewpoint to things than most of the other blogs I read, and I hope he eventually gets back to writing. In the least, I wish him and his family this best.
On a much less serious note, Owen has some phony money to warn everyone about (shouldn’t Harvey be all over this?).
There is now a Carnival of the Capitalists.
Blackfive has gone straight to the military sites to find good news about Iraq.
BTW, thanks to the eighty or so alert readers who’ve told me about the monkeys controlling robots with their minds. I’ll be sure to get on top of that subject tomorrow morning.
In My World: The Demoncrat
“There is a disturbance in the Beltway,” Karl Rove uttered ominously.
“What is it, Rover?” Bush asked as he practiced on a putting green in the Oval Office.
Karl Rove closed his eyes and tried to focus. “I can not tell yet, but it does not bode well.”
“I once thought I had a premonition,” Bush said as he prepared for a putt, “but it was just bad shellfish.” The golf ball rolled right by the hole’s edge. “Constarnit!”
The Democrat debate for the presidential nomination raged on as usual.
“I hate Bush!”
“I hate Bush more!”
“I wish I had some policy ideas… but I’m too busy hating Bush!”
“We hate Bush too!” yelled the sympathetic crowd.
“Wesley Clark is not really a Democrat!”
“I am too! You’re a doody head!”
“You take that back!”
Suddenly a vortex emerged at the center of the stage. From it emerged a giant figure in black armor with glowing red eyes. “I am O’Yama, eater of souls and registered Democrat!” he screamed, lighting bursting about him and the entire auditorium shaking at the sound of his voice. “I will plunge the world into eternal darkness, raining blood upon the land, all funded by taxing the top one percent who are not paying their fair share!”
The audience applauded.
“I’m sorry,” said the moderator, “but you can’t just materialize in the debate like this.”
“Your soul is mine!” O’Yama yelled, and a beam emerged from his fingertips. Soon the moderator was reduced to nothing but a skeleton.
“Well, I welcome any Democrat to the debate,” Sen. Joe Liberman said, “but I’m not sure that eternal darkness is the direction we want to take the country in.”
“Quiet, moderate fool!” O’Yama screeched, launching a fireball at Liberman. It exploded the Senator right off the stage. “I will wreak death, vengeance, and a progressive agenda upon the world, and no one can stop me! And I have been a Democrat since before time began… unlike a certain General in our midst.”
“Hey! That’s a cheap shot!” Wesley Clark protested.
“Quiet, or suffer for all eternity!” O’Yama threatened, “Only I can defeat George Bush! And when I do, his soul will be mine!”
There was a standing ovation in response as O’Yama’s evil laughter echoed through the chamber.
“Bush! Bush!” White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan yelled as he ran into the Oval Office. “There’s a new Democrat who’s entered the race for the presidency!”
“Who is it now?” Bush asked with annoyance.
“An evil demon that vows to destroy the world and eat your soul!”
Bush jumped out of his chair in surprise. “But Hillary promised she wouldn’t run for the presidency!”
“He speaks of O’Yama, Eater of Souls,” Zatoichi, Bush’s blind samurai Secret Service agent, uttered, “An ancient evil.”
“That sounds bad,” Bush declared.
Scott turned on the T.V. to a news station. “O’Yama, having just entered the race, is already polling as the front-runner,’ said the anchorman. ‘Apparently Democrats are warming up to him because of his left-leaning politics and how his vow to slaughter all humanity doesn’t leave him as vulnerable to attacks about being weak on national security.”
The screen then showed O’Yama, eyes glowing red with evil, giving a speech before a crowd of reporters. “When I am president, the oceans will boil, the cities will be destroyed in fire, and there will be universal health care!”
“What!” Bush exclaimed as he watched the television, “A universal health care plan could be harmful!”
“Why have you waited until now to enter the race?” a reporter asked O’Yama.
“Long ago, I was imprisoned within the void,” O’Yama explained, “but the collective hatred for Bush has given me strength to break those seal and once again spread my evil and leftist politics across the world. In a way, you can say the Democratic faithfuls drafted me.”
The O’Yama supporters in attendance cheered while the ancient demon laughed a spine-chilling laugh as the clouds above darkened and lightning struck about him.
The T.V. then showed a reporter interviewing an O’Yama supporter. “Does his being an evil demon concern you?”
“At least he’s better than Bush,” the young man answered, “Who’s like Hitler because of… stuff and uh… Bush lies like when… he said… things… Go O’Yama!”
“Sounds like the Democrat base of barely coherent idiots is behind him,” Karl Rove said as he emerged from the shadows.
“So do you think he’ll have a chance of beating Howard Dean in New Hampshire?” Bush asked.
“We cannot wait to find out!” Ichi exclaimed, “You must slay him now!”
“Hey, I’m not slaying anyone,” Bush stated, “Best not to attack any of the Democrats until the primary is over. Isn’t that right, Rover?”
“The destruction of the world could go against our partisan goals,” Karl Rove said, “Perhaps this problem should be handled now.”
“Fine,” Bush said, “I’ll get my .45 and then it’s one dead ancient demon.”
“No man made weapon can defeat O’Yama,” Ichi said, “You must find a hidden cave in the mountains of Japan and obtain the enchanted katana known as Crat-Cutter. Only with that can you send O’Yama back to the void.”
“Okay, Scott, go fetch me that sword,” Bush ordered.
“It can only be wielded by the leader of the free-world,” Ichi said, “You must go yourself, Bush-san.”
“Fine,” Bush moaned, “Every time I’m getting ready to settle in for a restful weekend, I have to go on some mystic quest to Japan.”
“Why do I have to carry everything,” Scott asked as he trekked in the snow behind Bush.
“Because you’re the sherpa,” Bush answered, poking Scott in the belly with his walking stick.
“Stop doing that!” Scott yelled, “And who is answering press questions while I’m gone?”
“I told Rumsfeld to cover for you.”
“Rarr!” Rumsfeld yelled as he strangled a reporter.
“Are you sure that’s a wise decision?” Scott asked.
Bush rolled his eyes. “When was the last time I made a wise decision?” He surveyed the landscape. “Now where is this hidden cave?”
“Well… it’s hidden,” Scott answered, “Zatoichi said destiny would lead us to it.”
“But how long is that going to take?” Bush complained, “What if a yeti or a wampa gets us first? And do you see any steakhouses nearby, because I’m hungry.”
“I’m pretty sure we’re in the middle of nowhere,” Scott answered.
Bush looked around. “Aieeee! Snow monkey!” he exclaimed, and then leapt to the ground.
“That’s just a rock,” Scott said, and then noticed Bush was gone. “Where are…” he started to say, but then fell down a hole. Once he got off the ground, he saw Bush sitting there looking quite annoyed.
“Just our luck to stumble into some sort of… hidden cave,” Bush grumbled, “Now we’ll never find that steakhouse we were questing for.”
“We’re looking for the Crat-Cutter, remember?” Scott said.
Bush slapped his forehead. “Oh yeah; ancient, magical sword.” He then noticed an old Asian man with a long white beard standing nearby. “Who are you?”
“I am the keeper of the sword you seek,” the old man responded.
“Cool,” Bush said and then held out his hands. “Gimme gimme gimme!”
“Before you can take the sword,” the old man stated, “You must first pass a series of tests that will try your strength, your will, and your wit.”
Bush considered this. “Ben Franklin says I get the sword now,” Bush said, holding out a one hundred dollar bill.
The old man snatched the bill in a blink of an eye. “You have passed the tests,” he pronounced, and then bowed as he handed the ancient sword to Bush.
“Kickass!” Bush exclaimed as he accepted the sword.
“Well, that could have gone a lot worse,” Scott declared as he began to look for an exit to the cave.
“Yeppers,” Bush answered as he put the sword in his belt. “Here’s your wallet back, by the way.”
“Another debate between the Democrats seeking the presidential nomination is scheduled for a week from now,” the anchorman said, “Pundits are expecting attacks against O’Yama since he is now the front-runner in the polls. O’Yama is expected to respond by destroying the city with giant hail stones.”
“Should be an exciting debate,” said the anchorwoman, “and now we go live to Iraq to hear from Iraqis exactly how they are affected by the accusations against Kobe Bryant…”
TO BE CONTINUED…
Because Your Opinion Matters
More poll results! Yay!
Janet Reno may have had her own dance party, but Ashcroft is much funkier.
What best describes John Ashcroft?
Loveable and huggable – 108 votes (22%)
Fun to be around – 39 votes (8%)
The Disco King – 232 votes (47%)
Phat – 113 votes (23%)
He was puny, and Ah-nuld did crush him.
What would make the best Arnold Schwarzenegger campaign slogan?
“Come with me if you want fiscal responsibility.” – 97 votes (18%)
“Gray Davis is a too-mah!” – 150 votes (28%)
“Consider that a recall.” – 63 votes (12%)
“You are puny! I will crush you! I am Ah-nuld!” – 227 votes (42%)
Han Solo may have advanced technology, but a white shirt and a thin black vest isn’t going to stop a bullet.
Who would win in a fight between Indiana Jones and Han Solo?
Indiana Jones – 219 votes (43%)
Han Solo – 161 votes (32%)
It’s a tie – 125 votes (25%)
Neo may have super reflexes, but the “Lost another loan to Ditech!” guy has chubby thumbs.
Who would win a thumb-wrestling match between Neo and the “Lost another loan to Ditech!” guy?
Neo – 204 votes (47%)
The “Lost another loan to Ditech!” guy – 177 votes (41%)
It’s a tie – 55 votes (13%)
In Daredevil’s defense, with some training he’d make a great blind samurai.
Who would win in a fight between Zatoichi and Daredevil?
Zatoichi – 274 votes (73%)
Daredevil – 67 votes (18%)
It’s a tie – 33 votes (9%)
It’s good to be “the man”.
What’s the best part about being a Republican?
Yelling at poor people – 41 votes (7%)
Not caring about the environment – 51 votes (8%)
When people talk about how “the man” is keeping them down, you know they’re talking about you – 315 votes (50%)
Being a fat, rich, white man – 58 votes (9%)
Actually winning elections – 165 votes (26%)
Man, that would be a huge refrigerator, and we should stock it with beer.
What is the best solution for peace in Israel?
Kill all the Palestinians – 180 votes (31%)
Kill most the Palestinians – 104 votes (18%)
Take all the Palestinians bombs and put them high up on a refrigerator where the Palestinians can’t reach them – 226 votes (38%)
Relocate Israel to Wyoming; Israelis will be in constant, violent conflict with the citizens of Wyoming – 78 votes (13%)
Kill them all!!!
What is the best way to defeat terrorism?
By living our lives as normal – 6 votes (1%)
By attacking the root causes that breeds terrorism – 35 votes (6%)
By being more engaged in the world and better respecting the opinions of other countries – 12 votes (2%)
Kill all terrorists; if people complain about our harsh tactics, kill them too – 535 votes (91%)
I thought illegal cockfighting would have done better.
I sure love tax cuts, but one thing I love even more than tax cuts is…
…seeing evil countries bombed. – 283 votes (47%)
…love, sunshine, and Jesus. – 67 votes (11%)
…illegal cockfighting. – 62 votes (10%)
…more tax cuts. – 190 votes (32%)
Number one and number three Jesus has actually done, and number two has precedent, but Jesus would never be all arrogant as in number four.
What would Jesus do?
Tell you some allegory for you to completely overinterpret. – 124 votes (29%)
When you run out of snacks at the Super Bowl party, turn rice cakes into Doritos. – 108 votes (25%)
Get totally pissed and knock over tables. – 113 votes (26%)
Be totally like, “You can’t talk to me that way! I’m Jesus!” – 86 votes (20%)
A lot of people must have attractive neighbors’ wives.
The Ten Commandments monument at the Alabama Judicial Building has been moved. What do you think?
God will now plague us with locusts… unless He’s run out of those. Then it will be a plague of badgers. – 85 votes (16%)
Bah! Ten Commandments. I bet I could fit morality into five rules. Lazy God. – 49 votes (9%)
We shouldn’t put up with this. Time to put the “Bam!” back in Alabama. – 144 votes (27%)
As a follower of Satan and a member of the ACLU, I think this is a postive step towards the elimination… er… uh. seperation of church and state. – 51 votes (10%)
So I can go back to coveting my neighbor’s wife and it’s all cool now, right? – 200 votes (38%)
More polls to come, because your opinion matters.
Frank Reviews: Kill Bill: Volume 1
I love cinema, so I don’t’ know why I don’t do these more often. Well, Kill Bill: Volume 1 is one of those movies you want to talk about.
It starts off with the quirkiest of humor, and then gets serious. After that, it’s a completely unpredictable ride… and an extremely violent one. Half the budget must have been fake blood, and it spurts with intentional ridiculousness near the end. This movie isn’t for everyone, but for the right, people, you’ll hardly find any movie as jammed pack with action and humor.
Well, half a movie. In a late decision, the movie was split in two with the second half coming out in February. This seems like a cheap ploy to make twice the money on the film, but, by the end of the first half, you’ll be so tired out from all the actiona an imagery thrown at you, you’ll be wanting a break– and I mean that in a good way.
The story can be summed up in one word: revenge. The movie is all style, and there’s no reason to dwell on the deeper meaning of it. And while there is a lot less dialogue in this film than the previous Tarantino films, the dialogue that is there is great. Better than the dialogue, though, is the action. It’s pretty much all martial arts and, of course, there is an extended samurai sword fight at the end. As for the realism, it’s more brutal than something like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and looks like the people are trying to really kill each other instead of just dance. Still, it’s pretty stylized at times, and the sword fight as too much “clang clang” to be like real samurai sword fighting. Unlike in the imported samurai flicks of old I’ve been watching where the evidence that someone is cut is just seeing the sword connect and hearing a yell, though, blood and limbs fly in this fight. After slaughtering like a hundred underlings, the final showdown between the heroine, The Bride, and one of the five on her death list, Cottonmouth, I thought was particularly well done as an aficionado of samurai sword fights.
BTW, you don’t even see his face in this first half, but the main villain, Bill, kicks ass. Apparently he’s an old fashioned killer, a regular cowboy/samurai) preferring a katana and a peacemaker (I may not have gone to some fancy film school, but let’s see Ebert identify a gun when the only view you get is the barrel pointed at the screen). From the little teasing we get of the character in this (mainly just his voice and seeing nothing more than his hand), I can’t wait to find out more about him in the second half of the movie. And, when the Bride finally gets her chance to kill Bill in February, it better be the actions sequence to end all action sequences to meet the hype carefully built in this first half. Four and a half out of five stars, and, for God’s sake, leave the kids at home.
Links of the Day
Gonna get dinner and go see Kill Bill with friends, so here are a quick couple links.
I have another post for Alliance members on what may be a useful direction for us that will make me us rich and famous.
It’s Bill at Bloviating Inanities one year anniversary. Go tell him you love him.
I’ve found out there are liberal bloggers out there, and I’ve decided to make it a feature where I find one smaller than me and bully him like a good, thuggish right-winger. This one wants to carpet bomb the Vatican and, even worse, calls my comedy “wingnut”, but is only able to point out a grammar error as criticism. Everyone go there and tell him he is a numbnut. When he is confronted with so many people informing him that he is a numbnut, he will have no choice but to conclude that he is, in fact, a numbnut.
My plan is flawless.
Fry Mumia
I’ve never really talked about the Free Mumia movement before, but I think there are some reason the movement has never led to real results, and I would list three.
1. His name his Mumia. That sounds like a scary man who might kill you. If he changed his name to Bob, he might get more support. Then his supporters would say, “They’re going to execute Bob!” And people would be like, “I know someone named Bob! I wouldn’t want him executed! How can I help?”
2. His main supporters are weird, Hollywood types. These are the kind of weirdos that normal people don’t want near their children, and thus they aren’t the best choices for vouching for one’s character. If you had Mister Rogers (God rest his soul), then people might listen.
3. This last problem I think trumps all others and that is…
HE KILLED A COP, YOU FKING DIPSTS!
Sorry, I didn’t mean to aim that at you, my readers, but this whole Mumia crap pisses me off much like those who go shake hands with Castro and talk about what a “nice guy” he is.
Paris has now named murder’n Mumia a fellow Parisian, and that’s just it for me. Obviously there is nothing and no one of worth in Paris, and we should bomb it to ash and then pee on those ashes. I still own the bombfrance.com URL, and I really need to get a petition to let our representatives know that, if Paris is not bombed, their jobs are on the line.
The other day, O’Reilly had on the wife of Daniel Faulkner, the cop that Mumia murdered, and she talked about how she sent mail to pro-murderer activists like Susan Sarandon offering to go over the court transcripts with them to show that, in fact, Mumia is a goddamn murderer, but they would never respond to her (in fact, the poor woman has been booed my murderer enthusiasts on a number of occasions). O’Reilly, bless his arrogant heart, has vowed to pester and annoy those Hollywood activists to get them to answer for this, and Godspeed to him. I’m always for accountability for numbnuts.
Yvonne’s Ashes: Part III – Starting School and Alaskan Fishing
Previous Episode
I started pre-school which mean I had to be away from my mommy, but my big brother, Joe foo’, was at pre-school too so it wasn’t so bad. He punched me in the arm, though, and pretended he didn’t know me.
At pre-school we would do fun arts and crafts, and then there would be playtime. During play time, Joe foo’ would obsess with destroying the pre-school’s power structure that he was convinced was trying to turn us into conformist automatons. I liked the toy that had three see-through panels of different color: one red, one blue, and one yellow. If you combined red and blue, you got purple. If you combined red and yellow, you got orange. If you combined blue and yellow, you got green. If you combined them all, God help you.
At snack time we got crackers and Kool-aid… actually the other kids got crackers and Kool-aid. Mom thought Kool-aid was too sugary, and she instructed that Joe and me couldn’t have any so we just got water instead. What a mean momma. We would try to trick the teacher, such as putting on a fake mustache, but she was too smart for us.
After pre-school, we could play in the playground while we waited for our parents to remember us. We had a jungle gym and other such fun things to climb – all suspended over nice, forgiving concrete. There was this extra big platform that you could climb up to on a ladder and had different slides to get down. It was so high it was scary. One day I finally climbed up onto it, but, when I tried to get down, I noticed I was all alone, and at the bottom was the Alaskan snow monkey ready to bite me. I tried moving from slide to slide, but the monkey kept be persistent, always standing there staring at me evilly. I started crying, and eventually the teacher had to come to help me down.
All as a family, we went to one of the big, national parks in Alaska. When we were there, we ate some bear meat. It was yummy. I didn’t know bears were for eating. Dad told me, “If you can kills it, you can eats it.” Dad is very wise.
A three-legged dog named Charlie lived near us, and we sometimes took care of him. I made fun of him for missing a leg, but then he charged me and knocked me over. I tried to knock him over, but I couldn’t because of that support that extra leg gave him. Stupid Charlie, thinking he’s so great because he has one more leg than me.
When it got colder, we had a problem with a walrus getting in the backyard and tearing up the lawn with his tusks. Momma would say, “Frankie, you go take a broom and chase away that walrus.”
“Why can’t Joe do it? Those big teeth are scary.”
“You go chase way that walrus right now!”
So I’d go in the backyard, swing my broom at the walrus while saying, “Shoo, walrus, shoo!” He knocked me down with his big tail, though, and then I saw that stupid Alaskan snow monkey up in a tree laughing at me. I’d get that monkey, I swore.
Joe and I got a neat new present – a bunk bed! It was a two-story bed, which was really cool. My brother got the top bunk, though, so it ended to me being just like a regular bed that was in constant threat of crushing me.
We also got a black and white T.V. for our room upon which we could watch sitcoms like Cheers and not understand the jokes. On Saturday morning’s, though, we’d go out to the living room and watch cartoons on the color T.V. Joe foo’, Silly Sister Sarah, and me liked to watch the Smurfs and learn about their perfect society led by the unquestioned dictator, the bearded Papa Smurf. They were constantly threatened by an evil Jew and his cat. Dad didn’t let us watch it though, since he said it was Commie propaganda. So instead we put on Scooby-Doo, but dad was afraid that would teach us to meddle. So instead we watched The News Hour with Jim Lehrer, which taught us to be boring.
We ended up going on a big fishing trip. It was so far off in another place in Alaska that we had to take plane to get there. We flew over mountains and landed in water. Then we had a cabin to stay in. To go the bathroom was a big outhouse with a deep hole. Joe foo’ and I were scared of falling in, so we thought of dropping little Sarah down the hole to test things out. Mom found out and stopped us, though.
My dad ended up catching the biggest fish that season. It was huge! He then gave it to the camp people to have it prepared for a trophy. When he came back to get it, though, he found out that the guy and filleted it. My dad expressed displeasure at this.
“I’LL MURDER YOU DEAD!” my dad screamed as the staff tried to hold him back. “I’ll find out where you live and kill you and everyone you care about!” my dad said as they dragged him off.
Fishing was fun, but things waited for my dad and me that weren’t so fun.
Frank Tips for Governing California
Arnold is going to be governor of California, but his previous experience was acting and he has a big task ahead of him balancing the budget. So I was thinking, “Hey! He needs my advice!” So here is some advice to Arnold to be the bestest governor since Ronald Reagan and close that budget gap:
* No more groping; people want decency from their governor. People are less attractive at the capitol than Hollywood anyway. And, though your wife is related to the Kennedys, she deserves your respect.
* People need to respect you. If someone makes fun of the way you talk, smash his head between your two massive hands while shouting, “Dah!” That will be a good warning to others.
* The LA Times is obviously biased against you, so storm their headquarters with an M60 and kill them all. They probably won’t like that, but they won’t be alive to give you biased, negative coverage of the event since they’ll be dead. NOTE: No one take this out of context and say I advised Arnold to murder a bunch of people. I’m telling him to kill journalists; leave the janitorial staff at the LA Times alone.
* You have to work with a Democrat legislature, and we all know they fear neither God nor man and wish the worst for everyone. When it comes time to vote on a budget you propose, run into the capitol and start throwing people around. This will intimidate them to vote your way.
* There are millions of illegal aliens in California, and they cost the taxpayers money. Since it’s too hard to go around and find out who is an illegal alien and who isn’t, just deport everyone in San Francisco.
* If you need more money, you could set up lemonade stands around your borders and sell to the states around you. Mmm… lemonade.
* To set the pace of budget cuts, whatever bureaucracy in California is wasting the most money, blow it up.
* Keep a dog with you at all times. If you are really successful, you may cause the downfall of the Democrats in the future. Thus, those future Democrats may send back a robot disguised as a man to kill you. Dogs are good at identifying those.
* I know you campaigned saying you’re for gun control, but come on; you’re Arnold. Liberalize laws on guns and then save money by cutting the police force in a program called “Shoot Your Own Damn Criminals”.
* The Indians have been having a free ride ever since we stole their land, enslaved them, and kept relocating them. It’s time to make their casinos pay their fair share.
* If people are going to reduce spending, you need to set an example for them, Arnold. Instead of storming into a room firing two guns at once, use only one.
* I’m usually not for taxes that target the rich, and I know you promised you wouldn’t raise them, but why not put a tax on Hollywood types who speak out for wacky causes. We’ll call it the “Being a Prick Tax”.
* Another tax idea: just like their are extra taxes on things we consider harmful like alcohol and cigarettes, being poor is a drain on the economy, so tax that.
* Finding a way to make all the money fit in California could be hard, so find a state that doesn’t have problems with their budget and set up a meeting with their governor. Then, when no one is looking, switch budgets. Muh ha ha ha!
* If all else fails, burn down California and collect the insurance money.
A Message For Liberals and Links of the Day
Sorry, I’m tired and no time to speak like Arnold (I’m veak and puny), but I have a few things to say.
For a change of pace, let’s take a look at some liberal blogs. At Daily Kos, he has the mentality of that of a four-year-old: “They recalled our governor, let’s recall theirs back.” Tom Tomorrow is scared that Arnold will become president, not caring about any rational argument that naturalized citizens should be able to be president (hateful uber-partisan, anyone?). John Hawkins has a good roundup of the Democratic Underground, who, as always, play their part of the inmates in the Asylum looking out the window and wondering why everyone is so crazy. Calpundit, since he actually lives in California, is much more reserved, but you can see the crazy liberal trying to break out. It’s almost like the Bruce Banner trying to hold back the Hulk. You can hold onto your sanity, Kevin; we’re rooting for you!
Anyway, I have a message for liberals, and I mean the real wackadoo ones. I know they don’t usually read my blog, but someone point them here, as I have a few important points to tell them about the recall election.
First off, conservatives don’t even like Arnold. Like 13% of the voters in California threw their vote away to McClintock. Many believe things would be better for Bush in 2004 with a weak Democrat in California in 2004. The reason so many of us are enjoying this is that it enrages you wackadoos so much that you’re tearing apart your tinfoil hats with your teeth, and that is entertaining.
Secondly, this is an isolated events, nitwits. Misha has a good example of your wacky thinking trying to make some association between this and Bush. Okay, everyone listen to this carefully:
Davis has an approval rating in the low twenties.
That is a very unusual thing, you nuts; don’t you understand that? His own party hated him. Sure this was political opportunism by the Republicans… opportunism of a valid opportunity. If you idiots can find a Republican governor as hated as Davis in a state with a recall law, more power to you. And if Arnold gets that low an approval rating after a while in office (which is hard to imagine, even if he goes grope crazy), go ahead and recall him, but don’t do it as some temper tantrum.
Lastly, there’s some talk from the super wackadoos about the need for revolution or to fight, and this is a point I think all you liberals need to hear again from time to time:
There are more conservative than liberals in America. There always have been, and there always will be. And we have guns and you don’t. If you want a street fight, it will be very short. This is important for you liberals to know, because we conservatives could easily slaughter you all if we wanted, but, instead, out of the kindness of our hearts, we let you live and tolerate your shrill dissent. You guys need to be more thankful of that.
Okay, enough talking to liberals. Here are some links:
The Carnival of the Vanities is up.
Owen hasn’t been paying attention to the news and needs to catch up.
The Indepundit reports on how Arafat had a heart attack. A sniper bullet to the head should clear that up.
We’ve still had some trouble spreading the word about Front Line Voices, and Jay Solo has a good idea to get the word outside of the blogosphere.
BTW, after martial arts today, we all went to a Chinese buffet to welcome back a student who had returned from Iraq. On the placemats they had those things about what animal goes with what year, and I’m a frick’n sheep. Guess what is the year after mine? The year of the monkey. 2003 is a year of the sheep, which makes sense since I’m 24 (gone through the cycle twice), but that also means that next year, 2004, the election year, is a year of the monkey. That doesn’t bode well for the Republicans.
Oh, and Tom Bridge wanted a birthday shout out. What does he think this is? Some children’s show where I do birthday announcements? Geez.
Now go visit all those puny little blogs. Dah!
UPDATE: Bill Whittle, who lives in California, has some commentary on the issue. He needs to send out an e-mail notice every time he updates.
New Holiday
In My World: Stabilizing Iraq
“Hey, kids, I’d love to do my imitation again, but it ain’t good for my equipment.”
“Please big American!” the Iraqi kids pleaded.
“Well, alright,” Buck the Marine said. He then dropped his rifle, raised his hands, and shouted, “J’ai une odeur comme le fromage!”
The children all laughed and clapped their hands.
“Pick that rifle back up!” came a stern voice from behind Buck.
He took his rifle and turned around to see Condoleezza Rice. “Hey, you’re that National Security Advisor.”
“Yes, and I’m now in charge of stabilization in Iraq and Afghanistan,” Condi answered, “I’ve decided to take a hands on approach.” She turned to an Iraqi loitering nearby. “What are you doing?”
“Sitting on a barrel.”
“Don’t sit on that barrel!” She looked around. “Sit on that barrel over there.”
“Okay.”
Condi watched carefully as the Iraqi moved his sitting place to the other barrel. “Excellent.”
“Do you really need to micro-manage like that?” Buck asked.
“I will not be questioned!” Condi yelled. She then turned to one of the children. “How old are you?”
“Seven.”
“That’s old enough to make me coffee; get to it! And, as for the rest of you kids, you need to start work on rebuilding that bridge over the river to the east.”
“But we don’t know…”
“I said go build a bridge!” Condi screamed and raised her hand ready to strike. The kids ran away in fear.
“Should I help the kids,” asked the loitering Iraqi.
“I told you to sit on that barrel and you’re going to stay on that barrel!” Condi yelled. She then composed herself and looked to Buck. “I cannot have a stabilized Iraq unless people do as I say unquestioningly. Now, I have a job for you, Buck. I hear there are still some terrorists left here and I need you to deal with them.”
“I will do my best, ma’am.”
“I want them all dead by tomorrow morning. My carefully laid plans need all evil people in Iraq dead by tomorrow.”
“Uh… okay, ma’am… uh… all of them?”
“I think I made that clear!” Condi said curtly. “You’ll have help from the U.N., by the way. I’ve brought with me the award winning U.N. peacekeeper Chomps, the world’s angriest dog.”
Chomps, wearing his blue helmet, came running up to Condi’s side and looking quite angry at everything. “This heat makes him grumpy,” Condi explained.
Chomps started barking at the sun. He stopped after the light stung his eyes too much, but then recovered and barked at the sun again.
“So just to be clear, ma’am, my job is to kill all terrorists in Iraq within twenty-four hours?” Buck asked dubiously.
“By tomorrow morning; you better not take twenty-four hours!” Condi warned.
Buck prepped his rifle. “Yes, ma’am!”
“You’re going to have to kill a lot of terrorists with your teeth,” Buck told Chomps, “because I don’t think I have enough bullets.”
Chomps savagely mangled a patch of sand that angered him somehow.
“Quiet, Chomps,” Buck whispered, “I think I her me some for’ners.”
From a nearby cave, they could hear some voices.
“We must kill the American invaders!” said one man.
“We need to get all American and Jews out of the Middle East,” said another, “Then we can once again be a true Islamic region and go back to just killing each other.”
“That will be great,” answered the first, “but did you just drop a small green pineapple?”
“All them Islamic terrorists is going to be bad for your stomach,” Buck told Chomps, “Why don’t you chase that down with a pork chop.”
He threw the piece of meat to Chomps who ate it greedily.
“Well, I’m out of ammo and my knife needs sharpening,” Buck said, “Hopefully we got all them terrorists ’cause I’m starting to get tired.”
They trekked back to town just as the sun was rising. “Are all the terrorists dead?” was their greeting by Condi when they arrived.
“I think so,” Buck answered, “During the night, we went all around Iraq killing anyone who was too foreign. There was a lot of them, but they’s dead now. Usually kill’n gets me pumped up, but I’m pretty tuckered out about now. So how is the rebuilding?”
“Well, the school, the hospital, and the police station are behind schedule,” Condi admitted, “but my palace is nearly done.” She pointed to a giant palace that everyone was busy at work on. She then spotted something. “What is that? Syrians are getting in here! I thought you killed all the terrorist, Buck!”
“Well, I got all I could find here, but there’s more that keep coming in from Syria.”
“Then you go into Syria and you kill everyone thinking of coming into Iraq,” Condi commanded, “There are some nice Jewish boys in Israel who can probably help you with that.”
“Can’t I get a nap first and then kill all bad people,” Buck asked. Chomps whimpered, him being so tired he barely looked angry.
Condi rolled her eyes. “Fine. Take a quick nap and then invade Syria.”
“Can I stop sitting on this barrel?” asked the Iraqi behind her.
“When I told you to sit on that barrel I had good reason!” Condi shot back. She then looked to the people working on her palace. “More gold inlays!”
Dah!
Links of the Day
Fritz, who is probably now trying to come to grips with the fact that Arnold is going to be his governor (or not), has a great story about twins, mannequins, and respecting your customers.
I forgot to mention yesterday that John Hawkins had a great interview with David Limbaugh. He also today has a list of truths about American politics.
Dana at Note-It Posts (oh, I finally got that blog name!) has her first ever top ten list, all about our new favorite Demi-crat, Howard Dean.
One last thing – why I love Fox & Friends in the morning. Somehow the subject of ANWR comes up, and, as she usually does, E.D. Hill gets suddenly indignantly angry, talking about how the warmth from the pipes of the oil drilling helps the caribou multiply. Without missing a beat, Brian Kilmeade responds, “Yeah, when those caribou get hot pipe, they sure like to multiply.”
Frank Answers: Weak Forces, Be Like Frank, Monkey-men, and Hand Washing
Doyle S. from Moscow, Russia asks:
What happens when an easily resisted force meets an easily moved object?
Finally, an intelligent question. I believe this causes a rip in the space-time continuum or something. Fortunately, this situation is very unlikely to happen because it would involve France invading itself.
Don W. from Virginia asks:
Frank, I’m not as funny as you. How can I change that?
Drink a gallon of Windex.
NOTE: IMAO and its subsidiaries (of which there are none) are not liable for any damage done by an individual following the advice of this column.
Wesley from the starship Enterprise asks:
Since you have such a distain for monkeys, I was wondering how you felt about famous man/ape, ape/man combinations, like Tarzan or Bigfoot?
Tarzan is not a man ape; he is a man raised by apes and thus a traitor to his kind. I’m pretty sure Bigfoot is a myth, but if not, he should be killed because he is obviously part of some huge monkey conspiracy… probably involving space aliens.
I don’t like space aliens either.
Denny from Montenegro writes:
On Sept. 23 I heard a report on NPR about hand washing (http://www.npr.org/features/feature.php?wfId=1440436). The report was based upon research done by spies in airport bathrooms. They commented that 20% of women and 30% of men don’t wash their hands. I find this disgusting but a listener mail read on NPR yesterday, Sept. 25, brought to the table a good point. That is, “person uses restroom, person turns on faucet with soiled hands, soil is deposited on faucet, person washes hands, person once again touches faucet, soil is re-deposited on persons hand. What has been accomplished?” So, Frank, what has been accomplished?
Washing ones hands after using the restroom is of cultural significance. It shows that we have higher standards of cleanliness than filthy animals such as the capybara or the Frenchman. When you refuse to wash your hands, you distance yourself from the standards of man and chip away at your own humanity.
What is accomplished, you ask? Why everything. From advanced technology, putting man in space, to medicine that lengthens our lives; this is all symbolized in the act of washing our hands. We once lived in caves, but now we have faucets in our bathrooms and for good reason.
Then again, perhaps the push to always wash your hands after going to the bathroom is just a conspiracy by Big Water to keep people using their product. Damn you, water utilities!
Please keep the questions coming, <a href=”mailto:THISISSPAMTHISISSPAMace you’re from, I’ll randomly select one.