Archive of entries posted on May 2004

In My World: War of the Worlds Part II

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Part I

“Damn for’ners hiding in religious sites,” Buck the Marine grumbled. He then stuck his head up from his cover. “Have respect for your own religion!”
He ducked at the response.
“Permission to attack the mosque with extreme prejudice, sir” Buck said into his radio.
“Permission denied,” his commanding officer answered.
“How about moderate prejudice, sir?”
“No. I don’t want to get yelled at again. Hold position and try not to get shot.”
Suddenly a UFO flew overhead and destroyed the mosque with a laser. Reporter soon flocked around the area with cameras.
“Wasn’t me!” Buck called out, “Honest!”

“I will continue to destroy symbols of the American President’s religion in vengeance for his subterfuge against me,” Xanax announced angrily on T.V., “That is, until he meets with me personally to negotiate earth’s surrender. Muh ha ha ha!”
“So you told him you are Muslim?” Condi asked Bush.
“Yeah, aliens are stupid,” Bush said. He then picked up a copy of New York Times. “I can’t believe with an impending alien attack they’re still leading with Abu Grahib. At least we finally found some WMD’s in Iraq; maybe that will help me in the polls… if humanity isn’t destroyed, I mean. So, any new plans to attack the aliens?”
“Well, we were going to attack the mothership with nuclear missiles,” Condi answered, “but then we saw a big sign on the side that says, ‘Invulnerable to Nuclear Missiles’.”
“Dammit!” Bush yelled. “So, Rumsfeld, do you have any ideas.”
Rumsfeld snored.
“Dammit times two!” Bush exclaimed, “He’s taking his afternoon nap. You know how cranky he’ll be if we try and wake him.”
“We need more time to form a plan,” Condi said.
“Well, maybe we can fool Xanax again to stall him,” Bush mused, “but how…”
Chomps then walked up to Bush holding out a gun in his mouth and wagging his tail.
“Aww, isn’t that cute,” Bush said, “Chomps wants to play ‘Murder the Hippies’.” A thought then struck Bush like a baseball bat to a jack-o-lantern. He turned to Condi. “Do we have any three-piece suits… in rottweiler size?”

“So where are we?” Jacques Chirac asked his aide.
“We are in a place the stupid Americans call ‘Arizona’,” the aide answered.
“But we must get to New York to surrender humanity before those vile Americans have a chance to save it!” Chirac declared.
“But how will we get there in time?” the aide asked.
“To the surrender mobile!”

“Finally, I get to meet the earth’s angriest president face to face,” Xanax laughed, but then looked at the president more closely. “But why does this human walk on four legs unlike the others? And why is his entire face covered in dark follicles of hair unlike other humans? And he seems much angrier than other humans.” Xanax then stared at the president even more closely. “Very much angrier.”

“The president will pay for this!” Xanax swore as the cell door closed on Scott McClellan and Chomps.
Scott looked to Chomps. “I guess we’ll have to get out of this one together.”
Chomps turned to Scott and started growling.

“Help! Help!” came a scream over the radio in the war room.
“Who is this?” Bush demanded.
“It’s Scott!”
“You’re still around?” Bush chuckled, “I thought the aliens would have vaporized you by now.”
“I’m stuck in a cell with Chomps and he’s trying to kill me!” Scott yelled.
“Well, there’s nothing else in the room for him to kill,” Bush answered, “What do you expect?”
“Please help me!”
“Fine,” Bush grumbled and then hit a switch to talk to Chomps’s hidden communicator. “Calm down, doggie. Nice doggie.” Bush heard even more ferocious snarling in response. Bush switched back to Scott’s communicator. “Apparently hearing voices in his head makes Chomps even angrier.”
“You have to help me! I don’t know how much long…”
Bush turned off the communication system. “So what’s next, Condi?”
“I think Xanax is going to be really mad after how Chomps nearly tore him apart,” she said.
Bush thought for a moment. “Don’t worry. I have a new plan so great that there is no way it could fail– No way at all– Even though I thought of it.”

“What’s that I hear?” Zatoichi asked, “sounds like a tubby man hanging from a light fixture and squealing while a ferocious dog in a tuxedo tries to bite him.”
“Close, old chap,” Tony Blair answered, “The dog is actually in a three-piece suit.”
“Why are you guys here?” Scott asked as he took a momentary break from squealing.
“Well, your president had this plan,” Blair answered, “and, needless to say, it didn’t quite work – no reason to go into the details – so here we are, the Prime Minister of Britain and a blind samurai. Cheerio.”
“Can you help stop Chomps from trying to kill me?” Scott asked.
Blair looked at the snarling dog for a moment. “Afraid I’m going to have to say no to that one.”
“Ha ha! Dog so want to bite chubby man!” Ichi laughed.
“That is pretty funny,” Blair chuckled, “Anyway, we need to put our heads together to stop these aliens. I’m sure between my British wit, Ichi’s samurai skills, Chomps’s anger, and Scott’s… uh… tubbiness, we can find a way out of this cell and show these nasty invaders what for!” Blair checked his watch. He then walked to the little window to the cell’s door and called out, “I don’t know if you hideous alien guards are aware of the Geneva Convention, but it’s tea time.”

“Enough tricks!” Xanax shouted, once again having taken over the airwaves. “The American President will meet with me personally or, instead of enslaving you puny humans, I will destroy your pitiful planet! Muh ha ha ha!”
“I really am getting annoyed at this guy interrupting my favorite T.V. shows,” Bush declared, “It’s time for drastic action. But, do we having anything we can fight aliens with?”
“We might have something,” Condi answered.
“What?”
Condi leaned forward towards Bush, placing her palms on the war room table and staring Bush right in the eyes. “The Republican Attack Machine!”
TO BE CONCLUDED…

Can’t Afford to Lose the Nut Vote

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John Hawkins has yet more craziness from Democratic Underground and then also points out the site is linked to by the official John Kerry blog. Now, Democratic Underground is fun for a few chuckles, but no one should link to them seriously. Even a short glance at their forum reveals the site to be haven for loony hatemongers. Having a supporting link to them is like having a supporting link to the KKK or Neo-Nazis (or even Paleo-Nazis). I think it’s our duty as concerned Americans to hammer Kerry on this. If he’s afraid that submitting to reason may lose him the nut vote, he can always tell those muckadoos, “I linked to Democratic Underground before I delinked it.”

Frank Answers: AOL CD Collection, Point Nine Repeating, the Zionist Sky, Net Weight, and Do You Apes Want to Live Forever?

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Back by popular demand, it’s Frank Answers™! I was going to quietly retire this feature as I thought it wasn’t that funny, but apparently lots of people like it. Well, there was a huge backlog of questions, and here are the definitive answers to some.

SarahK writes:
At my apartment complex’s community mailboxes, someone has placed a plastic bag on the wall, and above the bag is a sign asking for donations of AOL CDs, begging people to donate them rather than trashing them. In light of your recent comments about same, I believe these “donations” will be used against you. How should I, a faithful ronin, proceed?
I’m a simple man; I destroy what I don’t understand.
I do not understand this.
Destroy! Destroy!
Mac Diddy from Suburbia, VA writes:
When one comes across the decimal .9999999, in which 9 repeats for ever and ever and ever, many people, including my terminally confused math teacher, believe that it is equivalent to one (1).
That would imply that at one point, a mathematician said “screw it” and decided that instead of the number growing forever closer to one and never quite reaching it, it in fact stopped and rounded itself up.
Now, since this is not true for other repeating decimals (for example,
.88888888 never has to become .8888888889), it makes me think that the only reason so many seem to think that 1.0 and .99999999 are equivalent is that we work with a base-ten number system, and it’s difficult to imagine infinite growth of a number without it ever getting somewhere.
(And yes, I am aware that there is a method by which .9999999 can be reduced to one by multiplying it by ten and then by one and subtracting the difference and then finding the quotient of that number and nine, however, I think that the method is flawed, and that .99999999 is in fact an irrational number, making the repitant decimal rule void for irrational numbers.)
So, whatcha think? Can I rightfully call my math teacher an idiot, while at the same time changing the definition of math as we do now behold it?
The way it was explained to me that 0.9 repeating (referred to hereafter as 0.9999…) is equal to one is that 1/3 is equal to .3333… and three times 1/3 equals one, so three times 0.3333… which is 0.9999… must also equal one.
But this is false.
0.3333… is actually one infinitesimal away from equaling one third, thus three times it would be three infinitesimals away from one. The reason that mathematicians say 0.9999… is equal to one is because they are lazy as evidence by their uncombed hair and how they wear shorts throughout the entire year.
Do not let your math teacher get away with this falsehood! Next time he says that .9999… equals one, stand up, point your finger at him, yell, “Liar!”, and then walk out of the classroom.
Only you can prevent bad math.
Jason H. from Austin, Texas, writes:
Frank, have you noticed that the sky is blue with white clouds and the Israeli flag is white with blue stripes? Could it be possible that every time the Muslims look up they are reminded of the “Zionist conspiracy in the sky” and that’s why they are so angry? Just wonderin’, yo.
Who do you think determined the color of the sky in the first place?
That’s right: the joooos!
Always keep thine eyes at the ground – which is free from joooo tampering – lest thou be drawn into their conspiracies. And, no matter how loud a sound you hear, never look up. That what they want you to do!
Jooooooos!
:: shakes fist ::
Brian T. from Dallas, Texas, writes:
I live in Dallas, Texas. I am in a bad way and I am seeking your advice. There is a Halliburton plant near my house and when I drive to the gun store I see these turds. However I had to stop at the light right in front of them. I drive a 2003 F-250 and they harassed me about “blood for oil”. I responded by asking them if their gas was any cheaper, and stopped bothering me. A week later one of the more violent hippies kicked my truck when I was stopped at the light. I then grabbed my law enforcement jumbo sized (it looks like a small fire extinguisher) and hosed his smelly carcass down. Now I catch hell all the time…so what should I do? Should i counter-protest i.e. “Honk if you hate hippies”, or “Honk if you love IMAO”?
P.S. Yeah, I already thought about running them down with my big truck, but I think the D.A. would have a hard time believing my self defense claim.
I like your asking the hippies if gas prices are cheaper. While that is entertaining to us, using logic against hippies only confuses and enrages them. Spraying them, much like a skunk sprays predators to teach them to leave him alone, was a better method. The problem is that hippies already smell worse than a skunk and are much dumber, so multiple applications of different sprays will be necessary. Try pepper spray and eventually move up to acid. While the hippies will never logically understand that bothering you is bad, their small hippy minds will eventually scream, “Truck bad!” anytime you drive by, and you’ll see them crouch down in a corner cowering.
Or you could just not be such a wussy and run them over. If you get people like Hank Hill on your jury, “They were hippies,” would be a legitimate defense.
Dr. J asks:
So, when will I be able to get my IMAO “Nuke the Moon” VISA card?
I don’t know. How do I get my own special credit cards and how much money would I get from that venture?
BTW, I like any new ideas that get me money as I like money. Oh, and buy my t-shirts.
Uncle Frome from the People’s State of California writes:
OK, I’ve got a combined math & ethics question for you: Can 8+1 ever equal 10? Where I work, the owner sells a 10 lb. (gross weight) box of product, and only puts 8 lbs. of product in it. He even has it say “Net Wt. 8lbs.” on the bottom of the box, as justification of his actions. The hitch is that the box only weighs 1.1 pounds. I can’t believe our customers haven’t weighed an empty box yet, but I have to think it’s a matter of time. I told the boss that this was wrong, that he was cheating people, but he tried to justify it by saying that our competitors cheat their customers, so we have to as well to remain competitive. By that logic, we should start sawing off the heads of our Taliban and Iraqi prisoners with kitchen knives, because they are doing it, right?
All I know, is that if I go to the store and buy a 12-pack of beer and then get home only to find 11 beers in the box, I’m upset and I won’t ever shop at that store again. So can 8+1 ever equal 10? And am I correct in thinking that this is wrong, that our customers are being cheated? Or has the Kerry campaign found a way to disrupt the balance of good & evil in the universe and I should just keep my mouth shut and hope they don’t turn their “ethical adjuster ray” on me? I would really like to hear your thoughts on the matter. Thanks.
Come on; do you think the customers would be happier if they got a two pound box?
I would take this as a learning experience: never trust anyone. They are all out to screw you. Thus, screw them first.
And always check the net weight.
Jason writes:
I was watching Starship Troopers last night and there is line in the movie that goes “Come on you apes, you want to live forever.” My question is this, If not in engage in some kind of mortal combat w/ giant bugs, do apes live forever? Also are apes as bad as monkeys? Also how do you feel about the idea that only people who serve in the Military are allowed to be citizens?
Actually, I’m in the middle of reading the novel Starship Troopers as my brother told me it’s much different from the movie. The book opens with quoting that phrase and crediting to an unknown platoon sergeant from 1918. He must have subscribed to the theory that humans should be placed in the same Family as the Great Apes… or he was just trying to make his platoon angry. And, it’s good to be angry when you’re going to be killing people. Just try killing someone when not angry. Quod Erat Demonstrandum.
Andy Roopinschickenstein from Toronto asks:
Why do my lights go out when I put a gum wrapper in an electrical socket?
Because you live in Canada. Crazy canucks always sticking things in their electrical sockets. Just don’t cause a power grid failure down here again.
Ann, Salt Lake City
My sister, in an odd mood, was trying to put a toy cooking pot on my head, claiming it would turn me into a monkey. I replied, naturally enough, that I don’t want to be a monkey, and she said, “Come on, everybody wants to be a monkey!” I’m very disturbed… What should I do?
It’s always hard when you have to commit a sister, but, no matter what her age, it shows extreme insanity to want to be a monkey. Luckily, electroshock therapy has been proven to cause increased distaste from monkeys. Even though scientists still aren’t sure how it works, putting an electrical pulse through the brain increases monkey hatred. Though this will be distressing to your sister at first, in the end she will be happier… or, if not happier, at least hate monkeys, i.e., be hatier.

Please keep the questions coming (I would especially like more science and math questions), <a href=”mailto:THISISSPAMTHISISSPAMace you’re from, I’ll randomly select one.

Lunch Break

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I did it; it’s working. So, I’m taking an actual lunch break at work (mmm… Taco Bell and Mountain Dew LiveWire). Yesterday, a commenter suggested I do a new Michael Moore letter, so here it is:

Dear Michael Moore,
You’re fat and ugly. Please do something about that.
Cordially,
Frank J.
P.S. Shave.

BTW, I think Moore should take the advice from the last guy on this page.
I have a new advertiser – the blog Free Will. After you’re done here, go check him out. He has the nearly not work safe picture of John Kerry’s daughter from Cannes. Nice eye-candy, but that won’t help him with the image of being a regular family guy.
Also, Right Wing Stuff is back for another month as an advertiser. Go check out their large selection of t-shirts and other merchandise.
I’ve gotten some good feedback from advertiser’s on my click-thru rates. Please check out each of my advertisers at least once to keep that up.
There’s two great articles on National Review Online today. One is from Michael Rubin about the rise of anti-semitism as of late in the West, and the other is from Derbyshire about our real enemy.
I’m aiming for Friday for the continuation of Monday’s IMW. As for tomorrow… who knows? Any requests?
Later, ronin.
UPDATE: BlogAds is having a survey about blog readers. Make sure to tell them IMAO sent you.
UPDATE II: Here’s a Ted Rall meets Chomps cartoon. Maybe I should get mad about someone using my character without permission… but it’s funny.

More on Music

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Thanks for the music advice so far. What I’m really looking for are what are some good albums to buy (ones that don’t have one or two worthwhile songs). BTW, what I have now is the Atomship album advertised on my site and I picked up from Best Buy yesterday Nirvana’s Nevermind, P.O.D.’s Sattellite, Shinedown’s Leave a Whisper (the newer albums are cheaper, and I can resist a song named “.45”), and the Matrix Reloaded Soundtrack (it’s two disc, the first being songs from Marilyn Manson, P.O.D., Rage Against the Machine, etc. and the second the orchestrated soundtrack to the movie). Soundtracks to movies seem to be a good way to get a mix of music; any reccomendations there? Orchestrated soundtracks to me are good for when I’m reading and writing, but I want rock for work.
What I’m already planning on getting is some stuff from Offspring, the Beatles, The Doors, Mettalica (what’s their best album?), and Johnny Cash (I grew up listening to my dad play that).
Again, any specific album suggestions would be really appreciated. You readers rock!

Frank Advice: Reaction Time

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Been a little out of the loop lately on politics lately. Hopefully I should fix that soon, but, until then, why don’t I comment on something social instead of political.
I’d like to talk about reaction time. When there is a sudden occurrence, you don’t react immediately; instead there is a delay between when something happens and your brain realizes it and reacts. That’s reaction time.
Now, here’s a hypothetical: you’re going eighty miles per hour as is the car in front of you, but your only three feet behind that car. If the driver of the car in front of you has to hit his breaks, will you be able to react in time?
No… SO GET OFF MY ASS!
Some people do not understand this concept… and probably won’t even after the front of their car has been compacted like an accordion. These people are morons. Apparently, morons are in big hurries. Why, I don’t know; what kind of place could be in dire and immediate need of morons?
Hey, I’m all for going into the right lane and letting the guy behind me pass since fifteen miles over apparently isn’t enough for him, but sometime that isn’t possible or wouldn’t achieve anything.
Here’s some info that must be quite new to some people: just because I’m a decent distance behind the person in front of me doesn’t mean I’m going any slower. Actually, I’m matching the speed of that car, but, recognizing I have a “reaction time”, I keep a proper following distance. Apparently, though, when some people see a gap ahead of the car in front of him, he says to himself, “This car goes slow. Me pass. Me go fast.” And thus the driver precariously weaves in and out of the slower traffic in the right lane to get ahead of me, now going the exact same speed again but a few yards ahead of me in the line of cars. So, by risking his life and others and expending much gas in the acceleration, he’s knocked approximately 10ms off his commute time. Congratu-f**king-lations!
Even worse, though, is when I have some idiot within inches of my bumper as we’re both speeding on the highway, so I go into the right lane… AND HE DOESN’T GO ANY FASTER! Ends up he was driving that close not because he wanted to go any faster, but just because HE’S A RETARD! One of these days, I’m going to slam on my breaks and let my rear bumper collide with his empty skull.
Anyway, as we all know, cars have horns. They’re great for when someone cuts you off (though by the time I think of hitting the horn, the moment has past – again, reaction time). What America really needs is rear car horns. When someone is right up next to me, I want to blast him in the face with the loudest noise possible. Or hit him with an oil slick like with that car in Spy Hunter. It’s all good.
In conclusion: GET OFF MY ASS!
Thank you.

Work Will Set You Free

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Almost through the heavy spot in work. While I’m blogging less you can check out this new blog from Laurence Simon of the now defunct Amish Tech Support: Ted Rall Is Full of Crap (thanks to Right Wing News for pointing me to it). My opinion is that Ted Rall should be ignored, but Laurence makes not ignoring him so much fun!
BTW, Tuesday is new DVD day, and I found out today is the re-release of my all-time favorite movie (and, according to a sticker on the cover, Quentin Tarantino’s favorite too), fully-restored with added footage: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. The deleted scenes were in the Italian dub (which I had on my previous, now inferior DVD version), so they actually got Clint Eastwood and Eli Wallach (who, in my eyes, is the star of the movie) to redub the new scenes. Have it front of me now, as I stopped by Best Buy on the way home to pick it up. Sweeeet!
Also, I’ve now decided to start making a legal music collection to listen to at work. Any reccomendations, new groups and old? I like rock – none of that pansy-ass pop crap – and I’m trying to hone in on what are some good albums to start with.
Later, ronin.

Frank Political Predicitons: The Discovery of WMD’s

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So, I like heard we found WMD’s in Iraq or something. To be honest, I had completely forgot we were even looking for those. Amongst rebuilding Iraq, fighting insurgents, the Abu Grahib scandal, and Nick Berg’s death I guess the search for WMD’s got lost in the shuffle. When it came on the news yesterday, I didn’t even know what it stood for. “Is that a type of lubricant?”
Anyway, I’m too busy to watch the news to find out the fallout of this, but I’ll just use my magical powers of political punditry to predict what will happen.
THE POLITICAL FALLOUT OF THE DISCOVERY OF WMD’S IN IRAQ
* All critics of George W. Bush will admit how wrong they are and send Bush a written apology. Bush will also get letters for Santa Claus from some confused children.
* Foreign countries will now declare themselves fools for doubting American and vow to be more American and less foreign. All anti-Americans left will be jailed as insane and given excessive electroshock therapy.
* In a desperate move to stop Bush, John Kerry will steal all the WMD’s that were found. When the cops close in on him, he’ll hide the stolen WMD’s in his face.
* With Bush’s new popularity, Michael Moore will go on an eating binge (somewhat distinguishable from his normal eating habits) and will have one donut too many causing him to implode and suck Cannes into a sweaty, unshaven singularity.
* The destruction of Michael Moore and Cannes will get a standing ovation.
* Ted Rall will make an offensive comic about WMD’s to try and get some attention for himself. It will be denounced throughout the blogosphere and noticed by no one else.
* At the mere mention of WMD’s, France will declare an unconditional surrender to whoever will claim it first.
* No one will claim it.
* Seeing how great George W. Bush and the Republicans are, the Democratic Party will move out of the political business and instead go into catering.
* The Iraqi insurgents will decide they have gone too far and will now stop fighting Americans and instead vow to work hard with them to improve Iraq’s future.
* We’ll kill the insurgents anyway. Don’t f**k with us.
* The remaining terrorists will be overrun by monkeys who will steal their WMD’s. Damn you, terrorists, you’ve doomed us all! Damn you!
* Because of the accuracy of my predictions, I will be hailed as a genius and worshipped as a god. Religious service will be in the afternoon because I don’t like to get up early.

Guess Where I’m Blogging From

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I’m still at work, taking a little break while I wait for something to compile. Anyway, I’m still going to be real busy this week, so I’m just going to try to put out something new each morning and probably no extras until further notice.
Anyhoo, Darth Emperor Misha I has a nice rant about a scandal I heard about while groggily catching the news this morning. I’d comment about it, but no time!
Oh, and everyone get working on your Peace Gallery photos since you should have your Nuke the Moon shirt by now.
Back to work…

In My World: War of the Worlds

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“There are those who say I flip-flop,” John Kerry said at a rally, “and I will say firmly that they are probably not correct.”
The audience cheered for a moment, but was then stunned silent. Kerry then turned around to see hovering craft destroying the building behind him with lasers.
“Jeeves! What is that?” Kerry demanded.
“Appears to be alien attack craft, sir,” Kerry’s butler answered.
“During my rally!” Kerry yelled angrily, “Do they know who I am!”
A laser blast blew up the stage sending him flying through the air.
“Apparently not, sir.”

“Oh, they’re all such good singers,” Bush whined, “I don’t know who to vote for as American Idol!”
Suddenly the image of Simon Cowell was replaced with the hideous visage of an alien being. It had a large green head, bug eyes, and long, sharp, needle-like teeth.
“Ahh! I’m not voting for that guy!” Bush exclaimed.
“I am the evil alien warlord Xanax,” it announced, “Puny beings of earth – especially your masters, the Americans – heed my warning: surrender now or be destroyed.”
“Why does everything have to happen during my presidency,” Bush grumbled.

“I’ve called this emergency meeting in this war room because of the alien attack,” Bush announced.
“Well, duh,” Condi remarked.
“I remember that in Independence Day a president dealt with a similar situation,” Bush said, “and defeated the aliens by connecting to their mothership with a Mac computer and giving it a computer virus. So, is anyone here a Mac user?”
No one raised a hand.
“Dammit!” Bush exclaimed, “Guess we’ll have to use a different strategery.”
Out of the shadows emerged the hooded figure of Karl Rove. “Defeating this alien menace could improve your poll numbers,” Rove stated, “While failing to defeat them could mean the end of humanity.”
“I have seen the poll numbers,” Bush said, “and it almost unanimous that the American people do not want to be enslaved. Why, the ‘No the Blood for the Salvation of Humanity’ protest out front of the White House only got about a hundred participants. Let’s see what are military has to say about this.” Bush put General Abizaid on speaker phone. “We need some troops to take on these aliens.”
“Oh, it’s the military to the rescue once again,” Abizaid said angrily, “We’re already handling Afghanistan and Iraq; can’t you jokers handle one alien invasion yourself?”
“But they’re scary looking!” Bush complained.
“And you’re a little pansy,” Abizaid answered.
“I’ll show you!” Bush yelled, “I’ll handle these aliens all by myself.” He hung up the phone. “Guess we’re on our own. Zatoichi, you’re a blind samurai; you must have some idea how to fight invading aliens.”
“The alien’s support is all behind their leader,” Ichi answered, “If we defeat him, they will be dishonored and leave.”
“Sounds like a place to start,” Bush stated, “So, Rumsfeld, you’re always violent and angry; any ideas on how to defeat the alien warlord?”
“I don’t like this sci-fi crap,” Rumsfeld growled, “Let’s just all grab a brick, smash their heads in, and then go to a bar and get some whiskey. First round is on me.”
“So capture their leader or smash their heads in with bricks,” Bush thought out loud. He was interrupted by the phone ringing. Bush looked at the caller ID. “Dammit, it’s Kofi Anan.” He answered the phone. “What do you want, Coffee?”
“We were negotiating with Xanax, and he is very reasonable,” Kofi answered, “If we agree to surrender, he says he’ll make us leaders work slaves on the nice asteroids.”
“I’m not working on any asteroid,” Bush said angrily.
“Well, Chirac is planning on representing earth in an official surrender to Xanax,” Kofi said, “and you know how adamant the French are about their surrendering.”
“Well, you tell him to hold on or we’ll smash his head in with a brick,” Bush threatened and then hung up the phone. “We can’t let that weasely Chirac surrender earth for us! I won’t be the first president to have humanity enslaved by aliens… and the last.”

“It’s is I, the weasely, foul smelling President of France,” Chirac announced as he entered the U.N. conference.
“Excellent,” Xanax hissed, “Now just sign the papers enslaving all of humanity. And make sure to initial where marked… and do it quickly as the notary public is only here until five.”
Chirac stood near the paper and bent over it ready to sign, but then he stopped. “I don’t think I will sign this.” Chirac stood up and faced Xanax. He then ripped off his mask to reveal he was in fact President Bush. “Instead, I’m going to give you and old-fashioned Texas ass-whup’n!” Bush put on a
“It’s the American President!” Xanax exclaimed angrily.
“And you misunderestimated me!” Bush answered, putting on a cowboy hat and going into a whup’n stance.
A number of alien guards armed with laser rifles rushed out and surrounded Bush. “Did you think it would be that easy!” laughed Xanax, “I’ve conquered many worlds before – some of them inhabited – and you’re simple ‘whup’n’ is no match for my alien technology!”
“Should have gone with the brick idea,” Bush grumbled.

“We surrender to you, our evil alien master!” Chirac yelled as he bowed down.
“My name is Ed, and this my gas station.”
Chirac stood back up. “Are you sure you’re not an evil alien overlord.”
“Pretty sure.”
“That Bush has gotten between me and surrender for the last time!” Chirac swore, “The France has wanted to surrender the whole world since its existence, and I will finally see it through and no one can stop me!”
“So are you going to buy some gas or not?”

“Now that the stupid American president is prisoner on our mothership,” Xanax said as Bush was tossed into a cell, “The world will lose its will to resist and easily fall. Muh ha ha ha!”
The cell door was shut, and the Xanax and the guards walked off. “You may think you captured the stupid America president,” Bush said, and then took off his mask. “But you’ve actually captured his gullible Press Secretary.” Scott McClellan then spoke into his hidden communications device. “Tubby is in the donut factory. I repeat: Tubby is in the donut factory.”
“Good job, Scott,” Bush answered.
“So what’s next?”
“Oh… well… uh… plans are fluid at this moment.”
“You don’t have plans, do you?” Scott exclaimed.
“Well, we figured for whatever plans we are going to have, getting someone on the mothership is a good start. So what do you see?”
“The walls of my cell!” Scott answered with annoyance.
“We’ll start with that. So… you wouldn’t happen to have a nuclear device on you, would you?”
“No!”
“Did you check all your pockets?”
“Yes!”
“Well, Scott, hang in there. We’re going to work tirelessly on a plan to get you out.” There was a pause for a moment. “Yeah, Scott is pretty much screwed, Condi. So, do you want to play foosball? –What? The mike is still on? How do I turn it off. Do I hit this button. Whoops! I think that launched missiles. Well hopefully no one will notice with the alien attack– Oh, so it’s this button to turn off the…”
TO BE CONTINUED…