Hello, RightWingDuck here,
and it’s time for those Predictions for 2005.
See, I’ve always been gifted with prophecy. This last election, I predicted that California would vote Democrat, that Utah would vote Republican, and that CNN would be publishing their voter guide – Reasons to Vote Kerry.
So without further delay, let me look into my crystal ball and share with you some of the exciting changes coming in 2005.
Tara Reid will walk the red carpet at an award show and be horribly embarrassed that her clothes stayed on.
Michael Moore will suffer a stroke and recover. He will be so excited about life that he’ll create a series of workout videos like Richard Simmons. The videos will feature occasional snippets of President Bush playing golf.
John Edwards will suffer from a very nasty chemical reaction from bad hair care products. He will then go on to endorse a new line of Hair Products called “Recount”.
Jessica Simpson and, uh — that other guy, will go through a divorce. Launching a new series for Jessica — the Divorcee.
Michael Jackson will regain his fame with the Broadway hit, Alexander the Great — the Musical! Kids will get in free.
Rock Group King Missile, who once performed the hit, Detachable Penis, will perform for the UN and create a new hit — Detachable Backbone.
Puppy Blender Glenn Reynolds will announce his love for Debbie Reynolds. Indeed.
In celebration, he will add another ‘n’ to his name.
Andrew Sullivan claims he will support Glenn-n but only if he will concede that Gay Marriage is good.
Sullivan will reveal to the world that he has a secret crush on Groundskeeper Willie.
P. Diddy, (formerly Puff Daddy) will change his name to Gotta P.
When people see him, they’ll be so excited they’ll do a little dance.
Koffi Annan will announce his retirement and start a small business in the Cayman Islands with his son. For some reason, a small percentage of his inventory will disappear each month.
“Koju, have you seen it?”
” No dad, I gotta go. I’m off to buy a new bike.”
Al Gore will meet with an embarrassing accident. While at a Lumber Company protest, he will be mistaken for a tree.
India will undergo a dramatic cultural revolution when they discover that Hamburgers are delicious.
Bill Clinton will star in a series of Infommercials. He will receive fame and fortune for his new line of stain removers.
The ACLU will file a suit against Santa Claus saying that his Naughty/Nice list is an extension of the Patriot Act.
A computer virus will strike the world’s computers — morphing them into full grown elephants.
This will be taken by Democrats as a sign of the apocalypse.
The four horsemen of the apocalypse will begin their ride. They will be promptly shot down by a Federal Air Marshall. Or we think, he will be very neatly dressed and not in any ‘official’ uniform.
The ACLU will sue the Air Marshall for denying the horsemen their civil rights.
It will be revealed that Aquaman can only swim by using those little arm floaties
Paris Hilton will be shunned by her family when she gets caught videotaping another sex scene — at a Holiday Inn!!
Panic will ensue in Paris, France when American tourists assume that there must be thousands of dead bodies everywhere. Turns out they were just confused by the smell.
Michael Moore will be attacked by a very jealous, very angry Richard Simmons.
Muslim Terrorist will overtake CNN and begin broadcasting. Three days later, the first viewer notices.
Five days later the first complaint is filed.
**
Okay Readers. Your turn.
What are your predictions for 2005?
BTW, RightWingDuck will be hosting its first ever caption contest. Make sure you drop bylater today. Prizes and everything.

(A Guest Post by Harvey of Bad Example)
One of my blogdaughters, Tammi of Road Warrior Survival, recently had her mother go to the emergency room. She’s ok, but she’s going to be in the hospital for a few days.
I’d like to send her prayers, but I’m religiously “none of the above”, and every time I try to pray, I get struck by lightning for my heathenly blaspheming.
So, I’ll have to do the next best thing and try to cheer her up with these:

FUN FACTS ABOUT HOSPITALS
Hospitals are large buildings full of sickly people and machines with flashy lights that go “ping”.
As are casinos.
The difference being that NOBODY leaves a hospital with more money than they came in with.
Unless they screwed the doctors over on a few games of 3 Card Monty.
If you’re not sure whether you’re in a casino or a hospital, light up a cigar and see if you get yelled at.
If you have a disease, you should immediately go to the hospital so that you can contract a more virulent one.
Not all buildings with doctors in them are hospitals. Some are golf course clubhouses.
Again, if you’re not sure, light up a cigar.
Michael Jackson is NOT a doctor. Don’t let him examine you!
For free.
If you’re in a hospital and your heart machine flatlines, try defibrillating yourself a few times before bugging the nurses. Nobody likes a hypochondriac.
In a fight between Aquaman and a hospital, the outcome would depend on the cunning and ferocity of Aquaman’s insurance company.
If a hospital bites you, you become one, after which you must let doctors inside of you, even if you aren’t getting a prostate exam.
Hospitals are required by law to treat everyone who comes through their doors, whether they have insurance or not. That’s why 90% of hospitals are surrounded by shark-infested moats.
The other 10% rely on minefields & barbed wire.
The most common ailments treated by hospitals are heart attacks, strokes, and shark bites.
The English word “hospital” comes from the French word hospitale, which means “we surrender”.
As do most French words.
Monkeys don’t use hospitals. If a monkey gets sick, its fellow tribe-monkeys turn on him and tear him apart while accusing elephants of causing the disease in the first place.
Much like Democrats.
The first hospitals were dank, run-down places where the sickly poor went to die. Modern hospitals are clean, efficient, well-lit places filled with cutting-edge medical technology, where the sickly poor go to die broke.
Doctors wear white coats to symbolize the purity of their souls, which are untouched by such human failings as sympathy, compassion, or mercy.
Wait… I was thinking of those bean-counting trolls in Accounts Receivable… Nevermind.
Traditional nurse’s garb consists of a short white dress, white stockings, and a tiny white cap, none of which serve any practical purpose other than enticing men who have a fetish for that sort of thing.
About which I know nothing, so don’t look at me like that.
Unless you’re wearing a nurse’s outfit.
Hospitals are full of sick people, and therefore must adhere to the highest standards of cleanliness and sanitation, which doesn’t explain why hospital janitors tend to make Groundskeeper Willie look like Mr. Rogers.
Every patient admitted to a hospital is given a backless gown called a “johnny”, the purpose of which is to allow easy removal for patient examinations and also to allow the hospital staff to indulge their chronic ass-fetishes.
About which I ALSO know nothing.
Anyone with video evidence to the contrary is cordially invited to shut the hell up!.
Not all hospitals are the same. Some specialize in particular areas of expertise, such as heart surgery or roulette.
Wait… I might be thinking of casinos…
[lights cigar]
Anyway, this should help comfort those with recent hospital experiences.
If you’d like to thank me, please post a picture of yourself wearing a nurse’s outfit in the comments.

[ A post by guest blogger RightWingDuck]
Who you calling Stingy?
When you first heard of this United Nation’s Twerp calling us stingy, you probably had one of 3 reactions.
“You’ll take our Buck Fifty and like it.”
“Who gives a crap what the United Nations thinks of us?”
“Are we paying your salary to ‘diss’ us, you ungrateful beyotch?”
Sure, the United Nations does a lot of good work. Like, um. Like supporting all those manufacturers of Blue helmets and meddlin’ in Saddam’s ass kicking! On the other hand, they are a very family oriented organization. Every day is Take Your Son to Work day, for Koffi that is — his son is skimming along nicely.
So while surfing I came across this post at Outside the Beltway. It has a chart showing the humanitarian aid given by different nations.
At first I thought, “Hey, we’re in ninth.” Then I looked at the numbers and realized that we gave craploads more money than anyone else. How could this be? Then is saw that it was humanitarian aid Per Capita. Actually, we gave less per day, per person than Norway.
My first reaction of course was to attack Norway. But that means dead Norwegees and that of course means their numbers per capita would only improve. That is so not fair!
Now, how can IMAO readers be such stingy MoFos?
Well, personally, I spend all my money on Frank J T-shirts and CD’s. Not the real stuff, that’s expensive. I bought the cheap knock offs they sell here in the Beverly Hills boutiques.
But there are a few ways to improve these numbers — dramatically.
My favorite solution is to declare yourself your own country and give more than the number one country. Norway donates 21 cents a day. Hmm, that comes out to (RWD takes off shoes and socks) about $76 a year.
First step, Declaration of Countryhood.
“I declare myself to be a free nation. Duck-o-stan. Newly liberated from the Peoples Republic of California.”
Then you can claim your rightful place on the list of generous countries.
“I gave more money than any other country. See, a receipt for $80.00. Give me recognition!!”
If they give you any guff, don’t be shy about using the amazing power of statistics.
“I received 100% of the vote!! I have a mandate. Listen to me and reward me generously.”
If they still balk, just try physical intimidation. Resistance should be minimal. Remember, the United Nations respects France.
“See this sharp pencil? I have more deadly firepower than any other country. Per capita — that is. Fear me!”
Note. Be careful no to bump into anyone. If you hurt them, technically, you would be responsible for more death and carnage than any other leader. This would be bad — but would also qualify you for the Nobel Peace Prize.
So. You have the option of making yourself number one. Hey, don’t any of you go getting the idea of giving more than $80. Are you trying to make me look stingy? Don’t make me shake my fist at you!
But, taking a look at this logically, I have to wonder if maybe the bottom line here isn’t an image issue.
Have we not been generous and respectful of the United Nations? Could that be why they don’t think very well of us?
Let’s ask ourselves some honest questions.
When you ask United Nations officials to carry your bags — do you tip them more than $1 a bag?
Do you tip them more than $1 total?
Have you ever asked a UN official “Can you please tell me what this document says?” and the document is in English?
Have you ever told Koffi, “Tell me where Osama is hiding and I’ll give you a nickel.”?
If so, then maybe we have to take a moment, look deep inside ourselves and –Ooooh, a nickel.
What was I saying?
Oh, yeah.
Screw the United Nations.
No. Wait. Oh, yeah. Tell me, how do you think we could improve the UN’s perception of the United States? Remember, we’re all assuming that we give a damn. But I thought it might be fun.
Note: I have posted my observations on the Tsunami disaster (and the world reaction) at RightWingDuck. Visit if you like.

I’d just like to reiterate what RightWingDuck said, and give you the link to the Command Post which has a ton of links for places to donate to to help victims of the tsunami. I know this isn’t the best time of year for giving (too much credit card debt), but still try to donate what you can. I’d like to add the Salvation Army to the Command Post list whom I’ll be making a donation to.

(A Guest Post by Harvey of Bad Example)
I was over at Susie of Practical Penumbra’s blog where she was complaining about parents who leave their children at her movie theater, unsupervised, and don’t pick them up until several hours after their movies end.
This is a problem.
However, as Isaac Newton once said, “for every problem, there is an equal and opposite solution.”
Yes, I have flunked a few physics exams in my day, why?
Anyway, here are my Top Ten solutions:

10 THINGS TO DO WHEN CHILDREN HANG OUT IN YOUR LOBBY TOO LONG
10. Start every sentence with “Back when I was your age…” until they cover their ears and run out the door, screaming about how you’re too old and you just don’t understand.
9. Sell them as slave labor & help bring Nike’s factories back to the good ol’ USA!
8. To keep them from running around & making a lot of noise, turn on the giant electromagnet you probably have installed in your ceiling, which will immediately hoist the little brats up by their piercings. Let ’em dangle there. It builds character.
7. Put on tiny sunglasses and a black raincoat. Walk around offering them a choice between a red and blue pill.
6. Use them to experiment with innovative new clown-car-packing techniques.
5. Tie them up with their iPod cords and toss the little bastards into the dumpster out back. Hopefully this will teach them not to purchase proper nouns that capitalize their second letters. Trendy little punks! shakes fist
4. Launch them into space and make them watch bad movies as part of an evil scientific experiment.
3. Don’t let them leave until they’ve worked up an entire Rocky Horror treatment for The Matrix. “We’ve got to find a phone” “CASTLES DON’T HAVE PHONES!*
2. Give them swords. Tell them “There can be only ONE!”
And the number one thing to do when children hang out in your lobby too long:
[looks at watch]
Aw crap. I gotta get to work.
Can I get a little help in the comments?

(A Guest Post by Harvey of Bad Example)
I understand there was a ruckus at an airport recently, caused by something Frank J. did.
Poor SarahK.
If only Frank had been smarter, this whole thing could’ve been avoided.
As a public service to IMAO readers – because I fear that Frank’s ignorance may be contagious – I offer the following:

FUN FACTS ABOUT FLYING
Flying was invented by the Montgolfier brothers in France, when they created the first balloon, which was inflated by hot air. However, after discovering the secret of inflating things with cooler air, they invented the inflatable girlfriend and eventually died as millionaires.
The flight data recorders in airplanes are called “black boxes” despite being orange. Similarly, the
ones in the movie of the same name were predominantly pink.
In a fight between a jet airplane and Aquaman… FWOOP…brbrbrbrbrb… [red fog]
The average commercial airliner weigh 199 tons, as does the average Michael Moore.
The average commercial airliner is 231 feel long. If all the commercial airliners in the world were lined up end-to-end, you would be at O’Hare.
In the comic strip “Peanuts”, Snoopy used to sit on his doghouse while pretending he was flying a Sopwith Camel and doing battle against the Red Baron. Rumor has it that Dan Rather frequently sat on the Bush National Guard memos while making airplane noises in attempt to make THOSE fly. They both ended up riddled with holes and screaming curses.
The first solo transatlantic flight was made by Charles Lindburgh, who landed in Paris, accepted the
French’s surrender, and promptly traded them to Germany for a pint of warm beer.
By 1939, German anger at being stuck with France (and screwed out of their precious warm beer) reached such a fever pitch of frothing hatred, that either that or Hitler’s megalomania caused WWII.
Monkeys – while an obvious menace to the human race for MANY reason – do NOT possess the power of flight, despite what you may have seen in Michael Moore’s documentary, “The Wizard of Oz”.
With the exception of a cow and a wooden rabbit, there was no actual “flying” in Monty Python’s Flying Circus.
“Flying” fish don’t actually fly, either, unless they’re being served as airline food.
“Flying” squirrels DO actually fly. Or so claim Boris and Natasha.
When people fall out of bed, they frequently dream about flying in the split second before they hit the floor. I wonder if there’s any significance to my dreams about shooting Britney Spears with a squirtgun?
Because commercial airliners fly in the uppermost reaches of the Earth’s atomsphere, passengers are exposed to 50 times the normal level of gamma radiation while flying. If you are Bruce Banner, do not fly.
Jerry Garcia was the lead singer for the Grateful Dead.
If you don’t know what that last item has to do with flying, then… Congratulations! You’re NOT a filthy hippie!
Some people question whether it’s worth the extra cost to fly First Class. Of COURSE it is! For the same reason you go careening onto a gravel shoulder at 90 mph to get around some Sunday driver creepin’ along at 70! Because it’s GOOD to be in front of other people! Me need be first NOW!
Flying Nuns are ok for short trips if you tune out the obligatory in-flight sermon.
If an airplane bites you, you will be forever cursed with the power of flight.
If you are forever cursed with the power of flight, don’t give it up to impress some chick like that idiot Superman. You never know when you may have to battle General Zod.
Avoid Flying Viking Kittens at all costs lest you be taken to a Gay Bar.
If you have a pathological fear of flying, the best way to overcome it is to take long, slow, deep breaths, say to yourself repeatedly, “It’s just like riding a bus”, then chicken out and go Greyhound.
After that smelly, homeless guy sits next to you on the bus, flying won’t seem nearly as scary anymore.
I know this because I’M the smelly, homeless guy, and I’ve cured thousands.
Although all airplanes have wings, not everything with wings can fly – for example: penguins, emus, and maxi-pads.
Bats are the only mammals that can fly. Batman – while technically a mammal – can’t fly without mechanical assistance. However, he IS the reason that Aquaman fought that jet airplane, so we should cut him a little slack.
Well, that should be enough to keep Frank out of any future trouble.
Meanwhile, if you’re looking for something else to read, I posted a sequel to my Fun Facts About Christmas guest post over at my place.

Hello, Guest Blogger RightWingDuck here.
I know by now you have heard of the tidal wave and the tremendous devastation it has caused. Personally, an attorney that did consulting with my company has gone missing in Thailand. We have heard nothing at this point but are praying for him and his family.
The Command Post has a great listing of Organizations who are working to provide aid to those affected.
Please drop by and give if you can.
If you can’t – then just pray. For the victims. For their families. For the relief workers who are at work trying to separate survivors, deceased, and rubble.

Merry Christmas everyone. I’ve been meaning to do the same thing for three Christmases now, but didn’t have time so maybe it will be next year. Instead, you get a serious post. Sorry.
Today we celebrate the birth of the Prince of Peace, and thus I think it’s appropriate we step back from politics and reflect on the peace we all seek in the end. Many times in politics, we lose sight that we all share the same long term goal and focus too much on the difference in means we try to use to get there. I know I’ve done that often, and I’ve certainly seen that a lot from the other side of the political spectrum. Today, let’s pray together for the goals we all agree on: a real peace for everyone on earth.
Here’s a nice little exercise I’m going to do and I think everyone should try: take some liberal you always wanted to write a hate letter to (or, if you happy to be a liberal, a right-winger) and instead write him or her a nice letter wishing him or her well (and meaning it) and reflecting on the goals we all share for the betterment of man. No political arguing, but just a nice letter. Do it for Jesus. And don’t CC me; keep it personal.
Merry Christmas, once again. I appreciate all my readers, and I promise to be funny again soon (unless you were laughing at this post – which would just be mean).
God bless.
-“Frank J.” Fleming

Sorry for the light posting. I’ve been extremely busy the last few days. Early Thursday, I hit the beach to work on my tan. I didn’t want to look lily white when I got off the plane in Idaho to spend Christmas with my family. I don’t mean to be immodest, but I think you could bounce a quarter off that rear-end.

Later Thursday my friend Bryce and I went to a cattle call audition for the part of Baby New Year 2005 in Disney World’s big New Year’s Eve celebration. I hadn’t noticed on the call sheet that they were only looking for boys between the ages of 3 and 5, so it was mostly a wasted trip. But we did get to show off our costumes at a friend’s boardwalk caberet–the Sex on the Beach was great.

I flew up north Thursday afternoon–luckily Air Idaho has service out of Orlando with short stops in Birmingham and Tupelo.

My Pops was waiting for me at the Boise International Airport. He happened to be in town to pick up some transistors, wire and blasting caps. I guess he’s what you would call a professional hobbyist. He has sent out plenty of working models of his designs, but so far there has been little interest. He’s working on a novel–I can’t wait to read it.

My pops and I drove for about 4 hours from Boise until we got to my home town, Hayden Lake, Idaho. There is a main-trunk highway between the cities, but we prefer to stick to the back roads.

My parents live in a cabin about 5 miles NE of Hayden Lake. I think technically the cabin is built on national forest land, but we haven’t had any trouble with park rangers since one of them went missing in the mountains behind our house.

By late Thursday night, the whole clan had made it to the cabin. Here is the latest family pic. Back row from left to right are my brother Skip, my dad Ted, my mom Droopie and me. Front row from left to right are my sister Mary Ann, my grandpa Frank Sr., my grandma Frau Helga, and inserted is a picture of my sister Katie Joe, who is serving a 2-5 year sentence for check forgery at the Idaho Institute for the Criminally Insane.

I’ve been having a great time since getting home. This morning I puttered around my Dad’s shop, and made a few local deliveries for him.

In the afternoon we did some arts and crafts, and got out the printing press to run off some more custom currency. Most people don’t know that the global economy is on the brink of collapse due to tinkering in the world markets by the Trilateral Commission, the Freemasons, the Knights Templar and the Mossad. Unlike the American dollar, my currency is secured by a large stockpile of gold and silver bars buried in my back yard. My currency can be used in the IMAO store and any store of an Alliance member. Just print off a couple sheets and send it in with your order. We haven’t produced any coinage yet, so please round up.

I spent Friday afternoon in our radio shack. I’m trying to intercept high band radio beams being bounced off Syncom 3, the first stationary earth satellite launched in 1964 to telecast the 1964 Olympic Games from Tokyo. NASA will tell you that Syncom 3 burned up in the atmosphere 1977, but I have information that it is still in orbit and operational. A CIA black ops division has been using it to broadcast mind control beams

When Friday night rolled in, it was time to start the Christmas Eve festivities! While Mary Ann decorated the tree, the men got out our old barbershop quartet uniforms. We were regularly doing gigs before I went off to college, but we could never secure a recording contract. We’re looking to go back out on the road, and need a new name–any suggestions? Anyway, Merry Christmas and all, and I’ll return to normal posting on Monday.

Do you know what’s the worst thing for me about traveling by airlines? It’s actually illegal to tell jokes. Think about that. Everything in this world – every sound, every color, every word – exists in my mind solely as object to play jokes off of. And what’s more parody-able than airline security? Yet I have to stand silent during these moronic procedings, holding back the witty comments that swell inside me, ready to burst. It’s like having to hold it after drinking seven beers in one sitting.
“Sir, please take off your shoes and put them through the x-ray.”
“But then you’ll find my bombs!”
“You’re not allowed to have this screwdriver attachment on your keychain.”
“But if I don’t have that one inch metal disk, how in the world am I supposed to kill everyone on board the aircraft?”
“Could you hand check this; I’m afraid the x-ray will mess up the altitude trigger.”
This ban on jokes predates 9/11, I believe. What was its purpose? Do they think that someone will eventually declare he’s bringing a bomb on board, so they don’t want people joking about to avoid the distraction? Or is this some sort of method of perserving solemnity for security screening as we walk barefoot through metal detectors?
Whatever the reason, I want my jokes back. You can take my guns, but, please, leave me my funny.

(A Guest Post by Harvey of Bad Example)
In a couple days, Christmas will be over, and it’ll be time to turn our attention to the NEXT great excessive-eating-and-drinking holiday – New Year’s Eve and/or Day (depending on what time it is) – hereinafter referred to as simply “New Year’s”.
So what is this holiday all about?
I’m glad you asked, because you’ve given me an excuse to post:

FUN FACTS ABOUT NEW YEAR’S
In a fight between Aquaman and New Year’s, Aquaman would actually get a few good licks in on Baby 2005 before being beaten to death by Old Man 2004’s cane.
Historically, the argument over the exact moment that the New Year should start has caused more wars than any other single issue. Damn you, International Date Line!
Terrorists celebrate New Year’s by screaming, “Die, American Pigs!” and being vaporized by air strikes.
Just as the Chinese have a cycle of years named after animals, the French name their years after various national odors, such as “dead fish”, “rotten eggs”, “bad hamburger”, “unwashed armpits”, “soiled underwear”, etc.
2005 is “poo”.
On New Year’s Day morning, most people wake up with the kind of hangovers normally experienced only by Sterno-drinking hobos and the Irish.
The Chinese celebrate New Year’s on February 9th, because the godless commie bastards are trying to start a war!
John Kerry can’t decide whether to celebrate New Year’s on January 1st or February 9th. Damn flip-waffler!
New Year’s used to be celebrated on July 4th up until 1776, when America stole that date for Independence Day in it’s very first act of unprovoked unilateral agression.
The Americans were going to steal oil, but it hadn’t been invented yet, and they had to steal SOMETHING.
Most New Year’s resolutions are broken within 5 days of being made, although Frank J.’s been having pretty good luck with his resolution to indenture a gang of servant bloggers to keep his site going whilst he frolics semi-nakedly with a buxom T-shirt babe.
The traditional American way to celebrate New Year’s is to wear funny hats and make obnoxious noises while milling about aimlessly. In France this is called “battle”.
Although Americans don’t usually end the night by surrendering en masse.
Except in Berkeley.
Eskimos used to celebrate New Year’s by clubbing baby harp seals to death. This brutal practice was outlawed in 1971 after an Eskimo killed Aquaman by mistake.
Consequently, today’s date is December 12,045th, 1971 in most Eskimo villages.
In the non-seal-clubbing parts of America, the changing of the year after December 31st is just a way for Bush to funnel cash into the pockets of all his Big Calendar cronies.
Who are all completely controlled by Halliburton.
And the JOOOOOOOS!
Rumor has it that SarahK’s New Year’s resolution is to trick Frank into wearing a “Cavity search me, I’m a terrorist” T-shirt through airport security.
Well, I hope that helps you make the transition between holidays. However, if you’re still stuck in the Christmas mood, I have three things for you.
1) Let’s refer to this one as the “1:30am karaoke version” of “Oh Holy Night”.
2) A sick and wrong re-lyricing of “Holly Jolly Christmas“.
3) An even sicker and wronger re-lyricing of “Here Comes Santa Claus“.
Those last two are completely without any redeeming social value whatsoever. If you choose to click on them, don’t come crying to me later about your shattered soul and lost innocence.
You’ve been warned.

Hello Readers,
This is Guestblogger RightWingDuck.
If you’ve been reading the news, you know that a huge cold spell is going to be sweeping across several parts of the country.
People, I understand cold. I live here in Pasadena California, and last night it got down to 62 degrees. It’s so cold that I might stop wearing shorts.
I thought, with my cold survival skills, I could probably save a lot of lives by sharing what I know.
So here we go.
RightWingDuck’s tips for handling a freezing spell.
Tip #1. Stay inside. It’s usually warmer inside. One of the biggest mistakes people make during a snow storm is to go outside. I find that most of the coldness is on the outside. Therefore, I recommend avoiding it whenever possible. Going outside during a snowstorm is like walking backwards in a horror movie- you’re just asking for trouble.
Tip # 2. Fire is your friend. It’s not just for collecting insurance money.
Start a fire in your fireplace. Don’t have one? Use a friend’s. If that doesn’t work, go to the local Kerry Edwards headquarters and burn it down. When they complain, accuse them of not caring about the poor and cold. When they relent, be sure to hit them up for loose change. I like winter.
Tip # 3. Avoid wearing shorts. That’s bad. Unless you have really nice legs, in which case, it would be worse not to share them with the world. Sometimes you have to use your own judgment.
Tip # 4. Contrary to popular opinion, booze will not help you stay warm. Um. I had a point, but I forgot. It must be the booze.
Tip #5.Tank tops look cool. But may not work in a freezing winter storm.
Tip #5. Booze will not help you stay warm, but it can help you lose track of time. During a snow storm that works out nicely since you may lose power and not have any clocks. Drinking in the dark during a snowstorm doesn’t make you an alcoholic. Or, at least, I don’t think so — I’ll have to check my Dr. Phil books.
Tip # 6. If you drive a convertible, make sure you put the top up. Snow and cold can ruin your seats and can keep you from hearing your stereo.
Tip #7. When it gets really cold, some white powder will come floating down. This is called (Looks at dictionary) — Snow.
Tip #8. Don’t eat the yellow snow. Believe me, it tastes awful and your friends will laugh at you.
Tip #9. If you see a bunch of white powder on a mirror, it’s probably just cocaine. That’s okay, I guess. (Note- Neither RWD nor IMAO advocate the use of cocaine for non-medical purposes)
Tip #10. Don’t sniff the yellow cocaine.
Tip #11. Sometimes making snowmen can be fun. This involves going outside. See tip #1.
Tip #12. Booze is good. Just don’t drink too much or you’ll wake up hungover lying next to a yellow snowman.
Tip #13. Mother Earth Magazine has great tips for staying warm while using little energy. Toss the magazine into the fireplace. Ahh. That’s better.
Tip # 14. Most of your body heat is lost through you head. Don’t stick your head out the windows.
Tip #15. Running your heater can drive up heating costs. Balance it out by turning off your fridge and putting some of your food outside. Have fun with it — can you say Beer-sicles?
There. I hope this piece of California advice has helped our readers in the Midwest. As you sit their freezing and watching the (looks at dictionary) snow pile up — remember that it’s best to stay warm.
But I’m sure you guys have much better ideas.
Tell us. Do YOU have any tips for handling a snowstorm?
PS. RWD has moved. I am now at www.rightwingduck.net.

(A Guest Post by Harvey of Bad Example)
From the looks of this post, I’m guessing Frank J. & SarahK have a “thing” going.
They might even be in love.
But it’s hard to tell, because so few people really understand what “love” is.
So, in an effort to shed some light on this baffling topic, I present:

FUN FACTS ABOUT LOVE
Love is one of a human being’s strongest needs, surpassed only by food and groin-kicking filthy hippies.
Love is like an unquenchable thirst, though it can be temporarily sated with fluids other than water.
The easiest way to tell if someone loves you is to tell them they have a nice ass. If they file a sexual harrassment suit, it’s love.
No, I’m NOT a lawyer. Why do you ask?
The best way to show someone you love them is by buying them expensive gifts. The poor are simply unworthy of love.
Michael Moore is, technically, poor.
Love is full of strange, confusing contradictions, and at times makes no sense whatsoever, yet it should not be confused with the UN, since love rarely involves oil-related scandals.
Despite what you may have been taught in school, love is more than just a few cigars and a stained blue dress
Love means never having to say you’re sorry, mostly because when you screw up, you will need to make a MUCH longer speech than that.
For best results, include bended-knee grovelling and a lot of diamonds.
I told you love wasn’t for the poor.
The French are reputed to be experts in love, mostly because it’s something they can surrender to.
You never know when love will strike, which makes it similar to terrorists. If you see love, shoot it, just to be safe.
Some people will need Viagra for this.
Some types of love are actually unhealthy. For example, if your love involves handcuffs, ostrich feathers, or spankings, it’s fine.
Love is a many-splendored thing, much like the diamond necklace you’ll be buying when you screw up.
Again – not for the poor.
Money can’t buy happiness, but it CAN buy love. Although I’ve found that the healthy kind usually costs a little extra.
Love was originally invented by Microsoft, thus explaining its chronic instability.
In a fight between love and Aquaman, love would conquer all, and Aquaman would confess his secret longing for King Neptune.
Long-lasting love can be achieved by filling out the on-line registration form and only using fully licensed versions. In the long run, pirated love will only bring misery, despite requiring fewer diamonds initially.
For more information on the ins and outs of love (which only SOUNDS dirty) see the Love Notes category at Bad Example. Those with delicate sensibilities are urged to think twice before choosing to view the comments.

Sorry for those who weren’t able to purchase the IMAO Christmas CD in time; I thought we had more we were selling than we were. My bad. For those who didn’t get to see the Happy Dance, I’ll probably put up some more images after the Christmas holiday.
As for those who got the CD, I want feedback! How’d you like the new bits and especially the Happy Dance? The video editing software I bought even came with a big green tarp for green screening, so I might do more stuff in the future.
Oh, and Scott, please e-mail if you’re reading this. I don’t have your e-mail (it’s at home which I won’t be at until the 2nd), and I have some info for you.
Merry Christmas, y’all.

Daily Kos is a very popular blog (usually surpassing Instapundit in traffic), and it’s a very sad thing to read. Here we have a fringe lunatic trying to explain political strategy, and does he think any troops really appreciate his crocodile tears? While the dead and wounded are tragic to us, to him they’re just numbers to beat down political opponents with. You just want to shake your head.
But it’s Christmas, so let’s put the Christmas spirit to good use and help Zuniga get some help. It would first start with an intervention.

BLOGGERS: You’re a nut.
ZUNIGA: No! Everyone is wrong! Bush is bad! I am right!
BLOGGERS: Have you ever considered the reason so few people share your viewpoint is not because you’re so much smarter than everyone else but instead because you’re a nut?
ZUNIGA: Nooooooo!

Then, we should have a charity to get Markos Zuniga psychological help:

PSYCHOLOGIST: Here’s a ball. Would you like to play with it, Markos?
ZUNIGA: No! It’s a Karl Rove conspiracy!
PSYCHOLOGIST: It looks like a ball to me… and it’s red!
ZUNIGA: That’s just what Karl Rove wants me to think!
PSYCHOLOGIST: Look… it bounces!
ZUNIGA: Gimme the ball!
PSYCHOLOGIST: Let’s not be grabby, Markos.

It will take a long time and be hard work, but I believe in my heart that Zuniga can be helped. He’s just one of many judging from the comments on his page (unless that’s his multiple personalities conversing with each other), but you have to start somewhere.
The lynx is coming, my friend; the lynx is coming.