The Archbishop of Iraq has been kidnapped. In one simple move the terrorists have now pissed off one billion Catholics (well, I was already pissed-off at them). Yeah, good going.
Do these people even have a strategy? Or does their language lack a word for that?
Guess this is yet another job for prayers and Special Forces.
Archive of entries posted on January 2005
The Importance of Being Frank
Had my second ever run in with the law on the way back from a dinner in which I introduced SarahK to my friends. An officer pulled me over, and here is the transcript:
OFFICER: Do you know why I pulled you over?
ME: The Krispe Kreme just closed down for the night and you’re bored?
OFFICER: Do you know what the speed limit is on Wickham Road?
ME: No, I usually drive too fast to be able to read the signs.
OFFICER: It’s 40mph. You were going 53.
ME: Well, @%#$! It’s great you stopped me, copper. I could have taken out half the county with such dangerous driving.
OFFICER: Didn’t you see me on the median with the radar gun?
ME: No, but I thought I smelled bacon.
OFFICER: So what’s your previous driving record?
ME: I have a couple of citations for running over dumbass cops.
OFFICER: I’ll need your licenses and registration.
I fling that in his face and he goes back to his car. After a couple minutes…
ME: You fall asleep back there? Let’s get this moving.
He walks back to my car.
OFFICER: Since you were honest with me, I’ve decided to just give you a warning.
ME: A warning? Is that like a threat? You threaten me and I’ll cut you!
I then screeched my tires as I sped off.
(NOTE: Only the officer’s dialogue was real. I think he gave me a break because I was so sincere/clueless. Also, I had a cute passenger.)
Me Archives!
A new problem suddenly surfaced (or I finally noticed it) as I first started posting this new year. If a page on my blog is long, it doesn’t get posted in its entirety. Check out my archives (such as my In My World™) to see what I’m talking about. It just cuts off at a near random point and the right side bar isn’t made. I don’t know what has changed to make this problem occur, but, for the time being, I’ve had to severely limit the number of posts shown on the front page to ensure my right sidebar appears.
Anyone know anything of this problem? I’m thinking of upgrading MoveableType to try and fix it (I need all of my In My Worlds™ easily accessible to work on my book), but the newer versions now cost money ($100 bucks for unlimited authors). Anyone pay for the new MT and know if it’s worth it?
Fun Trivia
In My World: The New Guys
“Here’s your new sister, Miss Beazley,” Laura Bush said as she set down the puppy in front of Barney.
“Yipe! Yipe!” Barney yelled angrily at the Scotty dog pup.
“Yip! Yip!” Miss Beazley responded fiercely.
“Yipe! Yipe!” Barney snarled, moving closer.
“Yip! Yip!” Miss Beazley barked, holding her ground.
“Will you two shut up!” President Bush yelled, throwing down the comic section of the newspaper. “You sound like the U.N. Next thing I know, you’ll be barking about how the Jews control everything.”
“They’ll take some time to get used to each other,” Laura said.
“Just lock them in a closet,” Bush stated, “I have important things to get done.”
“That’s bad parenting.”
“Worked on the girls.”
“They’re in a cross-country shooting spree with the feds after numerous bank robberies!” Laura shouted.
“And they haven’t been caught yet,” Bush said as he picked back up the paper. “Hey, you read about these people theorizing that Abraham Lincoln was gay? You know, once when the ghost of Lincoln turned into a fiery demon and chased me down one of the White House hallways, he stopped for a moment to comment on the drapes.”
“You and the ghost of Lincoln get along as I take the dogs for a walk,” Laura stated as she led out the dogs.
Bush’s paper flew out of his hands. “Stop stealing my paper, Lincoln!” Bush shouted.
“I also hid your remote!” answered an unearthly voice, “Muh ha ha ha!”
“Dang. Better just get to work.” Bush walked out and soon spotted Scott McClellan. “My inauguration is coming up really soon,” Bush told him, “and I want to make sure my second term is the best in the history of the universe. Thus, I want my new cabinet prepared. Now, one thing I’m concerned about is if the terrorists find the location of our Hidden Valley. If they attack that, it could cut off our critical ranch dressing supplies. Pass that on to the soon to be Secretary of Homeland Security Bernard Kerik.”
“Uh… he withdrew because of scandals.”
“Then pass it on to whomever we’re filling that post with.”
“For one thing,” Scott said, “I’m your Press Secretary, not your personal aide. Second…”
“And get me a soda, bitch!” Bush shouted and slapped Scott across the back of his head.
Scott scurried off and Bush then found Condoleezza Rice and Colin Powell together. “Good. Colin, I need you to teach Condi everything you know about Secretary of State.”
“Well…”
Powell was silenced by a sharp punch, knocking him to the floor. “I already have all the knowledge I need. Hearing him talk will only make me dumber.”
“Good,” Bush said, “That will save time.”
“I wanted Secretary of Defense, though!” Condi shouted.
“But Rummy is doing a good job,” Bush answered, “and… well… I’d be too scared to fire him. But, if he leaves the job for some reason…”
“Or an accident befalls him,” Condi added, grinning evilly.
“Yeah, or if that, then Secretary of Defense is yours.”
“Muh ha ha ha!” Condi laughed.
“Good to see you’ve gotten your humor back,” Bush smiled. He then turned to Alberto Gonzales. “Now, I want you to go talk to little Johnny Ashcroft to learn everything he knows. No wearing a sombrero while being Attorney General or calling everyone ‘stupid gringos’ which I know you’ll want to do since you’re Mexican.”
“I’m American, sir.”
“That’s the spirit,” Bush said, slapping Alberto on the back, “Also, the cafeteria serves burritos, so it will seem like you’re right at home.” Bush then walked off.
“Stupid gringo,” Alberto muttered.
“Well, golly gosh, muchacho” John Ashcroft said, “let me think of all the things to tell you.” He pointed to a room off to the side that had a pad of paper and pen hanging on the wall and crumpled paper on the ground. “This is where we start the day. You write a human right on a piece of paper and then throw it on the ground and trample it. It’s to get you in spirit for the rest of the day, by golly.”
“Whatever, churchy,” Alberto responded, “What else is there?”
“Jeepers, let me think.” Ashcroft then pointed to a room where people were busy typing. “Here is where we make new bills such as the Patriot Act, the I Love America Act, the Only People Who Hate Baby Jesus Would Be Against this Act Act, and the Happy Act.”
“Happy Act? I haven’t heard of that one.”
“Well, jeepers, it’s a new one,” Ashcroft said, “It allows us to lock in prison without a trial anyone who questions the act.”
“Why? What’s in the act that people would question?”
“Actually, by golly, the only thing in the act is the provision to lock up people who question it. It’s to weed out those who just criticize everything we do.”
“Sounds good. Now let’s get to the cool stuff.”
“Jeepers, slow down there, my Hispanic colleague,” Ashcroft said, “There’s a lot to the rest of our operations. Now, we threw a number of suspects in dank holes without a trial – or paperwork – and I forgot where those holes are. So, you might want to try finding some when you start your job. Just listen for, ‘Help! Help! I’m being repressed!’ and mark down the location.”
“I’ll have some secretary do that,” Alberto responded, “I ain’t looking for holes all day. There’s no one in them I care about.”
“That’s the spirit,” Ashcroft declared, “Now, these rooms over here are where we torture suspected terrorists to get information or because it’s a slow day and we’re bored. Now, first you take a car battery and…”
“I know how to hook up a car battery to a man,” Alberto shouted, “Do you think I’m stupid because I’m Hispanic?”
“Well, yes, yes I do. Have I been speaking too quickly for you?”
“Just finish showing me this place before I decide to smack you around,” Alberto answered angrily.
“Golly. Okay. I guess I better introduce you to Psycho Stan, head of the ATF. He’s a hold over from Reno.”
“Just point me in a direction and people will die and buildings will burn!” Psycho Stan snarled, looking on the verge of snapping.
“Best to be careful how you use him,” Ashcroft said, “as he tends to not leave people in a condition good for questioning, by golly. You should keep him busy, though, or he’ll get bored and just start randomly shooting stuff.”
“I ain’t killing no one right now!” Psycho Stan declared angrily.
“Jeepers. Just wait a moment.” Ashcroft then picked up a sack, “Here is our mailbag, Mr. Mexican Man. It’s usually full of letters that say mean things about me and hurt my feelings, golly gosh.” Ashcroft took out a letter and read it aloud. “‘Dear Ashcroft, you are a stupid fundamentalist who tramples people’s rights. You should lose your job and go to prison.'” A tear rolled down Ashcroft’s cheek. “That was hurtful.” He handed the letter to Psycho Stan. “Find who wrote this and throw him in a dark hole where he’ll never be found.” Ashcroft then looked in the mailbag again. “Hey, here’s a letter for you, Gonzales.”
Alberto took the letter. “‘Gonzales, how you allowed torture in Guantanamo Bay is criminal. You should never be Attorney General.'” Alberto handed the letter to Psycho Stan. “Find this stupid gringo and send him to Gitmo for torture.”
“I’ll burn his house down, too,” Psycho Stan snarled before running off.
“Now let’s get you a burrito since you’re Mexican,” Ashcroft said as he led Alberto to the cafeteria.
“There better be good salsa… or I’m gonna cut someone!”
The doorbell rang at Rumsfeld’s house. Chomps barked fiercely. The doorbell made him angry.
“Let’s go see what it is, boy,” Rumsfeld said as he set down the gun he was cleaning. When he opened the door, all he saw was a bottle of whiskey on his doorstep. Chomps barked at it.
“It’s just whiskey,” Rumsfeld said as he picked it up, “Whiskey never hurt anyone.”
In the shadows, Condi watched and smiled. “Yes, drink the whiskey, you old fool,” she whispered.
Rumsfeld opened the bottle and took a sip. “Tastes like it was laced with cyanide,” he commented. He then drank the entire bottle. “Yep, definitely cyanide. Not as much as I usually like to spike my whiskey with, but it’s the thought that counts.” He then tossed out the bottle and reentered his house along with Chomps.
“Dammit!” Condi exclaimed, “Now I guess I’ll have to learn that stupid ‘diplomacy’ crap!”
I’m Only Addicted to Love… and Booze
La Shawn Barber wants bloggers to answer some questions for her, and you have to do what La Shawn Barber says, so here I go:
1) How long have you been blogging?
Approximately two and a half years.
2) Do you believe you’re addicted to blogging? Please explain, and be honest. It is habit-forming, I must confess. (If I decide to use your response, I may have follow-up questions.)
Occasionally I see something I must comment on or it eats me from the inside, but mainly its more like work now in that I demand a new humor post every morning from myself.
3) Have you ever taken a hiatus? If so, for what reason and how long?
Only for vacations. Longest would be a couple weeks for Christmas.
4) Have you ever thought of giving up your blog? Why or why not?
Early (less than a month after starting) on I wrote this post and decided I just didn’t have it in me and had no readers anyway. What’s the point of writing if no one else sees it? Then oceanguy from Somewhere On A1A… (whoops, yet another blog I need to update on my blogroll) e-mailed a response to his post. I found I was not on his blog under Florida bloggers. My first permalink! Encouraged, I tried some more. In a couple weeks, I finally earned an audience by getting some links by commenting on other blogs and then became obsessed with increasing my traffic.
The Great Move of 2005 – Part I
SarahK relates the start of the most traumatic experience of my life – the five day, 1,700 mile drive of a 24-foot U-Haul towing an SUV from Amarillo, TX, to Melbourne, FL, with a peeved cat in the cab.
As a teaser, the story contains the phrase “so I joined him in the U-Haul’s men’s bathroom…”
Mercenaries Pilot – Act III
So here is Act III – the thrilling conclusion – to my sitcom pilot that never was. Man, and I had great ideas for other episodes; maybe I could just write some short stories.
Anyway, most of the contribution of SarahK and RightWingDuck were in the form of proofreading, but the over-the-top nicknames Doug uses for Charlene was SarahK’s suggestion (originally he just called her “honey” and “dear”). I forget what I used from RWD, but he can add what he wants in the comments.
Anyhoo, comments on the script in toto is greatly appreciated. Without further ado, Act III:
Fun Trivia
Do you know the gestation period of the northern short-tailed shrew?
Blog Myths and Facts
As the mainstream media give more attention to blogs and more Americans hear about them for the first time, there are many myths about blogging being spread (many by the MSM itself). As a service to the public (and IMAO exists solely to the benefit of the public), I will now list those myths and the real facts about blogging.
BLOG MYTHS AND FACTS
MYTH: A blog is the mixture of hair and unidentifiable gunk that clogs up a drain.
FACT: “Blog” is short for “weblog,” and, while sometimes more disgusting than what’s found in a drain, blogs hardly ever interrupt the flow of water.
MYTH: Bloggers are partisan hacks.
FACT: We lack the editing and proofreading to have the status of “hacks.”
MYTH: Bloggers are just a bunch of ill-informed polemicists writing in their pajamas.
FACT: Not all bloggers wear pajamas while blogging. I myself wear boxers, a gun belt, and a bandolier. One of the contributors to Power Line is famous for wearing a gorilla costume while writing.
MYTH: Bloggers are a bunch of ankle-biters to the mainstream media.
FACT: Our effect to the MSM is more akin to a strong kick to the groin. Thus, we are “groin-kickers.”
MYTH: Most bloggers are paid off by politicians to assert certain viewpoints.
FACT: Only 8% of bloggers are bribed for their viewpoints. The remaining 92% have too few readers to bother bribing them. OT, I would just like to once again gratuitously mention that Bush’s plan for Social Security is the way to go.
MYTH: Bloggers just criticize the media and have no new information to add.
FACT: Bloggers often add new information to the debate since there are so many of them in different parts of the U.S. and other countries with different expertise. For example, there is no better expert on what a jerk my coworker Simmons is than me. I know you stole my stapler, Simmons, and now the world knows!
MYTH: Bloggers are no threat to the mainstream media.
FACT: Many bloggers are mentally deranged to the point of being able to harm a news anchor and need to be carefully monitored by the government.
MYTH: People only blog for the money and the babes.
FACT: People also blog for power, out of sense of arrogance, and because they like the clickity-clack sound of the keyboard.
MYTH: Bloggers like to drink smoothies made from putting puppies in blenders.
FACT: Only one blogger does this. The average diet of a blogger is bourbon and Pop-Tarts.
MYTH: Many men blog to compensate for their small penises.
FACT: Bloggers’ penises are very large. Just ask Wonkette.
MYTH: The Daily Kos is written by ten monkeys fighting over one keyboard.
FACT: It is also edited by Koko “Screw ’em” the Signing Gorilla.
MYTH: The most popular blog is Instapundit.
FACT: The most popular blog is mine. If you don’t read it everyday, you are dumb and ill-informed.
MYTH: Democratic Underground is a popular blog.
FACT: DU is actually a digital bulletin board and not a blog. It was started by Shannon Daughty of the University of Georgia as psychological experiment of what happens when a number of people suffering for diagnosable paranoid delusions interact online. So far, results are inconclusive.
MYTH: Blogging was predicted by Nostradamus as a precursor to the end of the world.
FACT: Most scholars believe the passage referred to is actually about Janet Jackson’s wardrobe malfunction. When clothes no longer operate properly, the end is nigh.
Mercenaries Pilot – Act II
I kinda thought the first scene to Act I was a little slow and spent a while cutting that one. To me, the interest in the characters really builds in the diner scene (Act I, Scene B).
Now, I think this is my favorite act of the three. It even has a joke just for jonag (well, I put it in because I thought it was funny, but she should appreciate it the most). Also, I give more for Lulu to do who I think ends up being a scene stealer. Act III, though, has most of the action and lesbians. Well, I’ll post Act III tomorrow and you can decide for yourselves which part is best.
Anyhoo, kinda glad I didn’t win the contest; would have had to move to L.A. (no offense, Silly Sister Sarah).
And on to Act II:
Fun Trivia
The next in line for the throne after Prince William is Prince Harry. Who is next in line after Prince Harry?
There’s Something About Harry
Decided I should get back to doing a topical humor piece (otherwise I’d do “Know Thy Enemy: Self Moves”). Having trouble getting my groove back with the current news, though. I could do a “Know Thy Enemy: Tsunamis,” but I realized one of the fun facts would be, “Since so many people died from the tsunami, you shouldn’t make jokes about tsunamis.” Too bad; an Aquaman vs. a Tsunami fight would be pretty interesting. For other topics, there’s the Social Security issues, but that’s just the same old rhetoric that’s been flying back and forth since FDR. There’s the hearing about Alberto Gonzales and torture, but I got lost on what was said and of what importance any of it is. There was how Barbara Boxer delayed the certification of Bush’s reelection by two hours, but that hardly seemed worth mentioning. Finally, there is the continuing trouble in Iraq, but that’s not funny.
So there is only one thing left: the issue of Prince Harry wearing a Nazi uniform.
Now, most would say that anything involving the royal family is, by definition, unimportant, but I think this is worth mentioning because of the issues involved. First, I would like to congratulate CNN for including this paragraph:
The Nazis murdered 6 million Jews and millions of others including Poles, homosexuals, Soviet prisoners and Gypsies. Millions more were imprisoned or forced to work as slaves.
Now anyone who reads the article and never heard of the Nazis knows that they’re bad. Not patronizing at all. Kudos.
Anyhoo, here are the pertinent points to this story:
* The Nazis are bad.
* Dressing up as the Nazis is bad because it makes you look like a Nazi who is bad and might make people think you support the Nazis which would make you bad.
* It would be funny if Prince Harry had long hair and a beard so we could all jokingly call him Prince “Hairy.”
* Actually, it would be funnier if his name was Larry, because, with his name being Harry, no one would know when you’re jokingly calling him “Prince Hairy.”
* I still haven’t finished my first cup of coffee this morning and already lost my place.
Anyway, I think the suggestion of sending Prince Harry to Auschwitz is too harsh. In such a forced labor camp, he would most likely die. Instead, I think he should brought out to the public square where, in front of everyone, the queen smacks him in the back of his head with her royal scepter while loudly proclaiming him a “dumbass.”
Now, why was Prince Harry dressed as a Nazi? Apparently he was at the birthday part for a friend Harry Meade (Harrys have to stick together) and it seemed logical to come as a Nazi. Now, if my mead was ever hairy, I’d say, “Bring me new mead, or I shall cut thee down!” That is so more elegant than “I’ll blow your @$%& brains out!” I wish I were in medieval times.
No, wait; they didn’t have HDTV back then. I don’t think they had blogs back then either, but, if they did, it would just be the Glenn Reynolds quoting scripture and commenting “Forsooth.” Also, he’d be much angrier having to churn his puppies instead of blend them.
I’m getting more coffee.
Links of the Day
As I said before, bloggers are the coolest people, so it makes sense that blogger Michelle Malkin is the nicest pundit I know. Some of the letters she gets are not so nice, though.
I hadn’t heard of the Armstrong Williams controversy until I read RWD’s post on my blog. Michelle has a column on how that controversy will hurt minority conservative pundits. She includes some hate mail to show what she is already subjected to, and has on her blog even more uncensored hate mail (Warning: Contians profanity – hence the “uncensored”).
BTW, I started reading her book In Defense of Internment on the plane ride to Amarillo and got through the first few chapters. It’s certainly a new veiwpoint with lots of historical information I had never heard of.
Whitler describes having to edit the Michael Moore interview on the show he works for, how skilled editing can control what someone perceives, and why the minortity of conservative actors are the ones who hold public office while left-wingers never even run. Also, he has the time of the Michael Moore appearance so you can set your Tivos. Whitler smart. You read.
John Hawkins has gotten an interview with the great mind Victor Davis Hanson for a second time. I really should try to do some more interviews in the future.
Iowahawk teases with comic genius as he tells the noir tale of Inspector Dan Rather searching for the truth.
“My name is Rather. And I’m a dick.”
Anyhoo, since people seemed to like it, I’ll put up Act II of my pilot for Mercenaries tomorrow. Also, I’ll try to catch up with things have something topical to post as well. Later, y’all.
Mercenaries Pilot – Act I
A while back I heard of this contest to write a situation comedy (i.e., sitcom) and be part of a reality show where it is produced. I got some advice on sitcom writing from Bill Whittle (go buy his book – post haste!) and had my drafts looked over by SarahK and RightWingDuck who offered proofreading and some suggestions. I spent hours cutting it down to the size of a half-hour sitcom and doing the proper formatting for a script and then mailed in what I thought was a hilarious entry.
I didn’t even receive a rejection letter.
Since it’s safe to say I didn’t win, I’ll put the script up here as I think it’s funny and there are a few in jokes for my readers. Basically, the story is about four twenty-something characters who become mercenaries in a post-apocalyptic future dominated by two warring factions – the Imperialist United Republic (IUR) and the United Republic of Imperialists (URI). My pitch was, “It’s like Friends… but with guns!”
Yeah, I tried to think of a normal office comedy, but it just wasn’t in me. Even tried the idea of a family comedy about ex-mobsters (“You know the wacky neighbors? I whacked them!”), but it didn’t come together.
Anyhoo, without further ado, here is Act I (it’s three acts as standard for a half-hour show) from the script to my pilot of Mercenaries – with all those hours of formatting undone so it fits as a blog post: