Since Bill O’Reilly is busy in Ireland getting drunk and fighting (it’s still okay to be racist towards the Irish, right?), Michelle Malkin subbed for O’Reilly last night and tonight. I haven’t watched tonight’s yet (I’m tivoing the 11pm repeat), but last night she did great. She also got called a prostitute to her face which made for good TV.
According to this site, she got huge rating subbing for Bill. I think she does great on hard new analysis (not so much on softer stuff like when she once subbed on FOX and Friends). Instead of replacing O’Reilly, I think she and Kirsten Powers should replace Hannity and Colmes. That would make that hour much smarter and much much more attractive.
Archive of entries posted on 13th April 2007
State of the Frank Report
This is the part of the blog where I write about my day for those interested.
Many think that Aquaman’s ability to command the creatures of the sea is something magical, but it can be quantified scientifically. Like any other signal that goes through the air, it operates on a specific frequency. And when I know that frequency, Aquaman will die.
Reading up on how brains operate, I was able to limit down the possible frequencies in which Aquaman’s telepathy might operate. I then set a frequency scanner by those parameters.
“Dear, I’m heading out to stalk Aquaman.”
She reluctantly turned her attention away from her soap opera. “You still have the monkey to kill.”
“And die it shall, but the monkey I most want off my back right now is Aquaman. I’ll be back in time for dinner.”
“I’ll try to notice.” She looked back to her show and waved me away.
At the zoo, Aquaman’s CSI friend had left (I was careful; there was nothing to find), but Mr. Curry was still staring at the ashes of the monkey cages as if he could command them to give him answers. It was an obsession — and a very unhealthy once since it was going to cause me to kill him.
“Whatcha doin’?” My interrogator was a chubby child eating cotton candy. He stared at my frequency scanner with the incomprehension of a dog watching an opera.
“Did your parents ever tell you not to talk to strangers?”
“No.”
“Probably because they hate you because you’re so fat and are hoping some stranger will do you in.” I noticed a nearby tank. “I’ll honor their wishes.” I snatched his cotton candy and tossed it into the tank.
“My candy!” He waddled towards the tank, leaned over the railing reaching for his cotton candy, and stretched his arms out for until gravity won over.
At the sound of the splash, I faded into nearby crowd. “A kid has fallen into the stingray tank!” a woman shouted.
Aquaman ran forward for the rescue. “Just stay still and they won’t hurt you,” he told the blubbering child. Stingrays were an extremely minor threat, but instinctively Aquaman must have told them to move out of the way, because they fled as he reached in.
And my scanner caught the signal. It wasn’t enough data to properly breakdown how his telepathy worked, but it was enough for my purposes. By the time Aquaman had used his super strength to lift the wet dumpling to safety, I was gone.
Enjoy this minor act of heroism, Aquaman, for it shall be your last.
Week in Peeps
MKH has a cute, short video of peeps acting out this week’s news. I always thought puppets were the best educational tool, but I guess peeps work as well.
Oh, get over yourselves
Warning: This is a rant. If you’re one of those whiny peeps who just can’t handle it when IMAO gets ranty, you have this thing on the right-hand side of your screen called a scroll bar. I assume you know how to use it.
I’m over this racist bullcrap. I’ve been over it since about five minutes after Imus apologized the first time. After the first apology, there should have been no more apologies, and he absolutely NEVER should have groveled to Hypocrites Extraordinaire and Self-Proclaimed Masters of the Universe Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson. Note to Sharpton and Jackson: There is only one Master of the Universe, and his name is Jack Bristow. Neither of you comes close to being Jack Bristow, so move along now and crawl back into your racist, seedy little holes. Mr. Sharpton, you can go back to flinging around racial epithets about Jews and Whiteys. Jackson, well, you just go back to being the King of Slime.
Now, at first I felt bad for the Rutgers women’s basketball team, which everyone has already forgotten about. They’re now just “the Rutgers team”. What sport is it they were playing before this turned into the Sharpton/Jackson Circus and Spotless Barack’s Presidential Hot Topic? Oh, and did anyone notice that not all of them are black? Just wanted to mention it, because I doubt that Al and Jesse picked up on that, since they spun this whole thing as just another way for white men to keep black women enslaved.
But see, if I were one of the girls on the basketball team, I would just want it to go away. Yeah, ok, I was called a (k)nappy-headed ho in front of Imus’s eight listeners, and that’s incredibly insulting and very inaccurate (look how nice my hair is). Oh, and remember my accomplishments on the basketball court? I rock, and nobody remembers that!
But this. This is over the top.
Meanwhile the Rutgers women’s basketball team appeared Thursday on the Oprah Winfrey show to discuss the controversy. “Not only did he steal our dreams, he hurt our character of Rutgers University, our state, and all who have been associated,” Rutgers Head Coach C. Vivian Stringer said on the show.
Why have I been so quiet?
I’ve been making a bunch of those IM IN UR cat posters for fun and profit.
For instance: