The Future of Fred Thompson

I don’t know anyone who doesn’t like Fred Thompson (other than trolls, whose opinions never count), and the reason I’ve seen Republican primary voters give for not voting for Fred Thompson is that he didn’t come to their state and do a silly little monkey dance to prove how much he wanted to be president. This makes these people to dumb to live.
Reportedly, Fred Thompson will have an announcement tomorrow about his further plans, and I think he should stay in the race. Otherwise, what’s our option? To throw our half-hearted support behind Romney? We might as well have one actual conservative in the race to at least remind people what a Republican primary should be about.
Also, it will give us more time to plan our riot.

Bobby Fischer: Dead on the 64th Square

The world’s greatest and/or looniest chess player died last Thursday, and – since he taught me everything I know about being a chess dork who never kissed a girl – I thought I’d say a few words about his passing:
Thank God he’s finally shut his seditious, psychotic, anti-American mouth.
Still, I ought to remember the good times, too, and so in memoriam, I re-post the last nice thing I said about him back in 2005:


Fischer originally gained fame in 1972 by defeating Russian chess champion Boris Spassky in a stunning upset, giving America a symbolic Cold War victory and high school chess club geeks a brief respite from their daily beatings.
20 years and 15,000 Thunderbird & Sterno martinis later, a very broke Fischer challenged Spassky to a rematch in Sarajevo, Yugoslavia in violation of international sanctions. Being down to his last bottle of cheap vodka, Spassky accepted, and the rest is history.
By which I mean it was quickly forgotten by all except the geeks who longed for those halcyon days of not being punched in the stomach every time they quoted Monty Python.
How I miss those days…
But to keep myself from pining away like a Norwegian Blue parrot, I thought I’d share some of my fondest memories that 1992 match:
Game 1 – Up to his old mind-games, Fischer (playing white) stares at Spassky for three solid hours – without blinking – before making his opening move. Spassky, being a hard-bitten and stoic Russian – as well as half-blind from a decade of drinking anti-freeze – stares back, ALSO unblinking. Fischer breaks the standoff by simultaneously moving P-K4 and yanking that annoying hair out of the mole on Spassky’s chin.
Game 4 – Fischer tries to intimidate Spassky by performing a series of ninja flips prior to every move. Spassky retaliates by fake-snatching at Fischer’s face, then poking his thumb between his first two fingers, and taunting “Got your nose!”. Fischer screams, “Give it back! Give it back!” – then cries, wets himself, and eventually loses the match.
Game 7 – Fischer is still behind in the contest, having only 1 win to Spassky’s 2. Panic sets in, causing him to attempt a desperate gamble – replacing Spassky’s vodka with water. Battling both sobriety and delirium tremens, Spassky agrees to forfeit the game if Fischer will just “for the love of GOD, man! Get these bugs off my arms!”.
Game 15 – After 2 drawn games that dragged on for 6 hours each, the players are desperate to avoid a threepeat. However, after another 6 hours of play, Spassky mistakenly moves his king into the corner square, triggering a stalemate and a third consecutive draw. Saddened but calm, Fischer meticulously jams all 32 chess pieces down Spassky’s throat. The tournament is delayed until after a box of Ex-Lax can be procured and deployed.
Game 22 – Fischer now leads, 8 wins to 4, and Spassky is sweating hard. Despite masterful combination attacks and a brilliant queen sacrifice, he finds himself cornered and facing mate in 3. However, in a flash of inspiration, Spassky spits the last of his vodka in Fischer’s face and sets it on fire, thus procuring a draw from the now-eyebrowless Fischer.
Game 29 – Fischer 9, Spassky 5, and it seems that each move only delays the inevitable as Fischer slowly crushes the life out of Spassky. However, at move 43 – only 2 moves from checkmate – Fischer glances at his watch, remembers that “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” is on TV, and settles for a draw. Fisher & Spassky gallop from the room on invisible horses – shouting “Ni!”, and giggling like schoolgirls all the way.
Game 30 – Now tired of toying with his quarry, on move 27 Fischer advances a pawn to the 8th rank, allowing him to promote it to a more powerful piece. Instead of the expected Queen, Fischer stuns Spassky by choosing a mere bishop. In the moment of Spassky’s distraction, Fischer employs the Five Point Palm Exploding Heart Technique to garner his 10th win and conclude the contest in decisive fashion.


You dang chess geeks can start nit-picking in the comments now.

Me Vote Republican!

With over sixty percent in South Carolina voting for McCain or Huckabee, what exactly were they basing their vote on? Were they carefully reading about all the candidates up until the vote, or were they busy trying to see their anus in a mirror? Occam’s razor points to the latter.
It looks like it’s going to be near impossible to get to get a Republican elected in the general election if its this hard getting one elected in a Republican primary.

Today We Watch the Polls and Pray that South Carolinians Aren’t Freaking Idiots

Fred Thompson needs to do well tonight in South Carolina. At least one poll shows evidence of a big surge for him. His campaign has a new goal of $1.5 million in donations by midnight tomorrow in prep for Super Tuesday. No one is going to be able to advertise in all of those markets (and the citizens can’t be a bunch of douches who will only vote for someone who visited them personally), so hopefully a few Republicans will be able to look up the candidates themselves like we all do (and if you’re local, you can help). It’s a novel concept, but it just might work.

Ronin Profile: Sean G

Sean G

Let’s meet some more IMAO readers. Today, it’s Sean G.


What’s the story behind your name? Well, once upon a time I went by the amazingly cool moniker of nuclearboy. This was nod to my profession, and was, apparently, before I discovered women. As an older, more socially functional adult, it hardly seemed appropriate to be called that if I ever wanted to be taken seriously. (Mr. Interviewer–“let me see, your email is nuclearboy@aol.com… we’ll be in touch.”)
Where do you live? I’ve just moved to New Brighton, Pennsylvania. I didn’t really know what a commonwealth was, until I came here to the Keystone State–er, Commonwealth. I learned it meant that if you had any wealth, they took it away, and taxes are what we all have in common.
My best observations place the final resting place of my money in either the 6 guys standing around watching one guy fix a pot hole or in the back pockets of the socialist academia that are always hurting my kids’ education by being on strike. You know, maybe its better if he doesn’t learn curricula taught by pinko-commies.
How old are you? I was born the day that Pioneer 10 sent back the first close-up views of Jupiter.
Tell us briefly about yourself. Starting life in the frozen tundra of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, I managed to grow up not sounding particularly Canadian, unless I get particularly excited, or spend too much time at home. Tired of shoveling snow, I decided the best way out of the global-warming-needing northland was to join the navy. That, and I didn’t want to work at a gas station the rest of my life.
Not content with the secret of fire, I spent 12 years 8 months and 16 days in the Silent Service of the world’s finest navy, creating heat by splitting atoms. A feat just now being achieved by the savages in Iran, despite the fact that the how-to has been in your local library since at least the 40’s. Perhaps they should consider that Allah just wants them to stay in the stone age.
Anyhow, having seen enough of the world to decide that there is no place better than the US of A, and for that matter, most places could be improved by several weeks of intense carpet bombing (hear that Frenchies?), I had not determined what I wanted to be when I grew up. However, I had eliminated submarine sailor from the list, and moved into civilian life.
A fortune 500 company now pays me to split their atoms here in Pennsylvania. My spare time is spent fixing up a 150 year old house, blogging, hunting, fishing, and making sure my son grows up to be a good American.
I still ended up shoveling snow.
How long have you been reading IMAO? Since shortly after Nuke The Moon. My Dad sent a link to it, and I’ve been reading since.
What’s your favorite IMAO post? Definitely a tie between the post that got me reading IMAO: Nuke The Moon, and the more recent, but hilarious lolterizt!
If you were to describe IMAO in three words, what would those be? Ineluctable Perspicacious Persiflage
What’s your favorite political issue? Federalism, and the return to Constitutional governance. Our Founding Fathers, if they were around today, would be trying to lead a revolt.
Do you have a website? If so, please tell us briefly about it. If you kindly direct your browsers to http://toomuchliberty.blogspot.com you will find a right of center oasis in the desert that is the internet. We (My Dad, a friend from work and I) started the blog last September and have been having a blast with it. We are pro-Thompson, pro-America (but I repeat myself), pro-Hippie Punchin’, and we like guns. Oh, and did I mention that we are against Monkeys? Particularly human-ape hybrids. No Humanzees!
Say something nice about Democrats. They almost always blink when hit in the head by a hammer.


If you commented in the last post asking for entrants, you’re still in the running. Thanks to everyone who has participated thus far; just because you may not think you’re interesting doesn’t mean we won’t enjoy your story.