Don't care if I spelled it right. Just need to tell you how fun it is to bolt large metal sheets to windows in hot humid weather. Half the fun will be taking it down. Many people in my neighborhood didn't get storm protection free with their houses, though, so I should feel lucky. Many prayers needed.

Original plan of standing in field and shouting at storm have been scratched for fleeing to Orlando tonight and getting flight from the land of wind and rain tomorrow afternoon. Will post again soon when I reach stability.

Previous Episode

* * * *

Brian took my face choice and criticism and made this.

Chomps, Take 8

"Wow! Great!" I said, "Except still not angry enough. I want his eyes bugging out as he's so angry at whatever it is he is looking at."

"Aww, @$%&!" Brian said, and then tried again.

Chomps, Take 9

"Uhh, now his eyes are bugging out too much now," I said.

"Do you even know what you @$%& want?" Brian exclaimed, yet persevered.

Chomps, Take 10

"There it is!" I yelled, "Absolutely perfect! Perfect... accept for the pupils. He looks cross-eyed."

So Brian fixed that.

Chomps, Take 11

"Here you go," he said, "Now BURN IN HELL!"

And thus all that was left was to ink it, color it, and come up with the wording and font for the t-shirt - simple stuff barely worth going over.

FRIDAY - THE UNVEILING OF THE T-SHIRT

I'm waiting for my workplace's verdict on the Hurricane Framces which will be at 1pm. Whatever it is, I booked a room at the Orlando Airport so I can drive up there tonight after I secure my house (who knows when an evacuation order will come out, and then the roads will be packed).

A lot on my mind, so, to lighten the mood, here is a drawing I did of SarahK and I at the canyon.

I'm going to be securing my house up tonight and flying out of here tomorrow afternoon. I may touch base during Thursday, but I will be back up and blogging on Friday from an undisclosed location (just in time for revealing the new IMAO t-shirt design).

Consider how my company is, I may need to take No Work No Pay for leaving like this, but I don't think that will happen. If needed, I may rattle my tin cup, but right now just pray that hurricane doesn't do too much damage wherever it lands.

I read Jonah Goldberg's G-File yesterday, and had to do a double take. Tony of Oriental Redneck then e-mailed me the obvious point that Goldberg is ripping me off.

Yes, I always make references to Aquaman, so now Jonah is making references to the poor man's Aquaman, the Sub Mariner. Pretty pathetic. I heard there once was a D.C./Marvel Comics match up between the two and Aquaman actually won. Yeah, Aquaman actually won a fight. I think this shows how desperate Goldberg is getting about me taking his job. Or maybe he figures I'll be killed by Frances and he can plagiarize me at will.

We may have to do a letter writing campaign to NRO. Nothing mean that would make them hate me and not hire me, but something. Let's think about it and do it later. Right now I'm worried about my house getting blown away.

UPDATE: Just got this from Jonah Goldberg right after posting:

Dude, aquaman is a pussy!

True, but what does that make Prince Namor?

UPDATE2: When I informed Jonah of Sub-Mariner being beaten by Aquaman, he responded:

I won't listen to your lies and dirty mind tricks!

Don't have any response to that. He's just too fargone.

Because Frances is headed right for me and getting bigger, I think I'll be spending the night putting up my storm windows and then getting the hell out of Dodge the next day. Hopefully, I'll have internet access where I end up and will report back. Just wanted to give you a heads up.

Yay! I voted for the winner in the Republican Senate Primary. That makes me smirt.

If I get stopped by the police, I want the Sheriff to know I voted for him after I voted against him... well I will in the general election, at least.

But Babb won! Yay Babb... whoever you are!

 I probably should be talking about the Republican National Convention right now, but anyone who isn't a 'tard already knows to vote Republican (actually there's a great slogan: "Only 'tards vote for Democrats!"). Instead, what's concerning me is hearing about more murder of Israelis and Palestinians celebrating it.

 The Palestinian terrorists say they won't stop until all Jews have been pushed into the sea. Of course, that will never happen. That means they'll be murderous dumbasses forever.

 Or does it?

 Let's push all the Palestinians into the sea. See how they like it. If we Americans get together with the Israelis, we'll easily be able to push the Palestinians anywhere we want.

 Now some may say they have problems with this plan. They may not want to get sand into their shoes. This can be solved by having a nice pier to push the Palestinians off of so you don't have to walk on the beach. Also, there can be plenty of signs saying "Push Palestinians this Way" that point to the pier.

 Others may wonder how in the world could we be sure we pushed all Palestinians into the sea. Easy. After we push each Palestinian into the sea, we give him a "I was pushed into the sea" card. Then, he can show that card to keep from being pushed into the sea again. No claiming you lost the card, though; into the sea you go!

 It will be hard work pushing Palestinians into the sea, but they should learn some important lessons from it. One, they will find that being pushed into the sea is not a nice thing. It is wet and salty. Second, they'll know for sure that we're bigger than them and we can push them around. So that's why this must be completed. Yes, it will be tempting to say, "I think we've pushed enough Palestinians into the sea," but we must not rest until all Palestinians have been pushed into the sea.

Frank J. is a syndicated columnist whose columns appear worldwide on IMAO.us and is the author of such books as "Tricking Girls into Cuddling for Warmth" and "Look at Me! I'm an Author!"

I voted in a primary for the very first time today. I voted for Mel Martinez for Senate. I also voted for Torpy as sheriff, because I think it would be nice to have sheriff named Torpy. I'd say, "Hey, Sheriff Torpy!"

And he'd be like, "Hello."

Finally, I voted for Babb for judge because I saw a commercial of her and she seemed nice. I didn't vote in any of the other categories because I never heard of those postions. Local elections are for women.

Previous Episode

* * * *

After all the name calling, Brian took another shot at Chomps.

Chomps, Take 5

This looked more like he was angry, but he still didn't seem right. Neck was too high and he was losing that doggie appeal. "Try again!" I demanded.

Chomps, Take 6

Now the snout was too big and his lips were fanning out like he was caught with in a wind tunnel. "Try again, fool!" I said.

Chomps, Take 7

Along with this try which fixed the mouth but still seemed wrong with the snout, Brian gave me this rough choice of faces along with the note: "You dumb @$%&! Do you even know what a @$%& dog looks like? Just tell me what the @$%& you want, so I can draw it, you..." Well, it's just a series of expletives after that. I decided that the middle face on the right column was closest to what I was envisioning, so Brian went back to work...

TO BE CONTINUED...

Hurricane Frances (that's my name... only the feminine version) is currently on direct course towards me. I hear that's good, because these hurricanes never hit where they are originally predicted to.

Man, I really don't want to have to put up those storm windows.

BTW, how did you like the sound clip in the previous post? Would you like more of those?

Also, I now link to SarahK's version at the end. Make sure to read it too... even though it's full of lies!

Previous Episode

* * * *

August 21st, 2004
Saturday

"S-s-so c-c-cold..."

We got up that freezing morning and packed up our tents. As we drove towards the trail, SarahK wouldn't let me look out the window.

"I wanna see the, canyon!" I protested.

"You'll see the canyon when I tell you to, goofy goof."

When I finally got to see the Grand Canyon, it was at the North Rim Lodge. It had this glorious overlook of the canyon, and it was one of the most spectacular things I ever saw. I just stood there in awe. I had to take a picture... with us blocking the view.

SarahK Blocking View

Me Blocking View

We then headed for the beginning of the trail and packed our bags. SarahK wanted to make sure we had plenty of food as you should eat twice as much when hiking. She went a bit crazy, though, and filled the bags to capacity with food. She kept saying, "We need more Spam! Let's take out your mattress so we can fit more Spam!"

"But I don't like Spam!"

Soon we were loaded up and ready to go carrying 80 lb. packs with enough food to feed a small African nation for a year or Michael Moore for one hour.

Ready to Hike

The hike started out in a wooded area, circling downwards as we dodged donkey pee and poo from the wussy tour of people who couldn't take hoofing it themselves. It got warm quickly, and I soon took the legs off my zip-off pants and rolled up my sleeves. The hiking was treacherous work, each step threatening to twist your ankle or send you falling into the canyon, but soon we got through the trees to see a spectacular view from the Coconino Overlook. I couldn't believe it. It was the sort of the thing that changes your soul. To make sure I never forgot the glorious view, I took a picture of the sign.

Coconino Overlook Sign

I had to take pictures.

Me Taking Pictures from the Coconino Overlook

Even though she saw it before, SarahK enjoyed the view too.

SarahK Enjoying the View

As we traveled further into the canyon, it was just more glorious natural beauty atop more glorious natural beauty. It seemed to stretch on forever, and then you'd go around a corner and see another view that stretched out as far as the eye could see. I had to take pictures.

Me Taking Pictures

SarahK was compelled to take pictures, too.

SarahK Taking Pictures

Being more level headed from having been to the canyon before, SarahK reminded me that I needed to keep drinking.

SarahK Drinking

She told me that if I ever got to the point where I was thirsty, it was too late I was already as good as dead. We each had our bladders, and we had little baggies of fruit punch Gatorade powder so we could fill them with sweet sweet Gatorade at water stops.

SarahK's Bladder
I Have a Bladder!

To also keep me from getting too exhausted, I made sure SarahK carried most of the stuff.

SarahK Loaded

Yah, pack mule! Yah!

Still, SarahK would get ahead of me.

SarahK Waiting

"Hey, I'm stopping to admire the view!" I would tell her, "It is so beautiful and I must take many pictures to show everyone."

There were problems though: the wildlife. Near the top were cute little harmless chipmunks.

Hello Chipmunk

But, throughout the canyon, there were evil evil ground squirrels!

Evil Ground Squirrel

Sorry for that photo being blurry, but my hands were shaking in fright because they carry the plague (it's true; check the last bullet of this official government link). Luckily, SarahK, with the help of jonag, provided me with Squirrel Away.

Squirrel Away Front
Squirrel Away Back

If you don't want to squint to read that, here's what it says:

FRONT

Squirrel Away (c) 2004, SarahK Industries, Jonag, Arizona.

proven effective in 0.5% of cases, as attested to by
1 out of 5 dentists and 0 out of 5 SarahKs. For more information on the evils of ground squirrels and liberals, check out our website at www.ifyouseeagroundsquirrelyouregonnadie.us. Have a great day, and an easy plague death.

Directions: If you see a ground squirrel and can't read the cautions above, you should perform the following, in order. Do not take the steps out of order, or you will die at the hands of Bullwinkle's little friend.
1) Pretend you are on a hopscotch grid, and hop accordingly, but only hop the odd numbers.
2) Throw salt over your left shoulder while saying "N-A-C-L is C-O-O-L". If you don't have salt, fall on your own sword, as you have been defeated by the enemy ground squirrel and can only be honored by taking your own life.
3) Take off both of your shoes, ewwww, put some Odor Eaters in those things and put the shoes back on. If you have no Odor Eaters handy, a handful of red dirt is an adequate substitute.
4) Shake your can... not that can! This one! Shake it vigorously with both hands, then ask your hiking buddy to shake it too. If she refuses, you're gonna die, sorry Frank.
5) Strip down to your boxers (and if you wear briefs, just give up, because only gross sissy boys wear briefs, and you can't defend yourself against a ground squirrel in sissy boy shorts).
6) Whatever you do, DO NOT spray the contents of this can on yourself or the ground squirrel.

BACK

Caution: Ground squirrels are vicious and carry bubonic plague. If you get a ground squirrel on you, just give up, because you're going to die. This spray will do you no good.

Caution #2: Do not feed ground squirrels in the Grand Canyon (if that is where you happen to be), because SarahK will report you to a Park Ranger, and you will be fined up to $5,000. If you see someone else feeding a ground squirrel in the Grand Canyon, report this person to a Park Ranger (unless the person is SarahK, then just look away and pretend you saw nothing). After reporting the lawbreaker to the Park Ranger, run and hide behind a big rock so you don't get your pinky-toe kicked.

Caution #3: You may think you see a ground squirrel, but if it slithers instead of prancing, has scales instead of fur, and makes a sound like a baby rattle, back away slowly, because that, my friend, is no squirrel. It's Lord Voldemort, and you're gonna die unless a nice wizard boy comes to save you.

Caution #4: As wizards are afraid of heights, they don't go anywhere near the Grand Canyon.

Caution #5: Guard your trail mix with your life. If a fast squirrel sneaks away with some of your trail mix, chase after it with a trekking pole (but only an official trekking pole, a branch broken off a nearby tree is not proper for chasing ground squirrels). When you get within striking distance of the squirrel, give up, because you've just chased a bubonic-plague carrier, and you're going to die. Sorry about that.

I didn't read any of the directions, though, and just sprayed it on the squirrel. Luckily, I had a voice recorder running so you can hear what happened.

Audio of Spraying the Squirrel

What SarahK was scared of was the dreaded asp, a poisonous caterpillar. Here is one next to my size 10 boot and white hairy leg so you can get a size comparison.

The Asp!

Ooh! So scary (not).

Also, SarahK would stop every so often, sniff the air, and say, "I smell cat pee. There must be a mountain lion nearby."

And I'd be like, "Whatever, Wolverine." (we weren't even attacked by a mountain lion once).

Soon, we came to a bridge. What a great view from the bridge!

Me on the Bridge with the Great View

SarahK is scared of heights, so she crossed the bridge quickly... especially since I was shaking it.

SarahK Crossing the Bridge

"Quick, SarahK; the bridge is going to collapse!" Heh heh.

We then hiked along some cliffs with so many more gorgeous views.

Me Enjoying View from a Cliff
SarahK Likes the View Too

And then I saw a cactus!

A Cactus!

Also, quite expectedly, we cast shadows.

Us Casting Shadows

There were problems though, namely the death plants!

Death Plants

They have little spikes on their sides, but it's the tip of the leaves that are the sharpest. They're like little daggers. I still have a little owie worthy of a purple heart on my palm from when I accidentally touched one.

Another weird thing is what I named the death stalks.

Death Stalk

They had what looked like a death plant at the base, and then this huge stalk sticks out of it. Most were dead or dying, though. I wonder why?

I also saw a tree.

A Tree

And electric poles.

Electric Pole

The canyon needs to modernize its electrical system.

Later we came to a stream that terminated to a little puddle. The puddle was so small, I wondered how it could supply water for a stream, but it ended up that water was bubbling up from underneath it.

Bubble Puddle

Then I saw a lizard! A big one!

Big Lizard

I bet it was a gilla monster, and poisonous! That's why it was so funny when I put it on SarahK's neck.

Eventually, we made it to Cottonwood where we set up camp. SarahK was like, "I'm tired!"

And I said, "But we must journey to see the unseen!"

Thus we hiked more than a mile further to see Ribbon Falls, and then climbed a treacherous cliff face to get a better picture. It was so beautiful! (sorry, I don't have a picture of me taking pictures of it)

Man, everything was so beautiful in the canyon. Even the sky!

Canyon Sky

Sorry that a bit of cliff marred that picture. I just wish you could see all I saw. It was a real life changing event.

At night, SarahK and I lay on a picnic table and watched the starry sky. We saw shooting stars and even satellites flying across the sky. One day, S.M.I.T.E. could be one of those satellites.

It was a little chilly, so I told SarahK. "You know, we could share a tent, take off our clothes, and..."

When I was knocked off the table, I landed right on a big snake. I may have crushed him, or he may have always been that flat.

I then went to bed, sure I'd be rested and not sore at all for the hike back up the cliffs tomorrow. What an easy day tomorrow would be.

The fool I was…

COMING SOON - ESCAPE FROM THE CANYON!

UPDATE: Here's SarahK's version.

Current samurai lord George W. Bush was to have said:

We must take the battle to the enemy, disrupt his plans and confront the worst threats before they emerge.

That there's strategery!

Just so everyone is clear, the Chomps design is settled on, colored, and pretty much ready for printing. The sketches are just to show you the process that led to the final design by Brian Tiemann.

"Everybody have fun tonight!" Bush yelled as he danced at the convention, "Everybody Wang-Chung tonight!"

Rumsfeld dropped a dead terrorist at Bush's feet. "Found this."

"Was he a suicide bomber?"

"All I know is he committed suicide when he came near me!" Rumsfeld growled.

"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you," Bush said, "Al Qaeda has decided to target you!"

"What!" Rumsfeld yelled. "Rarr!" He then ran out of the convention hall.

"What's up with him?" Scott McClellan asked as he walked towards Bush.

"I dunno and I don't care; it's time to party!"

"Well, we still have to deal with the ad controversy," Scott said, "There are the Swift Vet ads and then the ads saying you were AWOL..."

"I wasn't AWOL!" Bush shot back, "I flew jets and they went 'Zoooom!'"

"Yeah, but there is a five month period in 1972 where there are no pay records and..."

"I didn't get paid!" Bush shouted, "I won't tolerate that! Let's go to that base in Alabama and get my pay!"

Bush ran off and Scott quickly followed. "But what about the convention?"

* * * *

"This just in: Al Jazeera is showing a grainy video of a man going by the pseudonym 'Donald Rumsfeld.' He says he will kill all terrorists until his demands are met - that all terrorists die. More on this as it evolves."

* * * *

"Hello, Lt. Bush, haven't seen you in a while."

"You owe me money, Major Dunbar!" Bush yelled, "and I want it now!"

"Let me check the records." Dunbar opened a file cabinet. "I don't have records for a certain period..."

"I was here and I want my money!"

* * * *

"We go now to CNN reporter Lefty Stevens for live coverage from the Middle East."

"Terror has come to the terrorists," Stevens pronounced, "and it isn't pretty. Everywhere they lie strangled, RPG's unfired, bombs unexploded. We talk now with terrorist Mohammed something or other."

"It's horrible," Mohammed said, "All I want is to kill Americans and jooos, but now I'm scared to leave my home!"

"Without terrorism, the Middle East has lost its second biggest export," Stevens stated, "France is condemning this terrorism against terror and blaming it on Bush... as do I and all of CNN."

* * * *

"Bush is Hitler!"

"You get away from me!" Laura yelled, swatting at the protesters with her purse.

"Back off now or I'll bust a cap up your ass!" Jenna Bush yelled as she pulled out a chrome .45.

"You put that away and be a lady!" Laura said as she tapped Jenna on the head. "And Barbara, you put away that knife."

Barbara rolled her eyes. "Yes, mother."

Laura's cell phone then rang. "Hello?"

"Laura! I'm in prison again!" Bush yelled.

"What now?"

"They charged me with hitting an officer."

"How did that happen?"

"Well, I... uh... hit an officer... but he owed me money!"

"What did I tell you about hitting?"

"I know. So, can you come bail me out? Scott got thrown in with me on the charge of being doughy."

"It certainly would be quite a spectacle for you to give your convention speech from a prison," Laura chided, "You think about what you did while I come get you." Laura put away her phone and looked to her daughters. "I have to bail out your father again. Now you two behave."

"Yes, mother."

Laura then spotted something. "Donald! What did I tell you about dragging dead terrorists into the convention hall?"

Who can take the immortal world's angriest dog and make him real? Well, Brian Tiemann, PowerPuff Girls pencil in hand, took up that challenge. He first sent me this as his conception of Chomps.

Chomps, Take 1

I was quite impressed. I thought the chains were two busy, though, and I wanted more of a growl than a bark. Thus I asked Brian if he could try revising it. And he did.

Chomps, Take 2

Well, moving in the right direction, but the mouth and ears are too big (or the head is too small). Also, it's a little two cartoony. So Brian took another try.

Chomps, Take 3

Okay, better, but now he looks more like a bulldog (I want a rottweiler). And I'm not feeling the growl. I want him to stare right at me and look like he's about to explode. Brian tried again.

Chomps, Take 4

Now he is looking forward, but he appears more startled than angry. Also, he's lost his dogginess and looks more like an ogre. At this point, I started calling Brian a no talent hack, and he responded by making unflattering statements about my mother.

Will Chomps ever get drawn?

TO BE CONTINUED...

IMAO now has a favicon. For IE users, bookmark IMAO (well, rebookmark it) to see it. Mozilla users should see it right away. I hear I should switch to Mozilla, and, knowing about computer security, I know I should switch to Mozilla. Then again, knowing all I know about computer security, I should never touch a computer and just use pen and paper. Give thanks to Chad of Pass the Ammo for the favicon.

Also, there are now more IMAO random quotes from May 2003. I guess I just got a lot funnier about that time as it's taking so long to add all the quotes.

Finally and most importantly, there is now an IMAO FAQ with answers! Check it out and write in the comments any questions you think I left out.

It's the primaries in Florida tomorrow. Anyone following Florida politics and know which Republican candidate for Senator I should vote for? Right now, I'm planning on voting for Mel Martinez because he seems to be the Bush endorsed candidate and I like mindlessly following my party.

Just gave blood today. I have super, extra negative blood (O negative, CMV negative) which is great for everyone else and babies, but sucks for me. If I need blood, I'm like screwed because I can only take my own type. So make sure to give blood to ensure I'm always around to write more inane posts like this one.

Some days I just want to get together a posse with a bunch of shotguns, fly down to the Middle East, and clean house.

Hell, most days.

Master samurai General George Sakyo Patton Jr. was to have said:

War is an art and as such is not susceptible of explanation by fixed formula.

As is humor. Also, it's art that isn't boring.

Now that the Republican National Convention has started, everyone is looking to me saying, "What are we going to do, Frank J.?" Well, I'll tell you what to do to make it a successful convention:

* To show compassionate conservatism, let the orphans out of the orphanage before you do your ceremonial orphanage burning.

* To keep there from being inter-party squabbling, give every delegate a turn at the high-powered hose aimed at the hippies.

* Make sure Arnold doesn't use his mighty muscles to crush the head of anyone you may need later.

* Terrorists are planning to attack, so make sure everyone has guns.

* If someone says you shouldn't have guns in NYC, remind him that everyone has guns so SHUT UP!

* Make sure to pledge to cut taxes, because I hate paying taxes.

* Remember: If anyone says he likes paying taxes, he's a terrorist! Kill him!

* Disputes about the party platform should be settled by kung fu!

* When Bush gives his speech, have him seated at a throne atop a pile of the skulls of our defeated enemies.

* You might have to adjust the teleprompter for that last one.

* Between speeches, have Saddam come out on stage and dance for your entertainment. Yes, dance, you little monkey! Dance!

* Fire is cool. Have fire somewhere.

* If anything goes wrong, blame it on Hagel and publicly beat him. I hate Hagel.

* His name rhymes with bagel.

* If the protestors get too loud, drown them out by throwing them in the river so they drown.

* Make sure to have motion detectors up in the rafters so ninjas can't sneak in. Ninjas can ruin any party.

* Have the NRA keep bugging Bloomberg with "Can we shoot the hippies?" until he caves in and says yes.

* To send protestors elsewhere, put up signs saying "NYC That-a-way!" and point it to the barren wastelands of Jersey where they shall surely die.

* Democrats are always saying Republicans are for polluted air and water. To prove them wrong, publicly beat them.

* Make sure no one says anything bad about the Yankees because Giuliani will beat him to death with a tire iron.

* Caution: Hillary Clinton lives in New York, and her gaze can turn a man to stone just like the beast of legends old - Dukakis!

* To keep anyone from speaking past his or her allotted time, have Rumsfeld ready in the sidelines, hands tense for a strangling.

* Remind the American people that the true measure of a president's worth can be counted in dead for'ners.

* Put the swift boat vets to good use sailing the harbor and strafing protestors.

* Try to spot Democrat infiltrators. Look towards the press room.

* The networks are limiting convention coverage, so try disguising some speeches as popular sitcoms to trick the networks into airing them.

* To show patriotism, unveil new robotic flag that burns protestors.

* Balloons! Politics needs lots of red, white, and blue balloons!

* No, you're not understanding me! More balloons! More! Muh ha ha ha!

So what topics would you like to hear the Republicans talk about at the convention? I want to hear about space lasers!

Samurai P.J. O'Rourke was to written in his tome Give War a Chance this wisdom about the Middle East:

Until 1918 the Arabian peninsula was ruled by the Ottoman Empire, so called because it had the same amount of intelligence and energy as a footstool. When the Turks backed the wrong horse in World War I, the French and English divvied up the region in a manner both completely self-serving and unbelievably haphazard, like monkeys at a salad bar. The huge, senseless notch in Jordan's border with Saudi Arabia, for instance, is known as 'Winston's Hiccup' because the then head of the British Colonial Office, Winston Churchill, is supposed to have drawn this line on a map after a very long lunch.

Okay, I only quoted that because I like the phrase "like monkeys at a salad bar."

Okay, I have this weird tree in my front yard.

The Tree

Earlier this summer, it bloomed with these giant white flowers (big as yer head!). But they only lasted for about a day before withering and becoming ugly.

Now, I find these weird (but pretty) pods on the tree.

Pretty Pods

They also grotesquely decay, revealing bright red seeds or something.

Decayed Pod

I took these pictures a couple days ago, and the most of the pods are now decayed husks lying on the ground. Any idea what this tree is?

Dark Helmet, who is a parody of a character whose helmet is based on samurai gear, was to have said:

Evil will always triumph over good because good is dumb.

Beware: this is the motto of the muckadoos! Do not be drawn in by their dark call... for they are dumb! Always keep in mind the most important thing: Merchandising!

* Rumsfeld deals with Al Qaeda threats against him!
* The Chomps predesigns and then final t-shirt design will be revealed!
* New comic!
* New Frank editorial!
* Hear the adventures of Frank J. and SarahK into the Grand Canyon!
* And maybe - just maybe - the return of Yvonne's Ashes!

All that, and wacky weekend fun. See you later, ronin!

Previous Episode

* * * *

August 20th, 2004
Friday

Got up early and turned on CNN's poor substitute for FOX and Friends. Started some coffee brewing in the little coffee maker most hotel rooms have and took a shower. Then I dressed in the same clothes I wore the day before and tried to use the Delta overnight pack to make myself decent. I wasn't able to figure out the weird comb/brush it came with, and it seemed to do nothing to my head except annoy my scalp. Also, the poor razor in there ended up making my neck look like it had a close run in with Freddy Krueger.

Got to the airport and onto my flight with no problems. Actually, I got the exit row which had me board with the first class passengers and gave me plenty of leg room. The legs liked that (poor fools; they had no idea what was in store for them).

After landing in Albuquerque, I quickly made my way past security. I wondered if I would easily be able to spot SarahK, my only mental image of her being wearing a black t-shirt. We spotted each other immediately though. We had a platonic handshake and then proceeded to on with our completely platonic IMAO Employee Team-Building Trip 2004. We were out of the airport pretty quickly; apparently my luggage made the connection and was waiting for me.

First stop was to get the last of the needed hiking gear. SarahK already had most things together as it was her job, but I still needed a pack. So we headed to REI, SarahK making about three laps around 'querque before finding the destination. During that drive, she talked to a friend of hers on her cell phone. My keen cryptographic knowledge made it obvious they were talking in code about me. Nasty trickies women!

Once we went in the REI store, it became quite apparent that the 'K' in SarahK stands for Klutz as she tripped into about every supply rack in the store. While she kept picking herself off the ground, I got a bandana (you wet it to keep yourself cool or put it over your face to rob trains), a Thermorest mattress, and a two-day pack so I could carry plenty of stuff (the fool I was).

When I got to the cashier, I decided to ask him a question that had been vexing me.

"So, this 'New' Mexico - what exact improvements does it have over the previous Mexico?"

The clerk stared at me dumbly while SarahK seemed to have buried her face in the counter. Perhaps she fell on it. I then asked the clerk where the nearest Indian restaurant was so we could have some lunch. He drew us a map so exact it only took SarahK two laps around the city to find it.

Picture of Indian Restaurant

"I love Indian food!" SarahK exclaimed, "Let's get the buffet!"

"It looks expensive, but okay," I replied.

After about three bites from one plate, SarahK said, "Okay, I'm full."

"You didn't even have one plate!" I yelled, "Three plate minimum for a buffet or you're just wasting your money."

"Well, I'm full, silly head."

I filled myself between grumbling and then we headed out onto the open road towards the Grand Canyon.

SarahK Driving
Me in Shotgun (I'm wearing the hat since I was never able to comb my hair right)

On the way, there were plenty of cliffs and mountains, and I thought them so beautiful as to take some pictures. Here are a few of them:

Picture1
Picture2
Picture3

Little did I know that this was but excrement of the greater site we would see the next day.

It was a long drive, but we had plenty of music. SarahK had a large folder of burned, stolen music of the Dave Matthews Band and played some for me so I would be familiar with it in time for the concert. One song she played was "So Much to Say" which I informed her was about being gay.

"No it isn't, you goofy goof."

"Listen to the lyrics. He's singing about being stuck in a closet. He's practically hitting the listener over the head with the metaphors."

"Uh-uh. He says 'baby' in it so it’s about babies! Now you be quiet, grumpy gills!"

When we stopped for gas, we also went to a Dairy Queen for dessert.

Dairy Queen

"I love Blizzards!" SarahK squealed with glee, "Get me the biggest one they have!"

"Okay."

She took three nibbles and then said, "Okay, I had enough."

"Damn you to Hades, food waster!"

It was darker, and there was less to see. SarahK had talked about how she wanted to try out for American Idol, so I asked her to sing. She wouldn't do it, so I sang the Beatles "Rocky Raccoon." Now, it would only be proper team building if she sang too. She asked me to name a song to see if she knew the lyrics, knowing very well I hate music and can't name any songs. I asked her if she knew that overplayed song Celine Dion sang from Titanic that always made me want to claw my ears off every time I heard it.

Ha! She knew it.

SarahK made me put my hat over my face and pretend I was sleeping before she would start singing. Now, I wasn't expecting too much, having watched the usual contestants for American Idol, but SarahK sang with such beauty that I actually liked that song... whatever it’s called. Her singing was a complete joy... and then a moth the size of a fist slammed into our windshield and got stuck in the windshield wiper.

The Moth

Well, not long after I removed that mess, we were driving along the Grand Canyon, but all I could see was darkness and nothing more. Seemed to be a silly thing to go see, anyway. I mean, when you go to a mountain, you're at least seeing something - the mountain. For a canyon, you’re going to see what ain't there.

"Hey, look at all this that should be here but ain't! Isn't that beautiful?"

My thoughts on the subject were soon lost in the freezing cold. Apparently, it gets quite frigid at 8,000 feet in August. Not knowing this, I had only packed for the warmth. Hands numb and shaking, we assembled our tents at the campsite at the top of the North Rim. I told SarahK, "You know, if were in the same tent, we could share body heat to keep warm. It would work even better if we took off our clothes and..."

The slap to the face distracted me from the cold for a while longer. I got in my tent on my Thermorest mattress and SarahK gave me a very warm blanket about the size of handkerchief.

"S-So c-c-cold."

Eventually I fell asleep. Apparently I snored, and SarahK tried to wake me so I wouldn't attract bears. Luckily, neither her yelling or the bear shaking my tent roused me, and I got some sleep.

NEXT WEEK - INTO THE CANYON

UPDATE: SarahK has her version of the day up.

Apparently not satisfied with being the IMAO T-Shirt Babe, SarahK is going to go to the tryouts for the next season of American Idol and needs your help picking a song.

I say she should sing, "She Bang!"

Samurai philosopher Geroge Orwell was to have said:

All political thinking for years past has been vitiated in the same way. People can foresee the future only when it coincides with their own wishes, and the most grossly obvious facts can be ignored when they are unwelcome.

A fool may as well be a blind man.

"Sir, the Swift Boat Veterans for Truth have set the east wing of this house on fire," John Kerry's butler told him.

"Bah! It will take hours until it reaches here, Jeeves," Kerry answered, "I wonder why they hate me so. I remember my years in Vietnam as a great experience. In fact, it's seared - seared - in my memory."

Kerry leaned back in his chair to reminisce.

* * * *

"I thought we were going to patrol the beach," John Kerry complained, "This jungle climate is a hazard on my skin."

"This is where the enemy are," answered one of his crewmates, "We need to hunt them down."

"There are some chickens on the shore," Kerry pointed out, "Let's shoot them and say they were Vietnamese."

"We can't waste ammo! You replaced most of our supplies with skin and hair products."

"I hate it here," Kerry grumbled as he applied cherry flavored lip balm. "I can't wait to get back to the states and marry a rich woman." He handed the lip balm to one of his crewmates. "Hold this for me, Jimmy, while I check on the other boats."

Suddenly there was an explosion as a mine hit one of the boats. "Ahh! Noise! Flee!" Kerry shouted as he took the helm, turned the boat around, and hit full throttle. One crewman fell off the boat in the ruckus.

"Jimmy is in the water!" a crewman yelled, "Since there isn’t even any enemy fire, we need to go back and get him!"

"Don't tell me what to do," Kerry answered, enraged, "I'm serving in Vietnam!" He then thought for a moment. "Wait. He had my lip balm!" Kerry quickly turned to boat around. He then ran over to the side of the boat and reached to pull Jimmy out of the water.

"You saved my life!" Jimmy exclaimed.

"Now where is my lip balm!"

"I... uh... dropped it."

"Idiot! Don't you know who I am?" Kerry lifted his hand to strike Jimmy, but then noticed something on his arm. "I've been wounded!"

"I don't see anything."

Kerry quickly covered it up. "I need to preserve it to get another purple heart!"

* * * *

"I even wrote about that day in my diary, Jeeves." Kerry opened his diary and read to his butler. "The Vietcong were firing on me from both sides of the river, and I took three bullets as I reached for Jim Rassman with one hand while firing back in the other, killing 32 Vietnamese. I was the only one to have any kills, since all the other boats cowardly fled."

"Excellent story, sir."

"You suck, Kerry!" a voice yelled from outside.

"Why are they so angry at me?" Kerry asked, "Is it because I tried to get their book Unfit for Command suppressed? Hey, I tried to get my own book The New Soldier suppressed, so I am even handed, right, Jeeves."

"Certainly, sir." Kerry’s butler looked out the window. “There seems to be some dog sniffing around outside, too.”

"I don’t care who they have with them. They just didn't like my protesting after the war, but it was very principled!"

* * * *

"Hey, you're a fellow veteran!" Kerry exclaimed, "Can I see your medals for a moment."

"Sure."

Kerry then ran in front of some cameras. "This is what I think of the medals awarded to me!" he yelled as he chucked the medals over the wall.

"Those are my medals!"

"And this is what I think of my ribbons!"

"That's my wallet, you bastard!"

* * * *

Kerry walked to his window and yelled at the Swift Boat vets, "Don't you know who I am!"

A brick flew through the window and hit him in the head, knocking him to the ground.

"I think they know who you are, sir," Kerry's butler replied, "That's part of the problem."

Kerry picked himself off the ground. "I don't deserve this! I'm married to a billionaire! They're just jealous because I got all the T.V. coverage."

* * * *

"I would just like to say that there were many war crimes," Kerry told congress, "Soldiers were baby killers, even. Why we once came upon a town filled with nothing but babies and slaughtered them all!"

"Mr. Kerry," said one of the congressmen, "could you please not get your hair styled while testifying to us?"

"But I want his hair to be fabulous!" exclaimed Kerry's hairdresser.

* * * *

"I just can't believe these Swift Boat Veterans protesting me!" Kerry yelled, "I served in Vietnam! They can't speak up against me, right, Jeeves?"

Jeeves didn't answer, so Kerry looked towards him.

"You don't have your butler uniform on properly, Jeeves. You need to fix that."

The butler just stood there.

"And why are you down on all fours... and showing your teeth like that. You look angry."

Kerry stared at him further.

"Very angry… AHH! I SERVED IN VIETNAM!”

New blog war!

Actually, hooray! Down with evil puppy blender and his slander!

Time to tell you to visit all my advertisers again. If you don't, Chomps will die of heartworm disease.

The Coalition of the Willing is back letting you give thanks to our best British friend since Margaret Thatcher.

Also, I now have JC T-Shirts from our own Brian J. advertising his World Hegemony t-shirt, and I can say it is a very cool t-shirt because I just got one in the mail. Check it out and the other selections at JC T-Shirts (one's funny but too rude for me to repeat).

Go! You check advertisers now!

We're not worthy!

August 19th, 2004
Thursday

I left work early to catch a flight to Atlanta and then to Albuquerque, New Mexico. Only problem was the flight out of Melbourne had "mechanical trouble." No problem, they said; should only get us there ten minutes late. I stopped at the Melbourne bar and had a Guinness while watching an Italian and a Japanese man compete in archery from 70 meters (is that far?). There I had a conversation with someone who worked with airports before and told me all about how Atlanta hires plenty of felons for the jobs there and they all come through a backdoor with no metal detectors.

Hmm. Fun to know. I hope our felons are patriotic, at least.

I finally get on my plane and land in Atlanta with fifteen minutes left until my next flight leaves. We exited at terminal C, and I needed to get to A. Time for a mad dash. Now, I had a couple factors against me. I was wearing my hiking boots to help break them in, and I had my briefcase with my laptop in it... a quite heavy one. My laptop was made for operating at high speeds, but not moving at it. So I dash for the ground level that connects the terminals, jostling a few people along the way, and stopped by people loitering on the escalator (I seriously considered sliding down the side).

Down to the underground that connect the vast Atlanta terminals, I had a choice between the tram and the moving walkways. I didn't like the idea of standing still, so I made the run down the walkways.

"Out of my way! I'm Frank J.!"

Finally I shove my way up the escalator to terminal A and then run for gate 27, my feet and briefcase becoming heavier with each step.

23... 25... Almost there... Ahh! A series of shops before 27! Must... run... further...

As one of my lungs nears bursting, I present my boarding pass to the attendant saying, "I'm... for... the flight... to... Albuquerque."

"Sorry, sonny boy, but that one just left the gate."

I checked my watch. I still had a minute! I hobbled to the window and watched the plane roll away. Taking a deep breath, I shouted, "Damn you!" while shaking my fist.

Still trying to regain my breath, I stumbled to the Delta desk. "Any... other... flights... to... Albuquerque?"

"None until tomorrow. We could have you out to Dallas at 7:30am and there you could get to Albuquerque by about 10:20am."

"No... connections… I... never took... track & field."

"Direct flight leaves here at 10:30am and gets there about 11:30am."

"Gimme!"

That makes two times in a row I got stuck in Atlanta. Since the trouble was mechanical, they put me up in a Holiday Inn with a voucher for $10 for dinner and $4 for breakfast (will that even buy a McDonalds value meal at an airport?). The whole time I keep trying to call SarahK on my cell phone to tell her, "Abort pickup! I repeat: abort!" Her voicemail of, "Sorry, I can't get your call right now. You'll call me back... I mean I'll call you back, hee hee..." kept getting less cute each time I heard it.

After eating a halfway decent Rueben at Holiday Inn's restaurant, I settled in my room. The T.V. had CNN but no FOX News. I hate CNN. Then again, they're based in Atlanta.

Finally, I get a call back from SarahK. "Where were you?" I demanded.

"There was no cell phone reception between Amarillo and Albuquerque, silly billy."

"Then why didn't you bring a satellite phone for such a condition? Your lack of foresight could ruin this team building trip!"

"Oh, you're a goofy head. So, you won't make it here today? I'm having a great hair day and you need to see it!"

"No! I'm stuck in Atlanta! This happens so often, I might as well declare residency here. Well, you'll have to fend for yourself in Albuquerque; if anyone looks at you funny, stab him with a shiv. Also, replan things around my late arrival."

"Okey dokey. Ba-bye!"

I asked for a 7:30 wake up call and went to bed. At least I'd get some sleep.

SarahK took a picture of what I missed by getting there late.

American Hottie

Damn you, Delta! Damn you!

Well, us meeting face to face would have to wait for another day...

TOMORROW - DESTINATION: HOLE IN THE GROUND

UPDATE: SarahK's version

Todays' wisdom is from great samurai general George Washington:

Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence. True friendship is a plant of slow growth, and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation.

Your trust and your confidence is a prize that must be won through great hardship.

BTW, I'd like a list of some other great samurai I should be looking up quotes from.

Kerry has once again called for Rumsfeld to resign. Well, Rumsfeld has decided to respond and figured IMAO was the best medium for him to do it on. So, without further ado, here is his response:

It looks like the Chomps shirt design is now done. I just need to get a confirmation from Doug and then I'll begin to premiere it.

Everyone must buy one, BTW.

Okay. RightWingDuck here.

I thought Frank was going to start posting again, but it seems that he won't be back full time until tomorrow.

Former Senator, and current Kerry crony, Max Cleland went to the Bush Ranch to deliver a letter asking him to stop the Swift Boat Veterans recent attacks.

See, this is how John Kerry fought in Vietnam too. He took cover and let other people do the fighting.

Mr. Cleland served in Vietnam. He blew off both legs and an arm when he picked up an American grenade while resting at an American base. To John Kerry, that is war heroism. To us, that’s Workers Comp. Thank you for serving Mr. Cleland.

Here are the things Dubya should have said regarding the Swift Boat Veterans.

Hey, you’re not John Kerry’s regular butler

I’m sorry. We’ll have to form a multinational coalition to deal with this problem.

Mr. Kerry, ask yourself this, “WWFD. What Would France Do?”

Make up your mind. When it comes to our Vietnam Experiences, do you want me to ‘Bring It On’ – or “Make it Stop’?

“Have you read any good books lately?”

Mr. Kerry, how do you squeal “uncle” in French?

What bothers you more about the Swift Boat Veterans. That they were in Vietnam with you or that they actually fought the enemy?

Pretend that the Swift Boat Veterans are a hostile foreign country – to whom would you complain? The United Nations? France? Me?

If the Swift Boat Veterans hurt you three times will you be packing your bags and going home -like you did in Vietnam?

I’m sorry. I’m watching Fahrenheit 9/11 right now. Did you have a complaint of some kind?

Mr. Cleland should be careful. Anybody who serves with John Kerry ends up getting denounced by him.

Just a few observations. :)

Okay. This is my last post. Visit me at www.rightwingduck.com. Don't be strangers.

Today's wisdom comes from honorable samurai philosopher Dave Barry:

The weightlifting competition I saw was the women's 63 kg class. I'm not sure whether this means the actual women weighed 63 kg or the weights they lifted weighed 63 kg. Or possibly the temperature in the weightlifting hall was 63 kg. There's no way to know for sure without finding out what a ''kg'' is, and my belief, as an American, is that if I have to start understanding the metric system, then the terrorists have won.

Thanks to Best of the Web for pointing this one out.

Hi Gang, RightWingDuck posting on our final Guest Blogging day. Frank J. has returned!

Harvey just posted about terrorists and things you should know - memorize these and know them well.

Interesting because, I’ve been housing a foreign exchange student from a Middle Eastern Madrasa. As you know Madrasas are fundamentalist Islamist Schools that train young terrorists.

He’s here attending UCLA. He either wants to blow himself up or be a politician. Or, maybe he can do both - like Howard Dean!

Here are some things I have learned from this young man about his Madrasa - Blowup High!

Madrasas: An Educational Primer

Madrasas are great places for child care – instead of Playdoh they use C-4. These projects are then used by the older students. There’s nothing like blowing something up knowing it was done by a cute little bunny.

Madrasa students learn how to wear and detonate explosive vests.

Although explosive vests are popular, they think that the next trend will be explosive ponchos – with matching hat of course.

Sometimes a student will accidentally blow himself up. This is embarrassing and entails a lot of messy cleanup!

Not coincidentally, the favorite wall color at a Madrasa is dark reddish brown.

In a Madrasa the phrase, "You want a piece of me?" is not a challenge to fight. After suicide missions, students are allowed to keep a piece of their friend as a souvenir.

The favorite sport at Blowup High is soccer. They pretend the ball is a Jewish head or sometimes just George Bush.

The cheerleading squad has a great following at all of the soccer games. They wear full Burquas but on occasion you can catch a slight glimpse of ankle.

Showing ankle is subject to honor killing, but instructors understand that these are growing boys who need release.

The Madrasa Dorms have a big problem dealing with pornography. The big thing now for the young men is a fascination with Bur-qa-ki. No details. Too graphic.

Sometimes for fun, the older kids will go Camel Tipping.

Anything else the camel tells you is a damn lie!

Many Madrasas barely even taught their kids to read. That is until the passing of the No Madrasa Left Behind program. The instructors opposed standardized testing.

The school mascot is Kenny the Camel. They love the way he foams at the mouth when he screams.

That's also why they like Al Gore.

A portrait of George Bush sits in each Madrasa. Hitting the forehead is good for 50 points.

A portrait of John Kerry sits in Madrasas also.

The Terrorists for Kerry activity group is one of the fastest growing clubs on each campus. Come to the next event – bring a pie!

As you know, Frank J. is back. Hurray! Welcome back, Frank.

What? You want your blog back? Nooooooooooooooooooooooo

Which brings me to my final note.

It has been fun posting to this site. I hope you have laughed just a bit and enjoyed my humor. If you have, I hope that you will bookmark www.rightwingduck.com and visit each afternoon. If not, than you are obviously questioning my patriotism and are working in conjunction with the evil Republicans.

P.S. Vote Republican!

Wow, that was the most excruciating, painful, and tiring first date team-building exercise have I've ever been through. Still I declare it a complete success, and I think we, the employees of IMAO, have come up with great ideas to improve shareholder value.

Anyway, I'm still sore, I was extremely late for work, I haven't been following the news, and McDonalds gave me cream and sugar for my coffee when I specifically said no cream and sugar, so no more posts from me today… probably. If Harvey and rightwingduck could post some more today, I'd appreciate it. I haven't had a chance to read all they wrote while I was gone, but it looks like they did a great job. Also, traffic didn't surge while they posted, which would suck because that means you like them better than me.

Tomorrow I'll get back to regular posting and tell you all about the IMAO Employee Team-Building Trip 2004 (with pictures). I'm sure SarahK will have some thing to say until then, but remember that I'm the only one who always tells the truth.

To leave you something, here's a song I wrote about the Grand Canyon

THE SUPER FUN GRAND CANYON

One evening as the sun went down
And the jungle fires were burning,
Down the track came a hobo hiking,
And he said, "Boys, I'm not turning
I'm headed for a land that's far away
Besides the crystal fountains
So come with me, we'll go and see
The Super Fun Grand Canyon

In the Super Fun Grand Canyon,
There's a land that's fair and bright,
Where the handouts grow on bushes
And you sleep out every night.
Where the boxcars all are empty
And the sun shines every day
And the birds and the bees
And the cigarette trees
The lemonade springs
Where the bluebird sings
In the Super Fun Grand Canyon.

In the Super Fun Grand Canyon
All the cops have wooden legs
And the bulldogs all have rubber teeth
And the hens lay soft-boiled eggs
The farmers' trees are full of fruit
And the barns are full of hay
Oh I'm bound to go
Where there ain't no snow
Where the rain don't fall
The winds don't blow
In the Super Fun Grand Canyon.

In the Super Fun Grand Canyon
You never change your socks
And the little streams of alcohol
Come trickling down the rocks
The brakemen have to tip their hats
And the railway bulls are blind
There's a lake of stew
And of whiskey too
You can paddle all around it
In a big canoe
In the Super Fun Grand Canyon

In the Super Fun Grand Canyon,
The jails are made of tin.
And you can walk right out again,
As soon as you are in.
There ain't no short-handled shovels,
No axes, saws nor picks,
I'm bound to stay
Where you sleep all day,
Where they hung the jerk
That invented work
In the Super Fun Grand Canyon.

UPDATE: SarahK is already spreading filthy lies. I should have my account of last Thursday and Friday up tomorrow.

(A final Guest Post by Harvey of Bad Example)

To celebrate Frank J's return, I'm saying farewell with something I posted back in April at Bad Money, taking off on Frank's Fun Facts About Terrorists T-shirt. Which everybody should buy several of. Anyway, you guys should enjoy this:

*************************

Terrorists often shout "Allah Akbar" just before attacking, which is Arabic for "I'm a dumbass"

Terrorists will often be seen wearing curly-toed, green felt shoes with bells, much like Christmas elves, except more explosive.

Terrorists are usually young men of Middle-Eastern descent, but not always, so as a precaution you should randomly put your hand down women's pants to check for C4.

Large groups of children make prime targets for terrorists. If you see a large group of children, scatter them with a stink bomb for their own good.

The best way to prevent terrorist attacks is by passing strongly worded legislation. Please support the "Don't Blow People Up Act"

If you see a terrorist carrying a bomb, hit him with a rolled up newspaper and rub his nose in it while saying "No! Bad!"

Some people think that reasoned discourse is the best way to deal with terrorism. They are either French or stupid. Either way, ignore them.

On the off chance that the French are right, ship all terrorists to France for a good talking to.

When shipping terrorists, be sure to cut air holes in the container before covering the holes over with duct tape.

If the terrorist being shipped starts saying something like "Help! I can't breathe!", don't be alarmed, because that's actually Arabic for "I am happy to be going to France for a good talking to."

Not everyone who shouts "Die American Pigs!" is a terrorist. He might be a commie, a hippy, or Al Franken. Shoot him anyway, just to be safe.

If there is someone on the wing of the airplane trying to wreck the engine, he is probably a gremlin, and not a terrorist. Don't shoot him unless you are William Shatner.

The following people are not actually terrorists: Alec Baldwin, Barbra Streisand, Michael Moore, and Janeane Garofalo. If you see them, shoot them anyway, because they're damned annoying.

If you're out of bullets, ship them to France.

Use extra duct tape.

Terrorists can often be found in folk bands shaking a wooden hoop ringed with tiny cymbals.

Wait... that's a tambourinist. Don't shoot him because you might run out of bullets, which you'll need if you see Michael Moore.

Poverty is the root cause of terrorism. If you see a poor person, shoot him.

Jews are often victimized by terrorists. If you see a Jew, shoot anyone standing next to him.

Buy a lot of stock in companies that make bullets.

Don't sell the stock, or you'll wind up in jail and Martha Stewart will make you her bitch.

John Kerry is not a terrorist. Don't shoot him, lest the Democrats replace him with a viable Presidential candidate.

Saddam Hussein is a terrorist, but he's been captured, so don't shoot him.

But if you do shoot at him and "accidentally" miss and hit his French lawyer... Hey, I didn't see ANYTHING.

Yasser Arafat isn't a terrorist. He's a... wait... yes he is. Have at him.

Not all terrorists are bad. Some of them are good.

For target practice.

Terrorists would prefer that John Kerry be elected President. If you see someone voting for John Kerry... well, they're probably American citizens and you're probably low on bullets, so just ship them to France. But go easy on the duct tape.

Unless it's Alec Baldwin

*************************

Welcome home, Frank.

We missed you.

...and my legs hurt.

I'll say more after I get some sleepy.

Hi Everyone. Guest Blogger RightWingDuck here...

With the Swift Boat Veterans For Truth organization in the news so much, there have been a lot of questions regarding 527’s and how they function!

Here are some helpful facts for understanding 527’s and their roles in our political landscape.

527’s started off as military airplanes. Not having any practical use they turned to Politics.

John Kerry started off in the military. Not having any practical use, he too turned to politics.

If a 527 hurts you, you may not apply for a Purple Heart. I’m looking at you, Mr. Kerry.

Arguing with 527s is like giving orders to a cat. Nothing happens and you end up looking stupid.

527’s replaced the aging 526s: A law requiring politicians to wear Tiaras.

526’s are still popular in New Jersey and among California Girlie Men.

If you add 527 up, it totals 14. Unless you go to a public school, in which case a teacher will mark it up with purple.

Future 527 regulations will be written in purple as red is seen as too confrontational.

527’s can be good or bad:

A Democrat-oriented 527 group is like sugar and spice and everything nice. George Soros is seen as the grandpapa of the Democratic 527’s.

Grandpapa is also the Socialist word for Sugardaddy.

Republican-oriented 527 groups are evil and look like Hitler. Even the women! Stay away from Republican 527’s even if they offer you candy.

The 528’s come out next year. They’ll come in brighter colors and have more leg room.

I can’t wait. Nothing but good things coming! Unless you’re John Kerry.

(A Guest Post by Harvey of Bad Example)

Since Tony mentioned the Alliance, it brought to mind one of my old Filthy Lies about Glenn Reynolds, that was originally posted last October at my old Bad Money site. There are some inside jokes, but I've included helpful explanatory linkage.

**************************

Via Heather, I became aware of this story. Seemed innocent enough. A man gets bitten by a snake at a Texas Wal-Mart. No big deal, right? But then I noticed that the man's name was Hatchett, which sounds suspiciously like a hobo-murdering tool, so I wondered if it could be an alias for Evil Glenn. I called an inside source and obtained the audio tape from store security. Here's the transcript:

Evil Glenn: Let's see. Need some new shoes... oooooh, these pretty pink open-toed sandals look fabulous! Wonder if they come in a size 10?

Snake: Pssst! Glenn!

Evil Glenn: What the...? A talking snake? Oh, you must be Satan. Hey, sorry about Black Mass the other night. Those candles looked black when I grabbed them. How was I supposed to know they were blueberry-cobbler-scented votives? Even so, I still thought they were plenty evil for a Tuesday night service and…

Snake: Shut up, will ya? I'm not Satan. I'm just a normal talking snake, like you'd find anywhere in Texas.

Evil Glenn: Kinda weird, but ok. What do you want?

Snake: Some of the other snakes asked me to talk to you about that tattoo on your left hand.

Evil Glenn: The one with the two penguins going at it that says "penguinperv.com"?

Snake: Oops. Sorry. I meant your right hand. Being limbless, I get those confused a lot.

Evil Glenn: Oh, you mean the one that shows a penguin using a snake for a sex toy?

Snake: Yeah, that one.

Evil Glenn: Gotta spice things up somehow. Not my fault snakes are so phallic.

Snake: I hear that a lot. But the point is that the members of the Slitherers Anti-Defamation League are really up in arms about this, figuratively speaking, and we think you should get it removed.

Evil Glenn: Look, scale-face, it's my life, my body, and still a free country. I can do whatever the hell I want.

Snake: Don't mess with me, Puppy Blender. I've got 2-inch fangs & more venom than Kate with PMS.

Evil Glenn: Whatever. Go take a hike. Oh. I forgot. You don't have any feet. Heh. Indeed.

Snake: Right! That does it! I'll just chew your damn hand off you miserable, subhuman scumbag!

Evil Glenn: Lawy...

Snake: [BITE! BITE! BITE!]

Evil Glenn: OW! My precious fleshy artwork! Die snake!

[STOMP! STOMP!]

Evil Glenn: Oh geez! My hand's swelling up like Ted Kennedy's head. Hey! You! The Wal-Mart employee in the blue vest! Can I get a snake-bite kit over here?

Wal-Martian: Dude. Like, I'm on break right now.

Evil Glenn: AHHHHH! The pain! I'm dying!

Wal-Martian: Dude! I'm Game-Boying here. Almost finished with level 267 of Tetris. Just chill.

Evil Glenn: Strength... failing... Must... blend... puppy...

Wal-Martian: Dude! Did you, like, just call me a guppy? I am SO not a guppy. As soon as I get off break, I'm kicking your ass.

Evil Glenn: help... dying... puppy... Rosebud... [slumps to floor]

Wal-Martian: Crap! The screen filled up. Game over, man. So, how may I help you?

Evil Glenn: *twitch*

Wal-Martian: Dude! You're like, really messed up & shit. Let me phone my supervisor... Mr. Skinner? Yeah. Looks like we got another snake bit victim in aisle 3... Alive? I dunno. He's still twitching, so I guess so... Pulse?… Just a sec...

[grabs Evil Glenn's wrist]

Dude! Nice penguin porn!

Sadly, Evil Glenn was taken to the hospital where he made a full recovery. But at least now we know the secret of his tattoo, which will make him that much easier to spot next time he does his naked, drunken, bar-top Robot Dancing.

INSTAPUNDO DELENDA EST!

*********************************

More of this silly crap can be found at both my old Bad Money site (see the Filthy Lies category in the right sidebar. Be patient, as load times can be very long, since the Radio host server is gerbil-powered), and also the Filthy Lies category at Bad Example (left sidebar, a little below the calendar).

(A Guest Post by Harvey of Bad Example)

Since you folks seem inordinately entertained by violence against hippies, I was reminded of a piece I posted last October on my old Bad Money blog. It's short, but I think you'll enjoy the mental images it conjures. Here it is, ever so slightly modified:

************************

At Harv's Hippy Cleansing Center, we turn filthy hippies back into productive citizens through the magic of negative reinforcement. Let me just grab my Louisville Slugger ClueBat, and I'll give you a tour:

Here in the Rush Room, we break spirits with 24-7 re-runs of Rush Limbaugh.

Hippy: Please! I'm going crazy! Just let me have five minutes of NPR!

Harv: No! [WHACK!] Bad hippy! [WHACK!] We don't use the N-word here! [WHACK!]

Moving on, we have the cafeteria. Converting vegetarians can be difficult, so we usually start them off with McDonald's hamburgers, which are mostly just sawdust & rat turds anyway.

Hippy: Please! Just one bite of tofu? A bean sprout? Anything that didn't used to have eyes?

Harv: Here, eat this! [WHACK!]

In this room, Emperor Misha is holding a class on Basic Human Decency:

Misha: All right asshats, pop quiz: A Paleswinian explodes on a bus full of kids. Good or Bad?

Hippy: Well, the root causes…

Misha: WRONG! [WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!] There. Now you're smarter.

Harv: Or deader.

Misha: Eh. Whichever.

Well, I gotta go lead a hygiene seminar. Thanks for coming, and ...

Damn hippy! Stop trying to smoke the soap! [WHACK!]

************************

See also the "200 Words or Less" Monthly Archive category in the right sidebar at Bad Money. However, be aware that load times are unconscionably slow, which I why I moved to a new site.

Hello, This is Guest Blogger RightWingDuck with a special post for today!

This is an invitation to join the Alliance!

If you have a blog and you are reading this – you should be part of the Alliance. If you are not – then WHY NOT?

Join it you fool. I piti the foo who don’t join the alliance.

You can learn a career and earn money for college – oh, wait that’s the Army.

Okay, you get to shoot terrorists all day long – oh no, that’s the Marines.

Well, you get to put out a new story every single day – changing it as much as you want. That’s the John Kerry campaign – and it could be YOU if you had your own blog and you joined the Alliance.

Here’s our Hymn to inspire you to greatness.

The Bloggers Alliance Hymn

(Sung to the Tune of the Marine Corps Hymn)

From the booths of Internet Cafes

of Alliance Blog Supreme.

Inspired? You should be! It took me 5 minutes to write that song!

Well, we’re not supreme yet. But with your help, we can do it.

Okay. Let me give you an example of the fun stuff you can do when you blog and join the Alliance.

(A Guest Post by Harvey of Bad Example)

Since Frank J. is taking a few days off, I thought I might help his readers try to understand Frank a little better by taking a look at his home state of Florida. The following information was taken from Google, the Encyclopedia Britannica, or possibly just my own fevered imagination. At any rate, I swear it's all true.

Florida is often referred to as the "Sunshine State". Since, during the summer, it rains every day at 3pm, this is akin to referring to Fahrenheit 9/11 as "a factual and unbiased documentary by the honorable, well-respected, pleasant-smelling, and physically fit filmmaker, Michael Moore".

Florida's state reptile is the alligator, or, as it's affectionately referred to, "the poodle chomper".

Florida is the southernmost of the United States. At least until we annex Cuba, which will happen within 24 hours of that frizzle-whiskered commie bastard Castro's death.

I was just informed by the CIA that I wasn't supposed to disclose that information. Please disregard.

Florida's population is very diverse, comprised equally of whites, blacks, Hispanics, and jack-booted government thugs looking to deport the children of Cuban refugees.

Residents of Florida prefer to be called "Floridians", although they are more commonly known as "Grandma & Grandpa".

Twice yearly, Florida's population is victimized by uncontrollable destructive forces which lay waste to vast swaths of land. These times are known as "hurricane season" and "spring break".

For years, Florida was plagued by a rodent infestation, but thanks to modern pest-control techniques, the problem has been eliminated. Except for a special nature preserve outside of Orlando, where large mice still roam freely.

Florida is STILL plagued by ravenous hordes of giant cockroaches. If you're in Florida and you see a giant cockroach, shoot it. However, don't use anything less than .45 caliber, or you'll just piss it off.

In a fight between Aquaman and a giant cockroach, Aquaman would be neatly cut in half by the roach's steely mandibles of death.

Florida is easy to find on a map. Just look for the state that appears to be desperately in need of a dose of Viagra.

Native Floridians can be spotted in a similar manner.

Or at least Grandpa can.

Florida's state mammal is the rattlesnake, which proves conclusively that butterfly ballots are a bad idea.

Despite it's quaint-sounding name, the Florida Everglades is actually a huge, dank, filthy expanse of smelly, disgusting, pestilence-ridden wetness. Very similar to certain parts of Michael Moore's body that he is currently too fat to reach with a washcloth.

Florida's state tree is the Palm - so named because that's the part of your body that will be scraped raw if you try to climb it.

While in Florida, NEVER try to climb any sort of nut tree.

Finally, if you ever decide to visit Florida, PLEASE leave all monkeys at home. Frank doesn't WANT to have to carve you up with his katana, but he will if he has to.

You've been warned.

Omigosh, Omigosh, omigosh.

You are not going to believe this.

I would have posted this here but I don't have the ability to load images.

Go to my site. Right Now. John Kerry has just held a press conference where he has chosen a new direction.

Unbelievable. "W" might be in trouble.

Hello, RightWingDuck here, guestblogging for the honorable Frank J. as he vacations until Wednesday.

I've been watching the morning news shows and have enjoyed the fact that now AT LAST the country is talking about this Swift Boat Veterans For Truth issue.

John Kerry, went to Vietnam.That much we know. But now we get to see if this guy made up all of his heroics or if it was for real. Hmmm. Well, finding out if somebody is a real war hero is EASY. You see, I'm impressed if you tell me you served on a Naval Warship. I'm less impressed if I find out that Julie McCoy was your Cruise Director.

So the best way to measure your Hero Status is to take the RightWingDuck War Hero Test...

Are You A War Hero? Test?

You are a real war hero: If you suffered battle injuries

You are a fake war hero: If most of those injuries were accidentally caused by you.

You are a real war hero: If you have been awarded medals.

You are a fake war hero: If you unwrap your shiny medals and eat the milk chocolate .

You are a real war hero: If the doctors on the battlefield described your wounds as grave.

You are a fake war hero: If those same doctors described your wound as a "booboo"

You are a real war hero: If you marched down Main Street in a parade.

You are a fake war hero: If the parade involved Disney characters and you were dressed as Pluto.

You are a real war hero: If your wounds required constant attention and changing of field dressings.

You are a fake war hero: If your wound required a Band-aid that came in different colors.

You are a real war hero: If the sailors you once led salute you when they see you.

You are a fake war hero: If they salute using only one finger.

You are a real war hero: If your hometown museum has a picture of you on its walls.

You are a fake war hero: If your picture hangs in our enemy's Wall of Fame.

You are a real war hero: If you returned from Vietnam and drank a beer to honor your buddies still serving.

You are a fake war hero: If you threw the empty beer mug at their heads.

You are a real war hero: If you proudly show your battle scars to your children and grandchildren.

You are a fake war hero: If you can't tell the difference between your scars and your liver spots.

You are a real war hero: If your heroism is re-enacted on the History Channel.

You are a fake war hero: If doing your OWN re-enactment was the bravest thing you ever did.

You are a real war hero: If you finished a gun battle and simply said, "I did my duty."

You are a fake war hero: If "I did my doodie" means you took a dump in the jungle.

There you go, Mr. Kerry. How did you do?

I thought so.

This was originally a two part post. The first part is a serious article about John Kerry. You see, I finally figured out what was bothering me about this guy. I'm still editing it and should post it at www.rightwingduck.com within the next hour. I'd post it here, but I felt that a serious post was not in keeping with the IMAO theme. Check in if you like.

(A guest post by Harvey of Bad Example)

Silly duck, when you have something nice to say about someone's post, you're supposed to give a DIRECT LINK to it.

Just for that, I'm not tossing you any more stale bread.

As my co-blogger was TRYING to say, Steve of Disaster and Love, Vengeance and Dust, (whose site appears to be working better today) found out that Frank and Sarah are actually out checking on the SMITE orbital laser, but there may be problems, as the Puppy Blender and his ninja-minions are hell-bent on sabotage.

As proof, there is photshopgraphic evidence at the other end of this DIRECT LINK.

(A Guest Post by Harvey of Bad Example)

When shopping for new tires for your car or truck, look carefully at the tread pattern. Always select the one that would look better on a hippy.

(A Guest Post by Harvey of Bad Example)

(The main body of this post originally appeared at Bad Example on June 7th, 2004)

Since Senator Horse-Face is really busy right now trying to explain away all the aid & comfort he gave to the Viet Cong with his Winter Soldier testimony, I figure this a good time to have some petty, childish fun at his expense.

Actually, it's ALWAYS a good time for that.

***********************

In recent months, John Kerry's freakishly inhuman appearance has been compared to many people and/or monsters. Now, of course this does NOT mean that his personality in any way resembles these... things. It's purely physical coincidence.

On the other hand, it made me think: What if - purely for the sake of argument - we took George Bush out of the race, and had Kerry running against his look alikes. How would I vote?

Kerry vs. Lurch: I'm taking Lurch on this one. I think I'd prefer his friendly, helpful "You rang?" attitude to Kerry's pissy "That son of a bitch pushed me!"

Kerry vs. Herman Munster: Gotta be Herman. I mean, when choosing between two conglomerations of re-animated corpse-parts, size matters. Why settle for the Metro when you can have the Explorer?

Kerry vs. Droopy Dog: Droopy in a landslide. At least he's not afraid to point weapons at bad guys when required.

Kerry vs. Goofy: I'm going with Goofy. Being the inoffensive and highly agreeable sort, it'll be easy for the Republican-controlled House and Senate to pile his desk high with all kinds of tax breaks for the obscenely rich, which he'll sign with a cheerful "Gorsh!"

Kerry vs. Gomer Pyle: This one kinda depends. Gomer's a Marine, which makes me lean his way, but he's also a partially retarded inbred hillbilly from Mayberry, and I can just see him accidentally declaring martial law through misapplication of the line item veto - "Gawwwwww-leee! I think I done just suspended me the Bill of Rights! Sha-ZAM!". But I suppose if Sgt. Carter were his running mate, he could keep him in line with a judiciously bellowed "PY-uhl!".

Kerry vs. Treebeard: "Wood is good", I always say. And even though Treebeard was a namby-pamby dithering pacifist who dicked around with the foresty version of the UN until thousands had been slaughtered, at least he eventually opened up a can of woody whup-ass on the piece of shit that killed his friends. Something I wouldn't trust Kerry to do.

Kerry vs. Harry Bentley (from "The Jeffersons" - lower left of picture): Let's see, Bentley worked for the UN and begged people to walk all over him. Guess it doesn't matter much.

Kerry vs. Keith Richards: I'm going with Richards. First, he plays a mean guitar, and second - since he's British - pissing off the French comes naturally to him. When he's not too busy being drunk or strung out on heroin, that is.

Kerry vs. the severed head from "Re-Animator": I'm leaning toward the severed head on this one. Sure he's completely evil, but - being a severed head - he pretty much has to be evil in one spot. Kerry can jump on Air Force one and spread his flip-floppiness around the entire world like some wafflified version of SARS.

Kerry vs. Jane Fonda: [hums theme to M*A*S*H while hunting for cyanide tablets]

WHUF! That last one was a little rough. I'm going to my happy place for a while and have some happy thoughts... Hmmm... what if that Secret Service agent had pushed Kerry into a tree instead of a snowbank. Mheh.

***********************

I've got something completely original slated for posting on Monday night. Meanwhile, I'll mostly be recycling pixels over here.

Just doing my part to conserve the endangered portions of the electromagnetic spectrum.

Not that anyone will notice, since nobody visits my site anyway.

[weeps piteously]

[looks up to check audience for signs of sympathy]

[hears crickets]

[weeps harder]

Hi Readers. Guestblogger rightwingduck here. I had to work today so I thought, "I might as well post something today." Then I thought, "hmmm. donuts." So today is a good day so far.

I was emailing with Steve over at DLVD and he posted something about what Frank and Sarah are REALLY doing. Hmmm. SMITE? Intellegince Czar? Sarah appaears to be getting some text messages out, but maybe she's in some secret underground location?

Maybe this whole budding romance thing is just a cover-up?

But cover-up for what?

I welcome all theories. Post in comments. If you have links to your site on your ideas, I'll post those as well.

Come to think about it, I could have sworn a saw a rocket car zip by here not too long ago.

(A GUEST POST FROM HARVEY OF BAD EXAMPLE)

IMAO has been near the top of the Ecosystem for as long as I can remember. Despite the best efforts of lesser bloggers, no one can seem to match his accomplishments.

Some people claim that he only got where he is today because he married a billionaire condiment heiress, but that's not true. There are, in fact, numerous reasons for Frank J's incomparable success, very few of which have anything to do with hamburger toppings. Here are some tips to help you become a more Frank-like and successful blogger.

Celebrate diversity - Notice how Frank's blog isn't just white, it's also black and red, thereby honoring our planet's human rainbow. Although there is no actual yellow in his template, he DOES link Michelle Malkin's blog.

Have a fearsome weapons arsenal at your disposal - Nothing says "successful blogger" like a vast array of killin' tools . Between katanas, guns, and space lasers, there's nothing Frank J. can't corpsify. Except monkeys. However, he has a team of bioweapons engineeers working on it even as we speak.

Unfortunately, their lab got blown away by hurricane Charley, so we must continue to fear the monkey menace.

Invent the internet - Don't believe any robo-Gore (or half-flapless duck) propaganda to the contrary, the internet was Frank's idea. Follow in his footsteps by creating your own globalized computer networking system. If this task seems too daunting, start small by hacking into John Kerry's campaign site and leaving little waffle pictures everywhere.

Neologize - Make up new words whenever possible. Frank J. coined the term "muckadoo" - a desperately needed pithy term to describe idiot liberals whose idea of intelligent commentary is to fling DNC talking points like caged monkeys tossing butt-nuggets. The world could really use a word for "beating a hippy hard enought to make him bleed tofu", so start coining.

Oops... I've just been informed that the word "fun" already exists. Try to come up with something else.

Have a kick-ass T-shirt - All of Frank J's T-shirts are 100% cotton and guaranteed bulletproof (not a guarantee). Plus, they're modelled by a hot babe with whom Frank is NOT currently having a romantic tryst, despite rampant speculation to the contrary, which I willl continue to deny in the absence of sufficient monetary persuasion. If you currently sell non-projectile-resistant burlap T-shirts modelled by Helen Thomas, strangle your marketing department.

Blog efficiently - While other bloggers waste time spell-checking their entries, Frank knows that when you have a big post, you should whip it out quickly.

Wait... did that sound dirty? Nevermind.

Anyway, the important thing is that Frank trusts his readers to be smart enough to know what he means when he types "htat" or "Rimsfeld" or "kwijybo", and you should, too. Pop that freakin' backspace key right off your keyboard, and go full speed ahead until you're finished. Despite what my wife keeps telling me, I know darn well that faster is ALWAYS better.

Besides you may even invent a word for "beating a hippy hard enough to make him bleed tofu" in the process.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go out and have some "fun".

[If you found this amusing and are looking for more, try my "Funny On Purpose" category]

Hi Gang,

Here are some links for you to explore. Some I'm sure you have discovered on your own.

Need to waste time? Here's one for the guys out there. My record is 311. Don't be too frustrated if at first you keep crashing into the buses.

Feel like praying? Visit Obnoxious Droppings. Our friend is in a lot of pain, and prayers and comments of support are just what he needs.

Special thanks to Steve at DLVD. He set up my site and chimes in at IMAO quite often. His site has some great ranting and hilarious pics.

One of my favorite sites is The Truth About York. I thought dude turned out some good observations and good rants. Oops. Turns out that 'he' is a 'she'. Why do we assume that somebody strong and aggressive is a guy? Sorry. But you gotta check her out from time to time

UPDATE. Speaking of Olympics - Here's a cute presentation. It runs about 3 minutes or so. (Hat Tip: F Mastro)

Yes, we miss Frank, too. Nobody is like Frank. Period.

For those of you who don't know, Frank is on vacation.

So STOP ASKING US WHO WE ARE! I am one of the guest bloggers, Rightwingduck of www.rightinwingduck.com. I invented the internet,yes it was me, Al Gore you thief, I have your number!. I am also the creator of the butterfly ballot - oh, never mind Al, I guess we're even.

Harvey, from Bad Example, is a great blogger. He invented punctuation. He collects a percentage everytime you use it, so I personally keep it to a minumum.

Don't believe me? Are you questioning my patriotism?

I served in Vietnam!

Well, not Vietnam the country. I served food at a Vietnamese restaurant. So you watch it, mister. I was in combat, well, not real combat, but I've worked the Dinner Rush, and that was WAR I tell you.

But not real war, and not real combat. So, what is the point of this post?

War Stories.

A lot of you have been sending in your Army/Navy/Air Force/Marines/Girl Scouts stories. I think they are totally cool and hope you continue to send them.

However, after having heard that John Kerry reenacted his war scenes for the camera he brought with him, collected medals for self inflicted scratches, spent Christmas in Cambodia, didn't spend Christmas in Cambodia, ran guns to Cambodia, joined the Cambodia Record & Tape Club and who knows what else - I've realized that many of these stories are totally and completely fake.

This upsets me for two reasons.

First reason: there are many brave men and women in combat situations who have fought bravely and selflessly. They risked everything and that medal they were awarded serves as a humble reminder of what they accomplished on the field of battle.

The second reason is that John Kerry is a doodoo head.

So, it's time to have some fun. You see, IMAO is a fun place to visit because not only is the Chief Blogger (Frank) funny as all get out - his readers are funny too. If you don't believe me, just skim yesterday's comments on alternate Olympic Sports.

So.... I am proud to present the

Make up a John Kerry War Story contest.

You can mention yourself as the hero or J F'n K. Also, for those of you who aren't into war, you may make up a story of valor.

Here are the guidelines and examples.

Must have ONE grain of truth. (I WENT TO THE 7-11 TO GET A SLURPEE) The truth must be in all CAPS. Not everybody knows how to make bold letters.
See, every great exaggeration has a kernel of truth in it. Senator Tom Harkin has always bragged about the missions he flew in Vietnam. Except he was stationed in Japan most of the time and flew into the Nam a handful of times. Never in combat.

See? It's easy.

Your war story must also mention at least 3 of the elements listed below. We will highlight best stories on Monday.

Weather: The LA Smog was so thik I could barely see my hands.

Enemy: (The Local Earth Day rally ended and they let out)

Event: (We were surrounded by hippies handing out leaflets. They were everywhere.)

Injury: Suffered by you or buddies (I could barely stand the smell, my nostrils were fried)

Weapons Used. (So I reached into my bag - grabbed a Big Bite Burrito and started wacking at them left and right)

Afterstory. (We barely made it. My buddy needed a nose transplant. Everytime I see somebody with a leaflet - I want to wack them)

Have fun!!

Winner gets free use of punctuation for a year from Harvey.

Enjoy your day. Remember to come back and check on the stories.

Hi, I'm Harvey of Bad Example (formerly of Bad Money). I'm not Frank, and I don't even play him on TV. However, I have been an IMAO reader for over 18 months, and I once beat Frank in his own permalink contest so I have some theories about what his readers like.

To test those theories, I'm starting off by cross-posting, in a slightly modified form, a recent entry from Bad Example. My next post will be original material.

***********************

KERRY'S POST-WAR ACCOMPLISHMENTS

No matter what question you ask John Kerry, he'll somehow manage to mention his Viet Nam service in the answer.

"Where will you be campaigning this week Senator Kerry?"

"I'll be in Florida where President Bush has just finished misleading a hurricane into devastating the countryside, much like I devastated villages with my Zippo when I served in Viet Nam."

Personally, I don't understand that. I served in the Navy for 6 years. You don't hear ME referring to THAT every time I open my mouth:

"Don't you think the sky is a lovely shade of blue today, Harvey?"

"Yes, but not as blue as the shirt I wore during my 6 years in the Navy."

Just let it go, man.

Besides, it's not like Kerry doesn't have lots of post-war accomplishments to brag about, like... um... er... well...

Screw it. I'll just make stuff up:

When the Krypton Criminals invaded Earth and Superman had given up all his powers, John Kerry personally stopped General Zod by using his laser vision.

My cat was stuck in a tree last week. John Kerry stood under it and told war stories until Fluffy passed out from boredom and tumbled to the ground.

When terrorists attacked the World Trade Center in 2001, Kerry said that people shouldn't do that. You'll notice that no one has attacked the WTC since then.

Kerry finally got that THING removed from his face, so he doesn't have to keep picking at it like he did during the Winter Soldier hearings.

He bravely married Teresa Heinz so that no one else had to get stuck with her billions.

He lets Secret Service Agents relieve pent up frustrations by pushing him down. Which is why the phrase is "going Postal" and not "going Secret Service".

Defying the predictions of all the political experts, Kerry found a way to out-dork Michael Dukakis's tank picture.

He stopped the Borg from assimilating Earth by inventing the warp drive.

He ended the argument over whether it's possible for a 60 year old man to look sexy in spandex by proving it's not.

He made Michael Moore stop peeing on the rug by whacking him with a rolled up newspaper.

He rescued important-looking hair from the fashion taboo list.

He made man-on-man public displays of affection socially acceptable outside of San Francisco.

He found Jimmy Buffet's lost shaker of salt.

He gave Bluto the ass-whuppin' he so richly deserved. Yay spinach!

He turned down that job as Viagra spokesman, thus saving the nation from the incaluculable psychic anguish that the mental picture would've caused.

My apologies for the psychic anguish caused by that last mental picture.

He restored America's pride by winning the coveted "Waffle King" title back from the hated Belgians.

He walked across America barefoot with a metal pot on his head, planting apple seeds wherever he went.

He was brilliant as Captain Jack Sparrow in "Pirates of the Caribbean".

Hmmm... I might have to re-Google those last two.

In the last three years, he once went a whole day without saying the words "Viet Nam". Which is more than you can say for the major media outlets.

And most important of all, he's accepted the Democratic party's nomination as "loser of the 2004 election" so that Hillary is free to get her ass kicked in 2008.

***********************

So, on the Frankly Amusing scale (10 being "Frank J." and 1 being "Al Franken") where does that sit?

Oh, and if you enjoyed that, I've got an entire category of Precision Guided Humor posts which may or may not be of a similar caliber.

IMAO Readers, RightWingDuck here. Okay, so the media is still focused on George Bush's Vietnam Record and are still refusing to discuss John Kerry beyond his press releases and glossies. Where is the research on John Edwards?

I have tried everything (except actual research) but cannot find reference to any military service by John Edwards. So I did a John Kerry War Story Embellishment - I’ve made some up.

See, I don't see John Edwards as a soldier, and definitely not as a Marine. Air force? Nope. Navy, hey, I'm ex-Army but I have SOME respect for the Navy guys. Nope he didn't quite fit into any of the standard branches of service..

So without further ado, I give you..

The Adventures of John Edwards in the US Hair Corps!

Hair Corps Theme Song (Sung to the tune of the Air Force Song)

Off we go, making them blonde and blonder
Sitting them high, into the chair
Hear the roar of the blow dryers thunder
At'em boys, let’s have some fun!
Here we comb, and brush and style in wonder
Those split ends, hitting the floor
We live with flames, and work with flames
Nothing can stop the US Hair Corps!

We join our hero John Edwards at a small medical outpost in Vietnam. The sun is starting to set on this dreary sight, as all around us we see brave wounded young men. Bleeding. Moaning. Many in their last moments of life. A young nurse holds a dying soldier’s hand. “Nurse, Nurse, I’m dying. Will you..”

In walks John Kerry.

“NUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURse. I have a scratch on my arm. Owie! Can I get a Band-Aid and a Purple Heart please?

The nurse gets up to attend to Mr. Kerry. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, We can give you the Band-Aid, but the purple heart has to be awarded.”

“Fine. Can you give me a bandaid and award me a purple heart?”

From the tent corner we hear: “Nurse. I’m dying. Can you?” gag. Gag.

“I’m sorry I need to take care of this soldier.”

“Why? He’s gonna die anyway. Listen, this scratch really hurts, embarrassing too. It’s no fun when you shoot yourself, no way, ma’am. Damn kids in loincloths. I’ll get them, and their little village pets, too.”

A young man taps Kerry on the shoulder. “Excuse me. While you’re waiting for your Band-Aid maybe I could touch up your hair. You look a frightful mess and I think you have split ends.”

Kerry examines this tall drink of champagne. He sees a skinny kid with long light brown hair - tied in pigtails.

“Who are you? And what in the name of JFK’s yacht are you doing here?”

The young man snaps of a sharp salute. “John Edwards. Stylist First Class. US Hair Corps.”

“Air Force?”

“Goodness no. The have entry requirements. US Hair Corp. We’re a top notch organization dedicated to solving hair issues.” He reaches into a mauve colored rucksack and pulls something out. “Here’s a brochure and a free shampoo sample.”

“Is that a rucksack?”

“Yes, standard Hair Corps Issue.”

“Hmm. Never seen one in Purple.”

“Really, well, it’s not purple Mr. Longface – it’s mauve.”

“Well, Hmmm. Nice brochure. Maybe I’ll take a cream rinse.”

Shreeks. “Wonderful.”

Our nurse comes back. “Well, I hope you’re happy! Poor kid died. Kept trying to share some kind of secret, not that I could hear because of you, Mr. Yakity-Yak. Now what’s your problem – oh goodness, what happened to your chin?”

John Kerry is miffed, “Nothing. I just have a naturally long chin.”

“Well, I can help with that, too! All we need to do is create some balance.” Edwards goes to work on Mr. Kerry’s hair. Five minutes later..

“See? By adding 5 inches to the height of your hair, we create the illusion of balance. Sometimes, illusion is more important than reality, I say.”

“Really? What are you some kind of Hollywood director?”

“Oh no. I’m just an average kid who’s trying to find himself. So I joined the Hair Corps to get some direction – and to learn how to cut hair.”

“Thanks kid, my hair looks great. I’ll be doing some filming later today -mostly just reenacting all of my heroics. Hey, would you consider running around in a loin cloth? I need to re-shoot some footage.”

Edwards blushes. “Well, I guess I’d consider it - if it’s for a good cause and all.”

“Thanks kid. If I’m ever running for President, I’ll make you my second in command.”

John Edwards beams with pride. A heavenly light shines on John as he smiles.

He’s John. John Edwards. Stylist First class. Hair Corps. Dippity-Do and Dye.

We fade out as we hear the theme from the Hair Corps Academy.

What adventures will our Stylist First Class have? Will wearing a loincloth lead to bigger and better things? Who else will this amazing young man meet in the steamy jungles of Vietnam? Is there a difference between Mauve and Purple?

Stay tuned for the further adventures of John Edwards and the US Hair Corps!

IMAO Readers, parts 2, 3, & 4 are posted at the new RightWingDuck blog site.