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

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.

Hi Gang,

RightWingDuck here filling in as one of your Guestbloggers. I'd like to talk to you about an event that I just can't seem to get off my mind, or the TV for that matter. THE OLYMPICS.

Are the Olympics cool? Are they a waste of time?

The Olympics started not too long ago, and what have we heard from the Blogosphere? Whine, whine, whine. We whine like a Frenchman wanting more Iraqi Oil. We whine like the a Democrat in Florida.

We whine about the Olympics being boring. We complain about unfair judging. We groan at the idea of steroids and their impact on sports. We pretend to be shocked that some Olympians are posing nude before they ever even compete.

Listen. I wave the flag for the good ol' US of A everyday, but more so at the Olympics.

Here's my gripe. I believe we're taking this Olympic thing in the wrong direction!

Have you ever watched those cool car overhaul shows? Like Dude, Pimp My Ride or Overhaulin'? They don't try to just change the paint a little or tweak it here or there. They go all out! They redo, repaint, and replace virtually everything!

And that ladies and Gentlemen is exactly what the Olympics need.

You see, we need MORE STEROIDS. We need more ACTION. We need MORE nude Olympians!

I want a juiced up sprinter. I want to see them popping pills just before the race and watch the foam. I want them so juiced up you think they're about to outrun a locomotive! Whooooosh.

I want them to measure the 100 yard dash with that measuring thingy from the Dragster Races. I want to see these people go so fast that parachutes come out to slow them down. I want them so fast that instead of those stupid flower tattoos these people have racing stripes and chrome on their running shoes.

Heck, we could combine the sprint and the archery events into one. It would give a challenge to the archerers by having moving targets - and let's face it - nothing motivates a sprinter more than knowing somebody is targeting their butts.

"Here they come, it looks like the Canadian is in front, yes, there he goes BAM whoa - nice shot by the Bulgarian. And it's the American by a nose!"

Yes- ACTION!

I really don't care if most of the swim teams are taking performance enhancers. You want to enhance performance, make the events more interesting. Speaking of swimming, how about making these events more for the masses?

How about having Budweiser sponsor a 'Drink and Dive' event? The swimmers get loaded then they have to walk across the diving board as best they can and then do their dive. I want to have the divers get so loaded they miss the swimming pool and land on the papparazzi table. I want to see sombody do a cannon ball. I want to see some diver get so stinkin' drunk he pulls down his trunks and pees off the high diving board. How many points would he get for THAT? Not only would it be funny, it would have something for the ladies as well.

Can I get a YEAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

We need to crank this baby up and have fun with it.

Ask yourself, do you want to see a weightlifter train for years and years just so he can beat his personal best record from 4 years ago by 10 pounds? Of course not. I want these athletes cranked to full power and tweaked to maximum capacity. I want them so pumped full of steroids, we get to see what the human body is REALLY capable of doing? Don't just tweak the car - load it up and press the pedal to the metal.

I want a weightlifter that has so much pharmacia in him that not only does he have breasts, but he has THREE of them! I want a guy who can move so much weight he has a sponsorship from Caterpillar! Guys who are so amped that if their arms broke they would just keep on lifting because they didn't even FEEL it.

Can I get a WOOHOO!?

And while we're at it? Why not have pharmaceutical sponsors? That's an official sponsor I'd like to see. Sure "Offical Film of the Olympics" is nice and "Official Airlines of the Olympics" is cool.

How about, "Flexoor, Official Drug of the US Weightlifting Team - less Testicular Shrinkage - more Muscle!"

Or better yet, something along the Mastercard commercial: "Flight to the Olympics - $500. Cost to attend the 100 yard dash event $35. Cost to run like a bat out of hell - $20 per vial".

See, this competition could be fun? It's just that some of the events lack Zip. How about a Fear Factor type of Olympic event where people have to eat gross bugs? Sure, we'd have to disqualify anyone from a country where bugs are standard fare on a menu, but that would still be cool.

"Here we see the Australian Athlete about to eat a Tarantula. Oops, missed a leg - oh, he's gonna lose points for puking!"

And what's with the complaining about the athletes posing nude? So what? You don't like it, don't buy the magazine! I want these athletes to pose nude. I want to pose the Women's Chinese swim team next to the Men's Weightlifting squad and see who has bigger private parts!

Folks, the problem is that the Olympics are really a TV sport. Sure, it's nice to attend an Olympic event and collect pins and all of that other 0ld-lady crap: but when all is said and done, the Olympics are viewed from home.

TV has changed - but the Olympics really haven't. We need to form a new Olympic Committee - one where we look at what is fun - what works - and what has a chance to be seen and attended.

See, this thing could be fun. I should pick up the ball and run with it. First, I need an official sponsor.

I can't wait for 2008.

Rightwingduck has a blog at www.rightwingduck.com. He is the writer of this post and not much else.

So chime in! What event would you "enhance" and how would you do it?

I wasn't planning on posting anymore until I got back from the trip, but this is hilarious.

I didn't have any time to come up with a post, but I did take a picture of my hat.

I don't have a cowboy hat yet, but I have a nice Austrailian hat to wear during to the hike to keep the sun out of my eyes.

Now that I talked about my hat, I'll turn the blog over to RightWingDuck of RightWingDuck and Harvey of Bad Example. If they do bad, tell me so I can have them destroyed.

Be honorable, ronin.

Beverage selections for the hike are fruit punch or lemon-lime gatorade (powdered).

That is all.

Wolf's Dawn writes:
Sorry I took so long to submit but I felt this pressure to come up with a clever math/science question so you could impress with your out-of-this-world knowledge. And I'm not being snarky! However, I just found myself getting a headache from trying to come up with something brilliant so I decided to stick to the low-brow comedy I know best.

I am from the eastern part of the Mid Atlantic region. Does that make me middle eastern?

You are given a chance to ask the fountain of knowledge - me - any questions, and this is what you come up with? Your question is stupid, and thus you have reflected poorly on all middle easterners who are already having a PR problem with their terrorism and murderousness and what not. I hope you die in a jihad... but don't get martyrdom.

Heh heh, martyr-dumb. They should use that as a slogan to stop people from being terrorists. Why don't try that out since you're in the Middle East, Wolf Dawn?

I forgot to write down who wrote this, but here it is:
If you could fill a 5 gallon water jug with dimes or quarters, which would you choose to get the most money?

Quarters, duh, because quarters are worth more and now have wacky pictures on the back (collect them all!). Also, you can't use dimes in arcade machines. Dimes are worthless. If I had a jug of dimes, I'd just chuck handfuls of them at people. And people would be like, "Stop that!" And I'd be like, "No!" And they'd be like, "Ahh, you got me in the eye!" And I'd be like, "Hooray!" And they'd be like, "Now you stop or... erk... ack!" And I'd be like, "Ha ha! I got them right down your throat! Now you die! Ha ha!"

On second thought, I'll take the jug of dimes.

RP from Australia writes:
One of my university professors says that we should all go see Fahrenheit 9/11. I am scared; is it possible to catch obesity or communism from watching too many Michael Moore movies?

Yes, studies show that people coming out of Fahrenheit 9/11 tend to be fatter and more inclined to stupidity than when they entered. Instead, see Alien vs. Predator. That one will only make you dumber.

Damn, another one where I forgot to write who asked the questions:
I have 2 questions to Ask Frank:
A. Which is more slippery, anti-gravity or Teflon™?
2. Which is harder to find, a brave Phrenchman or a pound of anti-matter?
Enquiring minds want to know.

A. Teflon™ is slippy; anti-gravity pushes you away and has nothing to do with friction. So you don't want it. If you have anti-gravity, please give it to me.

2. There's probably at least a pound of anti-matter that could be found at an anomaly at the center of our galaxy. As for a brave Frenchman, none is known to exist anywhere in the space-time continuum.

* * * *

Frank Answers™ is now invitation only, so don't send me your stupid questions. I hate you.

American Shogun Harry S Truman was to have said:

Carry the battle to them. Don't let them bring it to you. Put them on the defensive. And don't ever apologize for anything.

Listen to Truman, 'cause he'll bomb yer ass.

John Kerry seemed to have gotten confused and thought he was Bob Kerrey when he responded to Bush attacks on his record by saying he was Vice Chairman of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence. Then I found this statement where Kerry tried to respond once again, but now he seems even more confused:

"The Republicans have come at me with countless attacks, and will not take them standing still. This is not just about myself, but about the American people. It reminds me of the time I performed "The Vault," injuring myself and ruining my chance for an individual gold medal while securing the gold for the team. We the American people are all a team, and I will sacrifice myself for you.

"My opponents slur me as being rich and out of touch, but I can sympathize with those of you who are downcast. My life has not always been easy for me. I once had a dead-end job in Cleveland, constantly being mocked by an obese woman with too much makeup. But I worked hard, eventually having a hit single every year of the 90's. That was not an easy thing to do, and that is the kind of work and dedication I will have for you as president.

"Yes, there are those who have tried to discredit me, but listen to the American Kennel Club which says I'm affectionate, absolutely loyal to my family, friendly, and intelligent. I am a man of the people, having for years led my fellow baseball fans in "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" in the seventh inning stretch. And, ask anyone, and they will tell you they enjoy my Dingle peninsula!

"That's why the NRA has gotten laws passed in most states to keep me concealed, but I will not stay hidden! Others try to distract you with silly issues such as my hair, much like the overdone controversy when I cut my curly hair short… but these are not the issues the American people care about. They want someone with honor, someone like me who has helped samurai from disgracing their families. A messy job, yes, but that is my dedication. It is true I have made mistakes in the past, just as anyone has, and, admittedly, I was overzealous when I burnt down my prom using my telekinetic powers, but these are mistakes I have learned from. In the end, my life experiences have given me courage, and it is seared - seared - in my memory when I stood up to Grand Moff Tarkin and said, "The more you tighten your grip, the more star systems will slip through your fingers." And just as I stood up to him, I will stand up for you against any enemy who threatens us.

"And, one last thing: I served in Vietnam!"

Krazy Kerry Konfusion Fun: See if you can name each "Kerry" John Kerry had confused himself with. I'll post the answers later.

Forgot to link to this. I started the Alliance up, but it certainly went on well without me.

"Give a man a fish, and you'll feed him for a day. Teach a man to make fun of the puppy blender, and he'll be entertaining for life."

Remember: Your name is John Kerry, not Bob Kerrey. Though the last names sound the same, they are spelled differently and the first names are completely different. Okay? See the difference?

And be careful where you inject the Botox.

Here are more military stories. I have a decent backlog of stories, but I'm always accpeting more. If you'd like to give your own explanation of why you joined the military or have a military story, please e-mail me with the subject "Military". Thanks.

* * * *

AndyJ writes about his Vietnam experience (he served in Vietnam? Maybe he should run for president):

I did the usual drinking and partying type of college education thing and did the usual flunking out. But I kept getting my 2S deferment. After a year of working in the steel mill, I called the draft board to ask why I was still getting my deferment. All I heard on the phone was "Get his name" Well, that afternoon, I went to the Navy recruiter to ask if I signed up right then, and got my draft notice tomorrow, who would have possession over my body. The Navy guy said that the Navy would. So I signed up hoping to stay out of Vietnam (this was 1966). The next day my draft notice arrived in the mail. Well, after boot camp and gunnery school, I received my orders to a certain ship. I inquired where the ship was home ported, and yes, it was Vietnam, river patrol work. Spent 2 years there because my brother was in the Army at that time and they had a rule that 2 brothers wouldn't be sent into a combat zone at the same time, so I stayed in Nam until he only had a couple of months left on his enlistment and couldn't be sent there.

Samuel writes about starting a career in the Navy:

I was enjoying a full ride to community college, which you can get if you score high enough on the ACT. I changed majors more often than I changed T shirts, and realized that when my ride was up, I was probably going to join the military. A Navy recruiter called me, and I decided to hear what he had to say.

I kicked some butt on the ASVAB, and was able to get into the nuclear engineering program (reactors, not bombs). After about 2 years of schooling, I went to my first submarine, a Trident SSBN, where I spent 5 years and did nine 70 day patrols.

I'm still in the Navy, and am working for a recruiting command's advanced programs department, ensuring a supply of bright minds to keep our Navy manned into the future. I plan to make a career of the Navy.

John writes about the Air Force (I wish I had a guidance counselor like his):

Hi Frank, I've been lurking on your website for a while, keep up the good work! Here is my 'how I joined the military' story plus a funny story from my first assignment (well, funny to me, but it's definitely a different kind of humor in the part of the military I'm in right now).

In high school it was pretty much assumed I was going to a college of some flavor. I had straight As, good SATs, played lots of sports, had my Eagle Scout badge, blah, blah, blah. Granted, I went to a public high school in the Appalachian mountains of North Carolina, so my competition was a little weak in the book-learnin' department, if you get my drift (think 'Welcome Back Kotter' meets 'Deliverance'). But I did pretty well, all things considered. So at the end of my junior year, I thinking about trying for Duke, UNC-Chapel Hill, Georgia Tech, those kind of places. One day, though, the new assistant guidance counselor asked me to drop by his office.

As it turned out, Ron was an old high-school buddy of my mom's. It also turned out that he had volunteered for Vietnam as an enlisted door gunner on Air Force rescue helicopters. After a couple of tours in Vietnam, he got a bachelor's degree while still in the Air Force, got his officer's commission, then became a Combt Controller (Air Force version of Special Forces) and retired as a captain in the mid-80s after almost breaking his back parachuting into some trees in Oregon on an exercise. Pretty much a bad-ass any way you cut it. So here's this muscled, retired military officer calmly checking me out from behind his desk. On the wall are pictures of him jumping out of military aircraft and posing with other John Wayne-looking military guys carrying tons of guns. Here's how my conversation with him went:

Ron: "So, I see you have good grades and you play football, wrestle and run track. You hunt much?"

Me: "Yes sir, Usually just small game and birds, deer huntin' eats up too much time."

Ron: "What are your plans after high school"

Me: "Uhh, I figured on going to Duke or Georgia Tech and getting an engineering degr. . . (my voice trailed off as Ron started shaking his head slowly).

Ron: "You interested in the military?"

Me: "Of course!" (back then in the rural mountain towns, if you were a teenage guy and didn't at least claim to be interested in joining the military, you might as well wear a dress and carry a sign saying "I'M A BIG HOMO")

Ron: "A guy like you would be bored stupid at some civilian school. You want to do men's work (tosses me an admissions program from the Air Force Academy). Go to the Academy, then go to pilot training and fly something that shoots bullets or drops bombs. Don't be a pussy and waste your time listening to some hippie with a PhD."

Me, pondering a future flying cool aircraft versus sitting in a lab or an office cubicle: "Sounds good to me. Is the Academy hard?"

Ron: "Of course, wouldn't be worth doing if it was easy. Tell Anita (my mom) I said hi."

And that was that. I went to the Air Force Academy (the airliner that flew me to Colorado was the first time I'd ever been in an airplane), graduated in 1992, went to flight school and have spent the last 12 years flying special operations helicopters (I fly MH-53M Pave Lows, if you're into the whole category thing). I've worked with some of the smartest, toughest, and funniest people on the planet and had a blast doing it. So listen to your guidance counselor (but only if he's a combat vet with forearms the size of small hams).

Oh yeah, the funny story. When I first started flying special operations helicopters, my first assignment as a co-pilot was to Osan Air Base in South Korea. I was warned that the enlisted guys like to try and rattle the new pilots to see if they have the right stuff, so I should act calm and collected now matter what. So I'm in Korea my first weekend, standing in the hootch bar behind the squadron drinking a cold one. All of the sudden, the sergeant behind the bar looks up and starts grinning at something behind me. Before I could turn around, a big, hairy door gunner named Diekman (he was so hairy, his nickname was "Kee-rok", as in the old SNL skit about the Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer) walked up next to me buck naked and started humping my leg. "What's up, sir?", Kee-rok asked while giving me my Naked Gunner Hug (a tradition that gunner's had been doing to new pilots since! Vietnam, I later learned). Showing as much outward calm as I could muster (inside, I was gibbering like a screech monkey and fighting the urge to flee out the door), I took a sip from my beer and replied "Not much, just trying to keep my hands away from your hairy nuts, I guess". He laughed (along with all the other pilots, flight engineers and gunners in the bar) and walked off to put his pants back on, apparently satisfied that I wasn't easy to rattle. Later, I took a long shower and burned my clothes a la Ace Ventura. Yep, those were the days.

The meat selection for the sandwiches on the hike is honey ham.

That is all.

UPDATE: The Grand Canyon is on fire! SarahK is going to lead me to my death!

These words are from A Book of Five Rings (Go Rin No Sho) written by the great samurai warrior Miyamoto Musashi:

Holding the Long Sword

Grip the long sword with a rather floating feeling in your thumb and forefinger, with the middle finger neither tight nor slack, and with the last two fingers tight. It is bad to have play in your hands.

When you take up a sword, you must feel intent on cutting the enemy. As you cut an enemy you must not change your grip, and your hands must not "cower". When you dash the enemy's sword aside, or ward it off, or force it down, you must slightly change the feeling in your thumb and forefinger. Above all, you must be intent on cutting the enemy in the way you grip the sword.

The grip for combat and for sword-testing is the same. There is no such thing as a "man-cutting grip".

Generally, I dislike fixedness in both long swords and hands. Fixedness means a dead hand. Pliability is a living hand. You must bear this in mind.

 We are the United States of America. Our military might is unmatched by anyone. Our economy dwarfs that of any other country. The scientific advancements we create put all other nations to shame. So, if we have some guy in our country who can throw a javelin farther than some guy from some other country, that means what to us?

 I missed it, but apparently the Olympics started over the weekend. It happens every four years, just like presidential elections, but it’s completely inconsequential. It brings nations together in one place to find which nation could conjure up some guy or gal who is best at some random test of physical acumen. Well that gets a "whoopdie" a "freak'n" and a "doo."

 Now, apparently the shiny little medals handed out as prizes mean something to pissant countries. It is well known that Saddam's son Uday would torture athletes to get results (before we done shot up Uday good). Also, Communist countries are always pushing their athletes as if nothing is more important than them proving they have some woman who can splash less in a dive than anyone else. Why? Because they suck. This is all they have. They're poor, stupid, and we could topple them before you could cook an egg, but at least they might be able to have someone who can best our people on the uneven bar.

 Remember back in 2002 when America actually did well in the World Cup? That was mean. America had a long history of not caring about soccer and leaving that dainty sport to all the foreigners. But then we had to go and beat Mexico. As bad as things got in Mexico, they could still always say they could kick a ball around better than us. And we stole that from them. Now they have nothing.

 So let's stop our involvement in these world games. We have a war on terror to fight and a world to keep from blowing up; leave the shot put to those who have nothing better to do than care about it. In 2008, instead of boycotting the Olympics because it's being hosted by g'damn Commies, let's boycott it because it's pointless. Or, better yet, since the whole draw is some country may best America, let’s send fat, drunken people to completely throw the games. Then all the other countries can laugh at how dumb and lazy we Americans are as we sit home in peace counting our money and plotting the demise of our enemies.

Frank J. is a syndicated columnist whose columns appear worldwide on IMAO.us and is the author of such novels as "A Brave New Shiznit" and "Harry Potter vs. the Starship Troopers."

I just want it to be known that I don't hate all teenagers; teenagers who read IMAO are the... uh... shiznit (that's a good thing, right?).

Also, I think some people are making too big a deal out of the IMAO Employee Team-Building Trip 2004. This is just to increase synergy for the IMAO paradigm and increase value for IMAO share-holders (i.e., me). Anyway, I don't have the money right now to buy a decent size rock.

Hey everybody. Anyway, I have this huge announcement. You are going to be totally blown away!

But first, a message from our sponsors. Remember, without advertisements, you can't have huge announcements such as this one you will soon have. Thus, make sure to check out any IMAO advertiser to say thanks for supporting this site, its humor, and its announcements.

First, there is Network Solutions, who both build and host websites. Remember only losers use blogspot.

Then there is Poolitics where you can bet on politics. Politics and gambling - two vices together at last.

Also, if you're in Michigan and Ohio and don't have a CCW, I have the link for you. Be a good citizen and get your CCW.

Finally, regular advertisers Right Wing Stuff and The Casual Conservative are back. Make sure to keep checking them out for new stuff.

Also, I'd just like to thank Doug the T-Shirt guy from ThoseShirts.com. The Chomps t-shirt is almost done, BTW.

Well, I'll talk to you guys later. Be honorable, ronin.

Oh yeah! The announcement!

SarahK's run in with the blight of society - teenagers - makes me so upset I don't know if I'll be able to announce.

Kidding. I'll announce soon... and announce like announcing has never been announced before!

Nominate me for best blog at the Washington Post, and maybe I'll announce an hour earlier than I was planning.

Here finally are the winners to the Kerry bunny suit caption contest.

First, the runners up who each can send me one question for Frank Answers™:

"Ta-Ray-Sah, do you remember where I pahked my spaceship?"
From Reed the Viking

"I looked dumb before I looked stupid."
From spacemonkey

"Ground control to major Dork."
Which Exile stole from a Freeper

"T minus ten seconds to waffle."
From blackxdice

"By the way, the song "Obsession" is by Animotion. And no, I don't want to sleep with you."
From Ian McGibboney

And the winning caption, the writer of which can send me two questions, is:

"...and that is why I should be reelected as president." Bush paused for a moment. "Stop staring at me like that. I said stop staring at me like that! Rarr!" He then charged the cardboard cutout of John Kerry and smashed it to pieces with a baseball bat.

"You know, in the real debate, you won't have a baseball bat," Cheney told him.

"Just fists then?"

"Kerry specified there be no physical contact."

"Not even checking? Man, I'm going to be at a disadvantage. At least it's nice that my brother Jeb is letting me stay at his place while I'm visiting... just watch out for his daughter. She'll steal your wallet and use the money to buy crack."

Jeb Bush walked into the room. "Time to give your speech."

"Okay, bro." Bush walked out to greet the press waiting outside. "Hello, peoples of Florida. I know you just got hit by a hurricane and it sucks and stuff, but things will be all right. Let it be known that we'll get your power back on and... oh, if you don't have power, you're probably not hearing this. If you have power, please find those who don't and tell them that the president is here and everything is going to be fine.

"Oh, and one more thing. This was absolutely not my fault, so I don't want you liberal crazies blaming it on me."

"But Ted Kennedy has said this hurricane wouldn't have happened if you weren't so focused on Iraq,” said a reporter.

"That's crazy. Hurricanes happened before we invaded Iraq, didn't they?" Bush looked to Jeb for confirmation who nodded his head. "Yeah, so Kennedy is a bloated idiot. I don't control hurricanes... though maybe Halliburton does." Bush looked to Cheney who made a shushing motion. "Uh... forget that. Anyway, Governor Schwarzenegger is here to offer some words of support."

Arnold stepped up to the podium. "What? You little weaklings cannot take a bit wind and rain? You are little girlie men! You are puny! I will crush you! I am Ah-nuld!"

"Thank you for your words of support," Bush said as he took back the podium, "Now, I don't have anymore time to talk - lots of presidential stuff to do. You all go away now. Shoo!" Bush fired a gun into the air and the press scattered.

"What do you have to do?" Jeb asked.

"I'm thinking of going to Disney World," Bush answered.

"Mickey is a puny girlie mouse!" Arnold shouted, "I crush him! I am Ah-nuld!"

"Maybe we should go back to D.C.," Cheney said, "I don't know if it was a good idea leaving Rumsfeld in charge."

* * * *

"What's this country? I never heard of it!" Rumsfeld yelled as he stared at the map of the world with contempt, "Let's bomb it to be on the safe side."

Condi folded up a classified document into a paper airplane and threw it across the room. "Whatever."

* * * *

"Come on, Cheney," Bush beckoned, "I barely ever get to see my brother anymore. So what have you been up to, Jeb?"

"Well, I've been governor of Florida."

"Wow! Really? Have I told you about how this weird Frenchman is trying to steal my job?"

"Yeah, I've heard about that."

Bush glanced around him in a paranoid fashion. "I bet he's plotting against me as we speak."

* * * *

"I can't believe Bush is getting more publicity as a leader by flying to Florida," John Kerry fumed, "I've been in hurricanes before, but I don't get any credit. I was on the Florida Keys during hurricane Andrew. The event was seared - seared - into my memory."

"Actually, sir," Kerry's butler interrupted, "You were in Cape Cod during hurricane Andrew."

"Yes, I remember Cape Cod distinctly. It's seared - seared - into my memory."

"We need a plan to defeat Bush. Yessss," Terry McAuliffe hissed.

"I have one in effect," Kerry said, "the movie The Manchurian Candidate gave me an idea. Now we can destroy the Bush White House from the inside. And, if this plan doesn't work, I'll just find a richer wife. Muh ha ha ha!"

* * * *

"So was 'what's its name' bombed?" Rumsfeld asked.

"I dunno," Condi said as she made another paper airplane. It sailed across the room until Chomps jumped up and snatched it. He then savagely tore it to pieces.

Scott McClellan then walked into the room. "Where have you been?" Rumsfeld demanded.

"I have been engaged in normal conservative Republican activities," Scott answered in a monotone voice.

"Well go give your press conference to those annoying reporters," Rumsfeld commanded.

"That I will do. And I will say nothing surprising during the aforementioned press conference." Scott then left the room.

"Did something seem different about him?" Condi asked.

"I don't like any conversations that don't involve war," Rumsfeld answered curtly.

Chomps stared in the direction of Scott. Something was making him angry, but he couldn't tell what.

* * * *

"Aww! You and Arnold trashed my place!" Jeb griped.

"You place is puny! I crush it!" Arnold answered.

"Quiet, guys," Bush said, "Scott is about to give the daily press briefing. I need to watch this so I'm a responsible president and Cheney will give me a cookie."

"I have a few announcements to make," Scott told the press, "The Iraq war was a mistake and done only for oil. Bush actually funded Osama bin Laden himself so he could have excuses for war."

Bush pulled out his Halliburton approved talking points. "Hey! Those aren't the talking points!"

"Also, Bush is firing Colin Powell and Condoleezza Rice because he hates black people."

"That's only half true!" Bush shouted at the screen, "Scott's gone crazy. Someone has to stop him!"

* * * *

"So who has been setting Bush's foreign policy?" a reporter asked.

"A Zionist conspiracy, just as all the crazy Muslims suspected," Scott answered.

"Why are you telling us this now?"

"Because Bush knows that he has no chance against John Kerry, who, by the way, served in Vietnam, while Bush himself was AWOL from his National Guard service, spending time making ties with Saudi oil interests that dictate his actions now."

"It all comes together!" exclaimed a reporter, "But what is that dog that is charging you?"

Chomps jumped the podium and tore it to pieces. He then barked savagely at the press until they fled. Finally, he grabbed Scott by the leg and started shaking him.

When Chomps dropped him, Scott shook his mind out of the trance. "What was I saying? The Kerry campaign must have brainwashed me! Thanks for snapping me out of it, Chomps. I know you’re just a dog, but..."

Chomps grabbed Scott by the leg again and shook him some more.

"AHHH!"

* * * *

The phone rang. "Condi, get that," Rumsfeld called out.

"You're the secretary."

Rumsfeld growled and then picked up the phone. "What do you want?"

"It's Dubya. Have you been watching T.V.?"

"T.V. is a fad! I never traded my radio in for one of those."

"Whatever. I need to bomb some of Kerry's houses in retaliation."

"Which ones?"

"I dunno... pick two."

* * * *

"What's that sound, Jeeves?" Kerry asked.

"Sounds like laser guided bombs, sir."

The house then blew up around them. Kerry stood up and shook his fist at the fighter jets. "Do you know who I am? I served in Vietnam!" He then noticed Teresa Heinz coming up the driveway. "Jeeves, you take the blame for this."

Kerry's butler sighed. "Certainly, sir."

* * * *

"So the Kerry campaign kidnapped me and brainwashed me, thus making me say all those things in that last press conference - none of which were true. The reason there is a cast on my leg is because Rumsfeld's dog shook me by it to break me out of the trance. He then shook me for two more hours straight because he is a mean, psychotic dog. Finally, Bush blew up two of Kerry's houses in retaliation. All standard stuff. So, are there any questions?"

"I have one about Abu Ghraib."

Scott shook his head. "Can't you guys finally give that up!?"

Gather round and hear the tale of my harrowing battle with the hurricane. First there was rain. Then there was more rain. And a little thunder. And the power flashed off twice, making me lose my progress in the videogame I was playing. Then I had a beer.

And thus ended the siege of the hurricane. Hope everyone else is doing well.

I did not survive hurricane Charley. This is my last post before my spirit departs for the land of wind and shadows.

Well, I'm home now. It's not raining, there's no wind, but the clouds are really foreboding.

Oh yeah... the announcement. Know what? It's a really big announcement, and I'm tired and there'a hurricane coming. I'll do it Monday (and if I don't, you have permission to lynch me).

And I haven't forgotten about the Kerry caption contest; I'm just lazy.

Anyway, check out Spoons's idea for a Broadway musical on John Kerry's life.

Later, y'all (if I survive the hurricane).

Sensei Winston Churchill was to have said:

Never, never, never believe any war will be smooth and easy, or that anyone who embarks on the strange voyage can measure the tides and hurricanes he will encounter. The statesman who yields to war fever must realize that once the signal is given, he is no longer the master of policy but the slave of unforeseeable and uncontrollable events.

Just kidding. All it looks like here is overcast.

Man, I wanted to go home early.

UPDATE: Just got an e-mail saying to go home. Time for video games!

Seems like this whole McGreevey thing should be funny, but my initial reaction and still current reaction is to feel sorry for his wife and children (and to a much, much lesser extent, McGreevey himself).

I guess I'll just keep making jokes about Kerry. Did I tell you about the time I once met him in person and then beat him in a kung fu fight? The incident is seared - seared - into my memory...

As I have been informed by Harvey, today marks one year since declaring war on Glenn Reynolds. Since I've been so busy, I haven't been too involved with the Alliance, but it seems to have been pretty active without me.

Anyway, I declared victory after Reynolds linked to me on my second blogiversary (it was his blatant not linking to me on my first blogiversary that led to this bloodshed), but I think there are some things that still need to be said. Thus, I've produced a documentary on DVD about Glenn Reynolds entitled Glenn Reynolds - Behind the Blog. Learn the true secrets behind Instapundit.com and hear confessions straight from Reynolds himself:

"Before 9/11, I just blogged about my daily life such as what I had for breakfast, how flammable different forest creatures are, and my vast Transformer action figure collection. After 9/11, I wrote a few political statements, and suddenly everyone was reading me. When I had this sudden fame and success... I... I just couldn't take it, so I turned to blended puppy drinks. When people hear this they go, 'Hey! This guy must hate puppies!' But it's not true; it's just that I only like them in liquid form."

Are all the charges against the puppy blender true? Hear it from his own mouth.

"Yeah, I've killed a hobo or too; who hasn't? There's a lot of stress with blogging each day, and you have to relieve it somehow. The whole Satan worship thing is overblown. Yeah, I sacrificed a couple goats... but that's it."

Learn what led to Glenn Reynolds famous blogging style and his well known descent into madness:

"I just wasn't prepared for all the commentary people expected from me. All I wanted to talk about was little nano robots. So I'd just randomly pick a quote from some article and write either "Indeed" or "Heh" afterwards. Sometimes, though, I couldn't decided whether the quote deserved an "Indeed" or a "Heh," and I'd just break down sobbing and curl up into a fetal position. I was doing heroin daily at this point."

Finally, hear why he was so vindictive against the greatest blog ever made:

"What pushed me over the edge was finding the website 'IMAO'. I knew this guy was much better than me, and I couldn't stand it. I'd pop a few pills, wash it down with some puppy, and then stare at his site in anger. That's why I'd only link to IMAO occasionally instead of every single day as it deserves."

Order this stunning DVD now while supplies last!

I just realized it's Friday the 13th! I hope nothing unlucky happens to Florida...

Some good tips posted by Blackfive.

I guess I need more coffee when I saw this post from Derb in The Corner and read it as "My truth is that I am a gay Aquaman."

BTW, today is a special anniversary. I'll have more on that later today.

Because of Hurricane Charlie, I had to dodge flying trees and cows on my way to work. Luckily I got a bigger car now; my Hyundai Accent would have just flown away. For anyone else in Florida, here was Hurricane Fact Sheet I wrote previously.

Cheney made fun of Kerry's statement about fighting a "more sensitive war on terror." Republicans are so mean; I don't know why I am one (oh yeah, I'm mean; that reminds me: you're all losers!).

Anyway, I was thinking, if Kerry is elected president, how could we conduct a more sensitive war on terror? Here's what I came up with:

* Instead of writing things on missiles such as "Suck on this!" and "Payback time!", write "We're really, really sorry about this."

* Bombers will have a bumper sticker on them saying, "How's my bombing? Call 1-800-COLLATERAL"

* Replace Marine triumphant yell of "Ooh-rah!" with "Kumbyah!"

* Everyone in the Navy must memorize and be able to sing the lyrics to the Village People song "In the Navy" (or is that already mandated?).

* Instead of training with use of bayonets for close quarters combat, they'll train to use hugs.

* With each division, embed a reporter and a clown who can make balloon animals.

* Near each base, have anonymous complaint forms for terrorists to fill out (no bombs in the suggestion box, please).

* Instead of rifles firing NATO rounds, they fire bubbles. Yay bubbles!

* Give terrorists who bomb civilians a “time out.”

* Before beginning a strike, drop leaflets over the targeted area entitled "So you've been attacked by America."

* Train Special Forces to sneak into a terrorist headquarters while the terrorist are away so they can set up an intervention.

* Just because it's a war zone doesn't mean there has to be so much yelling.

* Each soldier gets assigned a terrorist to be the secret Santa of.

* Enemy fire is immediately responded to with the statement, "We know this is just misdirected anger at your father."

* Less naked prisoner pyramids.

* Try to get terrorists to surrender by reminding them over and over that our commander in chief "served in Vietnam."

Scientist have now genetically enhanced monkeys to make them workaholics. Are they insane? Stop enhancing monkeys! I heard a while ago about scientists making it so that monkeys can control a robot arm with their brains. Combine these two and know what you get? Monkeys with Doctor Octopus like arms working tirelessly to destroy us all!

While talking about weird stuff, I should mention that Russian scientists, while digging up an alien device that crashed in Siberia, found a rock!

Beo writes:
I hate it when people incessantly ask idiotic questions like, "if a tree falls in the woods and nobody hears it, does it make a sound? (Of COURSE it does, you ninny! The universe does not depend on your perception of it!)"
And then they act all smug, like they just said something intelligent.

So, my question is this: when you consider the effects of parallax, and the difficulties involved in the relatively infinitesimal length of the base used for ASA triangulation in which errors as small as one-millionth of a degree can result in a measurement error of tens of thousands of light years, why do some scientists pretend that they actually know how far away stars are? Are they all just a pack of liars, or are they just trying to impress women or something?

Since the beginning of time, everything man has ever done was to impress women. Topple empires, invent computers, shower daily - all to impress women. Why did John Kennedy vow to send men to the moon? Because one day Marilyn Monroe probably said something like, "I bet it would be neat to go to the moon."

Probably one day some woman said to a scientist, "I wonder how far away those twinkly things in the sky are?" Thus the scientist ran out to do some hasty calculation (and I bet he still didn't get any). So keep that in mind when reviewing any scientific data.

Reed the Viking writes:
1. Sandy Berger was caught putting documents in his pants and in his socks. Bill Clinton had a cat named Socks. Was the Cat somehow involved, or was it coincidence? Sam Berger got caught because the truth came out cause he couldn't keep his pants on. Bill Clinton also had problems keeping his garments on. Is Sandy Berger having relations with an intern? How is Hilary involved? Is she an Avatar of Evil?

2. Are sea-monkeys bad like land monkey's? If so, what are they plotting? Can Aquaman speak to them and convince them of good? If not, who would win in a fight; Aquaman vs. Sea-monkey's? One last thing; What would you do for a Klondike bar?

1. Hillary is the Avatar of Evil, but that has nothing to do with the rest of the question. As for Socks the cat, I don't trust cats and think he was probably involved. As for what Sandy Berger was up to, he was probably just stuffing his pants to impress women.

2. Sea monkeys are just stupid little shrimp sold to gullible children. Even Aquaman can beat them by just drinking one of those little aquariums they come in (and he could understand their screams of terror… muh ha ha).

As for what I'd do for a Klondike bar, I'd go to the store and buy one... but only if I was already going to the store to pick up a few other items.

Carl from Timonium, MD asks:
So when are you and SarahK meeting in real life?

That reminds me, didn't I have an announcement or something to tell you people...

right wing duck writes:
Lately I've been reading about monkies that can walk on two legs. I also saw the movie I-Robot. I'm concerned. What if they monkies and the robots take over. The robots are logical and would vote republican. Monkies are stupid and throw their own feces, much like democrats. However, monkies can reproduce. Therefore they would outnumber the robots. Eventually, we would have a whole congress and senate full of democrat monkies. help me Frank. I lose sleep over this every night.

But robots build more robots. Isn't that what I, Robot was about? I didn't go see that movie because it looked stupid.

* * * *

Frank Answers™ is now by invitation only, so stop sending me questions because I hate you.

The Chomps t-shirt design is almost done. I'll do some posts showing all the hard work and all my nagging that went into it before showing the final design.

It's gonna kick pinky toe!

Today's wisdom comes from an eight-year-old Shyna who is well on his path to being a wise samurai:

There should be no monkeys in the world.

Ken Wheaton has the full context.

...

Brian Kilmeade: You have to admit, it's quite a controversial stance.

Michelle Malkin: I'm just doing research and reporting the facts.

Steve Doocy: But first you defended Japanese internment in your new book, and now you're defending slavery.

Malkin: You have to keep the real story out there in light of the terrorist threats. If we had taken those suspected terrorists and made them pick cotton and compose folksy songs about Jimmy cracking corn and their nonchalant attitude about it, 9/11 would have never happened.*

Brian: You do have a point there.

E.D. Hill: Well, it's been great to actually have you in studio this time, Michelle.

Malkin: Thanks, but - not to be rude - it kind of smells here.

Steve: That's our next guest. You might want to clear out before him.

Malkin: Yeah... I'm thinking so.

E.D.: She is so smart.

Brian: And to balance that out, our next guest is Michael Moore.

E.D.: That was mean to say.

Michael Moore: Thanks for inviting me to your right-wing propaganda show.

Brian: We're fair and balanced, you fat, liberal bastard!

Moore: Hey, I... AHHH! I thought you said you'd steel-reinforce the chairs for me.

Steve: We did.

E.D.: Someone get him some cinderblocks to sit on.

Moore: Now, as I was saying... AHHH! Cheap cinderblocks!

Brian: At least the floor seems to be supporting him.

E.D.: Now, you are quite a controversial figure.

Moore: Lies! The majority is with me!

Steve: Do you make that majority by including all wacky liberals' imaginary friends?

E.D.: You have to admit, you didn't seem popular in your Oscar acceptance speech last year. You were almost booed off stage... and that was Hollywood.

Moore: More lies and propaganda! They were booing the booers!

Brian: How do you respond to critics who say you are extremely fat?

Moore: Again, lies! I'm normal sized... everyone else is extremely malnourished!

E.D.: Anyway, what we have you here to talk about is your documentary, Fahrenheit 9/11. It's grossed over one hundred million dollars, and some say it led the way to more documentaries making money, such as Supersize Me.

Moore: That idea was stolen from me! I ate nothing but McDonald’s food for over two months... I just didn't think of filming it.

Steve: About your movie...

Moore: Ham!

Steve: What?

Moore: You promised me hams! No more questions until I consume a ham!

Brian: Someone toss him a ham.

Moore: (gurgle)(slurp)

E.D.: Eww. I never saw someone eat a ham whole like that.

Moore: There, I'm nourished; now you can ask me more questions.

Steve: Now some say your movie is nothing but propaganda.

Moore: Lies!

Steve: But one of the assertions you made, that Bush made special favors to get the bin Laden family out of America, was directly contradicted by Bush critic Richard Clarke.

Moore: Hey, it's a movie. Not everything has to be true. What important is the contention that Bush made war for corporate interests - which is a fact - even if I don’t have facts to support. All the film critics understood that.

Brian: But that doesn't make any sense.

Moore: Ham!

Brian: Hey! You have to answer more questions before you get another ham!

E.D.: Camera 2 is shaking around.

Steve: Ed is sick today, so they had a last minute replacement as cameraman. I guess he's having some trouble.

E.D.: He doesn't look like a cameraman at all. He looks more like an angry dog.

Steve: A very angry dog.

Moore: No! Not again! AHHH!

Brian: Wow, he sure doesn't like Michael Moore.

Moore: THE PAIN!!!

E.D.: Now I remember him. He was from when Steve Irwin visited. That's Chomps, the world angriest dog.

Moore: SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME!!!!

Steve: You'd think it would be hard to inflict pain on Moore with all that fat to bite through, but Chomps really seems to be giving it his all. He's completely frantic.

Moore: STOP SITTING THERE TALKING AND GET HIM OFF ME!!!

E.D.: Maybe we should help him.

Brian: A lot of people would say he deserves to be savagely bitten by the world's angriest dog, though.

E.D.: But I liked him so much as that Scottish guy in the Austin Powers movies.

Moore: That wasn't me... AHHH!!! NOT MY GROIN AGAIN!!!!

Steve: It's time for a commercial break. Do you think you can wait through it, Michael Moore?

Moore: NO!! PLEASE END THIS NOW!!!

Steve: More of Moore and the weather after the break. Heh heh... "more of Moore." That's funny.

Moore: SOMEONE PLEASE KILL ME!!!

* Apologies to Michelle Malkin at the cheap shot, but I am a slave to the humor muse. As penance, I'll buy her new book and read it; this excerpt has really intrigued me.

David, a 15-year-old reader, was inspired by one of my recent posts to do an animation. Kick ass!

A Ron Leighton felt he needed to leave this lengthy response to my latest editorial:

It's just a joke, of course, but regarding the things that are not funny (at least not in the manner you intended)...

"And everyone was happy"???

That's what you call glossing over a messy, complicated and belying reality! That's some fancy footwork there, Frank.

Besides, people in a concentration camp who get an extra 5 minutes of fresh air (before they are gassed, of course), are "happy". It's all about conditioning. It's all what you are used to. What your expectations are.

Aside from that I am, I apologize, continuously moved to amusement (I'm giggling now) by macho posing, the sort of group-think that if we all agree to agree that bluster passes muster, the sort of always-talk-tough and no one will notice you're a big 'fraidy cat that seizes hold particularly of those who choose to call themselves rightwing. "You know, I got a big wrench, and I was replacing the engine in this chevy, and then I was banging this hotty, and I saw some French-looking faggot on TV, Fox that is, none of that Communist News Channel stuff, and I'll kick their asses, after I clean my guns, blah, blah, blah...

The idea that action is preferable to reflection is an old one, of course, but tellingly it has essentially been a literally fascist one. You joke that the Democrats are "bereft" (a fave term of Limbaugh-apers) of ideas. That may be true (did they have any in the first place?), but it is no less true of the Republicans! For both sides the Idea is, help the richer stay rich and get richer, expand the power of the government, carry on the War Against Iraq and keep up the charade of the War on Terror, so-called. Course, you might object and say look closer and you find some ideas among the Republicans, even if you don't like them. That, too, can be said of the Democrats. But who cares either way!? They represent a distinction without a real difference. The joke is on us! There's more to life than the simplistic conservatives vs. liberals faux contest. It's a game...a Game! There's more to criticism of Bush (and the other side, and the whole shabang) than mere partisanship. You fluff for the Game!

Ask yourself, people: Are you one of those knee-jerk war supporters (saluting and cheering from a great distance)? One of those Bush-loving, 9-11 inconsistencies and Patriot Act obscenities non-noticing types? Are you one of those few proud enough, bravely ready to give up sense and thousands of American and Iraqi (and Iranian and Syrian and so on) lives as well as the Republic you supposedly cherish as long as you can jerk off to Iraq footage on Fox? Are you one of those who bought the WMD lies and now cling to them clownishly and cluelessly well after even Cheney gave it up? Well, you're all a bunch of cheeseburger eating surrender monkeys! Disgraces to liberty!

Of course, this required a reasoned response:

Really? You understood it was a joke yet the phrase "And everyone was happy" launches you into this crazy rant. Here's a tip: Grab a dictionary and look up the word "ironical." While you're at it, look up "'tard." Then write "'tard" on a sign that you can wear around your neck. After that, every time someone walks by you, smile and shout, "I'm a 'tard!"

Do you just randomly prowl the internet looking to pick political fights? I couldn't have made that piece more inane if I had clowns in it. Are you mental? When your tape dispenser runs out, do you go into a diatribe against it about voter apathy?

So the word "bereft" is a favorite of "Limbaugh-apers"? Well, it's also used by people WHO HAVE A FRICK'N VOCABULARY! Incidentally, the phrase "Limbaugh-apers" is a favorite phrase of liberal goobers with the IQ's equal to their shoe sizes.

"I think a flat tax would be a much fairer system."

"You just Limbaugh-aper! Me smirt!"

Do everyone a favor and have the doctor increase your meds, loon.

Anyway, thanks for your input. We here at IMAO cherish feedback from our readers, as it leads to a better value for our customers and our shareholders (of which there are none).

Cordially,
Frank J.

Heh heh... 'tard.

From Hagakure: The Book of the Samurai:

Because of some business, Morooka Hikoemon was called upon to swear before the gods concerning the truth of a certain matter. But he said, "A samurai's word is harder that metal. Since I have impressed this fact upon myself, what more can the gods and Buddhas do?" and the swearing was cancelled.

Be of sound virtue, and never stand being questioned of it.

I have a new About Me page. This is part of my general updating, but I still have more to do.

* Move all other extra content to new template.
* Write new FAQ with answers.
* Make Reagan's Ronin page.
* Update "New to IMAO" page.
* Make verbal greeting for new readers.
* Add more people to Peace Gallery.
* Update frick'n random quotes.

It's just hard finding the time to do all this. I barely have time for making a regular, funny post each day and work on my other projects (right now, sitcom script!) during the week. I guess I need to set aside a weekend for updates, but this coming weekend I'm busy and the next weekend... oh, wait, it's not time to tell you about the announcement yet.

So new About Me page... Good? Not good?

Discuss!

Still no funding for the space laser! Am I the only visionary? Well, I would like to tell people that the space laser power can be increased to destroy more than just one human target. Look at this presentation and learn!

I drew a new space laser comic for tomorrow morning. Do you people want to see it, or are you tired of that crap and want me to throw it out?

Michelle Malkin has quite the story of a little Hawaiian island right after the attack on Pearl Harbor.

Reader Chase sent me this link with tons of fun facts about Aquaman (warning: contains profanity, so don't click on it and be like "Hey! I'm all offended and stuff!").

It's my silly sister Sarah's birthday today, so every one wish her the best and celebrate your own silly sisters. And, if you have a Hollywood production that needs a costume designer, know there is no one more hardworking, dedicated, creative, and silly than my silly sister Sarah.

BTW, there is a comment on one of her short films that specifically mentions the great costume design. Yay, Silly!

UPDATE: Ends up silly sister Sarah (the silliest sister of all, BTW) probably hasn't seen this (and I wasn't able to reach her on the phone) because she's all alone on her birthday... WORKING AS A COSTUME DESIGNER ON A FEATURE LENGTH FILM!

Go silly power!

Here are more military stories. I'd like to keep this going as long as I can, so, if you'd like to give your own explanation of why you joined the military or have a military story, please e-mail me with the subject "Military". Thanks.

* * * *

Charles writes:

My story is a bit more haphazard than most… A mix of Bipolar decisions and youthful mistakes. And for those parents out there, it all started with too many video games. One thing military shooting games and such really need is a sweat, blood and tears factor. Like maybe a tazer built into the mouse, so when you get hit, it shocks your whole system. And a maybe a breathing mask, so when you run in the game, it limits the oxygen you get… But alas, I digress.

I had dropped out of collage in my second year to make video games. After a year and a half of playing… One Christmas Eve I thought to myself, "I should join the Army, by golly I will."

By the end of January I was enlisted and sent to Fr Benning for Infantry training and Jump school, then on to the 82nd. I justified it all (both to myself and to family and friends) as an experience of a lifetime. Stories to tell, self discipline to set me strait, money for school… Blah blah blah…

In the end, I did it for my country. One thing basic training teaches you and is later built upon by being a 24 year old E-2 in the 82nd… Freedom is something to be cherished and NEVER EVER taken for granted.

I left the Army with a pride in myself, the Army and my country. Over the past few years, the civilian world has begun to erode away some of that pride. Washing it away with the flood of materialism in our culture and the superficially sacrificial values of our society.

Over the past few years, I really began to miss the Army. Not the BS details, or the long hard hours. But the outstanding (even if not perfect) citizens I served with. Those who would go forth into the unknown, all for his own reasons, and yet all for the same reasons.

I've gone back into the reserves recently, and plan to stay. Once I make some rank, I plan to finish out a career in the Army. I've been a civilian, and I've been a soldier. The latter is by far the tougher course. But I would rather make something of myself than make money for someone else.

TXVet has this to add:

I enlisted in 1970 To Protest !!! protest the draft dodgers that is

James of Right Face! rights writes:

In 1988 I'd been out of school for four years. The Air Force was a chance to get paid while learning to work with computers. My goal was four years and out. Sixteen years later it is my career and my passion. Every day I put this uniform on, I take pride in the knowledge that I have made a commitment to our nation that a very small percentage of our citizens make. I would not trade what I feel when I salute the flag for anything else in the world.

I am intensely proud of my military heritage more as time goes by. My father served 6 months in Korea at the beginning of the war in some of the fiercest fighting. He has five wounds and an artificial knee. My uncle was a B-17 pilot shot down and killed on the 2nd Schweinfurt Raid in Oct. 1943. Most of my uncles served in WWII. My great-great grandfather, a German immigrant in 1953 fought for the Union with the 14th NY Heavy Artillery.

The military doesn't pay a lot, but money can't buy the feeling that comes from being a part of a brotherhood that goes back more than 228 years. I am proud to be a small part of the forces that preserve and defend freedom.

Jennifer writes of a mcuh more recent enlistment:

Why did I join? Basically because I wanted to serve my country the only way I know how, and I knew I was going to need a lot more help with college than I was getting (I am working for Ups as a package handler). I had a certain admiration for those who served in the military, as any American should. Probably also because my dad served in Vietnam (drafted into the Army), my maternal grandfather (died when my mom was a kid) was in the Navy during World War II and Korea, my grandpa (my mom's dad) was in the Air Force for 30 years and has been a Lutheran minister for 40 years thanks to the G.I. Bill, my godfather was in the Navy, a gentleman in my church was in the Coast Guard and a Pearl Harbor survivor (he passed away around Christmas), my best friend's dad was in the Marine Corps, and I have a friend who washed out of Basic and her husband was in the Marines for twenty years. Because of my maternal grandfather and hearing that all you need to enlist is a high school diploma, I decided in the fourth grade that I wanted to join the Navy after I was done with high school.

Well, that changed. Fast forward to 2003, when the war in Iraq was starting up. I got into a few arguments with my parents about going into the military. Their reason was simply that they did not want their daugher going into the military.

A year passed, and I bumped into my friend and "cohort",as my mother refers to her as, Barb. One day, there was an Army recruiter walking around school, so she encouraged me to talk to him about enlisting. I did, and then after a couple of months of waiting for him to call back (he was based in Joliet, come to find out), I started talking to another recruiter. Anyway, I went to the station, took the ASVAB, went to MEPS, and I will be leaving this August for Fort Jackson, South Carolina for BCT.

Saw Michelle Malkin on FOX and Friends this morning. Lucky. That's my favorite show (I watch it every morning); I want to be on it. Guess I'd have to write some serious politicial books, but, with all the research, that sounds hard. Maybe I should just write another parody FOX and Friends transcript. Who's up for that?

What was I going to talk about? Oh yeah, what is known as the XBOX killings. Now, in the videogame wars, I chose the GameCube, which, unfortunately, no one would kill over. Hey, I'm a Nintendo loyalist; I need my Mario and my Zelda.

Anyway, do you think this whole incident will be good or bad for XBOX? On one hand, this gives proof that videogames cause violence. On the other hand, it's a great marketing opportunity.

"XBOX - the game system you'd kill for"

Well, discuss amongst yourselves.

Samurai General and American Shogun Dwight D. Eisenhower was to have said:

What counts is not necessarily the size of the dog in the fight – it’s the size of the fight in the dog.

True strength comes from the heart... not that fast twitch muscles don't help.

 In the olden days, the ruler of a nation was decided by who was strongest and could best kill his enemies. Political discourse consisted merely of battle cries. An October surprise consisted of ninjas jumping down from rafters.

 And everyone was happy.

 Now, eventually this became more civilized, leading to the contest for American President being decided by a no holds barred cage match. Campaigning usually consisted of wrestling a bear. This was the better idea because the opponent wasn't killed, and he might have better ideas the next time around (and a craftier headlock). Somehow - and I'm not sure of the semantics - this devolved into the Electoral College we now use today. And thus the pendulum has swung too far, making politics almost completely devoid of violence. When was the last time you saw a congressional debate end with someone doing a flying kick across the room? Months, at least.

 Now, it's irrefutable that violence helps political discourse. Yes, someone could begin to voice an objection to my point, but I would quickly beat him before he could say anything. Thus, it is irrefutable. So why was violence taken out of politics? Well, it's all a conspiracy by the wimpy leftists to try and get an upper hand. Everyone knows liberal ideals wouldn't last in an out and out fight. Most of their wacky stances on issues would probably be given up after a simple bitch-slap. Most people in the military vote Republican, as do gun owners, so a real "debate" like in the olden days would be extremely one sided. Sure, murderers in prison mainly lean towards the Democrats, but that will in no way make up the gap. Let's face it: in the area of violence, the liberals are politically bereft of ideas. Their only real response available is, "Ow! Stop hitting me!" And, no, we won’t.

 So let's forget our previous follies and get back to beating senseless our political opponents. You can't reason with people who wave "No Blood for Oil" signs, but you can use their signs as cudgels against them. Foreign diplomat getting snooty? Not after he has a trip through a plate-glass window. And think of what it would be like if a politician drop-kicked a whiny liberal; there would be some real leadership.

 That's why for this coming presidential election, we should petition that the president not be decided by a bunch of goobers punching chads but instead by a kickboxing match. That will show our terrorist enemies that we are a serious people... and that we will seriously kick their asses.

Frank J. is a syndicated columnist whose columns appear worldwide on IMAO.us and is the author of such mindlessly controversial books as "Hitler: He Wasn't So Bad" and "Kids Should Smoke More"

Sorry, busy today so no afternoon post. Anyhoo...

While I was gone, Michelle Malkin put out a new book and caused a firestorm. Apparently she's defending the Japanese internment. This reminds me of when Ann Coulter defended McCarthyism which I always understood to be bad, except I understood the Japanese internment to be very very bad. I guess I'll have to read to book... but I don't have time to read (I've been trying to finish Cryptonomicon for a year). Any chance of it being on tape (well, CD)?

Right Wing News has a great reason for some people to vote Democrat. Someone in Tennessee screwed up. John Hawkins also has a very subtle ad against John Kerry.

Davids Medienkritik has the jackass of the day. I'm not ever going to start to deconstruct the idiocy of this one.

Oy. So what are they trying to choose?

This contest is just calling to me. I have such a great idea for a sitcom. Well, I'll write it out, and, if it doesn't win (i.e. the judges are idiots) I'll share it with you guys.

SarahK now has a new location and her own URL: http://mountaineermusings.com/

Give her a house warming and update your links. I'll update mine... uh... tomorrow.

Today's wisdom comes from Socrates... who I think pre-dates samurai... and might have been made up by Plato. Anyhoo:

Regard your good name as the richest jewel you can possibly be possessed of - for credit is like fire; when once you have kindled it you may easily preserve it, but if you once extinguish it, you will find it an arduous task to rekindle it again. The way to gain a good reputation is to endeavor to be what you desire to appear.

The true samurai is what he appears to be (and thus probably not a politician).

"Yachting is quite different from manning a swift boat, Jeeves," Kerry told his butler as he stood at the head of "I Served in Vietnam." "Certainly more relaxing without the Vietnamese shooting at you. One thing hasn't changed, though: the people in all the other boats hate me."

"You suck!" yelled a nearby boater.

"What are those things in the water, sir?" the butler asked as he pointed at some metallic objects in their path.

"Looks like mines," Kerry answered.

An explosion rocked the boat. "We're sinking!" Kerry shouted angrily, "Doesn't the physics of buoyancy know I served in Vietnam? Well, I'll get in one life raft and you fill the other with my hair products, Jeeves."

"What about me, sir?"

"You can swim! What am I paying you for?"

"Can't I at least have a life jacket, sir?"

"No, I like to use the other ones as pillows."

The butler groaned. "Of course, sir."

* * * *

President Bush laughed hysterically.

"I think you really need to learn the distinction between a practical joke and attempted murder," Scott McClellan warned.

"Come on!" Bush said, "Look at Kerry's expression on the satellite photos!"

"Can we get to work?" Cheney asked irately, "Halliburton isn't paying us to goof off all day."

"We need to talk about the convention," Rove uttered as he emerged from the shadows, "The one known as Kerry gained little comfort from his. If we are skilled with ours, victory will be assured... just as the elders predicted."

"So how is the convention setup going?" Bush asked Rudy Giuliani, "Will there be many balloons?"

"Upon your request, the great city of New York will supply the Republican National Convention with very many balloons," Giuliani said, "My worry is about the protestors. If they get too out of hand, I will personally go out there and beat them with a tire iron. And you have the Giuliani guarantee that each day of the convention I will be beating protestors... unless there is a Yankee game on. Go Yankees!"

"Thanks, Rudy! You're the best!"

"This is true. Now, I need some exercise, so I'm going to a sports bar to pick a fight with anyone who doesn't love the Yankees." Giuliani then left the room.

"This convention is going to be the best!" Bush exclaimed, "Nothing could ruin it!"

"Come to the war room," Condi said over the intercom, "We have news of something that could ruin the convention."

"Dammit!"

* * * *

In the war room, Rumsfeld was busy crossing countries out on a map of the world. "When do I get my next war?" he demanded of Bush, "We're running out of evil Iraqis to kill!"

"As I keep telling you," Bush answered, "when I win reelection. Then you can war all you want."

"Then you better win!" Rumsfeld snarled.

"On to business," Condi said, "as we all know, terrorists are plotting to attack financial institutions."

"But Halliburton needs financial institutions to do evil!" Cheney exclaimed.

"Why are terrorists always plotting to blow up stuff we like?" Bush asked angrily, "Why can't they blow up something we hate... like themselves." He thought for a moment. "Oh wait, they do."

"It gets worse," Condi said, "We have confirmation of terrorists plotting to attack the Republican National Convention."

"They could damage the balloons!" Bush exclaimed, "We need to stop them!"

"We have a man on the inside finding information about a terrorist meeting right now," Condi said, and then pointed to a monitor. On it was video of a number of Muslim extremists.

"Before we continue on about our plot to blow up the Republican National Convention, I'd just like to introduce our newest member, Chomps, the World's 24,567th angriest Muslim extremist." The terrorist then pointed to the camera.

"I know this isn't my field," Scott said, "but I question the wisdom of constantly using a mentally unstable rottweiler as an undercover agent."

"Come on, Scott," Bush answered, "Half my cabinet is mentally unstable."

"Could you quiet your talking monkey before I strangle him!" Rumsfeld shouted at Bush.

"Yeah, shut up, Scott," Bush said.

"It is important that we time the attack right so that we kill the crusader President Bush," said the terrorist leader.

"But I don't want to be killed!" Bush shouted, "We need to stop them, Condi!"

"Most of us don't want you killed either, sir," Condi answered, "but it's not as simple as stopping this one cell. Many terrorists groups are plotting this together."

"We'll have to stop them all!" Bush proclaimed, and then thought for a moment. "Any reason we can't kill this group now?"

"None I can think of," Condi answered.

"Hopefully we will succeed in getting John Kerry elected," the terrorist leader said.

"I like him," said another terrorist, "He served in Vietnam which proves to me he could be a good leader."

"What do you think, Chomps?" the terrorist leader asked.

"Hippies!" Rumsfeld said into the radio, "I repeat: Hippies!"

The camera started shaking violently as they heard a snarling sound. "Hey," they could hear the terrorist leader say, "You kinda look like an angry dog."

"A very angry dog," said another terrorist.

"Don't let him touch us or we'll be unclean!" was the last shout before the screen was covered in red.

Bush looked to Scott. "Now it's up to you to stop all terrorists."

Scott sighed. "Again!"

* * * *

"So is the White House concerned about the reported plans for terrorist attacks against financial institutions and the Republican National Convention?" asked a reporter.

"Not at all," Scott answered, "Financial institutions and political conventions get blown up all the time. It's so common place that the media never even bothers reporting about it."

"That not true," said the reporter.

"Shut up!" Scott yelled, "Anyway, I'm just glad that terrorists are focusing on targets like those rather than the one thing that would really dampen our spirits... the one thing that, if attacked, we, the American people, would never recover from. And that one thing is..."

* * * *

"Nothing better than rolling around naked in a big pile of money," Michael Moore said to himself, "Except for rolling around naked in a big pile of money while eating fried chicken!" He paused for a second. "What's that ticking sound?"

* * * *

"After being declared by White House Press Secretary as 'the only thing holding America together,' Michael Moore was the victim of a terrorist attack," said Melinda Hawkish of FOX News. "Unfortunately, he was too fat to be blown up, and the only thing damaged was his hat." Melinda stopped for a minute to listen to her ear piece. "What do you mean saying 'unfortunately' shows bias?" She looked back to the camera. "If you like Michael Moore, you're watching the wrong (bleep)ing channel. Now, next up is a special report by Brit Hume on how critics of the FOX News channel tend to have extremely small penises... including the women. FOX News: We report, you decide."

Trying to relax this weekend to no avail, but I would just like to tell you that regular posting resusmes tomorrow, starting with an In My World™ that's already in the can awaiting my half-assed proofreading. See you then, ronin.

Horribly hectic day, but at least there was a nice end to it. My back porch got screened in while I was gone, so I took a moment to enjoy the night while smoking a cigarillo and drinking a Guinness. No bugs to bother me, just the world to myself.

Have a great weekend, everyone.

We were supposed to leave the airport in Nebraska at 5:40pm (6:40pm ET) yesterday and then catch a connection in Atlanta to reach home in Melbourne. But it was stormy in Atlanta, and the thunder must of scared the po' wittle pilots, so we didn't get an f'n plane until 9:20 (10:20 ET). We don't get to Atlanta until 12:30am and are desperately trying to find a connection to anywhere nearby to Melbourne, be it Orlando or even Jacksonville. No luck. Next flight is 8:15am.

"Oh, and since it's weather that caused the delay, you don't get any compensation."

The Atlanta D terminal where my flight is coming eight hours later is lit like brighter than the sun, has midnight shift workers everywhere using things that sound like indoor lawnmowers, and has CNN blaring on multiple T.V.'s (stupid liberal media not letting me sleep). Dr. J and I find the quitest nook in the terminal. The seats all have arm rest, so lying on top of them won't work. But lying under them at least shields one from the lights, and my briefcase makes a poor imitation of a pillow.

As soon as I finally get to sleep, Dr. J kicks me awake saying I'm snoring. Crazy bastard! I never heard me snore! Let me sleep!

I then wake myself up mid-snore. Goddamn, I do snore! Or at least the condition of lying on concrete huddled under a bench of seats like some hobo (luckily Glenn Reynolds wasn't around to murder me) makes me snore.

Anyway, I'm home now, and, after my spam filter had its way, I still have 520 e-mails to sort through. That will happen later, as I go sleep now.

No posts for you!

Grrr, I was supposed to arrive home to a nice three-day weekend, but the best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men, gang aft agley.

Wait! What the f**k does that mean? I really need some sleep...

And wasn't there some big announcement? Oh, that's for later...

I said I wasn't going to post until I got back to Florida, but Doug the T-Shirt guy of ThoseShirts.com alerted me to a scandal involving me that I was unaware of (I've barely been able to do any blog reading lately).

Apparently, Atrios said that Glenn Reynolds is racist for wearing the "Celebrate Diversity" t-shirt. Then some guy called Steve Gilliard says my quote on ThoseShirts.com makes me racist because "monkeys" is a racist code word. Then someone else says that I must obviously be Atrios in disguise! And Glenn Reynolds agrees!

To clear everything up, I just want to say IT'S ALL COMPLETELY TRUE! I am Atrios. I pretended to be crazy lefty as it was the only way to bring down the tyrannical puppy blender... and I fooled you all (Ha Ha!). Also, every time I talk about monkeys, I am being racist. And, when you laugh at my jokes, you are racist (Ha Ha!).

I fool you all good and you stupid and me smart (Ha Ha!)!

Too tired to write about anything; had another night of free food and drinks (it's called networking). Just want to say that the next post you see from me will be back from my home base in Florida. See you then.

Dear President Bush,

I hear that you are going to follow the 9/11 Report's recommendation and hire an Intelligence Czar. I'm going to offer an obvious candidate:

Me.

First off, I'm intelligent. Secondly, I don't know what a czar is, but I'm sure I can do that too. And there are many other great reasons:

* Finding terrorists so they die makes me happy.

* I consider monkeys to also be terrorists.

* I hardly even embezzle money.

* I think of out of the box solutions such as space lasers.

* I come off as extremely non-partisan if surrounded by fellow Republicans.

Now, I didn't spend four years (well, almost four years) in college so I could get paid $5.50 an hour to be some czar. If I privilege the U.S. with my service, I will demand a number of items.

First, I need an office atop a tall building so I can look down on the tiny ants that are people and know all that they do. Alternately, I could have a secret underground lair which you get to by some speeding elevator that races miles under the earth. From there, monitors and computers would tell me all that happens in the world. Complete omnipotence would be mine!

Also, I need a rocket car. Then, when people see me, they will sing:

There goes the United States Intelligence Czar,
Driving around town in his super rocket car.
If you are a terrorist, he knows where you are,
'Cause he's the United States Intelligence Czar.

And I need to be able to hire my own staff including SarahK as the Intelligence Czar T-Shirt Babe (to model the Intelligence Czar t-shirts that will inevitably be demanded).

I should be trained by masters in China in kung-fu, for the Intelligence Czar will become a target of constant ninja attacks and I must never be humiliated in battle.

On the subject of battle, I want dual 1911s, one the mirror of the other (a thumb safety on the right and ejects bullet to the left).

If possible, I want cyber-battle armor to wear under my suit. This should be a secret known by few other than me.

CITIZEN 1: Oh no! Terrorists are attacking! And where has the Intelligence Czar gone?

CITIZEN 2: Look! It's Cyber-Samurai come to save us!

CYBER-SAMURAI (ME): Fear not, puny mortals! I will save you all at quite reasonable rates... which must be negotiated in advance.

Or, if the creation of the Intelligence Czar is just an empty gesture to make it look like you are doing something, I'm fine with sitting around doing nothing; I'm a team player. Just make the salary offer.

I just came from conferences with thousand attendees to one with fifty people at most, and it still was a big enough event for the Omaha mayor to visit since apparently nothing else more interesting was going on here. He made sure to mention their zoo now has gorillas (scientific name gorilla gorilla). Good for Omaha.

At least I found out that my hotel has the arcade game Point Blank 2 (a fun shooting game that's actually appropriate for all ages).

Well, might as well write you guys another political post since I have nothing better to do. Only two more days of this...

Who gave the Democrats a national convention? Well, before their crazy ideas can spread too far, I sent my crack research team to find all they can about the dreaded Crat’s of Dem.

FUN FACTS ABOUT DEMOCRATS

* Democrats chose the donkey as their symbol because the Democrat base smells as bad as one and has the same verbal skills. In the donkey's defense, it's smart enough to understand a butterfly ballot.

* The name Democrat comes from the combination of "demo" - which means "demonic" - and "crat" - which is a term for something unidentifiable which you scrape off your shoe.

* If your skin pigmentation is dark enough, you may be legally required to vote for Democrats.

* Democrats are big into class warfare. They also are for gun control which has caused the deadliest firearms to be too expensive except for the rich to buy. So, if class warfare ever goes to blows, it won't last long.

* No matter what legislation the Republicans propose, the Democrats call it "just a tax cut for the rich." When Republicans proposed to free the slaves, Democrats called it "just a tax cut for the rich."

* The base of the Democratic part is thought to be angry, drunken dwarves, but they may in fact be gnomes.

* Plus some are pixies or something similar.

* Though there are more registered Democrats, they don't vote as much as Republicans percentage-wise because of their tendency to be distracted by shiny things.

* Democrats have lost most of the men's vote because they're a bunch of girlie men. Don't tell them that, though, because they'll cry.

* Democrats are always trying to get into your wallet to spend money on their wacky ideas. If you see a Democrat near your wallet, hit him on the head with a rolled up newspaper. You have to catch him in the act or he'll never learn.

* To do better in elections, many Democrats are trying to allow felons to vote. Next on their agenda: Allowing foreign terrorists to vote.

* Trial lawyers can and do vote for Democrats... probably for the same reason convicted felons and terrorists would.

* While the Democratic leadership is currently devoid of any real leadership or substance, they may try and make up for that with important-looking hair.

* Some Democrats may have served in Vietnam. You can find out which ones by seeing who tells you that fact over and over and over.

* And over and over and over.

* Many Democrats intensely hate Bush because it's easier than confronting the irrelevancy of their ideas. It’s funny to dump a bucket of cold water on them and hear them blame Haliburton.

* If you're plagued by Democrats, they can be scared away with snakes, guns, or concepts of individual responsibility.

* Bill Clinton, who cost the Democrats their majorities in the House, Senate, and Governorships while he was president, is still venerated by Democrats because... uh... I guess they're just frick'n retards.

* Democrats will often visit maternity wards and shake their fists angrily at all those who escaped the wrath of choice.

* Democrats are secretly trying to destroy capitalism. If you see a Democrat near capitalism and looking suspicious, immediately report him to the police.

* You can't set fire to Democrats without a permit.

* In a fight between Democrats and Aquaman, Aquaman would be slurred by an NAACP ad that links him to lynching.

* Every so often Democrats will roam the countryside eating everything in sight before plunging into the sea. That might be called "Earth Day."

* The Democrats have built a giant statue in tribute to Michael Moore which eyes glow red, shoots fire out of its ass, and constantly demands tributes of ham.

* Or maybe that is just Michael Moore wearing a gray sweat suit. Whatever it is, don't let it fall on you because it's heavy.

* Democrats are convinced Bush lied about something. They're not sure what... but they know it's something! Come on; Clinton lied all the time... Bush must have lied at least once!

* The foreign policy ideals of the Democrats involve waiting for the mighty France to approve anything they plan on doing. This should allow them to snap into action about the time half the earth is destroyed by radical Islamists.

* Every time someone votes for a Democrat, baby Jesus cries.

That's right! The only place more exciting than Vegas is...

Who am I kidding? There is nothing to do here. At least I have wireless internet access at my suite.

And yes, the gambling results yesterday was a joke. I didn't have enough money to play at the table like a big boy so I just spent the last night on the slots... losing. I think I left Vegas with probably a couple more bucks than I started with and a lot wiser. Next time, I want a real vacation and plenty of money budgeted to do some real gambling.

Anyhoo, might as well work on that post I promised you and publish that later tonight. I'll pick a winner to the caption contest later as I'm tired and cranky right now.

BTW, congrats to Blackfive.

Also, thanks to the Greek for pointing out this website of the major muckadoo I mentioned.

Also, we have a Ford Focus here, which, though easier to maneuver, Dr. J keeps complaining about it's acceleration. At least I fear for my life less.

Gambling results so far: Down $3650.85

I don't want to talk about it. I think the whole casino was against me ever since when I tried to roll the dice in craps and hit the dealer in the chest.

Anyway, off to a new land tomorrow. Said goodbye to the Greek by having him buy us an expensive buffet. I decided to write him a Bye-Ku like Best of the Web was doing:

A frick'n retard
Drove us around in circles
What's a slur for Greeks?

Well, hopefully I'll have a post for you late tomorrow afternoon... a real one - all special and hand crafted. Plus, I'll tell you what new wheel Dr. J will be chauffeuring me around in.

Oh, and didn't I have some big announcement for you all? Wait, I'm not supposed to tell you that for a week or so.

Later, y'all.

Even though I'm in Vegas, there are tons of those "What happens here stays here" commercials on TV. Hey, I'm already in Vegas. You got me! What more do you want?

Anyway, done with conferences here, and just as Dr. J started to learn how to drive the F150 with extended bed (it's easier to drive backwards out of the parking garage than trying to turn the damn thing around). Tomorrow morning, I'll be headed to an even more exciting place than Vegas for one more conference. Where you ask? Well, you'll have to keep tuning into the exciting adventures of "Frank J. Business Tripping" to find out where and if I have internet access there to tell you where.

And, if I do have internet access, I promise an actual regular political humor post (the one I've been working on). It'll be Monday, and you guys deserve it.

Heh heh, I'm just hearing on Fox News how Kerry didn't even get a bounce from the DNC convention. What a loser. If only he served in a war or something.

Anyhoo, going to end my Vegas trip with a buffet, a little more gambling, and saying goodbye to one of the two frick'n retards (the Greek isn't going on to the next destination; he got voted off the island). For those who care, I'll give you the final Vegas update tonight.

Later, sportsfans.

Decided to try the craps table. There dealer helped me out best he could, but it was a series of bad rolling and soon I was down the whole $80 I started with. Then I went to my old standby, the Monopoly slots machine, and, after some foreplay, I was down another $25.

Gambling results so far: Up $85.35

One more night to either win or lose.

Man, I'm having almost too much fun to be getting per diem.

Anyway, today there was a talk by some punk saying there should be "hacktivism" against the Republican National Convention. He wanted as many right wing sites taken down as possible (remind me to back up IMAO) and was going to list the names and phone numbers and what plays each Republican delegate is going to so they could be hassled.

Total tool. A complete toolshed, in fact. Hell, this guy could be a whole ACE Hardware store.

He was all about anarchy, saying capitalism is the problem, and that stealing from the rich for benefit of the poor is justified. He kept saying he wouldn't do anything himself, but was publishing this information so others could do things, to which I said, "RICO." While a few in the audience were sympathetic, most were definitely looking at this muckadoo and thinking, "What a tool."

When it came to questions, one person came stood up and gave him a good verbal berating and got a huge applause. When the muckadoo said he was justified because of all dead from the war and again mentioned bombing, one of the audience shouted, "So is it okay to bomb you?" Then he defended himself, saying that the American Revolutionaries would have been considered terrorists by the British, to which someone yelled, "Yeah, but they were capitalists!"

This guy wasn't worth a serious rebuttal, so I held up my hand to ask one of these questions:

"I hate poor people and hippies; is there a hacktivism group for me to join?"

"You keep mentioning how people are making money off of war. Could you expand more on how to do that?"

Unfortunately, I didn't get called on. It was ended early by those who ran the conference, one saying, "I'm all for fighting tyranny... but do so responsibly."

To which the muckadoo yelled, "By any means necessary!"

I like that slogan, "Fight responsibly... by any means necessary!"

Man, it was hilarious. Wish you all could have seen it. As I was walking out, one guy ahead of me remarked, "That was such an idiot. Anyway, Republicans and Democrats are just two sides of the same coin."

To that usual moderate drivel I said, "All I know is that I want low taxes and dead foreigners."

To his credit, the guy cracked up.

Well, I found out today that Guinness tastes sweet if you drink it right after doing a shot of whiskey. It's soon time for another meeting over cigars and drinks and possibly a visit to the craps table.

Remain honorable, ronin.