A literal description of my state of mind
A literal description of my state of mind
I've been busy with my eExodus, so I've neglected the blogwar. Fortunately, others have been ever vigilant...
Kin points out how Ethel could participate in the Russian X-games.
A gentleman would never embarrass a lady, but Kevin at Wizbang! let's the whole world know about Ethel's slip! Join the crowd standing around her, pointing and laughing.
And in news of the other war (the one started to distract everyone from our war), Glenn proves that quality whoops quantity's ass every time. Thanks to Electric Venom for the pointer.
Q: Do you really all hate Frank?
A: No. Unless we really do, then yes. We need a policy decision made here, I think.
Q: Frank sure seems violent and sadistic. Is he like that in real life?
A: Everyone on the internet assumes a new persona. It’s like a rule. Frank isn’t really sadistic. Not even to monkeys. Frank may not even be a male! No one’s met him, so we don’t know for sure.
Q: So he doesn’t really hate monkeys? That’s a relief, because monkeys are so cute.
A: Oh no, he hates them. He kills them on sight, just in very non-sadistic ways.
Q: He doesn’t blend them like I keep hearing about, does he? That’s sick.
A: No. Frank is afraid of monkeys, so he picks up their limp bodies with a stick and throws them over the back fence to his neighbors dog.
Q: What’s with the weapons he constantly brandishes?
A: Frank is into the eastern culture and martial arts. Martial arts were invented by the orientals because they had gunpowder but thought the only use for it was fireworks. They needed something besides knives and sparklers, so they invented Kung Pao (literally: spicy Pao). Later, when Americans were perfecting Manifest Destiny, the resident Indians (another eastern culture) reacted by doing Kung Paleface and massacring the white man. The US Army invented the Cattleing gun and shot cows at the Indians, which horrified them because they worship sacred cows and won't even eat at Burger King. The defeated Indians all moved to Cleveland and Stanford, Connecticut, except for those who opened casinos to screw the white man out of his money twenty-five cents at a time.
Q: So what’s this ‘Axis’ thing I keep hearing about?
A: The Axis of Naughty is a group of small-time wannabe writers who lack real social lives, so they post various articles and read each others work and act like those cliques you hated in high school.
Q: Where does Frank fit into this picture?
A: Same boat.
Q: There are a lot of Glenn’s around. Who are they?
A: Glenn is witty, insightful, and above the petty tribulations of the common man. The other is in the same boat as the rest of us. Uh, I think he's black too.
Q: Rocket Jones compared Frank to Aquaman. That’s just mean.
A: He felt bad about it and wrote a letter of apology to DC comics.
Q: How did Jennifer get to be head of the Axis?
A: She promised to send pictures of herself in her underwear to everyone who voted for her.
Q: Pretty clever! Can I see the picture?
A: Nope. I got the good picture because I voted for her first. Everyone else got a joke picture.
Q: Can I ask some more questions?
A: Depends on the comments I get.
Over on the right is a new tagline, and links to my compatriots in the Axis of Evil Naughty. Remember, it's all about the oil links.
Frank works for the online-dating service owned by NetFlix.
For anyone in the DC Metro area, the Greaseman is back. He's sunk to doing a late-afternoon show on "Country that Rocks", down near Fredericksburg. I was never a fan of his, but it's still sad.
Frank wants all the ladies to vote for him as 'sexiest blogger'.
Frank has extremely tiny feet.
Haiku of Love (dedicated to Frank)
Oo, oo oo oo oo
oo, oo oo oo, oo Frank oo
Frank, oo oo oo oo
(sorry, the Babblefish translator doesn't do monkey to english via japanese. It's ok though, because Frank understands.)
Frank claims to be a superpower. He ranks right up there with Aquaman in super-ness, alrighty.
Greetings, fellow freedom fighters! That’s right, you are all, each and every one, a freedom fighter. You are fighting for the freedom to be unlinkless from *spit* Frank *spit*.
Some claim that this war is all about the oil. They are wrong. Read my lips, especially those way in the back who can’t hear me (and next time get here earlier).
This war is about links. We do not need oil. How can I make such a claim? Let me explain. Think about a vast deserted wasteland, hostile to human life. A person without proper training and equipment would last mere days before dying lost and helpless. Yes, I’m talking about the bedroom of a teenager - specifically Mookie. Parents will understand and confirm the truth of my words. Now the desert of the middle east is a lot like Mookie’s room. The same dangers and pitfalls. The same forbidding terrain. The same potential to discover vast wealth under the seemingly worthless surface!
Tell me, where the logic is of going for oil against Frank, when we have a potential bonanza already literally under our thumb feet? Especially since while said oil exploration is going on, we can sit comfortably downstairs and have a pre-discovery party, and I can make a nice pot of homemade soup and we can play pictionary or trivial pursuit. On a side note, I presume that no one will object to the Clampett method of oil exploration. At best, up from the ground comes a-bubbling crude. At worst, we’ll have rustled up some food. Makes a nice change from Wagglty Tail energy drink.
Geography is also against Frank and his ridiculous claims about this being ‘about the oil’. I mean, he lives in Florida for pete’s sake! Now if he were claiming that this war was about the retired senior citizens, then that would be believable. It’s Florida, after all. Or maybe he’s screaming that we’re attacking him because we covet ‘people who can’t work a voting machine’. Plenty of those where he lives. My in-laws live in Florida and after the last election I sent them a bumper sticker that said, “Don’t Blame Me, I Voted For Gore and Buchanan”. They were not amused.
There is no oil in Florida [DNW!] (Like the DenBeste-esque hook there? I gave him the idea. Really! It’s the truth, just ask me.)
Frank compares himself to greatness. He sees himself as powerful and all-knowing in a historical sense, yet his actions indicate a lack of perspective and an inability to learn from history. Note that I am comparing actions here, I am not making personal comparisons (unless it makes you giggle). Fully engaged in a war with the Axis of Evil Naughty, his reaction is to immediately turn and attack a ‘sleeping giant’, a giant who awakens and turns his vast resources against the soon-to-be-crushed Frank. Remember that cartoon titled “The Last Great Act of Defiance”? A mouse is flipping off an eagle diving straight at him, sneering into the face of death. That mouse is Frank-like, and that mouse is an idiot. He’s gonna be dead. Instantly. So quickly you can’t even put it on the next cartoon, because it’ll be long over by then. But people loved that mouse. Because people are stupid, which is what Frank counts on. He has no respect for you. You are beneath him, he believes.
He sees himself as an epic leader, a leader who will be remembered through history. But he is doomed to irrelevance, like a certain other ex-leader. People will remember Frank when he occasionally pops into someone’s comments and makes a nonsensical remark implying his imminent return to power. He will then disappear again, sadly hiding Gollum-like, never comprehending that he’s mostly forgotten and not even worth pursuing any longer.
Some have compared Frank to Wile E. Coyote, and there are valid points to be sure. But this misses the mark in that Wile E. Coyote actually had a goal in mind when he did stupid things – namely to catch the Roadrunner. Closer examination of motives shows that Frank is actually closer to Marvin the Martian. He even claims to look good in black!!! What he doesn’t say is that he also looks good in the leather tu-tu. In fact, he’s been spotted in his neighborhood with a scrub brush tied to his head (although we won’t see that in his Peace Gallery I bet). Now in all fairness, reports of his unusual haberdashery are based on eyewitness accounts from the admittedly elderly. Their eyesight is not always crystal-clear, but we feel safe in trusting in their wisdom, gained through long life and experience (which is probably why most of them want nothing to do with Frank either).
So if Frank is indeed Marvin the Martian, then that makes us – the Axis of Evil Naughty – Bugs Bunny and Duck Dodgers of the 24 1/2 Century! While he frantically waters his Martian Birds to meet our threat, we are stealing his Illudium Q36 Explosive Space Modulator. Ha! And when he resorts to summoning Gossamer, know that we are well-groomed and prepared with scissors and aprons to catch the excess hair.
Indeed.
Frank, Frank, Frank - relent and add our links now, before it is too late. You cannot afford the second front. You cannot run and hide forever. Get it right this time and vote for peace. Offer the olive tree, not just your ‘negotiated’ branch, the whole unconditional tree.
Do the right thing, and you may just hear that earth-shattering kaboom!
More this evening probably. In the meantime, treat yourself to a classic love story, retitled for the small screen as "Tales for the L33t". And speaking of screens, it's best not have a mouthful of liquid while watching - you've been warned. Thanks to Pixy Misa of Ambient Irony for this one (and "Tales for the L33t Part 2" too).
Mookie abandons the 'shot across the bow' and rakes the opponent with a full broadside! See 'A pictorial history of the war', which isn't really, but it used to be the 'logo page' until we added some new stuff and renamed it.
More coming soon, I'm sure. I grounded her for no good reason and she's pissed off!
You all remember Haiku, the 3-line Japanese version of the limerick. First line has 5 syllables, second line has 7, third line has 5 again. Well, this is your call to action!!! Round two of our crusade against the netflix shill (I've just started the rumor that they hired him because William Shatner wasn't available) consists of a sound and thorough thrashing of his (many) character flaws via ninja poetry.
Pick up your pens! Sharpen your wits!
Here are two to get you started:
Strike fierce ninja pose
Yell 'Rarr' into silvered glass
Once again scares self
Once again afraid-of-oriental-kids-on-halloween-boy is begging Jen to surrender. To his dismay, our Commander-in-Chief has seen through his craven and snivial actions and once again laughed upon his prostrate groveling form. (I’m guessing that she has way too many plans in motion to actually call them all off in time)
In other news, we are pleased to announce that annika did NOT join forces with said synchronized-swimming doormat. She did not ‘cross the Rubicon', she did NOT pledge her allegiance, she DID NOT place her pets in danger of puppy-orphanism, SHE DID NOT 'drink the kool-aid' – though if she did, I sincerely hope it’s the unspeakable stuff they used to serve us in the military that comes in 55-gallon drums labeled “Drink, mix, powdered, green-flavored”.
Speaking of unspeakable, [insert insult here] is trying to declare war upon Instapundit. That’s right, he’s decided to lead his army-of-the-deceived onto a cruise aboard the IMAO-Titanic in an attempt to conquer the Iceburgh (I spelled it germanically so it looks meaner).
A small and under-appreciated group of warmongers are attacking, yet they are like mere mosquitoes around a napping guy in a hammock on a beautiful spring day when he should be cutting the grass. Annoyance!
Would someone please silence that small yappy dog?
Following Jen's lead, if you are not interested in the Blog War between the Axis of Evil Naughty and monkey-boy, I shall henceforth title all of my war-related posts with the word 'War' (a command decision, which is why she makes the big bucks). So scroll on down you peace-mongerers, I'll keep posting other things as the muse demands.
Still with me? Hmmm. Over on the right column is our official Axis of Evil Naughty logos page, full of happy little pictures to bring fright and terror into our enemy. Major thanks to Mookie for these, she did her usual great job. As a little teaser, I've seen her "Frank Files" folder, and she has things in the works that may single-handedly bring mr. I-need-a-cool-name-for-my-army to his knees.
The war on he-who-shall-remain-clueless nameless (-until-we-crush-him-like-a-bug, at which point we will gloat insufferably) continues. For those who doubt the ultimate outcome, ponder this wisdom from Jennifer:
"You can never have too many sharks with laser beams attached to their heads."
Which, amazingly enough, is the perfect segue (look it up Mookie), for my next... whatever you call what comes next.
It looked really out of place. Perched on my computer monitor at work was this cute, fuzzy little stuffed-animal puppydog. And tied to his head was a large, grey, cardboard shark fin, looking like something foolish children would swim around with at the beach to scare the unwary. The fin was outrageously large in comparison, prompting several protests and hate-filled letters from PETSA (you figure it out). It stayed there for months, and everybody would look at it with an odd expression, but nobody ever asked.
Until one day, someone did.
If this were "Ted's Universe", I would have scripted it just this way. Since it isn't (last time I checked), I just have to thank the fates for giving me this one. A manager and his posse were in my office to discuss a 'serious' problem and their proposed - and unworkable - solution. As we were wrapping the meeting up, he points to the puppy and asks what it was for.
I explained that it symbolized his management approach. You see, whenever a problem surfaced, this guy would raise hell, looking big and scary and frightening people into panic. But once you looked at the problem closely, you realized it was just a yappy little dog.
*****
Raiders vs Niners tonight. Yes, it's only preseason, but this is the game of the year for our household, at least until the playoffs begin. My wife is a serious Niners fan. I've been a Raiders fanatic since I was knee-high to Daryl Lamonica. We decided long ago that if our teams ever met in the Super Bowl, she would go stay with her folks for two weeks until the game was over. I like the Niners, she likes the Raiders. But not when they go head to head.
And how, you may ask, does this fit under the title "Cuddly little critters"? Raider fans are cuddly, and Jeff Garcia has crotch-critters.
