Harvey Olson: BlogWar

Sat, 08 May 2004 04:06:48 GMT

MEANWHILE AT ALLIANCE HQ

Friday linky stuff

Filthy Lie Round-up: Evil Glenn's First Post. This is the highest quality assortment of goodies in a long time. Don't miss 'em.

New Filthy Lie assignment: Evil Glenn's Fed-Ex Package

Sat, 08 May 2004 02:18:26 GMT

BLOGLESS SALLY'S FILTHY LIE

One of the Alliance's blogless Sympathetic Civilians (Sally) asked me to post her filthy lie for her. Since it's a good first effort, I see no reason not to:

(Glenn Reynolds, Harvard, circa 1991 sitting on his beanbag of the blackest ice still awaiting his throne)

...Tap... tap... tap...

"Ahhh the trusty old BBC Micro. Muwahahaha! Bow... down... before... the... Evil... Internet... Overlord!!!! Heh, indee......"

....CLICK....

....Reconnection noise of modem....

"Heh! Not enough people on this internet-thing to dominate yet."

....CLICK....

....Reconnection noise of modem....

....Busy tone....

"Gives me time to work on my typing speed and look at www.penguinporn.com though... Mmmmm flightless aquatic arctic waterfowl tastefully posed."

....Reconnection noise of modem....

"Damn my ISP and Dial Up!!!"

....CLICK....

....Reconnection noise of modem....

....Busy tone....

Fast Forward 7 years, many typing monkeys and several thousand blended puppies/murdered hobos later....

"I am now a FULLY FLEDGED megalomaniac! Sorry, LAWYER. If only I didn't feel so lethargic!"

....Blender noises and slurping....

WWWWHHHIIIIIRRRRRRRR..... YIP YIP YIP Squelch

"Mmmmm. Springer spaniel puppy. Gives me a nice spring in my step. Now where was I?? Heh. Ignore my first post. I am now secure in Castle Glenn. The bones of hobos and puppies litter the great hall. I have several hundred pairs of socks to go with my sandals. I own 10 of the finest Italian mopeds with their 1 forward and 10 reverse gears. Black Mass is held thrice daily and due to my high energy diet (the Alsation diet - high in carbs and collars so forget Atkins! ) I have even managed to punch bloggers in my specialist French Schoolgirl form of martial art. What time is it? Really? I still have time to make 3999 more posts in the next hour then!"

...Tap... tap... tap... heh... tap... tap... tap... link... tap... tap... tap... indeed...

If you liked this, please leave some encouragement in the comments, and we'll see if we can get Sally's courage up to start a little something at Blogspot, and perhaps move on from there.

INSTAPUNDO DELENDA EST!

Sat, 08 May 2004 01:09:35 GMT

EVIL GLENNS FIRST POST
(A FILTHY LIE ASSIGNMENT)

I wandered into Madfish Willie's Cyber Saloon the other night, mostly to check out the damage from the comment party. Looked like the clean up was coming along fine, although the guys in the HazMat suits were a little creepy. Anyway, I figured a Guinness and some of Matty O'Blackfive's war stories would do me good.

But Matty wasn't there.

So I inquired politely of the Bartender...

Harv: Hey Bartender! Where the f*** is Matty? He was supposed to meet me here.

Bartender: How the f*** should I know, asshole? Do I look like his f***** mother?

Harv: Only by way of the hairy back. This is just weird. He's always here.

Bartender: Now that I think about it, he did call and leave a message. Something about he wasn't coming tonight because he was going to spend the evening playing "bats" with Little Blackfive.

Harv: "Bats"? What the hell is "bats"?

... Meanwhile at a filthy hippy protest rally in Chicago...

Filthy Hippy Dude: Iraq is Bush's Vietnam! Uh... something... something... something... bomb!

Matty: Ok, Little Blackfive, do it just like I taught you.

Little Blackfive: Ok, dad.

Filthy Hippy Dude: Condi Rice sure lies a lot! Condi Rice sure is a... Oh, hey little midget dude! Wait... you're not a midget, you're a child. That means... [thinking really hard for a hippy]... You're one of THE CHILDREN (tm)! There's nothing I wouldn't do for THE CHILDREN (tm)!

Little Blackfive: Good. Then stand still, f***face. [swinging Louiville Slugger] *CRACK!*

Filthy Hippy Dude: OH GOD! My kneecaps! I'll never walk again!

Little Blackfive: Or reproduce [laying a Barry Bonds on Filthy Hippy Dude's gonads] *WHACK!*

Filthy Hippy Dude: AIEEEEEE!

Little Blackfive: How was that, Dad?

Matty [tousling his hair]: That's my boy!

...

Bartender: You're right. That doesn't make any sense. Maybe he said "catch". Anyway, what's your poison?

Harv: Guinness. Cold. And a CLEAN glass, if you don't mind.

Bartender: Persnickety bitch. At least my glasses are cleaner than your skid-marked underwear.

Harv: I prefer to think of them as "performance art".

Bartender: Whatever. You gonna pay for that, or just stand there twiddling your dick?

Harv: Both [flipping paper onto the bar]

Bartender: What the f*** is that? That's not money, that's just a piece of paper with some scribbling on it. Is that a love note or somethin'?

Harv: No, Love Notes are for my wife.

Bartender: You think I'm your wife?

Harv: Nah, my wife at least bathes on occasion. You're just my bitch. Now what the hell does that thing say?

Bartender "Lie assignment - Glenn's first post". You want to ride Glenn's post? Sick bastard!

Harv: AW SHIT! I knew I forgot something. I have to find out about Evil Glenn's first post so I have a Filthy Lie for the round-up on Friday, and I haven't even started.

Bartender: Not that it matters. Your crap is about as funny as a porcupine enema anyway.

Harv: Beats your dumb-ass cow jokes, though. Damn. I gotta get outta here & do some research.

Bartender: Screw that. Why don't you just have your blogless brother hack into Glenn's computer & do some pokin' around?

Harv: Nah. That's GEBIV'S schtick.

Bartender: Who?

Harv: Nevermind. Look, why don't you come with me & help me dig up the dirt?

Bartender: Because you're a retarded monkey humper.

Harv: Besides that.

Bartender: Eh. No reason. Nobody's in here anyway. I'll kick the HazMat guys out & close early.

Harv: Great! To the Drunkmobile!

Bartender: Nope.

Harv: What?

Bartender: Can't do that. I let Eric borrow it for the night.

Harv: Eric? That souse? You think that was a good idea?

Bartender: He's a responsible former Marine. What could happen?

... Meanwhile at a nearby demolition derby...

Eric: YEEEEEE-HAWWW! *CRASH* WHOO-HOO! *crumple* Yippee-ki-yay mother- *SMASH*

...

Harv: I guess you're right. Come on. We'll take my Yugo.

We drove through the night, narrowly avoiding being caught in a toxic monkey-dung spill, and soon arrived at Evil Glenn's sinister compound...

Bartender: I can't believe you drove to Tennessee from Texas via Milwaukee. Why the f*** didn't you stop to ask directions?

Harv: Because I have a penis. Duh! All men are genetically incapable of admitting they're lost.

Bartender: I know that. I just thought that a mutant freak like yourself would be exempt.

Harv: You're just jealous because my size 12 shoes prove the old wive's tale. What size Nike's are YOU sporting?

Bartender [blushing & looking away]: Size 5... boys.

Harv: You've got short, stubby fingers, too.

Bartender: F*** you! Let's just get this over with. I've got a date later.

Harv: She can wait. Inflatable Katie's a patient gal.

Bartender: Hey! She may be a blow-up doll, but at least... uh... anyway, can we get on with this?

We snuck up to the main building, pausing only to kick a few of his killer attack rabbits out of the way (no offense, Roxette).

Harv: I didn't know bunnies could scream like that.

Bartender: Still sounds better than homicidalManiak's singin'

Harv: I don't think it's a good idea to make fun of a woman who wields a hatchet-saw.

Bartender: Oh f*** her. She can take a joke. So, how do we get in, Einstein?

Harv: Maybe ring the doorbell... [ding dong]

Jen [answering door in black leather catsuit]: Yes? May I help you?

Harv: Greetings, oh erotically clad minion of the dark puppy-blending overlord of the blogosphere. We are weary travellers who have sojourned many leagues, seeking knowledge of...

Jen: Let me re-phrase that. What the f*** do you want?

Bartender: Let me handle this, Wordsworth. We need access to Evil Glenn's computer database for a Filthy Lie assignment.

Jen: Sure. Come on in.

Harv: What? Just like that? I thought you were Evil Glenn's loyal minion and/or spicy sex toy?

Jen: Technically, yes, but I haven't been paid in over a month. Seems Mr. Important has been squandering the payroll on penguin porn and ivory-handled hobo-filleting knives. I'm game for a little payback.

Harv: Sweet! Lead on. And, uh... walk slowly. We'll fantasize... er, fondle… FOLLOW you.

Jen led us to a small office containing an ancient TRS-80....

Jen: That was Glenn's first computer. It should have what you're looking for.

Harv: Great! What's the password?

Jen: Shut up! I'm trying to do my nails.

Harv: Fine. Let's see... DRINKPUP... Hey! Got it in one. Now we just look for the earliest date, and... Oh my...

Bartender: Naked Helen Thomas?

Harv: No... it's... geez, I knew Glenn was a pathetic geek loser, but...

Bartender: Well? Either tell us or move your pointy head so I can read it.

Harv: Unbelievable... it says:

It's time to end this ridiculous debate once and for all. With my devastating intellectual brilliance, I will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Kirk was by far the superior Starship Captain, and that Picard was a total loser. The following 100 pieces of evidence are indisputable:

100. Kirk is a leader, not a follower.
99. Kirk never really got into that kinky "Jumpsuit" look.
98. Kirk has sex more than once a season.
97. One Word: Hair.
96. Another Word: Pretty-good-looking-can't-see-the-weave-WIG.
95. Kirk can beat up a Klingon bare-handed.
94. Picard is a French man with an English accent.
93. Kirk would date Beverly Crusher -- and damn the consequences!!
92. Kirk never drinks tea. Ever.
91. Diplomacy for Kirk is a phaser and a smirk.

...

Harv: He actually listed 100 different reasons.

Bartender: What a dweeb. What's that one comment to the post say?

Harv: "U R dum. Picard roolz cuz:"

101. Two Words: better voice.
100. Picard's ship's counselor traded in her miniskirt for that great low-cut neckline.
99. Kirk fought over women. Picard had women fight over him.
98. Picard fires both photon torpedoes AND phasers at the same time when in battle.
97. Picard's ship is better than Kirk's -- better, faster, stronger.
96. Picard hates children -- Kirk once rescued a bunch of patricidal little maniacs, tried to console them, and almost lost his ship and crew in the process.
95. Picard was responsible for Beverly Crusher's husband dying, berated her son constantly in her presence, yet still manged to make her fall for him.
94. Though admittedly he's seldom a patron, Picard's ship actually has a BAR.
93. Kirk fought others himself, Picard has others do his fighting for him.
92. When nurse Chapel re-appeared as Troi's mother, she fell for Picard.
91. In seven years, Picard never developed a gut like Kirk's.

...

Harv: This one has 101. Guess that solves THAT argument once and for all. And it's signed... Frank J.

Bartender: You mean Frank might have misled us as to the real reason for his declaring war on Glenn?

Harv: Frank lied

Bartender: But puppies died!

Harv: Such a moral quandry.

Jen: Would you guys shut up? I'm trying to watch my tape of the last episode of Friends.

Harv: What for? They kiss, happy ending, blah, blah, blah..

Jen: You BASTARD! I'll strangle you dead!

Bartender: Come on Harv, time to go.

We ran back to the Yugo, pausing only to turn around occasionally to enjoy the sight of Jen's leather-clad jiggling as she pursued us. Fortunately, her six-inch stilletto heels slowed her down enough to allow us to make good our escape. After another short detour through Wisconsin, where we were almost run off the road by the state's thoroughly hammered Attorney General, we arrived safely back at Madfish Willie's...

Bartender: Well, Harv, are you going to tell the truth about what you discovered, even though it may destroy Frank's credibility?

Harv: The truth must be told, otherwise the Alliance will lose the moral high ground in our battle against evil.

Bartender: But I thought the Alliance was based on Filthy Lies?

Harv: Aw shit. Another moral quandry. Maybe I'll just lie about it being the truth, in which case the truth will be a filthy lie and because I lied about the truth being a lie, it'll still be a filthy lie.

Bartender: Sorta like "Bowling for Columbine"?

Harv: Exactly.

Bartender: Do whatever ya want, dipshit, this is my stop. I gotta go back in the bar & tidy up a few things.

Harv: You mean pull Inflatable Katie of that shelf in the closet.

Bartender: Pretty much.

Harv: Tell her I said "Hi"… say… who's that standing in front of the bar?

homicidalManiak [casually twirling hatchet-saw]: So… Bartender… don't like my singing?

Bartender: …oh …crap … Uh… Hey! Look over there! Is that a bowl of lime Jello?

hM: Soul food? Where?

Bartender: Sucker! [FWING!]

hM: [jumping into my car]: Quick! Get this Yugo into gear & run him down!

Harv: Did you just use the words "quick" and "Yugo" in the same sentence?

hM: I did, didn't I?… *giggle*… Nevermind.

Harv: Say... how'd you know what the Bartender said about you, anyway?

hM: I'm LDS, remember? The Mormon Temple is part of the Illuminati, so I can find out pretty much anything.

Harv: You mean you could have found out about Evil Glenn's first post for me?

hM: What, that stupid Star Trek thing? I thought everybody knew about that! I've even got the T-shirt, see? [opening jacket to reveal "Glenn's First Post" T-shirt, with Kirk's reasons on the front and Picard's reasons on the back]

Harv: Oh.

hM: Did I say something wrong?

Harv: No… no… come on, I'll take ya home. Maybe you can sing me a song with that pretty voice of yours while I drive?

hM: Sure. Anything in particular?

Harv: Some Warren Zevon would be nice. I think you know the one [putting the car in gear and getting up to speed].

HM: Sure do. *AHEM*

I started as an alter boy, working at the church
Learning all my holy moves, doing some research
Which led me to a cash box, labeled "Children's Fund"
I'd leave the change, and tuck the bills inside my cummerbund

Harv: Oh yeah!

INSTAPUNDO DELENDA EST!

Thu, 06 May 2004 04:33:40 GMT

MEANWHILE AT ALLIANCE HQ

Filthy lie reminder: Evil Glenn's first post.

Wednesday linky stuff

Precision Guided Humor Round-up is up. 4 entries, all primo. Highly recommended.

Beer Madness results: Yay! I wasn't last!

New PGH assignment: Fun Facts About Michael Moore.

Sat, 01 May 2004 00:38:06 GMT

CAPTIONING GLENN
(A FILTHY LIE)

When you see a picture like that, how can you help but caption it like this?:

Glenn is stoned
and high on drugs
he should learn
to give more hugs
Thorazine

It's just kinda creepy that Glenn only has 3 fingers on each hand like some kind of cartoon character

His gaze fixated on his canine quarry, Glenn SLOOOOOOWLY reached for his Pocket Blend-o-Matic

Every year, Glenn moved his eyebrows further down his forehead. In 2006, he would finally achieve his dream of having the world's bushiest eyelashes. The Maybelline contract would be his. Yes it would.

Glenn "Shorty" Reynolds proves the old wives' tale about what you can tell about a man from the length of his fingers.

They didn't sell any T-shirts, but sales of Road Kill Possum brand toupees went through the roof.

I... gotta... go... so.. BAD!

Proceeds from the sales of this T-shirt will be donated to the "Buy Glenn a Belt So He Doesn't Have To Hold Up His Pants With His Hands" fund.

"I see dead people"

As the car bore down on him, Glenn just stood in the middle of the road, staring at the pretty headlights.

Glenn Reynolds' entry in the Mr. American Hottie contest, while bringing the gift of laughter to millions, still wound up finishing behind Urkel in a thong.

Glenn says, "Buy this T-shirt and you'll always remember which side is "left".

18 reasons why Glenn, while still a ruthless, puppy-blending, hobo-murdering megalomaniac, isn't ALL bad.

Chekhov called - he wants his hair back.

Having lost most of his fingers in a tragic blogging accident, Glenn sank to T-shirt modeling on his path to rock bottom, finally ending up as a boy toy in a Bangkok brothel.

INSTAPUNDO DELENDA EST!

Thu, 29 Apr 2004 04:23:04 GMT

MEANWHILE AT ALLIANCE HQ

Filthy Lie Reminder: What's Glenn looking at? OR caption this picture.

Wednesday Linky Stuff

Precision Guided Humor Round-up: SCANDAL!

New PGH: Improving Kerry's Website

Sat, 24 Apr 2004 02:58:14 GMT

MEANWHILE AT ALLIANCE HQ

Buy some truth for an Iraqi.

Filthy Lie Round-up is up: What you won't see at Instapundit.com. GEBIV's MISSION: IMPLAUSIBLE gets the nod from me this week, since he obviously put the most effort into the assignment. I guess Susie was too busy using compromising pictures of me for blackmail to get her assignment done.

Friday linky stuff.

New Filthy Lie Assignment (it's a visual this time):
What is Evil Glenn looking at in this picture?

Or simply

Caption this picture.

Sat, 24 Apr 2004 01:37:13 GMT

WHAT'S MISSING?
(A FILTHY LIE)

There are a lot of things to see at Instapundit.com, a spiffy little logo, millions of posts, a 500-yard-long blogroll and the corpses of blended puppies. But there are some things that are notably lacking. For instance, he has no comments. Since Glenn Reynolds is swaggering, overbearing, tin-plated dictator with delusions of godhood, it's not surprising that he has no interest in the opinions of the millions of "little people" who read him daily. The other thing he doesn't have is a quality "about me" post. Sure, he's got a tiny blurb about "I wrote this & that wonderfully boring piece of tripe, gaze upon my works ye mighty and despair", but he really needs something more personal. So I'm offering this list of "Fun Facts About Glenn Reynolds" for him to copy & paste into his sidebar. (Yes, I know "Fun Facts" is Frank J's schtick, but since he never reads me anyway, he'll never know I stole it.)

FUN FACTS ABOUT GLENN REYNOLDS

Glenn got to be the top blogger in the Ecosystem through a series of carefully targeted assassinations, which explains why you never hear about JimmyHoffa.com anymore.

Glenn invented reusable toilet paper, which, for some reason, never really caught on.

Except in France.

Before he types them up, Glenn composes all his posts longhand using a penguin-quill pen dipped in puppy blood, and writes on hobo-skin parchment.

Glenn's owns an '88 Yugo with license plate PPBLNDR

Glenn's incredibly thick geek-glasses were originally a gift from a fat kid who used them to start campfires while stranded on an island with a group of feral boys.

Glenn's day job is with the law firm of Dewey, Cheatham, and Howe.

Glenn's first web page was actually a Judy Garland fan site.

It was later sold to Andrew Sullivan for an undisclosed sum.

According to Glenn, baby seals "taste just like chicken"

Glenn owns 7 shirts, 7 ties, 7 pairs of pants, 7 pairs of socks, 7 pairs of underwear, 7 sports coats, and 7 pairs of shoes, all exactly the same. It saves him the trouble of having to decide what to wear on any given day.

Unfortunately, he keeps grabbing the same set of clothes, much to the dismay of those who have to work with him on Fridays.

Somewhere a portrait of Glenn is magically growing increasingly old and ugly.

Glenn owns a very popular chain of fast food joints in Tennessee called "EvilBurger"

People say the burgers "taste just like chicken."

INSTAPUNDO DELENDA EST!

Thu, 22 Apr 2004 03:55:13 GMT

MEANWHILE AT ALLIANCE HQ

Precision Guided Humor Round-up: 9/11 Commission. I kinda liked Debbye's naughty suggestion. I like ANY naughty suggestion.

Wednesday Linky Stuff

New PGH: What further scandals will examination of Iraqi documents reveal?

Thu, 22 Apr 2004 01:20:14 GMT

THE 9/11 COMMISSION EXPLAINED
(A PRECISION GUIDED HUMOR ASSIGNMENT)

Although it may resemble a free-for-all of partisan finger-pointing, the 9/11 Commission is actually a well-organized group of partisan finger-pointers, who are tasked with investigating several specific areas of inquiry. I quote these topics directly from the 9/11 Commission web site, and include their preliminary recommendation for each area, which I obtained ~~by pulling it out of my ass~~ via secret sources:

Al Qaeda and the Organization of the 9-11 Attack:
Recommendation: Pass a law requiring that, when terrorists stop at a titty bar for their now-traditional last night of debauchery before carrying out their plans, they be served only cyanide margaritas. These may be, but are not required to be, 2-for-1 specials.

Intelligence Collection, Analysis, and Management (including oversight and resource allocation):
Recommendation: The FBI and CIA must work together as a team. No more messing with each other's letterheads to make them read "Fat Bloated Idiots" or "Childish Ignoramous Asshats".

International Counterterrorism Policy, including states that harbor or harbored terrorists, or offer or offered terrorists safe havens:
Recommendation: The old policy of "give them money & hope they leave us alone" has failed. Hopefully the new policy of "Nuke first, ask the glowing wasteland questions later" will have better results.

Terrorist Financing:
Recommendation: No more "zero down, no payments for 90 days" crap. From now on, all terrorists are strictly "cash and carry". With all carrying being done by stuffing their gooey remains in a 5-gallon bucket.

Border Security and Foreign Visitors:
Recommendation: America no longer has the luxury of allowing suspicious people to cross its borders with impunity. For maximum surveillance efficiency, all borders will be continuously manned by bored, gossipy, small-town housewives known as the Gladys Kravitz Brigade.

Law Enforcement and Intelligence Collection inside the United States:
Recommendation: So that no detail is missed, all law enforcement and intelligence information will be retained in a single centralized database. Cyberdyne Systems expects SkyNet and its army of friendly, helpful Hunter-Killer cyborgs to be on line before the end of the year.

Commercial Aviation and Transportation Security, including an Investigation into the Circumstances of the Four Hijackings:
Recommendation: Before any passenger is allowed to board a plane, he will be asked the foolproof terrorist-revealing question: "If you were a terrorist and I asked you whether you were a terrorist, would you say "yes"?". If he answers either "yes" or "no" then he's a terrorist and should be beaten to a bloody pulp on the spot, since a normal American would respond "What kind of stupid ass question is that? Get the f*** out of my way before I miss my flight!"

The Immediate Response to the Attacks at the National, State, and Local levels, including issues of Continuity of Government:
Recommendation: Nuke the moon... or at least the crescent moons on top of mosques occupied by gun-wielding terrorists. Lather. Radiate. Repeat.

SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS!

Tue, 20 Apr 2004 04:04:22 GMT

IN MEMORIAL

We all know that Glenn Reynolds (Instapundit) puts puppies in blenders and then drinks them to absorb their life force, thus enabling him to post 750 times a day. No one disputes this fact.

Now, an obscure Japanese web site has honored the victims of Glenn's depradations in pictures.

Go. Look. Remember their little faces. And know why the Alliance of Free Blogs continues it's struggle.

INSTAPUNDO DELENDA EST!

[special thanks to Lynn and Michelle]

Thu, 15 Apr 2004 04:07:17 GMT

MEANWHILE AT ALLIANCE HQ

Precision Guided Humor Round-up: Taglines for Air America. Too many good'uns to pick a winner this week, although GEBIV's MISSION: IMPLAUSIBLE! is a guaranteed good time, as always. Just go check 'em all out. Set down your beverage first, though.

Linky stuff

New Precision Guided Humor assignment - your choice of:

1) Explain the 9/11 commission.

2) Make suggestions for improving the 9/11 commission hearings' ratings.

Tue, 13 Apr 2004 23:02:25 GMT

TAGLINES FOR AIR AMERICA
(A PRECISION GUIDED HUMOR ASSIGNMENT)

The premise is simple. If Rush Limbaugh can have success on talk radio as a right-wing commentator, then there MUST be a crying need for left-wing talk radio, too, right?

Not even close, but when you're a lefty, facts are just annoying things to be clubbed over the head with your emotions like so many baby seals. You just gotta wish hard enough, and you'll get what you want.

But in addition to happy wishes, if you're going to succeed in this business, you need a witty tagline to succinctly capture your essence. Rush has "Excellence in Broadcasting", Fox News has "Fair and Balanced". Air America has...

well, looking at their web site... nothing.

That's just sad. Here... let me help:

Finally, a network to the left of CNN

More spin than a helicopter rotor.

Where unfunny hack comedians got to die.

Of the ignorant, by the ignorant, for the ignorant.

The place to go when you're just too damn lazy to think for yourself.

Proving that just because you wear glasses doesn't mean you have intelligence.

As good a place to end our careers as we can hope for.

Proud member of the Axis of Drivel.

Almost as unbiased as Dan Rather.

No, this is NOT just the DNC's way of dodging McCain-Feingold, why do you ask?

Because "bullshitconspiracytheories.com" was already taken.

Not affiliated with John Kerry for President. At least on paper. Thank God for the Shredmaster 3000.

The one who will finally bring balance to The Force in accordance with prophecy.

Think of us as the audio version of the Democratic Underground.

Because seven networks and five cable news channels bashing Bush 24 hours a day JUST ISN'T ENOUGH!

NPR for dummies.

Check it out - we've even got a black guy. In your face, Limbaugh!

Coming soon to a tinfoil hat near you.

Like Rush without the drug addiction or the common sense.

Because Al Franken's mouth is too freakishly wide to appear on television.

More flaming assholes than the Preparation-H test labs.

Winner of the Jayson Blair "Credibilty in Media" Award.

Nearly as accurate as an Arthur Andersen audit.

Don't worry, we promise to go away as soon as the election is over.

SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS!

Tue, 13 Apr 2004 03:31:51 GMT

FILTHY LIE NEWS FLASH

Just got a report from Blogless Brother Tom. Apparently when Tom stuffed a Mac in Evil Glenn's PC case as an April Fools' Day prank, he also made himself a copy of a few files.

Of special interest to those keeping score on Glenn's nefarious deeds were two pictures from the folder marked "Hobo Kill'n Pictures I Took With My Head-Mounted Wireless Web Cam".

One labeled "before".

One labeled "after".

Gives me the willies, it does.

Oh, and any resemblance between these pictures and screen captures from "Postal 2" is purely coincidental.

Tue, 13 Apr 2004 01:46:00 GMT

MEANWHILE AT ALLIANCE HQ

Got a little behind because of my 5th anniversary, so... HEY! That was NOT dirty!... anyway, here's what's been going on.

Filthy Lie round-up: Evil Glenn's Easter. Do I even need to mention that GEBIV's MISSION: IMPLAUSIBLE! is a must-read?

Triple shot of general Filthy Lies.

Linky stuff, which it's mostly too late to get in on now.

New Filthy Lie assignment: What is something you won't see at Instapundit.com? Special note: Due to me taking trip next weekend, this one isn't due until the 23rd.

Precision Guided Humor assignment reminder: Write a witty tagline for Air America. due by 8pm CST Wed.

More linky stuff that there's still time to get in on.

MORE filthy lies.

Fri, 09 Apr 2004 23:07:25 GMT

EVIL GLENN'S EASTER
(A FILTHY LIE)

So I went to Madfish Willie's Cyber Saloon on Good Friday night to soak up a little atmosphere at the comment party. Carefully drying the unmentionable fluids from a nearby chair, I plunked down next to Matty O'Blackfive.

Harv: Hey Matty. Staying sober tonight?

Matty: Don't blaspheme. And I don't know what you're talking about. I've already put away two cases.

Harv: Then how come the table's not covered with beer bottles?

Matty: Oh… that... Tiffany & LeeAnn took 'em into the Champagne Room. They're having a bottle-stacking contest with some of the other Corner of the Bar Babes.

Harv: Hmmm... No hands?

Matty: Naturally.

Harv: Spy-cam & VCR running?

Matty: Of course.

Harv: Brilliant!

Matty: Brilliant!

[pause]

Harv: That was Mike the Marine's cue to shout "Brilliant!" Where the hell is he?

Matty: He's in Iraq doing a little mopping up around Fallujah.

Harv: I hope he's ok.

Matty: I think he can handle himself...

...Meanwhile in Iraq...

Mad Mohammed [swinging a scimitar around in fearsome circles]: ululululululululululu!

Mike the Marine [rolling eyes & drawing Desert Eagle]: Geez! Hasn't ANYONE in this stupid country seen "Raiders of the Lost Ark"? *BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!*

Mad Mohammed [gazing with surprise at the empty hole previously occupied by his midsection]: URK! *WHUMP!*

...

Harv: Yeah, I suppose you're right. So... what are you doing for Easter?

Matty: I'm taking Little Blackfive to his first Easter Egg hunt.

Harv: So you brought him here to get a little practice?

Matty: Sure. Wouldn't want him to get shown up by those little hippy brats in day care.

Harv: True, but do you think it was a good idea to let Goldie help with the training?

Goldie: Hey Little Blackfive, I've got 3 Easter eggs hidden in a secret place. Wanna try to find 'em?

Matty: Maybe he IS a little young for that. Come here Little Blackfive!

Little Blackfive: But DADDYYYYY! The nice lady was going to show me her "special Easter basket"!

Matty: Yeah, *ahem* well, why don't you come here anyway. I've got some jelly beans for ya.

Little Blackfive: Yay! Jelly Beans!

Harv: Maybe you should've left him alone. He's got to learn about "Easter baskets" somewhere, and Goldie's a mighty fine place to start...

Matty: What? Are you nuts? Mrs. Blackfive would kill me! I already had to promise her two hours of alphabet time just to get her to let me bring the boy with me tonight. If I brought him home with an "education", she'd probably make me wear the French Maid costume, too!

Harv: You do look quite fetching in that...

Matty: Shut up!

Little Blackfive: Daddy, these jelly beans taste like poo-poo!

Matty: Little Blackfive! Such horrible language! What did daddy teach you to say?

Little Blackfive: Sorry. These jellybeans taste like fresh shit out of a mangy dog's ass.

Matty: That's my little Drill Sergeant! Hmmm... let me try one... *chew, chew*... *spitooie!* GAH! It's like a combination of brussel sprouts & vomit! Try one.

Harv: *chew, chew*... *spitooie!* YEESH! Actually it was more like a Budweiser flavor, but still... BLECCH!

Matty: Let me see that jelly bean bag... AHA! Just as I thought! Radio tower with lighting bolts emblem and "a product of Evil Glenn Industries". Looks like that bastard Reynolds is out to ruin yet another holiday. Damn, and I still haven't recovered from that St. Patrick's Day adventure.

Harv: Maybe because you've been drinking continuously between then and now?

Matty: That's beside the point. Now... we're gonna need some help.

Harv: Yeah. I wish Mike were here. He's got a talent for tricky assignments.

... Meanwhile in Iraq...

Annoying Ahmed: Filthy Yankee pig dog! There is but a single pistol equidistant from both of us. Whoever gets it will kill the other.

Mike: Tell ya what, camel-humper, I'll roshambo you for it.

Annoying Ahmed: What's that?

Mike: Well, first I kick you in the nuts as hard as I can, then you kick me in the nuts as hard as you can. And we keep going back and forth until somebody falls. The last one standing gets the gun.

Annoying Ahmed: Well... ok.

Mike: [KICK!]

Annoying Ahmed: AIEEEEEE! *WHUMP!*

Mike [rolling eyes and picking up Desert Eagle]: Geez! Hasn't ANYONE in this stupid country seen South Park? *BLAM!*

...

Harv: Anyway, how about Dana?

Matty: Nah, she's a little too pregnant for this one.

Harv: Yeah, but she's got really perky nipples.

Matty: Hmmm… yeah… uh, No! Too dangerous. How about Susie?

Harv: She's kinda busy rounding up that new popcorn popper for the theater...

...Meanwhile in Indiana...

Susie [on the phone]: Ok, I'll give you $200 and "the Reddi-Wip experience", but NO spanking!

...

Matty: What about Heather? She's good muscle.

Harv: Nope, she's still doing that photo-shoot for the Car & Driver "Bent Over Babes" issue.

Matty: Hmmm… Goldie?

Harv: Goldie.

Goldie: Did someone call me?

Harv: Yeah, we need you to help us with a mission.

Goldie: Great! I love that position!

Matty: That's not what he meant!

Harv: Actually...

Matty: No time for that now. Goldie, just come with us.

Goldie: Maybe even before & after, too *giggle*

Harv: Maybe. To the Drunkmobile!

Matty: To the Drunkmobile!

Goldie: To drunks in high heels!

Matty: ...Are you sure about this, Harv?

Harv: Trust me.

Matty: Ok... wait... Who's going to watch Little Blackfive.

Harv: Oh, I think the Bartender can handle it...

Bartender: Why did the horse cross the road?

Little Blackfive: Because the chicken needed a day off.

Bartender: Good! Now say "Harvey is a Shpxurnq!!1!"

... We sped through the night, quickly arriving at our destination...

Matty: The Evil Glenn Industries Jelly Bean Factory. You'll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.

Harv: Can you please quote something from this century?

Matty: ... Wazzzzzuuuuup?

Harv: Nevermind. Goldie, come with us.

Goldie: Yes I have. Mmmm.... You military guys really know how to stand and salute!

Matty: Paratroopers always dive right in.

Harv: And sailors like to ride anything wet. Let's get moving...

...We strolled relatively unimpeded through the poorly guarded factory, pausing only for Goldie to make suggestive remarks about any object that was even vaguely phallic. Since this basically included everything that was taller than it was wide, it made for slow going. Nevertheless, we soon arrived at a door marked "Evil Glenn's Private Secret Inner Sanctum and Puppy Blending Emporium" which Matty kicked in enthusiastically.

Matty: All right, Evil Glenn, the jig is up!

Harv: Surrender or die!

Goldie: I want to have sex with you!

Matty & Harv [turning to stare at Goldie]: Wha?

Goldie [blushing]: Sorry, force of habit *giggle*

Evil Glenn: Whatever. You're too late to stop me. I've already made Al Franken a talk radio star! MUAHAHAHA!

Matty: Um... Actually, we were here about the jelly beans?

Evil Glenn: Oh... that... yes... well... you're too late for that, too. Now leave me alone. I've got a Shi-tzu coagulating in the Oster.

Matty: Look, my kid almost died from eating one of your crappy jelly beans. We're here to put a stop to your vile activities.

Harv: Yeah! What he said! And what the hell did you put in those jelly beans, anyway? I haven't had such a bad taste in my mouth since that time I accidentally grabbed a Miller Light while reaching for my Guinness. I had to chug the spittoon to clear my palate after that one.

Evil Glenn: Haggis.

Harv: EWWWWW! But why?

Evil Glenn: All part of my latest sinister plot to destroy a precious national holiday. You see I've recently come across the concept of Earth Dinner. A vile project promoted by filthy hippies to get people to eat dirt and weeds while spreading lies about global warming and acid rain. Those atrocious jelly beans will make people hate Easter, so they'll start celebrating the next closest holiday, which is Dirt Day.

Matty: Earth Day.

Evil Glenn: Whatever. Anyway, Evil Glenn Industries has already purchased huge soy and tofu production facilities to take advantage of the soon-to-be-increasing demand. I'll make MILLIONS!

Matty: No you won't, because we're going to stop you!

Harv: Ummm… hold that thought, Matty… Did you say… millions?

Evil Glenn: Yup.

Harv: ...and this Evil Glenn Industries… looking for investors, by any chance?

Evil Glenn: Ground floor possibilities exist, yes.

Matty: Dammit, Harv! Snap out of it! He's EVIL!

Harv [dreamily]: … millions of dollars…

Matty: Harv, he's out to destroy an entire national holiday. Think about the children!

Harv: YOU think about the children. I'm thinking about the rubbing piles of ill-gotten greenbacks all over my sweaty, naked body. Besides I hate children.

Matty: Harv, I know, and that's what I'm talking about. If Glenn destroys Easter, think about the children… the whiny, irritable, children who want candy but can't get it. Everywhere you go, hordes of bitchy little crumb-crunchers, going "WAAH! WAAH! I want candy! I want candy! Gimme candy! WAAH! WAAH! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

Harv: Good point. All right, Evil Glenn, prepare to be thwarted!

Evil Glenn: So you guys remembered to bring a gun this time?

Matty: DAMN!

Harv: CRAP!

Evil Glenn: Hmmm. Heh. Indeed. Now run along, little incompetents, I have cruelty to inflict.

Matty: Harv, I thought YOU brought the gun?

Harv: Well, I set it on the table when I came into the bar, but it wasn't there when we left, so I thought YOU grabbed it.

… Meanwhile at Madfish Willie's…

*BLAM* [crshh!] *BLAM* [crshh!] *BLAM* [crshh!]

Little Blackfive: Whee! That was fun Mr. Bartender! More! More!

Bartender: Heh. Sure, ya little scamp. You're almost as good at "shotglass skeet" as your old man.

…

Matty: I guess we're doomed.

Harv: Since we're doomed anyway, maybe we should buy a few shares of…

Matty: SHUT! UP!

Goldie: Oh YOOOO-HOOOO! Mr. Reyyyy-nolds!

… We turned to look and saw Goldie dressed in a provocative skin-tight spandex penguin costume…

Evil Glenn: *drool* mmm… live action penguin porn…

Goldie [whispering]: Wait for me in the Drunkmobile. I'll handle this…

Harv: Can we watch?

Matty: *WHACK!* C'mon. Let the girl work.

Harv: OW! Maybe we could videotape...

Matty: MOVE!

… 10 minutes later, Goldie joined us in the car.

Goldie: Here, Harv. Catch [throwing remote-contol-like object]

Harv: What's this?

Goldie [coyly]: Push the button & find out.

Harv: Ok [*push*]

KER-BLAM!!!

Matty: Huh. Remote control self-destruct for the jelly bean factory. How convenient.

Harv: Standard Evil Overlord stuff. But still, the hang-time for the debris is pretty impressive.

Matty: So, Goldie, what happened in there?

Goldie: A little teasing, a little bondage, a little leaving him handcuffed to the bed screaming in terror as I walked off with the remote.

Harv: You mean you didn't take advantage of him first?

Goldie: EWWW! He's a LAWYER! I don't mate outside my species!

Matty: So… looks like this is the end of Evil Glenn. There's no way he escaped that blast. Let's get back to the bar…

EPILOGUE 1:

Evil Glenn [crawling out from under a pile of rubble]: I am SO in love with that woman!

EPILOGUE 2:

Matty: Dammit, Little Blackfive! You untie the Bartender from that ceiling fan right this instant!

Little Blackfive: But DADDYYYYY!…

INSTAPUNDO DELENDA EST!

Thu, 08 Apr 2004 04:24:21 GMT

MEANWHILE AT ALLIANCE HQ

Precision Guided Humor Round-up is up: More Fun Facts About Terrorists

Filthy Lie Reminder: Evil Glenn's Easter due Friday by 8pm

Linky stuff, both posted and upcoming

New PGH: Write a witty tagline for Air America.

Tue, 06 Apr 2004 01:26:38 GMT

MEANWHILE AT ALLIANCE HQ

Precision Guided Humor Assignment due 8pm Wed: Add to the list of Fun Facts About Terrorists

Links to current and upcoming linkfests.

Mon, 05 Apr 2004 00:33:48 GMT

FUNNER FACTS ABOUT TERRORISTS
(A PRECISION GUIDED HUMOR ASSIGNMENT)

As noted at Alliance HQ, Frank J of IMAO published several "Fun Facts About Terrorists" on a recent T-shirt. Here are some of my contributions in the same vein, which will probably wind up on a thong or teddy:

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

SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS!

Sat, 03 Apr 2004 02:56:43 GMT

MEANWHILE AT ALLIANCE HQ

Filthy Lie Round-up: wedgies, scary babies, tasty soft drinks, frightening phone calls, and another MISSION: IMPLAUSIBLE!

New Filthy Lie assignment: What will Evil Glenn be doing for Easter?

Link round-up entry info.

Sat, 03 Apr 2004 01:26:20 GMT

GLENN'S APRIL FOOLS' DAY
(A FILTHY LIE)

So I was trying to get my blogging done last night when the phone rang...

Harv: Hello?

Voice: Hello. I'm calling from the hospital to tell you that your wife was killed in a horrible mangling car accident. We found her nose and ears, but the rest…

Harv: Oh. Hi, Glenn

Evil Glenn: April Foo... Wait... how did you know it was me?

Harv: You just called me 30 seconds ago with the same line.

Evil Glenn: Oh... must've hit redial by mistake. Well, since I've got you on the line, there IS something I wanted to talk to you about…

Harv: Yes?

Evil Glenn: The Blog War is really wearing me down. I want to surrender to the Alliance.

Harv: That's very French of you, but we've been down this road before and you didn't keep up your end of the bargain that time, so I know you can't be trusted. Besides, it's still April Fools' Day and I'm not letting you get me twice.

Evil Glenn: No, no, I assure you. I'm completely serious. No tricks.

Harv: How come you're not surrendering to Frank J.? He's the Fearless Leader of this cabal.

Evil Glenn: I tried, but he's not available. Remember when he posted that "In My World" where Chomps got killed?

Harv: Yeah...

Evil Glenn: Well apparently some people didn't appreciate his April Fools' Day gag. A bunch of his disgruntled fans stormed his house in protest. He's in the hospital now and the doctors are still trying to de-rectify the katana sheath.

Harv: Ow! That's gotta be uncomfy!

Evil Glenn: Heh. Indeed. But besides that, it's quite obvious that you're the REAL driving force in this organization. You've told more lies than Al Franken, Janeane Garafalo, and Michael Moore combined. You're like a blogospheric Air America.

Harv [grinning]: Yeah, I'm pretty despicable, ain't I?

Evil Glenn: A man after my own black heart. You're like a son to me.

Harv: Awwww…

Evil Glenn: A son of a bitch, but still…

Harv: Hey! Now just a minute!…

Evil Glenn: Another reason I can't hand Instapundit.com over Frank is that the changeover would be too obvious. I mean, look at IMAO: all that coffee-up-the-nose hilarity combined with witty insightfulness… The brain-dead zombies that read my crap would have seizures. Can you imagine going from "Indeed" to "If there's one thing I learned from history, it's that people from a long time ago were really, really stupid"? Exploding heads everywhere!

Harv: Hmmm… I see your point. And since everyone reads Instapundit, everyone would be dead, leaving me with one less reader.

Evil Glenn: Exactly. But with YOUR talentless hackery at the helm – transparent transition.

Harv: Brilliant!… Wait… Hey!

Evil Glenn: No time to waste. I need to you assume command of my dark kingdom.

Harv: I don't know… I don't think I'm evil enough. I only had ONE year of law school…

Evil Glenn: Feh. The only difference between a law school graduate and a law school dropout is the number of slutty co-eds they coaxed into bed with the line "I'm going to be a lawyer."

Harv: 37

Evil Glenn: 111. See?

Harv: Ok, so I'm marginally evil… but running an empire?…

Evil Glenn: I have faith in you, Harv. I think if you put your mind to it, you have the potential to be an Evil Blogospheric Overlord. Let's try something… Pretend you're the new Instapundit… imagine yourself sitting on a throne of blackest ice, your filthy talons caressing a keyboard…

Harv: Mmmm… pure evil…

Evil Glenn: Ok, now, tell me the truth… could you blend a puppy?

Harv: No! That's disgusting!

Evil Glenn: Not even a Yorkie?

Harv: … maybe a small one.

Evil Glenn: Good. Can you murder a hobo?

Harv: … is he French?

Evil Glenn: Well… he smells like it.

Harv: Consider him slitted neck to navel.

Evil Glenn: Worship Satan?

Harv: I DO admire Bill Gates…

Evil Glenn: It's a start. Robot Dancing?

Harv: I did The Hustle once in third grade.

Evil Glenn: Hmmm… maybe you're TOO evil… Anyway, praising commies?

Harv: NEVER!

Evil Glenn: Democrats?

Harv: Nope.

Evil Glenn: Hippies?

Harv: Well, I do have a lava lamp…

Evil Glenn: Perfect! Have you ever punched a blogger?

Harv: Kinda. When I was doing The Hustle, I tripped over my own feet and ended up jamming my elbow into some guy's eye socket, which made him scream "BLAAAAGH!"

Evil Glenn: Close enough. How do you feel about penguin porn?

Harv: Sorry. Strictly hetero. I mean, have you SEEN my wife?

Evil Glenn: Hmmm… not bad. Put a few feathers on her and…

Harv: Watch it…

Evil Glenn: Come on, there's gotta be something?

Harv: Let's see… penguins eat fish… fish are the symbol for the astrological sign Pisces… Taurus is an astrological sign… symbolized by a bull… and I DO know of one bull that's quite attractive…

Evil Glenn: That's a bit of a stretch, but I'll give it to you. So… there ya go. You're evil enough to be the new Instapundit. Now, just click on over to my site and I'll give you the keys to the kingdom.

Harv: Oh goody! I can't wait to start to oppressing the blogosphere! Hah. Hrmmm. Indubitably.

Evil Glenn: Now just type in the password as I give it to you.

Harv: Ah, the POWER!

Evil Glenn: A… P… R… I… L…

Harv: Ok, go on.

Evil Glenn: F… O… O… L

Harv: Ok… I hit enter, but nothing happened.

Evil Glenn: Uh… let me spell that to you again… A… P… R… I… L… F… O… O… L

Harv: Nope, still nothing.

Evil Glenn: You idiot! April Fool!

Harv: You're the idiot! That password doesn't work!

Evil Glenn: You… never mind. Look, you just keep working on it. I'm gonna go pop a Schnauzer in the Waring. Call me back once you figure it out… Dumbass.

[click]

So as soon as I get this password to work, Instapundit.com will FINALLY be under Alliance control. I'll let you know as soon as I crack his site.

A…P… R…

I… N… S… T… A… P… U… N… D… O… D… E… L… E… N… D… A… E… S… T… !

Thu, 01 Apr 2004 01:54:10 GMT

MEANWHILE AT ALLIANCE HQ

Precision Guided Humor round-up (and apology for being a crappy assignment) is up. Whatever you do, don't read GEBIV's entry because it makes me look unfunny by comparison. Bastard.

Linky stuff - past, present, future

Filthy Lie assignment reminder: Evil Glenn's April Fool's Day

New PGH - Add to the list of Fun Facts About Terrorists

Wed, 31 Mar 2004 00:10:29 GMT

BENEFITS OF APPEASEMENT
(A PRECISION GUIDED HUMOR ASSIGNMENT)

When I first heard that our former allies, the Spanish, had chosen to bend over and take the Vaseline-free loving of Muslim terrorists, I was very surprised. But after thinking it over, I decided that there might be some benefits for us if we followed them down Appeasement Street. If we give up, roll over and pretend it's September 10th again, then...

Women will no longer have to worry whether their outfits clash with the terror threat level color code of the day, since everything goes with red.

Environmentalists will be happier, since we'll no longer be bombing precious endangered species of sand.

Employees at Jiffy Lube will no longer have to waste time asking you whether you want 10W-30 or blood for oil.

Since filthy hippies won't have to spend their days at protest marches, normal Americans will once again be free to go outside without nose plugs.

I'll finally be able to get my nail clippers through airport security.

And I won't have to take off my pretty pink high-heeled shoes.

What?

The millions of innocent Muslims currently being tortured in Bushiter's concentration camps will finally be freed.

Gucci will be able to make a fortune selling designer bomb belts.

John Kerry can stop worrying about terrorism and focus on winning the war in Vietnam.

Our troops will be safe from attacks, as long as they don't become civilians and get jobs in tall office buildings.

Dan Rather will get more of the attention he craves since he'll no longer have to share the media spotlight with nattering warbloggers.

Once the kooks have been properly appeased they may, as Frank J muses, start using less explosive techniques on us. Like shaving naughty words on the backs of our heads.

We can be friends with the French again. At least for the five seconds it will take them to find another reason to hate us, like the fact that we don't speak their stupid, gibbery, monkey-language.

Friends with the French?... On second thought, let's just kill the terrorists and be done with it..

SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS!

Tue, 30 Mar 2004 01:45:28 GMT

MEANWHILE AT ALLIANCE HQ

GEBIV has a drink alerted follow-up to last Friday's filthy lie. Exploding paper, flying rocks, giant blenders, and blogless brothers in bondage. Yeah, it's all there.

As is Pierre of Pink Flamingo Bar & Grill's first foray into untruth.

A list of round-ups that are up, and a list of round-ups that you should hurry up and submit to.

Also, a tip on completing this week's nearly impossible Precision Guided Humor Assignment.

Sat, 27 Mar 2004 00:58:55 GMT

GLENN'S DAYS OFF
(A FILTHY LIE)

Instapundit (Evil Glenn), oppressor of small blogs
Sat upon his icy throne, blending puppy dogs.
Blogging like a man possessed, dead hobos by his toes.
"Hmmm. Heh. Indeed." he typed, hit post, and then he stretched and rose.

"This doesn't satisfy," he thought, "I need a little break."
"Some time away from blogging - a vacation I will take."
"But where to go and what to do? Some fun place I would think"
"A place with lonely women, where I can score and drink"

He went out to the disco, to prance around the floors
His Robot Dancing better for the spiders in his drawers.
With socks and sandals on his feet, he cut a mighty rug.
His venom-swollen johnson making BVD's fit snug.

He met a pretty girl there by the name of Fatty Sue.
A fine, sweet piece of woman (though she weighed a ton or two).
They both went back to her place, he kissed her at the door.
She took his hand and dragged him in, they smooched a little more.

Kitchen counter, heavy petting, things got really hot.
He reached between her chunky thighs, she said "YES! That's the spot!"
She dragged him to her boudoir and she threw him on the bed.
He lost control and threw a fist that landed on her head.

She stopped, she glared, "Glenn! What the f***? Why did you hit me so?"
"It's true I like it really rough, but that shit's gotta go!"
I punch ALL bloggers violently," said Reynolds with a grin.
"It's what I do, it's who I am, don't tell me it's a sin."

"Well I don't blog," said Fatty Sue, "and wouldn't if I could."
"Control yourself, you naughty boy, and fill me with your wood."
Glenn shrugged and sighed and gave his all in 15 seconds flat.
Then rolled right off and fell asleep. Said Fatty, "What was THAT?"

"That's all I've got," Glenn Reynolds moaned, "there isn't any more."
He closed his eyes, fell fast asleep, and then began to snore.
"I'll fix him up," thought Fatty Sue, "'cuz I know just the trick."
She grabbed her poodle, Fluffy, and she blended him up quick.

She poured the goo down Reynolds's throat, and much to her delight
His eyes flew open quickly and his manhood stood upright.
She climbed aboard his now-firm pole, and rode that pony hard
Her massive rolls a-bouncing 'round her ass of solid lard.

But in her eagerness to quell her raw compelling lust
She didn't hear his bones go "CRACK!" and crumble into dust.
Yet still she humped his broken form, did not let up at all
Until the "big O" took her and she gushed a waterfall.

She climbed off Glenn and said "Hot DAMN! You're really great in bed!"
Glenn just laid unmoving. "Oh my God! I think he's dead!"
"Not dead," said Glenn, "just slightly crushed, and if you'll help me up"
"I'll go another round or two, if you've another pup."

They went on through the night that way, bang - drink puppy - bang.
Her flabby body crushing his 'til dawn, when she said, "Dang!"
"You're really very virile for a geeky blogger guy."
"I'm sorry 'bout those broken bones... you up for one more try?"

But by this time sobriety had Reynolds in its grasp.
He got a look at what he'd laid, and sucked a frightened gasp.
Evil Glenn stared stunned and shocked, now seeing Fatty's trick.
For Fatty Sue was Fatty STAN, complete with Fatty Dick.

Glenn ran screaming out the door, and even left his pants.
"I'll never drink again," he vowed, "or even Robot Dance!"
And that's the tale of Glenn's days off, by now you've guessed the rest.
I'd set him up (I'm such a prick).

INSTAPUNDO DELENDA EST!