Friday, August 26, 2005

This is not an empty pie plate. This is an invisible pie.

For every invisible pie there is an unseen pie chef. For every unseen pie chef there is an imperceptible kitchen. For every imperceptible kitchen there is an ethereal bakery. In every ethereal bakery there are a dozen invisible fat men buyin some pie.

Where does it all end? Some say that every empty pie plate connects to a form of pie, or Pienobulous the god of pie, or the mythos and logos of pie. But who cares? You can't eat mythos and logos. Get your own pie.


posted by fafnir at 5:08 AM
Thursday, August 25, 2005

FAFBLOG: So what's up, Democrats?
JOE BIDEN: What's up is the war in Iraq, which is terribly mismanaged, Fafnir.
FB: Oh wow! Are you guys against the war, too?
JOE LIEBERMAN: Oh no, we're not AGAINST the war!
HARRY REID: We're all FOR it!
BIDEN: It's the best worst idea in the world, and we're gonna run with it to victory!
HILLARY CLINTON: Watch me eat a bug!
FB: So we can actually win the war! That's great news!
REID: Sort of!
BIDEN: Maybe!
CLINTON: I can wrestle a buffalo!
FB: I'm confused.
REID: The problem is troop levels, Fafnir. The US invaded without enough boots on the ground!
LIEBERMAN: Just another couple hundred thousand soldiers on the ground and hey, we should have this thing wrapped up in no time!
BIDEN: Just like I told George Bush all along! I told him in the Oval Office, "You're gonna go in without enough troops and you're not gonna plan for the occupation and it's gonna be the biggest mistake of your presidency and I'm gonna vote for it!"
FB: Wow, that all seems so prescient.
BIDEN: And then Batman jumped in through the window and said "Senator, the Justice League needs you right away!" and I said "Shut up and move, rich boy, we've got a moon to save!"
CLINTON: I have eaten the heart of a gorilla!
FB: So how come you guys voted for the war if the president was gonna screw it up?
REID: We were misled!
LIEBERMAN: We were deceived!
BIDEN: We were given the impression that the war was actually a match of bareknuckle fisticuffs between a mustachioed Brooklyn brawler and a plucky midget Irishman!
CLINTON: Wanna see me punch out a yak? 'Cause I will!
FB: Will the lies never end. But where will we get the troops from now, Democratic Party? Aren't we runnin out of em?
REID: We've used up plenty of REAL troops, sure, but what about FAKE troops? Why isn't the military pounding the streets looking to recruit new mannequins, crash-test dummies and hand puppets?
LIEBERMAN: Our nation's rich supply of blow-up dolls has barely begun to be explored for national security purposes.
BIDEN: To say nothing of our nation's patriotic trained seal and dolphin population! When will the Pentagon deploy the 101st Fighting Shamu Brigade?
CLINTON: I can tear a boulder in half with my teeth!
FB: Yknow you're right! An that's not even countin what our friends in the fungus kingdom could do.
LIEBERMAN: And you know, Fafnir, if we could train the Iraqi forces to replace our forces more efficiently, we could end the occupation that much faster.
FB: That's such a great idea I can't believe nobody's thought of it before! How do we do that?
REID: Voodoo!
LIEBERMAN: Santeria!
BIDEN: Giant samurai robots piloted by magical fairy children!
CLINTON: If elected I promise to rampage through New York City and swat biplanes from the top of the Empire State Building until my grisly and untimely demise!
FB: Now I like everything I've heard so far today but for some crazy reason most Americans think we should just start pullin our troops OUT of Iraq. Are most Americans crazy?
REID: They're not crazy, Fafnir.
LIEBERMAN: They're just weak, willing to expose America's flabby underbelly to the curved scimitars of a thousand swarthy terrorists.
BIDEN: We can't blink, man! That'd be like... like losing an arm-wrestle to Allah or something! Game over, man! Then they know we're pussies!
CLINTON: I will go back in time and become Richard Nixon and lose the Vietnam War twice as hard as anybody!
FB: Yknow you guys got tons a great ideas but you won't be able to do anything with em unless you win some elections again. How're you gonna do that?
REID: By listening carefully to the American people, and then ignoring them.
LIEBERMAN: By forcefully arguing against the direction George Bush is taking this country!
BIDEN: Just before we vote for it again.
FB: Thanks, everybody! It's always great to hang out at the Democratic Party.
CLINTON: Clinton strongest one there is!

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posted by fafnir at 4:03 PM

Oh sure, so Chavez wants to sell you gas now. But what he won't tell you is that it's commie gas. Infiltrating your engine, redistributing wealth in your carburetor, nationalizing your internal combustion engine, assasinating czars in your windshield wiper fluid! Oh, he has plans. Dark red Marxist plans - and they're headed right for your gas tank! You were warned, America - you were warned!
posted by Giblets at 10:14 AM

Giblets never saw what the big deal was with this whole Chavez-Robertson thing anyway. Giblets has his annoying neighbors assassinated all the time! A month ago Giblets got a team of military contractors to snipe the guy upstairs for dumping Giblets's clean laundry out on the basement floor, last week he had an ex-CIA hitman get the old man across the street with piano wire for leaving his trash out early, and the other day Giblets took out his next-door neighbor by planting an alligator in his bed (he was the classy one). What's a planned murder or two between friends!

Some people say it's "not the Christian thing to do" but that's crap. Giblets has Jesus chain-smoking right here in his kitchen and he says he personally killed over five dozen men in three tours back in the 'Nam and too many women and children to count. "There was those six that I know about for sure. Close enough to blow their last breath in my face," says Jesus stubbing out his cigarettes on the kitchen table. Then he starts babbling on about the dreams and how they "keep coming back and back and back." Christ, Jesus! Pull yourself together, you're embarrassing yourself!
posted by Giblets at 8:07 AM
Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Of late there's been some consternation at the direction Iraq has taken its newfound democracy. Indeed, even some of the Medium Lobster's own colleagues have taken to fretting now and again, nattering on about the rise of theocracy and the breakdown of civil order and the dismantling of women's rights. (How often does the Medium Lobster hear the lament, "Oh, Supreme Council for the Islamic Revolution in Iraq, I expected better of you!")

How soon we forget! America made its own share of stumbles on the long road to freedom. Yes, Iraqi women will suffer as nonentities under a stifling Sharia regime, but weren't American women denied the right to vote at the nation's founding? True, Iraq's constitution has passed its deadline long overdue, but weren't America's own Articles of Confederation rejected as a failure? And yes, that constitution establishes a theocratic state in which muslim clerics can strike down secular legislation that contravenes the tenets of Islam, but who can forget America's own experiment with state religion in the dark days when Pope Jefferson's inquisitors burned Alexander Hamilton at the stake for an excess of federalism? And yes, bloodthirsty sectarian militias rule the streets of Basra, Kurdistan, Sadr City and much of Iraq, but remember that the rule of law had broken down in the days of the founders as well, when Benjamin Franklin's Army of the Postmaster raped and killed any who broke with the extremist doctrines of Poor Richard's Almanac. And while it may be the case that thousands of Iraqis have died and continue to die daily in bloody, sectarian violence, how different is this from the early days of America's own republic, when James Madison killed countless innocents in his guerilla bombing campaigns against Chief Justice John Marshall?

It's all too easy to forget one's own tumultuous past when criticizing another, but we must put Iraq's small troubles of today in perspective. Compared to the attempted secession of New Englandistan, John Jay's kamikaze raid on the Continental Congress, and Supreme Emperor Adams's fitful six-day coup during the Annapolis Convention, Iraq is doing splendidly. All present should be content to sit back and watch what the president has so aptly described as "an amazing event."


posted by the Medium Lobster at 8:23 AM
Tuesday, August 23, 2005

We join Doctor Fafnir and Doctor Giblets as they race to save a stroke victim through the miracle of pluralistic medicine.

"The brain is irreducibly complex and intelligently designed," says me, "most likely by brain fairies. The only way to save this brain is to lure the stroke fairies outta the brain with delicious fairy snacks."
"You speak madness!" says Giblets. "Your fairy appeasement plan will only encourage these stroke fairies to cause MORE strokes in the future! Only a hardline anti-fairy stance will deter future fairy-designed brain maladies!"
"We won't get anywhere with your dangerous fairy brinksmanship," says me. "I've got a patient to save and the fairies-for-brain trade is the only way to do it!"
"That's just a theory, not a fact," says Giblets. "Giblets knows strokes are really caused by an excess of blood, the only cure for which is an increase in phlegm levels! Get me 50 cc's of phlegm, stat!"
"Oh no we're losin him!" says me. "Get me God on the phone, we need him to create thrombolysis!"
"No time for that, he'll take at least six days and that's not counting the time to tempt it into eternal damnation!" says Giblets.
"He has only one hope now: the artificial replacement brain!" says me.
"Giblets has it right here!" says Giblets scoopin out the brain an stickin in a bag a Stop-U-Mart ice.
"Doctor Giblets I must protest," says me. "How's the patient gonna think with a bag a Stop-U-Mart ice."
"He won't," says Giblets. "He'll think with his heart and use his new artificial ice brain to cool his blood and prevent heated disruptions of the humours like everybody else!"
"Well then how's he gonna keep his soul attached to his pineal gland then," says me feelin skeptical.
"What lunacy is this!" says Giblets. "The pineal glad has nothing to do with 'the soul'! The pineal gland controls telepathy, and Giblets thinks the patient can do without contacting the sunken city of Mu with his mind-powers from now on."
"Well that's just crazy talk," says me. "They got a ton a cool stuff down in Mu."
"Giblets can't take this any more!" says Giblets. "You with your superstitious imp-laden fatalism, Giblets with his proven, Aristotelian flat-earth methodology - they are completely incompatible!"
"No no, Giblets," says me. "Not if we 'practice the controversy.' Everyone's beliefs can find a place in pluralistic medicine!"
"Well, it's just so crazy it just might work!" says Giblets. "Giblets will heal the patient's brain through the principles of acupuncture, by stapling a tumor to his foot!"
"And I'll get angels to turn the blood clot into a pillar a salt!" says me.
"Together we will be unstoppable!" says Giblets.

Doctor Fafnir and Doctor Giblets eventually lost the patient, but they did perform a successful emergency appendectomy on a sick little voodoo doll. Congratulations on a job well done!


posted by fafnir at 12:10 PM
Monday, August 22, 2005

More an more people keep talkin about gettin outta Iraq, but the president wants to stay the course. Well here at Fafblog we believe in compromise. Why not keep the occupation AND get outta the country at the same time!

camouflageTHE TROOPS
The problem isn't REALLY that we got a over a hundred thousand troops in Iraq and Iraqis don't want em there. It's that we got over a hundred thousand troops in Iraq and Iraqis just happen to notice em! The compromise: keep our army in Iraq, but cleverly disguised as idle French tourists vacationing in the cool mesopotamian summertime. Sure some Iraqis might ask some questions, like "Where did all the American troops go" an "Where'd these French guys come from." "Sacre bleu, vive la france," our army would say in its striped shirts an berets, wavin a croissant in the air with disaffected charm. They do not understand, they are just on holiday! We'd have ta change costumes every coupla days so the Iraqis don't catch on. Like one week they could be disguised as bullfighters or cowboys or sexy nurses. The week after that they could be colorful potted plants. Who's that launchin an air raid on neighboring Iran? Why that's not the United States military - that's just lovable comic legend Groucho Marx pullin another one a his screwball stunts!

Should we keep permanent bases in Iraq or should we leave the area completely? Why not do both! The compromise: keep our permanent bases, but put up great big pieces a cardboard around em with paintings of permanent bases on em. Then paint signs on the paintings of the permanent bases that say "Ceci n'est pas une permanent base." That way when Iraqis wander by they'll just take our militarization of their country as a whimsical statement on the elusive nature of representation.

So far it's all goin great, but what about the rest a the world? What if they keep on naggin us about "What's goin on in Iraq" an "Aren't you still in Iraq" an "Whatever happened to Iraq?" The compromise: Throw a big tarp over Iraq! If the world starts gettin suspicious America can always distract it with its lively jugglin skills.


posted by fafnir at 8:43 AM
Thursday, August 18, 2005

Pie of DoomBeware of this pie. It is a dark pie.

Arthur Beasley gets the pie in the mail from a sender with no return address; he quickly loses his job, his family, an his house before tryin to set the pie on fire when he spontaneously combusts. Debra Nance tries to give the pie away to a neighbor; both are eaten by a crazed moose in the basement. Wallace Davies eats the pie in defiance. The next day he finds it in his refrigerator. He is frightened but eats it again anyway only to find it again the next day at the foot of his bed. He is found in the woods completely insane and screamin about terrible crust.

This pie has powers.

Gerald Rayburn finds the pie on his windowsill on June 18, 1973. He runs screamin outta his house, jumps on a plane, flies to Costa Rica, pays an underground plastic surgeon to reconstruct him to resemble a yellow stripe-tailed finch and travels to Nepal by UPS to hide in a lost temple of forgotten monks. The next day he is devoured by a herd of rabid elephants in his bathtub.

There is no escape from the pie.

In the thirteenth century A.D., astrologers an seers an sybils at the court of the great khan warn of terrible omens in the sky - terrible pie omens. The khan orders all pies burned within the kingdom and five thousand men to stand guard outside his palace walls to destroy all incoming pies. The gates are sealed with iron an bronze an dragon bones an the khan laughs at the pie and goes to sleep. He wakes up in the middle a the night hearin a terrible thumpin sound. It's comin from the kitchen. He calls for one a the guards but nobody answers. The thumpin's gettin louder. He gets up an looks around the corner. There's somethin sittin on his kitchen table. Somethin in a white pie box.

Beware of this pie.


posted by fafnir at 4:49 PM
Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Last week, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General Richard B. Myers, in a statement opposing the release of videotapes and photographs of torture at Abu Ghraib, said that the information should not be released for the purposes of national security. The release of such images, Myers said, could damage the war effort by instigating "riots, violence and attacks by insurgents."

Indeed, the Medium Lobster could not agree more: while some in the petty name of "truth," "accountability" and "basic humanity" might want to open this material to the world, outrage over yet another American atrocity would just fuel more violence. Oh, ACLU, don't you have enough blood on your hands? Which is why the Medium Lobster also believes the time is long overdue to classify the Iraq War.

Given the number of riots, the amount of violence, and the attacks by insurgents that appear to have erupted since the dawn of the war, it's clear that something has to be done to stop news of the conflict from getting out to crazed terrorists, who, becoming so excitable about the prospect of American torture, might well become livid if they learned of the US's involvement in preventively invading a muslim country and killing thousands there in a massively botched occupation. Indeed, in retrospect it was a mistake to have been so public about the war to begin with. Perhaps the Pentagon could have let a couple bombers and tanks into the country at night periodically to bomb a palace or shell a neighborhood. If anyone noticed a few demolished buildings, or a few thousand dead people, one could always blame it on a some bad apples, sort of fraternity air raid hijinks.

In any case, what's done is done. The Medium Lobster recommends in the strongest possible terms that no mention be made ever again of the war, its disastrous progress, its inept and incompetent leadership, or the mystifying reasons for which it was launched, ever again - for the sake of national security.

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posted by the Medium Lobster at 7:17 PM

Giblets will never understand these Iraqis. You invade them, flatten their cities, lock up and torture their relatives and what thanks do you get? Either a lot of explosives or the lamest candy-and-flowers display Giblets has ever seen. Weak, Iraqis. Very weak.

Well Giblets can end it all, and pretty damn fast. He has all he needs to end the war right now: an extra hundred thousand troops or so he intends to send to win the war. Where did he get them, you ask? Simple - for Giblets, at least. He got them with the power of imagination.

Yes, even now Giblets is searching his mighty mind for imaginary recruits and within one week expects to crush the insurgency with two thousand armored leprechauns, eight battalions of snuffalupagi, six divisions of heffalumps and the 101st Airborne Oozle Brigade! Guided by the unmatched tactical genius of Mr. Squigglesworth, Giblets's six-armed tap-dancing purple space squid and Secretary of Pretense, Operation: Wishful Thinking cannot fail! And if it does, Giblets will merely declare an Opposite Day. Losing IS winning in pretend!

Do you doubt the genius of Giblets? That is because you are made of stupid! Pretend troops are just what we need to fight for a pretend cause! Only Giblets's imaginary army will finally manage to locate Saddam's hidden stash of nukes buried deep within Fairyland! Only Giblets's fictional fighting men can spread democracy by discovering the long-lost Fountain of Freedom under Baghdad, whose magical waters turn everyone who drinks them into a fully-functioning republic! Only Giblets's dream draftees can end terror forever by assassinating the boogeyman! Everyone join hands and believe - or you stab our glorious playtime in the back! Onward, make-believe soldiers!


posted by Giblets at 6:17 PM
Monday, August 15, 2005

"Urgent!" says Giblets jumpin through the window past the wall an over the counter. "Activate Team Fafblog Super Action Auto Op!"
"Oh no!" says me. "What's goin on!"
"No time for that now it is just that urgent!" says Giblets. "We have to stop it right away!"
"Quick, to the Fafmofoil!" says me.
"Do we have a Fafmofoil!" says Giblets.
"No time for that now, urgent!" says me. And we leap into action!

An we're jumpin over roofs an speedin in boats an runnin over sidewalks an we run into a wall.
"Quick use the door!" says me.
"No time for doors!" says Giblets. "It's too urgent! We have to go straight through!"
We bump into the wall for a while. It's a tricky wall.
"Nnnf!" says Giblets. "Stupid wall, why are you so solid!"
"It's takin too long! We have to go over the wall!" says me.
We jump for a while. Then we try some climbin, then we try some fallin down.
"Oh this wall is useless!" says Giblets. "Uselessly tall!"
"Maybe we should get a rope a rope or somethin," says me. "I think we got one back in the house."
"No time, so urgent!" says Giblets.
"Quick, over there!" says me. We run over to a rock an climb over that. Then we jump over a leaf an beat a bug in single combat!

An we're chasin cars an swingin on ropes an steppin on crocodiles an we see an ad for the movies.
"Gaaah! The movies!" says Giblets.
"The movies are very urgent!" says me.
We run through the mall up the escalator past the ticket guy vault over the popcorn machine rappel down the theater an dive into a nice middle row with a clear view.
"Gaaah! Commercials!" says Giblets.
"Commercials are not urgent at all!" says me.
We jump outta our seats somersault up the aisle ricochet off the concession stand swing on our grapplin hooks into the lobby to request a ticket refund from the ticket guy. The request is denied.
"Sir we would lodge a complaint with your manager," says me.
"If it weren't so urgent!" says Giblets.
"Gaaah!" says us. "Urgent!"

We're sittin on a park pench eatin ice cream.
"Good ice cream," says me.
"Mmm yes," says Giblets. "Delicious sprinkles."
"I really wanted to get a dip cone," says me. "But they were all outta dip cones."
"Those go fast," says Giblets.
"What were we talkin bout before?" says me.
"I forgot," says Giblets.
We sit there thinkin. A bird lands on the bench.
"Gaaah!" says me. "Urgent!"

After a while we're pretty tired an we call Chris an have im pick us up.
"A job well done," says Giblets.
"Very true," says me. "Do you think they'll ever know how close we came today."
"They will never understand the sacrifices we make!" says Giblets. "The urgent last-minute sacrifices!"
"But at last we can sleep peacefully knowin the world is safe," says me.
"Wait," says Giblets. "Was that the Gibsignal?"
"Maybe," says me. "Do we have a Gibsignal?"
"No time for that now, urgent!" says Giblets. And we leap into action!


posted by fafnir at 6:22 PM
Thursday, August 11, 2005

Well it looks like everybody's tryin to figure out what John Roberts believes about stuff before they vote for him, which I think is just wrong. This whole nomination thing would be a lot easier if we just stopped askin judges about what they'll do with the vast power we're about to give em and focus on the stuff that matters: Are they nice judges? Are mean judges? Are their children adorable little scamps or perfect little angels? Did they come from an inspirational poor minority background or from an upstanding upper-class white family? What's their favorite color? These are important things to know.

This doesn't mean we can't be tough with our judicial nominees. I think the Judiciary Committee should grade Judge Roberts on a strict hundred-point rubric: twenty-five points for personality, fifteen points for talent, ten points for poise, thirty points for the swimsuit competition, and twenty points for the interview portion, where they should make sure to grill him with tough questions like "If you were a tree how would you use your one wish to save hungry children in our endangered wetlands." Some people are gonna say that's way too much for the interview but I believe in bein tough but fair.


posted by fafnir at 5:58 PM

"Beep beep," says the bin Laden detector. "B-beep. Beep."
"Be very quiet," says Giblets. "The bin Laden detector says we are getting close."
"I'm startin to feel kinda skeptical about the bin Laden detector," says me.
"You talk crazy talk," says Giblets.
"B-b-beep!" says the bin Laden detector. "Beep beep! B-b-beep!"
"Yes, victory!" says Giblets pullin up an old coke can outta the sand. "The beast is captured! The long hunt is over! Triumph, Giblets, etc."
"I dunno," says me. "In the pictures he looks bigger an more bearded an less recyclable."
"That's because he's a master of disguise," says Giblets. "After a couple hours in some 'stress positions' this coke can of hate will tell Giblets everything!"
"Oh look," says me. "A buffalo nickel!"
"B-b-beep," says the bin Laden detector. "Beep. B-b-beeeeep."


posted by fafnir at 3:58 PM
Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Yknow we been hearin a lot lately about how Intelligent Design's not real science. Well that's just crazy talk! Ever since we got scientific evidence of the existence of God everybody down at the Faflab has been buildin off this cuttin edge field to come up with latest scientological developments.

By observing the mating of Galapagos finches with high-precision godometers, Designmatologists have discovered the existence of the Godtrino - the subatomic particle that God is made of! Theoretical Godmologists have believed that evolution was caused by the presence of Godtrinos for years but this is our first concrete proof. And think of the practical applications once we manage to harness the power of mass Godtrino production! Turnin water into wine, smiting, more smiting, Gomorrorah burning, Jesus resuscitation. The possibilities are endless!

Intelligent Design has lead to the discovery of several exciting new species like gene fairies, DNA demons, and evolution angels! Intelligent Designologicologists carefully tag and release these specimens to study their migratory patterns as they travel from earth to heaven to alter our genetic code according to God's precise instructions.

We also keep em in our brand new family adventure park, Wild Angel Jungle Safari! Feed the cherubim in our heavenly petting zoo, watch the four o' clock angel-an-walrus watershow spectacular, an buy some seraphim jerky at the gift shop! In conjunction with Faflabs, Gibco is proud to introduce the Angel Gun. What better way to show your appreciation of these beautiful an fascinatin creatures than by shootin a cherub an stickin it in a pickle jar on your coffee table!

Now we know God exists, it's time for deep space God exploration! Intelligent Designostronomers have located him in orbit around the moon and believe the first Godstonauts could make a manned God landing as early as 2012. God's surface is rich in deposits of wine and communion wafers which could support the beginnings of a God colony, where advanced mining techniques could extract the omnipotence America could use to supply its energy needs for the next coupla years! The sky's the limit! Til we hit God. Then God's the limit.

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posted by fafnir at 5:50 PM

1. Wake up
2. Brush teeth
3. Watch sunrise
   - Is the sun rising?
       - No!
            Quick, run out an inflate the sun!
       - Too many clouds!
            Blow em away with the bellows an the ceiling fan! Hurry up this is important.
       - Why yes it is.
            Check again tomorrow - you can never trust that stupid ol sun.
4. Brush more teeth
5. Feed octopus
   - Octopus food
       - Gum, pizza, tape, email, collectible coins, old reruns.
6. Go to work
   - Welcome to the company me! I am your boss Mister You.
   - Reorganize!
       - The boss is demoted! The soup is promoted! The coke machine is the boss! The boss is the soup! Everybody wins!
   - You can't fire me I quit hooraaaaaay!
7. Brush teeth again
8. The sasquatch
   - How is the sasquatch?
       - The sasquatch is angry!
            Draw up a peaceful agreement with the sasquatch usin a series a carrots an sticks.
       - The sasquatch is sad.
            Take the sasquatch to the zoo.
9. Return teeth to owners; they should be clean by now
   - Find more teeth to brush
10. Carefully lower sun into ocean
   - Look out! Lotsa steam.
11. Wake up, repeat


posted by fafnir at 9:20 AM
Tuesday, August 9, 2005

Your children are gay, you have always known it! But how can you prove it for sure? Behold Giblets's Guide to Proving Your Son Is Gay! These are can't-fail tests that should have you diagnosing deviant offspring as early as age 5. There's no use bothering with your daughter; she's stuck as a girl as it is.

  • Casually ask your son at dinner, "So, ever have sex with a woman?" If he appears uncomfortable, he's gay. Non-gays like sex with women.

  • Place two photographs in front of your son lying face down. On the left place a photograph of Tom Welling, TV's gay Superman; on the right place the stern but genial visage of James Dobson. Flip them over simultaneously. Which does your son look at first? If he looks at Tom Welling, he is gay. If he looks at James Dobson, he is gay with an unnatural fixation for James Dobson.

  • Tell your son you are going outside to play ball and wrestle alligators. Then shove your son to the ground repeatedly and say, "Whassamatta, crybaby? Gonna cry? Gonna cry?" If he cries he is a great big pussy and therefore gay. If he "takes it like a man" he's still gay, but one of those butch tough-guy gays, like a "bear" or a "top."

  • Dunk your son into a deep pool of water. If he floats to the top, he is full of buoyant gaymotrons (identified by physicists as the gay particle) and therefore gay. If he sinks to the bottom and drowns, he is a poor swimmer and unathletic and therefore gay. If he begins to sink and then just sorta hangs there, the water is gay.

  • Starve a large wolf cub for two days and have it wrestle your son. If he loses to the wolf, he's gay - it was only a wolf cub! If he beats the wolf, he is a lesbian. If he is beaten mercilessly by the wolf while apologizing for its economic agenda, he is a Log Cabin Republican. If he is bitten by the wolf, he is now a werewolf. Shoot him with a silver bullet before the rising of the next full moon.


  • posted by Giblets at 8:42 AM
    Monday, August 8, 2005

    Now he belongs to the ages.


    posted by fafnir at 2:19 AM
    Thursday, August 4, 2005

    Once upon a time there was a Fafnir who was walkin through the woods when he came across the lion the ferocious an terrible king a the jungle. "Oh you stay away from me lion," said Fafnir, "cause I don't want you to eat me." "I will not harm you little Fafnir," said the lion, "but only if you remove the thorn from my paw which hurts so terribly." And so Fafnir removed the thorn and the lion was grateful.

    The next week Fafnir was captured by the Romans an thrown into a lion pit an who should be in the lion pit but the very same lion, what a coincidence! "Oh lion you keep away, you said you would not eat me," said Fafnir. "I will not harm you this time either little Fafnir," said the lion, "if only you will help spread this antifungal cream on my toes, I have some kind of infection now." And so Fafnir helped spread the antifungal cream which was very gross.

    Tuesday Fafnir came across the lion on his living room couch. "Hey," said the lion. "How'd you get in here?" said Fafnir. "Oh, I found the key under the mat," said the lion. "And I will not harm you if only you make another trip to the store, we're totally outta nachos." And so Fafnir called Animal Control an the lion was shot with tranquilizer darts an dragged away to the zoo.

    The Moral of Our Story: Lions are annoying.


    posted by fafnir at 4:07 PM

    All of us love freedom, and all of us want to protect freedom, and surely to protect freedom it was necessary to tie Abed Hamed Mowhoush in a sleeping bag and an electrical cord, and surely to secure our basic liberties it was essential to beat him with a club and a length of rubber hose, and certainly it was vital to the preservation of our way of life to bludgeon him to death over a period of days in an interrogation room, just as it is critical to keep these and other methods of torture legal at all costs. But why, if the deed was just - and it can't not have been just - did the Army and the CIA cover up the murder, classify the autopsy, put out a whitewashed account for the press? Why do they continue to deny to this day what we know to be true, what the president's actions defend as the truth: that torture is the official policy of the United States? Is it some foul act of self-sabotage or some perverse modesty that causes the Pentagon, the CIA and the White House to cravenly hide behind their underlings instead of triumphantly claiming the 2005 Golden Mengele for themselves? Whatever the explanation, George Bush and his administration are shortchanging themselves and the millions of Americans who deserve to know exactly how these men have been proudly protecting and defending their values. Don't be shy, gentlemen, Mr. Secretary, Mr. President. These corpses are all yours.


    posted by the Medium Lobster at 12:18 PM
    Wednesday, August 3, 2005

    Chris is sick! Can Emergency Medical Fafblog save the day in time?

    "Amputation!" says Giblets grabbin the emergency medical spork. "The arm has to go!"
    "Amputation's too risky, we still have the Herbal Treatment!" says me hittin Chris with the pineapple.
    "The pineapple is powerless!" says Giblets. "And the arm totally has to go, it keeps hittin me when I try to amputate it!"
    "Don't underestimate the pineapple, it symbolizes stuff of great spiritual symbolism!" says me. "Like other pineapples."
    "It's spreading, it's spreading!" says Giblets. "Look, there are two arms now - and legs, too! Oh the humanity."
    "There's still a chance, pass me the ham!" says me. I start ladling on the honey marinade, there's still a chance for last-minute deliciousness.
    "It's too late, we'll never remove the torso in time!" says Giblets. "Get the torches, it is time for the Viking funeral!"
    "Now Chris don't you start up about the torches," says me. "It's what you woulda wanted."
    "Finally he will have a warrior's death!" says Giblets. "Which will allow him to cleverly sneak into warrior heaven."
    "Last time we tried the Viking funeral we couldn't find torches, so we hadda use the hibachi," says me.
    "The Viking went to barbecue heaven, where he was eaten over the weekend and thrown out with a sack a grilled corn cobs," says Giblets.
    "But he died the death a warrior corn, fightin all the way," says me.
    "And his soul was processed into the highest-fructose corn syrup the gods of Valhalla allow," says Giblets. "And then sold to a number of major soft drink distrubutors."
    "He still haunts the remains a Coke cans everywhere," says me. "They say on a windy winter night if you listen real close you can hear him howlin for vengeance over a bottle a Sprite."
    "A refreshing bottle of Sprite," says Giblets. "Just the thing we need after a hard day's work at Emergency Medical Fafblog!"
    "Weeeeeeooooooeeeeeeeooooooo!" says the pineapple. "Weeeeeeooooooeeeeeoooo!"


    posted by fafnir at 1:20 PM

    Sometimes I just can't stop worryin about the Democratic Party an its terrible internal divisions an stuff. On the one side you got your centrist DLC-types with their balanced budgets an their lax gun control regulation an their health care plans an their reverence for Bill Clinton, and on the other side you got your hard-core lefty Howard Dean types with their balanced budgets an their lax gun control regulation an their health care plans an their reverence for Bill Clinton. If only there was some kinda way to bridge this vast an terrible ideological gap!


    posted by fafnir at 9:22 AM
    Tuesday, August 2, 2005

    Well Giblets got stuck riding the bus again today, which means Giblets got stuck with the cancer people. "Ohhhhh the cancer," say the cancer people. "Ohhhh the pain." Giblets just has one question for the cancer people: are you dying of cancer, or are you living in sin! If Giblets has said it once, he's said it a hundred times: cancer drugs cause promiscuity. When people get cancer they die, and when people die they can't have sex. If you treat people with cancer they might not die, which means they will have more sex, even sex with girls, which as Paul's Epistle to the Bullshintians points out just spreads the Cooties Of Transgression! Do you realize even minors can get treated for cancer these days? Oh, the horror, oh the disgrace of a fallen society, determined to turn our children into little cancer sluts! "Who can save them Giblets," you say. Only Giblets can - but only if he chooses to. By running for President. DONATE TO THE GIBLETS FOR PRESIDENT FUND! DONATE TO THE GIBLETS FOR PRESIDENT FUND NOOOOOOOW!

    UPDATE!UPDATE/COW! Gary Farber has more here with useless luxuries like "accuracy." Giblets has no time for this, he flows in the electric consciousness! Also, a picture of a mighty cow. Do not test it! You are unprepared for its mightiness.
    posted by Giblets at 3:22 PM

    Attention Mr. President:

    Giblets has news - SCIENCE news! - that will shake you to the very core of your being, that will render you a gibbering lump of stammering flab with the power of revelatory truth!

    Last week Giblets was reclining on the grassy banks of an elysian river when he made an alarming scientific discovery: clouds aren't shaped like clouds, they're shaped like stuff. Look! That one looks like a moose, that one's a monkey, and that one is exactly the spitting and glorious image of Giblets rendered in living cloudflesh! "I dunno," says Fafnir. "That cloud looks like a cloud." Amazing, what are the odds! Conventional meteorology is useless in the face of these amazing stuffological anomalies. The only explanation that makes ANY SENSE AT ALL is that these clouds were designed - INTELLIGENTLY designed - by some intelligent cloud-shaper in the sky!

    "Giblets you have blown my puny mind!" you say. Yes yes Giblets's revelations shock you to your presidential core, but there's MORE!

    The other day Giblets was looking for his glasses but he could not find them anywhere! After hours of searching Giblets was about to give up when he found them on top of his very head. How did they get there? It is an unsolved mystery which science is powerless to solve! The only rational explanation: these glasses were intelligently designed on my head by an intelligent designer with vast and unfathomable powers! "You don't have glasses," says Fafnir. Even more incredible - they are glasses ex nihilo!

    Possibly related: an intelligent coin-designer may have secretly hidden seventy-three cents in the cushions of Giblets's couch.

    "Giblets you have shattered my reasoned and ordered worldview into a thousand splintering pieces with your hammer of unyielding truth!" says you. Silence you have only heard the tip of the iceberg! What comes next is the most important scientific discovery in the history of history.

    Just yesterday Giblets was strolling through the woods and screaming at animals - what are they doing in Giblets's woods! - when Giblets just happened to accidentally step on an eagle. Giblets couldn't throw it out because there were no eagle recycling centers around; Giblets couldn't dump it on the ground because it would leave unsightly eagle stains all over his woods. But just a few feet away was a lake, so Giblets just threw the big ol' bird in there and it sank straight to the bottom, no muss no fuss.

    Now, here's the question: how did the lake know Giblets needed to throw out a dead eagle?

    The only answer: it was designed. Intelligently designed to be near Giblets when he stepped on an eagle. Giblets stepped on several cats on the way home to further confirm this hypothesis. Giblets has repeated this experiment many times with reproducible results.

    What is obviously needed is a massive overhaul of the national education system to make sure children are taught the existence of intelligent designers in school, overseen by Giblets. To think they could go ignorant of the origin of bunny-shaped cirrus formations when the evidence around them is overwhelming! Look at this box and this soup and this inkblot! Look, you just just make out a beard! Everywhere, everywhere!


    posted by Giblets at 1:22 PM

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