|
Saturday, February 26, 2005
So Bob Herbert is sobbing on and on about this Maher Arar guy in Canada who got “kidnapped” by the “FBI” and “deported to Syria” to be “beaten and tortured for months.” And Giblets is goin’, so what? If John Ashcroft says he’s a terrorist that’s good enough for Giblets. And then Herbert says that Arar is free – free and on the loose in Canada, mere hours from Giblets’s home!
Iraq was thousands of miles away, with just one terrorist cell out of Saddam Hussein’s control. But Canada is right on top of us, and has personally harbored this Muslim menace. No one can doubt that Canada is on the wrong side of history – the side that is personally trying to destroy Giblets with hordes of bilingual agents of terror! Giblets saw a Canadian at the mall today. He said “Nice day for it, eh?” Nice day for what? For your secret terrorist plots?! For your Islamist beheadings?! What is this “eh” business – he was speaking in code, in feverish Muslim “chatter” to Giblets! Giblets does not know your “frequency,” Saskatchewan Salafis! He will never yield to the mad zealotry of your maple leaf caliphate! If Canada won’t hand over Maher Arar and his fellow eerily-polite, hockey-loving enemies of freedom, then there is only one possible response: massive, bloody, bowel-wrenching, weeks-of-CNN-spanning war followed by years of increasingly violent and dismal occupation. It shall be glorious! Last week Giblets had maple syrup on a pancake. Maple syrup. Why did no one tell Giblets! His innards are corrupted forever. It may be too late to save the purity of Giblets’s beautiful guts. But it is not too late to save America and its greater Gibletsian heritage! North to war – and to victory!
posted by Giblets at 2:20 PM
Friday, February 25, 2005
I’ve been holdin out on this for a while now but I feel I gotta respond to a number a recent allegations made by vocal commentator an box resident Ol Man Crazy. Mr. Crazy has made a lotta unsubstantiated claims about me lately an I asked him privately to retract em but he just throws a buncha ol soup cans at me instead.
First of all I have to strongly disagree with Mr. Crazy’s thesis that I helped Harry Truman an the moon men plant a homin device in his brain. For starters I have never met President Truman who died in 1972 about a decade or so before I was born nor is there any conclusive evidence to suggest that Mr. Truman ever had contact with moon men or any moon technology. If Ol Man Crazy had done his research he would have known this but instead he goes on with this unfounded an irresponsible speculation. Also I have to contest Mr. Crazy’s claim that I am the Mean Mad Marmalade Man come to steal his marmalade. I’m not familiar with a Mr. Marmalade Man or his attempts to harass Ol Man Crazy but as a member of the neighborhood watch group I certainly would like to help Mr. Crazy out with his situation. I would certainly never try to steal his marmalade. I didn’t even know Mr. Crazy owned or made a brand a marmalade but if I wanted some you can bet I would buy some from him at a reasonable price. And even though I didn’t want it to have to come to this I feel like I have to point out that Mr. Crazy has been misrepresentin himself. There’s no evidence at all to suggest he is the Grand Duchess of Pillsbury or in fact a duchess of any kind. Nor is his travelin companion Monsignor Cat an actual cat or a Roman Catholic ecclesiastical officer for that matter but instead appears to be a shoppin cart fulla duct tape. I wouldn’t go as far as to call this fraud or anythin but I feel like Mr. Crazy’s public has a right to know. Anyway I believe Mr. Crazy owes me an his listeners an apology.
posted by fafnir at 12:17 PM
"Nothing can kill me!" says the Pope standing high atop Vatican Tower. He is wrestling giant apes and fire-breathing lizards. He hurls Fay Wray at a swarm of useless biplanes as lightning bounces off his tiara and throws fire down upon the empires of men! He lustfully grabs fistfuls of grapes from the scurrying limbs of terrified slavegirls, throws back his wild shock of papal hair and laughs – laughs! – a laugh that could bring scorn to the very gods themselves!
"I am indestructible!" says the Pope. "There is no force on earth, nothing conceived of in the spheres of heaven or the pits of hell, that can defeat the mighty Pope!" Damn you Pope! Some day you will go too far, and Giblets will be waiting – waiting to lay down his vengeance upon you! Labels: popery
posted by Giblets at 11:11 AM
 There's somethin wrong here. There's somethin wrong with this pie.It looks delicious and smells delicious. Shouldn't that be enough? The crust is kinda strange and a little soft but you've tasted a lotta unorthodox recipes before that were pretty darn good and this one looks mouth-watering. Crisp lettuce, fresh tomato, melted cheese oozing over hot, juicy grilled beef. The kinda pie that makes you wanna dig right in. But somethin isn't right. There's somethin wrong with this pie. Is it undercooked? Overcooked? It doesn't seem burned. Maybe it's burned on the inside. But it doesn't smell burned. It smells delicious - delicious like a pie should smell. But somehow it doesn't smell quite right. Perhaps it is burned in a spiritual sense. Perhaps it has been burned by the soul. Maybe a priest could help - a pie priest. He would be able to help figure out what's wrong with this pie. Is there somethin wrong with this pie? There has to be. You can feel it somehow. This pie is not a right pie. Maybe it is a poison pie. Maybe it is a pie of death. No, that's crazy people talk! This pie was sent to you by the High Pie Council of Pies themselves and why would they want to kill you, they are delicious and made of pie! Delicious like this pie - like this strange, strange pie in front of you. You pick it up. The pie people run out with terrified looks on their faces and grab the pie away from you. They apologize and explain there's been a mix-up, this isn't your pie, it's all a misunderstandin. You feel a little relieved but a little disappointed. They bring out your pie and leave it on the table. It looks pretty good. You poke at it. It pokes back. Wait. There's somethin wrong with this pie. Labels: pie
posted by fafnir at 9:29 AM
Monday, February 21, 2005
Don't believe their filthy lies. Giblets saw the Good Doctor with his own two eyes just a few hours ago, heading north in the White Whale. He said he was headed up to heaven to shoot God. "The great bastard's in season and it's long overdue," the Godfather of Gonzo said as he dusted off his elephant gun. "I have full reason to believe they will award me both the head and the tail. Expect me back by the apocalypse." Good hunting, Doctor Thompson. You'll be missed.
Labels: rip
posted by Giblets at 2:27 AM
Saturday, February 19, 2005
Chris is pretty sick an we should probably do somethin about it. So me an Giblets break out our trusty ol Vatican exorcism trainin an get to work!
"Where's the drugs Satan!" says Giblets hittin Chris with the rosary. "We got your prints all over the weapon an your buddy's fessed up!" "Whoa I do not think I can control my crazy partner here," says me who's bein the "Good Exorcist." "Better give Giblets what he wants Satan an stop possessin our friend." Chris just starts makin "please i need my medicine" noises. Bad Chris! That's just what the demon wants. "Now demon I cast you into this herd a pigs," says me. "That's not a herd a pigs, that's a can a ham!" says Giblets. "It's Plumrose brand ham which I find to be a fine product suitable for many occasions an I don't see why the devil should think otherwise," says me. "He's a duke of the nether-hells! What could he want with the ham of mortals!" says Giblets. "Are we supposed to put somethin in his mouth to keep him from swallowin his tongue or somethin?" says me. "Mmmf," says Giblets fulla ham. This could take a while. Labels: godmotology
posted by fafnir at 9:33 PM
Thursday, February 17, 2005
There's an explosion in the garage. We don't know how long it's been in there but we check on it once in a while. "Is it gettin any bigger?" says me. "Dunno," says Giblets. "I been feedin it but it I dunno if it likes this stuff." Giblets picks up an apple an tosses it in. The explosion fills the room with the crunchy-sweet aroma of fresh cider.
I invite the explosion in for tea. "So," says me. "What do you do. What are your prospects." The explosion spits sparks an carbon monoxide. "Giblets is bored," says Giblets. "Giblets show some respect for our guest," says me. I offer the explosion a cookie. It makes burnin noises. "Indeed," says me. The tea is delicious. "The tea is stupid!" says Giblets. Giblets is so negative. I'm goin out to talk about pies at the pie symposium an I leave the explosion in charge a waterin the plants. "Giblets can take care a stuff by himself," says Giblets. "Giblets you are prejudiced against the explosion," says me. "All because it is different." "Yes," says Giblets. At the symposium I hear lots of excitin new developments in the field of pie that challenge my previous pie assumptions. When I get back Giblets is sittin outside the house lookin angry. The house is all full of explosions. "Giblets has been thrown out of his house," says Giblets. "By your runaway combustion friend!" I didn't tell it it could invite other explosions over for some kinda explosion party. It's time to lay down the law! I march in there up to the big explosion in the livin room and tell him that as long as it's under my roof mister it's gonna live under my rules such as for instance. The explosion responds with bursts of smoke an hostile body language an I run out the door. "Aw man," says me. "Now we gotta move again." "This makes the fifth time!" says Giblets. "It won't trick us next time," says me. "Next time we'll make sure it's a safe explosion before we give it tea and cookies." "Excellent," says Giblets. "And then we can sic it on these other explosions. Man are they gonna pay!"
posted by fafnir at 5:02 PM
Treason: it’s all the rage these days! From treasonous news executives to treasonous former Presidents everybody’s doin it. In fact you may be a traitor and not even know it! “That is silly Fafnir I could never betray America I love it an eat twelve flags a day” says you. Well a lotta traitors start off not even tryin to be traitors, it is just that easy to do! Treason isn't just providin aid an comfort to the enemy. It's providin not-aid an discomfort to America. Treason is hurting America's feelings.
Now you may think "oh well Fafnir America's a big country it can take care a itself" but in fact it is very sensitive. When you say its mom's ugly or criticize its foreign policy or kick sand on its face at the beach it is just as hurt as if you'd sold its state secrets. Like every emotional young superpower America needs love and care from its citizens. We've put together a brief guide to treason so you can understand it a little better. Q: Which of the following is treason? 1. Not wishing the President a happy birthday even when he is clearly wearing a party hat and a "Kiss The Birthday Boy" shirt 2. Questioning the progress, purpose, or justification of the Iraq war 3. Providing material aid to a hostile enemy of the United States 4. Telling America "Hey America yo mama's so fat by the time she bends over it's Daylight Savings Time." Answer: All of them are treason but number four is the worst treason of all on account of America is real sensitive about the fatness of its mama. Q: I'm at a formal dinner party when the President shows up half-naked and stinking of rum. Can I tell him he is inappropriately attired without committing treason? A: No. By embarassing the Commander-in-Chief you're providing aid and comfort to our enemies such as Osama bin Laden and Al Franken. Q: What if it's the Vice-President in a muu-muu reeking of ether? A: No. By embarassing the Vice-President you are a heartbeat away from providing aid and comfort to our enemies. Q: What about the President Pro Tempore of the Senate? Nobody cares about the stupid ol President Pro Tempore of the Senate. A: No, that's three heartbeats away from treason which is still dangerously naughty. Q: The Secretary of Agriculture naked and smeared in monkey dung? A: No. By embarassing the Secretary of Agriculture you are providing aid and comfort to the enemies of agriculture, like potato blight and Dutch Elm disease. Are you on the side of Dutch Elm disease? Q: Assistant to the postmaster general wearing a suit of old condoms and whale blubber? A: Now you're being silly. Where would the assistant to the postmaster general get a hold of whale blubber? Q: Oh no, I've accidentally committed treason! What do I do! A: Don't worry there is still time to make up for it! America's very forgiving an there's always another second chance to cheer up your country after you've gotten it down. Here's a few examples: Now you're ready to go out there and respect your country's boundaries and feelings! Punishment may otherwise include fines of at least ten thousand dollars, emprisonment of at least five years, and the death penalty.
posted by fafnir at 2:12 PM
Monday, February 14, 2005
"Giblets is the enemy of love!" says Giblets with his anti-love arsenal. "He will hunt it and kill it and mount its head upon his wall!"
"I dunno Giblets," says me. "I'm thinkin maybe this doesn't have as much to do with love as it's got to do with you gettin dumped again by Noodles." "She will come crawling back to Giblets!" says Giblets. "She will come crawling back to Giblets NOOOOW!" "There's plenty a women in the sea," says me. "Like mermaids an naiads an squidladies." "Keep your half-octopus females to yourself!" says Giblets. "All they wanna do is digest Giblets and turn him into ink." "A good woman is like a fine cheese," says me. "Or a large hat. Or an aggrieved sasquatch. Or an elephant made outta trees an ropes an lotsa smaller elephants." "Giblets never wants to see another elephant again!" says Giblets. "He is done with them and their cheating hearts! He is burning all pianos!" "But you love the elephants," says me. "You can't live with em an you can't live without em." "Cause they tear out your liver an brains an replace em with the fungal herbs of the undead," says Giblets. "Women like zombies on accounta their drive," says me. "Zombies keep their eyes on the prize an the prize is eatin brains." "Yes very goal-oriented," says Giblets. "But what of the robots! With their laser-mounted death beams an their single-track extermination programming they sweep the ladies off their feet!" "In the battle a robots an zombies everybody loses," says me. "That's why all sides have to work together to end the robot-zombie arms race." "You talk madness, we need the robots to keep the zombies at bay!" says Giblets. "There's no goin back once the robot-zombie genie's outta the bottle!" "That kinda thinkin won't protect us from zombies or robots," says me. "It'll only lead to mutually assured zombification." "That's just a price we'll have to pay to win the war," says Giblets. "The war of love," says me. Labels: jollity
posted by fafnir at 11:19 AM
Sunday, February 13, 2005
The past week or so has seen the blogborne destruction of Eason Jordan, Ward Churchill, and Jeff Gannon for a multitude of transgressions ranging from stupidity to shirtlessness. Well done my bloggy minions! Their heads adorn the walls of Castle Internet along with such other enemies of justice as Trent Lott, Dan Rather, and that fat kid who danced around in that Star Wars video.
Supreme High Blogarch Giblets directs you to this week's List of the Damned. Each of the following have commited unpardonable sins, crimes against bloganity! Giblets demands the ashen ruins of their professional and personal lives delivered to him by Friday! *So-Called Lefto-Conservative Main Media Stream Media Media
posted by Giblets at 10:34 PM
He rides across the desert with a six-shooter in one hand an a federal construction contract in the other. It's the last a the wild cowboy Homeland Security fence-builders himself: Homeland Joe.
Homeland Jooooooe! Homeland Jooooooe! Riding across the dusty plains Where no one dares to go! Homeland Jooooooe! Homeland Jooooooe! Checking your passport photo Where the wild Injuns roam! Homeland Jooooooe! "It's a mad lawless thing, buildin' mad lawless fences in a mad lawless world," says Homeland Joe. "But somebody's gotta do it." An then he wrestles a buffalo. But there's dangers on the fence-buildin range. After a day of fightin Indians an cattle rustlers, that's when the endangered condors swoop down an carry off the construction workers in their terrible terrible claws! "Every day I lose fifty good men to them critters," says Homeland Joe ropin up some stray cattle. "Why don't you fight back an shoot em Joe!" says me. "'Cause some durn fool down in Washington made it illegal!" says Joe an there is a terrible fire in his eyes. "Oh no!" says me. "But Joe can't you pass a law to make you able to break the law?" "I would if'n I could," says Homeland Joe lassoin a cactus. "Then I coulda hired me some illegal immigrants for six cents an hour an finished this fence months ago. But some judge woulda called it 'unconstitutional'!" Then we're attacked by bloodthirsty pandas! Homeland Jooooooe! Homeland Jooooooe! Tied down by Lilliputian laws That we can never know! Homeland Jooooooe! Homeland Jooooooe! If he employs a team a' six year olds Freedom will surely flow! Homeland Jooooooe! Homeland Joe rides the dusty trails lookin to fence in illegal immigrants. But when we find em they're all bein smuggled into the country by the Rehnquist Gang! "You hold it right there now, John Paul Stevens," says Homeland Joe. "You jus' put down that family a' terrorist Mexicans real slow-like." "I reckon you ain't gonna, lawman," says Ruth Bader Ginsberg. "Anythin' you do to us we're gonna rule it unconstitutional!" "You gotta shoot em Joe!" says me. "I can't," says Joe hangin his mighty head in shame. "Murder's still against the law." "If only there was some kinda way to make a law immune to other laws and to the legal system at the same time," says me. "Maybe they is, an' maybe they ain't," says ol man Rehnquist ridin off on his black horse. "But y'all're too yella to try!" Joe is helpless to stop the Mexicans an they all grow up to be Osama bin Laden. Homeland Jooooooe! Homeland Jooooooe! He's all that stands between us And the hordes of Mexico! Homeland Jooooooe! Homeland Jooooooe! Let him kill some people, He won't get anyone you know! Homeland Jooooooe! "All I'm askin' for is the power to to waive all laws," says Homeland Joe spittin out a big chunk a tobacco. "So I can build a big fence across the Mexican border an' establish a system a' National ID cards." "Whew," says me. "For a second there I thought it was gonna be for somethin crazy!" "But them fancy-pants bureacrats down in Washington," says Homeland Joe, roastin a herd a cows over a barbecue spit, "hell, all they care 'bout is rules 'n regulations, like 'labor rules' an' 'not poisoning people' an' 'the rule of law'." "Maybe it'll happen someday," says me. "Maybe," says Homeland Joe tippin his hat an turnin his horse towards the sunset. Soldier on, good hero! Soldier on.
posted by fafnir at 11:13 AM
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Once a week the mailman drops off a dead kitten at our house. I'm not sure why. We just keep gettin these kittens. I think I signed somethin down at the mall once, maybe a Kitten of the Week Club or somethin, but I don't remember when. I sign a lotta stuff. Last time I went downtown I ended up with a Sam's Club membership, a petition to Bong the Bomb, and an ordained priesthood of Zemu. The leafletting campaigns an the Zemusian wedding ceremonies are a real pain but it's worth it to get quality beef tallow at wholesale prices.
I don't know why all the kittens are dead kittens. Maybe they haven't been shippin em right. But it seems like a shame to let em go to waste, so these days we got kittens everywhere - kitten doorstops, kitten lampshades, kitten tables, kitten soup, kitten pie, grilled kitten pizza. "More kitten, Giblets?" "Giblets is stuffed," says Giblets. "Giblets couldn't eat another kitten if he wanted to - and he wants to! They are delicious!" Which is too bad, cause we got a ton of em left.
posted by fafnir at 5:27 PM
"Giblets is hungry," says Giblets. "What do we have to eat?"
"I have a desert island survival pack," says me. "But all it's got is the Bible, Shakespeare, my favorite album, and the historical personage of my choice." "Is it Jesus or Lincoln?" says Giblets. "Just Lincoln," says me. "But he's pretty fresh an comes with a spare hat." "Useless! There's no meat on Lincoln!" says Giblets. "We could grill and eat Jesus for a week and he'd still be an awesome drunk at parties!" "We should explore the rest a the island for resources," says me. "Like we should try checkin at the top a the palm tree." "Giblets doesn't trust the palm tree," says Giblets. "It may conceal cannibal natives hungry for Fafnirs an Gibletses." "We're gonna be livin on this island for a while Giblets," says me. "We should try to live in peace with our fellow inhabitants." "Like the vicious coconut?" says Giblets. "It dropped from the sky an tried to crush us! There is only one law here, and it is the savage law of nature!" "We can't judge every coconut by the behavior of that one," says me. "Besides there's plenty a room on the island for all of us." "Cling to your crazy idealism but Giblets is a realist!" says Giblets. "We don't even know what's on the other side a the tree. There might be bugs or rocks or seagulls!" "Oh, now who's bein crazy," says me. "There's no such thing as seagulls. You want a piece a Bible or some Shakespeare?" "Gimme some Shakespeare," says Giblets. "Bible is too gamey."
posted by fafnir at 12:50 PM
Wednesday, February 9, 2005
The other day I was walkin down the street an I saw another one. He was practically freezin in the bitter cold; all he had was a tin cup, a three-piece suit, and a limousine with no minibar. He had a sign that said WILL CHEAT EMPLOYEES OUT OF RETIREMENT PLANS FOR FOOD. It was another homeless CEO.
"Any tax cuts, man?" he says to me. "I just need a little to catch a private plane to the Bahamas... it's so cold, man..." "Oh well I'm sorry I don't have any tax cuts on me right now" I says real quick while I'm walkin away. Course it was all lies. I had cuts to the capital gains tax, the estate tax an income tax right there in my wallet but I was just too greedy to give em to him. I just walked right by like he didn't exist. "Oh Fafnir he just woulda spent it all on yachts," says you. Maybe but who are we to judge? Rich people are trapped in a world with too many options and too many choices. Every day they wake to traumatic decisions. Do they eat the caviar, or frolic in the giant pile of gold? It's too much! Panic sets in. If only they had more money to help them sort things out. That's why stuff like the president's budget is so important right now. The president's workin on reducing the deficit by cutting funding for police and firefighters, veterans' benefits, child care, Medicaid, and food stamps while making his tax cuts permanent. This should finally take money back from the poor, who have so little money they don't know what to do with it, and give it to the rich, who have so much money and need so much more. But the government can't do everything itself. We have to personally give of ourselves to help those more fortunate than us. Now it's alright to give through your local church or charity but here at Fafblog we've set up somethin special. It's called Adopt-a-Baron, and it lets you pick one of the wealthiest two percent of Americans to help them out yourself. This is Little Davey. For just twenty dollars a day - the price of a table wine - you can buy Little Davey part of a new boat. Won't you help Little Davey and others like him? Somewhere out there is an old Time-Warner executive with only three houses. Make your commitment today. Labels: majestic equality
posted by fafnir at 3:58 PM
Yeah, it's true, I been writin for the National Review under the name "John Derbyshire" for the last twenty years. I can only blame the drugs.
posted by fafnir at 1:54 PM
So George Bush is talking about casting off "the baggage of bigotry." Giblets was furious! Bush campaigned on a clear pro-bigotry platform including a ban on gay marriage and an apparently sensible-yet-strict "containment policy" regarding lesbian maple farmers. But now Bush is reneging on bigotry, disenfranchisng all the bigots who voted for him in good conscience!
"Anti-bigotry" is too much like "pro-tolerance," and you know where tolerance gets you: hordes of gay men in SpongeBob suits raiding kindergartens to pervert the young and the Giblets! Dudes kissin' each other! Man on dog! Spock with a beard! Then someone told Giblets it was just Black History Month. Whew! Gays don't count this time around. But Giblets must still keep an eye on those shifty minorities to make sure they do not convert him to blackness. Labels: the rainbow peril
posted by Giblets at 10:37 AM
Tuesday, February 8, 2005
We get these a lot so here ya go.
1. Yes. 2. Yes. 3. Probably not, but who knows? Maybe in the future. 4. Definitely not. Giblets would hate the cake. 5. In the original story I'm asleep in my cave an Siegfried comes runnin up with his sword an stuff goin raaar an trips an falls an totally sprains his foot an I go you need help with that? an he's all no no I got it an I go cause I could call a doctor an he's all no that's all right I'll just call my girlfriend she can pick me up an I go sure all right an then he gets hit by a bus. Also in the original insteada bein a mighty dragon I am a 1973 AMC Gremlin. Wagner touches it up a bit. 6. Yeah, but why would we need a fish tank? I don't know where people get that idea. 7. Yes, that would be awesome! 8. Three random people on the east coast an some guy in Berkeley. 9. I know they don't look like much but if you put em on backwards an read it out over an over again they transport you to a maaaaaagical wonderland! This is not true. 10. It IS happening! He has his own pilot on NBC this fall called "Gibsquad"! She's a tough-talkin no-nonsense murder cop who's seen it all. He's a tiny despot who lays claim to the universe by dint of his own glory an resplendence! They laugh, they learn. 11. We are sorry for everything. Labels: blog ogg gog, things
posted by fafnir at 3:07 PM
posted by fafnir at 1:24 PM
Monday, February 7, 2005
Giblets is frustrated! Giblets is a kind and loving Giblets, even to old people who are foul and rank with the stench of imminent death, and wants to save Social Security. But Democrats oppose Giblets and his plan for Gibletizing Social Security at every turn!
Under Old Social Security, which Giblets has cleverly dubbed "Social Insecurity," your payroll taxes pay for the retirement of old people, and when you are old other people's payroll taxes pay for for you. This system is demographically flawed and will explode! But under Giblets's new plan, "Partial Gibletization," a portion of your payroll taxes go towards the funding of a kick-ass party for Giblets in a big mansion made of gold with a huge pool and a ton of hot naked chicks, which will stimulate the economy and encourage job growth! The rest of your taxes will go towards making a rocket ship that will launch old people into the sun. Giblets is confident his plan will save Social Security forever and supply him with an endless supply of lithe nubile women, the two most important components of any massive entitlement program. But instead of engaging in constructive debate, all Democrats have done is oppose Giblets's plan from the beginning! Well, Giblets doesn't see anyone else coming up with ideas here. Or at least, any ideas that answer the country's critical need for bouncing topless babes. Giblets has been plenty reasonable. Giblets would be willing to compromise on many critical details of his plan, including the size of the mansion, the purity of the gold, the ratio of Cristal to Evian in the pool, the quantity of jewels and sweetmeats in which Giblets is to be robed throughout the proceedings, the size of the crystal champagne-spouting Giblets statue to be displayed, and the number of naked chicks to be made available to ranking Democrats. But Giblets's bipartisan offerings are wasted upon them! Let there be total war!
posted by Giblets at 7:54 PM
There was nothing surprising about last week's confirmation of Alberto Gonzales except for the tepidness of those who opposed it. Indeed, it appears that there is greater support for a pro-torture attorney general in the United States Senate than there is for Social Security privatization. And why shouldn't there be? As an institution, Social Security has lasted for generations, while torture has been with us for millennia. The nation has weighed its brief anti-torture past and its pro-torture future and has chosen, and moved on. As a wise man or sociopath has recently said, "The debate is over... the issue is dying out.".
The debate is certainly over for John McCain, Congress's resident expert on torture. Some might call McCain a partisan hypocrite who has cheapened the memory of his five grueling years in a Viet Cong torture camp with a proxy vote for genital electrocution and glowstick rape. But these people entirely miss the point: John McCain's vote wasn't the moral resignation of a partisan hack, but a staunch, no-nonsense advocacy of the administration's torture policy based on his own experience. That is, John McCain has declared that torture is justifiable because his own torture was justifiable. The Viet Cong, after all, were fighting a new kind of enemy in a new kind of war, and John McCain was that enemy - and an enemy possibly possessing valuable information. Could he know when or where villages or cities were about to be bombed, information that could save hundreds, even thousands of lives? If so, who wouldn't agree to beat him repeatedly, deprive him of sleep, and tie his arms and legs into "stress positions" to find out? Who among us wouldn't torture John McCain to stop a ticking bomb? "But what of the Geneva Conventions?" you may ask. Ah, but the Viet Cong realized how obsolete these thirty-year-old treaties had become. This was a new enemy, one that disregarded such naive "laws of war" as the binary division between civilians and soldiers. In the strange new conflicts of the twentieth century, where guerilla warfare met carpet bombing, napalm, and free-fire zones, the Geneva Conventions seem charmingly quaint to one as enlightened as the Medium Lobster, as they must have to the bodhisattva who woke McCain up by beating him bloody every day, and as they must now to Senator McCain, who has yielded to the higher wisdom of Attorney General Alberto Gonzales. That John McCain was ultimately beaten, broken, abused, and violated for nothing is regrettable, but understandable... as regrettable and understandable as the old men and boys rounded up in villagewide sweeps on the way to Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo Bay. But to make an omelet, one must break eggs, and war, after all, is the biggest fucking omelet there is. We have a lot more eggs to break, and it's good to see the senator join the rest of us while the kitchen burns down.
posted by the Medium Lobster at 12:47 PM
 A filling comes across the sky. A sweet, gooey blueberry filling, surrounded by a flaky golden crust and a circular tin. Is it a bird? Of course not it is too delicious! Is it a plane? No it is too warm and oven-fresh. It's a pie! A pie of hope.Villagers and townspeople gather round. They look up with binoculars an telescopes. How far up is it? Can they get it from here? Somebody runs up with a stepladder an jumps! Somebody else climbs a tree. A buncha carpenters get to work on a scaffold. Skinny people start suckin on helium. Pole vaulters start showin up with really long sticks a wood. The fire department an the police department an the mayor cannot reach the pie. People jump real high. The governor shows up; he calls for the president. The president shows up; he delivers a stirrin speech about reachin the pie. People jump even higher! Scientists calculate the orbit a the pie an launch a probe to land on the pie. Photographs come back. The surface of the pie is tasty, they say. There is taste on the pie! Everyone is excited. The flyin machines are launched! Jets an biplanes an blimps an balloons fly out to reach the pie but it bobs an weaves an dodges into the clouds leavin em all behind. The people are tired of jumpin but they just can't stop! The rocket ships come, the pie cannot escape them, they reach the pie, it's the most fantastical day in the history a stuff! The pie is brought back but somethin's up. When they try to slice it the pie won't cut. The crust is made of metal. Oh no - it's not a pie of hope! It's a secret military pie aircraft and it is programmed to self-destruct on capture! From the terrible blueberry wreckage a small boy looks up. He is covered with fruit goo and bready crust but it does not matter. He wipes em from his eyes and turns to face the sky. He's lookin for another pie - a better pie, a real pie. Good luck and godspeed to you, pie boy. Good luck and godspeed. Labels: pie
posted by fafnir at 4:38 AM
Sunday, February 6, 2005
Football! The clash of titans! The battle of brobdingnagians! The war of newts! Helmeted warriors clatter and roar upon the gridiron, struggling and clawing for supremacy and dominance, plunging forwards towards victory as fat man crashes after fat man in the most dangerous game!
"Ooo, three yards," says Fafnir. Yeeeees, three glorious yards! That mighty conquest belongs to that fat man and that fat man alone, and when he is pounded into submission by bigger, fatter men he will be filled with the magnificence of the competitive spirit, the knowledge that that patch of astroturf belongs, for this moment, to him! He is lord of the spongy plasticky earth! "Whup, back four yards," says Fafnir. And the day belongs to the other fatties! For almost a full second and a half, their reign over that egg-shaped leather ball is supreme and uncontestable! They surge over those twelve feet like an ocean wave! Look at them go! What other game could offer such grand spectacle, such majestic thrill, such sheer piercing insight into the raging heart of man! Other than baseball! Or sumo! Or curling or golf! "We're runnin outta wings," says Fafnir. What excitement lies next in store in this contest of giants, this challenge of goliaths, this tournament of titans! The Pepsico-Raytheon halftime show and its salute to America's cheesemakers, that's what, along with a loving tribute to the boys who took the beaches of Grenada back in the Big Skirmish of '83. Truly they were the Adequate Generation. They fought for the great values of this country, as enshrined in this halftime show. Values like Pepsico and Raytheon - and football. And football! Labels: sport
posted by Giblets at 8:48 PM
Thursday, February 3, 2005
"To his memory," says me.
"His memory, hear hear!" says Giblets. "His great moral character!" says me. "I wouldn't call it 'great'," says Giblets. "Maybe 'mediocre' or 'petty'." "Okay then," says me. "His flossing technique! He was real good about dental hygiene." "I dunno if I'd say real good," says Giblets. "His suitable dental hygiene!" says me. "His adequate table manners!" says Giblets. "His clear penmanship!" says me. "I wouldn’t call it 'clear'," says Giblets. "Well then his legible penmanship," says me. "I wouldn’t call it 'legible,' says Giblets. "Well then the way he owned a pen," says me. "It wasn’t a real pen," says Giblets. "I hear it was a stunt pen." "Oh," says me. "Well. His quality of near-pen-havingness!" "Hear hear!" says Giblets. "The way he wore his hat," says me. "He never had a hat," says Giblets. "That's the way he wore it," says me. "I found the way he didn't wear his non-hat rather unimpressive," says Giblets. "Is that good or bad?" says me. "Giblets undemands it be de-stricken from the remembrance!" says Giblets. "Those shoes he used to wear," says me. "Those were pretty cool shoes," says Giblets. "Now they belong to the ages," says me. "But their memories live on," says Giblets. "They can't take that away from us," says me. "Yes they can," says Giblets. "With powerful suction cups." "Aw man," says me. "To our friend," says Giblets. "To Joe." "Who's Joe?" says me. "Giblets thought we were talkin about Joe," says Giblets. "From Burrito Joe's. The one who gives Giblets free burritos." "Well I was talkin about Chris," says me. "Well Giblets didn't know that," says Giblets. "Giblets takes it all back. Giblets sees Chris all the time an he doesn't give Giblets squat. Chris can suck it." "Well that's that," says me. "Now who wants pie!" Labels: true adventures
posted by fafnir at 8:19 PM
Whine, whine, whine. The “usual suspects” are all gripey about a Marine general who had the guts and the nerve to tell it like it is in front of the “PC” crowd: that it’s a bucket of laughs to kill people. According to Lieutenant General Mattis today:
"Actually it's quite fun to fight them, you know. It's a hell of a hoot," Mattis said, prompting laughter from some military members in the audience. "It's fun to shoot some people. I'll be right up there with you. I like brawling.A marine commandant defended Mattis saying he “intended to reflect the unfortunate and harsh realities of war.” Which is so true. And the unfortunate, harsh reality of war is that it’s a kick-ass video game with awesome graphics! Civilians are extra points.
posted by Giblets at 3:17 PM
The state of the internet is strong an feisty! It's bigger an better an quicker than ever an can skeletonize a buffalo in under sixteen seconds! But be careful: the internet can be dangerous. If the internet starts walkin up to you with its ears down makin growlin noises please back away from it slowly an find a grownup or a Communications Decency Act right away.
The internet has done so much in the last year! This year brought us the Blog Revolution, which wasn't that big but moved so fast it went from Blog Bastille Day to the Blog Reign of Terror to the Blog Buncha Ol Fat Guys Talkin About Blog Bastille Day in like a week! The internet has executed all mainstream television news personalities and replaced them with what the people really want to see: scrolling columns of text linking to other scrolling columns of text! But the internet's work isn't over. Now that the net has replaced the news it is time for it to replace reality! Old reality is borin an slow an analog. New reality will be faster an newer an have more spyware! When you go to work you will work with a handy comment board with lotsa helpful self-correcting tips an job advice like "why dont you work more" an "demoRATS love saddam" an "SHRUBYA = DUMBYA" an "Buy sex toys here!" When you go for a walk every building you see will have naked teenagers installed for your comfort, safety an convenience which you'll be able to see more of after a routine credit card check! Doors will be "hyperdoors." Roads will be "e-roads"! Not all of them will work an some of em will stop loading while you're in them an the places they take you to may have collapsed before you get there but they will make it faster an easier to buy crap than ever before! Just touch a poster or a billboard or a TV or some floating thing somebody made to look just like your TV an you're ready to go! Some of you are sayin "Oh but Fafnir what if I don't like gettin infected with adware at the supermarket, can I go back to regular reality." No you can't I am sorry it is gone. "Oh no!" says you. I didn't wanna have to bring this up but we are out of reality. We used it all up over the cast coupla decades an we've been paddin out what's left with pretend reality, but that will only get us so far. We have to turn everythin that's left into the internet. But that's just as well because internet reality is better than regular reality because the internet is more free! In an internet world you can make up any reality you want! If you don't like what's happening in one part of Internetland you can just hang out in another part where the news is totally different! History and science are very different in different parts of Internetland; settle in the one you like, or build your own. Be careful - different countries in Internetland are hostile to one another. Make sure yours is armed an protected. If you're feelin lonely there are pretend people everywhere on Internetland you can make friends with! If you're bored there's lots of pretend entertainment, like porn and preventive war! If you've got a crushing loss of purpose an self-worth, there's a ton a crap you can buy! It will be difficult to do but we will do it for the children, who can grow up in the freedom of a completely pretend universe. We will do it with the help of trusty pretend allies like television and the moon men and our pretend can-do spirit! The internet is becoming better and freer and newer every day and that freedom and newness will spread through the rest of the world like mayonaisse that's been left out a little too long. Thank you and God bless the internet!
posted by fafnir at 1:11 PM
Wednesday, February 2, 2005
The Bush administration has given White House media credentials to a guy with a GOP fan site who calls senators "divorced from reality" for thinking America has economic problems. Victory for the blogosphere! A triumph over the old "MSM"!
Before, journalism had to be all "mainstream" and "professional" and "unbiased" and "fact-based." But now that the blogosphere has broken through it can replace the crumbling facade of the old with the brighty-edge brightness of the new! Now Giblets can see the raw, unvarnished, spinless truth of a real citizen journalist reprinting White House press releases as news.
posted by Giblets at 2:47 PM
Giblets is hereby reviving what is by far this blog's most popular recurring series: the Pope Death Watch!
Oh sure, the Pope may be recovering from his recent illness, but it can't be long now before he kicks the papal bucket, and then Giblets will have his revenge! Even now there are signs of weakness. Just a couple days ago he lost a fight to an angry dove. In the old days the Pope used to just vaporize symbols of peace with his laser-powered Pope-vision! Giblets detects vulnerability... and with vulnerability comes opportunity! Cardinal Giblets... Pope Giblets... God Giblets the First! Soon, Pope! Very soon! Labels: popery
posted by Giblets at 11:08 AM
So it's Groundhog Day again. Well whoop de do. Let us all worship and praise the mighty Groundhog, he who can control our destiny with but a flick of his shadow, who wields the very weather itself, who can command the future. Well Giblets leaves his six weeks of winter or spring to neither god nor groundhog! Giblets commands his own fate, and he says to hell with the groundhog!
Hear me, Gibletsians! The Day of the Groundhog ends now! It does not control your destiny! It does not hold your future! It does not own your fate! Giblets does. Giblets alone commands the wind and the rain, the snow and the sleet, the time and the temperature! "The time is now nine-thirty-three, sixty-three degrees Fahrenheit," says the voice Giblets commands at a mere touch. Yeeeeeees! That time is Giblets's time, that temperature is Giblets's temperature! Beside that power your "groundhog" is nothing, NOTHING! The Day of the Groundhog is over! The Day of the Gibhog begins! And Giblets's first decree is NOT six more weeks of winter, NOT six more motnhs of winter, but an eternal and unending winter - unless you slay the groundhog pretenders to Giblets's throne! Destroy them, my subjects, or face neverending ice slicks, snowy roads, and blizzard advisories! Mwa-haha! MWA-HAHAHAHA!
posted by Giblets at 9:28 AM
|
|
|
