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Wednesday, September 28, 2005
This just in! Fafblog has just learned that George Bush has a secret third Bush twin he's kept out of the public eye for years - and not only is she a Democrat, but she's fighting the war with the power of teen pop! Sing on, Flora Bush! Your plaintive AIMspeak ballads will go unheard no longer!
[It appears that something has also happened involving a Rep. Tom DeLay (R-TX). But to be honest, this Flora Bush dealie is gonna have much bigger repurcussions.]
posted by fafnir at 4:38 PM
or, Remaining Explanations for the Widespread, Remarkably Similar Patterns of Prisoner Abuse in the U.S. Armed Forces, and the Failure of High-Ranking Officers to Report Them, Which Do Not Include the Existence of Officially-Sanctioned Torture as a Policy of the United States
Magoo's Postulate: While dozens of soldiers have indeed carried out thorough and sadistic acts of torture on military prisoners, their superior officers remained ignorant of everything, convinced, due to a rare ophthalmological disorder, that they were observing a particularly rousing performance of The Pirates of Penzance. Bell's Theorem: If one entangles the quantum states of two prisoners and then separates them, even over a vast spatial distance, torture tactics performed on one prisoner will be instantaneously observed as identical torture tactics performed on the second prisoner. Realizing that their own observations would continue to resolve into tortured-prisoner states as much as non-tortured-prisoner states, humane officers refused to investigate the incidents. The Funt Hypothesis: Nothing but wild pranks - wild, deliberate, meticulously organized pranks on the part of the military, the CIA, the press, the Iraqis, and a host of international human rights organizations to trick America into thinking it's actually been torturing people. A couple months from now, while being led by some of its closest friends to a vaguely trendy restaurant, America will hear a bunch of abused prisoners shout "Surprise!", see Osama bin Laden pop out of a birthday cake, and be simultaneously relieved and bemused to learn that the entire War on Terror has been an elaborate joke. Me Lucky Charms: Leprechauns did it. Labels: shmorture
posted by the Medium Lobster at 2:25 PM
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
As inconceivable as it sounds, Giblets is outraged yet again!
With fears mounting that high energy costs will crimp economic growth, President Bush called on Americans yesterday to conserve gasoline by driving less. He also issued a directive for all federal agencies to cut their own energy use and to encourage employees to use public transportation. ...The fool! This kind of environmental appeasement is just what the weather wants! If America caves on its proud tradition of oil gluttony it will just encourage more hurricanes! Then what will the clouds come for next? Our proud tradition of belching smog? Our rich and diverse output of greenhouse gases? When will it end! Fortunately Giblets has developed plans to keep America strong and oil-fat well into the future: SHORT TERM: suck oil out of neighboring countries's gas tanks while they're paying at the register MEDIUM TERM: explore new sources of oil in Alaska, Iraq, and the Moon LONG TERM: find more dinosaurs and lure them into tar pits to make more oil There you have it: a comprehensive strategy for energy dependence. Stay the course, America, or the environment has already won! Labels: our world and how to kill it
posted by Giblets at 7:19 PM
Behold the Future! Man has conquered the galaxy, ended world hunger, and built mighty cities on the moon, the sun, and every planet but Neptune and Pluto. No one goes to Neptune and Pluto. They are the crap planets.
In this strange new world all human needs are instantly met by the rapid advancement of science and technology. But at what cost - AT WHAT COST! "Hello Future Giblets!" says Future Me. "I see you're headin to future-work!" "In the past Giblets would have to go to hellish and mind-numbing work which slowly chips away at his very soul," says Future Giblets. "But in the future, Future Giblets merely uploads a copy of his soul to future-work where it is tortured and dissected for the sadistic delight of the OverDrones!" "For shame Future Giblets," says Future Me. "Existing on the internet is one thing. Copying yourself on the internet is self-piracy!" "Future Giblets defies all norms and regulations!" says Future Giblets. "He is streaming real live webgirls with the power of his mind. He is spamming the collective unconsciousness at the speed of thought!" "Right now the speed of thought is ten thousand times the speed a light on accounta Moore's Law," says Future Me, "but pretty soon it'll break the speed of speed and become so fast it'll be slower than anything ever!" "Humanity will think at more powerfully sluggish rates, becoming the most mightily stupid species in the universe, producing ever-flowing oceans of drool!" says Future Giblets. "The global saliva lobby's stranglehold will be complete!" "Eventually they will evolve into beings of pure ooze," says Future Me, "whose powers and abilities are beneath our wildest imaginings." "But their newfound mold minds will make them more gods than men!" says Future Giblets. "In the Future!" says Future Us. "WOOOOOOEEEEEEOOOOOO!" In the Future, man will not live in cities of brick and stone. He will live in cities of the MIND, digitized and uploaded onto the internet! They will frequently crash, deleting millions. The internet will run on servers which will themselves be digitized and uploaded onto the internet. Do not attempt to comprehend it! Your non-future brain will explode. "Hello Future Fafnir!" says Future Giblets. "I see you are enjoying a hearty future-lunch." "I sure am Future Giblets!" says Future Me. "A hearty future-lunch of Soytricious You." "Soytricious You is the food of all foods in the future!" says Future Giblets. "Nobody is anybody who doesn't eat Soytricious You!" "It tastes like waffles and pork candy and roast panda ice cream!" says Future Me. "One spoonful of Soytricious You contains one billion percent of your recommended daily allowance of everything!" says Future Giblets. "Two spoonfuls gives you the power of a thousand suns," says Future Me. "A cup makes you collapse into a black hole!" "An irresistibly delicious black hole," says Future Giblets, "from which flavor can never escape." "Soytricious You was the first food to get elected President of the United States," says Future Me, "which is how we got world peace." "But in the future it is SPACE peace, which is far superior to regular peace," says Future Giblets. "Peacestronauts are launched into space to conquer and destroy Space War and its alien homeworld before it strikes again!" "Millions die in the ensuing tranquility," says Future Me. "The survivors envy the dead." "Because the dead are converted into delicious Soytricious You!" says Future Giblets. "In the Future!" says Future Us. "WOOOOOOEEEEEEOOOOOO!" In the Future, man will be able to predict the future so effortlessly he will know what he is going to predict before he predicts it. Most of his predictions will involve predicting the predictions he is about to predict. Occasionally he will attempt to predict if women will have sex with him; they will not. Labels: true adventures
posted by fafnir at 6:13 PM
Friday, September 23, 2005
Darkness falls, my friends, bleak omens of final things. Over the last year or so we've seen, despite the best of intentions and the heartiest crushings of civil rights, the foreboding spread of Gay throughout the world as you know it, leading us inevitably, as James Dobson pointed out, towards the destruction of the earth.
The Netherlands has already been destroyed by a falling meteor, Belgium by a shambling horde of flesh-devouring zombies, and all of Spain recently spontaneously burst into flame shortly after legalizing gay civil marriage. Canada and Massachusetts can't be far behind, with expert gayologists noting that the increased appearance in these regions of incest, man-on-turtle love, cannibalism, and Yog-Sothoth the great and terrible, key and keeper of the gate, indicates that their relative economic and social stability will soon give way to a hell-blasted nightmare world in which the living envy the divorce rates of the dead. Of course, the true danger lies in the fact that once the Gay Genie is out of the bottle, it can never return - that there's no turning back on the road to the queer armageddon. Ah, some of you might be thinking, but surely the forces of good, justice, and straightness will triumph, even at the end of the world! If only it were so, my friends. But our situation is far more dire: evidence indicates that by the time the apocalypse arrives, God Himself may be infected with Gay. Between the United Church of Christ's pernicious promotion of equal rights and the Episopal Church's gay bishop, God has become increasingly pink of late. Indeed, reliable reports have it that God the Son has been acting suspiciously swishy, while the Holy Ghost has been a raging queen for years. But all is not lost: conservative Anglican churches are working to slow the spread of theological gayness by cutting themselves off from their depraved, rights-tolerating brethren, while the Catholic Church's recent promise of a gay inquisition may help to restore the sacred straightness of single dress-wearing men everywhere. Will this be enough to return heterosexuality to the Godhead? Even the Medium Lobster can't know for sure, but the Trinity may require extensive reparative prayer therapy to cure its damaged sexuality before all of this is over. If that doesn't work, the Medium Lobster can only suggest strict laws preventing God from marrying or having sex with another man, as the social and legal pressure should force Him to change His deviant ways. Civil rights advocates will complain as they always do, but when faced with celestial armageddon, what alternative do we have? The falcon cannot hear the falconer, the pink-dimmed tide is loosed - and what gay beast, its hour come round at last, minces cattily towards Bethlehem to be born? Labels: the rainbow peril
posted by the Medium Lobster at 2:02 PM
Every so often Giblets gets mail asking him "oh where is Giblets" and "where did Giblets go" and "what will I do I am lost in the world without Giblets." This is understandable because without Giblets you are hopeless but Giblets needs some him-time every now and then, like over the last week went he went on holiday to explore and plunder the vast depths of the universe. He brought back presents.
 Behold the mighty fatbird! Do not let its complacently gluttonous appearance fool you - it is a deadly and malicious beast armed with folds of killer blubber capable of rolling at speeds of up to two meters per hour! Giblets valiantly faced down the terrifying creature in a life-and-death struggle Giblets barely survived, and now triumphantly returns with the monster's hulking corpse stuffed and mounted and attached to a keychain! It's not for you, don't touch! It is for Giblets. See here the horrors of the Mickeytron, the soulless robotic sentinel of an evil alternate future in which the artificial intelligence at the heart of the Epcott Center has finally overthrown mankind! The Mickeytron is simple to destroy but its power is that you do not want to - you want to buy it instead. You hate it, but you love its conveniently located gift shop! This is not for you, you do not deserve it, it is for Giblets! But here, here Giblets has something truly special - the evil pickle king, lord and ruler of the cruel and vicious pickle people who live at the center of the earth! Captured by his armies, Giblets was brought before the high pickle court and told there was but one chance to escape: to answer the ancient riddle of the pickle prophet. Giblets ate them all instead. Stupid pickles! Would you like the pickle king? Too bad, Giblets was saving this for Fafnir. But Fafnir is not worthy of this either. Giblets is going to give this to someone special, like Giblets.But do not worry - Giblets has saved the best gift of all for you... the gift of Giblets! Now that Giblets is back he is here to answer all your most important and vital questions to guide you through your life as only Giblets can. "Mmmmfffhthfhfh!" you say. Don't try to talk and eat and breathe at the same time! Oh, you are hopeless! Labels: gibletology
posted by Giblets at 11:49 AM
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
The usual liberal quarters have found yet another excuse to rail against the Iraq War, citing a new report from the Center for Strategic and International Studies which finds that the war radicalized the majority of Saudi militants in Iraq. How can the war continue, they ask, if it's exacerbating the problem it was meant to solve?
This, of course, is drastically missing the point. The Iraq invasion was never meant to eliminate terrorists. Its genius lies in a temporal flypaper strategy: by goading possible terrorists to become terrorists, it allows America to fight them in the present so that it doesn't have to fight them in the future. For in the future, terrorists will not be armed with mere roadside bombs and hijacked airplanes, but robot bombs and robot airplanes, which will be able to perform millions more explosions per second than the clunky, outdated terrorists of today. Faced with the hellish prospect of an endless war against Sunni insurgoclones, or the insurmountable task of hunting down a legion of OsamaTrons, is it any wonder that the president worked so hard to encourage terrorist recruitment today rather than face the techno-terrorist onslaught of tomorrow? Indeed, America should do more to antagonize potential enemies, as the best chance for victory against any of them is to defeat them now in the ultimate preemptive strike before they can grow stronger later. The Medium Lobster suggests that America embark on a campaign to systematically alienate the world by discarding international treaties and agreements, broadly violating widely-held tenets of international law, encouraging its military to violate the most basic human rights of its prisoners, and appointing deranged nihilists to positions of authority in the United Nations. Too radical to actually achieve? Perhaps. But the Medium Lobster can always hope - and hope is all we have for the future.
posted by the Medium Lobster at 6:22 PM
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Every day Giblets sees more and more signs of a fatally stupid universe which stubbornly refuses to obey his commands. This North Korea agreement, for instance - it is the stuff of fools! You can never get North Korea to give up its nukes just by giving them food and aid and promising not to blow them up - not when they can just cut out the middleman and eat the nukes themselves! Soon we will be overwhelmed with millions of giant radioactive mutant communists from beyond the 38th parallel, and all because no one listened to Giblets!
The only certain solution - or at least the only FUN solution - is regime change, especially the kind that blows stuff up. Giblets figures we could stomp North Korea with a couple hundred thousand troops from America's elite Imaginary Brigade and still have at least half a million left over to reinforce the occupation in Iraq! But no, Pyongyang will go unsploded and Giblets ignored because George Bush is a giant pussy. Well don't come crying to me when fire-breathing Kim Jong Ils are rampaging through downtown Tokyo.
posted by Giblets at 9:44 AM
Monday, September 19, 2005
"I dunno if this is gonna work, God," says me.
"Wattayamean, it's not gonna work!" says God. "I'm God! Of course it's gonna work!" "Well I'm just not sure if you can fit em all," says me. "The brachiosaurs weigh fifty tons each just by themselves an that's not countin the other seven hundred dinosaur species we gotta get on the boat." "Well of COURSE they're not gonna fit if you bring 'em on full SIZE!" says God. "First you gotta let em dry out so's they shrink back down to their original pill form. THEN, once the flood's over, you take 'em back outta the package, add water, and watch 'em grow!" "Well," says me. "I GUESS that could work." "Trust me," says God. "I had like fifty of these things when I was a kid. The first thing you do..." "RRRAAAAAARRRRRRHHHHH!" says the T-rex chompin God. "AAAA!" says me runnin away. "OH GOD!" says God. "So many teeth!" "An that's why bad things happen to good people," says me. "Giblets wants ice cream," says Giblets. Labels: godmotology, great moments
posted by fafnir at 4:48 PM
So you're standin in the pie department of your local pie store an a course you feel like gettin a pie. "Oh but there are so many delicious kindsa pie Fafnir" says you. "Which one should I get." Well over here we got a nice crispy apple pie an over there you got the fluffy lemon merangue an over there you got the double chocolate cream an right over there you got a large, chiefly aquatic African herbivorous mammal with thick skin, short legs an a broad, wide-mouthed muzzle. "Why I think I'll pick up that last one on accounta I feel like tryin somethin new today" says you an it roars an bites your head an stomps you to death.
 Review! Now what went wrong there! "Oh it hurts so much!" says you gettin stomped by the pie. "This is the worst pie ever!" Well for starters that was not really a pie. It was in fact a hippopotomus. There's subtle differences between hippopotomuses an pies which you should probably learn about, for instance pies tend to have a rounder and flakier crust and hippopotomuses tend to be more aggressive an territorial and weigh up to seven thousand pounds. If you'd paid more attention in pie class you coulda been enjoyin a tasty dessert right now insteada gettin eatin by a hippo. "I'm sorry Mr. Fafnir!" says you. Don't be sorry, just think harder on our next exercise! So you're hikin through the forest like you do an after a while you're gettin hungry for pie. Luckily there's a pie right aheada you sittin in front of a big tree. This must be one a those tree pies you hear about all the time! It looks like a woody shrub with leaves containing seven to thirteen reddish-green leaflets. "Well this sure does hit the spot," says you eatin the leaf pie, "even though it is not all that filling and makes my throat itchy and numb." Then you pass out from anaphylactic shock and are eaten by bears, or hippos dressed as bears. Review! "Oh what happened this time!" says you. The pie you ate wasn't a pie - it was poison sumac, which is often confused with the native tree pie on accounta its clever natural camoflage. For future reference you can always tell the real tree pie by its distinctive yellow bands. Last question! So you're in a bakery lookin at pies. There's every kinda pie you can think of here - blueberry pies, greenberry pies, pork pies, chocolate pies, mutton pies, the sultry onion pie. "Well I am going to purchase a perfectly ordinary blueberry pie, says you, "which cannot be confused with poisonous plants or angry angry hippos." Well good for you! Then your pie shoots you and steals your wallet. Oh no!Review! As you shoulda guessed by now the pie was not in fact a pie but Henri DuMarche a.k.a. Ze Lemon, international spy, saboteur and master of disguise who has been cleverly hiding in that pie crust for the last coupla weeks waitin for you to show up. That piemoflage would never have fooled anyone who'd done their problem sets! For shame, you! See me after class. Labels: pie
posted by fafnir at 2:30 PM
Sunday, September 11, 2005
"The car is out of control!" says me.
"The car is going to crash!" says Giblets. "Crash verrrrry gradually!" says me. "Right here in the parking lot!" says Giblets. "Most accidents happen in the parking lot," says me. "One every six minutes," says Giblets. "Eighty-seven thousand a year," says me. "It is the great gray death trap!" says Giblets. "The ancient Mayans called the parking lot 'the asphalt dragon' and respected its power and might," says me. "Their legends tell of two brothers from the sky," says Giblets. "One of them was kind and good and loved the earth," says me. "And the other was a parking lot," says Giblets. "And that man grew up to be Abe Fortas," says me. "Hell of a judge, ol Abe Fortas," says Giblets. "I bet he could get us outta this car," says me. "This crashing car!" says Giblets. "This slowly crashing car!" says me. "There is no way to stop it!" says Giblets. "I think it's stopped right now!" says me. "Which is why we can't control it!" says Giblets. "Which means it is out of control!" says me. "Which means it is going to crash!" says Giblets. "Oh the suspense!" says me. Tune in next week for yet another TALE OF SUSPENSE! Labels: true adventures
posted by fafnir at 3:36 PM
Tuesday, September 6, 2005
If you're gettin worried that the government won't be there to help you out durin the next hurricane or earthquake or terrorist attack, don't panic! Fafblog is here with our Do-It-Yourself Emergency Management Guide! Today we're gonna show you how to get through a major disaster just usin stuff you've got lyin around the home.
You will need: Make-And-Bake Clay Levee! Make flood prevention easy AND fun with this emergency arts and crafts project! 1. Mix some cornstarch, baking soda, and water in a large bowl. Make sure it's evenly mixed! 2. Cook over low heat, stirring for about 15 minutes 3. When your mixture starts to thicken, take it off the stove and let it cool 4. Mold into an 8 foot high 20 foot wide levee 5. Decorate with seashells and macaroni! How to Make a Paper Helicopter For a quick homemade evacuation you just can't beat a paper helicopter. Make one on your own with the ancient Japanese folding art of oragami! Instructional drawings below. Follow closely!  Ta-da! For best results crease edges sharply. Carries up to four passengers weighing half an ounce each or eight passengers weighing a quarter ounce each. Do-It-Yourself National Guard! First get some old socks. Sew on some buttons for the eyes. Use yarn for the hair but keep it trimmed short on accounta disipline! Add some felt uniforms for a touch a flair. The striped sock is the sergeant, he is gruff but loyal. The fancy dress sock is the general, he commands the others with his fabricky leadership skills! The white running sock is the medic, he doubles as a bandage when you get hit by falling rubble. Now you're all set to be escorted out of the disaster zone with your new puppet pals! Be careful, though: they're armed... with imagination. Labels: majestic equality
posted by fafnir at 3:23 PM
Predictably enough, the president has come under attack in the wake of the New Orleans disaster, as embittered partisans seek to blame him for every little thing the agencies under his control failed to do for days while Americans were starving and drowning to death. Loose talk of lack of preparation, underfunded levees, and apathetic response has provided some with the mistaken impression that the US government could've done more to save those trapped in the destroyed city. This, of course, is ridiculous: as anyone knowledgable in the nature of the structure and history of the American executive branch would explain, the president is utterly powerless in the face of disaster, and can only look on helplessly and leave things to those powerhouses in local government.
There's only so much the leader of the free world can do in the event of a crisis. Yes, the military and the national guard can be used to deliver vital supplies and evacuate trapped residents, and critical assets can be seized with emergency powers. But who has the ability to do all this? The chain of command is too elaborate and byzantine to determine who was running the national emergency response last week. Some say it was Louisiana governor Kathleen Blanco giving orders to army and FEMA officials, some say it was New Orleans mayor Ray Nagin, some say it was all being supervised by an elderly notary public, some say its communications snafus and bureaucratic delays are the result of the troublesome meddling of trickserish gremlin-folk, some say it was created by the demiurgic Yaldabaoth in the time before time. The truth may be lost to us forever, but of one thing we may be certain: the federal government was surely powerless to intervene in the catastrophe. If only there existed some sort of federal agency for emergency management, perhaps under the supervision of a cabinet-level department for securing the homeland! In the absence of such powers and resources, what is a chief executive to do but bolster morale as best he can through boisterous jokes and heartily-staged photo ops? Indeed, the president even attempted to soften the blow to the national economy by dispatching his secretary of state on a vigorous shopping mission, instead of wasting her time with frivolous international aid offers. More importantly, one must recognize that there are limits to what powers the federal government should exercise in a crisis. Yes, it is the right and duty of the president to override state drug policy, to determine who can or cannot marry, to indefinitely detain citizens without due process and to torture and kill prisoners as he sees fit, but disaster relief is a matter that should be left to the states. Yes, the images of the drowned, the diseased, and the desperately dying drove much of the country to outrage, but how much more outraged would America have been if FEMA had fed the Superdome refugees without the full oversight and authorization of the State of Louisiana? Had the president sent rescue helicopters to evacuate New Orleans the day the levees burst, he might have saved thousands of lives, but he would also have overstepped his authority - and if there's one thing George W. Bush refuses to countenance, it is abuse of power. Of course, the lion's share of responsibility for disaster management falls on the individual. With their homes destroyed and their city flooded, the people of New Orleans could have simply designed and constructed boats from the plentiful driftwood and sailed to safety; instead, they panicked and scrambled for uncontaminated water and insulin. Learn from their example, America, and be prepared for the next disaster! Town halls should discuss the quickest way to redeploy the national guard units in their neighborhoods. Every family should keep their emergency rations stocked and their escape helicopters fueled and ready. The life you save will have to be your own: no one else will do it.
posted by the Medium Lobster at 12:36 PM
Monday, September 5, 2005
Giblets has heard a whole lotta whining this week about "oh the government screwed up the hurricane rescue" and "oh they did not evacuate the city for days and days" and "oh they should have spent money to build up the dams and levees and kept FEMA funded and sent in military and national guard people with food and water right away so thousands of people would not starve to death." Well that just sounds like a great idea - for a bunch of namby-pamby hurricane-lovers! Oh, let's cower behind our great big levees and hope the rescue crews save us from the big mean storm - instead of taking the fight to very clouds of terror themselves!
This is a Global War on Weather and like any successful war it can't be won on the defensive. If we spend all our time reacting to hurricanes instead of attacking them where they live, we will only embolden further hurricanes! The only language hurricanes understand is force - and possibly hurricanese, which is difficult to learn and involves the use of many glottal stops. We must fight nature where it lives so it can't fight us at home! The first step we must take is a series of "decapitation strike" air raids to wipe out threateningly puffy-looking cumulus clouds - some of which, Giblets observed the other day, may already resemble ferocious animals! Next we must take out a major cold front with a series of MOABs and low-yield "bunker-buster" nukes. Stage three must be the invasion and occupation of the jet stream, complete with a massive influx of several military and national guard units to rebuild and keep the peace. Some namby-pamby skeptic-types say "oh you cannot occupy the jet stream, you will only antagonize the native cloud-people and plunge several thousand feet to your death below." Well all Giblets has to say to that is shut up, storm-symp! The people of New Orleans would be ashamed of you if they weren't so busy looking for food. "But Giblets what can I do on my own as a slavishly-devoted citizen to support the war effort!" you say. Plenty! Burn fossil fuels like coal and oil to attack our atmospherist enemy with noxious fumes and greenhouse gases! Why walk next door when you can drive instead - your country needs the smog! We can win on multiple fronts, too: if you're passing a clean body of water, don't just walk on by. Do your civic duty and dump some mercury or solid waste in there! Drill for oil in a baby seal. Light a panda on fire and set it loose in a rainforest! And don't think Giblets has forgotten about YOU, Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. Giblets has growing evidence that a cell of polar bears had deep and lasting connections to Hurricane Frances! Vengeance and slant drilling operations will be mine! The best defense is not a good offense - it's a good defense. But the most satisfying RESPONSE to the FAILURE of a BAD defense is to blow something up. So grab a gun and a jingoistic tune and let's go! Victory or crude emotional approximation of victory awaits! Labels: securitainment
posted by Giblets at 8:05 AM
Saturday, September 3, 2005
Fafblog as you all know of course is a Serious Blog On Serious Earth and is dedicated to serving a readership which gets all its news an information exclusively from Fafblog. Many of you may be confused over the last week then since we have not had any posts in a while, sittin around goin "Hey where's Fafblog" an "What is happening, there is no Fafblog" an "I guess there's no news at all, that's weird" an "Where is my medicine, I am so confused."
Well as it turns out the world seems to be ending down in Lousisiana and Mississippi right now. You can help out by giving to relief organizations. The Red Cross and the Salvation Army are good places to start. If you don't have much to give, still give something - it'll still be appreciated. Gary Farber is your one-man internet as always, with posts on every article there is.
posted by fafnir at 10:26 AM
"That's funny," says me. "Says here on Fafblog we haven't blogged in a week."
"Impossible!" says Giblets. "Fafnir and Giblets are unstoppable superactive blogmachines! Nothing can stand before our worldwidewebular juggernaut!" "Some scholars believe we DID blog," says me, "only our writings were lost with the pyramids." "But Giblets's pyramids were impregnable!" says Giblets. "All intruders were destroyed by Giblets's fearsome guard mummies and their terrible sun-curse of Ra-Gibhotep!" "They brought anti-mummy mummies to use on your mummies," says me. "An ninjas. An big dogs who are also ninjas." "Stupid ninja dogs!" says Giblets. "Ra-Gibhotep is useless against them!" "Some theories say we blogged but we just don't remember bloggin," says me, "on accounta the mysterious mystery a Missing Time, wooooo." "Missing time!" says Giblets. "Memories misappropriated from our mighty minds! Who are the culprits, Giblets demands satisfaction!" "All signs point to alien abduction!" says me. "They will stop at nothing to probe our brains an steal our yokels an harass our gentle cow friends." "Every night eight whole hours vanish from Giblets's memory!" says Giblets. "Countless infernal experiments have been foisted upon Giblets since childhood!" "Oh no me too!" says me. "What has alien science done!" "Giblets isn't telling you!" says Giblets. "You're probably some evil alien replacement Fafnir come to eat Giblets's delicious brains!" "Am not!" says me. "An I can prove it too. Ask me a question only I know the answer to." "Okay," says Giblets. "What number are you thinking of." "I dunno," says me thinkin a potatoes. "Me either," says Giblets. "AAAA!" says us. "We are both aliens!" An we run around in circles an yell an bump into stuff for a while. "I dunno if we're really aliens," says me after we're all tired. "I think maybe we're just confused." "Yes... confused by an alien plot to confuse us!" says Giblets. "That means they still walk among us!" says me. Chris walks in. We jump im an wrestle im to the ground! "What next," says me. "We must dissect him," says Giblets. "For the good of Science." "What if he's NOT an alien," says me. "Then we're just dissectin our buddy Chris." "Then WE'RE aliens and we wanna dissect him anyway," says Giblets. "It's win-win." "Hooray!" says me. "And we will record it for posterity in the annals of Fafblog." Then the mummies attacked and destroyed all records of this conversation.
posted by fafnir at 8:39 AM
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