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Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Q. Is the new plan an exit plan?
A. The president doesn't believe in exit plans! Exit plans are for presidents who're lookin for an exit. Our president's got a Victory Plan cause he's always lookin for victory. Q. The president doesn't believe in plain ol exits. When he's stuck in a building an the building's on fire he doesn't say "where's the emergency exit?" He says "where's the emergency victory!" A. The emergency victory is located on either side of the main hallway under the flashing blue lights. Break glass for triumph over Islamism! Q. Sometimes all the constant victory gets to be a little much for him. He just wants to pick up a pizza and he's gotta wrestle an alligator on the way there. He wants to go to the movies and he's gotta sink a pirate ship first. A. He can't leave the house without defeating at least three robots and a ninja. It is exhausting. Q. Does the new plan stay the course? I'm a big fan of the course. A. Yes absolutely! If you liked what the course had to offer you're definitely gonna like the strong elements of coursiness in the new plan. Q. I dunno... it IS a new plan. Are you sure we haven't switched to another course somewhere? Did we even wobble a little? A. This course is the same course as the previous course but is now served on a bed of fresh leafy green victory along with a side of pasta salad and your choice of vegetable. Q. Mmmm, sounds delicious! How come the old plan didn't have this much victory in it? A. It did! We just didn't tell you about it. This is newly declassified top secret victory. Q. Does that mean the new plan is really the old plan? A. Every day is a new day for the plan! Today is the first day of the rest of the plan's life. A. In the new plan, the Iraqi security forces will be better trained than ever before. Q. I heard the Iraqi security forces are turnin into death squads. A. Well can't they be well-trained AND death squads? You gotta have pretty good trainin to be a good death squad. Q. Well I guess that's true. A. I mean let's not shortchange the death squads here. It's hard work bein a death squad. Q. Well, are they bona fide agents of an accountable government who operate within the boundaries of the law, or are they more like sectarian thugs who carry out extrajudicial back alley executions under the cover of darkness? A. Why can't they be both, like one a those pictures of two faces that looks like a vase? Q. Or a car that turns into a robot! A. See, there you go! Death squads: democracy in disguise. Q. We know the victory plan's gonna get us some victory. A. Yep. Q. Question: how MUCH victory? A. COMPLETE victory. Q. Wow! A. I know! Q. I wasn't expectin that much victory! A. Iraq will be peaceful united stable democratic an secure an Iraqis'll have the institutions and resources they need to govern themselves justly and provide security for their country an Tiny Tim's gonna walk again an Jalal Talabani's gonna save Christmas and you will believe an ayatollah can fly! Q. That's not bad for a country on the brink of civil war! A. All we need to do now is win... with the power of winning! Q. Now that's a plan! Labels: q and a, warnography
posted by fafnir at 12:40 PM
Monday, November 28, 2005
I thought I was gettin on the inbound blue line this mornin but I musta got the schedule mixed up or the routes confused cause this looks less like your conventional subway car an more like a Viking longship carryin a crew of eighty heavily-armed Norsemen. "Excuse me do you know the way to Downtown Crossing," says me. The Vikings don't answer, they're too busy sackin the coast a France. I don't wanna seem like a freeloader so I pick up a helmet an a spear an pitch in. We spend mosta the day lootin towns an villages along the edge a the Frankish Empire but I still haven't figured out where this thing connects to the commuter rail. What a confusing system! Maybe I can get some directions after we finish burnin Paris.
Labels: true adventures
posted by fafnir at 7:14 PM
 Behold pumpkinus rex, the tyrant king of pie! With its regal crust, majestic filling and complete control of the armed forces it rules the court of earthly pies, where its every mad whim is law and its enemies are quickly decrusted and thrown to hungry gluttons. Many have challenged its pastrular supremacy but their crumbs lie scattered among the dusty tins of history.They say it is the last of the ancient pies, fully-formed from the forehead of its father the sweet potato pie when it slew the primordial giants, which were a kind of beef and mushroom tart. Since then it has conquered lands and ruled empires and sired quiches and cakes and the monstrous demi-pies, fearsome creatures half-dessert and half-beast who live in the underworld of forgotten pastries along with the exiled holiday pies who were long ago vanquished in the pumpkin's quest for seasonal dominance: the egg nog pie, the turkey and pilgrim crisp, the savory jesus cobbler. Even the once-beloved kwanzaa quiche is now nothing but a faded memory. How long will the pumpkin pie reign supreme? Forever! Who can challenge it? No one! With its faithful retainer the apple pie by its side guardin it twenty-four hours a day you can bet that - GASP! The apple pie is attacking! It has been a member of the resistance all along! A struggle ensues. The pumpkin leers at the apple. The apple balks at the pumpkin! A fly bumps into a nearby window! After several hours a cook takes the apple away, it's headed for a party down the street. Victory once again! Surely the gods smile upon this king of kings and lord of lords and he shall reign forever and whoops, knocked it right off the table onto the floor there. Oh well, who wants ice cream! Labels: pie
posted by fafnir at 5:47 PM
"SKREEEEEEE-GREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNKK!"
"Well that's an interestin point," says me, "but personally I believe that Atilla the Hun supported a lotta policies that in retrospect reflect poorly on his qualities as both a leader and a person." "GREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOONK! EEERONK HRONK *FWOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH*!" "Well we agree to disagree," says me. Happy Holidays, everybody! Labels: jollity
posted by fafnir at 1:23 PM
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Well I know we can win the Iraq War, an I even know how we can do it. It's a pretty complicated multi-step process an I'm simplifyin it a little bit for everybody here but I got it all spelled out an ready to go an believe you me it's gonna work. The key thing is this real big rock.
First thing you're gonna wanna do is stick a great big pile a terrorist food right over here. Now terrorists just can't resist that delicious terrorist food so they're all gonna come runnin from all over to get to it, an they're all gonna be too busy eatin it to notice that it's sittin on top a this great big painted "X" (see figure 1a). The logistics start gettin pretty tricky from here so everybody pay real close attention. The X a course is painted on the downward slope of a giant wooden level propped up on a nearby boulder (see fig. 1b). Now on the other end a the lever we drop the real big rock (fig. 1c), which is currently hidden outta view behind a convenient rocky butte, which will spring the lever and launch the surprised terrorists into the air and straight into the cliff face (fig. 2a), seriously disrupting communications throughout the insurgency and makin em all kinda hang there under the rock for a while til the force of the impact breaks the cliff face off, causing it to fall on top of the terrorists right after they've already hit the canyon floor (fig. 2b). I cannot stress enough the importance of the placement of the real big rock; please mark your explodographs accordingly. At this point there should be a sizable decrease in terrorist morale and activity, with the possible exception of sad little hand-held signs readin "Oh no!" and "Why me?" to which we may or may not choose to hold up our own equally-terse, taunting hand-held signs in response. When the terrorists pull themselves off the ground they'll be angry and compressed into funny accordion shapes and looking to retaliate, which is when they'll see us wavin off in the distance, come runnin to get us, and run straight into a rock wall cleverly painted to look like us instead (fig. 3a). At this point their intelligence apparatus will be in serious disarray resulting in a leadership-level confusion of a train with a painting of a train (fig. 3b) which should result in heavy locomotive-related injuries. The terrorists will stay stuck to the speeding train until it runs through the low overpass (fig. 4), which should scrape the terrorists off and send them falling over the rocky promentory (4a) and back onto the wooden lever (fig 1b), catapulting the real big rock (fig 1c), in a strange quirk of physics, directly on top of the terrorists, which should knock out their command and control structure. The terrorists in a surprising last ditch burst of strength will manage to hoist the big rock over their collective heads and roll it away, only to realize too late it is about to land back on the other side of the lever, catapulting Abu Musab al Zarqawi and the rest of the Sunni insurgency far over the horizon where they will disappear in a puff of white smoke. Now I know you got some questions. How much is this gonna cost? Given the operation's efficient use of natural geological formations, just $19.95 plus shipping from the good people at Acme. How can we judge its effectiveness? Well just look at that puff a white smoke! That an the tiny shrinking black circle means mission accomplished. Now of course I'm willin to listen to any other plans to win the war and stabilize Iraq but in the meantime I'll be here polishin my jet-powered super-skis. Labels: everybody loves a winner
posted by fafnir at 4:41 PM
A spectre is haunting America - a namby-pamby weak-kneed beret-wearing "oh no raw pig's head for me thank you I am a vegetarian" spectre, and it is the spectre of Losing! It has spread to Senators and Congressmen and military commanders (how could you let yourself down like this, General Casey!), and now it has seized a majority of Americans. Over 60% of the country thinks we should give up and run home weeping to our collective mommy for the application of band-aids of remorse to the boo-boos of wounded national pride. Well it won't work, America! All that will do is get the neighborhood bully of terrorism to steal our lunch money of national security during gym class and taunt us with the knowledge that his dad is bigger than our dad! His dad being a militant and unrepresentative variant of Islam.
Why do so many Americans want to lose? Giblets blames a monstrous and epidemic Culture of Losingdom fostered by liberal values of tolerance and multiculturalism! In the old days if you were poor you were a loser, and you worked in a lead paint factory for a penny a day or you killed and ate smaller, weaker, more losery poor people to get by - which made you stronger and more winnery as a result! Nowadays we just GIVE money to poor people to make them LESS poor. Why? Because liberals don't care about strengthening the coal-mining and dumpster-diving skills of our nation's destitute! They only care about preserving their contribution to America's rich tapestry of loserical diversity. Today the government forces us to display loser religions next to winner religions in public places, as if they were ALL real! Give Giblets a break - we ALL know Baby Jesus can totally kick that menorah's ass! And loser opinions are allowed to be printed in our newspapers, right next to the real opinions! They don't even print them in teeny print! Now liberals and Democrats are bringing their objectively pro-loser propaganda to the war in Iraq, where their talk about losing is sabotaging the greatest weapon we have: talk about winning! There is only one solution: a full military strike on Democrats across the country. If America fails to act now, Democrats might retake Congress next year - which means that Losing would win! Would beating the Democrats allow us to beat the terrorists? No, but Giblets would find it far more satisfying. And when we do lose to the terrorists, Giblets can always just blame it on the Democrats! And the French. And the Special Olympics! You can't ALL be winners, Special Olympians! Do the math! Labels: everybody loves a winner
posted by Giblets at 3:10 PM
America must win the war in Iraq. This isn't mere rhetoric, or some militant call to arms. It is merely a statement of fact. There is, at present, no way for America to lose the war, because there is no readily comprehensible plan to win.
Since the start of the Iraq war, the White House has brilliantly concealed its purpose, goals, and rationale. Was the goal a democratic Iraq? A stable Iraq? Any Iraq short of outright civil war? One year into the occupation the endpoint of the project was already so muddled it could be any of those of none of them. And therein lies the genius: if you have no set or discernible goal, there's no way to fail to accomplish it. And if you can't fail, how can you not succeed? Indeed, since the war has no clear objectives, its objectives can be adjusted to have already been met at any point. A successful terrorist attack becomes a sign of weakness and desperation in the enemy; an eruption of insurgent violence becomes part of a brilliant flypaper strategy. Consider the following dire sentiment: If America stays bogged down in Iraq, the country's deterioration into sectarian violence and partition may become inevitable, even as the sustained military commitment leads to the collapse of the U.S. armed forces as we know them.Grim, yes. But let's take a look at this pig wearing the bright, shiny lip gloss of victory! If America stays the course in Iraq, the country's advancement into sectarian friskiness and partition may become a success, even as the sustained military commitment leads to a transformation of the military for the twenty-first century.Ah, that's more like it! Indeed, once we discard any plans or expectations for actual success, victory can become anything: an oppressive theocracy, a costly, drawn-out slaughter, a bloody civil war, a butterfly dreaming it's a monk dreaming it's victory. What could "failure" possibly look like in the context of a scenario where we don't know what we're trying to achieve? When winning becomes a state of mind, insanity becomes an increasingly attractive option. What have you got to lose? Labels: everybody loves a winner
posted by Medium Lobster at 2:19 PM
It's time for another round of Point: Counterpoint: Counter-Counterpoint! Today's topic is VICTORY. Should we be for it or against it? What about losing, doesn't it have several interesting arguments in its favor too? This is just the kinda complex issue you can't tackle from just two black an white sides. It takes THREE a those to get the job done, which is why we got Point: Counterpoint: Counter-Counterpoint!
Labels: everybody loves a winner
posted by fafnir at 12:43 PM
Saturday, November 19, 2005
Giblets is working on his fully comprehensive all-encompassing book on everything ever, Giblets Hates Your Stupid Universe. Giblets is currently writing the chapter on Failure, which will be long and horrible and tedious as it requires him to painstakingly catalogue failure in all its myriad forms. Let's take a look at the list so far:
Nice going, penicillin! You are topping the charts with some solid mediocrity right now. Don't let it go to your head! Arrogance is a sign of failure. Labels: true adventures
posted by Giblets at 6:14 PM
Now everybody knows that in the wild the monkey and the vending machine are terrible enemies and they hunt and fight each other night and day. But once there was a young monkey and a baby vending machine who didn't know this ancient law of the jungle and played with each other all day long. "You're my very best friend, vending machine," the monkey would say. "CHING CHING CHING, please deposit $1.25," the vending machine would say right back.
One day the monkey's father who was a great strong monkey king said to him "Monkey, the time has come when you must join with your monkey siblings in the war against the vending machines," and the monkey was angry and sad and threw bananas but he knew what had to be done, and the vending machine's father who was a mighty and respected automated subway token dispenser said "ba-DEEP! COLLECT CHANGE NOW" and the vending machine said "ba-ZEEEP-zhew" and rejected a wrinkled one dollar bill. The next day all the monkeys and the vending machines lined up the fight in the last great monkey-vending machine war and the monkey said "I'm sorry, vending machine" and the vending machine said "ding ding ka-BZZT" and the monkeys charged at the vending machines and the vending machines refunded numerous pennies and they all got squished by a bulldozer to make way for a new Wal-Mart which went on to sell a variety of products at very low prices but only by mistreating its low-wage workers. The Moral Of Our Story: Hey, have you seen that new Wal-Mart documentary? It's pretty good. Labels: fables
posted by fafnir at 3:52 PM
Friday, November 18, 2005
"Success, triumph, victory!" says Giblets layin down the last slice a pumpernickel. "We are lords of lunchmeat, conquistadors of the culinary! For we and we alone have built the world's largest free-standing sandwich!"
"Very true," says me. "At six miles tall it easily beats the previous record of famed renaissance lunch architect Arturo Oppendoff, whose Sandwich Cathedral was never appreciated in his time." "He was decried as an apostate by Pope Byzantine the Puzzled," says Giblets, "for the heresy of constructing a sandwich so great it would challenge the divine." "And so he climbed all the way to the top slice," says me, "and was welcomed into heaven by a benevolent and bready creator." "Today he is the patron saint of cold cuts and lies in neat slices at the buffet of the celestials," says Giblets. "When he goes bad the earth mourns with three months of winter!" "Our sandwich will spread joy and confusion all over the land," says me. "Children will come from all over an say 'mommy is that God?' an she'll say 'no honey that's just his sandwich'." "Future generations will form whole cultures around this sandwich," says Giblets. "It will stand as a reminder of a lost age of titans, when mystical demigods wore the gift of foot-long fingernails, when midget horses roamed the earth beside the world's fattest twins and men wore beards of bees!" "But will it inspire future man to greater sandwichness or will it intimidate him from approaching the lunchular arts at all?" says me. "No greater glory is possible than this, the epitome of sandwich!" says Giblets. "Mankind will resign himself to a world in which every noontime meal is but a pale imitation of this edifice of eats!" "What about that one over there?" says me. Out by the horizon is a tall an growing tower of stacked rye an processed meat byproducts. "Impossible!" says Giblets. "Who dares defy our snackular supremacy!" "I don't think it's a sandwich at all," says me. "I think it's the necessary and dialectical reaction to our sandwich." "It's the Hegelian antithesis of sandwich!" says Giblets. "While the sandwich is edible, delicious, inanimate and innocuous, the antisandwich is inedible, disgusting, mobile and predatory!" "It's not made of warm sliced bread and fresh lettuce," says me. "It's made of mold and tooth decay and corrupt zoning officials." "It's headed this way!" says Giblets. "Man the battle stations! Launch the porkpedos! The enemy must be destroyed!" "No, Giblets," says me. "Sandwich and antisandwich must collide in a tasty contest of wills from which a bold new sandwich of synthesis will emerge!" "But this new sandwich order - what will it taste like?" says Giblets. "The future, Giblets," says me. "It will taste like the future." And ten thousand years later... IT DID. WEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOO! Labels: true adventures
posted by fafnir at 6:32 PM
Thursday, November 17, 2005
So Democratic hawk John P. Murtha wants America to pull out of Iraq within six months. John P. Murtha thinks insurgents "are united against U.S. forces, and we have become a catalyst for violence" and that "it's time to bring the troops home."
That's because John P. Murtha is a crybaby. Foolish Murtha! If we leave Iraq now we will be losing right in front of the terrorists. That means Osama bin Laden will think we're a bunch of pussies! Giblets can take a lot of insults to his dignity but he can't take Musab al Zarqawi callin' him chicken during Iraqi gym class 'cause John P. Murtha won't let him fight! The only thing to do is for America to stay the course and remain in Iraq for the next five to twelvezenteen years, until either our resources are depleted or we have been chased from the roof of the American embassy in the middle of a full-blown civil war. That is the kind of blood-curdling, explosively crippling losingdom that terrorists can stand back and admire! Because when America loses, America loses victoriously! The key is to lose with honor. As the situation worsens, Giblets will grow louder to indicate that victory - symbolic victory, Platonic victory, bizarro victory? who knows! - is imminent! All press conferences will be delivered via bullhorn. For the State of the Union Giblets will be fired out of a cannon while dancing girls in striped bathing suits sing the National Anthem. At the final withdrawl announcement he will land an aircraft carrier on top of an F-14 (Giblets can do it!) and tell a cheering crowd that America has won by secretly tricking the terrorists into escalating the very insurgency he was counting on all along! He will then declare a new national holiday: V-R Day, Victory Over Reality! Unicorn burgers and pixie dust for everyone! But not for you, John P. Murtha - 'cause we don't let crybabies eat our unicorn burgers in America. Labels: everybody loves a winner
posted by Giblets at 6:07 PM
The Christian right has a long and illustrious history of confronting some of the greatest threats to America's moral security - the terror of zygoticide-on-demand, the pernicious civil-rightsification of marriage - but recently these watchful wackjobs have faced a far more dire danger: a looming lack of cervical cancer.
A safe, new vaccine threatens to protect women from harmful strains of the human papilloma virus, the primary cause of cervical cancer in the United States. By reducing the risk of sexually-transmitted death, the vaccine threatens to reduce the fear of premarital sex - further staining America's once lily-white purity, already tainted beyond recognition by effective birth control, gay rights, and the repeal of anti-miscegenation laws. Worse still, the dark and perverted forces of Big Health want to make this vaccine mandatory, seducing America's daughters with the possibility of rampant, hedonistic, tumor-free sex. Yes, it may be healthier. Yes, it may save lives. But what use is one's life if one's soul is marred with the unholy blemish of vaginaness? Thus do we learn the stakes of Dobson's Wager: better to repent and die of disease in the name of Hypothetical Heaven then to live a full and healthy life of sin at the risk of Hypothetical Hell. Of course, cervical cancer is only the tip of the iceberg. Were a vaccine to end the AIDS epidemic, could a much more terrifying sex-having epidemic be far behind? If universal health care makes affordable heart surgery available on a widespread scale, would it not make the sin of gluttony that much more tempting? If America hadn't rushed into an ill-conceived imperial venture in Iraq, would the ensuing spike in terror recruitment so focus humanity's thoughts on the hereafter? God created death and disease to provide a divine disincentive against soul-sullying sin. Can America afford to innoculate its children, insure its poor, and make peace with its neighbors if it means not living in fear of an insane, invisible overseer in the sky who barks at his creation in a series of mad, contradictory myths? Absolutely not. God bless the plague!
posted by Medium Lobster at 1:48 PM
In the meantime, Hilzoy's coda to the gutting of habeas corpus needs to be read. Run for your life, terrorists: your innocence won't save you now.
posted by Medium Lobster at 11:48 AM
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
posted by Medium Lobster at 11:33 PM
I'm waitin at the bus stop readin my cereal like I do when I notice the chicken's starin at me. "Hey there chicken," says me. The chicken keeps on starin. "So," I says. "I hear the egg industry's really goin places." The chicken blinks. I cough a little an start lookin at the table a contents. Hmm, potassium sorbate! The bus pulls up. It's the 57 an I'm waitin for the 83 but I get on anyway. The chicken follows me down the street with its silent chickeny eyes.
I know all the big fancy people here at the big fancy cocktail party - the ambassador, the pope, the potato salad - me an that potato salad go all the way back to high school - but I don't know where this chicken came from. "Why imagine seein you here chicken," says me. "What a fascinatin coincidence." The chicken does not reply. I politely excuse myself an mingle away to the other side a the room. "Do you know that chicken?" I says to the hostess. She is a plate of miniature hot dogs and cannot answer. I leave with many troubling questions. I'm walkin home from the Pretzel Colloqium when I hear a bunch a tiny, scratchy footsteps behind me. I stop an turn around. It's the chicken. He's standin about a block away. "Now Fafnir," I says to myself, "this is a main thoroughfare an that chicken's got just as much right to walk here as you do." I take a left. So does the chicken. "Now Fafnir," I says to myself, "that chicken probably just happens to be walkin the exact same route you're walkin." I speed up a little. So does the chicken. The next time I turn around to check on the chicken there's nothin there but the ominous sound a clucking on the night wind. The phone rings. "Hello?" says me. "Gluckl gluckl," says the phone. "Hello?" says me. "Giblets?" "Gluckl gluckl," says the phone. There is a click. The police are unable to effectively trace the call. Chris is knockin on the door sayin he's locked out but we can't let im in without the password. "To prove you aren't the chicken you gotta tell us somethin only the real chicken wouldn't know," says me. Chris is confused. Sorry Chris there can be no exceptions! Chris is left outside to a cold and feathery fate. Oh chicken, is no one safe from your poultrinian madness! "Gluckl gluckl," says the chicken. "I'm worried too, chicken," says me. "I'm worried too." Labels: true adventures
posted by fafnir at 5:44 PM
Friday, November 11, 2005
After eight centuries of ossified due process and doddering dedication to the rule of law, it's refreshing to see Western democracy make the bold leap forward to locking people up forever without charges or legal representation.
In a 49-42 vote, the Senate has voted to strip prisoners in Guantanamo Bay of the ability to challenge their detentions in court. The brainchild of Senator Lindsey Graham1, the amendment aims to free the Justice Department of the messy formality of fundamental rights. Why waste the courts' precious time with pointless technicalities like guilt or innocence? Imprison them all and let waterboarding sort it out. When the War on Terror ends - an outcome which will become inevitable upon the unconditional surrender of Fear and the seizure of Horror's training camps within Greater Spookystan - any enemy combatants remaining may be released to any country of theirs that still exists. But why stop with terror when the same tactics could aid America so much more in its war on crime? A lean, streamlined criminal justice system could skip straight from arrest to imprisonment without the lengthy hassle of a criminal trial, while simultaneously eliminating the dangerous possibility that any guilty suspect could evade justice through the loophole of being innocent. Mr. Graham would protest that at Guantanamo "we are dealing with enemy combatants, not common criminals," but the fact of the matter is that common criminals are far more dangerous. In 2003 alone, over seventeen thousand deaths were the result of homicide in the United States - nearly six times the total domestic body count of terror so far. If we insist on denying the most basic rights of an old man randomly pulled out of an Afghan village, can we ask any less of the three hundred million potential criminals roving America's streets? 1. A special congratulations to Graham and his colleagues in the Senate's Inflatable Saint Caucus, who voted both to outlaw institutionalized torture and to maintain the permanent detention apparatus that will allow institutionalized torture to function after it is outlawed. Kudos, gentlemen!
posted by Medium Lobster at 11:06 AM
Thursday, November 10, 2005
So I'm sittin there on the porch teachin my English For Pineapples class when the mail shows up. Oh the mail, it is so disappointing. Bill bill bill, junk junk junk, mail bomb tuna dwarf-king. "Come with me m'lad and we will slay the hornèd winter-beast and hollow out a mountain of gold!" he says. I heard it all before, dwarf-king. I deposit him in the recycling bin between the newsprint and the aluminum cans. I also get a letter from the Money Man sayin I have already won a billion dollars.
"That can't be right," says me. "I'da remembered if I won a billion dollars." "No you wouldn't," says Giblets. "Your memory is useless like the buffalo!" "That's not fair Giblets," says me in my billion-dollar pile a dollars. "I remember plenty a things, like that time we went to see whosisname and the whatchamathing an that time you tole me I had a great memory on accounta my billion dollars." "Giblets is not sticking around for this again," says Giblets. I figure I oughtta do somethin worthwhile with my billion dollars like give it to a good charity like starvin orphans an leper hobos an leave a little somethin extra for myself like a moon made a gold. On the way I run into Taco Man Stan's Taco Man Stand an I decide to get some lunch. "That's a neat taco," says me. "It's the billion-dollar taco," says Taco Man Stan. "How much is it?" says me. "A billion dollars," says Taco Man Stan. "Sold!" says me. It's a pretty good taco, but I dunno if it's a billion-dollar taco. I also get a Mr. Pib to wash it down which costs an extra seventy-five cents. Taco Man Stan says I'm his one billionth customer which means I win a billion dollars. Congratulations, me! The next day I'm on the porch readin the mail again. Bill bill junk, junk junk thunder god. "Come, take up thy mace and shield and we shalt slay the frost giant Hremnar and free the peoples of the north!" he says. I stick him in the garage for yard sale storage. I also get a letter from the Money Man sayin I have already won a billion dollars. "I don't remember that," says me. "You are hopeless," says Giblets. "Well, I oughtta do somethin with this billion dollars," says me. "But first, who wants a taco!" Labels: true adventures
posted by fafnir at 5:52 PM
Here I was thinkin the riots in France were a result of years of prolonged unemployment and discrimination, but it turns out it all happened cause they're all just naturally crazy muslims who hate freedom. Oh no where will they rampage next!
The terrifying truth is that nowhere is safe from muslims gone wild, which is why here at Fafblog we've come up with a handy guide on how to survive an encounter with a terrifying practitioner of the world's second-largest religion.
posted by fafnir at 3:28 PM
Wednesday, November 9, 2005
So last night we lost Dover, Pennsylvania - but thanks to our good friends in Topeka, Kansas, an increasingly creative interpretation of the word "intelligent" still lives on! In that spirit, Giblets is proud to present, in conjunction with the Kansas Board of Education, a bold new educational theory which will one day enlighten classrooms across the nation, from the utterly foolish to the simply gullible: Intelligent History.
Conventional "theories" of history teach that "stuff happened," which is insolent and implies that we are nothing but random accidents. But Giblets has found definitive proof that history is intelligent, and has worked over the course of millenia towards one singular purpose: the creation of Giblets! Think of everything that had to happen in order for Giblets to be born! Mom Giblets and Dad Giblets had to meet, Grampa Giblets had to flee the great turducken blight back in the Old Country, Napoleon had to destabilize the Gibletsian economy with his unsound policy of weevil regulation. Yes, the birth of Giblets is so unlikely it can only be explained as the supernatural action of a nearly-divine agent acting over the course of thousands of centuries in a way that looks exactly like a bunch of random stuff! This ingenius new theory will revolutionize the way we see history and indeed life itself! What was the cause of the American Civil War? Giblets. Why did Bismarck publish the Ems dispatch? Because of Giblets. What caused the collapse of the Weimar Republic? Political instability and economic depression which would eventually result in Giblets. Looking back on history it becomes obvious that there has been a mysterious plan all along, and that plan has been all about me. And to think you get the honor of learning a theory I thought up myself! Congratulations, you! Intelligent History will become a mandatory element of primary education for all students. Giblets is a tolerant Giblets, however, and will allow alternate theories of history to be taught side by side along with IH. For example, the following intriguing hypotheses may also be valid: Young Earth History. Giblets cannot remember anything happening before he was born - so how does he know it happened at all? The answer: it didn't! The universe was created along with Giblets at the moment of Giblets's birth, and consists of a collection of clever animatronic puppets created for his amusement. Dance for Giblets, universe! Dance for Giblets NOOOOOOW! History Dreamtime. Did history really happen, or is Giblets dreaming it right now? How can he tell? Perhaps you are a figment of Giblets. Are you an offensive figment or a pleasant figment? Discuss. The Egg of History. In the beginning was the Great Galactic Giblets who laid the cosmic egg. Out of it hatched Giblets, who gave birth to Giblets. Then came the Machine Lords! The cycle is never-ending. Labels: super science
posted by Giblets at 9:08 AM
Tuesday, November 8, 2005
Q. Help! I'm still being tortured to death in an American military prison! What should I do?
A. Sigh. We've been through this before. You can't be getting tortured to death because we do not torture. Q. Whew, that's a relief! For a second there I thought I was being forced underwater until near the point of death. A. Ha ha, that's not torture! That's what we call a "freedom dip." Q. Can I be released from this American military prison? A. No, because we can neither confirm nor deny that this military prison even exists. For all we know, you might not even be here! Q. Wow, that'd be great! Any idea where I might be? A. Not a clue! It's a mystery. Q. Gee, I hope I'm home with my family drinking a nice big mug of cocoa. A. You keep that up. Q. I sure - AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! Q. Is this non-torture legal? A. Absolutely. We will beat you, bash your limbs to pulp, and leave you to die of exposure, but we will do so under the law. Q. Congress is trying to ban the cruel, degrading, and humiliating treatment of prisoners in U.S. custody. Will this non-torture be illegal then? A. Of course not, because this non-torture is neither cruel, degrading, nor humiliating. Although we will veto any such legislation if passed by Congress. While we do not torture, we reserve the right to hypothetically torture. Q. Is the CIA agent breaking my legs being cruel, humiliating or degrading? A. The CIA agent breaking your legs is doing so in the most dignified and humane way possible. Q. What about the army officer raping me with a chemical light? A. The army officer raping you with a chemical light will later serve you a delicious meal of orange chicken and rice pilaf. Q. Ooh! And for dessert? A. Death by asphyxiation and a magnificent crème brulée! Q. I can't waAAAAAAAAAAAHH OH GOD Q. Why am I being not-tortured in this non-prison? A. Because you're a dangerous terrorist and an enemy of the United States. Q. Ah! How'd you find that out? A. You told us, right after we started torturing you. Q. You also got me to say I was a duck. A. Ducks are dangerous terrorists and enemies of the United States. Q. And to think I never knew! Who told you that? A. Some duck we tortured. Q. At some point between going to war and beating me to death while I'm chained to the floor in my own feces, do you think you went too far? A. No, because this is a different kind of war. Q. Different because the threat is more dangerous, or different because it's more complex? A. Different because it gives us an excuse to torture people to death in American military prisons. Q. Well, I certainly don't want to stand in the way of defending America. *RRRGGGKK* Or I wouldn't, if I still had the ability to stand. A. It's the least any of us can ask of someone else when they're being tortured to death in an American military prison! Labels: shmorture
posted by Medium Lobster at 5:04 PM
Saturday, November 5, 2005
"All right!" says England. "What're you two doin there with that gunpowder!"
"Why sir I am offended by your implication," says me. "We were just collectin gunpowder for charity." "Yes very true," says Giblets. "Millions of children go without gunpowder to eat every day." "Well that sounds reasonable," says England. "But what's with stickin it under Parliament!" "Well Parliament has so much gunpowder to give," says me. "Yes, especially with all the gunpowder we stuck under it," says Giblets. "Everything seems to check out then," says England. "I'll just need your names and occupations for my report." "My name is Plausible Alias an this is my good friend Bomby McTreason," says me. "And we are violent regicidal conspirators," says Giblets. "No wait! I mean cookie merchants." "Everything checks out then," says England. "Carry on folks!" "Oh no!" says Parliament. "And that's how a bill becomes a law," says me. "Giblets is confused," says Giblets. Labels: jollity
posted by fafnir at 6:51 PM
Thursday, November 3, 2005
Recently the Vice President has come under fire for attempting to legalize torture for the CIA. While this would certainly make things more convenient for the CIA, who happen to be Definitely Not-torturing prisoners already in a secret network of Definitely Not-gulags, one is inclined to wonder at the moral implications of making torture available to this select clique of the intelligence elite, of essentially setting the Central Intelligence Agency above American, international, and moral law. Upon considering it, we must reject this notion: torture, after all, should be the legal right of everyone.
As an instrument used only on the evil people who utterly deserve it, torture has proved an invaluable and ethical tool in fighting terrorists and witches alike. If anything, America could use more torture: with an overstretched military weary and embattled in the long slog of Iraq, it's clear that the War on Terror needs more torturers on the ground. America's torturers can be lost in the line of duty, too - carpal tunnel from lengthy waterboarding sessions, head injuries from tripping over human pyramids - and if the United States doesn't keep a steady supply of trained torturers to replace these weary heroes, how can it expect to maintain the best and brightest organized rape squads in the world? It is deeply disappointing then, that Mr. Cheney is willing to allow only the CIA to utilize this vital anti-terror tool. Indeed, given the recent explosion in global terrorist activity, America needs as many torturers as it can get to track down this mysterious new wave of Islamist recruits. Torture shouldn't just be the tool of the CIA or even the armed forces. It should be the legal right - no, the duty - of every American citizen. It's time to combine the good old-fashioned tradition of American volunteerism with the brand new traditions of forced sleep deprivation and genital electrocution. Fund non-profit torture charities, both secular and faith-based. Support neighborhood watch groups with an eye toward torturing local terrorists. Offer scholarships to college students who pledge to spend four years torturing abroad with the Peace Corps. Parents should get their children involved: bring them to work at the Soviet-era prison camp for a day; teach mandatory waterboarding classes at school. Even more critical than building the torture corps itself is the simple feeling of solidarity that participating in torture generates: an involved America is a strong America. To some this idea will seem quaint, but defending one's homeland is no idle matter, and America needs every helping hand it can get - as long as that hand is turning a thumbscrew. Labels: shmorture
posted by Medium Lobster at 5:31 PM
Tuesday, November 1, 2005
Giblets is outraged... outraged at Democrats who have debased the great institution of the United States Senate today with a shameless political stunt! Instead of focusing on the vital business of womb regulation and gay marriage bans, Harry Reid held the Senate hostage with some trivial piffle about weapons of mass destruction and manipulated prewar intelligence. "Oh the nation has been deceived, oh the president has lied us into a massive military quagmire." Well boo hoo hoo! Do you hear that sound, Democrats? It is the world's smallest violin playing just for being lied into a massive military quagmire. Well, okay, make that two thousand violins. And about twenty-six thousand buzuq for the Iraqis.
Oh how Giblets longs for the good old days of seven months ago, when the stately Bill Frist held court over an emergency session to prolong the life of the famously vegetative, or when the august Rick Santorum compared gay marriage to terrorism on the Senate floor! Instead we must endure the pernicious and terrible tricks of Harry Reid, Mormon from Hell, as he hijacks America's upper house in some petty quest for Congressional oversight! Giblets just doesn't know if he can ever trust him again. Giblets is a Frist man from now on! Next week Giblets is given to understand the majority leader will restore the dignity of the legislature by dressing up in a giant fetus costume and jumping through a hoop of fire in the Capitol rotunda.
posted by Giblets at 6:28 PM
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for your
listening pleasure 
The Apples In Stereo New Magnetic Wonder 
Magnetic Fields Distortion 
Celebration The Modern Tribe 
Man or Astro-Man? EEVIAC
for your
viewing enjoyment
for your
reading edification 
The World Without Us 
The Iron Wall: Israel and the Arab World 
I Shall Destroy All the Civilized Planets 
Invisible Cities 
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