There's One, Only!

Filthy Lie: What is Evil Glenn Looking At?

I was in the back yard, raking up the grass cuttings. I looked over at the still covered pool and thought Almost time to open that up. I’ll have to get my blogless brothers over to help with that.

Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a dark object heading straight for me. I ducked and covered my head with my arms as I realized that it was a pigeon. At the last second, it swerved. Narrowly missing me. It circled around and landed on the fence nearest to me. When I tried to shoo it away, it just sat there with one claw held out to me. It only took me a couple of seconds to notice the cylinder strapped to the bird’s leg. Cool, I thought, a carrier pigeon.

With only a small amount of squawking, the bird allowed me to remove the note from his foot. Too caught up in the novelty of receiving a letter by carrier pigeon, I unfolded the paper and read the message with no qualms.

‘Agent GEBIV, attached, is a picture of Evil Glenn.

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to determine: (1) What is Evil Glenn Looking at in this picture? And (2) What, if any, is the caption for the picture? Unfortunately, due to the laziness of the Alliance Director of Personnel, no Alliance assistance will be available to help you. As always, if you are discovered, we will disavow all knowledge of your actions. So don’t get caught.

‘The picture will not self-destruct, to allow you to use it in your assignment. However, the message will self destruct in 5 seconds.’

As soon as I read those words, I crumpled and threw the paper as hard as I could over the fence. Unfortunately, the pigeon, perhaps thinking that I was sending a reply to the message it had just delivered, swooped down and caught it, inches from the ground. It started flapping hard, and was just about up to head height when it disappeared in a large detonation.

As the feathers slowly drifted to the ground, I realized that it was once again time for another…

MISSION: IMPLAUSIBLE!
(Cue Theme Music)

I called blogless brother Culbrez as soon as I could get to my phone. I figured that this mission was going to require some serious computer hacking, and he was, of course, my first choice for anything requiring computers.

‘Culbrez, I need you to do some computer hacking. Are you at home?’

‘Umm… No.’ Uh oh. This doesn’t sound too good.

‘Where are you?’

‘I’m not sure. I went out for a pizza and kind of got lost.’

Oh well. ‘Do you have your laptop with you?’

‘Of course.’

‘Good. I need you to hack into Evil Glenn’s computer. I have a picture here of him, and I need to know what he was looking at when it was taken.’ I fed the picture of Evil Glenn into my fax machine. ‘You should be getting it in a second or two.’

‘Got it.’ He said. ‘But there’s a problem. I’ve already accessed his computers and I can’t find any pictures or notes on them. The only references I have to pictures are some records of burning CDs. I think he copied them and wiped everything from his hard drive.’

Just great. I knew that this would mean another trip into Evil Glenn’s fortress. My blogless brother had the same thought.

‘Have fun storming the castle.’ He said. ‘When you get in, just pop the CD into his computer and I’ll be able to find what you’re looking for.’

As I hung up, I thought over what would be needed in order to break into Evil Glenn’s fortress. I didn’t want to break in the same way as the last time. I was sure that I couldn’t get in that way anyways. With Slinky the Wonder Ferret visiting his parents for their anniversary, I wouldn’t be able to get by the Attack Rabbits.

Then I had it. I would make an amphibious assault. I called up the plans for Evil Glenn’s fortress. (My blogless brother had downloaded them onto my computer on a previous mission.) It was there, just like I remembered. The drain from his dungeons emptied directly into the bay his castle was built above. With just a little work, I would be able to get inside undetected.

This time I was going to have to get the help of my other blogless brother Mike. He has the most diving experience in the family and I would probably be able to bum a free tank full of air off of him. After talking with him for about 15 minutes and outright lying to him for over half of that, I had convinced him to help me.

We met at his house and then drove to a little cove just down the coast from Evil Glenn’s fortress. I double-checked the equipment, making sure that all of the electronics were well waterproofed. And then, I put on my mask and followed my other blogless brother into the icy water. (Thank God for 6mil wet suits.)

In minutes, we were at the grill covering the mouth of the large conduit. Working with a pair of magnesium cutters, we had an opening in only a few more minutes. Then it was a slow careful swim up the pipe to the heart of Evil Glenn’s dungeon.

We met with no troubles along the way, and we silently climbed out of the dunk pit the waterway had connected to the bay. From there, it was a short climb up the central stairway to Evil Glenn’s computer center. (I guess he likes to keep all of his hobbies close together.) Along the way, I did hear what sounded like the sound of hundreds of underpaid illegal immigrant Chinese computer workers. But I couldn’t locate the source. Besides, that wasn’t my mission this time.

As soon as we entered the computer workroom, my other blogless brother and I split up, searching for the CDs that we hoped had the information that we needed. After a half hour of fruitless searching, my other blogless brother finally found a large case containing hundreds of CDs. We fed them into Evil Glenn’s massive CD changer and I called up blogless brother Culbrez on the HFMP (Hands-Free Mobile Phone) as the changer spun up.

‘Culbrez, we’re loading them up.’ I told him.

‘Got it,’ he said. ‘I found his personal photo album and I’m cross referencing self portraits right now.’

Seconds later he had what we were looking for. ‘OK, the file says that this picture was take of Evil Glenn as he was previewing the new Subway ™ high energy sandwich. Here’s a picture of it:’

He put the image up on the screen of the terminal where I was sitting.

This was just too vile to believe it could exist. But, knowing Evil Glenn culinary tastes, I could see why he would be so enamored with the concept.

‘Oh, and there is a caption too.’ He added. ‘Just one word though.

“Indeed”

'I wonder what that means?’

Before I could formulate an answer, I heard Culbrez say, ‘Hey, what’s in this file marked “Penguins?”’ And then screams of ‘My eyes!!! They burn!!’ and the sound of thrashing and a desk being kicked over, followed by what sounded like the sound of him crashing into a wall. Head first. Over and over...

Just then my other blogless brother came screaming back into the room. While I had been talking to Culbrez he had wandered, unnoticed, into Evil Glenn’s bedroom. What he saw there, I hope to never have to find out. But it was enough to totally scatter his wits.

I don’t know how I was able to get him back into his SCUBA equipment, but eventually, we found ourselves back at the Jeep. I can only suspect that his extensive training allowed him to make it back without actually being in control of his faculties. Fortunately he didn’t have to drive. I just didn’t know how I was going to explain everything to his wife when I dropped him off.

Happy Birthday

It's my other blogless brother's birthday today! He's a whopping 29.

Happy Birthday to you.
Happy Birthday to you.
Happy Birthday to Michael.
Happy Birthday to you!

PGH: Iraqi Document Scandal

I had just made the finishing touches on my new trophy case. After 15 hours of work, the varnish was all dry and it was ready for my priceless Hole-In-One ball. I ran out to my Jeep, where the ball was still locked in the glove box. Normally, I am a relatively calm and collected person, but I was absolutely bubbling with over with a sort of gloating glee. I couldn’t wait to show off the fact that I had hit a Hole In One!

I was walking back to the house, a little bit slower, so to convey the impression of a solemn ceremony. Even with no one watching, I wanted this to be a meaningful occasion. I paused in the light from the door to brush a bit of lint from the precious dimpled surface, and something seemed wrong. I could see a line where the dimple pattern didn’t quite line up. What the…

I gave the ball a little twist to line it back up, and it came apart into two pieces. I was stunned. I had just destroyed the priceless memento of my greatest athletic achievement. Yet at the same time, a little part of my brain was saying, Cool, I’ve never seen what was in the center of a golf ball before. While my ego was dazed, this part took over. Stupid curiosity.

Poking and prodding at the freshly revealed inner core of the ball, I realized that it was paper. Funny, I would have thought that they used some sort of space-age material. A little more poking, and the paper popped out into my hand. The hair was standing up on the back of my neck, but I unfolded it and read…

‘Agent GEBIV, your mission, should you accept it, is to find What further scandals will examination of Iraqi documents reveal? If you refuse to do this mission, you will make me angry… and you don’t want to make me angry, you wouldn’t like it. For this mission, you will have the help of our crack research staff, but only until 5:00PM…’

I quickly checked my watch. 5:03. Nuts

‘After then, you are on your own. Remember, if you are discovered, we will be forced to disavow all knowledge of your actions. So good luck and get going.’

But what about my hole in one ball? I couldn’t believe it, Harvey had destroyed my hole in one ball to send me an assignment. I turned the paper over as I noticed more writing.

‘Oh, if you’re wondering about your hole in one ball, it never existed. We made you believe that you had hit a hole in one on the last mission just to get that assignment to you. Your ball really ended up somewhere in a cow field. I hope you didn’t spend too much time on that trophy case. This ball was then substituted for the one in your Jeep. You really ought to lock your doors more often.’

I was devestated. My shining moment of glory had been ripped from me and crushed before my eyes. What else could go wrong?

‘Of course, this message will self destruct in 5 seconds…’

I crumpled the paper and threw it as hard as I could. Just to be safe, I also threw the remains of the golf ball with it.

As the double explosion lit up the night, I realized that it was once again, time for another hair raising…

MISSION: IMPLAUSIBLE!
(Cue Theme Music)

I grabbed the phone and quickly dialed my blogless brother’s phone. Hopefully, he would be able to give me the technical help I might need. He picked up on the first ring.

‘Hello?’ His voice sounded a little less muddled than the last time.

‘Culbrez, I need your help.’

‘What do you need?’

‘Can you help me hack into the UN computers again?’ I knew that we would need access to the UN files to get at the Iraqi documents.

‘Sure. Meet you there.’ Click.

Well, maybe he wasn’t thinking quite on the same level as me. But I could only hope that he meant to meet him at his house. I drove right over. The pile of mail was gone from in front of his door, so it looked like he had finally found his way home. I went inside and found him sitting in front of his computers.

‘What took you so long?’ He asked when I walked in. I refrained from a snappy comeback. I needed his help too much.

‘Never mind that, I need to find those Iraqi files.’

We started right in on the hacking. Most of the stuff we found wasn’t really news. Things that like the Food For Oil Program, had already been exposed to the world.

And then we found it, the vilest, most nauseating secret that the UN had been covering up. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was quite possibly the most corrupt thing ever put onto a computer. My blogless brother couldn’t handle the onslaught of loathsomeness and ran screaming from the room. Unfortunately, with his hands covering his eyes, he was unable to see where the door was, and ran clean through the wall. Really unfortunately, he ran through an outside wall and we were on the second floor. Luckily, he didn’t damage the shrubs too badly when he hit.

I however, am made of sterner stuff. I forced myself to read the document. After what seemed like hours of torture, I had learned more of evil than I had ever dreamed. The dreadful news, Kofi Annan had been using the Food For Oil Program to fund his attempt to gain control of all of the world’s governments with the intention of setting himself up as world leader. And he was creating this government along the basis of a Broadway musical!

I was able to get this much proof. The new anthem of the world government, to be sung in praise of the Secretary General.

GENERAL:

I am the very model of a Secretary-General,
I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I know the Queen of England, and I cause the fights historical
From Afghanistan to Serbia, in order categorical;
I'm very well acquainted, too, with matters corruptable,
I understand extortion, both the simple and quadratical,
About taking kickbacks I'm teeming with a lot o' news,
With many cheerful facts about hiding all of the loot.

ALL:
With many cheerful facts about hiding all of the loot.
With many cheerful facts about hiding all of the loot.
With many cheerful facts about hiding all of the loot.

GENERAL:
I'm very good at integral and differential calculus;
I use them both to hide all of my personal debt:
In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I am the very model of a Secretary-General.

ALL:
In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
He is the very model of a Secretary-General.

GENERAL:
I know liberal history, Bill Clinton and his Camelot;
I answer hard questions, always with a paradox,
I quote in elegiacs all the crimes of his lovely wife,
Of cronies I can say that they run my life;
I can tell undoubted Raphaels from Gerard Dows and Zoffanies,
I know the croaking chorus from the Frogs of Aristophanes!
Then I can hum a fugue of which I've heard the music's din afore,
And buy them all while saying you don’t do enough for the poor.

ALL:
And buy them all while saying you don’t do enough for the poor.
And buy them all while saying you don’t do enough for the poor.
And buy them all while saying you don’t do enough for the poor.

GENERAL:
Then I can write a dinner bill in Babylonic cuneiform,
And tell you ev'ry detail of a Peacekeeper uniform:
In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I am the very model of a Secretary-General.

ALL:
In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
He is the very model of a Secretary-General.

GENERAL:
In fact, when I know what is meant by "mamelon" and "ravelin",
While I can’t tell at sight a Mauser rifle from a javelin,
When such affairs as sorties and surprises I'm more wary at,
And when I know precisely what is meant by "commissariat",
When I haven’t learnt what progress has been made in modern gunnery,
When I don’t know more of tactics than a novice in a nunnery--
In short, when I don’t have a smattering of elemental strategy,
You'll say a Secretary-General was never as bad as me.

ALL:
You'll say a Secretary-General was never as bad as me.
You'll say a Secretary-General was never as bad as me.
You'll say a Secretary-General was never as bad as me.

GENERAL:
For my lack of knowledge, though I'm plucky and adventury,
Having only one thought since the beginning of the century;
But still, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I am the very model of a Secretary-General.

ALL:
But still, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
He is the very model of a Secretary-General.

The rest of the material was too vile to be related to the rest of the world. Suffice to say, you don’t even want to know what the costumes he was going to force upon the world would have been like. Or who his romantic female lead was… (shudder)

Coincidence?

Here's a little something that has me scratching my head. We just put a Slushy Machine in our convenience store today. This afternoon we had scattered snow showers.

Coincidence? Or not?

War in the Comics

Please don't get me wrong. I like the cartoon Get Fuzzy by Darby Conley. A delightful cartoon with vegetarian Rob and his two pets; Satchel (the slightly dim dog with an inferiority complex) and Bucky (a siamese with a Naplolean complex). I often don't agree with Mr. Conley political views, but I do love his humor. So I look foreward to his cartoon every day.

But I do have to say that I think he missed the point in this cartoon. In response to the character Rob's correction of his father's statement 'Only in America.', I have to say, 'Yes. Only in America.'

We are a country where widely differing cultures are assimilated into our own. Where we make an effort to find the best in everbody and to use it to improve everyone. And I'm not talking about artificial stuff like political correctness (via Harvey). All that does is try to keep everybody separate so people can play one group off of another. But what America is really built on is seen in the differences between groups that survive and are taken into the whole as a new part. Things like pastries and beer and pizza and chinese take out and architecture (Do you think that the Ranch house is a white European concept?) and literature and traditions and... well more than I care to type right now.

It's those 'and's that make America what it is. Not 'Or' like some people want to think. You know, you get this 'or' that, you can be this 'or' that. It's only in America where you can have an Irish beer while you eat Chinese food with a Belgian pastry for dessert while sitting in a Mexican style home while waiting to go out with your friends on Dingus Day (a nice traditional Polish holiday).

/rant

Filthy Lie: What's not on Evil Glenn's website

Ahhhhh, springtime. When a young man’s thoughts turn to… golf.

I hadn’t quite been myself the last few months. And finally, I knew the reason why. I had been suffering from golf withdrawal. The symptoms were obvious enough in retrospect. A tingling of the palms, a twitch of the toes, a habit of yelling ‘Fore!’ whenever I knocked something off of my desk, the urge to watch all 48 hours of the Master’s Tournament…

Yes, I should have diagnosed the problem earlier, but even then, there would have been nothing I could have done about it. The golf courses don’t open until April at the earliest around here. However, the cure was relatively simple; take 18 holes and repeat in the morning.

I had just finished the front nine at my local club and was teeing off on 10. It’s a relatively short course (par 3 on all of the holes) but it had one major advantage. It was open at night, with lights and everything. (A serious consideration with my schedule.) The front nine had showed me how rusty I was, so I was more than a little surprised to see my ball head straight for the pin. I lost the ball in the lights as it started to drop towards the green, but I had a really good feeling about the shot. It just felt right.

I didn’t see my ball on the green as the rest of my foursome walked up to take their second shots. I walked across the putting surface to the sound of the other golfers jealous comments. I looked down into the cup and saw it sitting there. My first hole in one.

I removed the pin and bent over to remove my ball from the cup. As the ball was lifted from the bottom of the hole, I heard a click. I froze in place as I heard that oh too familiar voice come from the hole.

‘Agent GEBIV, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find out what things you will not find on Evil Glenn’s website, 'Instapundit.com'. If you are discovered, we will laugh ourselves sick at your ineptitude. Oh, and we will be forced to disavow any knowledge of your actions. We don’t want to jeopardize our future chances at getting an ‘Instalanche’ after all.

This message will self-destruct in 5…’

Acting purely on instinct, I quickly jammed the flag back into the hole. A satisfying click told me that the message had been stopped mid-countdown. I muttered some apologies to my golfing partners, shouldered my bag and headed back to my Jeep.

As I locked my Hole-In-One ball in my glove box, I realized that it was yet again time for another…

MISSION IMPLAUSIBLE
(Cue Theme Music)

I was just tying my street shoes back up when a small fireball lit up the night. Oops, I guess I should have told them about the hole, I thought as I watched the burning flag pole from the 10th hole arc across the night to splash into the course’s pond. Looks like the 10th hole just got a little larger.

I swung by my house on my way to Evil Glenn’s fortress of terror, pausing only long enough to swap my clubs for Slinky the Wonder Ferret’s luxury travel case. As I drove, I slipped on my Hands-Free Mobile Phone set. I was going to need some help and I hoped my blogless brother could give it. He answered on the fifth ring, just as I was getting worried that he forgot his phone again.

‘Culbrez, you at home?’ I asked.

‘No,’ he replied. ‘I’m still not sure where I am. But I think it might be Italy.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘Well, my phone said “roam” on it when I answered.’

(Groan) ‘Do you have your computer? And can you get online?’

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I’ve got the satellite uplink going right now.’

‘Can you hack into Evil Glenn’s computer for me?’ I crossed my fingers. If he could, it would save me a great deal of trouble. Over the phone, I could hear what sounded like an eyebrow twitching as if to say, ‘What kind of fool are you? You should know by now that I can do anything with a computer.’ I was starting to get really annoyed with that eyebrow.

After a few minutes of the sound of the furious ticking of keys, a much chagrined blogless brother got back on the phone. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I looks like Glenn took his personal computer completely off of the net. His web page is still up, but I can’t seem to find anything not posted on the net. It’s like he has the greatest firewall ever created.’ I shuddered at what this meant, I was going to have to practice a little breaking and entering on Evil Glenn’s fortress. ‘But I do have some good news,’ he continued. ‘I just saved a bunch of money by switching my car insurance to Geico.’

‘What!’

‘Just kidding. But I can break into his security system. I can’t shut it down yet, but I should be able to help you get around it.’

‘OK. I’ll call you back when I get there.’ I hate those stupid commercials. I thought to myself as I disconnected the call. And he knows it.

I drove the rest of the way to Glenn’s stronghold fuming. The silence only broken by the sound of Slinky laughing his furry little butt off. He thinks that little lizard is the funniest thing since the invention of the whoopee cushion.

When I arrived at Evil Glenn’s, I called my brother back. ‘All right, I’m here.’

‘Just head on in.’ He said.

‘But what about the security system?’

‘Oh that. I shut it down about five minutes after you hung up.’

With all of the sensors shut down, it was no problem penetrating to the heart of the fortress. The only living thing we saw on the way in was an attack rabbit that Slinky took care of with no problems at all. (I guess when you blend puppies for a living, it’s kind of hard to keep guard dogs around. On an interesting note, we later learned that this rabbit was a direct descendant of the rabbit that attacked Jimmy Carter.)

When I finally found Evil Glenn’s computer I plopped down into his overstuffed leather swivel chair. Ooh, this is comfortable. I knew that with my blogless brother’s help on the HFMP (Hands-Free Mobile Phone) I would be able to break into the computer in no time at all.

Twenty minutes and forty-five swear words later, I was still staring at a blank screen. Nothing we could do would let us in. We couldn’t even get to a password screen. There was just nothing. It was the best computer security I had ever encountered. I was starting to get really mad when I heard the ferret laughter coming from under the desk.

Grumbling to myself about the inanity of ferret humor, I crawled under the desk to see what had tickled his fancy. Ready to dish out a little discipline if he was just laughing at my attempts at computer hacking. Then I discovered that he had pinpointed the source of all of my frustrations. It looked as if one of Evil Glenn’s attack rabbits had chewed through the power cable to computer. Result: one fried bunny and one completely un-hackable computer.

A quick splice later, and I had the computer running. A few seconds later my brother exclaimed, ‘I’m in.’ over the HFMP. Together, we ran search after search on Evil Glenn’s computer. We had access to all of his files and posts; past, present, and even some future ones.

It was discouraging. No matter what we searched for, we found it. As far as we could tell, he had everything. We did find that he had no actual posts showing any sort of human decency, but he quite often linked to it. After what we considered an exhaustive search, we were forced to conclude that he did indeed (heh) have everything on his site. It was like he had some army of underpaid illegal-immigrant workers cutting and pasting for his website 24 hours a day. It was unfair how many hits his site got, but it was absolutely inhuman how many times a day he was able to post.

We left the bastion of evil as quickly and quietly as we entered. I only stopped for a moment to kick the first attack rabbit a few times on my way out. As I drove off into the night, I thought, just for a second, that I heard the sound of thousands of Chinese sweatshop bloggers crying out for help. But I dismissed it the result of a slightly overactive imagination and not enough sleep.

When I reached my home, it hit me that I may have actually stumbled across Evil Glenn’s biggest secret. It would explain everything. All he would have to do is have those poor oppressed illegal-immigrant workers cut and paste everything in sight and they would only have to know how to write a few actual words. And if ‘Heh,’ ‘Hmmm,’ and ‘Indeed’ were too hard for them to learn, how hard would it be to set up a few macros for them to use?

I realized that I had to rescue those poor souls and save the rest of the blogsphere from Evil Glenn’s… well… evil.

And then Stargate SG1 came on. So I shrugged my shoulders and thought, Oh well. I’m sure that they can take care of themselves.

Road Kill

Well, a fledgling pigeon got run over in the middle of the street in front of work this evening. He'd been walking around the parking lot for a little while and then wandered out into the street. He looked old enogh to fly, but he just wasn't trying to.

I guess it just shows what happens when you are meant to fly but you're too afraid to try your wings... you get run over by a pickup.

Now while I feel bad for the individual pigeon, (I like small animals, I'm a softy that way) I don't feel too bad on a larger level. These things are pests, and there are way too many of them around.

So, anyway, in memorium for the un-named rat with wings, a little song. Some of you might know this old folk song. I have to admit that it was a blast to sing with a Bluegrass/Folk group I sometimes jammed with. Read the extended entry if you dare...

Dead Skunk
Loudon Wainwright III

Crossin' the highway late last night
He shoulda looked left and he shoulda looked right
He didn't see the station wagon car
The skunk got squashed and there you are!

You got yer
Dead skunk in the middle of the road
Dead skunk in the middle of the road
You got yer dead skunk in the middle of the road
Stinkin' to high Heaven!

Take a whiff on me, that ain't no rose!
Roll up yer window and hold yer nose
You don't have to look and you don't have to see
'Cause you can feel it in your olfactory

You got yer
Dead skunk in the middle of the road
Dead skunk in the middle of the road
You got yer dead skunk in the middle of the road
Stinkin' to high Heaven!

Yeah you got yer dead cat and you got yer dead dog
On a moonlight night you got yer dead toad frog
Got yer dead rabbit and yer dead raccoon
The blood and the guts they're gonna make you swoon!
You got yer
Dead skunk in the middle of the road
Dead skunk in the middle of the road
You got yer dead skunk in the middle of the road
Stinkin' to high Heaven!

C'mon stink!

You got it!
It's dead, it's in the middle
Dead skunk in the middle!
Dead skunk in the middle of the road
Stinkin' to high heaven!
All over the road, technicolor man!
Oh, you got pollution
It's dead, it's in the middle
And it's stinkin' to high, high Heaven!

PGH: The 9/11 Commission

I was sitting watching TV after work one evening when the screen suddenly went blank. A hazy silhouette appeared in the center of the screen as I stared at it. The voice was vaguely familiar as it started talking, but I couldn’t place who it was at first.

‘You are probably wondering why you’ve been contacted this way. Frankly, we just wanted to try out some really cool signal interrupt equipment that we just bought on e-bay. But down to business.

‘Agent GEBIV, your mission…’

Oh it’s just Harvey

‘…if you choose to accept it, is to find out the ways that have been proposed to improve the 9/11 Commission. If you are discovered, of course we will be forced to disavow any knowledge of your actions. We don’t want to have to testify before those hacks any more than anyone else. Of course, we will reserve all film rights to help finance future Alliance activities.

‘As usual, this message will self destruct in 5 seconds.’

My TV!

*BOOOOOM*

I flipped the coffee table on it’s side and hit the floor behind it as my television exploded in a shower of sparks and molten glass. Well, I thought to myself, it looks like its time… to buy that HD Widescreen TV I’ve had my eye on.

I also knew that it was time for yet another…

MISSION IMPLAUSIBLE
(Cue Theme Music)

This mission would involve some pretty tricky work. My blogless brother was out of town. He was still trying to figure out where he lived. And with the head injuries, his sense of direction wasn’t too good. I didn’t figure that I’d see him until somebody noticed the address pinned to his jacket and shipped him home.

It looked like I was going to have to go this alone. Well, maybe not completely alone. After his brilliant help on the last Alliance assignment, I decided that Slinky the wonder ferret, would be a good asset on this mission.

I packed him into his luxury travel home and hopped into the Jeep. It looked like we were going to where all of the planning and decisions on the 9/11 Commission were being made. The DNC Headquarters.

I didn’t feel like driving all of the way to Washington D.C., so I drove over to the next best place, the local Hippy Headquarters. This was a nighttime mission, so I didn’t think that hippy camouflage would be required. Besides, I wasn’t going through the front door anyways.

When I got there, I parked in the back. Slinky climbed up on my shoulder as I got out of the Jeep. Ouch. Time to trim somebody’s nails, I thought. But no time for that now, I’ve got a mission to accomplish.

We quickly snuck in through the servant’s entrance. It had proved in the past to be a very good way to gain access to the compound before. We quickly headed up to the top floor where the records offices were. Unfortunately, this time the door was locked. I figured that they had some secrets that they didn’t want getting out.

Spying a nearby air duct, I got an idea. Using my handy-dandy Swiss army knife, I quickly pried the cover off of the duct. ‘OK Slinky, it’s up to you,’ I said. ‘Just work your way through there and unlock the door.’

He scampered down the vent with all of the sounds of a dog chewing an aluminum can. About 10 minutes later, he was back. Giving me a dirty look, he pantomimed not being able to get out of the vent into the records office because of the cover at the other end.

While I was trying to figure out how he could use my Swiss army knife to open the cover, he bounced across the floor to the cat flap in the door. ‘Or you could do that,’ I said. I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye as I opened the now unlocked door.

This time, I knew where to find what I was looking for. I went straight for the ‘S’ section and pulled the ‘Stupid Ideas’ file. After a few seconds of riffling through the folder, I found what I needed. A memo from the DNC to the Commission on ways of improving.

To: Partisan members of the 9/11 Commission

From: DNC Headquarters

RE: Ways of improving the usage of the Commission, or at least the TV ratings

It has come to our attention that the 9/11 Commission has been accused of being a partisan witch-hunt with no regard to actual useful results. While this is true, it has hurt our ratings and no one is watching us; and that is of course, the whole reason for having it.

To help or ratings, our think tank has come up with the following suggestions:

Blame Rush Limbaugh for everything.

Force the witnesses brought before the Commission to be handcuffed and tied to the chair

Use a bright light pointed directly in their faces

Create the 9/11 Commission drinking game; one drink for every interruption by a questioner, two drinks for every foot in mouth, etc.

Every time the witness says something you disagree with, weather the truth or not, zap them with electrodes hidden in the chair.

Subpoena famous sports figures for no reason. Allow them to make any political speech they want as long as it aligns with standard liberal propaganda.

Announce that the when a donkey symbol flashes on the screen, the 10th caller to say ‘I love Liberals’ wins $1000.

While none of these suggestions will change the appearance of partisan politics, they should help us compete with all of the other ultra liberal programming on the air. After all, we aren’t intersed in the people who want to see a fair and balanced investigation.

I was stunned. They had stolen my idea for the drinking game.

Slinky and I quickly left the building. We knew that we had to get this information back to Alliance HQ in a hurry.

Plus, I had to trim Slinky’s nails.

I'm on the Brute Squad

Well, I guess that I can make rhymes
But only some times.

Which Princess Bride Character are You?
this quiz was made by mysti

Saw this over at Susie's. Guess it'll be all over the blogsphere in a day or two.

In real life however, I'm kind of short.

The President has left Buffalo

President Bush was in town today to talk to a group of law enforcement officials about the Patriot Act. Not being one of them myself, I was not at the invitation only event, but I did manage to forget all about it untill early this afternoon.

Of course the visit made front page news, but you have to cry a little about the coverage. Only one of the two articles actuall made any mention of what he spoke on. And that one had almost as much about the protesters as the article solely devoted to the protest.

My favorite quote was from some guy who complained that the protesters had to stay on the other side of the parking lot from Kleinhan's Music Hall where the event was held. OK, let me get this straight. You've got a couple hundred people who are literally calling for George Bush's head, and you want security to let them any closer? I'm all for Free Speech, but you have to be realistic.

And where do you think the protesters would have been put if it was a Democrat President? In this Democrat controled city, you'd be lucky if you were within sight of the location, much less shouting distance.

Speaking of Democrat control, the mayor of Buffalo, Tony Masiello, decided to protest the President by not showing up. Apparently, he and his political croneys blame the Bush presidency for Buffalo having a Control Board put over it. Yeah right. The 40+ years of good ol' boy Democrats running this city and county in the ground had nothing to do with it. Our population base gets a little smaller every year, so instead of backing off services, they just raise the taxes a little more and more. We've got the one of the highest sales taxes in the state and some of the highest property taxes as well.

No wonder everyone is leaving. You can't have much more of a business unfriendly environment than we do here. But you know how it is, when you have people out of work, you've got to soak the evil businesses that have all the money.

Even better, we have the most unionized city in the country. Pretty hard for a business to come in if it knows that if it doesn't unionize right from the get-go, ot probably won't even get a building permit.

OK. /rant

Meet Rufus!

There was a new addition to the GEBIV extended family. My other blogless brother Mike and his wife Meg just got home with their new addition. Unfortunately, I live in Buffalo and they live in Rhode Island, so this is the first I got to see him too.

I've got Rufus' picture in the extended entry.

Isn't that the most spoiled thing you've ever seen?

The customer isn't always right...

Susie over at Practical Penumbra has a little contest going. It's simple, just relate your worst first hand customer experience. Leave your entries in her comments. Or, if you don't have any of your own, just have a chuckle at what's already there.

My entry... well, I'll put it in the extended entry.

One of my jobs in the family business involves waiting on customers at our automated car wash. This is a conveyor wash which involves guiding the customer onto the track and stopping them at a specific spot. There have been many poor drivers who don't listen to the shouted directions, but usually you can get them on the track with out too much difficulty.

But the absolute worst customer I had pulled up on a very busy day and apparently thought that we should take the car through for him. So he simply got out of his car with the engine running and with it still left in drive.

I had to chase it down the car wash tunnel, dive into the open door, and put it into nuetral before it hit the car in front of it. Almost broke both of my legs as they were half out the door as I was dragged through the car wash.

Weather or not...

I like the weather here in Buffalo. We actually get Weather, not just climate.

You’re probably wondering just what on earth I’m talking about. Let me ‘splain.

In some parts of the country, your weather is really just climate. It is always the same, day after day, with only small, subtle differences at different times of the year. These places don’t even have seasons, unless you count tourist season. Take Florida for example; you have hot/hot, then hot/humid, then hot/wet. I know that people who live there probably don’t consider highs in only the 80s to be hot, but let’s face it, the rest of the country is in shorts when they are wearing parkas.

But Buffalo, on the other hand, has Weather. That’s right, with a capital ‘W.’ And we have seasons too. Sometimes all four in one week. I’m serious. Just two weeks ago, we went from 70 deg. weather on Monday to 6” of snow, and temps in the 20s on Thursday. With rain on the days in between.

But what got me on this little weather rant was our first thunderstorm of the season. To me, that was the real indication that it was finally spring. I don’t go by the calendar (sometimes spring is early or late), and the groundhog is usually wrong (Come on, he’s only right about 45% of the time. Shouldn’t the whole thing about his shadow be reversed? It would actually be more accurate.) But I digress…

However, the first thunderstorm really means that the seasons have changed. And a good thunderstorm doesn’t even last that long around here. Today’s storm rolled in about 11:30 and was gone by 12:30. The sun is starting to come out and the temperature is already heading up to the forecast high of 70.

I can see trees starting to bud and the grass looks like it will need mowing soon. It looks like a good day.

New Logo

Well, my blogless brother has made me a logo. Probably in an attempt to keep from getting more head injuries. What do you think?

He also helped me with the code to center 'Day by Day'

And for anyone who is complaining about the background color, that's the actual color of my Jeep. (With a metalic undercoat) And it looked so good on the Jeep, that I thought I'd share it with everyone.

Tax Day! Buy a Gun!

Wow, I got my taxes done early this year. I finished printing them up in time to give them right to my mail-man this morning. Usually I need to make a special trip to the post office in the afternoon.

I'm sad to say that I will not be able to make this a personal 'Buy A Gun Day.' I have to work the rest of the night and won't be able to make it to any store untill Saturday at the earliest. But I did want to buy one.

But I'm 'Dealing With It'

Between my Federal and State returns I had $332 to spend. $331 from Federal and $1 from State. Somehow, I don't think that New York is going to get around to mailing me a check though.

PGH Roundup...

is up at Alliance HQ. Make sure you check it out. There were a lot of entries this week, so check them all out.

It seems that great minds think alike. There were an awful lot of similar answers.

And yes, I am aware that a lot of my taglines made absolutely no sense. That was the point.

PGH: Tagline For Air America

It was a dark and stormy night. Thunder flashed and lightning rolled across the land. Suddenly there was a scream…

I bolted upright in bed. Last time I read old Snoopy cartoons before bed, I thought. I got up to get a glass of water to steady my nerves. As I walked by the door to my office, I noticed a tape recorder sitting on my desk. That shouldn’t be there. I thought I left that in the fridge. Too fuddled to think clearly, due to lost sleep, I pressed the play button.

*Beep* ‘Agent GEBIV, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find possible taglines for the new liberal radio’s Air America website. If you refuse to accept the assignment, the Alliance will be forced to tell the IRS about those *ahem* business deals you had last year. Of course we will disavow all knowledge of your actions if you are caught while attempting this mission. Kinda a one way deal here, eh?

Oh, by the way, the chair you are sitting in will self destruct in 5 seconds…’

My chair!?

*BOOM*

I dove over the desk just as the chair exploded into foam and plastic shrapnel. The back of the chair arced up and over and came down directly on the erase button on the tape recorder, deleting the message.

Man… that was my favorite swivel chair.

I slipped into some dark clothes as I realized that it was yet again time for another…

MISSION: IMPLAUSIBLE
(Cue Theme Music)

My blogless brother was still laid up from our last mission together, so I knew that I would have to do this one on my own. So instead of hacking in through the computer from the safety of home, I would have to physically enter the den of liberal whackos.

I ran out to the driveway and hopped into my Jeep. Then, realizing that I didn’t have my keys and that I had locked myself out of the house, climbed back in through a window to find them. This should be good practice for breaking into the Liberal Radio Headquarters.

Once I had found my keys, I drove straight to the LRH. I knew right where to go. From my previous mission to infiltrate the Hippy Headquarters, I knew that the Liberal Radio Headquarters was in an adjoining building. Breaking in would be easier as I now knew the security arrangements.

I parked next to the telephone pole I had used on my last escape from this compound. I thought that it might come in handy again. I looked at the building. It was the middle of the night and it was completely lit up. Apparently energy conservation is something that they preach, not practice. That would also explain the fleet of large SUV’s parked in front of the building.

Finding a part of the wall in shadow, I quickly scaled it and was inside the compound. I looked around and found the perfect entry to the building. The servant’s entrance. I knew that they would never bother with anyone that far below their notice.

Once inside the building, it was a simple matter to find the main office. All I had to do was go to the top floor and look for the biggest office. I guess that status symbols are very important to some people. I crossed the half-acre office and searched the desk. Finding anything in that desk would be a matter of luck. (The thing was large enough to land small aircraft on.) But I searched anyway.

Fortunately, for the sake of plot progression, I hit the jackpot. In the desk I found a memo entitled ‘Possible Taglines for the Air America Website.’

Possible Taglines for the Air America Website.

All the news that’s unfit to print.

All the fits that are news.

We are the Anti-Rush.

What happens when you tie both halves of your brain behind your back.

If you didn’t here it here, it could be the truth.

Soft money for Kerry.

The Soros propaganda service.

The fifth column.

Waaaaaaaaaah!

Feelings, nothing more than feelings.

Let us do the thinking for you.

Spatula City!

Unbalanced. Unfair. Unclear.

Look, we’re not wearing pants!

Who’s your daddy!

Interns always welcome.

We’re all doomed!

Bad things man… bad things!

There is no spoon.

We have the answer. Now, what was the question?

Don’t you ever feel like whining? Well, we do. All the time.

The left of the story.

Saying all the things the mainstream media wishes they could get away with.

Our truths are stranger than fiction.

Our truths are fiction.

We don’t even have to try to appear objective.

Mmmm… Pies.

No, we’re not associated with the CIA airdrops of supplies to anti-communist Vietnamese.

Twisting the truth for our benefit.

How to get around campaign finance laws in 5 easy steps.

America Errs.

A little spoonful of sugar helps the lie go down.

You want fries with that.

Tax tax tax tax…

Nooooo… please don’t change the channel.

We’re not in it for the ratings. Obviously.

As I read through them, I couldn't help but think What are these people on? But mine was not to understand these people, but to report back what they did.

I quickly photocopied the memo using my handy portable scanner, (don’t leave home without it) and left the office.

My exit was totally uneventful. I guess that with the programming done for the day, no one bothered to stay around but the cleaning staff. And they were pretty easy to avoid. Oh well, I had been looking forward to sliding down the phone line again, but it wasn’t necessary.

When I got home and started typing up the report, my ferret, Slinky, climbed up on the keyboard and wrote out his own little tagline.

‘ollllllllllllllllllllllu76dffffffffffffff77ufgvdru8888888piupllllluij’

Might as well put it in, I thought. It made as much sense as some of the other possibilities I had found. And as much sense as some of the things that they say, too.

Day By Day

Yay, I finally got around to putting 'Day By Day' up on this site. (If you haven't read this really good cartoon by Chris Muir, go on over to his site and read all of the past strips.)

Now I just have to get off my can and work on getting my old archives over here from blogspot.

And then... colors?

Good reading

For those of you who don't know about him, Rich Galen is a political pundit who is currently working for the State Department in Iraq. He normally has a three-time a week column that he posts on the internet. But while he is working for the Government, he is only doing a Sunday post each week.

I like it because it shows a little of what the US is trying to do over there on behalf of the Iraqis. He also often writes about the people who are doing it.

So, his page, Mullings, is now in the links section of my sidebar. I highly recomend his writing.

A Filthy Lie: Evil Glenn's Easter Plans

I was humming to myself as I collected the mail from the street-side. Bill. Bill. Bill. Billlll.(Beethoven’s Fifth) And then I saw it. A letter from the Alliance. When did they start using snail-mail? That’s when I realized that it was time for another Alliance assignment.

With a growing uneasiness, I cut open the envelope and read the message.

‘Agent GEBIV, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find out how Evil Glenn plans on spending his Easter. This mission may be extremely perilous, so be careful, The Alliance can’t afford to be paying any more medical bills. Because of this, if you are discovered, or find yourself in any difficulty whatsoever, we will be forced to disavow all knowledge of your actions.

Cheapskates.

This message will self-destruct 10 seconds after you opened the envelope.’

Oh no!

I threw the paper to the ground and covered my ears, mentally preparing myself for the worst. With a little hissing noise and a small flare of brightness, the paper burnt to ashes.

Phew. Just a little flash-paper. That’s more like it.

I crushed the ashes of the letter into the ground with my foot and walked to my Jeep. I knew that it was time for another…

MISSION: IMPLAUSIBLE
(Cue Theme Music)

I drove straight over to my blogless brother’s house. This mission sounded like it was going to require some computer work, and there was no way that I was going to hack into Evil Glenn’s computer from my own. I knocked and knocked on his front door, but there was no answer. His car was sitting there on the street, but it didn’t seem as if he was home. I went around to the side entrance to see if he had left it open and found the door kicked off of it’s hinges.

Who could have done this?

Upon closer examination of the shattered door, I could just make out the impression of a ‘$’ from the heel of the boot that kicked in the door. Oh no, I thought, they have him. It was worse than any nightmare, my brother had been taken. By… the… IRS!

I told him he couldn’t claim his cats on his taxes. They’re much too independent for them to be deductions.

Now I had to rescue my brother as well as find out what Evil Glenn was going to be doing on Easter. This was turning out to be a very full day.

I checked under the back seat for the emergency kit and saw that everything was in place. Then it was off to the Federal Building. Hopefully, I still remembered enough from watching ‘MacGyver’ to be able to break into a heavily fortified government building.

When I got to the Federal Building’s parking lot, I made careful note of where the do not exit spikes were. I’d learned that lesson the hard way, years ago. I parked right up next to the building and grabbed the emergency kit. It was time to face the monsters.

45 minutes later I was walking out of the building with my brother in tow. It had taken every donut in the box, but I had finally convinced them to let him go. After explaining all of the head injuries he had suffered in the last few months, they had given him the benefit of doubt on his tax reforms. The only real concession they had forced on us was that my blogless brother had to wear a helmet whenever he was with me.

We drove back to his house, stopping only briefly at a sporting goods store to get him some adequate head protection. Once there, we quickly set up the computers and started hacking into Evil Glenn’s files.

As before, we headed straight for his day planner. And there it was, his itinerary for April 11, Easter.

April 11, 2004

Sleep in. It’s a holiday.

I couldn’t believe it. All that work for practically nothing. I stormed out of the computer den in disgust just as my blogless brother clicked on the entry for Monday. His screams brought me running back.

‘Ahhhhhhhhhh. My eyes, they burn…’

Fortunately, I didn’t see what had caused the pain to my blogless brother as his computer imploded into a miniature black hole. I grabbed the doorframe to keep from being sucked in and hooked a toe on my brother’s belt as he started sliding forward. I knew that if I could just hold on for a few seconds, the black hole would compress itself out of existence, which it did. But not before sucking the helmet off of my blogless brother’s head.

He was nearly pulled into the black hole when it finally winked out of our universe. Too bad he wasn’t ready for the sudden cessation of force. He was flung backwards into his bookshelf. We had learned the lesson of storing bowling balls on the top shelf the week before.

Apparently this is also true of dumbbells.

Cox and Forkum...

have some really great political cartoons. Along with some good analysis of what the cartoon is about. Check out their latest here. I like the quote at the bottom of the entry from the head of the Marines First Division, General James Mattis.

"If they barricade themselves inside a mosque, we are not going to care about the mosque anymore than they do," Mattis said. [Emphasis added]

Carnival of the Vanities

The complete Carnival is up at Leaking Pure White Noise. And Ross did a nice little Oscar like presentation.

I haven't read most of the entries yet, but as this is a Carnival and not a Bonfire, I'm sure that they are worth the time to read.

PGH: Know Thy Enemy - Terrorists

It was sitting there on the dining room table when I walked through the door. A tape recorder. Uh oh, I figured there would be another assignment soon. With more than a little trepidation, I pushed the play button.

*Beep* ‘Agent GEBIV, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to add to the knowledge of terrorists. You must help us Know Thy Enemy a little better.’

Well, that doesn’t sound too hard.

‘This recording will self destruct in …’

I quickly hit the stop button, halting the countdown. Intensely pleased over that bit of quick thinking, I realized that it was time for another…

MISSION IMPLAUSIBLE
(Cue Theme Music)

I figured that I was going to need my blogless brother’s help again. This could take some serious computer work. I called the hospital where he had been recovering from our last misadventure. They told me that he had just been released and was on his way home. Well that was probably good news. As long as he could still remember where his home was.

A few moments later, much to my surprise, there was a knock at my door. It was the blogless brother himself. Apparently he got lost on the way home from the hospital and was just able to remember where I lived. He also couldn’t remember that I was the reason why he had been in the hospital in the first place. Ahh, the blessings of head injuries.

We set up his laptop, plugged into the Internet and started hacking. Unfortunately, we had absolutely no idea where to start looking. After a couple of hours of random websites, and 73 different popups for mail order Iraqi brides, we decided that a more methodical approach was needed.

A flash of inspiration hit me. Let’s check out the computers at Homeland Defense. If anyone would have a good listing of what terrorists were, it would be them. We were in luck, there were several previously unknown things about terrorists there. We quickly noted them down.

Next, we tried looking into the FBI computers. Then I realized that we were hooked up to my phone lines, so any tracking of our inquiries would show up at my doorstep. Not something that I was hoping for, so we tried another track. Why not look on the computers of terrorist sympathizers?

We snuck into Michael Moore’s personal files, but found nothing of any use there. Then we tried the computers of every left-wing actor and actress we could find. A few hits here and there, but nothing really useful.
At one point, we even hacked into the computers of Iranian Intelligence. While there were hundreds of names and addresses of terrorists, there was very little in the way of information about terrorists as a group of people.

But eventually, after nearly two days of constant computer work, we had enough information to pass along to Alliance HQ. (Please forgive us if some of these are already known.)

What we found out about terrorists:

Many terrorists have explosives strapped to themselves, so it is recommended to use long range weapons against them. Like .50cal sniper rifles.

Terrorists often use deception. If you ask someone if they are a terrorist and they say ‘no’ be careful. They could be lying.

If they tell you they are a terrorist, be careful, they could be telling the truth.

Terrorists don’t like dogs. So if you know someone who didn’t cry at ‘Old Yeller,’ they may be a terrorist.

Al Qaeda has a little known sub-group known as Al Gebra. They have been known to use protractors and compasses as weapons of math instruction.

If someone is running down the street with a stick of dynamite yelling Jooooooooos, they are probably a terrorist.

If someone is running down the street with a cup of juice yelling Dy-no-mite, it is probably JJ Walker.

Just because someone cheered about 9-11 doesn’t make them a terrorist. Many people are just really, really stupid.

Anyone who gets between me and coffee will be treated as if they were a terrorist.

Same thing about chocolate.

And Jelly Belly jelly beans.

(Sorry, got off on a tangent there.)

Many terrorists want John Kerry to win the presidency. So until proven otherwise, assume that all Kerry supporters may be terrorists.

Terrorists like to blow things up. So do I. (Umm. No connection that I can see.)

Terrorists like to blow people up. (Big difference there) So anyone trying to tape explosives to your leg is probably a terrorist.

Terrorists think that the US of A is evil. So does Michael Moore. Draw your own conclusion.

Terrorists are afraid of being contaminated by pork. So being a pig farmer is the safest occupation from terrorists in the world.

Terrorists are often heard rooting for the wolf during readings of ‘The Three Little Pigs.’

And finally, many terrorist’s greatest desire is to die for their cause. Let’s help them out.

As I finished up my report, my blogless brother packed his things and prepared to leave. In the living room, I heard him call from the kitchen.

‘Hey, when did you get this new tape recorder?’ he asked as I heard the click of the play button being pressed. ‘2…1…’

‘No! don’t…’

*KABOOM*

The explosion threw him back into the living room, over the couch and headfirst through the Lazy-boy. As he pulled himself out of the wreckage of my favorite piece of furniture, he overbalanced and slammed backwards into the bookshelf, jarring the collection of bowling balls on the top shelf which rolled off the end and with a series of coconut on coconut like sounds, bounced off of his already abused head.

Oooh, that's going to leave a mark. Hmm... looks like he’s gonna get more frequent flier miles on the hospital’s helicopter too.

More banjokes

Did you hear the one about the banjo player who locked his keys in the car?
It took him over two hours to get the bass player and the drummer out.

Then there was the other time he locked his keys in the car.
Everything was ruined because it rained and the top was down.

What's the difference between an onion and a banjo?
No one cries when you cut up a banjo.

What's the difference between a banjo and a chainsaw?
You can tune a chainsaw.

(And my favorite)
How can you tell when the stage is level?
Because drool is coming out of BOTH corners of the banjo player's mouth.

Shameless Kissing Up

Susie,

Is this enough violets?
(In the extended entry)

1000th Visitor

As near as I can tell, based on the when the comments came in and the fact that I was visitor 1001 when I checked them, Susie was my 1000th visitor.

Yaaaaay. I got to 1000.

Now I've got to do something nice for her I suppose.

By the way

For those who have just discovered me, I do have some stuff back on blogsot that I haven't moved over yet. If you don't want to wait to read it, just click on over to the old There's One Only!

Some say that the Mission Implausible stories are pretty good.

A little Test

Just trying something I've always wanted to do online.

In the Extended Entry should be a picture of Slinky.

View image

Isn't he just so cute?

Is there a Munuvia Mascot yet?

My first entry...

Well, thanks to Pixy for setting this site up so far.

And Special Thanks to Madfish for nominating me, and Susie for seconding the nomination.

I hope that I can maintain the low standards that everyone expects.

Jabberwocky

Lewis Carroll

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
did gyre and gimble in the wabe.
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
the frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the maxome foe he sought-
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood a while in thought.

As in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came.

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack.
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

"Has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Calloh! Callay!
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.