July 19, 2005


Ann Coulter must read my site! She used my Mission: Implausible! concept for the title of one of her columns.

Or maybe it's just a coincidence...

Posted by GEBIV at 10:22 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

July 08, 2005

Filthy Lie: Frank J.

Hmm. What to drink? I was standing in the beverage aisle of my local supermarket, looking for something to quench my thirst. I didn't have a real preference for anything, so I let myself be persuaded by the "You could win $$$$$" display next to one of the brands of soda. I grabbed a couple of bottles and headed to the checkout.

I knew better than to drink in the checkout line, but as soon as I walked out the door into the parking-lot, I twisted one of the tops off.

Sorry, Try Again!

Yep, I was still a looser. But it wasn't a total loss. At least I had something to drink. Too bad it tasted like sewage.

A few hours later, I had forgotten how bad the first bottle had tasted, and pulled the other out of the fridge. This time when I looked at the bottle cap, my luck was a bit different...

Agent GEBIV, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find out one of Frank J.'s darkest secrets. Barring that, just make something up. If you are captured, or discovered, I will of course disavow all knowledge of your activities. Frank J. is a good friend after all, so there is no way that I could be seen condoning this kind of thing. (But make sure you get something really juicy!)

- H

This message will self destruct in 10 seconds...

Wow, that's some small writing! I thought as I threw the cap into a small blast-proof box that I kept for just such occasions.


As I watched the smoke drift out of the box and sipped the medical-waste tasting beverage that had been advertised as "light and refreshing", I knew it was once again time for another...

(Cue Theme Music)

I figured my best bet was to get some embarrassing pictures of Frank J. or something like that. So I grabbed my digital camera, and strapped on my portable Way-Back Machinetm. I might as well start at the beginning. More chances for embarrassing photos. I thought, as I set the targeting computer to "Frank J.'s Birth". I punched the "GO" button, and the room around me spun away.

Moments later (or years earlier, depending on your frame of reference) I found myself in a dirty hospital... actually, it was a dungeon! There was a bunch of medical equipment, and figure covered by a sheet on an operating table, but the stone walls and floor, as well as the manacles hanging from the ceiling, practically screamed dungeon.

And it looked a little familiar.

Then it hit me! It was Evil Glenn's dungeon. The manacles weren't quite as rusty as the last time I was there. And there wasn't as much clotted blood around the drains as I remembered. But it was definitely the same dank chamber that I remembered. Just a little newer.

I heard footsteps coming down the steps, so I quickly hid in one of the many convenient dark alcoves. (Hey, dungeon architecture does have it's advantages.) Moments later, Evil Glenn entered the room. He didn't look much younger than usual, but I figured that was just a result of his being an undead, blood sucking... lawyer.

He pulled the sheet off the figure on the table, but was standing in just the wrong spot so that I couldn't see who it was. I heard him muttering to himself as he worked at the table. "Hmmmm.. Heh... Indeed!"

Suddenly, he stood back and shouted. "I've done it! You are my greatest creation! Together we will rule the Blogosphere!"

With that, the figure on the table sat up. It was Frank J.! I couldn't believe my eyes. Frank J. was an android built by Evil Glenn to help him control the Blogosphere!

Evil Glenn turned Frank J. around and flipped open a panel on the back of Frank's head. In typical Evil Scientist fashion, he narrated himself as he worked. "Now, all I have to do is set your loyalty level so that you will be my slave forever!" Using a long screwdriver, he was making some sort of adjustment.

I knew that I had to have proof of what I was seeing, so while Evil Glenn was making his adjustments, I snapped a picture. Unfortunately, I forgot to turn off the flash.

The camera flash must have startled Evil Glenn, because something went wrong with his adjustments. A spark, brighter than the flash from my camera, leapt from the inside of Frank J.'s head, and nearly melted the screwdriver in Evil Glenn's hand!

This must have done some damage to whatever Evil Glenn was working on since Frank J. immediately pushed him away and shouted, "I'll never work for you, you foul monster! In fact I will dedicate my life to defeating your control of the Blogosphere!"

Then, as he ran out of the dungeon, he proclaimed, "Now, I'm off to find a T-shirt babe!"

Evil Glenn then turned to me with murder in his eyes. "I'll get you for this, whoever you are!"

I spun the dial on my portable Way-Back Machinetm back to the present and returned to now. Back in my own home, I checked the travel log on the Way-Back. I had only gone back and forth a little over 3 years!

But I had the proof that Frank J. is just an android who has turned on his creator! It's this picture right here:

Image Hosted by ImageShack.us

Whoops! That's a picture from Harvey's last Comment Party. I don't know how that got in there.

I'm sure I can find the picture I want.... It's got to be here somewhere!

Rat's! I can't find it. You'll just have to believe what I said is true. Of course it is. It's not like this is all just a Filthy Lie.

Posted by GEBIV at 11:19 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

July 01, 2005

Filthy Lie: Evil Glenn's Fourth of July

I jumped out of the lawn chair I had been sitting in as soon as I saw the truck turn the corner onto my street. He was late. I had been sitting there for almost three hours, and the UPS delivery was usually there by 10. I checked my watch. It was almost 10:15!

I tried to walk nonchalantly out to the big brown delivery vehicle, but I think my enthusiasm might have been showing just a little. It was probably the Dukes of Hazzard slide across the hood of my Grandfather's Caddy that gave me away. The delivery guy grinned at me while I signed his little computer and said, "Hmm, excited to get this?"

Of course I was. I'd been checking the tracking on the shipment every two hours since I ordered it the week before from an online store out of Wisconsin, and every hour since it had been shipped the day before. I was as giddy as a small child on Christmas morning!

"Not really," I lied. Then I snatched the package out of his hands and ran back to my house. I think I giggled a little bit, but I'm sure he couldn't hear me.

It was murder waiting for darkness. But eventually ...finally, night fell. And at last, I was able to set it up. The SUPERNOVA 5000. This baby was guaranteed to blind everyone looking at it in a five mile radius! For at least 3 hours! The fireball from one of these was once seen by astronauts in the International Space Station.

I could hardly wait.

First, I set up the launch pad in the back yard with the rocket/firework/bomb all prepped up and ready to go. Then I put on a heat reflective suit, asbestos gloves, and a welding helmet as I got ready to light it off.

Then I fell in the pool.

Well, at least this should make me a little less flammable, I thought after I had climbed out of the pool. Unfortunately the welding helmet had sunk to the bottom of the deep end, and was for the moment irretrievable. I figured that I would just have to make do without it.

Finally, the moment I had been waiting for arrived. I lit the fuse and dove behind a table I had sitting on edge across the yard from the pad. I covered my head and waited for the sound of the rocket launching.


What? I couldn't believe it, the firework was a dud! Then it made a little *POP* sound and a single sheet of paper fluttered out of the top.

With a morbid sense of doom, I picked it up and read:

Agent GEBIV, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find out what Evil Glenn will be doing for the Fourth of July this year. If you are discovered or captured, don't worry. I've heard that Glenn has been mellowing a little bit lately. You'll probably even survive.

This message will self destruct in 10 seconds..."

I angrily crumpled up the paper and threw it away. What a rip-off! I knew I shouldn't have ordered something from a site called Bad Explosions.com, I thought to myself. And now I have to go on a...


-Three hours later, when my vision returned, I realized that it was once again, time for another...

(Cue Theme Music)

Since by now, it was well after midnight, I decided that a stealth mission was called for. I donned all black clothing to be able to merge with the shadows,(very slimming too) and headed for Evil Glenn's lair.

In accordance with the way my life had generally been going, I was captured almost the moment my foot touched his property. Within minutes, I was dragged by his lackeys into what looked like a large kennel. Evil Glenn was there. His gloating started immediately.

"Ah, my young apprentice. I see you have finally come over to the Dark Side." he said in a sinister voice.

"NEVER!" I rebuffed him. "Besides, you know I can't afford the union dues."

"Ah yes. I've noticed that recruiting has been down a bit since I allowed them to unionize. Perhaps I should re-think that policy..." He drifted off into his thoughts for a moment, and then with a smirk asked me, "But if you aren't coming here to join me, why the black clothing? Other than it being very slimming."

"Ninja suit." I replied, a little testily. "It was supposed to make it harder for you to catch me."

"You'd have been better off wearing dark grey then. Black actually stands out more at night than a nice dark grey." For a moment, I was afraid that he was going to launch into a lecture. But then he returned to questioning me. "Then why are you here, my young friend?"

"Harvey sent me." Now I was a little sullen at having made such a stupid mistake about my clothes. "I'm supposed to find out what you were going to be doing for the Fourth of July this year.

"And I'm not your 'young friend' you filthy monster." I added.



He paused to think again, and for a moment I wasn't sure what he was going to do. Then he smiled. Now I was worried.

"Actually, I don't mind telling you at all since I don't think that there is anything you can do about it. Unfortunately, my original plans were disrupted, so I have had to fall back to plan B."

"What's that?" I asked, immediately regretting it.

"Observe." he commanded. He reached into a cage along one side of the kennel and pulled a small dog out by it's scruff. "We have here a common mutt that has been force fed a special diet for the last 24 hours."

I didn't like the way this was going, but I asked, "What 'special diet'?"

"Oh, a little mixture I worked up on my own. It has everything a puppy needs: charcoal, sulfur, salt-peter..."

The realization suddenly hit me. "But that's-"

"Hush!" he said, cutting me off. "Watch!" He pulled a Zippo out of his pocket. Then, with a deft flick of his wrist, he lit it and held the flame to the tail of the dog in his other hand.

He dropped the dog to the ground as soon as the tail started burning, showering sparks everywhere. It ran back and forth across the lawn, until it's yelping was cut short by a small explosion.

I was nauseated. There was bits of puppy all over the lawn. "That's horrible!" All I could think about was that poor little dog. "What a waste..." I said thinking about how it's life had been cut so tragically short.

"Oh, nothing is wasted," said Evil Glenn. "I have drains placed all over the lawn to funnel everything down to the processing vats. I assure you that I am not giving up my smoothies just for the sake of some fireworks. Actually," he added, "this gives them a certain zing that makes for a nice change of pace."

He clapped his hands together with satisfaction. "Now let's get some of the bigger dogs out and really have a fireworks display!"

"NO! I can't take any more of that." I cried.

"Very well. Insta-henchmen, take him and throw him off the property."

"You're letting me go?" I was stunned. I had expected torture. In fact looked forward to it if it meant not having to watch dogs explode. But this was much better.

"Why not? You're an American, and this is our Nation's birthday. Consider it a one-time gift."

As his Insta-henchmen started to drag me away, I remembered something he had said earlier. "You said that this was plan B." I said. "What was plan A?"

"Oh that? I was planning to take over the International Space Station and then I was going to crash it into the Statue of Liberty during the Fourth of July celebrations. But just before my team of agents got to the station, there was a bright flash from somewhere near Buffalo that blinded them..."

"Um. Gotta Go!" I said as I wrenched myself from his lackey's grasp and ran off into the night.

I may not have been able to stop his puppy-fireworks, but at least, indadvertantly at least, I stopped his planned destruction of the ISS!

Posted by GEBIV at 11:51 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

April 13, 2005

PGHA: Al Gore TV

I was sitting in a lotus position on the roof of my garage, meditating. Clear nights like that were perfect for getting in tune with the universe. Plus, it allowed me a better angle to spit sunflower seeds into the neighbor's yard. Suddenly I felt strange, as if millions of voices had all cried out at the same moment. Then it was like they were laughing at something so hard they couldn't catch their breath.

There was a disturbance in the force.

And of course, that almost always meant an Alliance assignment.

I gingerly stood up, untangling my legs as I went. Uh oh! I had sat too long and both of them were asleep.





I picked myself up off the driveway, groaning more than a little. I limped down to the corner to buy a paper. Twinging a bit each time I turned a page, I found the want ads. I scanned the page, and there it was, The signal for an assignment:


Reasonable rates.
Available day or night.
Call xxx-xxxx

Oops. Wrong ad. I meant the next one.

Lobotomies, cheap! Amaze your friends. become a liberal in one easy step. Call Harvey @ 555-5555

I checked my watch and saw that I had to hurry. I only had a few minutes to get to the meeting place for my assignment.

I staggered out of the store as fast as my legs would let me. (They were now at the pins and needles stage) Once I reached the end of the store, I made a sharp turn and ducked into the alley behind it. I checked my watch again, and as the second-hand swept past the XII (12 for those who failed Roman numerals, 1100 for Harvey) I knocked three times on the large trash can next to a pile of tires.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then a furry little head popped out of the can. It was Bosco the Idea Lemur.

"Hey there little guy." I said. "Have you got my assignment?"

With a solemn face, somewhat amusing on the furry critter, he handed me a folded piece of paper.

As soon as I started reading it, I knew that I was right about that earlier feeling I had of a disturbance in the force.

Agent GEBIV, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find out what the lineup will be on Al Gore's new cable station, "Current". So far, everyone we have sent to get this information has nearly died laughing. And none of them had even seen any part of the lineup. I'm counting on your odd sense of humor to protect you on this assignment.

As usual, if you are discovered or captured, we will have no choice to disavow all knowledge of your actions. But the Widows and Orphans Fund has really grown lately, so at least your dependents will... oh, I forgot, you're not married. Never mind.

Good luck.

I absentmindedly crumpled the paper up and dropped it into the trash can as I thought about the assignment.

A shrieking sound roused me from my reverie. Bosco was frantically trying to climb out of the can. "Oops!" I said as I dove for cover.


The explosion fired the lemur out of the garbage can like a round from an a civil war mortar. After doing a quick mental calculation, I figured that his azimuth and elevation were somewhere in the range that would hopefully land him in Wisconsin. I just hope his cheese-head owner had a nice soft spot for him to land on...

As fur drifted down around me, I realized that it was once again time for another...

(Cue Theme Music)

Fortunately, this one looked like an easy assignment. I don't know what they've got in Wisconsin, but here in Buffalo our liberal rag was bound to have a full page story on the new channel. And I had already purchased a paper!

I found a good spot to sit down and flipped back through the news. Drat! I was only batting .500. The full page story had been done yesterday, and all todays paper had were some corrections for the article. Interesting stuff, but "mistakenly reporting an expected market share of 30% which should be .03%" wasn't going to help me much.

However, the TV listings did have the programming for the day, so here is the afternoon-evening listing:

  • Noon - 2:00PM Politically Correctness Seminar - How to be offended at practically anything anyone says.

  • 2:00PM - 3:00PM CSI: Ohio - The investigative team discovers evidence, leading all of the way back to Florida,2000 proving that Bush stole the election.

  • 3:00PM - 4:00PM Why We Hate Bush

  • 4:00PM - 4:05PM Great successes of Liberalism - With a televised Q&A session for the last four minutes.

  • 4:05PM - 6:00PM Why We Hate Bush - reruns.

  • 6:00PM - 7:00PM The PETA Hour - Why your children are less important than a snail no one has ever heard of.

  • 7:00PM - 8:00PM All Al - Al Gore interviews people he thinks should be president instead of Bush. This week's interview, Al Gore.

  • 8:00PM - Midnight Test pattern - A "correctly" filled-in 2008 election ballot. Remember, Hillary has two "l"s.

OK, that was kind of nauseating, I thought. But I don't feel any uncontrollable laughter.

Then the actual absurdness of the whole network hit me. Al Gore had a TV channel! I had only been protected from the humor by my own denseness. All of a sudden, I started snickering to myself. This won't last a month! Now I was into a full blown chuckle. I bet advertisers will pay NOT to have their commercials on during his program! Now I was giggling uncontrollably.

Luckily, just then a town sheriff came by and saw me. He must have figured that I was doing drugs from the way I was acting, because he stepped out of his squad car and proceeded to beat the snot out of me.

When he couldn't find any drugs, he let me go. But the beating had managed to save me from laughing myself to death.

Hey, I was always told to look on the bright side...

Posted by GEBIV at 09:09 PM | Comments (4)

April 08, 2005

Filthy Lie: Evil Glenn as a Substitute Teacher

I was driving down a back-alley, looking for my contact. Earlier in the day, I had seen a peculiar item in the want-ads.

PUPPIES FOR SALE!!1! To good home only. No Blenders allowed. Call Harvey @ 555-5555

That was the signal that I had a new assignment. Ever since my recent Alliance promotion, things had changed. I didn't get any more respect, but I also didn't get any exploding surprises at my home. Now, all I had to do was wait for certain key phrases in the paper to let me know where and when to go get my assignment. The key was matching up the phrase with the time and location in my code book. Which is what led me to this dark back-alley. In the middle of the night.

I recognized the meeting place by the graffitti on the wall. The giant "MEET ME HERE" spray-painted on the wall is reallllllll subtle. I thought to myself. I parked the Jeep and got out. A little nervously, I walked over and stood in the circle of light shining on the giant "X" painted on the ground. Suddenly, having an exploding message appear out of nowhere was starting to look pretty good in comparison.

While I was standing there, contemplating my mortality, a figure in a trench-coat and Fedora darted out of the shadows and shoved an envelope into my hands. A moment later, the figure was gone, disappearing back into the deep shadows.

I tore the end off the envelope, and a small cassette fell into my palm. "Just great," I muttered. "I don't have a tape player."

The figure dashed back out of the shadows and handed me a tape recorder before rushing away again. I shrugged and put the tape in the deck. I paused a moment before hitting the "play" button. Oh well. I've gone this far.


"Good evening Mr. GEBIV. Recently, our intelligence sources have uncovered a disturbing fact. No longer content to corrupt his students during the standard three classes a week a Professor has to teach, Evil Glenn has started taking substitute teaching jobs. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find out what happened at one of Evil Glenn's recent substitute teacher performances.

"This is a dangerous assignment, so we understand if you do not wish to accept it. But frankly, you'd look like a big chicken if you wimped out now.

"On the other hand, if you are discovered, captured or killed, we will disavow all knowledge of your actions. (Just make sure you get back in time to do the roundup)

"This message will self-destruct in 10 seconds..."

I popped the tape out of the player, and threw it into a trash can. And then to be nice, I tossed the tape-recorder back to the mysterious figure that had lent it to me.

A small puff of smoke popped out of the trash can. That wasn't too bad. Then, from the darkness where I had assumed the trench-coated figure was hiding, I heard. "Oh crap!" And was promptly knocked down as the person rushed past me, running as hard as possible for the street at the end of the alley.

I didn't need to be told twice, so I jumped into my Jeep and burned rubber out of there. I was just passing the mysterious character when I heard the explosion behind me.


A glance in the mirror showed me the two buildings that formed the alleyway collapsing towards each other. And a Fedora being blown towards me. I reached out the window and grabbed the hat. And when I stopped to put it on, I spied my contact. He was draped over a street light, but the way he was cursing, I figured he would be fine.

I slammed the Jeep back in gear and headed south to Tennessee. As I left the impromptu urban renewal behind, I knew that it was once again, time for another...

(Cue Theme Music)

Some time later, I pulled into the parking lot at Evil Glenn's campus. When I went to his office, I found a schedule tacked to his door showing all of his substitute teaching gigs. I was in luck. He was subbing right at that moment at a Junior College down the street. Some class called "Introduction To The Legal Profession."

I ran back to the Jeep and hopped in. I hoped I would be in time. And that I would be able to stomach what I found.

For good or ill, I made it to the class before Evil Glenn had finished. When I stuck my head the door, he was apparently just finishing up a section of the lesson.

"...and that is how you properly set it up to double bill your client." he was saying.

A hand went up from the middle of the classroom. "But is that ethical to do?" a young man asked.

"Hmmm?" answered Evil Glenn. "Ethical?" He turned his back to the class and walked over to his desk. Once there, he pulled out a dictionary and started thumbing through it. "Let's see." he muttered to himself as he ran a finger down the page. "Energy... esoteric... ethane... ah, here it is.

"Ethics. Noun. Pertaining to the morality of a situation. Said to actually be a concern of people outside the legal profession."

He turned back to face the student who had asked the question. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand your question.

"But I'm afraid that we don't have any time for more questions. I have to move on to the next portion of the syllabus. The use of legal means to deprive your enemies of their dwellings."

"Why should we do that?" another student, a young woman, asked.

Evil Glenn seemed surprised at the question and blurted out. "Because then they would be homeless."

The students didn't understand the answer, but I knew what he was aiming at all too well. It was clear to me that this Dark Lord of the Blogsphere was using these substitution appearances to spread his own, personal form of evil to the next generation.

I needed to know how far Evil Glenn was planning to go, so I crept into the room far enough to grab one of the class outline sheets sitting on a table just inside. Fortunately, Evil Glenn was concentrating on his power point presentation, and I was not seen. Retrieving the paper, I stepped back outside the classroom to read it.

My blood ran cold when I saw the next section of the lesson plan. "The Liquification of Canis Minoris as Preparation for Court Appearances: with live demonstration."

I had to disrupt his plans somehow. I couldn't let these poor, innocent, pre-law ... well poor at least, students be corrupted any further. I looked around the hallway for some way to stop the class. There were a bunch of lockers, a few scattered pieces of paper... some gum stuck to the floor...

A fire alarm! Inspiration!

I ran into the next room, a chemistry lab, and found what I was looking for. A large CO2 fire extinguisher. Grabbing the large steel cylinder, I dashed back to Evil Glenn's lecture.

I could tell that he had moved on to the final part of the lesson. A large blender was sitting on the table, and Evil Glenn was bending over a large basket of puppies, trying to choose his first victim.

I couldn't let it go any further. Before he could get a good grip on one of the squirming little dogs, I ran up and hit him over the head with the extinguisher.

This just barely seemed to get his attention. He turned and peered at me over his glasses. "Ah, agent GEBIV. So good of you to join us."

I couldn't think of any witty repartee, so I just hosed him down with the CO2. The extreme cold temperature froze him solid right before his hands could reach me. When the vapor from the extinguisher cleared, he was standing there immobile. A life-sized Evil Glennsickle with his arms outstretched towards me.

Finally, a witty comment popped into my head.

"Instapundo delenda est!" I said as I pushed him over backwards. Unfortunately, he didn't shatter into thousands of pieces, like in Terminator 2. He just made a *thud* sound when he hit. But it was still a really cool moment.

I turned to the students. "Class dismissed." I told them. "And a free puppy to anyone without a blender."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Evil Glenn start to wiggle his pinky. I took that as my cue to leave, and bolted. As I drove home, I could only hope that I had saved those students in time... and that I would get back in time to do the roundup!

Posted by GEBIV at 09:10 PM | Comments (6)

March 23, 2005

PGHA: Why is North Korea so grumpy?

I was at my regular grocery store, walking down an aisle in the produce section. I had a craving for something fresh, but I was having a hard time deciding what I wanted. So I wandered aimlessly, in what looked like a fruitless search.

I had just about given up when I noticed one of the produce workers bringing in a tray of cherimoya . Man, what an ugly fruit. But I had heard that they were very tasty, so I picked a nice fresh looking one off the top of the display. (I hoped it was fresh. I couldn’t really tell, but it was on top.)

I zipped through the rest of the store, getting everything else on my list. Then, juggling my selections, (real men don’t use carts) I paid for everything and headed out to the Jeep.

Halfway across the parking lot, I fished out my fruit and tried to figure out how to eat it. Hmm. This could be harder than I thought. I was still puzzled over this as I reached the Jeep. I tossed the rest of the bags in the back and set the fruit on the bumper. After choosing which one of my regular brace of pocketknives to use, I cut the cherimoya in half.

But instead of being filled with a tasty tropical delicacy, the fruit was instead filled with a rolled up piece of paper. Well, more accurately, two pieces of paper. My razor sharp knife had cut the note in half. I was starting to have a familiar sinking feeling as I lined up the two halves and started reading.

Agent GEBIV, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find the reasons for North Korea being so darned grumpy.

Now these are a bunch of crazy communists, so be careful on your mission. These guys make Californians look normal. If you are captured or compromised in any way, we will be unable to help you or even acknowledge your existence.

Oh, and while you’re over there, pick me up some kim chee. I haven’t had any since they kicked me out of the Navy. American FDA rules make it impossible to find any authentic kim chee around here. Well, that and the fact that no one else likes fermented cabbage. It’s almost as hard to find as baalut outside the Philippines.

Mmmm. Now I’m getting hungry…

Anyways, this message will self destruct in 10 seconds.

I crammed the paper back into the fruit halves and pitched the whole thing into a nearby cart corral.


The shopping carts were propelled across the parking lot like wire-frame missiles. I jumped into the Jeep and expertly navigated the metallic minefield. And as I watched several thousand dollars worth of door dings occurring in my rear view mirror, I knew that it was once again time for another…

(Cue Theme Music) I decided to get some help on this one, so I called my blogless brother up on the phone as soon as I got home. I hoped that he was done moving into his new house, and would be available to help me. But busy or not, he was still the best man with a search engine that I knew. I was in luck, and he answered his phone on the second ring. “Hey, Culbrez,” I asked, “can you help me out on this assignment? I need to find out why North Korea is so grumpy.”

“Sure.” He replied. “I’ll see what I can find, and then I’ll get right back to you as soon as I get something.”

Half an hour later, he called me back. “Find anything?” I asked.

“Sorry, nothing definite.” He said. “But I was able to book you on the next flight into Pyongyang.”

“What!?” I exclaimed.

“Well, I was able to hack into some military surveillance satellites over the Korean peninsula. And when I ran the pictures from them through that grumpiness detector you gave me for Christmas last year – oh, by the way. Thanks. That has been a real lifesaver on my last couple of dates. As soon as she starts getting grumpy, I know it’s time to retreat. – But where was I… oh yeah. I ran the pictures through it, and found that, nearly all of the grumpiness in the entire country is emanating from Pyongyang.”

Then he added, “After that, I checked some blown up photographs of the city, and it seems that the focus of the grumpiness is right in the presidential palace. So I booked a flight for you so you can go and investigate it yourself. Personally, I’m betting Kim Jong Il is the source. But you’ll have to find out what makes him so grumpy.”

“Gee thanks.” I was sure that it was Kim Jong Il myself. But I wasn’t planning on having to go to North Korea. I was grasping at straws, but I asked him again. “Did you find anything else?”

“Just one more thing. Kim Jong Il is going to be staying at a health spa just outside the city this week. You might be able to catch up with him there.”

“Well, that’s something. As long as he’s not at the palace, I might have a chance to get close to him.” I was now resigned to my trip. I just hoped that I would be able to use the flight towards my Sky-Miles.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” my brother added as I was saying goodby, “the flight is a cargo carrier going to pick up a load of basketball sneakers. So dress warm, they don’t always heat the cargo holds.” *Click*

Oh boy.

I packed up my stuff and locked up my apartment. I had to hurry to catch my flight. On the positive side, at least I wouldn’t be getting any airline peanuts on this trip…

Twenty hours later, I felt the bump of the landing gear as we touched down at Pyongyang International. I slowly pulled myself out of the folding chair that I had been buckled into. A groan escaped my lips as the blood returned to my legs. Maybe I should have paid extra to sit up with the crew. I thought to myself. But I wanted as few people to know I was in the country as possible, and as long as I stayed in the cargo area, only me and the crew chief knew I was back here.

*Clack* The sound of an AK-47 being chambered made me freeze in place. OK, make that me, the crew chief, three North Korean officers and the twelve North Korean soldiers holding the rifles pointed at my head. Time to go to plan B.

“Hi,” I said as brightly as I could force myself, “My name is John Liberal. I’m Michael Moore’s personal assistant, and I’m here to do research for a documentary.”

I kept my hands in the air while I watched the two officers debate what they heard. One of them broke away from the others. “You no Michael Moore.” He accused in broken English. “Michael Moore no fit on plane this small.”

“No.” I tried to clarify my lie, “I’m Mr. Moore’s assistant. I work for him.”

“Oh.” He seemed to understand me, and he took this new information back to the discussion. Suddenly, the other two both smiled. The highest-ranking one (I’m guessing that stars on the shoulders mean the same there, as here.) walked up and shook my hand. “How can we help the assistant of the famous Mr. Moore?” he asked in much better English than his lower ranked associate.

“I’m here to get some background information about your ‘Glorious Leader’ Mr. Kim Jong Il.” I said. “That way Mr. Moore will be able to put him in the best possible light. We want to make him the Castro of the East!”

“Better yet,” joked the general, “make it so Castro is called the Kim Jong Il of the Caribbean!”

I laughed along with the other officers. I knew that as long as I was with them, I had to pretend to be a commie loving liberal. I just hoped that the strain of acting contrary to all of my beliefs wasn’t too much for me to handle.

In what seemed like no time at all, I was being ushered into the “Presidential Suite” at the health spa Mr. Kim was staying at. The limo ride over had been rather uneventful. Unless you were paying close attention, you wouldn’t notice that the healthy, happily waving people that we kept passing were all wearing uniforms under their “simple peasant garb.” I was given the standard Hollywood treatment. They were making sure that I didn’t see anything that would disillusion me about the wonders of communism.

I was seated by myself at a small table in the center of the ante-room to the suite. I was in a comfortable, but plain chair. It didn’t look like it had any means of restraints built into it, so I wasn’t worried about that, yet. My only concern was with being able to pull off the charade. Would the formerly poofy-haired dictator believe that I was really there to interview him for an upcoming movie?

After sitting there for half an hour, other thoughts started to nag me. Could they be calling Hollywood to check my story? Were they too paranoid to trust a seemingly liberal gift horse? Were they at that moment preparing a cell in which to lock me up and throw away the key? Did I leave the stove on at home?

I gave myself a mental slap. Pull yourself together. And then because I don’t like it when someone slaps me, I slapped myself back. That was about to escalate into a mental knuckle and skull brawl when the door going into the next room opened.

A man dressed in a valet’s uniform told me that I could come in. I quickly composed myself and tried to look as much like a Hollywood liberal as I could. (Without looking totally gay, that is.)

Finally, I was standing in front of the “Glorious Leader” himself. I could see that even though he was trying to put on a good face for me, someone he thought was going to be making a movie about him, he was still pretty grumpy.

I started in with the movie pitch, and hoped for the best.

“Mr. Kim Jong Il,” I started, “what we’re looking to do, is show the rest of the world, the caring and sensitive side of you that those evil conservatives are always saying you don’t have. We want this movie to say to them, you’re a great guy!” Boy, I was laying it on thick. I just hoped that we didn’t need hip waders soon.

“So can you start by telling me a little about yourself? How are you feeling right now?” It was silly, but maybe I’d get lucky and he would tell me.

“I’m not in a real good mood right now.” He confessed. “I’ve had things bothering me for a while. That’s why I came to this health spa this week.”

Jackpot! I did a couple of mental cartwheels. This was going to be easier than I thought!

“Can you tell me what’s bothering you?” I asked. “Maybe I can help, somehow.”

“Well, the first thing that was really bugging me was the neighbors.” He started. “Those South Korean’s dogs were barking all night long!”

“Ah,” I said, “So you haven’t been able to get any sleep?”

“No, no.” he replied. “I’ve been sleeping just fine. All that barking made me hungry. But once I’ve had my midnight snack, I usually feel just fine.”

“Oh… well that’s good news.” Strike one. I was sure that I had found the cause of his grumpiness. “Anything else bothering you?”

“My favorite sit-com was canceled last month. They stopped making ‘I Love Loo Chee’ right in the middle of the season.”

“I can see why that might make you a little angry.” I commiserated.

“Oh, that didn’t make me angry. Just hungry again.” He said.

“How’s that?” I asked.

“They replaced it with ‘Lassie’ re-runs.”

I barely managed to keep the nausea I was feeling out of my facial expression. I swallowed back the bile I could feel and asked him again, “Was there anything else that was bothering you?”

“Yes there was.” He said. “I had a pair of underwear that was really chafing me.”

“Is there anything that we can do to help?” I questioned. If all it took to end North Korea’s political saber rattling were some new underwear, it would be worth the purchase.

“No, that’s all taken care of. I gave them to my cousin. It used to be I could wear one pair for a whole year without taking them off. But now I can only seem to get six months out of them.” Suddenly an idea seemed to hit him. “Maybe I should try washing them once in a while!”

Must not vomit! I thought to myself. Out loud all I said was, “Yeah, that might help.”

I was getting desperate. I didn’t think that I could take any more of these personal revelations from the North Korean. But I had to find the real source of his grumpiness. I hope this time I get the real answer. I thought as I asked, for what I hoped was the last time. “Is there anything else bothering you right now?”

“There is one thing that has been really making me grouchy lately.” He admitted.

Oh please, don’t let this be about eating dogs, or poor personal hygiene. I prayed. “What is it?” I asked him.

“I just haven’t been happy since the NHL lockout.” He said. “I miss my hockey so much.” He added with a moan.

“I can’t agree with you more.” I agreed. For the first time, I was not lying to him. A small tear formed in the corner of my eye, the cancellation of the entire hockey season had hit me hard too.

While hockey wasn’t my entire life, I could definitely understand how the loss of the season could drive a man to threatening nuclear war. I’d probably react that way myself if a whole football season was called off.

A feeling of compassion for this little dictator spread through me. I was really starting to understand him, and he didn’t seem that bad a guy.

However, his next statement completely erased any good feelings I was starting to have.

“I was really hoping the Rangers would win the cup this year.” He mused.

This time I was unable to keep the look of revulsion off my face. “You monster!” I cried. “How could you root for them?”

His reaction to that statement was as severe as mine was to his. “Blasphemer.” He cursed. Then he yelled out, “Guards! Arrest this man!”

Fortunately, none of his guards spoke English, and before he could repeat himself in Korean, I was out of my chair and racing for the door.

I burst out into the hallway, and saw the guards at each end. Using the stairs to escape was now out of the question. I spotted the laundry chute set into the wall. Hey, sometimes clichés are the only answer. I dove for the hamper door.


Ouch! It was locked shut. I guess the security detail for the spa had seen all the same spy movies I had. Well that egress was out. I had to come up with a different way out. And fast. Kim Jong Il had remembered to yell for his guards in Korean, and they were approaching fast.

I ducked into a doorway across the hall from the presidential suite I had just left. From the décor, it was another large suite. I locked the door behind me and ran to a window.

As the soldiers started kicking in the door, I pulled open the window and jumped out. I knew I was on the top floor, but I was getting desperate.

I was in luck. Below me I could see a swimming pool. Bad news was, it was only March, and there was no water in it! Good news was it was filled with snow. I hoped that it was light and not too hard packed.

I landed with a soft thud. I quickly climbed out and ran for my life. Fortunately, being completely covered in snow, the soldiers had a hard time picking me out among all of the snowdrifts and none of them got any clean shots at me.

I made my way back to the airport, and managed to hide myself in an outgoing crate of sneakers. I just hoped that the shipment was going to Buffalo. Or at least somewhere in the North-east.

As I settled in among the shoes, I realized two things. One, North Korea was grumpy for the same reasons as most of Canada and the Northern U.S.; no-hockey meant no-happy.

And two, I had forgotten Harvey’s authentic kim chee. Well, TNT would probably appreciate that…

Posted by GEBIV at 06:27 PM | Comments (1)

March 16, 2005

PGHA: Dan Rather's sign off

I was out taking Slinky the Wonder Ferret for a walk, when I saw a beautiful super-model talking in a phone booth. Out of nowhere, she waved to me, and made hand motions that I should come closer. I know that sounds hard to believe, but there are actually a few phone booths left around the area.

As I approached her, she held out the receiver and said in a sultry voice, “It’s for you.”

She started fussing over Slinky, so I decided to see who was on the phone. When I tried to bring the phone to my head, the cord was twisted and seemed to be caught on something. I gave it a hard tug.

Whatever it was hooked on gave way, and I inadvertently smacked myself in the head with the phone. Instant tears sprang to my eyes and I cut back a curse.

When I finished blinking away the tears and pain, the supermodel was gone. All of a sudden, I had a bad feeling about the whole setup.

With more than a little apprehension, I held the phone up to my ear. “Hello. Hello? Helloooooooo.”

“Ah good, you finally picked up.

“Agent GEBIV, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find out what Dan Rather should have done to make his last CBS Evening News broadcast more memorable.

“Oh, and if she hasn’t left yet, can you ask TNT to pick up some Reddy-Whip on the way home?”

“Um, the super model?”

“Yeah, she’s my formerly-blogless Beloved Wife, TNT of Smiling Dynamite.”

“Oh. Uh, she’s gone.”

“Drat! Oh well. This message will self destruct in 10… 9…”

I grabbed Slinky and ran for my life.


As I dodged the burning pieces of Verizon property falling from the sky, I knew that it was time for another…

(Cue Theme Music)

I had the perfect place to start. Find out what Dan Rather really said in his farewell broadcast.

Nah, I decided to just imagine what he said.

Yada yada yada … pretend to support the military … yada yada yada … pretend to like America … yada yada yada … pretend to care about everyone … yada yada yada …courage.

OK got it. Now to come up with better ways he could have done his sign-off.

I determined that in order to come up with a better broadcast, I would need to be marginally smarter than the CBS broadcast programmers.

Hmm, how to loose 100 IQ points…?

I slammed my head in a drawer repeatedly, and then sat down in front of a six hour Spongebob marathon.


Gradually, my intelligence returned. I wiped the drool off of my chin and looked at what I had come up with. These are what I was able to decipher from the crayoned scrawls.

Dan Rather: … and to Mr. Shieffer here who is going to be replacing me, I admit that you are a better reporter than I am.

Shieffer: Then why are you smiling?

Rather: Because I know something that you don’t know. I am not left handed!

Then Rather and Shieffer proceed to duel with pencils all over the news set.

Then next one was:

Dan Rather: … courage. And now, my associate Gonzo and I will be attempting a first for broadcast television. Reverse bungee jumping.

Gonzo: First we tie these bungee cords to our ankles! And then we strap these rocket packs to our packs, which will propel us over fifty feet into the air! Then the bungee cords will yank us back to the ground at over one hundred miles an hour!

Rather: (strapping on his rocket pack) Where our fall will be broken by…?


Rather: Wait!


The next one I could decipher from pile was:

Dan Rather finishes up the news and takes a sip of water from a glass on the desk.

Rather: …and finally, I would like to tell all of the viewers at home what I really think of them. (truth serum in the water kicks in) I… can’t… stand… you. I hate your guts! You people make me sick! Who do you think you are, getting me fired over those memos? You people can’t tell me what to do! I’m the one who tells you what to think!! You will all pay for this…

Rather is tackled by two large sound guys and dragged off the air cursing at the camera.

The next two were related:

Dan Rather finishes up his broadcast “…courage. And now I’d like to present a little something for everyone.”

Rather then produces an electric guitar and performs Queen’s “God Gave Rock And Roll To You.”

He finishes the performance by jumping off the top of the desk while shouting “WILD STALLYNS RULES!”

… and …

This ends the same as the last one, but instead of playing like the end of “Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey,” he plays like the end of “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure.”

The last one of the bunch that I could figure out was this:

Dan Rather finishes up his broadcast and starts humming. His humming gradually gets louder, and suddenly he breaks into song.

“They're coming to take me away, ha-haaa!!
They're coming to take me away, ho-ho, hee-hee, ha-haaa
To the funny farm. Where life is beautiful all the time and I'll be
happy to see those nice young men in their clean white coats and they're
coming to take me away, ha-haaa!!!!!”

A group of men in white coats appear from off screen. Rather pulls a straightjacket from under his chair and starts putting it on. “Got to go everybody!” he shouts. “My rides here!”

That’s all I seemed to be able to come up with. I might have been able to do more if I could have lost more brain cells, but those things are tougher to loose than I thought.

Posted by GEBIV at 08:40 PM | Comments (2)

February 25, 2005

Filthy Lie: Evil Glenn's Government Contract

I was sitting at work, watching some customers try to figure out how the front doors operate (PUSH or PULL for those in Rio Linda) when static suddenly interrupted the radio station I was listening to.

The static faded away, and a voice with a familiar Wisconsin accent started speaking. And with his first words, I knew I was being dragged back in…

“Good evening, Agent GEBIV. We need your help, don’t-cha-know. Our intelligence has shown that the government is asking Evil Glenn to do something for them. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find out what the government has contracted Evil Glenn to do.

“As usual, you will be receiving no backup. And if you are discovered, we will of course disavow all knowledge of you or your actions.

“Go Packers!

“This message will destruct in 5… 4…”

I dove to the other side of the counter right before the radio vaporized itself.


Oh man. That was MY radio, not the store’s… and I didn’t get the extended warranty either. What a lousy thing to do just ‘cause I couldn’t make it to the family re-union.

Fortunately, my shift was just ending. So when my relief showed up, I quickly went out the door without saying anything about the smoking crater that had been my radio. For I knew that it was once again time for another…

(Cue theme music)

Since my breaking and entering skills were much better than my hacking skills, (and my blogless brother was busy moving into a new house) I decided to go right to Washington, D.C., rather than attempt to break into their computer systems from my home.

So I filled the Jeep with premium and headed down the interstate!

About half an hour later I was back home. (Forgot my tools) So, after looking over the checklist this time, I was off again!

Some time later, (I can’t believe I forgot to put a watch on the checklist) I was walking up to the White House. I talked to one of the security guards for a few minutes, and he was nice enough to direct me to the National Archives; where I was sure to find the records of Evil Glenn’s contract.

After spending an entire morning going through the records, I was unable to find any information about any contracts with Evil Glenn. There were all sorts of receipts for bribes and blackmail payments, but nothing about Evil Glenn doing something for the government. Everything that I could find was about Evil Glenn doing things to members of the government. And believe me, you don’t want to know… *shudder*

In fact, the only reference to Evil Glenn that I found that was less than a month old, was something mentioning a Congressional Hearing about “The Reynolds Originating Body Overwhelming Tic”.

I looked up at the ancient clock on the wall. Let’s see, the little hand is on the III and the big hand is on the IX and the skinny hand is spinning around and around and… ooh, dizy. *thud*

Eventually, I was able to figure out that the Congressional Hearing was starting in about an hour. (Give or take 15 minutes) So I ran over to the Capitol Building…

(A word of advice. Don’t run near any government buildings in Washington. Apparently, that looks really suspicious to the security people there…)

Once the beatings were done, they decided to let me go. Luckily for me, they’d had a busy day, and were too tired to hit me for much more than twenty minutes. So, now limping, I went the rest of the way to the Capitol.

I wasn’t too late. The Hearing was just starting. I found a seat in the gallery and settled in to watch and listen.

The first thing that I noticed was that all of the Congressional Aids were walking in a jerking motion. They appeared to have some problems with their joints.

Then the Speaker stood up and staggered to the podium. He was moving with the same spasmodic movements as the Aids. But instead of speaking, he placed a boom box on the dais, inserted a CD and pressed play!

Instantly the entire assembly erupted out of their seats! They started dancing around. But it was no ordinary dance! No. They were dancing THE ROBOT!

I fled in horror as it dawned on me what had happened. The government hadn’t contracted Evil Glenn to do something for them. They had contracted something from him!


Posted by GEBIV at 06:53 PM | Comments (1)

September 01, 2004

PGHA: Kerry's Secret Plan

I was sitting in the Laundromat alone, waiting for my delicates to get done, when I heard a strange buzzing sound. I looked around, but couldn’t quite make out where it was coming from. Finally, after several minutes of searching for the source, I discovered that it seemed to be coming from the Capacity Dryer. I stuck my head inside and was just able to make out a small note taped to the back of the basket.

Insert 25¢

Intrigued, I followed the instruction. Nothing happened. I looked back inside the dryer and saw a second note partly covered by the first one.

You have to close the door too.

As soon as I did, the basket started revolving and a recorded message started playing.

“Agent GEBIV. Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to discover what John F’n Kerry’s secret plan to win the war in Iraq is. This assignment is of the utmost importance, so no failure will be accepted. If you are discovered, we will not be able to assist you in any way. So our advice would be to not get caught. Anything that you say or publish in the media, will of course be denied (stupid McCain-Feingold act), so don’t embarrass us.

“Oh, and most importantly…”

The quarter ran out, and the dryer stopped spinning. Stupid Harvey. Can’t get the message to fit on one quarter’s worth of dryer time. But I figured that I would need to know what else the message said, so I dug out my last quarter and dropped it in the slot.

“…good luck!

“This message will self destruct in…”

I didn’t wait for the countdown but dove through the glass window front of the Laundromat.


The explosion threw me across the parking lot and into the back seat of my Jeep. (Fortunately, the top was down, so no damage done.) As I crawled into the front seat and watched the unmentionables drifting down from the sky, I knew that it was once again, time for another…

(Cue Theme Music)

I figured that the best source for John Kerry’s “secret plan” would be from the Democratic Candidate himself. So, I got into my rattiest clothes and tried to infiltrate the nearest DNC meeting where as fortune would have it, John Kerry just happened to be speaking that night. And luckily for me, the program indicated that he would finally be sharing his “secret plan” to win the war in Iraq.

Unfortunately, this was a fundraising event, and they didn’t want anyone as scummy looking as I was to attend. Not to mention the fact that I didn’t have the $5000 cover charge.

There was only one thing left to do. I had to dip into what was left of the “Graffiti Currency” I had stolen from Harvey. I had just enough left to rent a tux, a limo, buy a tape recorder, a few DVD’s (for the limo ride), take a few friends out for lunch at a swanky downtown restaurant, get some new tires for the Jeep, and cover the $5000 per plate dinner for the fundraiser.

Kerry was just getting up to the podium to speak as I was sitting down to eat. Not wanting to waste a good piece of rubber chicken (That’s what I assumed it was, the knife wouldn’t cut it, and three tines broke off of the fork), I threw it at him from the dark corner where I was sitting. No one noticed it fly threw the air, and when it hit Kerry in the head, he looked down at his notes, and apparently not seeing any pre-planned responses to such an occurrence, didn’t say a thing. (It stayed stuck in the side of his hairdo for most of the rest of the night, and was actually the liveliest thing on stage until the dancing lemurs came on. But I digress…)

He then began his speech:

“My fellow Americans. I come to you today with a plan to bring the two Americas together. But I can’t tell you it at the moment, because that too is a secret plan. Instead, I will tell you of the other secret plan I have for ending the war in Iraq. A war not unlike the one I both fought for and against in Vietnam, where I received three Purple Hearts, a Bronze Star, and a Silver Star.

“This plan will begin when I have been elected President of the United States, in recognition of the Leadership Qualities that I learned while serving in Vietnam.

“First, I will sit down in the Oval Office, and replace the “W” on the keyboard, which my true predecessor, Albert Gore has given to me. Then, I will be able to go online and type. www.endthewar.com. An action that my opponent, the man who failed to serve his country by joining the Texas National Guard, cannot and will not take.

“Next, I will click the “YES” button on the display asking “Do you want to end the war now?” This will set into motion, the actions of my plan.

“Immediately following my clicking “YES”, in the same manner I learned to pull the trigger of my M-16 while defending America in the jungles of Vietnam, a small red light will turn on deep inside a building in the city of Baghdad. This light will startle a small family of rodents living in the basement of that building, causing them to run out into the living quarters.

“A large cat will chase the rats as the scurry across the floor, pulling on the string tied to its collar. This string will squeeze the trigger of a small caliber pistol, firing one round at a target across the street.

“When the target is hit, a clown sitting on a board will be dropped into a large vat of water. The splash from the clown falling will spill over into a series of gutters, which lead to a cactus growing outside. The water will cause the cactus to bloom, attracting bees. These bees will in turn attract several birds. The birds, once they have eaten all of the insects will fly back to their nests and roost for the night.

“The birds, now heavy from all of the insects they have eaten, will tip the balanced board that their nests are resting on, releasing a catch holding a rope with a concrete block tied to the end. The rope, which snakes through a series of pulleys, will pull the tail of an angry camel tied outside the house.

“The angry camel will run through the streets dropping loaves of bread from the pack on its back. The hungry people of Baghdad will run out and grab the bread and take it home to their families. Once they have eaten the bread, they will read the message on the paper that was baked inside the bread. This message will tell the people of Iraq that the only way for them to be free is to arrest Saddam Hussein.

“The grateful people of Iraq will then arrest Saddam and his two sons and the war with Iraq will be over.”

A small man with a worried look on his face ran up on stage and whispered to Kerry, who apparently forgot that the mic was still on.

“What do you mean the camel got away? …And they ate the paper too?”

More whispering.

“What do you mean they already captured Saddam? And his son’s are what? When?”

More whispering.

“Why aren’t I informed of these things?”

More whispering. And a cringe

“Security briefings? What security briefings? Don’t they know that I served in Vietnam?!?!

“JEEVES! Slap this man.”

As Kerry’s butler trudged across the stage to deliver some undeserved physical abuse to the campaign flunky, I decided that it was time to leave.

If I hurry, I thought, I can still get the deposit back on this tux.

Posted by GEBIV at 08:55 PM | Comments (2)

July 30, 2004

Filthy Lie: Evil Glenn Sidekick

The assignment came to me as a whisper in the Men’s room at Burger King. I was washing my hands after getting Bar-B-Que sauce all over my fingers. (I highly recommend one of their new Angus Burgers. Preferably with bacon and cheese. Oooh, just listen to those arteries clogging. But I digress…)

“Agent GEBIV, your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to find out who Evil Glenn’s Sidekick will be. If you are discovered, we will of course disavow all knowledge of your actions. And, unlike the Democrats, you will be prosecuted for any laws you are caught breaking. Good luck, and may the Force be with you.”

Just great, I thought. I haven’t had Harvey bugging me with an assignment for weeks, and all of a sudden he’s back. And now he’s got some sort of Star Wars fetish.

“Oh, and of course this message will self-destruct in 5 seconds…”

I looked around the small room, but couldn’t tell where the message had come from. I quickly backed out of the room and had just shut the door when I heard the explosion. I decided to risk a look and stuck my head back inside.

Looking at the destruction, I figured that the message had been hidden in the soap dispenser. Ironically, when it exploded, the flying soap had cleaned the walls where the shrapnel hadn’t perforated them.

As I snuck out the back door to avoid the manager, I realized that it was time for one more…

(Cue Theme Music)

I figured that I was going to need help on this one, but my blogless brother was still missing. (Shortly after moving to Ohio, he purchased a season pass for Cedar Point. And he hasn’t been heard from since.) Then, an idea struck me. I knew who I could call to get me some information on Evil Glenn. Deep Pants.

About 6 hours later, I was at the designated meeting place. The only hard part of the mission so far was getting the money for the payoff. (Fortunately, Harvey keeps his “Graffiti Currency” in the bank where he works. Breaking into a bank vault may be difficult, but it was a lot safer than breaking into the home of a Conservative Blogger. Plus, Harvey has all those whips…)

Finally, after I had waited impatiently for several minutes, Sandy Berger, AKA “Deep Pants” emerged from the shadows. “You got the money?” He asked.

Silently, I held up the wad of soft bills. It was all I could do to not gag at the sight of this Liberal flunky. But I knew that if anyone would have information on a known subversive like Evil Glenn, it was the FBI. And if anyone would have copies of those files it would be the DNC. And if anyone could get a copy of those files out of DNC headquarters, it was Deep Pants.

He smiled perversely at the sight of the money and, fortunately for me, reached into his socks and pulled out a small folder. (I don’t know what I’d have done if he had kept it in his pants.) The exchange was made and we each had what we came for. I put the folder in my briefcase and climbed into my Jeep while Berger stuffed the money down his trousers. He was fading back into the shadows as I burned rubber getting out of the parking ramp. I’d had enough contact with Liberalness to last me quite a while.

When I got home, I opened the files and found that it was worse than we had suspected.

Top Secret Re: Glenn Reynolds, AKA Evil Glenn Possibility of Sidekick Recruitment

It has come to the Bureau’s notice that Glenn Reynolds has been actively recruiting for the position of Evil Sidekick. Several agents were lost retrieving this information. (We believe that the Bureau’s tradition of disguising its Agents as homeless people may need to be reconsidered.) The information discovered was worse than feared. Evil Glenn has not only recruited a sidekick, he has also recruited two sub-henchmen.

Unfortunately, at this time, very little information is available on said subjects. Further investigation is required, but it is believed that the subjects came from somewhere South of the United States. We are recommending an Inter-Agency investigation with the CIA on investigating the foreign origins of Evil Glenn’s new assistants.

Attached are photos of the subjects.

Evil Glenn Sidekick: “The Penguinette”
miss congeniality.jpg

Ht: 5’ 4”
Age: 18
Sex: F (we think)
Super Powers: Ability to induce revulsion and nausea by threatening to do “Striptease of Death.”

Evil Glenn Henchmen: “Lawsuit 1” and “Lawsuit 2”
runner up.jpg
Ht: 3’1” / 3’ Ages: 16mo Sex: ? / ? Super Powers: Ability to sneak up using cuteness to get close enough to serve a subpoena.

I just sat there stunned as I read the files. The world as we knew it was coming to an end. How would we ever be able to stop these new forces of evil?

Posted by GEBIV at 07:58 PM | Comments (3)

June 18, 2004

Filthy Lie: Evil Glenn's Father's Day

“… and then it came to pass, that there was a certain large Norwegian named after the Thunder God Thor. He was known to one and all as Fat Thor. And one stormy, June day, he saved his village from a ravening horde of accountants.

It was then decreed throughout the land, that the third Sunday of every June would be forever known as Fat Thor’s Day.

This tradition was brought to North America in…”

I turned off the TV special on the origins of Father’s Day. I had already bought my Dad’s gift, and I didn’t need to think about it again until Sunday. Right now it was time to relax. Time for a nap in fact.

Just as I was about to nod off on the couch, a large rock came sailing through my window. I picked the glass shards off me and picked it up to throw it back.

That’s when I noticed it. The note wrapped around the stone.

Oh no.

I was afraid that it was time for another assignment, and I was right. With trembling fingers, I opened the note and read.

Agent GEBIV,

Your mission, should you choose to accept it… well actually, weather you want it or not, is to discover what Evil Glenn has planned to do on Father’s Day. And remember, we still have that picture Evil Glenn took of you last week. So you better not slack off on this assignment. Of course, if you are discovered, we will disavow all knowledge of your actions. Unless you are photographed in another compromising position. In that case, we want the copies.


This message will self destruct…



The paper exploded right in my face, knocking me over the back of the couch. Which fortunately protected me from the effects of the rock exploding. But while the couch took most of the impact from the rock fragments, there was nothing to stop the impact of the couch on my chest.

When did he start using exploding rocks?

I slowly pushed the wreckage of the second couch of mine that Harvey had destroyed off of myself and limped over to the phone. I figured that I was going to need a little help, because it looked like time for another…

(Cue Theme Music)

Fortunately for me, my blogless brother was in town to help celebrate Father’s Day with our blogless Dad. I just hoped that he would be able to hack into Evil Glenn’s computer. I wasn’t looking forward to attacking Evil Glenn’s fortress again any time soon.

We met up outside of a house with un-encrypted wireless that we had discovered the last time he was in town. I explained exactly what I was looking for, and he got right down to work.

Just a few minutes later he was in. It would have taken less time, but he got distracted by a popup for “Refinancing! With low, low mortgage rates.” If I hadn’t been there to remind him that he didn’t have a mortgage to refinance, who knows what he’d have signed up for?

Once we had access to Evil Glenn’s computer, it was just a matter of finding his personal planner. I knew that what we were looking for would be there. After all, you don’t get to be a centuries old vampire with plans to crush the blogsphere without good organizational skills.

It didn’t take us too long. Soon, we had found what the epitome of evil had planned for the day.

June 20, 2004 Personal Planner

7:00 AM: Eat breakfast in bed, served by my many blogchildren.

8:00 AM: Make the Insta-children clean up the mess from eating in bed.

9:00 AM: Go to the orphanage and tease all of the children for not having fathers. (It’s so easy to make them cry on Father’s Day or Mother’s Day)

10:00 AM: Call Harvey and tell him that he is being served with a paternity suit.

11:00 AM: Call Frank J. and tell him he was really adopted.

Noon: Lunch with Insta-Wife

1:00 PM: Call Harvey while pretending to be his wife’s doctor. Tell him all of the pregnancy tests are positive.

2:00 PM: Go to Father-Son hobo whacking with Insta-Dad.

3:00 PM: Go back to the orphanage and announce that everybody’s fathers are coming to pick them up.

4:00 PM: Tell all of the orphans that their fathers died in car accidents on the way to the orphanage. HAHAHAHAHA

5:00 PM: Call Frank J. and tell him that I’m his father.

6:00 PM: Call Harvey with three more paternity suits.

7:00 PM: Dinner. Alone. Mmmm, blended puppies.

8:00 PM: One more call to Harvey with a paternity suit. (I can’t get enough of that. HAHA)

9:00 PM: Bed (Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and evil beyond mortal comprehension. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA)

After reading Evil Glenn’s plans for Sunday, I was just glad that I hadn’t made enough of a splash in the blogsphere to be a target this time. I hoped that this would warn Harvey and Frank. Just one of those calls would be enough to terrorize me.

Suddenly, my brother called out, “He’s tracked us! He’s sending a spike!”

I yanked the wireless card out of my laptop just as my blogless brother disconnected his. From inside the house, we could here a loud popping noise as the electrical spike fried the wireless transmitter.

Oh well, that’s why we don’t use my connection any more.

Posted by GEBIV at 09:10 PM | Comments (0)

June 11, 2004

Filthy Lie: Evil Glenn's Revenge

The Fed-Ex guy ringing my doorbell woke me up way too early. I pulled on a robe and stumped down to the door. Blinking myopically at the figure in uniform standing in front of me, I signed for the package. He placed the large box on the porch, and gave me my receipt. Then, he handed me a letter in a plain manila envelope. Still a little groggy from lack of enough sleep, I tore open the envelope and read the typed letter inside.

Agent JeepboyGEBIV,

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to subject yourself to discover what Glenn Reynolds, Esq. Evil Glenn is going to planning to do for revenge to the deluded bloggers Alliance of Free Bloggers.

To accomplish this mission, you are directed to go to the Buffalo Zoo, and make out withstakeout the Penguin exhibit. You will need to do this under-cover, so, inside the large package that was delivered with this message, you will find the humiliating necessary costume needed to successfully complete this mission.

Do not open the package, until you get to your stakeout position.

This mission is of the utmost importance. So don’t delay in starting.

Gle Harvey

Boy, Harvey needs to get a new typist, I thought to myself. Those are some of the worst typos I’ve ever seen.

I ran upstairs to get my glasses (no time for contacts), and then ran right out to the Jeep. As I roared off down the street, I realized that it was time for another…

(Cue Theme Music)

When I got to the Zoo, I followed the signs to the penguin habitat. Once there, I looked around for a place to change. I spotted an open door in the building attached to the back of the habitat, and looking around to see if anyone would stop me, I ducked inside. Unfortunately, as I opened up the box that I had brought with me, I knocked the door shut, locking it. The dim light was just enough to change into the costume. But not quite bright enough to see what I was putting on.

Once I had the costume on, I was all ready to begin my stakeout. I checked the door again, but it was still locked. Stumbling around in the darkened room, I was, eventually, to find another exit. It was a smaller door, but it seemed to lead out. Unfortunately, I wasn’t very sure at the time. I couldn’t see out of the costume too well.

Finally, I staggered out into the open. At least I thought it was open. My progress was suddenly brought to a halt by my smashing headfirst into a large pane of glass. Then, as if the sound of my collision was a cue, bright lights went on all around me.

While I was standing there blinded, I heard a voice come out of a speaker that seemed to be in the ceiling.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, the worlds greatest wonder...”

I know that voice!


Just then, I noticed my reflection in the glass in front of me. I was standing in the middle of a penguin diorama and was dressed in this… perversion.

“You filthy, disgusting, perverted, slimy excuse for a human!” I shouted.


Then, through the glare of the cameras that were now going off all over the place, I was able to make out a figure in an opera cape, socks and sandals sitting at a control panel on the other side of the glass. It was Evil Glenn himself.

Completely embarrassed, and more than a little enraged, I looked around for something to hide behind. No luck. There was nothing in the display larger than the small penguins I was standing among.

Finally, I snapped. I reached down and grabbed one of the fake penguins and threw it as hard as I could at Evil Glenn. (In an interesting turn of fate, it happened that the fake penguins in the display were all stolen lawn ornaments that Evil Glenn had liberated in his travels.) This meant that the little sucker was solid concrete, and was more than massive enough to go straight through the glass between us.

The concrete penguin missile then struck Evil Glenn squarely in the forehead before deflecting off and embedding itself in the wall behind him. I stomped over to where Evil Glenn was lying while tearing off the costume.

As I approached where he was lying, a black mist swirled up around him, and when it dissipated, he was gone.

While I was sulking back to my car, I figured out how I had been set up. I pulled the letter out of my pocket and turned it over. Sure enough, the “Product of Evil Glenn Industries” watermark on the back told me that this letter wasn’t from Harvey at all. The whole thing had been a trap from the beginning. I drove home, vowing to myself to get back at Evil Glenn someday, somehow.

Only, one thing was still bothering me. If the letter I had received was a fake, what happened to the real Alliance Assignment? It was the right time of the week for it.

Then, pulling into the driveway at home, I noticed the crater where the mailbox had been. A pair of Government Issue shoes at the edge told me all I needed to know. I knew the mailman had been reading my mail…

Posted by GEBIV at 08:08 PM | Comments (0)

June 04, 2004

Filthy Lie: Evil Glenn's T-shirt Babe

I was lying on a float in the middle of the pool, soaking up some sun, when I noticed a strange object floating overhead. It looked just like a miniature hot-air balloon. As it drifted closer, I could tell that my first impression had been right. It was a little copy of a hot-air balloon. Complete with a little remote-controlled balloonist and sandbags. Then, as the wind wafted it directly over me, one of the tiny sandbags let loose, hitting me square on the nose.

I blinked the tears out of my eyes as I futilely reached around for something to throw at the balloon. Suddenly, I thought of throwing the sandbag back. I looked around for it and saw that it had gone straight to the bottom of the pool. I dove down to get it, but just as I surfaced, the balloon soared over the trees and disappeared from sight.

I swam over to the side of the pool and climbed out. I sat down on the edge and examined the sand bag. I hoped to discover some clue as to the source of the balloon, and indirectly the source of my sore nose.

I squinted at it in the sunlight, and was just able to make out the words “Property of Alliance HQ”, when the tiny bag literally fell apart at the seams. A handful of what looked like lead shot rolled off of my hand and splashed into the pool, and I was left holding a crumpled sheet of plastic with writing on it.

With butterflies doing summersaults in my stomach, I flattened it out and read.

“Agent GEBIV, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to discover who will be the Instapundit T-shirt Babe, and what will be on the Instapundit T-shirt. This mission will be full of soul wrenching peril and most likely cost you the lives of yourself and your whole team. But we really don’t want to waste anyone else on it, so don’t fail.

“This message will self destruct in 5 days…”

Boy, Harvey is getting a cheap. He won’t even pop for the expensive 5 second counters anymore. I crumpled the note back up and dropped it in the trash as I ran inside to change. I knew that I was going to need my blogless brother’s help on this one, and he lived 4 hours away.

As I started up the Jeep, I knew that this was the beginning of yet another…

(Cue Theme Music)

A little over 7 hours later, I was knocking on the door to Culbrez’s apartment. (I knew I shouldn’t have taken that right turn at Albuquerque) Fortunately, he was home. Not too surprising since it was close to 2:00 in the morning. As he led me upstairs to his rooms, I asked him if he could help me.

The look he gave me could have peeled paint. And the eyebrow twitch seemed to sum up all of my faults as a computer user. I decided not to question his abilities again.

We quickly set up my computer and hooked into his wireless system. For whatever reason, he wanted as much computing power as possible to help me. Soon, he was surrounded by computer keyboards like some sort of strange electronic rock composer.

As he set up, I asked him “Why don’t you have a blog?”

He looked over and answered. “Well, it’s like this. You know the old saying. Those who can, do. Those who can’t…

Blog. I get it. Let’s get to work.”

He cracked his knuckles and started hacking. Within minutes, he had hacked into Evil Glenn’s computers. “OK,” he said. “We’re looking for a T-shirt babe, right?”


“So where do you think we should start?”

I thought for a minute. Then an idea came to me. “Why not check for upcoming posts? He might already have his T-shirt Babe picked, and just be waiting to post it.”

Sure enough, within a few moments, Culbrez found what we were looking for.

“Ugh. Is that what I think it is?” He asked.

“I’m afraid so,” I replied.

“And on the shirt…?”

“That’s right. A puppy being blended.”

He made a small retching sound. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at a milkshake for as long as I live.”

“Just give me the link, so I can report this back to Alliance HQ.”

A few second’s later, the link for Evil Glenn’s T-Shirt Babe showed up in my inbox.

Evil Glenn's T-shirt Babe

While I was putting it into this report, I heard him say, “Hmm. What do these other links go to? Here, check these out.” He sent the links over to my computer before clicking on them himself.

1st Runner Up

Second Runner Up

Miss Congeniality

I was just looking up to ask him what they were for, when over his shoulder, I could just make out the title of the directory they had sent him to. “Penguins”

“No! Don’t!” But I was too late. I could already see the smoke coming from his monitor. I yanked him out of his chair right before the tube blew. Unluckily, this propelled him directly into the large radiator sitting below the window. Then, knocked loose by the impact, the upper pane of the double hung window slammed down onto his outstretched arms.

I fixed him up as best I could and left before his landlord came up to see what all of the racket was from.

As I drove home, I couldn’t help but wonder what was in those files. But I wasn’t foolhardy enough to actually try them. Who knows which one, or if it was all, that caused the computer meltdown.

A little less than a week later I was watching the news…

Announcer: A large explosion has created an enormous crater here in the Buffalo City Landfill. Investigators are baffled at what could have caused such devastation. Debris from the fill have been discovered as far away as Niagara Falls, and are believed to have been the cause of at least 16 separate traffic accidents. We’ll keep you informed as we get more information…

I glanced out the window, and looked down into my once clean pool.

Oh man.

Posted by GEBIV at 09:16 PM | Comments (3)

June 02, 2004

PGH: Terrorist Blogging

I was just about to bite into a fresh-made Bavarian Cream Donut when I had a premonition. Somehow, I knew that this donut was not going to end well for me. And not just because it wasn’t on my diet. I did what I always do when I feel that sort of omen. I ignored it. I don’t believe in ESP anyway.

As I bit down into the confectionary delight, there was a soft click, and a muffled voice came from somewhere inside the pastry.

“Agent GEBIV, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find an example of a Islamo-terrorist blog and to report it back to the Alliance. If you are captured, we will do our best to rescue you, but as we are no longer allowed to use any, *ahem* ‘persuasion’ in our interrogations, don’t expect too much.

This message will self destruct… NOW!”


Man, that was the last Bavarian Cream in the shop. And this was the last Tim Hortons that I wasn’t blacklisted from.

As I wiped the cream and frosting from my face after being unceremoniously thrown out of the coffee shop, I realized that it was yet again time for another…

(Cue Theme Music)

Well, I thought, torture warnings aside, this should be a relatively safe mission. I figured that I would be able to do the whole thing from the security of my own home.

I was wrong.

Finding a terrorist website was easy enough. Google is a wonderful thing. (Hint: terrorist, blog, islam, death to Americans) The only problem was, all of the Islamo-terrorist websites were in Arabic. And I don’t read Arabic. (I have enough trouble with English most of the time.)

I copied the page that I had found and saved it to a different file. Then just to be safe, I printed out a hard copy. Now I was ready to find a translator.

I had tried babelfish, but no dice, I couldn’t figure out how to work the translation programs. It looked like I was going to have to find a human translator. A quick check of the yellow-pages showed several local people who did Mid-Eastern translations. After checking the references on several of them, I chose the one with none. I figured that the other companies were trying to trick me into using their services. Only people who are trying to hide something have that many people tell you how good they are.

When I finally found the office, it was on the top floor of a disused grain silo, way in the back. But it did have a great view of the Federal Building and City Hall. I had to kick a few rats out of the way as I walked down the hallway to the office, and mentally I berated myself for leaving Slinky (the wonder Ferret at) home. When I knocked on the door, I heard what sounded like someone saying “Hide t’e miziles.” I wonder what that means in English? I wondered. Sometimes I really wish I was multilingual.

The door opened, and I entered. The man I assumed to be the translator was standing behind a large crate on blocks he was covering with a tarp. I looked down at the person who had opened the door for me and saw a small copy of the translator.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the man behind the crate said. “My name is Akhmed. I can translate any documents or papers you require. My diminutive friend standing next to you is Mini-Akhmed.”

“What does he do?” I asked.

“Mostly, he translates small things like notes, memos and Democrat Ethical Standards.”

I handed him the hardcopy I had prepared and he sat down and went to work. A half hour later, he handed me the translated copy.

The Evening Star of the Desert of the Tribes of the Nomads These are the Days of Our Jihad

Day 23
Momar is hogging the tent again. His prayer mat keeps coming over onto my side. Just because Most Holy Ka’amal favors him, he thinks he can push me around.

Day 25
Don’t have to worry about Momar pushing me around any more. He was overheard saying Most Holy Ka’amal was wrong about what soup to server with mutton. I’m just glad they put the stake with his head on it down wind.

Day 28
Most Holy Ka’amal made a speech today. In it, he said that Allah revealed to him that flies are the messengers of Allah. So now flies are holy and swatting them is a mortal sin. I guess that explains why Most Holy Ka’amal never bathes.

Day 40
Just got back from the mission Most Holy Ka’amal blessed us with. We wounded at least three of the infidels and only suffered minor losses to ourselves. Only 43 dead, praise Allah! Soon we will drive the dogs from our lands.

Day 45
Moving into a new camp higher in the mountains. I guess Most Holy Ka’amal didn’t like the view from the last camp because as we left he kept on muttering “I have to be able to see them coming…”

Day 51
Rained today. A miracle! Hopefully, this will help cut down on the holy messengers.

Day 63
Most Holy Ka’amal is giving another speech today. I wonder what he is going to name as holy this time…

As I finished reading the translation, I looked up to see Akhmed coming at me with a large knife.

“The holy messenger flies have ordered me to kill you,” he was saying as he lunged at me.

Startled, I jumped back, tripping over Mini-Akhmed. This knocked the hand grenade out of his hand, sending the pin flying in the process. The grenade rolled up to the large crate, stopping just under the corner of the tarp covering it.

“The missiles!” Akhmed shouted. He dove towards the crate and yanked the tarp off. This only caused the grenade to roll further under the crate.

Without giving it a second thought, I dove out of the nearest window. That second thought would have come in handy, as I now found myself hanging from a ledge high up on the abandoned grain silo. I looked down at the Buffalo River below and prayed that it was going to be deep enough. I let go of the ledge a split second before the top of the silo exploded. The last thing I remember before I hit the surface of the water was seeing a flaming Mini-Akhmed arc across the city skyline towards Lake Erie.

Some time later, I found myself lying on the shore of the river. I looked over and saw Slinky sitting there next to me drying himself off. As I sat there and stared at him, I could only think of three things.

One: When did Slinky learn how to swim?

Two: How did he find me?

And three: How am I going to get the taste of the Buffalo River out of my mouth?

Posted by GEBIV at 08:55 PM | Comments (4)

May 26, 2004

PGH: Stupid Poll Questions

I groggily stumped down the stairs to the pounding at my door. It was 2:00 in the morning and I was just getting to sleep after getting home an hour before. Sometimes, being on the closing shift stunk. As I fumbled with the lock, I couldn’t seem to get my eyes open. And then as the streetlight stabbed my retinas, I realized that my eyes had been open. The light was out in the stairwell again.

Blinking away the tears that the streetlight was causing, I tried to make out who was pounding on my door. Gradually, I was able to make out a ridiculous looking guy in a brass-buttoned, red jacket with a silly, red cap. Huh

I just stood there staring at him. Eventually, he seemed to get a little nervous and finally spoke, “Mr. GEBIV, I presume?”

I wasn’t the happiest person in the world at that moment, so my reply was a little terse. “Yes. What do you want, Stanley.”

The reference went right over his head. He immediately pulled a yellow piece of paper and a pitch-pipe from his pockets. Just then, the horror of it dawned on me… a singing telegram.

“Agent GEBIV,
Your mission,
Should you choose to accept it,
Is to
Discover what
Stupid poll questions
CNN will be putting up
On their web site

This message will
In 10 seconds.”

I snatched the paper from his hand and threw it one way while shoving him off of the porch in the other direction. “Run!” I yelled to him as I took cover behind the patio furnature.

A muffled explosion shook the night, but not from the direction that I expected. I looked over to where I had sent the telegrapher and winced. I guess the last line should have been “This messenger will self destruct…”

As I watched the silly, red cap roll down the street, I knew that it was time for yet one more…

(Cue Theme Music)

My first thought was to get my blogless brother in on this one. I just had to hope that he had his phone on. Since he had moved to Ohio, he had effectively put himself out of “drive-over-and-wake-him-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night” range. Fortunately, he was still up. I guess he hadn’t gotten out of his third shift sleeping habits yet.

“Culbrez, can you hack into the CNN computers for me?”

“Sure thing. Just let me finish this round of Halo.”

Ten minutes of listening to him swear at backstabbing team-killers later…

“OK, I’m back. What are we looking for?”

Leaving out the singing, I filled him in on my assignment. And I added, “Whatever you do, please don’t open any files labeled ‘Penguins.’”

“We’re not hacking into Evil Glenn’s computer.”

Moments later, he said, “OK, I’ve got it. I’m sending it too your e-mail right now.”

I quickly logged onto my server and opened the file he sent me.

To: CNN website programmers

From: Kerry presidential campaign headquarters

Re: Website polling questions

Here are some “unbiased” questions we would like you to include in your web-site polls.

Would you say John F. Kerry:
a) Is Presidential looking
b) Is Presidential sounding
c) Has a presidential bearing
d) All of the above

John Kerry’s Vietnam service gives him _____ ability to be Commander-In-Chief than Bush.
a) More
b) Much More
c) There is no comparison
d) Bush has no ability

George Bush is the worst president:
a) Since Nixon
b) Of the last 50 years
c) Of the last 100 years
d) Since the ratifying of the Constitution

a) Was staged by right-wing conservatives
b) Could have been prevented by Bush
c) Was retaliation for Abu Ghraib
d) Never happened

If John F Kerry becomes president; in the future, when his head is put on Mt. Rushmore, it should replace:
a) Washington
b) Jefferson
c) Roosevelt
d) Lincoln

John F Kerry is _______ Bush
a) A better presidential candidate than
b) Better looking than
c) Smarter than
d) Going to beat

CNN is:
a) Less biased than Fox News
b) Unbiased
c) Better than Fox News
d) The bestest source of news in the world

“This is just great!” I told my brother. “You don’t have to look any farther.”

“OK,” he replied, “I just want to see what’s in this file marked ‘Nancy Pelosi, before and after.’”

Nooooooo. But I was too late. His screams filled the phone receiver.

“Ahhhhhhhh. My eyes! They burn!”

How does he keep finding those files?

Posted by GEBIV at 09:22 PM | Comments (3)

May 21, 2004

Evil Glenn's Children

I had just finished a long day of heavy lifting. Whenever I closed my eyes, all I could see was boxes being stacked on boxes. And then they were moved into new piles somewhere else. And then it started all over again; put box on truck, drive truck, put box in storage.

It was all my blogless brother’s fault. A bit of good news and bad news, and a little bit of worse news all rolled together. The good news: my blogless brother finally figured out where he lived. The bad news: it was in Ohio, four hours away. The worse news: I had to help him move.

At last, at the end of a day of unwanted labor, I suggested we soak in the hot tub and relieve our aching muscles. As we sat there soaking and looking up at the stars, out of nowhere, a large owl swooped down and landed on my blogless brother’s head. We both did the only sensible thing we could think of and ducked down beneath the surface of the water. From the sound of screaming that I could hear through the water, I deduced that this did not please the owl. When I finally ran out of air, and had to surface, my brother was only half conscious and clinging to the side of the tub. His naturally strawberry-blonde hair was becoming a slightly deeper shade of red as the owl’s talons worked themselves into his scalp.

Silently, I cursed myself for going in the water without my dive knife. This was just the sort of reason why you always keep one with you; that, and the occasional pool shark. I was just starting to contemplate going hand to hand with it, when I noticed a small cylinder attached to the owl’s leg.

Oh great, another assignment from Harvey. I thought. I was right.

As soon as I popped the message cylinder off of the owl’s leg, it immediately took flight and disappeared into the night. Owls aren’t the symbol for wisdom for nothing.

I unfolded the paper, and read the words that I was all ready starting to regret…

“Agent GEBIV, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to determine what names Evil Glenn would use for his children. The fate of the entire world could rest on the information that you uncover. With a mission, this important, you would rightfully expect the full aid and support of the entire Alliance. So it wouldn’t really be fair that if you were discovered, we would disavow all knowledge of your actions. But that’s what we will do. So don’t get caught.

This message will self destruct in 5 seconds…”

I quickly threw the balled up paper straight up into the darkness and ducked back underwater. As the resulting fireball lit up the night for miles around, I knew that it was time for yet another…

(Cue Theme Music)

Unfortunately for my blogless brother, he hadn’t regained enough consciousness to duck under the water when I did. But on the plus side, the intense heat from the blast cauterized all of the owl scratches on his head. And he won’t have to pay for a haircut for several months.

I revived him by dunking him, headfirst, into the still chilly water of the rest of the pool. Soon, he was coherent, and we quickly set up his laptop and satellite up-linked modem on the picnic table.

First, we were going to check Evil Glenn’s personal records, to see if he already had any children. But we decided there would be too much risk of actually seeing the result of Evil Glenn reproducing, so we changed tactics. Instead, we hacked into his personal journal; the files where he puts his most personal thoughts. Thoughts that were so personal, he wouldn’t even dream of posting them on the Internet.

After firing up a powerful search engine that Culbrez had been creating in his spare time, we found what we were looking for. An entry in Evil Glenn’s personal diary.

Dear Diary,

It was such a rough day ruling the blogsphere today. I swear, the one more “Indeed” and my fingers will just DIE. ::pout:: That pesky Frank J. is bothering me again. I think I’d like to punch him. Whenever I think about him, my puppy-shakes just seem to loose their zing. I may have to start blending babies again to get back to my old form, and you know how the police always make a big stink over that. ::shudder::

Oh, I had a wonderful evening with Fatty Sue last night. The only thing is, she doesn’t want any children yet. I guess she just doesn’t hear her biological clock ticking away ::tick tock tick tock:: like I do. I spent the whole morning just daydreaming about what we would name our kids.

If we had a girl, I think I’d like to name her Wrap. That way, when we went to visit all of my communist buddies in China, they would call her Reynolds Wrap. Heh, silly Asians.

I’d like a boy though. We would name him Little Evil Glenn. I’d call him Leg for short. Just think of all the fun Leg and I would have beating hobos and training Attack Rabbits.

I asked Fatty Sue what she would name a girl if she had one. She says that she would name her Betty, after her hero Betty Crocker. (silly girl)

Then I asked her what she would name a boy. Do you believe she said "Harvey"? I asked her why, and she said that she thought that the boy should be named after his father.

Posted by GEBIV at 08:21 PM | Comments (1)

May 14, 2004

Filthy Lie: Evil Glenn's Fed-Ex Package

I was sprawled on a lounge chair waiting for the pool to fill up. The heat and humidity had sapped all of my energy, and all I could do was wait for the cool refreshing water to reach the proper depth for a swim. I glanced over to the pool, interrupting my in depth study of the clouds, and noticed a small toad sitting in the shallow end, right above the slowly rising water line. I knew that even the chlorine levels of the tap water would be enough to eventually kill it. And I couldn’t stand the thought of it dying in the pool. It would clog the filter up something fierce.

So I peeled myself off of the plastic chair and climbed down into the pool. The little creature just sat there, and was no problem to catch. As I picked it up, it started talking to me.

My first thought was that I had been out in the sun a little too long. This was confirmed by my second thought Cool, a talking frog. Then, as I started to pay attention to what it was saying, I comprehended what it really meant.

“Agent GEBIV, you mission, if you choose to accept it (croak), is to determine what was in the Fed-Ex package Evil Glenn received this week. (Ribbit) If you are discovered, we will probably be able to spring for bail. (croak) Harvey had a good day at the tables, and the Alliance is pretty flush right now. But try not to get caught, it would hurt our year end bonuses.

“This message will (croak) in 5 seconds…”

I threw the robotic-toad-messenger into the deep end and scrambled out of the pool. I rolled over the lip of the concrete patio just as a twenty-foot geyser erupted from the water. As the water splashed down all around me, I realized that it was yet again time for another…

(Cue Theme Music)

I knew that computer abilities would be unnecessary on this mission, so blogless brother Culbrez wouldn’t be needed. Which was a good thing. The last I had seen him, he had been trying to photograph the sun again. (“Ahhhhhhh. My eyes. They burn.”) So he was out of commission anyway.

But this assignment looked like it was just up the alley for Slinky, the Wonder Ferret, and me. I grabbed his luxury travel case, jumped in the Jeep and headed to Evil Glenn’s Evil Fortress. (On an aside, never try to put a ferret in anything but luxury accommodations. The only time that I made that mistake he made his displeasure known very quickly. Fortunately, none of the nerve damage was permanent.)

We arrived at Evil Glenn’s shortly after nightfall. My timing, or my luck was nearly perfect. Unfortunately, Evil Glenn had beefed up security since the last time I had been there. I wasn’t worried about the squads of Attack Rabbits; Slinky could take care of them. But the machine-gun nests with the spotlight towers would be a little too much for me to sneak by. But I had the perfect solution.

“OK, Slinky. I need you to go in there and get the Fed-Ex package that Evil Glenn recently received. Got it?”

He nodded his furry little head once and disappeared into the darkness. The only sign I had of his passage were the squads of Attack Rabbits fleeing in terror. That, and the occasional shape of dead rabbits picked out by the spotlights.

A few minutes later, he was back. He was dragging a box behind him as he bounced into view. It was a plain brown box, but I could just make out the address label on the top.

Acme Novelties 1313 Novelty Drive Hollywood, CA 08934

Evil Glenn
Evil Glenn’s Evil Fortress
1 Evil Fortress Drive
Tennessee 74612

But when I opened it, it was empty. Slinky brought me just the box. I wasn’t sure, but I had the feeling that he was enjoying this.

“All right,” I said to him. “I need you to get what was IN the box. Understand?”

Once again, he nodded his head and disappeared into the night. This time, I couldn’t track him at all. There were no rabbits left in the entire compound. Finally, at least fifteen minutes later, he was back again. I wasn’t able to make out what he had until he came right up to the tree I was sitting under. As he jumped up to me, he dumped a handful of small white objects into my lap.

“Packing Nuts?!?” This time I knew he was making fun of me. There was no way that he could have thought that this was what I wanted. And to top it off, he was lying on his back laughing so hard he had to clutch his stomach.

I picked him up by his scruff and held him up at eye level. Big mistake.

A few minutes later, I had most of the bleeding stopped and was giving him orders again. “Please, please Slinky. I need you to bring me back something that shows what Evil Glenn got from Fed-Ex. There’s a bag of banana treats in it for you.”

The gleam in his eye told me that he had what he wanted out of the deal, and again, he slipped off into the compound. Almost an hour went by, and then he was back. In his paws he had a small slip of paper.

I carefully unfolded it and read.

Congratulations on your new purchase. Here at Acme Novelties, we endeavor to produce the best quality products in the industry. Our quality control testing surpasses even that used by Major League Baseball’s drug testing program.

We hope that you will have many years of productive use out of your new purchase. And we thank you for giving us your business.

Stupid ferret, this is worthless. I turned to give Slinky a piece of my mind, and he jumped up and turned the paper over. Oh, the other side.

Order Invoice:

One (1) container, all purpose penguin polish.

Ewwwwww. I didn’t want to learn anything more of Evil Glenn that night, so I packed Slinky back up in his luxury travel case, tossed in his bag of banana treats (you never go back on a deal with a ferret...), and climbed back into the Jeep.

Maybe the pool will be ready by the time I get home.

Posted by GEBIV at 09:22 PM | Comments (7)

May 09, 2004

Filthy Lie: Evil Glenn's First Post

Gradually, I drifted back towards consciousness. But at first I couldn’t place where I was. Then slowly, the details started popping back into focus until with a rush, it all came back to me. I knew where I was and how I got there. But I still couldn’t figure out how to get out.

It had all started so innocently…


It was late at night, and I was at a gas station up town, filling the tank on the Jeep. I had just finished up and paid with my credit card, and was now waiting for my receipt. While I waited, I idly read the digital message display on the pump. Hmm. Hot dogs, two for a dollar.

Then, the display went blank and a new message started crawling across…


Well, that hardly seems fair.


Oh boy!

I jumped into the Jeep and stamped down hard on the gas. Tires squealing, I raced across the parking lot, over the landscaped embankment and onto the street. With an ear-shattering thunderclap, the gas pump behind me detonated.

As I raced the fireball down the street, I realized that it was time for yet another…

(Cue Theme Music)

First things first. I had to try to get a hold of my blogless brother, Culbrez. After an annoyingly long time, he finally answered in a groggy voice. “Where are you?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I think I hit my head again. I was just driving along and a Jeep jumped out in the street in front of me. And then just as I swerved, a gas station exploded right next to me. That made me swerve back the other way and I ended up upside down in a ditch.”


“Umm, I think I can see the smoke.” Oh boy could I see the smoke. “I’ll be right there to pick you up.”

Ten minutes later, we were back on the road. I had stopped just long enough to grab my blogless brother and throw his computer gear in the back seat. Then we headed straight for Evil Glenn’s Evil Fortress. I knew that there was no way that Evil Glenn would have left his first post on-line, but I also suspected that his ego would be too great for him to have deleted it completely. So it looked like we would have to break into his Evil Fortress and physically access his files.

About halfway there, we had to turn around and go back to my place. I wasn’t going to assault Evil Glenn’s Evil Fortress without some backup. So we had to go back and pick up Slinky the Wonder Ferret. (Culbrez was only along for his computer abilities.)

Soon, we were at the entrance to the den of all things evil. I sent Slinky through first, to make sure that it was safe. The sounds of ferret combat that drifted back through the gate told us that we had made the right choice. I know that I didn’t want to face another one of those Attack Rabbits. A few minutes later, Slinky came back and showed us that the way was clear. As we waded through the aftermath of ferret on rabbit carnage, I couldn’t help but think, Man am I glad we went back for Slinky.

We had Evil Glenn’s computer up and running in a matter of seconds. While Culbrez started sifting through the electronic records of Evil Glenn’s files, I tackled the hard copies. Soon I was hip deep in paper, as I pulled folder after folder from the cabinets. Before long, I had found what I was looking for, a file labeled “Instapundit: Original Postings”

I held it up to show my blogless brother just as I heard him say those fateful words. “Hey, I wonder what’s in this folder marked ‘Penguins’?” Oh no, not again!

I tried to stop him, but it was too late. His screams filled the air as he ran off into the night. I just stood there dumfounded. How does he keep finding that stupid file?

Suddenly, I heard an evil chuckle coming from a door off to the side of the computer room. I looked over, but could only see a pair of legs wearing dark socks and sandals standing in the shadows. It was him! I tried to run, but found myself trapped by the piles of folders I had pulled out of the cabinets.

He stalked across the room towards me. Even as he entered the lit room, I couldn’t make out any of his features. It was as if he wore the darkness like a cloak and dragged it into the room with him. He plucked the unopened folder from my hands as I stood there helpless. But as he pulled it away, I was just able to make one grab at it. The paper tore under my fingers as I was unexpectedly struck from behind. As I slipped into unconsciousness, I could feel a small scrap of paper in my fist. With my last coherent thought, I was determined not to let go of it.

The next thing that I knew, I was being thrown into a small, windowless cell. But as they were attaching the shackles, I still had that tiny piece of paper clutched tightly in my hand.


That was three days earlier. At least that’s how long ago I think it was. The only indication I had of the passage of time was the infrequent meals and how long my beard had grown. As near as I could tell, I had a three-day shadow. Oh no! I thought, I’m going to be late with my Alliance Assignment.

Then the slot where they had been shoving my meals through opened and a small, lifeless, furry body came tumbling through. Not Slinky! As I reached across the floor the guard’s voice came through the opening. “Here, we’re tired of cooking your meals. Gnaw on this for a while.”

When I picked it up, I breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t Slinky. It was one of Evil Glenn’s Attack Rabbits. Then I noticed that it was freshly killed, and it was obvious that it was Slinky’s handiwork. Hope surged through me as I realized that he was still out there. With the hope came determination. No one was going to keep me in a cell if I didn’t want them to.

Summoning up all of my rage and pent up frustrations, I lashed out at the door with my foot. The kick sent it flying off of its hinges and across the room. I strode out of the cell, ready to take on whatever Evil Glenn had in store for me.

The sight that met my eyes was not what I was expecting. The walls were covered in fresh blood and bodies were piled up everywhere. And sitting precisely in the middle, was Slinky. The look he gave me was one of impatience, as if to say, “What took you so long?” I hadn’t even heard a sound, but it was apparent that this had all happened in the seconds before I had broken out of the cell.

I looked down at the smug looking ferret and shuddered. I was just glad that he was on my side. He led the way as we exited Evil Glenn’s Fortress. We soon found ourselves back where we had left the Jeep. There was no sign of my blogless brother, so I could only hope that he had gotten away. I knew that he hadn’t been held in the dungeons with me; Slinky and I had searched all of the cells before we left. I couldn’t help but wonder what had become of him, but I didn’t have any time to spare looking for him. I had to get the information back to the Alliance.

And what was on the scrap of paper; the information that I had risked life, limb and sanity to retrieve? What was Evil Glenn’s first post? Just one word:

Posted by GEBIV at 04:13 PM | Comments (5)

May 05, 2004

PGH: Kerry Website Improvements

I was out riding my bike. I just felt the need for some fresh air, so I strapped on my helmet, grabbed a water bottle, and started pedaling. After about 15 minutes, I looked down at the odometer to see how much distance I had covered so far.

Instead of showing me the mileage like I expected, the little display was just flashing, “Press button.” Oh great. Now what? I pressed the button, hoping that I hadn’t broken the stupid thing already. Immediately, a message started scrolling across the small screen.


Squirrel! I swerved, narrowly avoiding the suicidal rodent. Accident avoided, I looked back at the tiny display.


Oh great! What did I miss?


Oh boy.


The explosion threw me off of the bicycle. Fortunately, I was wearing my helmet. But while the helmet did a marvelous job of minimizing the damage to my head, it had quite the opposite effect on the windshield of the parked car that I hit. I suppose that meant that it worked perfectly.

As I hauled myself out of the back seat of the wrecked Kia Laguna I found myself in, I realized that it was time for another…

(Cue Theme Music)

I dragged what was left of my bike back towards home. Half an hour later, when I got there, I jumped right into action. First, the hydroxide. Then the iodine and Band-Aids. Once I was liberally covered in the plastic strips, I got to work on my mission.

I figured that the first thing I should do was to actually look at the Kerry website. (Waffles) But then I thought, That might be what Harvey had been warning me against. So, I decided that would be something to put off for a little bit.

So then I called my blogless brother’s cell phone. I was hoping to have a little bit of help on this one. He answered his phone quickly enough, but was still wandering around lost. I asked him if he could hack into the Kerry Campaign computers for me.

“Sure. No problem. Just let me hook up the wireless modem.”

“Careful when you log onto the website.” I told him. “I think there was a warning about it.”

“Don’t worry, I’m wearing sunglasses.”


“Yep. 99.99% UV protection too.”

That should just do it.

Moments later, he was in. “Hmm. It says that it’s under construction.”

“Can you get to the unpublished sections?” I was hoping to see what changes that the Kerry people were doing.

“I’ll do better than that.” He said. “I can get you to the web designer’s notes. Here, I’ll send it to your screen.”

A new window opened on my computer screen. It was just what I was looking for; all of the proposed changes to the website.

Kerry For President Website: Proposed Changes Dewy Cheetem and Howe, Consultants

With each issue statement, run a counter telling how many days since Kerry’s position last changed.

Mention Vietnam at least once in every sentence. (Already being implemented)

Have links to “Girls Gone Wild Website” (Suggested by Bill Clinton)

Have links to “Anything with Nekkid Wimmen.” (Also Suggested by Bill Clinton)

Make website more “Environmentally Friendly” by only using recycled electrons. (Suggested by Al Gore)

Have Nekkid Wimmen in the banner. (Suggested by Bill Clinton)

Post a Weblog detailing Kerry’s day-to-day thoughts, including all nuanced positions on key issues. Make sure to have no archives.

Lie about Bush. Remember, ‘The bigger the lie, the more people will believe it.’

Suggested Subliminal Messages:
- “SEX” (Suggested by Bill Clinton)
- “HILLARY ‘08” (Suggested by Hillary Clinton)
- Nekkid Wimmen (Bill again)
- “YEAARRRGGGGGHHHHH!” (Suggested by Howard Dean)

Have theme song running on the website:

(To the tune of ‘He’s a Lumberjack’ by Monty Python)
He’s a Liberal and he’s OK
He taxes at night and spends all day

He hugs the trees,
He eats his lunch.
He went to Vietnam;
He spent his wife’s money
And then he had Botox.

He’s a Liberal and he’s OK
He taxes at night and spends all day

He hugs the trees
He skips and jumps
He likes to press wild flowers
He supports gay marriage
And performs them in bars

He’s a Liberal and he’s OK
He taxes at night and spends all day

He hugs the trees
He wears Ray Bans,
Gucci and Armani.
If he runs out of money,
He’ll marry Donald Trump.

As I looked over what I had found, I heard my brother mumbling something over the phone. “What was that?” I asked.

“I was just wondering what was in this file marked ‘Kerry, Pre-Botox’?”

“No don’t!”

But I was too late. And his screams told me that his sunglasses weren’t enough protection either.

I guess there are just some things that are not meant to be seen.

Posted by GEBIV at 08:42 PM | Comments (4)

April 30, 2004

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…

(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.


'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.

Posted by GEBIV at 08:54 PM | Comments (4)

April 28, 2004

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…

(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.


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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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)

Posted by GEBIV at 08:11 PM | Comments (5)

April 23, 2004

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…

(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.’


‘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.

Posted by GEBIV at 08:59 PM | Comments (2)

April 21, 2004

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!


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…

(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.

Posted by GEBIV at 08:47 PM | Comments (2)

April 14, 2004

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!?


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…

(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.


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.


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.

Posted by GEBIV at 02:41 PM | Comments (4)

April 09, 2004

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.


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…

(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.

Posted by GEBIV at 09:02 PM | Comments (17)

April 06, 2004

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…

(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…’


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.

Posted by GEBIV at 10:18 PM | Comments (3)