(A Precision Guided Humor Assignment)
Since demanding to speak with President Bush is the hip and trendy thing to do these days, I decided to follow Cindy Sheehan’s lead and demand to speak with the President, too, because I want to know:
Who’s REALLY sitting in the prison cell in Iraq?
Is it Saddam Hussein?
Or is it actually best selling author Leo Buscaglia, presumably deceased since 1998?
Mr. President, I think the American people deserve to know the truth. All those lies you keep telling us… Please…
Stop.
In the name of Love.
Archive of entries posted on 24th August 2005
Today’s Haiku
A Story, Bit-by-Bit
Superego: Part 16 – Walking into Danger
PREVIOUS
How could I tell if I was scared? I don’t remember being scared before, but the feeling was like what it seemed fear should be – this nagging feeling that I didn’t want to continue onward.
So what was I afraid of? Not death, of course. Not the Detective – she might be able to see through my ruse, but that’s a contingency I’m always prepared for.
Something about this whole job to kill Senator Gredler was making me scared, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. Anytime I have emotions, it’s obvious why. How could I lose touch with myself so much as to have feelings I can’t understand?
“Are you all right, Rico?”
I quickly recovered. “Just thinking of yesterday.” The Detective bid me into the passenger seat of her car. “Don’t you have a partner, Detective?”
“Not at this time,” she answered as the vehicle rose into the air, “I’ll be meeting some officers in the area before I proceed with the investigation.”
“I assume you’re starting at a mosque.”
“We had pictures up on the news of those still left with faces,” she explained. Was she criticizing me for going for headshots? “One was identified as an attendee of a mosque on the edge of the city. I think our tips have come from Galtists, though, and I assume you know of their rivalry with Islam.”
I nodded. The Galtists were an alien religious group – inclusive to almost all sentients – known for occasional violence. I think they’d rather be known for their message of salvation through meditation, but violence always makes the news.
“Cyber-Islamists tend to work locally from a sympathetic mosque,” the Detective continued, “so this is worth checking out. I hope to get there right after one of their daily prayers.”
“Should be easy to tell right away from the leaders if they’re involved.”
She smiled. “You think?”
“Yes,” I said indignantly. “If this isn’t them, how many other mosques are there to check out?”
The Detective shrugged her shoulders. “I’ll get in trouble if I go around harassing people just because of their religion. I’ll actually have to use my detective skills if I don’t want to get yelled at..”
“If,” I repeated, and she chuckled. Luckily, I wasn’t concerned with religious tolerance. Actually, I’m usually never concerned with any tolerance whatsoever. I’d have to put those views on hold, though, so as not to scare off the fair Detective.
We landed near a patrol car. The building around us were ramshackled and vandalized. Probably plenty of people guilty of something around here… other than me, of course.
The officers were a human male and a Corridian female. They both stared at me. “So that’s the hero?” the male asked.
“Police officer on a planet called Rikar,” the Detective told them, “Good with a gun, but I didn’t have time for the paperwork to let him be armed.”
I smiled. “I brought a knife if that’s okay.” More than one, actually.
“So you’re doing this without any backup?” the female asked disapprovingly.
“I got Zippy with me… and I’m just asking some questions now.”
“Anything suspicious, call us and we’ll be there in a second,” the male told her.
“And do call us,” the female stated, “Don’t be stupid.”
“I’ll take the ‘not being stupid’ under advisement,” the Detective said dryly.
The male looked back to me. “Rico, do you have any idea what you’re getting into with Thompson?”
It was hard not to laugh. “Who doesn’t like a little adventure on his vacation?”
“He asked to come,” the Detective told them, “How could I say no to a hero?”
The male shrugged. “Fine. Just don’t get him killed.”
The officers got back into their vehicle and lifted off.
“So what was that about?”
“What was what about?” the Detective answered, beckoning me to follow her down the dangerous looking streets.
It was just a perfunctory question, anyway; I already gathered plenty from that exchange. “We’re walking?”
“From here on.”
“And who or what is Zippy?”
“You’ll see.” She stopped to look at me. “Now, if you keep asking questions all the time, that will be hindering me.” She smiled to try and hide whether she was serious or not. She was.
Near us, an alien grumbled something that my universal translator said meant “humans” though it sounded like an epithet. We both ignored him. “Now let’s find these murderers. Who knows how much time we have before they strike again.”
A reckless detective and a murderous psychopath posing as a police officer – now that’s a team. This was probably going to be a lot of fun… as long as we didn’t get ourselves killed.
Even if, maybe.
NEXT
In My World: The Hagel Stops Here
The hooded figure of Karl Rove emerged from the shadows. “Bush, I look at your poll numbers, and I see but darkness and foreboding.”
“I guess I won’t be reelected then,” Bush chuckled as he sat at his desk, “Now, do you want to bet how many Twinkies I can stuff in my mouth at once?”
“Your poll numbers must be a shining beacon that continues to lead the Republicans,” Rove told him, “You must improve them. And, when you rode bikes with Lance Armstrong and kicked him into a tree, that did not help.”
“It’s not my fault he didn’t ask what the rules to our bike race was!” Bush answered indignantly, “The important thing was I won!”
“Still, it played poorly with the masses.”
“Well, if someone is so dumb they don’t like me, I don’t want them liking me,” Bush asserted.
“I AM YOUR MASTER!” Rove thundered as the windows in the room shattered, “YOU WILL DO AS I SAY!”
“Fine,” Bush groaned.
“Mick of Jagger has a song exposing our evil neocon cabal,” Rove stated, “He must be silenced.”
“No problem.” Rove faded back into the shadows, and Bush looked to the door to his office. “Scott!”
The White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan came running. “What do you need, Mr. President?”
“Kill Mick Jagger.”
“Uh… first off, I’m a Press Secretary – I don’t kill people. Second, what you’re asking is highly illegal and immoral… actually, that should be my first point…”
Bush picked up a baseball bat and waved it over his head. “You do it now and stop being such a baby. Once you do it, I’ll pardon you which will make it both legal and moral. Now get going before I get swinging!”
“Okay! Okay!” Scott shouted in fear as he ran away.
“Once he does it, I’ll just say he never worked here and I never heard of him. Muh ha ha ha!” Bush laughed evilly to himself.
Rumsfeld came barging in the office followed by his dog Chomps who was biting angrily at the air around him. “Senator Hagel compared my war to Vietnam!” Rumsfeld yelled in rage, “That’s outrageous! I will win this war and not chicken out because of noisy hippies! I want Hagel’s head on a pike.”
“No more heads on pikes, Rummy,” Bush answered, “Hagel will be here soon, but I will handle this my way. Just follow my lead.”
Hagel came into the Oval Office. “What do you want? I have numerous press appearances to make.”
“Help me lift my desk, Rummy,” Bush said as he lifted one side and Rumsfeld lifted the other.
“Can’t you move your furniture later?” Hagel asked angrily.
“Heave ho!” Bush yelled, and they flung the desk at Hagel so it landed upside down on top of him, Hagel’s legs the only thing sticking out beneath it.
“There, problem solved,” Bush said triumphantly.
“Back in my day, we didn’t solve problem through such complicated means as throwing a desk on someone,” Rumsfeld grumbled.
“Well, this is how we do things in modern times,” Bush answered.
Condoleezza Rice appeared at the door. She looked down at the desk. “Did you kill Hagel?”
“Maybe,” Bush answered, “His leg is twitching, though.”
Chomps started attacking the twitching leg.
“You might get in trouble for this,” Condi cautioned, “Hagel is a Vietnam vet with Purple Hearts.”
“I never got the point of Purple Hearts,” Bush stated, “In lots of videogames I’ve played, you get awarded if you don’t get hurt. Maybe we should do that in the military.”
“I think you should call an ambulance, though,” Condi suggested.
“I would, but my phone was on the desk.”
“All this talk is boring me!” Rumsfeld growled, “Let’s go declare a new war.”
“Nah, let’s go bowling instead,” Bush said, “I think there’s a bowling alley somewhere in this place… and a haunted cupboard!”
“Fine, let’s look for it,” Condi answered, “Shouldn’t you still be in Crawford, though?”
“People kept bothering me there,” Bush replied as he walked on top of the overturned desk, “I figured the White House was a better place to hide.”
They all left the Oval Office, Chomps trotting after them. “Will somebody help me?” Hagel squeaked from under the desk.
An apparition appeared. “I am the ghost of Nixon,” it announced in an unearthly voice.
“Are you a friendly ghost?” Hagel asked hopefully.
It just laughed.
Great thinkers run throughout Senator Hagel’s bloodline . . .
Everyone Loves a Good Story… and Some People Like a Mediocre One
I hadn’t posted about my story until now, but, since a few people seem to like it, I thought I’d mention the purpose behind it. Right now, I’m busy with this blog, the podcast, my full time job, and getting my IMW book ready and edited (though much of my free time still goes to videogames – is it my fault Resident Evil 4 is one of the best games ever made and has so much replayability value?). I really want to write novels, though, but, until I get my IMW book done, I don’t have time for that. So, to outlet some of that creativity, one day I just randomly came up with a start for a story (the first sentence is very important) and decided to write a few paragraphs a day which I thought would not be very demanding. As the story has evolved and I’ve gained more of an idea where it’s headed, it’s become more complex. I’ll continue onward, though, but I may have to just randomly stop each part in the future instead of each one coming to a neat conclusion (I’ve almost been writing full chapters for each part lately) so it’s not such a sap of time.
For those reading it, I hope you continue to enjoy it. I know it’s not very sophisticated sci-fi (I’m saving my energies for the novels I won’t be writing as serials and will also be in third-person), but I think it should make for an interesting character study. I doubt any of you will be able to figure out where it’s headed, and, as a warning, it will most likely get less humorous the closer it gets to its conclusion.
TRIVIA: Someone asked if Dip was based on the 20 questions game from 20q.net. He’s partially based on that principle, but he’s also inspired a little bit by a computer from another sci-fi novel. What computer is that?
Carnival of Comedy Reminder
Hey there pajamahedeen! The Carnival of Comedy is coming up Thursday, Aug 25th! Spooooon! Fooooork!
JimmyB everyones favor conservative UAW guy will be hosting the carnival at,um The Conservative UAW Guy for Week 17 on Aug. 25. It will be JummyB’s First! time hosting the carnival so please, be gentle.
Submissions:
Do you have a funny essay, fake interview or animal leavings for that matter any sort of funny (smelling or otherwise) anything, there’s still lots of time to ride the magic funny bus.
Carnival Scheduled Stops:
Week 18 – Sep. 1 – Doc Rampage Don;t let the ‘rampage’ stuff fool you, Doc’s heart is as big as the mondo graphic dominating his blog.
Week 19 – Sep. 8 – Rapid Politics Rapid sounds good to me, this intralectoral time period is making me antsy.
Week 20 – Sep. 15 – Either, Orr Neither, nor, have, has, had, do. did. done,
Week 21 – Sep. 22 – Instapundit
Week 22 – Sep. 29 – Nobody yet
Want to host?
Send your mindless yammering re: hosting the Carnival of Comedy to flyingspacemonkey-at-gmail-dot-com. (substitute the appropriate nonsense, y’know the ‘at’ and the ‘dot’)
Still have questions?
Info about joining the Carnival of Comedy is here.
PS: Not a single woman has hosted the carnival yet. Just saying.
Brand name
The NCAA has discovered a basic principle of anatomy: you have to remove your head from up your ass to see the light so you can take your foot out of your mouth…
The NCAA will allow Florida State to use its Seminoles nickname in postseason play, removing the school from a list of colleges with American Indian nicknames that were restricted by an NCAA decision earlier this month.
The NCAA said it was recognizing the relationship Florida State has long enjoyed with the Seminole Tribe of Florida, which assists the university with its pageantry and celebration of its culture and supports the school’s use of its name.
“The staff review committee noted the unique relationship between the university and the Seminole Tribe of Florida as a significant factor,” NCAA senior vice president Bernard Franklin said in a statement released Tuesday. “The decision of a namesake sovereign tribe, regarding when and how its name and imagery can be used, must be respected even when others may not agree.”
And why was the team name on the list?
Florida State president T.K. Wetherell had threatened to sue the NCAA immediately after its Aug. 5 announcement that the school’s highly visible nickname, “Seminoles,” was defined as “hostile and abusive” by a committee.
That’s right. A committee decided the nickname was hostile and abusive, even though the tribe itself approved of its use.
I guess the committee didn’t have enough diversity, nor did they ask the Seminoles themselves.
Wow. What a committee. Do they do Bar Mitzvahs and weddings, too? Can they juggle and make balloon animals?
You know, the name of the NCAA President is Myles Brand.
I don’t need to remind you that slaves were often branded like cattle. Heck, the branding of cattle is considered cruel by PETA these days.
I think Myles Brand, head of the overly politically-correct and judgemental NCAA, should admit the cruel history of his name and be forced to change it.
UPDATE:
How long before the NCAA takes on the NAACP?
I Am Wise and All-Knowing!
I was looking at the reader suggestions, and decided to start with the idea that I make a SuperBowl prediction.
I, the great Frank J., say, that, in Janurary 2006, playing at the SuperBowl will be…