A reader is attempting yet again to put IMAO on Wikipedia. Here’s the entry.
This would be the third attempt. The first attempt (which was quite a while back if I recall) is, incidentally, the first time I heard the insult “sock puppets”. Those voting for IMAO were accused of being sock puppets, but I didn’t know what that meant then.
So, does anyone have experience starting a Wikipedia article and want to help give it a shot this time? I’ve only done minor edits to articles when I run into errors (yes, there are errors on some articles in Wikipedia). Apparently, the article needs some proof that IMAO is “noteable” (come on; I own the letter I-M-A-O, but we don’t get an article while a character from a Filipino fantasy TV series does?). According to Google, I’m like one of the most famous Franks; doesn’t that at least make me notable? Also, unknown to me at the time, there was a bidding war for imao.com so someone can get traffic from people mistyping our URL (I don’t know what happened to the Japanese industrial handle manufacturer Imao that used to own imao.com).
And how to we extract revenge if the IMAO article is rejected again?
Archive of entries posted on 26th July 2006
Fetal Farm Aid
Hello, everyone. It’s your old pal, Laurence Simon, and I’d like to apologize for not having written much in the past few days.
After President Bush vetoed Congress’ attempt to open up stem cell research and Congress failed to overcome that veto, it’s been fairly busy around here.
A lot of people have been mocking the use of the term “fetal farming” and I’ve got to say that the mockery needs to end and the understanding needs to begin.
There are literally thousands of family-owned fetal farms out there in the heartland that were already having a hard time making ends meet, working hard with the time-honored traditional culturing and harvesting of fetal stem cells.
Believe me, there’s no more honest day’s work than a man getting up at the crack of dawn to milk the zygotes and gather up the eggs. The salt of the earth, these people are.
Sadly, these people were already being squeezed out by corporate mega-fetalfarms buying up property, office space, and farm equipment. Access to the approved stem-cell lines was supposed to be guaranteed, but the mega-corporations have a habit of violating their timetables, or they hand over inferior lines of genetic research to the little man.
With the constant budget cutbacks of fetal farm subsidies and ruthless overseas competition (often state-subsidized, like Airbus is in the aircraft assembly industry), the Family Fetal Farmer may become a thing of the past now that the practice will remain illegal.
If you’ve never been to a Fetal Farm Harvest Festival or taken the time to learn more at your state’s annual fair, well, perhaps you should avail yourself to the opportunity next time you can grab at it – they’re not going to be around forever at this rate.
So, in response to this sociological disaster happening in our scientific heartland, I’ve been working with Willie Nelson to put together Fetal Farm Aid.
We haven’t come up with a venue, but we’re considering the Durham area to take advantage of the many research facilities there for after-concert protest marches. We’re just waiting for the permits and Willie to run out of dope long enough for his attorneys to clear his signature as valid.
Now, you’d expect such a concert to include Farm Aid regulars such as John Cougar Mellencamp, but we’ve been having a hard time reaching him since he’s been changing his name on a near-annual basis. Hopefully, he’ll stop changing it long enough for us to be able to look him up in the White Pages and send him a bus pass.
Then there’s the Grand Marshall of MC. Once again, Willie’s just too toked up to string three words together without him choking on a braid or getting confused with a Kinky Friedman For Governor rally, so we’re thinking about inviting a celebrity with name-recognition and a track record of supporting stem cell research.
The first person to come to mind was Christopher Reeve, but he hasn’t answered any of my letters, emails or calls. In fact, the last time I called, the number had been disconnected.
Did his wife Dana forget to pay the phone bill? She’s been so good to Chris up until now, I hope she isn’t cheating on him or anything.
Since the Reeves are being so difficult about it, I considered using Michael J. Fox as a backup plan. He’s been a strong advocate of the cause, and based on his guitar work in Back To The Future he might even be convinced to play a few licks.
Sadly, someone sent me a tape of Michael’s most recent testimony before Congress on the issue, and I’ve got to tell you: this man seriously needs help!
Wobbling, slurring his words.
I hope that someone who loves him dearly will get him into AA so he can kick the booze habit and straighten out his life. Maybe then people might be able to focus on his stand against blocking stem cell research for disfiguring and distracting degenerative maladies instead of his distracting behavior.
Hopefully, I’ll have more to report on Fetal Farm Aid in the near future.
Until then, do what you can to support your local Family Fetal Farm. In fact, why not head out there for a weekend and pick your own fetal farm fresh stem cells… it’s a lot more fun that picking raspberries or strawberries at a pick-it-yourself farm, and there’s certainly a lot less bugs flying around.
A Story, Bit by Bit
Hellbender: Part 20 – Panic
BEGINNING OF STORY
PREVIOUS (PART 19)
“You’re creepy.” Lulu fired a three-round burst from her pistol at Vera.
Vera didn’t react at all; she didn’t even flinch.
Charlene fired at the woman, and again nothing. Charlene looked more than a little concerned.
Vera laughed. “You people really have no idea what you’ve gotten yourselves into.”
“She’s one of the Fallen!” Doug pointed his knife at her while looking to Bryce. “Regular weapons can’t harm her.”
Bryce just appeared confused. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
For the first time, Vera looked a bit concerned as she now focused on Doug. “The Fallen? Where did you hear that term?”
“What’s the Fallen?” asked a dumbfounded Charlene.
Doug wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t feel like running up and stabbing the woman as that just seemed too awkward… plus the KaBar knife just didn’t feel as sacred anymore now that he saw one of the Fallen not be harmed in the slightest by bullets.
“Bryce, did we have a backup plan in case we were confronted with a bulletproof woman,” Lulu asked, staring at Vera with fearful eyes.
“I’m devising one.” Bryce dug through his pockets. “I had explosive cufflinks, but I wore a shirt that doesn’t use cufflinks…” He pulled out a pen. “That’s the flash grenade… and… ah-ha!” Bryce took out a cufflink and threw it against the wall where it stuck. “You have this.” He then tossed the pen at Vera. “Everyone else: duck.”
Simultaneously, the pen exploded in a flash while the wall to their side blew apart, peppering them all with debris. “Come on!” Bryce called as he disappeared through the exit.
Doug wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to stand and fight, but Charlene pushed him through the hole in the wall before he could decide. The four of them ran through the room to the hallway exit, all glancing behind them for Vera who was no where to be seen.
“What the hell is going on?” Charlene yelled.
They reached the stairway and quickly made their way up. “Don’t know,” Bryce said. “This one actually lands on Doug to explain, but why don’t we just get out of here and leave it all a moot point.”
“They’re like aliens that need to be sent back to a prison dimension that I was told about in a dream by…”
Bryce kicked the door open leading to the roof. “Save it for the ride home, Doug!” On the roof was a large landing pad upon which sat one military vehicle. They wasted no time getting inside. Bryce sat at the controls.
Charlene closed the side hatch. “You know how to fly this?”
“I took a few classes on VTOL vehicles.” Bryce fumbled at the controls in a way that didn’t look to Doug like he new what he was doing. Still, the vehicle finally lurched into the air and Bryce let out a victory shout. “Invulnerable aliens or not, we’re getting out of here with the hard drive!” He patted the case he that was hanging at his side by a shoulder sling. “Time for a paycheck, people!”
Lulu pumped her fist in the air. “Go Hellbender!”
Charlene turned to Doug. “Now, what are the Fallen?”
“Well… uh…” Doug looked out the window as he tried to put his thoughts together. He watched as the research building below them faded into the distance and exploded. “Did the building just explode?”
Bryce tried to look behind him while piloting the craft. “What? What exploded?”
Lulu stared out of the window. “The whole building.”
“Charlene! What did you do?” Bryce yelled.
Charlene looked towards the fire below them. “I didn’t do it! I still have my explosives.”
“Doug! What did you do?”
Doug scratched his head. “I’ve accidentally blown up lots of stuff before, but never a whole building… once a tool shed, though.”
“The entire building is gone,” Charlene said. “That was a professional demolition; are we being set up?”
“I don’t know why anyone would make such an effort.” Bryce looked at the console. “Well, look at all the pretty dots on the radar converging on us; that must be about the entire Asmod military. Everyone sit down and fasten your seat belts; we’re going to see how fast this thing goes.”
Doug finally put his knife away and got a seat next to Charlene. He was then pressed against the chair by a huge force as the craft rocketed forward.
“I’m taking us over the wastelands,” Bryce said with some effort against the pressure. “I figure we land a ways out of Proserpine territory and hoof it in. Then we deliver the merchandise, get our credits, and lie low for a bit. Sound like a plan?”
“Aren’t the wastelands full of flesh-eating mutants?” Lulu asked.
Bryce sighed. “Why does everyone have an irrational fear of flesh-eating mutants? We’ll just…” An alarm went off. “Crap.”
“What now?” Charlene demanded.
“Just a… um… hardware malfunction.” The craft suddenly slowed. Then it sped up in a new, more earthbound direction. Bryce now hit buttons on the console like a madman. “Everyone… um… how does that go… um… ‘Brace for impact.'”
NEXT
Help Save Science Fiction at Jim Baen’s Universe!
(NOTE: Frank J.’s hastily hacked together stories are in no way supported or condoned by Baen)
Carnival Of Comedy Reminder
July 27th is like tomorrow and The Kag Report will be the Host Site. Yay!
Hey losers, send your entries for tomorrow’s carnival here, or here!
——————————
Carnival Schedule
Aug 3rd Eteraz – He says he’s a funny muslim!
Aug 10th The Blue Square – He’s sad and his 4 sides all measure the same!
Links
This has to be one of the funniest The Onion articles in a while.
Whitler has a new essay up! He write good! And long!
We Call on the UN to Show Restraint
If Israel thinks it can win this war by killing the United Nations then it is sorely mistaken. In fact, I quote most Muslim scholars when I say that “if the UN survives, then that in itself will be a victory.”
For those of you who don’t know, four United Nations observers were killed yesterday by precision bombing. They did their job faithfully to the very end. Their final words were: “Look, I think I see one coming. Get those Hezbollah guys in here to safety.”
In light of this incident, we call on the United Nations to show restraint in their response. Having your people killed does NOT mean you should retaliate. This would be the perfect time for dialogue and understanding.
We will now field questions from our readers.
Is this an act of war?
Dropping several tons of munitions isn’t so much an act of war as it is a desperate plea for attention.
Israel dropped a bomb on the United Nations. Shouldn’t they be worried?
No, we checked with the Israeli Prime Minster and we are assured that they have other bombs.
Why do you guys have to be such smart-asses about everything?
We can’t help ourselves. We believe it might be genetic and therefore not our fault.
Do you think that the United Nations would counter attack?
The United Nations does not have a dedicated army. However they could indeed hire a bunch of dangerous goons to take out the Israeli leadership. The UN has contacts with some of the most blood-thirsty people in the world such as Mafia hitmen, paroled political prisoners, and nominees of the Nobel Peace Prize.
*
IMAO will provide updates and commentary on the situation as it develops.
In My World: @#$%!
Bush turned to Cheney. “Hezbollah really needs to stop this @#$%. Israel really has to go ahead and kill those mother@#$%ers. What do you think?”
“Hezbollah should go @#$% themselves.”
“Mr. President…” Tony Snow tapped Bush on the shoulder and pointed to the press who were staring back at them wide-eyed. “…the mike is on.”
Bush sighed. “Oh @#$%; not again. What we really need is a big @#$%ing sign that tells us when the mike is on.”
“We have one.” Tony pointed to a lit sign behind the press that clearly said, “Microphone On.”
“Well, we need a @#$%ing bigger one!” Bush looked to the press and smiled. “Anyway, what I wanted to tell you all was that I think there can be a peaceful solution to the crisis in the Middle East with no more deaths necessary.”
“Will this ‘peaceful solution’ involve the killing of mother@#$%ers?” a reporter asked.
“No… not necessarily.”
“What about the @#$%ing children!” Helen Thomas cackled. “Why won’t you stop the @#$%ing Israelis from killing children?”
Bush shook his head. “What the @#$% is she still doing in the White House Press Corps? Does anyone capable of coherent though have a question?”
“What exactly is Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice supposed to accomplish in her meeting with foreign leaders?” another reporter asked. “I mean, what the @#$% is she out there doing?”
“Well… uh… what isn’t she doing?”
“I’m here to help bring an end to this crisis,” Condi told the foreign leaders.
“How?” asked one of the foreign leaders, “You’re not doing anything but meeting with people for short talks.”
“Well… talking is doing something.” They stared silently at each other for a while. “I think we’re making progress.”
“Isn’t it true,” said a reporter, “that the U.S. is simply standing back and waiting for Israel to go ape-@#$% and @#$%ing kill everyone?”
“No,” Bush answered, “that’s not the full extent of our strategy. And, can everyone stop swearing? Kids could be watching this.”
“Research shows that the only people who @#$%ing pay attention to these press conferences anymore are the @#$%ing bloggers,” the reporter said. “Actually, I’d like to say this for any @#$%ing blogger who may be reading this transcript: @#$% you, you @#$%ing pajama-wearing, ankle-biting, basement-dwelling little @#$%!”
“Whatever.” Bush looked to the rest of the press. “Do you guys have questions on anything else?”
“I have questions about your incompetence in the war,” said one reporter.
“I have some about your trampling our civil rights,” said another.
“I have yet some more questions about Abu Ghraib,” said the New York Times reporter. “We’re planning yet another article on Abu Ghraib to accompany the article about a new secret program we found out about.”
“Well, this press conference is now over!” Bush yelled. He turned to Cheney. “These reporters need to stop this @#$%. We really should kill all there mother@#$%ers.”
“Mr. President…”
“I know the mike is on!”
Profit & Loss… Mostly Loss
(A Precision Guided Humor Assignment)
In a cost saving move, the New York Times will soon be printed on smaller sheets of newspaper, and will cut over 1000 jobs.
Apparently blabbing the details of secret anti-terrorism programs isn’t the money-maker they thought it would be.
And this is only the beginning of the exciting changes at the Gray Harlot. A number of other cost-saving and revenue-enhancing moves are in the works:
- Switching to discount brand “Gee, Your Whiz Smells Terrific!” urinal cakes.
- Eliminating wasteful i-dotting and t-crossing.
- Dumping over-paid reporters and getting news from know-it-all cab drivers.
- Instituting firm “no seconds” policy when hosting DNC fundraising dinners.
- Siphoning ink from New York Post printing presses.
- Hiring street-corner squeegee bums to clean the Times Building’s windows, and cutting their harness ropes just as they finish the top floor.
- Switching reporters to a flat salary instead of the current pay-per-lie arrangement.
- Refinancing mortgage on the Times Building and paying off those high-interest Mob loans.
- Switching from regular printer’s ink to much darker Hudson River water.
- Explaining to their paperboys that, for a mere $20 a week, they’ll “make sure nuthin’ bad happens to that nice little bike you’re ridin’… which would be a shame”.
- Using regular newsprint instead of that fancy, quilted kind.
- Stopping unrealistic “news stories unchallenged by bloggers for 30 minutes, or it’s free!” ad campaign.
- Firing their fact-checkers. They just sit on the computer playing solitaire all day, anyhow.
- Cease using William Hung songs as subscription order line hold music.
- Waiting until Democratic candidate bribe checks actually clear the bank before giving endorsements.
- Replacing boring news stories with hilarious “Fun Facts About the 50 States” pieces.
- Which would also increase the paper’s overall accuracy quotient.
- Saving on expensive photographer’s fees by replacing pictures of President Bush with royalty-free chimpanzee clip-art.
- Replacing ink-wasting word “insurgents” with shorter “dudes”.
- Three words – Arthur Andersen Accounting.
With these changes in place, the paper should be back on its feet, in the gutters, and raking muck in no time.
Today’s Simpsons Trivia
1) Sonny Storm is what kind of reporter in Springfield?
2) Who daydreams that Bart will someday become impaled on her Pulitzer Prize?
3) According to Apu, who designed Marge’s hair?
4) What role does Homer get in the Springfield Bicentennial Parade?
Official Trivia Card answers in the comments tomorrow.