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Archive for August 17th, 2006

Hell Is Ann Coulter at an Airport

Posted by s.z. on August 17th, 2006

You think that the victims of floods, famines, war, etc., have it bad?  Well, it turns out that the people who really have suffered are those, like Ann Coulter, who have lived through the nightmare of airport security checks.

After five years of submissively complying with bag checks, shoe checks and underwire bra checks, Americans have now been informed that the hell we’ve been going through at the airports (but which the president and members of Congress do not go through because they refuse to fly commercial air) has been a useless Kabuki theater.

Please give generously to the “Stop Airport Goons From Pawing Ann’s Dainty Unmentionables” fund, and together we can stop this tragedy.

Also, please give generously to the “Buy Ann Coulter a Brain” campaign.  After all, like President Bush Dan Quayle sorta said, a mind is a terrible thing not to have.

Ann’s column starts with two things “we” have learned from the arrests of the alleged terrorist plotters in Britain:

1) Nothing being done by airport security since 9/11 would prevent a bomb from being brought onto an airplane; and

2) This terrorist plot — like all other terrorist plots — was stopped by ethnic profiling.

Her evidence supporting the first claim:

As we now know, all the ingredients necessary to blow up an airplane can be carried in small liquid containers. Airport security has not even been looking for small liquid containers

Well, I thought “we” knew that some of the ingredients would have to be kept in a cooler (or otherwise refrigerated), and that equipment to mix up the concoction would be needed, as would some kind of electronic device to detonate the bomb.

And even so, it’s unlikely that a bomb could be produced on a plane, and even if it was, it’s even more unlikely that it could bring down a plane.  Check out Mass murder in the skies: was the plot feasible?” for details.

Now, on to the evidence of Ann’s second claim:

What stopped last week’s terrorist attack was ethnic profiling. We don’t know the details of the British intelligence work that nabbed the 24 Muslims because The New York Times has not been able to obtain that classified information and publish it on its front page yet. But it is a fact that you could not catch 24 Muslim terrorists by surveilling everyone in Britain equally.

While it is true that we don’t know all of the details of investigation (or really, any details — the British have been pretty close-mouthed about the whole thing), the word on the street is that the intelligence community got the information about the plot from informants and from intercepted communications. 

In any case, it is a fact that they did not catch these suspects (it’s now down to 23) by surveilling all Muslims in Britain equally.   And THAT, Ann, is what “ethnic profiling” means.

But, hey, I guess I should give Ann a break: after all, she has gone through the hell of having declasse federal employees looking at her underwear, and that has to leave some crippling emotional scars. 

Our Michelle Malkin.com Terrorism Alert for Today

Posted by s.z. on August 17th, 2006

ZARDOZ — Act III

Posted by scott on August 17th, 2006

And now, the thrilling conclusion to ZARDOZ!

Sean attends Charlotte’s PowerPoint slide show on The Lost Art of the Erection.  Apparently, the Eternals can conquer death and construct giant flying heads, but they can’t figure out how the peepee works.  Charlotte, as part of her Show ‘N Tell segment, makes Sean watch Cinemax in an effort to put a Lincoln Log in his Huggies, but it doesn’t have the desired effect.  However, just when her presentation is circling the drain, the Soundtrack from Fantasia arrives to give Sean a huge pulsating boner, which is symbolized by a cutaway to a llama.

These events may be unrelated, but the next day at lunch, an embittered Friend decides he doesn’t want to sniff the baguette.  The other Eternals respond to this mutiny by humming like a model train transformer while Carrot Top does a sinister jazz hands routine.

Sean decides he’s had enough up this and climbs a hill so he can do mime in peace.  Despite presenting a killer “trapped in the invisible box” routine, he sustains a critical drubbing, so he heads to the Sizzler to blow off steam and gets badly mauled by a group of elderly patrons who don’t appreciate him gadding about in a diaper while they’re trying to enjoy the Early Bird Special.

Then Charlotte and Sean fight over a poncho and Sean goes blind, but Princess Leia suddenly appears and performs Lasik on him, then warns him that his strength will inevitably fail, and when it does, he should eat some spinach.

The Eternals trap Sean in one of those inflatable Jolly Jumpers and start beating him to death, but he confounds them at the last possible second by throwing a handful of Gold Medal flour in their general direction and escaping!  Then he runs back to the top of the hill and violently vogues.  When this doesn’t seem to help, he goes to hang with the Apathetics since at least Boorman didn’t give them any dialogue.  Unfortunately, the catatonic women magically awaken when they taste his underarm perspiration.  This inspires a tepid lesbian makeout scene, but it doesn’t last, and suddenly all the apathetic Flemish chicks are moaning and licking Sean, so he frantically eats his spinach, then runs a 10K while an angry posse with severe erectile dysfunction gives chase.

Eventually, he’s saved by the elderly Sizzler patrons, who make him wear Miss Haversham’s wedding dress while they wander around with Roman candles as the Apathetics, still hopped up on Sean sweat, hump on the lawn ornaments.

Orangina realizes that, although the members of the Vortex possess the sum of all knowledge, Sean is a physically superior mutant who can pop a chubby at will, so he wins.  She figures that, if you can’t lick ‘em, then…well, lick ‘em, and tells Sean, “We will touch-teach you, and you will give us your seed.”  Sean agrees to this bargain, but adds, “Um…I’m gonna need a magazine.”

So Princess Leia gets naked and speaks Swedish while math problems are flashed on her skin by the Eternal AV Club’s Kenner Give-A-Show! Projector.  Then suddenly everybody is nude and covered in algorithms and speaking Albanian and nattering on about Ethelred the Unready and the Gadsen Purchase as Sean crams for his midterms.  Finally, Sean’s apotheosis reaches a climax as a girl with staticky hair sells him a large cubic zirconium.

Sean absorbs the sum of all human knowledge, and promptly realizes that he looks ridiculous in this diaper, so he goes and puts on some gauchos.  Charlotte sneaks up behind Sean with a huge knife, but she’s so moved by his attempt at pants that she instantly falls in love.

Then Sean sneaks into the Mormon Tabernacle, which doesn’t look at all like I thought it would – a lot more labyrinths, bleeding mirrors, and interpretive dance recitals by disembodied heads than you’d expect.  Meanwhile, the Flemish peasants break into the workroom on Project Runway and vandalize some dress forms.

Sean tells Orangina and Charlotte, “Stay close to me.  Inside my aura,” then sticks out his hand, which causes the film to reverse (but not, thankfully, to the beginning).  Then the Santa Head Hot Pants People ride in waving their guns.  Suddenly, the screen is filled with men and women staggering around shouting “kill me!  KILL me!”  Since we’ve never seen most of these people before, I can only conclude that they’re members of the film crew who have finally snapped.  Meanwhile, Sean and Charlotte run off and hide in Injun Joe’s cave.

Suddenly, she’s nude and giving birth.  Then Sean and Charlotte are sitting on a rock in the cave, and staring expressionlessly at the viewer just like American Gothic, except they’re both topless and she’s and nursing a baby.  Then, we dissolve and they age a bit – the kid is about 5 years old now – but they’re still sitting on the rock, although now they’re dressed in forest green, Napoleonic-era greatcoats.  Another dissolve.  They’re still there, still modeling the coats, and the kid is about ten.  Another dissolve.  Nobody’s moved.  The kid is about 18 and sporting long, unkempt hair and a rawhide loincloth like Tarzan.  He looks at over Sean with an expression that plainly says, “Um, Dad?  Can we get up off this rock now?”  Sean doesn’t respond, so the kid pulls one of those “You guys are so bogus!  I am so OUT of here!” faces, and stalks off camera.

Now that the kid is no longer sitting between them, Sean and Charlotte join hands, and continue to decay in their overcoats.  Through a series of painfully slow, yet hilarious dissolves, they rot into skeletons.  Then the connective tissue decomposes, and at last they’re a big, disorganized pile of bones, and the camera pans up to Sean’s rusted gun hanging on the wall of the cave, beside two handprints that were apparently created using the science of Kirlian photography.  Bet you didn’t see THAT coming, did you?!

 Oh.  Um.  The End.