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Archive for March, 2007

Today’s Top Google Search String…

Posted by scott on March 31st, 2007

(Updated below)
…bringing the inquisitive to World O’ Crap:

#1: “Nickelodeons out of control”

I’m glad to see that others are equally concerned about the dangers of recklessly exposing the American people to “moving pictures.” The flickering shadowplays of these rogue Phantascope parlors cannot help but erode the moral fiber of our honest yeomanry, what with their shocking images of “Man Sneezing” and “Train Pulling Into Station.”

If left unchecked, it is only a matter of time before the magic lantern industry, controlled by decadent New Jersey elitists, will sap America’s fighting will and embolden the Moro guerillas by displaying scenes of bloodshed from the Phillipine Insurrection.

#2: “Wonder Woman Chloroform Videos.”

‘Nuff said.

UPDATE: Seems we’ve been inundated by people who decided to spend their Sunday googling “Rod Majors” and/or “Corporal Sanchez,” and who were attracted, no doubt, by this post. Fine, no problem, live to serve.

But it did surprise me that World O’ Crap comes up first when you google “sticking head in vagina.” Now, we only received one such inquiry, but this is precisely the kind of thing that — to my mind — cries out for a response. So if you’ll forgive me, I’m going to step out from behind the curtain and address our Googler, man-to-man. Ahem…

Jonah. Look, I know you’re under a lot of pressure, what with all your groundbreaking, if extremely overdue, research for the book, and maybe we’ve all felt like this at one time or another. But believe me, man, this is not the solution! And while I don’t know her personally, it wouldn’t surprise me if you were really starting to get on Mommy’s nerves with this stuff.

I Looted Some Elven Gold, Some Chainmail, And An Interior Department White Paper

Posted by scott on March 31st, 2007

The Republican crusade against “science” (the polite word for that black magic brewed in test tubes) has seen a few defections lately, but there are still some loyal Bushies who are kickin’ it old skool (a radio format otherwise known as Urban VIII Contemporary). One standout is Julie A. MacDonald, deputy assistant secretary for fish and wildlife and parks, who combines the smug ignorance of James “Gore is full of crap” Inhofe with the greasy-palmed cupidity of Joe L. Barton (R-SquealLikeAPigForChevron), yet gives it all a fresh twist by rolling like Congressman Mark Foley. First, the warm-up, courtesy of TPM Muckraker:

Ms. MacDonald, whose job is to oversee policy decisions on endangered species and other wildlife, sent internal agency documents to industry lobbyists (e.g. she twice sent “internal Environmental Protection Agency documents — one involving water quality management — to individuals whose e-mail addresses ended in ‘chevrontexaco.com,”) and generally ran roughshod over agency scientists.

MacDonald tangled with field personnel over designating habitat for the endangered Southwestern willow flycatcher, a bird whose range is from Arizona to New Mexico and Southern California. When scientists wrote that the bird had a “nesting range” of 2.1 miles, MacDonald told field personnel to change the number to 1.8 miles. Hall, a wildlife biologist who told the IG he had had a “running battle” with MacDonald, said she did not want the range to extend to California because her husband had a family ranch there.

But here’s where Old MacDonald shakes up the usual Bush Administration malfeasance with a youthquake!:

In this episode, MacDonald unwinds by sharing internal agency documents with a virtual friend and demonstrates that she trusts the feedback of her fellow gamer, who’s apparently quite young, and her child over agency scientists…MacDonald said she is acquainted with the on-line friend through internet role-playing games. She said she engages in these games to relieve the stress created by her job; however, she said she has not played while at work.


Pantload For A Day!

Posted by scott on March 27th, 2007

Roger Ailes (The Non-Evil One) pointed out the other day that the release date of Jonah Goldberg’s hotly anticipated book, Liberal Fascism, has receded so far into the future that it’s now being edited by a Morlock. At the same time, Wo’C reader Kathy suggested that we stage another of our lame contests as a way to avoid coming up with any original content, and the thought occurred to me: Why not marshal the power of the blogosphere, and write Jonah’s book for him?

But before we can stage this literary barn-raising, we should probably acquaint ourselves with the subject and style of Jonah’s magnum opus, so that we can do justice to its groundbreaking scholarship, and sober, yet striking cover art:

Unfortunately, Jonah has been as cagey about the contents of his book as the Office of the Vice President has been about the actual number of people Dick Cheney has shot in the face while staggering around various game ranches, cranked to a frenzy on a cocktail of digitalis and Rumple Minze.

Fortunately, Jonah was moved to reveal certain, peekaboo details, when Tim Noah at Slate threw a little chin music his way. Unfortunately, Jonah was evidently in a Star Trekian mood at the time, channeling Captain Kirk from the “I” episode of The Original Series. (When Spock is unable to adequately classify a giant menacing space amoeba, Kirk rejoins, “If you can’t tell me what it is, let’s use reverse logic — Perhaps it’ll help if you tell me what it isn’t.“) And that’s exactly how Jonah describes his forthcoming (or, more accurately, eighthcoming) tome:

My book isn’t like Dinesh’s latest book. It isn’t like any Ann Coulter book. It isn’t what the Amazon description says or what the Economist claims it is. Or what Frank Rich imagines it is. It is a very serious, thoughtful, argument that has never been made in such detail or with such care.

And just to underscore what ruthless charlatans his publishers are, here’s the bottle of snake oil they’re trying to palm off as Jonah’s book:

Since the rise and fall of the Nazis in the midtwentieth century, fascism has been seen as an extreme right-wing phenomenon. Liberals have kept that assumption alive, hurling accusations of fascism at their conservative opponents. LIBERAL FASCISM offers a startling new perspective on the theories and practices that define fascist politics. Replacing conveniently manufactured myths with surprising and enlightening research, Jonah Goldberg shows that the original fascists were really on the Left and that liberals, from Woodrow Wilson to FDR to Hillary Clinton, have advocated policies and principles remarkably similar to those of Hitler’s National Socialism.

Goldberg draws striking parallels between historic fascism and contemporary liberal doctrines. He argues that “political correctness” on campuses and calls for campaign finance reform echo the Nazis’ suppression of free speech; and that liberals, like their fascist forebears, dismiss the democratic process when it yields results they dislike, insist on the centralization of economic decision-making, and seek to insert the authority of the state in our private lives–from bans on smoking to gun control. Covering such hot issues as morality, anti-Semitism, science versus religion, health care, and cultural values, he boldly illustrates the resemblances between the opinions advanced by Hitler and Mussolini and the current views of the Left.

Impeccably researched and persuasively argued, LIBERAL FASCISM will elicit howls of indignation from the liberal establishment–and rousing cheers from the Right.

So. Whatever you write, make sure it doesn’t contain any of that stuff.

So here’s the deal. Write a page of Jonah’s book and post it in the comments. The first page, the last page — whatever you prefer. And remember, he probably triple spaces, so it doesn’t have to be the length of an actual page. Just make sure that it’s serious, thoughtful, detailed, and caring. And that you outsource all the research to your readers.

Good luck to all. The winner will receive their choice of a copy of , or a World O’ Crap mug. Go forth and procrastinate.

The State Of The Blog

Posted by scott on March 26th, 2007

Well.  Hmm.  It pretty much sucks.  Not that this exactly qualifies as a news flash.

As careful readers will have surmised, things haven’t been going particularly well lately.  In addition to the loss of Hobbes, my grandfather is in rapidly declining mental and physical health, and the retirement community I moved him into in January has asked me to uproot the old gentleman instanter and consign him to a skilled nursing facility.  So I’ve been scrambling to find him a new home — preferably one that de-emphasizes its physical and professional resemblance to Bedlam and/or Samuel Fuller’s Shock Corridor, while simultaneously hacking away at two scripts that are now overdue on a near Jonah Goldbergian scale.

Meanwhile, in a Secure, Undisclosed Location, S.Z. — never the hardiest lumberjack in the greenwood — has been felled by the flu.  When I spoke to her the other day, she was feeling a bit better — nearly well enough to read Renew America — but it seems that Flossie

…yes, this innocent, yet oddly smug-looking character — ate her glasses.  Or at least, chewed them to the consistency of a veteran rawhide toy.  I know that sounds like a lame excuse (“I couldn’t finish my blog post, the dog ate my eyes!“), but s.z. offered to provide photographic evidence, once she got new glasses so she could locate the camera.  Anyway, the upshot is that her present inability to focus on the computer screen is denying her the spiritual engorgement to be found from the works of Doug Giles, Nathan Tabor, Pastor Swank, and other low-hanging Fruit Loops.

The bottom line is, we’re going through a rough patch, but we’re not about to pull a Bérúbé and defect to another blog (even if Sadly, No! would have us).  So in the immortal words of the Country Bear Jamboree attraction at Disneyland:

Please Bear With Us.

*Image courtesy of Yesterland, for all your dead Disney attraction needs.

Wide World O’ Crap

Posted by scott on March 26th, 2007

Seattle Dan is a contributor at the General’s place, and also the proprietor of Jackson Street Books, a fine independent bookstore which stocks, among other fine, independent books, . And he’s been kind enough to post a review here. Feel free to join in the chaos in the comments.

Happy Birthday, Maryc

Posted by scott on March 26th, 2007

Well, it’s been a tough week, and neither of us really feels like going out to celebrate.  But I’m afraid to simply ignore the occasion, for fear of inviting the bitter fate of Jimmy Wilson from the Mystery Science Theater 3000 episode, I Accuse My Parents.

As we all know, it was the failure of Jimmy’s parents to remember his birthday that sent him reeling, first into the arms of a kind-hearted but mobbed-up chanteuse…

“Tell you what, Jimmy.  You come by my place tomorrow morning about noon and I’ll fix you an old fashioned birthday breakfast.”

…and then into the Underworld, where Jimmy performed shadowy errands for a ruthless Mafia capo (renting cars, picking up packages, storing important papers in a safe deposit box) before two thugs mercilessly beat the crap out of him in an alley, despite Jimmy’s clearly telling them that it was his birthday!  After that, of course, he has no choice but to run away, traveling via an I Am A Fugitive From A Chain Gang-style montage, until, starving and desperate, he botches an armed robbery in Kansas which tragically culminates in Jimmy’s victim hiring him to flip burgers.

So, as I said, it’s been a lousy week, and I really don’t think I can handle it if the whole thing climaxes with Mary joining the Black Hand and going on a three-state crime spree because I didn’t make a big to-do about her birthday.  So just to be on the safe side, I’m ordering Chinese.

Many, MANY Heartfelt Thanks To All

Posted by Maryc on March 25th, 2007

The comments and words of sympathy were very much appreciated by all of us (even Riley interrupted her daily sunbathing to sit on my lap while I read through them).

We were “seeing” Hobbes all over the apartment, so we decided a quick change of scenery was in order. A weekend at the beach helped a little bit, but it was everyone’s kind words that helped the most of all.

There will never be another Hobbes, but I do know that there will be another “personality plus” kitten for me, and it’ll appear when the time is right.

Thanks again, you guys. WoC readers really are the best readers around!

(PS to Annti, D. and edward: Your little skirmish made me all teary! It was just like one of my family’s good old fashioned Irish wakes. I know Hobbes appreciated the near donnybrook almost as much as I did.)

To Hobbes, With Love

Posted by Maryc on March 22nd, 2007

People can often be divided into two groups: Cat People and Non Cat People. I am firmly on the side of Cat People. I’ve loved cats all my life and have been blessed with having the best cats (excluding SZ’s awesome horde, of course) in the whole world.

I’ve believed that what have set my cats apart from the rest, is that even Non Cat People like them. They’ve all had “personality plus”, whether it was their general demeanor, their playfulness, or their exquisite feline dignity. Non cat people have often said to me, “You know, I don’t generally like cats, but your cats are cool”. And, being the cat lover I am, I believe them.

Especially when it came to Hobbes.


When Hobbes Met MaryC

It was in my second year of teaching Kindergarten when one fine spring day, an adorable young cat (not a kitten, but not that far off from the kitten age) waltzed into the open door of my classroom. Immediately, my students shrieked with delight, “Can we keep it?!!”, as though all I needed was a cat-sized habitrail and we had a brand new classroom pet (our hamster, Gizmo had passed that January). “No,we can’t keep a cat in the classroom!” and I picked the long haired kitty up and proceeded to shove him out the first story window. I returned to my language arts lesson when–you guessed it–the cat came back, it wouldn’t stay away. I picked it up, and it hugged me. Literally. Both paws on my shoulders, holding me close and purring loudly. Suddenly, I had a cat.

I didn’t want a cat. My beloved “Kitty”(yeah, yeah, I know. Blame my mom. She trained my cat to come to “Kitty”. I had picked an elvish name from LOTR, good geek that I was…) had died that last december of old age, and I swore no other cat would ever take her place in my heart. But, there was this cat, hugging me and purring. And refusing to go away. And so, I had a new cat.


Hobbes and Maryc

This cat was all mine. No mom to name it something goofy, so I was determined to choose a cool name. Unfortunately, the cat was determined to ignore any name I chose. Even when I tried to bribe it with treats. I would call it by my latest chosen name (I think I tried Val Jean at one point, having seen the B’way musical that winter), but he wouldn’t have it. It wasn’t until one night, while I was reading a Xmas gift from my brother–a Calvin and Hobbes collection, that I thought, “Hobbes is a good name for a cat”. So I looked over at where he was dozing and said, “Hobbes?”, and he looked right at me. “So you’re name is Hobbes?”, he padded over to me and jumped in my lap. He not only chose his owner, he chose his own damn name. How very “Hobbes” of him.

Hobbes was everything you could want in a cat: dignified, playful and almost obscenely affectionate. He was the best friend I could ever ask for. What’s more, he was willing to share me. First with my boyfriend, and then (almost 4 years later) with a new little kitten (who also decided I was her owner) we named Riley.


March 21, 2007

On Wednesday, March 21, I took Hobbes to our vet, who verified my recent fears for Hobbes: he had lymphoma. It had spread to his heart and his liver. There was no treatment that would cure him.

They brought my boy into the room. Scott and I took turns holding him, saying good-by. Scott thanked him for sharing me for the past 10 years, and I told him how much I loved him and how I’d never forget how he came into my life, and as I whispered and stroked him, he gently, softly, and lovingly went to rest.

In his later years, Hobbes was our “punk”(always getting up on the couch and clawing the bejeebers out of it), our “Mr. Stinky”(whom Riley always covered for) and our “Poopsmith” (his droppings became legend). But no matter what nickname we came up for him, he was always, and will forever be, Hobbes–The best and coolest cat a human could ever hope for.

To Hobbes With Love

Bite Me, Park Service

Posted by scott on March 20th, 2007

With both Sadly, No! and Crooks and Liars apparently suffering the slings and arrows of outraged Michelle Malkin stalkers, we were feeling a bit left out, and wanted to get in on some of that sweet, sweet, Denial of Service action.  Specifically, we were curious to see if we could find some –or really, any — images that would help to substantiate or refute the wingnut claims that 30,000 would-be warriors attended the Gathering of Eagles counter-demonstration in Washington, D.C.  Naturally, I was inclined to declare that it was a figure randomly fished from Kristinn Taylor’s anus, except I’m pretty sure that Kristinn Taylor was a girl I dated in my junior year of high school (dirty blonde hair, as I recall, about 5’7″, good in field hockey, vice president of the Latin Club) and I don’t like to kiss and tell.  However, after an adroit bit of Googling, we discovered, to our astonishment, incontrovertible photographic evidence that supports the GoE’s claims:

A Gathering of Fleagles.

You can just make out the Washington Monument in the background, proving beyond a doubt that literally thousands of Fleagles (many of them wielding felt tongues and Fender Telecasters) gathered to defend the somber black granite monument that honors those brave souls who gave their lives in combat on Danger Island.  Dr. Hayden.  Link.  Chongo.  The list goes on.  What dirty hippie would dare approach this hallowed ground and let fly with their urine bombs and Silly String, knowing they must first fight their way through an army of Saturday Morning mascots voiced by Paul Winchell?

To paraphrase Henry V on St. Crispin’s Day:

One Banana, Two Banana, Three Banana, Four

Four Bananas make a bunch, and so do many more.

And so do many more.  And so….do many more.

The Hollywood Report with Maryc

Posted by Maryc on March 20th, 2007

Dateline: Hollywood! Grocery Store: Rock and Roll Ralph’s on Sunset! Why: Because we are out of food! Who: Samantha Bee!

How: I was taking my groceries to Cody The cool PT Cruiser (Tom Servo in Commando Cody: “That’s a cool car. That’s a cool Cody car.”) when an SUV pulled into the spot next to mine! An attractive and petite woman hopped out of the SUV and we glanced at each other. I thought, “Gee. She looks like Samantha Bee.” She proceeded to take a stroller out of her car and we glanced at each other again, so I said: “You know, you look a lot like Samantha Bee”. To which she replied, “Well, I am Samantha Bee!”, and as soon as she spoke, I knew it was really Samantha Bee. I shook her hand and told her how much we loved her on the Daily Show and she thanked me very appreciatively.

I then continued to put the bags into the back of my car, while she took her daughter, Piper, out the car seat and did a baby talk thingy while jiggling Piper about. I drove off, and I’m guessing she went grocery shopping because they were out of food, too.

So. There you have it. If you come to Hollywood, CA., don’t buy a map to the stars home! If you want to see stars, go grocery shopping at Rock and Roll Ralph’s on Sunset!

PS-according to the Liberal Wikipedia, she could be in town to shoot a pilot, or to pick up some Bumble Bee Chunk White Tuna: 10 for $10.