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Archive for January, 2008

Sunday Cinema Presents The Batman in: When Zombies Attack!

Posted by scott on January 20th, 2008

Chapter Three: Mark of the Zombies!

I was hoping the title referred to an actual person — like Lawrence of Arabia, or Sgt. Preston of the Yukon — named Mark, who hobnobs with the Undead, because frankly I’m kind of sick of The Batman and Robin, and could really go for a new character right about now. Alas, it’s not to be, so let’s suck it up and review: so far, the two big cliffhangers have both involved The Batman falling off a building (Click here and here for the tedious details). This time, however, the filmmakers spice it by having our frequently plummeting hero drag Linda to her death along with him, as the two free-falling lovers unite to squish Robin.

How does The Batman survive this time? Honestly, I haven’t a clue. It appears that Robin throws The Batman a line as he plunges 32 feet per second per second, he catches it, performs the Indian Rope Trick in mid-air, then shins safely down to the ground with his unconscious girlfriend still draped around his shoulders like a mink stoll. Of course, due to the Ritalin-deprived editing, I can’t be entirely certain this is what happened, but I’m pretty sure I saw Hadji do a similar thing once on Jonny Quest.

As you recall, in the previous episode, Daka’s Chief Thug Foster also performed a bit of legerdemain, grabbing a live wire barehanded and magically using it to turn an ordinary steel cable into that fuse from the opening credits of Mission: Impossible! But having failed to kill the Caped Crusader by electrocuting himself, Foster suddenly remembers that he has a gun, and – feeling a little sheepish, I’m guessing – pulls it out and starts shooting. But it’s too little, too late.

The other thugs predict that Daka won’t be pleased, but Foster hotly retorts, “I’m not afraid of him or any other squint eye!” (Meaning, I presume, that he is also not afraid of Robert Newton’s Long John Silver from Treasure Island.) So while Foster is a traitor, a saboteur, and a murderer, at least he isn’t sporting a pair of epicanthic folds.

True to the thugs’ premonitions, Daka is irked at this latest in their unbroken string of blunders, and acts out by putting Uncle Martin under a hair dryer festooned with spark plugs and a rearview mirror. The doctor turns on a bunch of non-UL approved appliances he got at the Castle Frankenstein yard sale, and Uncle Martin’s salon-style dryer hood fills up with thick, roiling smoke that looks less like a special effect and more like an industrial accent, but either way it probably explains why we never see this actor in another movie.

Having zombified Uncle Martin and given him a Marcel finger wave, the thugs fit him with his own electronic non-thinking cap fashioned from a vibrator and a Salad Spinner. Then Daka picks up a Mr. Microphone and tells his newly made slave to stand. Uncle Martin stands. He tells him to turn to the left, and he turns to the left. He orders Uncle Martin to follow him, and he does, thus demonstrating Daka’s total and irresistible control, and the zombies’ basic need to be micromanaged. But then the Japanese spymaster promptly ruins the effect of his sinister mind-control transmitter by singing karaoke through it and shouting at passing girls, “Hey good-lookin’, I’ll be back to pick you up later!”

Meanwhile, back at Wayne Manor, we learn that Bruce has placed an ad saying that he’s found a radium gun and asking the owner to contact him, in the hope that Dr. Daka will see it while checking Craig’s List for local Full Body Sensual Massage therapists.

Cut to an office, where Alfred is donning a false beard. Not to disguise his identity – none of the thugs have ever seen him – but because, well, beards and Batman just go together, much the way that Shakeys has managed to unify the normally discrete elements of Food, Folks, and Fun. The thugs show up, threaten Alfred, then The Batman and Robin burst through a window and it’s on, bitch! To be honest, the action that ensues is less of a fistfight and more of a heavily clothed orgy, with the heroes and the thugs all rolling around together on the floor like a Wesson oil party at Plato’s Retreat, except without John Bolton or Florence Henderson.

The Batman and Robin manage to get Foster out of his jacket and are working on his pants, but it’s slow going (foreplay was a more involved process back when criminals wore suspenders and a belt, not to mention the gentleman’s hosiery garters). Suddenly, Alfred finds a gun on the floor, closes his eyes, and starts randomly shooting. Since his boss is directly in the line of fire, this may constitute history’s first example of a disgruntled employee.

After Alfred clears the room, the heroes go through Foster’s jacket and find a map showing the exact time and place where the bad guys plan to blow up a troop train. Now, this document would no doubt baffle the average citizen, but the World’s Greatest Detective is able to deduce from it that Daka’s men are planning to blow up a troop train at a particular time and place. Take that, Superman!

Cut to a trestle, where Foster is setting the bomb. The Batman sneaks up behind him and tries to get frisky with the terrorist, but he’s distracted by the constant need to fling his cape back over his shoulder. By this point, I suspect it’s not a design flaw, but an affectation, like Ann Coulter’s habit of flipping her mane back whenever she’s fumbling for a misogynistic ad hominem. When The Batman isn’t busy fussing with his wardrobe, however, he and The Robin manage to smack around a couple of the day players, while a rear projection of some hobbyist’s Lionel train set bears down on them. The thugs scatter, and The Batman frantically tries to disarm the bomb, but he can’t figure out if he should cut the red or the blue wire, because they’re both in black and white. Just then, a fleeing crook flings a wrench and coldcocks the Caped Crusader, who collapses onto the tracks, right in the path of an approaching HO scale locomotive! As suspense goes, it’s not exactly the climax of Stand By Me, but at least they didn’t end the episode with him falling off the trestle. I mean, too much of a good thing…

How will The Batman escape being crushed beneath the wheels of a grainy 16mm loop of a model train set? Join us next Sunday for Chapter Four: Slaves of The Rising Sun!

Townhall: The Pride of the Right Wing

Posted by s.z. on January 17th, 2008

Sorry it took me so long, but I did read the winners in last week’s “Pick Your Townhall Columnists” contest, and I lived to tell the tale.  So, here’s the tale: 

1.   Townhall.com::ENG 317: “How Not To Be Gay”::By Mike S. Adams  

Summary:  A college course about gay culture is obviously stupid and perverse.  However, a college course where the students are required to write “Dear Penthouse Forum” types confessions for titillation of their professor are what make America great.

Set-up:  Out of all the universities in this country, and out of all of the hundreds of thousands of courses they offer, Dr. Mike happens to wander into one called “How to Be Gay.”  This is clear proof that, um, higher education is all crap.

Selected Text:

I’ve been studying higher education for a long time, but I’ve never seen anything quite as queer as a new course being taught at the University of Michigan. Section Two of English 317 is titled “How to be Gay: Male Homosexuality and Initiation.

[. . .]

To his credit, Halperin hopes to approach gay identity from the angle of “social practices and cultural identifications” rather than merely from the perspective of gay sexuality. He wants to explain what such an approach can tell people about the “sentimental, affective, or subjective dimensions of gay identity,” which include gay sexuality, without an exclusive focus on gay sexuality. Is this making sense yet? Good.

Halperin’s description of ENG 317 “How to be Gay” has introduced me to some new terms like “disidentification.”

See, ol’ Dr. Mike, Ph.D.  is just a humble country Criminology Professor, and ain’t used to all that fancy academic lingo that those fancy Michigan professors use. Now, what was Dr. Mike’s area of expertise again?

Oh, right!  As Trenchcoat reported (thanks, Trenchcoat!), Dr, Mike’s dissertation was on “Labeling and differential association: Towards a general social learning perspective of crime and deviance.”

Abstract (Summary)
The present study contends that two theories, labeling and differential association, should be incorporated into a general social learning perspective of crime and deviance. The proposed integration is justified by the theoretical assumptions of the two theories. Models were developed based upon close scrutiny of previous integrative efforts as well as separate tests of the component theories. Data from waves one and two of the National Youth Survey (n = 1725) were used to test the proposed models. The results indicate that the effects of labeling are mediated by delinquent peers bonds when looking at general, minor, and serious delinquency. When looking at general delinquency among males, females, and whites the same pattern is observed. However, among nonwhites, labeling effects are not mediated by associations with delinquent peers. Policy implications and directions for future research are discussed.

Is this making sense to you yet?  Good.  Oh, and Dr. Mike’s thesis has introduced me to some new terms, like “acadmic crapspeak.”

Halperin suggests that students wishing to prepare for ENG 317 “How to be Gay” should enroll in an introductory course in lesbian/gay studies. But I think they should just catch up on their shopping, trim their Shih Tzu, and rent “Brokeback Mountain.” It’s not like Michigan is a serious university.

Decoded Subtext:  “Universities should not be allowed to teach any courses that I don’t approve of.  Also, that neighbor who lets his Shih Tzu poop on my lawn every day is GAY!”

2.  Townhall.com::The Media’s Double-Standard On Civility::By Brent Bozell III

Summary: Remember that guy who was killed by the tiger that he and his friends had been taunting?  Well, that incident PROVES that there is a huge bias against conservatives in this country. 

Set-Up:  Some Radio America host said “Call me wacky, but hurray for the tiger that killed the kid who was taunting him.”  Then, when criticized by such defenders of free speech as NewsBusters, the Radio America guy said he was only joking.  And since that card is the exclusive property of Rush Limbaugh and Ann Coulter, then the media must be prejudiced against conservatives. Selected Text:

At what point, exactly, did we come to hate humans for having the arrogance to assume they are wiser than beasts?

At what point, exactly, did anybody come to consider taunting a 500-pound tiger to be a wise thing to do?

Why aren’t the media elites scandalized by hateful statements like these?

Obviously because they too are part of the Tiger Liberation Front, having fallen under the spell of its charismatic leader “Tony” (and his popular catch phrase “Drunken Teenagers are GRRRREAT!”)

When liberals get called on the carpet for saying crazy things, they are always only joking. When conservatives are joking, the media see their humor as scandalous, even dangerous.

Yeah, when Ann Coulter jokes about putting rat poison in the food of a judge, or Rush Limbaugh joshes about how being tortured and sexually abused at Abu Ghraib is not even as serious as undergoing a fraternity initiation, the media gets all huffy – which shows that they have no sense of humor, because that stuff is HILARIOUS!

But let’s look at a specific item mentioned by Brent as evidence of media bias:

When Limbaugh laughs about “feminazis,” liberals are apoplectic in their fury. When the Air America types angrily label President Bush a Nazi, they’re nowhere to be found.

Brent gets paid a 3-figure salary to analyze media, and he can’t even come up with examples from this century???   And this is his example of disparity: conservative icon Rush LImbaugh’s ongoing shtick v.s. one comment by “Air America types”??? 

You know, if I were a donor to the Media Research Center, I’d be asking for a refund about now.

Liberals in the Old Media who constantly decry talk radio as a haven for right-wing haters ought to have the honesty and integrity to cover both sides of the street before they present themselves as the nation’s guardians of public civility and decorum.

Yes, they should be honest, fair, and balanced, like Brent.  

Hey, just joking!

3.  As punishment for taking so long to get this report to you, here’s an abstract of Dr. Mike’s latest column:

Townhall.com::Feminist Causes Outbreak of Genital Irritation::By Mike S. Adams 

Summary: Once again, the feminists are driving Dr. Mike crazy with all their talk about vaginas.

Set-Up: Some student sent out an email announcing auditions for this year’s production of “The Vagina Monologues.”  She began her message “Greetings Vagina Lovers.”  Dr. Mike thought he could get a column out of this if he could ridicule not just feminists, but also gays, the transgendered, and the attractive women who won’t go out with him.

Anyway, here are the “protected groups” that Dr. Mike says are being discriminated against by being addressed as “Vagina Lovers.”

1. Homosexual men. Obviously, gay men are part of a protected class. And, obviously, if a man is inclined to have sex with other men, he is not a “vagina lover.” He is a (offensive term deleted) lover.

I think we can read between the lines here: such a man is a “gun lover.”

2. Good-Looking and Promiscuous Heterosexual Women. These women are clearly part of a protected class. I know this because the WRC is always giving these women condoms   [Skip tired reference about how feminists are always putting condoms on cucumbers in the presence of innocent children.]

Obviously, women who are attractive and easy are less inclined to go home alone and engage in self-stimulation. In other words, there is no real evidence that they are, in fact, vagina lovers. And, clearly, by failing to address these women properly, the university is engaging in look-ism. And since sleeping around is just another type of orientation to sex, the university is discriminating on the basis of sexual orientation.

This problem should be remedied with a special email from the WRC to all attractive and easy women on campus. It should begin with a more inclusive greeting such as: “Greetings (offensive term deleted) Lovers.”

Or, “Greetings, Slut!” 

And again, I think we can read between the lines: the 19-year-old coed whom Dr. Mike tried to “adopt” repaid him for his kindness by reporting him to the university administrators.

3. Women Contemplating Sex Changes. There can be little doubt that these soon-to-be-ex-women are part of a protected class in our society (Just look at all the bathroom doors on college campuses that are adorned with question marks).

Ha ha.  What a card that Dr. Mike is!  No wonder all of his fans at Townhall tactfully changed the discussion of this column to one about firearms.

4.  Free Market Bonus:  Buy Two Dr. Mikes, Get a Free John Stossel!

 Townhall.com::Hating Free Enterprise::By John Stossel

Summary:  Having already dealt with the pressing problem of cousins who arent allowed to marry, Stossel is now free to address the issue of poor people who are being prohibited from selling their kidneys.

Set-Up:  Seriously, Stossel is now stealing material from Thomas “Kidneys For Sale” Sowell.

Selected Text: 

Why are so many people so hostile to free markets?

Translation: Why do so many people object when the rich try to exploit everyone else?

This was clear reading The Wall Street Journal not long ago.

Because if ever there was a publication that is overtly hostile to free markets, it is clearly The Wall Street Journal.

That same day’s Journal also included a story on the “radical” idea of kidney selling.

Why is selling an organ “radical”? Banning the sale of kidneys kills thousands of people a year. That should be considered “radical.”

Yes,  banning something that might possibly save thousands of wealthy people, just to try to protect tens of thousands of poor people, should be considered “radical” (and not in a good way).   The Invisible Hand must be turning over in his grave!

Yet plenty of Americans would give up a kidney if they could just be paid for their trouble and risk. Ruth Sparrow of St. Petersburg, Fla., ran a newspaper ad saying: “Kidney, runs good, $30,000 or best offer.” She told “20/20″ that she got a couple of serious calls, but then the newspaper refused to run her ad again, warning her that she might be arrested.

Why isn’t someone with two healthy organs allowed to put one on the market? Because in 1984, U.S. Rep. Al Gore sponsored a law making the sale of organs punishable by five years in jail. Congress couldn’t contain its enthusiasm; the bill passed 396 to 6.

Damn that Al Gore!  First, he was against Global Warming, now it’s organ sales!  What is he anyway, some kind of Commie?

So giving someone a kidney is a good deed, but selling the same kidney is a felony.

So, giving up your child for adoption is a good deed, but selling the same kid is a felony???  Where is the fairness, people?

When I confronted Dr. Brian Pereira of the National Kidney Foundation about that, he said, “The current system functions extremely well.” I asked him how the system could be working “extremely well” when 17 people die every day because they can’t get kidneys. He said that the “desperate (situation) doesn’t justify an unwise policy decision.”

The Kidney Foundation fears that poor people would be “exploited.” But what gives the foundation the right to decide for poor people? The poor are as capable as others of deciding what trade-offs to make in life. No one forces them to give up an organ. To say the poor are too desperate to resist a dangerous temptation is patronizing.

Okay, I just can’t stomach any more Stossel today — I’m off to taunt a tiger.

Coulter Defends Romney Till He’s Black and Blue

Posted by scott on January 17th, 2008

Ann Coulter grouses that the Mud People were planning to throw their poll tax money away by quixotically voting in the Michigan Republican primary.

Unluckily for McCain, snowstorms in Michigan suppressed the turnout among Democratic “Independents” who planned to screw up the Republican primary by voting for our worst candidate. Democrats are notoriously unreliable voters in bad weather. Instead of putting on galoshes and going to the polls, they sit on their porches waiting for FEMA to rescue them.

So by “Democrats,” you mean, “the Sons of Ham.” Gotcha. Doesn’t exactly require a Captain Midnight Decoder Ring to figure out what Ann’s saying here, and it’s not “drink more Ovaltine.”

In contrast to Michigan’s foul weather, New Hampshire was balmy on primary day, allowing McCain’s base — Democrats — to come out and vote for him.

Providing an amazing margin for victory, considering New Hampshire’s population is 1.1% black (it used to be more, but then it rained and they all melted).

I’ve been casually taking swipes at Mitt Romney for the past year based on the assumption that, in the end, Republicans would choose him as our nominee. My thinking was that Romney would be our nominee because he is manifestly the best candidate.

Thus limiting myself to only casual, instinctive swipes, nothing too savage, nothing likely to pierce the flesh and draw a bead of blood to the surface of his alabaster throat where it would pool and catch the light like a single perfect ruby…

I had no idea that Republican voters in Iowa and New Hampshire planned to do absolutely zero research on the candidates and vote on the basis of random impulses.

Ann? Honey? That’s like on page one of the RNC playbook. You’ve got to start coming to meetings again.

Dear Republicans: Please do one-tenth as much research before casting a vote in a presidential election as you do before buying a new car.

Since consumer research shows that most people who bought a car in 2004 and also voted for George W. Bush in the presidential election wound up purchasing a Trabant.

Turn on any cable news show right now, and you will see Democratic pundits attacking Romney, calling him a “flip-flopper,” and heaping praise on McCain and Huckleberry — almost as if they were reading some sort of “talking points.”

Doesn’t that raise the tiniest suspicions in any of you? Are you too busy boning up on Consumer Reports’ reviews of microwave ovens to spend one day thinking about who should be the next leader of the free world?

What is Ann’s gripe with people researching a product before they buy it? If she’s aiming to take over John Stossel’s act, she’s going to have to grow a slightly better mustache.

Are you familiar with our “no exchange/no return” policy on presidential candidates?

Sadly, yes.

Voting for McCain because he was a POW a quarter-century ago or Huckabee because he was a Baptist preacher is like buying a new car because you like the color.

And people say Ann lacks the authorial skills to develop a metaphor, kill it with a heavy blow to the head and then slowly and laboriously flay it with a carpet beater. But personally, I think it’s much more like listening to a female pundit’s opinions solely because you think she’s vaguely hot and probably talks dirty in bed, and you enjoyed her 1978 disco smash, “Hot Child in the City.”

The candidate Republicans should be clamoring for is the one liberals are feverishly denouncing. That is Mitt Romney by a landslide.

Right. Ann, you do realize that the plan to screw with the Michigan primary involved Democrats voting for Romney? Right? To keep him from dropping out of the race? I mean, even Michelle Malkin figured that out.

Liberals claim to be enraged at Romney for being a “flip-flopper.” I’ve looked and looked, and the only issue I can find that Romney has “flipped” on is abortion.

Next time, Try Google! Now with Extra Stuff You Want to Pretend Doesn’t Exist!

When running for office in Massachusetts — or, for short, “the Soviet Union” –

Is it just me, or do you ever get the impression Ann writes her jokes by just flinging a handful of those random word magnets at the refrigerator?

Even when Romney was claiming to support Roe v. Wade, he won the endorsement of Massachusetts Citizens for Life — a group I trust more than the editorial board of The New York Times.

Me too. They’re anti-abortions nuts who oppose stem cell research and sex education, but at least they had more sense than to hire Bill Kristol.

And, of course, Romney is a Mormon. Even a loser Mormon like Sen. Harry Reid claims to be pro-life. So having a candidate with a wacky religion isn’t all bad.

I was conducting a scientific study on methods for determining whether Ann Coulter was attacking you or defending you, but I got distracted by this UL Product Safety Audit of “memory foam” mattress toppers.

She Makes Everything Sound So DIRTY…!

Posted by scott on January 16th, 2008

This piece is either from Michelle Malkin’s latest Townhall column, or the 14th Annual Bad Sex in Fiction Awards (queasy, ambivalent h/t to Elizabeth).

I need a man.

You have seemed crankier than usual lately…

A man who can say “No.”

You like it when he plays hard to get, doesn’t call, makes you beg for it? Right, right I hear ya…

A man who rejects Big Nanny…

So no diaper play. I’ll call David Vitter and give him the bad news…

A man who thinks being president doesn’t mean playing Santa Claus.

Because the holidays are over and it’s really time to retire that fantasy for awhile and get back to The Woodcutter and the Milk Maid, or the Border Patrol Agent and the Strip Searched Immigrant.

A man who won’t panic in the face of economic pain.

And if he taunts a homeless man with a silver dollar and then laughingly chucks it into a spittoon — all the better!

A man who won’t succumb to media-driven sob stories.

And if a child who survived a traumatic head injury testifies on behalf of federal health insurance, and you don’t fling a quarter at his skull just to see if you can bounce it off the soft spot, then you’ve just lost yourself a vote, pal.

A man who can look voters, the media and the Chicken Littles in Congress in the eye and say the three words no one wants to hear in Washington: Suck. It. Up.

Because the three word response is inevitably, “two hundred dollars.” Unless you won’t spring for the full Jeff Gannon, and try to cadge a Larry Craig-style freebie instead.

Which leading GOP candidate represents fiscal accountability and limited government?

This is a trick question, right?

Message to Washington: Stop treating every defaulting borrower like Mother Teresa.

“Roger. Washington to defaulting borrowers: Stop feeding the lepers! Over.”

At last week’s Fox News debate in New Hampshire, the He Men of the GOP field went all mealy-mouthed when asked about the signs of recession. Mitt Romney asserted our need to “stop the housing crisis.” Does he mean the government should insulate borrowers and lenders from culpability?

That’s only for political appointees and Bush Pioneers!

As for “Straight Talk” Sen. John McCain, he immediately pitched federal education and job training programs for laid-off workers. “We need to go to the community colleges and design education and training programs so that these workers get a second chance. That’s our obligation as a nation.” It is? This is conservative?

Are there no prisons? Are there no workhouses? And what about that Soylent Green idea — borrowers could refinance their homes using their children’s caloric potential as collateral — now that‘s conservative!

As we head toward Super Tuesday, the subprime mess and the economy will dominate — and the Do Something Democrat candidates will turn their spigot of overextended homeowner sob stories on full blast.

Where are the Do Nothing Republicans whose rock-like insensitivity will give Michelle the schadenfreudegasm she so desperately needs?

Come on, fellas, time to step up. All you have to do is act like a sociopath and I’m telling you — she’s a sure thing.

Farewell Marq

Posted by scott on January 16th, 2008

Thanks to a kindly correspondent, I’ve just learned that Mark H. Smith, known to Wo’C readers as the irrepressible commenter “marq,” passed away on Christmas Day.

Mark occasionally alluded to his chronic health problems, but always in a blithe and fatalistic manner, and his unfailing humor and enthusiasm made it difficult to think of him as ill. He never failed to goose a thread with some outrageous comment, but the astringency and irreverence was always leavened with a profound empathy. I think I can speak for most of us who knew him, if only through his contributions here, when I say that his sunny wit, well-timed sensitivity, and general devil-may-care ballsiness will be sorely missed.

Farewell, Mark.

Bill’s Corner

Posted by s.z. on January 15th, 2008

My head hurts, so I thought I’d turn the podium over to Bill O’Reilly.  So, here are a few words from Bill about how Fox News is under assault.


 BillOReilly.com: Journalism as a Contact Sport

There is a chance that before this presidential election year is over, somebody is going to get hurt. Knowing that partisan hostility is boiling over in America, the Secret Service is tense because the candidates are exposed when they campaign in public. Hatred is definitely in the air, and the media is partially to blame

You want to be your own country? Go right ahead. And if Al Qaeda comes in here and blows you up, we’re not going to do anything about it.

The enormous success of the Fox News Channel has created a bitterness unprecedented in the American press. … So it comes as no surprise that Fox News, which gives equal time to conservative thought, is despised by many in the liberal press. Not surprisingly, that hostility has now carried over into the political arena.

I just wish Katrina had only hit the United Nations building, nothing else, just had flooded them out, and I wouldn’t have rescued them.

The reason the Democratic candidates boycotted Fox News was that the far-left Internet crazies told them to do it. Websites like the Daily Kos and Media Matters, which spit out anti-conservative hatred everyday, made it clear to the Democrats that anyone dealing with Fox would be punished.

If you cross Fox News Channel, it’s not just me, it’s Roger Ailes who will go after you. I’m the street guy out front making loud noises about the issues, but Ailes operates behind the scenes, strategizes and makes things happen so that one day BAM! The person gets what’s coming to them but never sees it coming.

Anyway, I saw the anti-Fox hatred firsthand when I traveled to New Hampshire last week.

I’ll tell you what. I’ve been in combat. I’ve seen it, I’ve been close to it.

Fox News vehicles have been vandalized, FNC correspondents cursed, and all Fox News personnel are cautious.

Now it’s so bad that I spend an enormous amount of money protecting myself against evil.

And then I would take the other hand with the falafel thing and I’d just put it on your p***y . . . 


 Okay, I think that’s enough from Bill.  Good night, everybody!

It’s Dr. Mike & Sideshow Brent Bozell!

Posted by s.z. on January 14th, 2008

Yes, they are the winners in our Your Crappy Choices of the Townhall Columnists thingee.  And I may read and comment on Matt “I’ve Dedicated My Life to Homosexuality But I”M NOT GAY!” Barber and one of the Concerned Women, just because this might be the week that they snap. Sorry I didn’t get back here sooner, but Friday a cat attacked me.  (I swear, all I was doing was petting it — and it didn’t give any warning signs before it grabbed my hand and bit me twice really hard, so I think it had received Navy SEAL training.)  And by the time I finished up with the Petsmart Adoption event on Saturday, my hand was all red and swollen.  And after I waited the three hours at Insta-Care (they named it that ironically, I’m sure) and the doctor could see me, I had infection going up my arm almost to my elbow, and my hand really hurt and stuff.  So, I had to have shots and take pills that reduced my bowels to liquid, and even so, the infection made it almost to my shoulder Saturday night.  And so I had to go back to Insta-Care yesterday to see if I had to go to the hospital for IV antibiotics — but by then, the oral antibiotics had driven the infection back down to mid-forearm level, so I didn’t. 

And the bottom line is: I did all this, just to avoid having to read the Townhall columnists.  But it didn’t work, I guess, because they’re still there.  And my hand is just kinda swollen and tender now, and the infection has receded, so I’m off to read me some Dr. Mike and some Brent the Wonder Bozell.  See you later.  Unless I can get the dogs to rip out my throat or something.

P. S.  My feline attacker, an angelic-looking longhaired orange-and-white tom named George, just left for his new life on a farm where nobody will ever pet him, if they know what’s good for them.  That means my animal fosters are now limited to: the four feline residents of the Island of Misfit Kittens (but Tribble finally got his cast off, so he may be freed soon); the feral kitten that the bio-tech company trapped on their premises (he is actually rather sweet, but probably bioengineered to turn into a truck or something); Mean Mother and her 7 adorable kittens (you can help me think of names for them all — right now I’m leaning towards “Maggie Gallagher” for the mom); and Angelo, the neurotic Chihuahua.  They all say hi. 

Sunday Cinema, Now With Extra Guano!

Posted by scott on January 13th, 2008

Click here for Chapter 1.

The news that “men’s tears” is the newly discovered solvent that will melt pro-choice sentiment in this country certainly prompted a slew of fascinating, moving, and insightful comments. Also a few which suggest that Billy Goats are now free to cross bridges at will, since the fearsome, folkloric creatures who traditionally guard the spans are clearly web surfing on company time. And while we’re always happy to facilitate the national dialogue here at Wo’C, we’re concerned that an emphasis on womens issues is making the site way too girly, and we’re in danger of losing half our readership unless we provide a bit more of the two-fisted, masculine prose for which we’re famous. So, in the spirit of such rugged Internet he-men and Hemingway manqués as Dr. Professor Mike Adams and Doug Giles, enjoy the latest episode in our ongoing story about a confirmed bachelor, his frequently pantsless boy companion, and their fey manservant. I’m sure it’ll provide just the refreshing change of pace we’ve all been craving:

The Batman (1943). Episode 2: THE BAT’S CAVE…OF THE BATMAN!

Well, if you thought last week’s episode was action-packed (and if you did, I’d really like to know why. No. Really. Explain yourself.), then prepare to court cardiac infarction with this installment!

To begin with, big doings this week for our supervillain, Dr. Daka. Despite failing to recruit Linda’s Uncle Martin for his “Legion of Dishonored Men” (one of the earliest boy bands), failing to steal the radium from the Gotham City Foundation (a 501c non-profit which apparently runs some sort of Home for Wayward Isotopes), and finally, allowing The Batman to steal his atomic-powered Kenner Give-A-Show Projector, the good doctor has somehow snagged a promotion, and is now “Prince Daka.” I’m guessing he knows somebody in the home office.

Still, at least Daka’s army of zombified Mr. Mooneys managed to push Batman off the roof. Or did they? When the climax of last week’s episode is reprised at the beginning of Part 2, it becomes apparent that Batman took a dive. Watch carefully during the fight, and you’ll see the Caped Crusader helpfully scoot his butt back onto the parapet and spread his legs, as though a zombie gynecologist had just asked him to “hop up and get into the stirrups.” Then he and the middle-aged zombie resume their furious tussling; nobody gets hurt, but by the end of it, Batman’s cowl is askew and his seams are crooked.

Anyway, when last seen, Batman was plunging to his death while waiting for the results of his Pap smear to come back. But his trip is miraculously interrupted by a window washer, who saves the Dark Knight’s life, and then goes on to succeed in business without really trying. When Batman crawls back onto the roof (which now sports hooks and ropes for the previously invisible window-washing rig below), he sees that Robin has captured the Radium Gun and one of Daka’s thugs, thus establishing their Esther Blodgett/Norman Maine relationship right up front.

They take the traitorous henchman to “the Bat’s Cave,” and make him sit in the guest chair across from The Batman’s desk, while the Caped Crusader asks him a lot of those uncomfortable interview questions like, “What has been your most rewarding accomplishment?” “What do you consider to be your greatest weakness?” and “Why were you stealing radioactive material from the United Way?”

The mook is terrified by the crepe paper bat that’s gotten tangled in the ceiling fan, and squeals that his confederates are gathering at The House of the Open Door, an establishment very similar to The House of the Rising Sun, except instead of offering tantalizing Creole courtesans, it contains hoboes.

The Dynamic Duo go upstairs and enter Wayne Manor by crawling out of a grandfather clock. Alfred is reading a scary detective story aloud, driving himself into a chirping tizzy, and breaking all previous land-twee records. Bruce attempts to calm his fey factotum’s nerves by using the Radium Gun to shatter a vase inches from Alfred’s head, showering the elderly butler with porcelain shrapnel. (This is actually the fifth Alfred he’s had, having disposed of his previous domestics via a succession of heart attacks, strokes, and aneurysms.)

Cut to Daka’s hideout, where the Prince is in the midst of taking a hit off his giant Buddha bong. After grabbing a handful of Pringles and some Screaming Yellow Zonkers, he resumes his meeting with the Legion of Dishonored Men and Sunriser Rotary Club. So far they’re up to items 5 and 6 on the Agenda: using the Radium Gun to destroy a troop train on Saturday, and on Sunday hosting a car wash and barbecue to sponsor new uniforms for the high school marching band.

Meanwhile, we learn that Daka and his chief thug, Foster, have made very little headway against The Batman because they’re both devoting most of their time to competing in the World’s Skinniest Mustache Pageant (but on the bright side, Foster did receive high marks from the judges in the Philtrum-Exposing event). Flush with victory, the thug calls Linda Page and pretends to be her Uncle Martin. Linda immediately believes that this total stranger is a close relation because he put his handkerchief over the receiver, suggesting that the reason her hair is higher than that guy’s from House Party isn’t because she’s got a huge brain under there.

Anyway, Linda agrees to meet the faux Uncle Martin at a nightclub. She reveals her plans to Bruce, but won’t allow him to accompany her, since Uncle Martin insisted that she confide in no one, and to come alone, which makes sense, since those are the conditions my relatives always impose when they invite me to Thanksgiving dinner.

But Bruce is stalking Linda, and he drags his boytoy to the nightclub, where they get a table in back and sulk behind their menus. Linda is called to the phone, and Dick tails her to the lobby, where she enters a roomy, brightly-lit phone booth with a large glass door. He heads back to the table, and instantly the booth fills with gas and Linda passes out. The back wall open and two thugs emerge, grab Linda, and vanish. This seems like a pretty daring crime to pull off in plain sight, but apparently it takes more than a gassing and an abduction to impress the hat-check girl in this joint.

When Bruce sees Dick, he snaps, “Why did you leave her? I didn’t want you to lose sight of her for a second!” Dick returns to the lobby, spies the empty phone booth, and scuttles back to the table, his cringing expression seeming to say, “Oh I am so FIRED over this…!”

Meanwhile, at The House of the Open Door (try the lingonberry pancakes!), Daka’s staff are questioning Linda. Suddenly, Batman and Robin burst into the room and start throwing punches, and Batman instantly gets tangled up in his cape again. I mean mummy-tangled. Strait-jacketed. Swaddled like a Russian infant. Fortunately, one of the thugs tears the cape clean off, revealing that with just the cowl on, Batman bears a startling resemblance to Marmaduke. Frantically, Batman grabs the loose cape and tries to fling it away, but only succeeds in tossing it over his own face. Seriously. I’m guessing that by 1943 all the good stuntmen were in the Service, so the producers were reduced to stuffing some poor schlub with a nervous disorder into the costume, and trying to pass off an attack of St. Vitus Dance as an action sequence.

While roughhousing, Batman knocks some “acid bottles” off a shelf, and the room fills up with smoke. The thugs flee into the hallway, while the Dynamic Duo retreats to the ledge. Batman throws the unconscious Linda over his shoulder and starts tightrope-walking along a cable. Up on the roof, Foster yanks down a live wire and — without benefit of rubber gloves, mind you – twirls it around like Will Roger’s lasso until he manages to touch the cable, which instantly starts to burn like a fuse. Why? Well, back in the Forties, before superconductors, electricity traveled a lot slower. Often you had to tip your radio on its side and hold the power cord over your head like an I.V. bag just to get enough electricity to drip down into the Philco so you could listen to The Great Gildersleeve or It’s a Crime, Mr. Collins!

We now leave you with the goofiest cliffhanger in serial history: Just as the hot end of the fuse is about to reach our hero’s Bat Achilles Tendon, he glances down and we see his P.O.V. of Robin, who’s 40 feet below, making the “Jump! I’ll catch you!” gesture. Fade to black. No preview of next week’s episode, which I, for one, find encouraging.

So what have we gleaned from this week’s thrilling episode? Well, we’ve learned that Dr. Daka is a vainglorious, peevish incompetent who prefers the company of yes-men, war criminals, and zombies, and who manages to extravagantly fail at every single thing he attempts. Yet, strangely, he is never held to account, and his blunders are actually rewarded with a promotion to the ruling class. Hmmm. Nope, don’t see anything here that’s really germane to the present, so let’s move on.

I guess the lesson is: if you’re going to pick a fight with every guy you see sporting a pencil mustache, don’t wear a cape. And be sure to engage the services of a willowy, bare-legged boy with Kramer hair to capture the thugs and retrieve the atomic death rays while you’re busy spilling acid and falling off buildings. In fact, if President Bush had followed Batman’s example and selected a slim-hipped, downy-cheeked youth for his running mate (a Dick Grayson, as it were, instead of a Dick Cheney) we’d be spending fewer tax dollars on pacemaker batteries at Bethesda, and we could have skipped that whole invasion of Iraq and just confiscated Saddam’s fissile materials from the receptionist at Goodwill Industries.

Townhall Choice

Posted by s.z. on January 9th, 2008

Well, you can’t chose NOT to have any Townhall, but there appears to be an abundance of wingnut riches over there today and I don’t feel like reading any more of it than I have to. So, let’s pretend this is a democracy, and you can VOTE for the column that you want me to read and report on.   Hey, vote for two — they’re small.  At least, that’s what their girlfriends say!  (Zing!)

Here are your options, along with a few liner notes: ==================

1.   The Clintons in Crisis By Michelle Malkin

Okay, Michelle is no Dick Morris, but she’s probably sucked a toe or two in her time.  So, she must might have some inside info on the Clintons, as well as some sharp comments for the Spears sisters

.2.  Matt Barber : Who’s the Worst Person in the World? 

Is it Matt “Boom Boom” Barber, the guy whose only claim to fame is getting fired by Allstate Insurance for defaming gays?  No, he’s too obscure for that. So, does anybody care what he thinks?  Vote for him if you do! 

3.  Janice Shaw Crouse : Never Underestimate the Power of Tears

In this column, does Janice ”Mad at My Mop” tell those post-abortive men to stop their sobbing and help some orphans in India or something?  We’ll have to read it to find out — but only if Janice is one of our finalists. 

4.  Janet M. LaRue : Are Connecticut Justices, Hartford Courant Courting Same-Sex Marriage?

Well, ARE they?  Jan, the Concerned Women of America’s expert on porn, will certainly know the inner workings of the CT judicial system, as well as the secret intents of the judges’ hearts.

5.  Austin Bay : Speedboat Bluff in the Persian Gulf

This sounds like the title of a Hardy Boys knock-off  to me, but I’ve been assured that Austin Bay claims to be a real person

6.  Paul Greenberg : Happy Endings All Around

Or, what happened after the GOP delegates came to the big city and got massages. 

7.  Paul Greenberg : What’s Old? A Visit With Pierre Cliche

We can’t remember who this Paul Greenberg is, but he does seem to be trying to edge out Dr. Mike in the “how many times a week can I get Townhall to pay me for a column” department, and you have to respect that. 

8.  Mike S. Adams : ENG 317: “How Not To Be Gay” 

You KNOW we have to do this one – unless you’re all getting sick of Dr. Mike, that is.  (And it’s not like he doesn’t try to alienate everyone around him, so he’s probably be proud and happy if we all ignore him.)  

9.  John Stossel : Live and Let Live, Says One Candidate

But Stossel says that such an attitude isn’t what the invisible hand that governs the supply and demand of politicians would want, so this candidate should be forced to drink tap water and abolish the FDC.  Or something Libertarian-esque like that.  Frankly, we don’t think there’s anything that Stossel says that interests us anymore, but we could be wrong, I guess.

10.  Kathleen Parker : That Obama Feeling

11.  Terence Jeffrey : Obama is the Most Pro-Abortion Candidate Ever

We’re gussing that “That Obama Feeling” is the one you have as you conduct a post-birth abortion. 

12.  Jonah Goldberg : Voting in the Age of ‘Dr. Phil’

With this one, I’m sure we’re in for many witty observations on pop culture and liberals who “feel” about voting instead of thinking,  I can hardly wait.  Yeah. 

13.  Maggie Gallagher : The Left’s Ronald Reagan?

Is he a dream?  (Ahhh!) Or a dud? (Ewww!)  Open the door to YOUR mystery candidate!

14.  Brent Bozell III : The Media’s Double-Standard On Civility

“Media Mom!  You let Keith Olbermann be all uncivil and stuff, but when Rush Limbaugh innocently makes a non-PC joke, like that he hopes that all black kids die of AIDS, then you ground him.  And it’s just not fair!”


There are more (so many more!), but that’s enough to pick from for today.  Choose two, and we’ll read them.  We can’t be any fairer than that.  Not without some bribe money, that is.

The Wo’C FAQ For Trolls

Posted by s.z. on January 9th, 2008

1.  Yes, we are liberals and yet we write sarcastic, unkind things (about stuff that we think deserve a little snark).  But you thought that liberals were supposed to be nice and to hold hands and teach the world to sing in perfect harmony, and so this has caused you to rethink everything that you once thought to be true?  Well, sorry to burst your pretty balloon, but as Steve Martin once said after seeing Ann Coulter at a RNC fundraiser, “Comedy is not pretty.” 

2.  You can’t shame us by telling us that we aren’t helping the cause.  We didn’t sign up for the cause.  The cause isn’t our raison d’etre.  We’re not even sure which cause you are referring to.  See, OUR cause is to poke gentle fun at stupid stuff.  If this disappoints, maybe you have us confused with with some other World O’Crap?

3.  We think it’s great that men have feelings (well, feelings other than contempt for women and foreigners, and love for their gun collection).  And we think they probably should feel something when their partner has an abortion — we’re not going to tell them how to feel, but we think this is a significant enough event to warrant some emotion.  However, we don’t think that the use of ”post-abortive men” as a political movement to counter legal abortion is a good thing.  You are free to disagree with us, but please try to do so in an honest manner.  Or, at least be entertaining — no posting of pro-life boilerplate, okay?

 4.  If you say that your feelings have been grievously wounded by all the mean people here, and so you are going away, then you have to leave.  That’s the law.  Thank you.

 5.  We really like D. Sidhe.  We admire her courage, intelligence, and literary skills.  But we feel we should warn you that you had better put a little thought into your replies to her, as she is a pretty sharp cookie, and will have you for lunch if you enter a war of wits with her unarmed.  And several other metaphors.  Just FYI. 

6.  TBD.