Once Upon a Time in the West

ern portion of MoCo (actual name of town conveniently pre-deleted from this map, evidently in the interest of preserving real estate values),




there were two little boys. One was a dick. One wanted to be a dick, but he was way too ineffectual to be a dick, so he was mostly just a weenie. The boys played together:



and separately, albeit often together in a large group of similarly awkwardly attired persons:



Storyteller would now take this moment to thank Ba'al that back then, the awkwardly attired group didn't take that whole Trojan motif quite so seriously (this is the group's actual more-or-less current incarnation, and again Ba'al must be thanked that digital imagery did not survive that dark age). Let us also thank Ba'al that they went where they did, and not to this godless wasteland:


Yes, yes. It is quite amazing what a little non-librarina search work will do, innit?

Anyway, time passed:







No, no, c'mon. Lots of time.






I know, I know. Isn't unsafe image searching just the best thing evahr?

Anyway, the dick,



who was no longer a dick, and the weenie,




who had, more or less, passed through dickhood and regressed back to weeniedom, acquired some number of quite astonishingly faithful companions:




And some number of faithless twats who shall go unnamed and unimaged here. Except for this guy, who someone decided to randomly dredge up from repressed yuck not long ago.



More time passed, and things changed, but not so much for the former dick and his weenie sidekick. People got fat, people got thin. Avataristic icons turned to wankage, and back again (maybe).

But the former dick and his erstwhile weenie buddy kept on truckin' (no image inflicted).

Then, the former dick got really old.



The end.

By the way, his birthday's tomorrow. I'm just not going to have time to take care of this between now and then.

New Employment

Things are now official, and I can now report that Goth's worst fears are true: I am, in fact, the new Professor of Religion at his school, Repressed Jailbait High in Flynt, Oklahomianinois. What's especially exciting is that the girls in my 4th period The Somewhat Messy and Thoroughly Degrading Aspects of Satan Worship go straight from my class to to Goth's 5th period History, Dissection, and Frottage of Semiotics class. We expect them to learn real good.

Okay, okay, I got the aforementioned top-secret job. It puts me back in the people management business. Fear for them.

Vacay

Knowing how you love it when I offer you some bullshit excuse for being far too lazy to post, I offer you this not particularly amusing, not quite a story about what I'm up to.

So I wandered off from Save the World after they offered me a 26-percent pay cut to take a job that would've had me doing 33 percent more work (and a big goofy wave to occasional Save the World readers Molly and Slim, and former Save the World reader and consummate lifesaver Amelia). I been on vacation since, except for the parts where Save the World CFO Iosef Stalin keeps calling me to do little stuff (I did jack a few consulting days out of him for periodically exciting Databoy and Bam-Bam by ringing my phone).

I spent four days in Maine, communing with the moose, my father John the Daftist, and stepmum Lucretia Borgia. There was lobster, there was a boat ride, there were fiddles, there was a lot of veering around the Maine coast in John's Prius looking for food. I had fun, but by the end of the four days Ilse was smearing the walls with graffiti written in feces and blaming an imaginary talking poo. Okay, I'm lying. I had fun for about 24 hours. But the thing about Ilse? God's own truth.

I'm also looking for a job. It appears that good things are happening, but I can't discuss them yet, lest appearance become ether. Two more days. Two more days, and perhaps we'll have another amusingly named workplace. We'll see.

And now? It's 10 AM and Databoy and Bam-Bamm are still asleep. Why am I blogging?

Futbol blogging later. Ta.

Legislative Watch

President Bush today signed into law a provision prohibiting bridge collapses such as the one in Minneapolis last week. The law was passed as a rider to an amendment funding The Troops for next Thursday, August 9. "We just couldn't face the political consequences of hating the troops yet again," said Senator Christopher Dodd (D-Connectilieberman).

The President launched an impassioned defense of the provision in his remarks accompanying the signing. "America is under threat from these terrist river crossings," stammered the President. "This legislation gives the government the power it needs to bomb bridges that conspire to buckle and collapse as a means of carrying out their terrist agenda. They threaten everything we hold dear, including fetuses and nucular families. We will never cave in to their aggression, and will not allow them to hate us for the things that make us great."

The new law gives the President the power to wiretap bridges to determine whether they plan to collapse, to incarcerate rogue bridges for interrogation without criminal charges, and to invade Iowa. Leading Congressional figures were highly supportive. Senator Joseph Lieberman (Self-Mars) exulted, "The President's cock tastes very good. I think I'll have another helping of it." Vice-President Dick Cheney, asked for comment, looked a television reporter in the eye and said, "Go fuck yourself."

No bridges have collapsed since the President signed the legislation this afternoon; media analysts called this a clear showing that the President's policy was an unqualified success and suggested that the powers of the executive branch be further broadened. Respected pundit David Broder said that "peoples' use of language that I find unpleasant clearly militates in favor of giving the President unlimited power." Thomas Friedman of the New York Times was willing to waive his usual six-month waiting period; "The President's cock tastes very good. I think I'll have another helping of it," he wrote.

Terrorist news network Al Jazeera posted a video purportedly made by Osama bin Laden mocking the measure. "Even the bridges will cry jihad against your evil ways," said an unidentified narrator of the video, who could not be positively identified as bin Laden. Intelligence analysts were working to establish the validity of the report.

Presumptive President-Elect Fred Thompson was supportive. "The President's cock tastes very good. I think I'll have another helping of it," he rumbled before feeling up his pneumatic and bubbly wife for the cameras.

Fuck Your Calendar

The calendar is a pain in my assholes.

This, On The Other Hand?

This is handsomely uniform.

This has been another edition of What Happens When You Ask Me To Post.

Your Wish Is But My Command

What a silly uniform. Marilyn Monroe is so trite. Your face wasn't made for cats-eye glasses. You ought to have your moustache removed. A goatee looks silly on a girl. And what's with the Heiniken? Can't you drink American beer, you terrorist-loving Commie? I mean, the Dutch are serious cheese-eating hippie surrender monkeys.

This has been another edition of What Happens When You Ask Me To Post.