on the internets. We have discovered that sometimes people decide that they will argue something so unbelievably wrong and thickheaded that the only recourse would be to depress such Senor Wrongo’s horrible low self-image even further. Obviously there are memes, such as “paste-eater”, but these are shallow albeit affective. We prefer to just simply state for the record, and feel free to use this clip when backed into a corner by the munchwagon patrol:
We’re just not afraid to admit it, and keep admitting it. Also, attack all you want, we’re not gonna get mad, because we have a little something something called self-esteem.
Proudly presents “Misdirection.”
Smokeydog under dining room table honking on loofah dog. Pugsley appraises the situation. Pugsley runs to top of stairs.
Pugsley: “Arf!” (half-hearted, totally different than his usual warning bark, completely fake in everyway. Only way it could be more fake is if he played a little tape recorder of a bark)
Smokeydog: “ARF!” (jumps up, needing to investigate the disturbance)
Pugsley: runs, zoinks loofah dog, motors into the kitchen. loofah dog is his. Smokeydog is hosed again.
Another reason, some would say excuse, for the lack of proper candy cobagitation this holiday weekend was the fact that this little dude and his veritable swarm of suckular blood sucks decided to burrow into my leg and siphon off my life essence. Actually, they were probably on their way to the CEI for a meet and greet. That is the “Competitive Enterprise Institute” or “Chumpagon for Enemas, Infinite”.
Anyway, these creatures are marvels of evolutionary selection. They can live for two years without a blood meal, and why don’t you have fun thinking about one of these guys crawling through your hair right now. Oh woops, what’s that on your back? Hey, did they infest the car? Oh that’s not a dust bunny! Feel a little tickly on your neck? Who could that be? Hey, little guy, impossible-to-kill bacteria injector!
And last weeks shenanigans did not go down very well with the reviewers. We have used our magical powers to discern reactions:
The Editors: “Boring. Mind-decayingly so. Instead of ‘Shark Sandwich‘ it should have been called ‘Boring Sandwich.'”
Atrios (on the side of the angels, o’course):
(this clip was too gross, I am saving it- Ed.)(UPDATE- OK, here it is, it is an emu-mating call, but sounds liek something else.)
Gregor Samsa: “This has been one of the stupidest days on the internets ever.”
Most of the world: “Yawn.”
We are most upset about the P-Bell incident because the emotional snorkeling led to a big fat seawater smoothie, one which prevented a certain Take 5 Bar from being Pimped beyond all get out, and I think the ire of our readers for this fact should frighten Mr. Bell as he prepares to make it up to us by guesting (To Be Announced) at Song of the Day and Delicious or Disgusting (I’m still working on Celebrity Dream Cameo– I bet he has some AWESOME ones, but can he top Chuckles’s?).
Finally, Capt. Trollypants had this for basically the world in general. He had grown weary of the entire affair.
EMU ATTACK ON BORED RES PUBLICA!!!!!!!11!
Oh GOD, he’s down! Mortally wounded AND bored.
That’s all I got. I’m at my anonymous work, doing damage to my sanity. Busy busy.
Patrick, just missed your comment. You’re still being a chundermuffin. You are still outing me. Part of the humor here is that people don’t know what I look like. We have a running HNT joke that becomes less funny if people can see me. The only worse thing you could do would be to play a recording of my voice. Part of being in cyberspace is being able to create your own mental picture of people, by posting my picture you will destroy that. I have never met my co-bloggos here, and that is part of the fun, the mystery. You are taking a big stinky burrito dump on that. I find it uncool from someone with so much potential and mad skillz.
Also, as a life sciences student, I certainly wasn’t a child of privilege. I went to a state school, and then a Ph.D. program at the best University on the planet for that sort of thing. See, at that point it is somewhat about merit. Privilege is being paid to think and say stuff that isn’t true. I really can’t tell you how hard I’ve had to work to get where I am, and it is kind of offensive for you to suggest otherwise. I like to play nice because I don’t like it when people get personal, and if you have read anything here, you see that it is mostly teasing and it is much funnier than some cashewy nut log conservo humor sites. I mean we could actually hang out and tease each other and talk about emus and BBQ, which I am sure you love as do I. We like to take off the suits at the end of the day and have some laffs. If you think you are being nice by suggesting you are in a position of strength with all my details etc. you are not. You have bought an insurance policy (my info) for what? So we don’t call you a chundermuffin? Don’t BE a Chundermuffin, and you won’t get called one. Why don’t you write a guest post on smoked salmon and Rainier cherries for Delicious and Disgusting (separately, Delicious), (together, Push or Disgusting).
My job and my online activities are unrelated, except that I am online a lot at my work. My work involves extremely long hours of experimentation, so there is down time. For example I was at work for 16 hours yesetrday. However, since I have an actual profession and in my profession internet searches for people’s work and output are common, I use an online name. I would not claim that I am anonymous, I have an e-mail at which I can be reached and a webpage with open and free comments for any communication to take place.
My job is different that someone who blogs under their own name and whose entire existence is dedicated to espousing political beliefs based on their college activism and their work at a highly ideological “think tank.” In such an instance, there is no penalty for political speech, because that person’s entire life is dedicated to the uncritical acceptance of ideology. I can’t use the word “philosophy” here because it would not be appropriate.
I am fully prepared for this post to be rendered moot. This should not be taken that I would welcome such a mooting.
In fact, I will out myself right now.
My name is Octavius Hexagon Sloane-Smythies the 3rd, I have 7 Ph.D.s and I take shits with more integrity than certain Chunderhumps.
A word of warning: If this individual outs the boys, hell shall hath no fury than:
Boys, I won’t let any Charles Barkley kick you out on the street.
Alternatively, another lapsed commenter welcomed back into the fold!
We have lots of thoughts on this matter, some relating to the vitality sucking nature of demented demagogues, sociapathic succubi, etc. Let’s not consider this a victory for the other side, let’s consider this a victory for Auguste’s brain, having survived this long the maelstrom of dissonance that is suffering under the tetherballing uvula of Ms. Malkin.
Get over to Malkin Watch and give him a nice send-off, won’t you? Actually, just spread a trail of mini-peanut butter cups back here, so he may return to the nurturing bosom of 3B, where he belongs.
Allo, ees eet ‘ere? If this workies it is a sample of an upcoming song of the day!
Way to just lie there, limpy mcstimpy. Suckwad.
UPDATE! WORKSY MCWORKSERSON!! Welcome to New Romantic circa 1981. Will discuss at
Sadly, No! WTF? am I high? Song of the Day. I think either Shingles, or Pop Ren or Gavmo sent this one to me a long time ago. They would all love it. 80’s Mc80’son!