(A FILTHY LIE)
I was up in Green Bay, Wisconsin recently to catch a Packer game, and as part of the tailgating festivities, I strolled past the Brown County Mental Health Center because I find the chronically insane to be a source of endless amusement. Well, there was one guy walking around with a size 14 Army boot on his head, and I just had to find out what was going on...
Harv: Hey! Loony guy wearing a boot on his head! What's your psychosis?
Loony: I want to be elected Emperor.
Harv: Not really an elective office, as I'm sure Misha will attest, but I'll bite. What's your platform?
Loony: If elected, I promise to make Wonder-Bras the new official currency.
Harv: And if you lose?
Loony: Then I'll nuke France until it smells better.
Harv: Sounds like a win-win situation to me.
Loony: Also... Oh look! A puppy! Excuse me... Com'ere fuzz-butt. You've got a date with my Ronco Pocket Blender [WHIRRRR! *YIP!YIP!YIP!*gurgle*] [chug, chug] Ahhhhh! Better.
Harv: Hey! You're Evil Glenn!
Evil Glenn: And you're not as dumb as you look.
Harv: You monster! What are you doing in Green Bay?
Evil Glenn: Well, I tell ya. I'm lookin' to make some money. Penguin porn sales are down, Deal-A-Meal has just tanked since the resurgence of the Atkins Diet, and my "Myocardially Infarcting to the Oldies" video just isn't catching on. Marketing blames the high mortality rate, but personally, I blame the Beach Boys.
Harv: So, what's your new evil get-rich-quick scheme?
Evil Glenn: Well, Wisconsin is the sports-gambling capital of the world, so I'm going to rig a few games, place some heavy bets, and really clean up.
Harv: You're going to kneecap Brett Favre?
Evil Glenn: Football's too small-time to make the serious Benjamins. Think bigger.
Harv: Cow tipping?
Evil Glenn: Drunken frat-boy pranks aren't wagerable.
Harv: Good point. But according to my copy of "Stuck in Wisconsin? Alternatives to Suicide for Dummies", the Packers are the only item of interest in this state. Except for maybe Jeffrey Dahmer's apartment. What the hell are you going to gamble on?
Evil Glenn: Tiddlywinks.
Harv: Tiddlywinks is bigger than football? Bullshit!
Evil Glenn: Lawyer
Evil Glenn: It's a simple plan, really. Grease the right palms, and they'll boondock on a tiddle in the final round with no-one the wiser.
Harv: Well, that sounds diabolically clever enough, but you're broke. What are you going to use for bribe money?
Evil Glenn: Naked pictures of Britney Spears.
Harv: Get real, dumbass. That's just an urban legend. Those pictures don't really exist.
Evil Glenn: True, but PhotoShop does, and tiddlywinkers are notoriously stupid.
Harv: You evil, lying, conniving bastard!
Evil Glenn: Lawyer.
Harv: Again, touché. But you'll never get away with this. You'll be spotted and turned in. Your picture is all over the internet. Everyone knows what you look like.
Evil Glenn: Doesn't matter. I'm keeping a low profile.
Harv: Low profile? Before I stopped to talk to you, you were screaming your fool head off about mind control lasers from outer space. That's supposed to make people ignore you?
Evil Glenn: It worked for Kucinich, didn't it?
Harv: True, but irrelevant. I'll stop you myself, you sick, twisted...
Evil Glenn: Hey, look, it's Britney Spears, and she's stark naked!
Harv: Oh boy! Where?
Evil Glenn: Sucker! [FWING!]
Harv: Hey, that's not Brittany Spears, it's Helen Thomas. Oh GOD! MY EYES!
... Wait. Where did Evil Glenn go? DAMN! I've gotta warn HQ... and in the name of humanity, Helen, put some FREAKING clothes on!
Glenn's evil knows no bounds. Now he's rigging tiddlywink tournaments to make money in a corrupt gambling scheme. This MUST BE STOPPED!
INSTAPUNDO DELENDA EST!
posted by Harvey at 9:20:43 AM permalink HOME