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	Thursday, March 18, 2004

EVIL GLENNS ST PATRICKS DAY (A FILTHY LIE) The best way to celebrate America's drinkin'est national holiday is by spending the evening at the drinkin'est dive in cyberspace, which, of course, is Madfish Willie's Cyber Saloon. The Bartender was still trying to clean up the mess from the comment party, while the revelers were still feverishly breaking things and de-felting the pool tables, thus leaving it an open question as to whether repair or destruction would win out. As I walked in, Matty O'Blackfive (looking resplendent in his "Kiss me, I'm a tater-tot" T-shirt), was just settling in next to Mike the Marine, who was sporting a green plastic bowler, and had apparently just arrived, himself... Mike: 'Bout time you lazy turds got here. Harv: You be nice, Jarhead, or I'll make some calls to my Navy buds & fix it so you'll have to WALK to your next overseas deployment. Mike: At least we'd get there faster that way. Those f'd up Navy garbage scows are slower than a doped-up hippie tryin' to choose an ice cream flavor at Baskin Robbins. Harv: Yeah, well, if you weighed 90,000 tons, you wouldn't move very fast, either. Mike: Funny, your wife seems to get around pretty good. Matty: Uh... Mike... [pointing over Mike's shoulder with a worried look on his face] Beloved Wife [standing behind Mike, one eyebrow raised, flexing one steely bicep]: *ahem* Mike: Uh... heh... I was just... uh... joking, and... um... well, I... please don't hurt me... Beloved Wife: Hmph! [walks away triumphantly] Matty: Damn, Harv. You've been married to her almost five years and yet you've always avoided being snapped in half like a twig. How'd you manage to keep your spine intact so long? Harv: A simple three-part formula: Love notes... Matty & Mike: mmm... Harv: ...Kevlar... Matty & Mike: Ahhhh.... Harv: ...and licking the alphabet. Matty & Mike [hastily scribbling on napkins]: Heyyyyy.... Mike: That near-death-experience has made me thirsty. I'm going up to the bar for a beer. Matty [smirking knowingly]: Just a plain old BEER? On this, the most sacred drinking night of 2004? Mike: Oh, not just any beer. The darkest, Irishest, most precioussssss beer of them all... Harv: Budweiser? Matty: [WHACK!] Blasphemer! Harv: OW! What? Michelob? Mike: Matty, kill him slowly Matty: Right. Harv: Geez, put down the pig-sticker, Matty! Guinness! Guinness! Matty: Hey look! Harv just figured out how to keep from acquiring a third nostril! Mike: Brilliant! Matty: Brilliant! Harv: Who you two morons stop quoting that stupid commercial? And get me one while you're up there. Matty: 6 for me please. Mike: Gee, Matty, I thought you'd be drinking a little heavier on St. Patty's day [shrugs, walks to the bar] Harv: Really, Matt. Only 6? I figured you'd be doing 12's for the holiday... Matty: Later. Right now I need one hand free to count off the reasons that John Kerry's a f'n asshat. One... changes his mind more often than Michael Moore at a Burger King. Two... Talks to more imaginary foreign potentates than Mr. Rogers in the Neighborhood of Make Believe. Three… We we interrupted by the crash of breaking glass and a scream of violated outrage coming from the direction of the bar... Mike: What the f*** is this shit? I ordered a f****** Guinness! Bartender: Piss off, ya dumb ass shave-tail! That WAS a Guinness! Mike: Ah BULLSHIT! Looked like water ta me, ya swindling bastard! Harv [approaching the bar]: Right! What's all this then? Mike: That 2-bit hooch-slinger tried to pass off a glass of Canada Dry as Guinness. Get me a rope. This bastard's gonna die... Bartender: You can take that rope & shove it up yer mudhole! I told you I gave you a Guinness! Harv: Barkeep... far be it from me to ever take up the cause of a man foolish enough to join a branch of the Armed Services that has to hitch a ride with the Navy any time they want to kill foreigners... Mike: Hey! Harv: Quiet, Mike, I'm stickin' up for ya... anyway, Barkeep, the man has a point. Guinness ain't exactly a 10 on the transparency scale. Bartender: Maybe not the OLD Guinness, but this is new Guinness Clear. Only one-third the carbs, with no extra additives, like flavor or alcohol. Plus, Currency Freak, it's as see-thru as your wife's blouse when she's out turning tricks. Beloved Wife [flexing]: I HEARD THAT! Bartender: Uh... I said "when you're beating Harv with sticks." Beloved Wife [smiling]: Heh. Yeah. He likes that... Bartender: PHEW!... Anyway, it's all I've got to drink in this joint, so deal with it! Matty [running up to the bar in a panic]: Guys! The TV! CNN Announcer: ... And repeating our top story... the streets of America are filled with hordes of distraught Irishmen, who find themselves tragically sober on the one night of the year when they're not considered social pariahs for being pugilistic drunkards. Somehow, someone has replaced the nation's entire supply of Guinness with a watery, flavorless beverage that may or may not be Miller Light. I haven't seen this sort of chaos since the frozen beer riots of a few months ago. Even as we speak, you can see distraught crowds of potato-chomping shillelagh-swingers milling about in anguish, searching desperately for something to replace the precious alcohol that gives meaning to their otherwise empty lives... Matty: Oh crap. See that helicopter in the background with EGI on the side? Mike: Evil Glenn Industries? Oh God. Not again... Harv: Buck up, boys, there's no time to lose. We have to save Saint Patty's Day from Evil Glenn's... uh... evil... Matty: Lose your inner thesaurus, there, Harv? Harv: Oh shut up! There's no time to waste bitching about my vocabulary... Matty, Harv & Mike: TO THE DRUNKMOBILE! In a flash, we drove up to the dark and brooding compound wherein lurked the ev... uh... really naughty Glenn Reynolds... Matty: Ok, Harvey, what's the plan? Harv: We just go in, and ask Glenn politely to please, in the spirit of international cooperation, return the nation's supply of real Guinness and not do mean things to the poor, besotted Irish anymore. And to pretty please be nice from now on. Matty: I said "Harvey", not "Kerry"! Harv: Oh. Sorry. Go in, kick Glenn's ass, and rescue the Guinness with extreme prejudice. Mike: OOOO! Me likey! So, in we went, with Mike screaming OOO-RAH!, Matty persistantly jumping off random pieces of furniture yelling, "Look! I'm a paratrooper!" and me shouting the occasional "Brilliant!" just to keep them interested in the mission. Soon we arrived at the inner sanctum and burst through the door to find... Evil Glenn sitting calmly in his chair, staring expectantly at the door... Matty: Give us... Mike: Guinness... Harv: Or die... Evil Glenn: Of course. As you can see, I've already poured 4 glasses of that delectable stout. I've been expecting you. Matty: Uh... Mike: Er... Harv: Wha?... Evil Glenn: Even though there are tremendous benefits to being the omnipotent Dark Overlord of the Blogosphere, it's very lonely at the top. On this, the dinkin'est night of the year, I just wanted some company, so I devised a scheme to get the three of you to join me for a drink. Mike: So there's no Guinness Clear? Evil Glenn: Pfffft! NO! I bribed the Bartender to mess with your heads. That watered down crap was just plain old Busch Light. Matty: Wait a minute... what about the CNN news report? Evil Glenn: Let's just say there are certain... secrets... that Ted Turner didn't want revealed... [dropping several candid snapshots on the table] Harv: Wow! I had no idea Ted was that... flexible... Mike: He looks rather pretty in that pink leather catsuit...[noticing stares from Matt & Harv]...uh... I mean for a guy... uh... Nevermind. Look, what about the hordes or belligerent, destructive Irishmen? Evil Glenn: Heh. They weren't really Irish. I just told the League of Liberals that Halliburton was invading Venezuela. Those idiots were out tearing up the streets in five seconds flat. But enough about me. Let's get drunk. Harv: We can't drink with you! You're a puppy-blending, hobo-murdering, Satan worshipper! Evil Glenn: It's Guinness. Matty: Good point Mike: Can't see any holes in THAT argument. Harv: But he's EVIL! Matty: So's being sober on St. Patrick's Day Mike: Or ever. Harv: Wellllllll... my inner sailor is a bit parched... Evil Glenn: Besides, I'm sure we'll tangle again soon enough. Earth Day's just around the corner... So anyway, I'm thinking of adding a fourth word to my blogging repertoire. What do you guys think of "nifty"? Matty: Kinda gay. How about "swell" Mike: Nah, too Beaver Cleaver. Go with "groovy" Harv: That is SOOOOO Brady Bunch. I'm thinkin' "supercalifragilisticexpialidocious". Just watch out for those Disney lawsuits… So we chatted & drank into the night, and come the dawn, went our separate ways with no backstabbing truce violations as one might expect from one as depraved as Evil Glenn. We will, no doubt meet again as enemies, but for a single night, there was a brief, alcohol-fueled truce in the Great Blog War. A night without tricks or treachery. Well… except for the fact that I stole Glenn's wallet… INSTAPUNDO DELENDA EST! posted by Harvey at 7:53:28 PM  permalink    Crappy Broken Radio Comments (do not use) [] trackback []  HOME

TODAY’S GRAFFITI CURRENCY John Kerry explains his position on Iraq. posted by Harvey at 7:02:56 PM  permalink    Crappy Broken Radio Comments (do not use) [] trackback []  HOME

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