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  Friday, May 07, 2004


... is up at Bad Example, and I already got my first troll.

Ok, so it was me.

Anyway, the Bartender has it more or less functional, so I hope to attempt the crossover this weekend. Meanwhile, feel free to become the second troll. Or third.

Whatever. I'm just happy to be getting my comments e-mailed to me again.

posted by Harvey at 11:53:10 PM  permalink    Crappy Broken Radio Comments (do not use) [] trackback []  HOME


Friday linky stuff

Filthy Lie Round-up: Evil Glenn's First Post. This is the highest quality assortment of goodies in a long time. Don't miss 'em.

New Filthy Lie assignment: Evil Glenn's Fed-Ex Package

posted by Harvey at 11:06:48 PM  permalink    Crappy Broken Radio Comments (do not use) [] trackback []  HOME


One of the Alliance's blogless Sympathetic Civilians (Sally) asked me to post her filthy lie for her. Since it's a good first effort, I see no reason not to:

(Glenn Reynolds, Harvard, circa 1991 sitting on his beanbag of the blackest ice still awaiting his throne)


...Tap... tap... tap...

"Ahhh the trusty old BBC Micro. Muwahahaha! Bow... down... before... the... Evil... Internet... Overlord!!!! Heh, indee......"


....Reconnection noise of modem....

"Heh! Not enough people on this internet-thing to dominate yet."

....Reconnection noise of modem....
....Busy tone....
"Gives me time to work on my typing speed and look at though... Mmmmm flightless aquatic arctic waterfowl tastefully posed."
....Reconnection noise of modem....
"Damn my ISP and Dial Up!!!"

....Reconnection noise of modem....
....Busy tone....
Fast Forward 7 years, many typing monkeys and several thousand blended puppies/murdered hobos later....
"I am now a FULLY FLEDGED megalomaniac! Sorry, LAWYER. If only I didn't feel so lethargic!"
....Blender noises and slurping....
"Mmmmm. Springer spaniel puppy. Gives me a nice spring in my step. Now where was I?? Heh. Ignore my first post. I am now secure in Castle Glenn. The bones of hobos and puppies litter the great hall. I have several hundred pairs of socks to go with my sandals. I own 10 of the finest Italian mopeds with their 1 forward and 10 reverse gears. Black Mass is held thrice daily and due to my high energy diet (the Alsation diet - high in carbs and collars so forget Atkins! ) I have even managed to punch bloggers in my specialist French Schoolgirl form of martial art. What time is it? Really? I still have time to make 3999 more posts in the next hour then!"
...Tap... tap... tap... heh... tap... tap... tap... link... tap... tap... tap... indeed...

If you liked this, please leave some encouragement in the comments, and we'll see if we can get Sally's courage up to start a little something at Blogspot, and perhaps move on from there.


posted by Harvey at 9:18:26 PM  permalink    Crappy Broken Radio Comments (do not use) [] trackback []  HOME


I wandered into Madfish Willie's Cyber Saloon the other night, mostly to check out the damage from the comment party. Looked like the clean up was coming along fine, although the guys in the HazMat suits were a little creepy. Anyway, I figured a Guinness and some of Matty O'Blackfive's war stories would do me good.

But Matty wasn't there.

So I inquired politely of the Bartender...

Harv: Hey Bartender! Where the f*** is Matty? He was supposed to meet me here.

Bartender: How the f*** should I know, asshole? Do I look like his f***** mother?

Harv: Only by way of the hairy back. This is just weird. He's always here.

Bartender: Now that I think about it, he did call and leave a message. Something about he wasn't coming tonight because he was going to spend the evening playing "bats" with Little Blackfive.

Harv: "Bats"? What the hell is "bats"?

... Meanwhile at a filthy hippy protest rally in Chicago...

Filthy Hippy Dude: Iraq is Bush's Vietnam! Uh... something... something... something... bomb!

Matty: Ok, Little Blackfive, do it just like I taught you.

Little Blackfive: Ok, dad.

Filthy Hippy Dude: Condi Rice sure lies a lot! Condi Rice sure is a... Oh, hey little midget dude! Wait... you're not a midget, you're a child. That means... [thinking really hard for a hippy]... You're one of THE CHILDREN (tm)! There's nothing I wouldn't do for THE CHILDREN (tm)!

Little Blackfive: Good. Then stand still, f***face. [swinging Louiville Slugger] *CRACK!*

Filthy Hippy Dude: OH GOD! My kneecaps! I'll never walk again!

Little Blackfive: Or reproduce [laying a Barry Bonds on Filthy Hippy Dude's gonads] *WHACK!*

Filthy Hippy Dude: AIEEEEEE!

Little Blackfive: How was that, Dad?

Matty [tousling his hair]: That's my boy!


Bartender: You're right. That doesn't make any sense. Maybe he said "catch". Anyway, what's your poison?

Harv: Guinness. Cold. And a CLEAN glass, if you don't mind.

Bartender: Persnickety bitch. At least my glasses are cleaner than your skid-marked underwear.

Harv: I prefer to think of them as "performance art".

Bartender: Whatever. You gonna pay for that, or just stand there twiddling your dick?

Harv: Both [flipping paper onto the bar]

Bartender: What the f*** is that? That's not money, that's just a piece of paper with some scribbling on it. Is that a love note or somethin'?   

Harv: No, Love Notes are for my wife.

Bartender: You think I'm your wife?

Harv: Nah, my wife at least bathes on occasion. You're just my bitch. Now what the hell does that thing say?

Bartender "Lie assignment - Glenn's first post". You want to ride Glenn's post? Sick bastard!

Harv: AW SHIT! I knew I forgot something. I have to find out about Evil Glenn's first post so I have a Filthy Lie for the round-up on Friday, and I haven't even started.

Bartender: Not that it matters. Your crap is about as funny as a porcupine enema anyway.

Harv: Beats your dumb-ass cow jokes, though. Damn. I gotta get outta here & do some research.

Bartender: Screw that. Why don't you just have your blogless brother hack into Glenn's computer & do some pokin' around?

Harv: Nah. That's GEBIV'S schtick.

Bartender: Who?

Harv: Nevermind. Look, why don't you come with me & help me dig up the dirt?

Bartender: Because you're a retarded monkey humper.

Harv: Besides that.

Bartender: Eh. No reason. Nobody's in here anyway. I'll kick the HazMat guys out & close early.

Harv: Great! To the Drunkmobile!

Bartender: Nope.

Harv: What?

Bartender: Can't do that. I let Eric borrow it for the night.

Harv: Eric? That souse? You think that was a good idea?

Bartender: He's a responsible former Marine. What could happen?

... Meanwhile at a nearby demolition derby...

Eric: YEEEEEE-HAWWW!  *CRASH*  WHOO-HOO!  *crumple*  Yippee-ki-yay mother- *SMASH*


Harv: I guess you're right. Come on. We'll take my Yugo.

We drove through the night, narrowly avoiding being caught in a toxic monkey-dung spill, and soon arrived at Evil Glenn's sinister compound...

Bartender: I can't believe you drove to Tennessee from Texas via Milwaukee.  Why the f*** didn't you stop to ask directions?

Harv: Because I have a penis. Duh! All men are genetically incapable of admitting they're lost.

Bartender: I know that. I just thought that a mutant freak like yourself would be exempt.

Harv: You're just jealous because my size 12 shoes prove the old wive's tale. What size Nike's are YOU sporting?

Bartender [blushing & looking away]: Size 5... boys.

Harv: You've got short, stubby fingers, too.

Bartender: F*** you! Let's just get this over with. I've got a date later.

Harv: She can wait. Inflatable Katie's a patient gal.

Bartender: Hey! She may be a blow-up doll, but at least... uh... anyway, can we get on with this?

We snuck up to the main building, pausing only to kick a few of his killer attack rabbits out of the way (no offense, Roxette).

Harv: I didn't know bunnies could scream like that.

Bartender: Still sounds better than homicidalManiak's singin'

Harv: I don't think it's a good idea to make fun of a woman who wields a hatchet-saw.

Bartender: Oh f*** her. She can take a joke. So, how do we get in, Einstein?

Harv: Maybe ring the doorbell... [ding dong]

Jen [answering door in black leather catsuit]: Yes? May I help you?

Harv: Greetings, oh erotically clad minion of the dark puppy-blending overlord of the blogosphere. We are weary travellers who have sojourned many leagues, seeking knowledge of...

Jen: Let me re-phrase that. What the f*** do you want?

Bartender: Let me handle this, Wordsworth. We need access to Evil Glenn's computer database for a Filthy Lie assignment.

Jen: Sure. Come on in.

Harv: What? Just like that? I thought you were Evil Glenn's loyal minion and/or spicy sex toy?

Jen: Technically, yes, but I haven't been paid in over a month. Seems Mr. Important has been squandering the payroll on penguin porn and ivory-handled hobo-filleting knives. I'm game for a little payback.

Harv: Sweet! Lead on. And, uh... walk slowly. We'll fantasize... er, fondle… FOLLOW you.

Jen led us to a small office containing an ancient TRS-80....

Jen: That was Glenn's first computer. It should have what you're looking for.

Harv: Great! What's the password?

Jen: Shut up! I'm trying to do my nails.

Harv: Fine. Let's see... DRINKPUP... Hey! Got it in one. Now we just look for the earliest date, and... Oh my...

Bartender: Naked Helen Thomas?

Harv: No... it's... geez, I knew Glenn was a pathetic geek loser, but...

Bartender: Well? Either tell us or move your pointy head so I can read it.

Harv: Unbelievable... it says:

It's time to end this ridiculous debate once and for all. With my devastating intellectual brilliance, I will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Kirk was by far the superior Starship Captain, and that Picard was a total loser. The following 100 pieces of evidence are indisputable:

100. Kirk is a leader, not a follower.
99. Kirk never really got into that kinky "Jumpsuit" look.
98. Kirk has sex more than once a season.
97. One Word: Hair.
96. Another Word: Pretty-good-looking-can't-see-the-weave-WIG.
95. Kirk can beat up a Klingon bare-handed.
94. Picard is a French man with an English accent.
93. Kirk would date Beverly Crusher -- and damn the consequences!!
92. Kirk never drinks tea.  Ever.
91. Diplomacy for Kirk is a phaser and a smirk.


Harv: He actually listed 100 different reasons.

Bartender: What a dweeb. What's that one comment to the post say?

Harv: "U R dum. Picard roolz cuz:"

101. Two Words: better voice.
100. Picard's ship's counselor traded in her miniskirt for that great low-cut neckline.
99. Kirk fought over women. Picard had women fight over him.
98. Picard fires both photon torpedoes AND phasers at the same time when in battle.
97. Picard's ship is better than Kirk's -- better, faster, stronger.
96. Picard hates children -- Kirk once rescued a bunch of patricidal little maniacs, tried to console them, and almost lost his ship and crew in the process.
95. Picard was responsible for Beverly Crusher's husband dying, berated her son constantly in her presence, yet still manged to make her fall for him.
94. Though admittedly he's seldom a patron, Picard's ship actually has a BAR.
93. Kirk fought others himself, Picard has others do his fighting for him.
92. When nurse Chapel re-appeared as Troi's mother, she fell for Picard.
91. In seven years, Picard never developed a gut like Kirk's.


Harv: This one has 101. Guess that solves THAT argument once and for all. And it's signed... Frank J.

Bartender: You mean Frank might have misled us as to the real reason for his declaring war on Glenn?

Harv: Frank lied

Bartender: But puppies died!

Harv: Such a moral quandry.

Jen: Would you guys shut up? I'm trying to watch my tape of the last episode of Friends.

Harv: What for? They kiss, happy ending, blah, blah, blah..

Jen: You BASTARD! I'll strangle you dead!

Bartender: Come on Harv, time to go.

We ran back to the Yugo, pausing only to turn around occasionally to enjoy the sight of Jen's leather-clad jiggling as she pursued us. Fortunately, her six-inch stilletto heels slowed her down enough to allow us to make good our escape. After another short detour through Wisconsin, where we were almost run off the road by the state's thoroughly hammered Attorney General, we arrived safely back at Madfish Willie's...

Bartender: Well, Harv, are you going to tell the truth about what you discovered, even though it may destroy Frank's credibility?

Harv: The truth must be told, otherwise the Alliance will lose the moral high ground in our battle against evil.

Bartender: But I thought the Alliance was based on Filthy Lies?

Harv: Aw shit. Another moral quandry. Maybe I'll just lie about it being the truth, in which case the truth will be a filthy lie and because I lied about the truth being a lie, it'll still be a filthy lie.

Bartender: Sorta like "Bowling for Columbine"?

Harv: Exactly.  

Bartender: Do whatever ya want, dipshit, this is my stop. I gotta go back in the bar & tidy up a few things.

Harv: You mean pull Inflatable Katie of that shelf in the closet.

Bartender: Pretty much.

Harv: Tell her I said "Hi"… say… who's that standing in front of the bar?

homicidalManiak [casually twirling hatchet-saw]: So… Bartender… don't like my singing?

Bartender: …oh …crap … Uh… Hey! Look over there! Is that a bowl of lime Jello?

hM: Soul food? Where?

Bartender: Sucker! [FWING!]

hM: [jumping into my car]: Quick! Get this Yugo into gear & run him down!

Harv: Did you just use the words "quick" and "Yugo" in the same sentence?

hM: I did, didn't I?… *giggle*…  Nevermind.

Harv: Say... how'd you know what the Bartender said about you, anyway?

hM: I'm LDS, remember? The Mormon Temple is part of the Illuminati, so I can find out pretty much anything.

Harv: You mean you could have found out about Evil Glenn's first post for me?

hM: What, that stupid Star Trek thing? I thought everybody knew about that! I've even got the T-shirt, see? [opening jacket to reveal "Glenn's First Post" T-shirt, with Kirk's reasons on the front and Picard's reasons on the back]

Harv: Oh.

hM: Did I say something wrong?

Harv: No… no… come on, I'll take ya home. Maybe you can sing me a song with that pretty voice of yours while I drive?

hM: Sure. Anything in particular?

Harv: Some Warren Zevon would be nice. I think you know the one [putting the car in gear and getting up to speed].

HM: Sure do. *AHEM*

I started as an alter boy, working at the church
Learning all my holy moves, doing some research
Which led me to a cash box, labeled "Children's Fund"
I'd leave the change, and tuck the bills inside my cummerbund

Harv: Oh yeah!


posted by Harvey at 8:09:35 PM  permalink    Crappy Broken Radio Comments (do not use) [] trackback []  HOME

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