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"The frightening power of Harvey's filthy lies makes me tremble like a Frenchman. I frequently wet myself in terror and... Oops... damn." - Glenn Reynolds

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  Monday, October 13, 2003


BEST. FILTHY. LIE. EVER.

Looks like J's gonna end up on my ever-growing list of "bloggers I'll never be funnier than". Here he comes with Evil Glenn's trip to the afterlife:

**********

"Mr. Reynolds? Mr. Reynolds?"

His eyes fluttered. His fingers twitched, stabbing at a non-existent keyboard. He sat up suddenly, a tiny trickle of saliva starting at the corner of his mouth. Eyes wide, he snapped his head back and forth, shock and fear on his face. He was in a clean hospital room, on a bed with blinding white sheets.

"Where's the flames?" he asked, eyes darting back and forth.

"Flames?" the old man in the white lab coat asked, "What flames?"

"I was expecting flames. They all said I was going to hell, so I was expecting flames," Glenn Reynolds said. He quickly looked himself over. He seemed to be okay, other than the hospital gown gapping at the back.

“Well, Mr. Reynolds. I certainly hope we exceed your expectations.” The old man smiled. Glenn felt the radiant and galactic warmth in that smile and was heartened. Perhaps all those late night rituals hadn’t been damning.

“There are a few things we need to discuss before we proceed, Mr. Reynolds.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. There are a number of missing puppies that we believe you were responsible for.”

The trickle of saliva increased into a stream. Glenn’s tongue touched his lips as he reveled in a momentary orgy of sensual memory. “Heh,” was all he managed to say.

**********

Plenty more. Go check it out. Drink Alert in effect.

 


posted by Harvey at 9:00:53 PM  permalink    Crappy Broken Radio Comments (do not use) [] trackback []  HOME




ALLIANCE ASSIGNMENT - PRECISION GUIDED HUMOR

This week's question:

What would you say if you had the floor at a Jacques Chirac press conference?

As a concerned world citizen who realizes that America shouldn't try to go it alone, I want to discover the root causes of France's reluctance to get involved in the Iraqi quagmire. What does America have to do to get France's help?


Do we need to provide France with tanks that have three gears in reverse?


Do we need to spray all the local goats with skunk juice so that French soldiers won't miss the smell of French whores while they're overseas?


Do we need to provide French soldiers with rifles to drop when they're surrendering to small Iraqi children?


Do we need to staff the interim government with badly-moustached sadists so that the French will be more comfortable working with them?


Or do we just need to keep reminding you cowardly, annoying bastards to shut the f*** up because we couldn't care less about what you think?


Oh, and by the way, in the spirit of international cooperation, I feel compelled to add that your mother is a fat, filthy slut who blows dead rats.


If you could give me a hard copy of your answers so I can wad it into a ball and shove it up your ass, I'd greatly appreciate it.


Thank you for your time, Mr. Chirac.


SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS!


posted by Harvey at 8:40:04 PM  permalink    Crappy Broken Radio Comments (do not use) [] trackback []  HOME




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