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Bad Money

  Friday, January 30, 2004


A small but but potent round-up on the topic of Evil Glenn's childhood pictures. I'm guessing the rest of the Alliance membership had seen Evil Glenn's latest invention and were scared away.

New Filthy Lie Assignment: What are Evil Glenn's favorite web sites?

The poll on the topic of what to do with non-compliant Alliance members is starting to show a trend. Currently, "public humiliation" is dead even with "They're witches! Burn them!".

posted by Harvey at 9:44:30 PM  permalink    Crappy Broken Radio Comments (do not use) [] trackback []  HOME


I thought this assignment was going to be easy. That idiot Reynolds STILL hasn't bothered to install a firewall on his computer, so hacking in was a piece of cake. Strolling through his files, the My Pictures folder was an easy find. Although I'd hoped to find a straight-on full-face childhood shot of him so I could recognize him when I go back in time to stop him from becoming Evil Glenn the Puppy Blending Dark Overlord of the Blogosphere, I had no such luck.

But my efforts were not wholly unrewarded. I did get a glimpse of the young Glenn, and some tantalizing clues as to possible causes of his later corruption.

The root causes of his hobo-hatred probably stem from a difficult childhood. Frequently despondent and often penniless, the young vagabond Glenn lived among the hobos, but was never truly content to do so. He probably blamed them for his early pain and set about taking his vengeance upon them.

The hard years of his youth, and the malnutrition that frequently accompanies poverty, interfered with Glenn's physical development, causing him to become freakishly deformed. However, with the help of a sympathetic vampire, he became a member of the undead. Although somewhat troubled by the loss of his soul, he was pleased that his complexion finally cleared up. For some reason, though, women would still run away, screaming, at the sight of him.

With no love to call his own, he must have recalled one of the few happy days of his youth that he'd spent at the local zoo, where he first laid eyes on a penguin. Here he can be seen, clearly stunned and transfixed at the lovely sight he beheld. So shapely. So graceful. In his teens, however, that early, innocent love degenerated to a sick lust. In this picture, note the position of his hands as he desperately clutches as his first artificial lover.

As to puppies, I don't know the exact trauma that first caused Glenn to think of them as sustenance instead of playful pets. I do know that it must have been shortly after birth, possibly even in the womb. Even in this photo, where he's probably not even a year old, his hunger for things canine is dreadfully obvious. As he matured, he, like most primates, learned to use tools. His first tool of choice was a single, non-whirling blade. Later, possibly because chewing all that ropy dog-flesh hurt his fangs, he experimented with beverages. Here we see an early attempt to make puppy tea. Eventually he found his modus operandi, and the made the blender his tool of choice.

Having glimpsed several views of Evil Glenn's early life, I am filled with nausea and loathing. However, considering how truly horrifying some of his other early hobbies were, I'm almost relieved that he took up puppy-blending.


posted by Harvey at 8:21:19 PM  permalink    Crappy Broken Radio Comments (do not use) [] trackback []  HOME

  Thursday, January 29, 2004


Since Heather of Angelweave is the PeTA whackin' queen (or biting, as the case may be), I must admit that I was surprised that I ended up hearing this bit of PeTA news from Kevin of Wizbang. Apparently the PeTA peckerheads have hoisted a particularly tacky billboard near Richmond.

Personally, I think it's kind of funny in an Itchy & Scratchy kind of way.

Of course, the real reason you should click the link is that, in the comments, the Evil Puppy Blender weighs in under an assumed name.

posted by Harvey at 7:03:15 PM  permalink    Crappy Broken Radio Comments (do not use) [] trackback []  HOME

  Sunday, January 25, 2004


I spent my former Packers-watching hours collecting all the Evil Glenn quotes from the entire Alliance membership and posting the results at Alliance HQ. My eyes are still busy crossing & uncrossing from all that screen starting, but I was pleasantly surprised at both the quantity and quality. A few of my favorites:

The Patriette: "The existence of this blog inspires me to shave my eyebrows." -Glenn Reynolds

See The Donkey: "I still don't understand why paper beats rock." - Glenn Reynolds

A Life of Freedom: "Out of all the Blogs that nobody reads, I like Christian over at A Life of Freedom the best." - Glenn Reynolds

Five Wasps: "I would gladly sever my testicle to be the sixth WASP." - Glenn Reynolds

Intergalactic Capitalist: From Glenn Reynolds Recipes:"The key to a crispy crust on puppy creme pie is using lard squeezed from the thighs of Hillary Clinton."

From the Halls to the Shores: Let Mike the Marine win your hearts and minds, or he'll burn your damn village down. - Glenn Reynolds

Le Sabot Post-Moderne: "Discoshaman is the El Guapo of the blogosphere. His writing is MORE than fluent -- it's effluent!" -Glenn Reynolds Glenn Reynolds: "You want conservative homo stuff? Forget Sully. Demmons is all you need."

Physics Geek: "The Physics Geek is a nerdy fellow with absolutely no socially redeeming qualities. It's like I'm looking in a mirror." - Glenn Reynolds

and probably my very favorite:

Feste...a foolsblog: Glenn Reynolds Asks: "Does butter count as clothing?"

There are SO many more up there, you'd best go look & see for yourself.

posted by Harvey at 6:42:09 PM  permalink    Crappy Broken Radio Comments (do not use) [] trackback []  HOME

  Friday, January 23, 2004


It was a quiet night at Madfish Willie's Cyber Saloon. I was sitting in the corner tipping a few with Matty O'Blackfive and we were discussing weighty matters of great import, as men of the world such as ourselves are wont to do:

Matty: I can't believe Frank J. spelled Howard Dean's scream "YEAGH!". What an idiot! There was clearly no "g" sound in there.

Harv: You're so full of shit! There was obviously a "g" sound in there. Actually about 4 or 5. Right in a row. Probably should've been "YEAg-g-g-g-gah!".

Matty: I think you must've gotten syphilis in the Navy, because your insanity is starting to show. That was no "g". It was more like that sound Jewish guys make when they pronounce "Chanukah".

Harv: Howard Dean's Jewish? I thought that was Lieberman… Anyway, it reminded me more of that dinosaur-bird scream you always heard in Johnny Quest cartoons.

Matty: Now you're the one who's full of shit. But I'm too thirsty to argue. I'm getting another pitcher of beer... You want anything?

Harv: Nah. I'm good.

Matty: Bartender! Pitcher me!

Bartender: How about a "please" with that you ungrateful paratrooping assgremlin?

Matty: Sure. Please give me a f****** pitcher.

Bartender: That's better. But I still ain't giving you jack shit. You drank the place dry, and my supplier says he can't get me any more beer, or anything else, for that matter. Seems like every alcoholic beverage in the country has become trapped in blocks of ice.

Matty: What the hell are you talking about?

Bartender: Here, I'll show you - let me turn on the TV...

Mindy Minx: Yes! Take me! Oh! Oh! Harder! Oh God! Oh yes! Harder!

Bartender: Oops! Wrong channel. Heh.

CNN: We take you live...

Harv [walking up to the bar]: Hey Bartender! Turn that back to the other channel! I was wanking... uh,... watching that!

Bartender: Shut up & pay attention... and get your hand out of your pants!

Harv: Don't try to step on my good time, you festering anal blister! I'm not the one who keeps his inflatable girlfriend in the broom closet!

Bartender: You bastard! I told you to stay out of that closet. I swear, if you touched ONE painted plastic hair on Hildegard's head...

Matty: Would you both just shut the f*** up? I'm trying to watch the news!

CNN info-babe: Thanks, Wolf. I'm here in Boston amongst indescribable chaos. Every alcoholic beverage in the entire city has become encased in solid ice. Crowds of angry and tragically sober Irishmen are pounding on the ice with their shillelaghs, attempting to free the trapped beer. I'm told that similar versions of this horrifying scene are taking place all across the country, and even as far away as Russia

Harv: Well, who woulda thunk it?

Matty: What?

Harv: That Irishmen are actually good for something.

Matty: You son of a bitch! You take that back!

Harv: Whoa! Geez! Back off, Matty! All right, all right, I take it back. Irishmen aren't good for anything.

Matty: That's better! I… Hey!

Harv: No time for petty squabbles now. I've got a strong feeling that Evil Glenn is behind this.

Matty: What makes you say that?

Harv: Check the TV. See that helicopter hovering over the crowd? It says "EGI" on the side.

Matty: Evil Glenn Industries! Of course! And look… there's the loathsome yet unmistakable "broadcast tower spewing flying white blended puppies of death" logo on the front of it! I can't believe how stupidly obvious he is. You'd think that after all his years of being an Evil Overlord, he'd have found some time to read the manual.

Harv: Maybe he just hasn't gotten to #13 yet. Regardless, we've GOT to stop him!

Matty: Quickly! To the DrunkMobile!

We sped through the darkness until we finally reached the frozen wastelands of Knoxville and Evil Glenn's Instacompound. We burst into his Unholy Inner Sanctum. Surprisingly we met no resistance. Probably because Reynolds was too busy blogging to notice us…

Evil Glenn: "Hmmm"… link… post… "Heh"… link… post… "Indeed"… link… post…

Matty: *ahem *

Evil Glenn: Oh, thanks… "ahem"… link… post…

Harv: Uh… Glenn?

Evil Glenn: "Uh"… link… post… "Glenn"… link… Wait a minute… Hey! What are you guys doing in here?

Matty: We're from the Alliance and we've come to stop your evil scheme!

Evil Glenn: Thank goodness! For a second there I thought you were from the government and you were here to help me. So… which evil scheme has your undies in a bowline hitch this time?

Harv: The one where you encase all the alcoholic beverages in blocks of ice.

Evil Glenn: OHHHHH! That one! Yes, you see, I've created a weather-control device and I'm using its power for my own sick, twisted pleasure.

Matty: But the beer! The precious BEER! Think of the children!

Harv: The what?

Evil Glenn: Did you say... "children"?

Matty: Sorry. I have a rare disease akin to epilepsy. If I don't drink, I have fits of liberalism.

Evil Glenn: … Yes... well… anyway… I've been having difficulty finding hobos to murder for Satan, lately. Seems that most of the time, after they buy their bottle of Mad Dog, they hide down in the trainyards to get drunk, which makes it a real bitch to track 'em down. So I'm using this weather-control device to icify all the booze. That way, the pathetic bastards will all be gathered around the ice blocks, weeping & moaning. They'll be easy to spot and even easier to slaughter. MUAHAHAHA!

Matty: But there'll also be throngs of innocent Irishmen wailing and sobbing! What if you mistake them for hobos?

Evil Glenn: Won't happen. They may both be smelly, drunken, ne'er-do-wells, but it's easy to tell the difference between a hobo and an Irishman.

Matty: Oh yeah? How?

Evil Glenn: Hobos don't carry shillelaghs

Matty: Well, as long as the Irish are safe. C'mon, Harv, let's go…

Harv: Matty… all the beer is still frozen…

Matty: Oh! Right! Right!… Ok, Evil Glenn, turn your little machine to "defrost" or whatever you have to do. Let my pilsner go!

Harv: Matty, you're paraphrasing Moses…

Matty: Another side effect of the sobriety. Don't worry about it.

Evil Glenn: Well, boys, here's my ass, so you might as well start kissing it! I don't see how you'll be able to stop me this time... Unless one of you thought to bring a gun?

Harv: Damn!

Matty: Crap!

Harv: I guess we're screwed.

Matty [weeping openly]: The children! The environment! Save the whales! Tax the rich! Bush = Hitler and he lied! Lied! LIED!


Just then, dozens of black-clad BATF agents crashed through the doors and windows, wildly waving automatic weapons…

Janie Jackboot: Freeze, Evil Glenn! Don't move a muscle or we'll Swiss cheese your skinny white ass! Uh… I mean, we're from the government, and we're here to help you.

Billy Brownshirt: Yeah! What she said!

Norman Nazikin: By order of Janet Reno, we hereby command you to surrender to our august Imperial Authority and prepare yourself for relocation to a concentra… er… happy camp.

Evil Glenn: Janet Reno? She hasn't been Attorney General in years

Janie Jackboot: Well, she was when we started out, but SOMEONE [looking pointedly at Billy Brownshirt] wouldn't stop to ask directions.

Billy Brownshirt: Listen biatch, I wasn't lost! I knew exactly where we were going!

Janie Jackboot: My sweet, round ass, dipshit. You care to explain how the f*** we wound up spending a week in Albuquerque then?

Billy Brownshirt: I… uh… well… YOU SHUT UP!

Evil Glenn: Look, folks… it's not like I'm not having oodles of happy-sparkly fun here, but would you please either arrest me or get the hell out of my house?

Norman Nazikin: Sorry 'bout that. Those two have been cat-and-dogging it for months. I tell ya, if I didn't get my rocks off on pistol-whipping defenseless people, I'd have been out of this chicken-shit outfit YEARS ago. Why, just last week…

Evil Glenn: GET. ON. WITH. IT!

Norman Nazikin: Right, right… Glenn Reynolds, you are under arrest for unlawfully interfering with interstate commerce in violation of Article I, Section 8 of the United States Constitution, in that you did willfully and flagrantly encase alcoholic beverages in ice across state lines, thus causing crowds of foul-smelling, unruly Irishmen to…

Matty: Hey! Now just a damn minute there, you…

Janie Jackboot [shoving an Uzi into Matty's left nostril]: Got a problem there, bog-trotter?

Matty: EEP!

Janie Jackboot: Just keep your peace, Paddy O' Tater-tot.

Norman Nazikin: … as I was saying… causing them to riot obstreperously in the otherwise peaceful…

Evil Glenn: Look, Goering, I'm a lawyer. I know my rights, I know the law, and I know you've got nothing on me. I was simply transmitting electromagnetic energy from where I am to where the booze was. According to United States vs. Lopez, since there was no money changing hands in a financial transaction, the Federal Government can't prove jurisdiction under the
Constitution's Necessary and Proper clause to bring charges against me, as no actual commerce was taking place.

Janie Jackboot: Perhaps so, but under Ileto vs. Glock, Inc., this would still expose you to liability under common-law nuisance provisions and…

Evil Glenn: Don't split hairs with me, young woman! I know full well that Marbury vs. Madison declares explicitly that it is solely the provision of the Supreme Court, and NOT the Executive Branch - of which YOU are a part, I might add - to declare what the law IS. Your feeble pronouncements of…

Matty: Bored now.

Harv: Tell me about it. I just remembered why I dropped out of law school.

Matty: Titty bar?

Harv: Right behind you.

Matty [strolling casually toward the door]: I heard that Trixie the Times Square Wonder Hooker is appearing at Blender's.

Harv: [following] Isn't she the one who can thread a needle without using her hands or feet?

Matty: The very same.

Harv: I've always wanted to see that trick…

The rest of the night was pretty much a blur of dollar bills, g-strings, and prehensile labia, and I don't recall much in the way of detail, but the morning paper did say something about Evil Glenn's weather machine's transmissions violating the Telecommunications Act of 1996, abuse of the public airwaves, blah, blah, blah – or something like that. All I know is that America's beer is both thawed out and freely accessible once again, thanks to the unflagging bravery of myself and America's favorite drunken Irish paratrooper, Matty O' Blackfive.

If you'd like to show your appreciation, you can buy us a round of seven (6 for Matty, 1 for me) next time you see us at Madfish Willie's.


posted by Harvey at 12:00:40 AM  permalink    Crappy Broken Radio Comments (do not use) [] trackback []  HOME

  Thursday, January 15, 2004


It's not always easy being an Alliance agent, but a little hard work and/or criminal activity is a small price to pay for helping to defeat the Puppy Blender. I figured some scandal would ruin his popularity among the delicate-sensibilitied soccer-mom contingent, so, with lock picks in hand, I made my way to his house, intent on plumbing the dark secrets of Evil Glenn's foul
sleeping chamber

Turns out I didn't need the tools. The door was still in pieces from my last expedition. Stealthily, I crept inside, making my way toward his bedroom, where I gently shoved the door open to reveal...

Impenetrable darkness.

Hmmm... Ah! Light switch!



There wasn't a single damn thing in the room.

"What the hell?" I mumbled to myself.

Evil Glenn: Something wrong, Currency Freak?

Harv: GAH! Don't sneak up on me like that!

Evil Glenn: Before I dial 911 to report your violation of my home's sanctity, may I inquire as to what you're doing here?

Harv: I was just, uh... selling Girl Scout cookies... uh... Thin Mint?

Evil Glenn: No sash, no beret, no green dress... I call bullshit...  I'm also calling the cops...

Harv: All right! All right! I'm here trying to dig up dirt on your bizarre sexual proclivities by finding out what's in your bedroom. I have to free the blogosphere from your oppression... Alliance of Free Blogs... Instapundo Delenda Est... yada yada yada.

Evil Glenn: Oh. Another stupid Alliance assignment that nobody but you cares about. Heh. Like I give a shit. Well, feel free to look around. As you can see, there's nothing here for me to be ashamed of.

Harv: I... I don't understand. What happened to all the stuff that was in here?

Evil Glenn: What "stuff" would that be?

Harv: Well, Phelps said...

Evil Glenn: DAMN THAT EVERLASTING PHELPS! Because of his hacking of my Robo-maid, the INS found out she was here illegally, and she got deported back to Robo-Mexico. Phelps will DIE! DIE! DIE!

Harv: That threat was more convincing when it was written in puce crayon.

Evil Glenn: Regardless, I had to "clean house", as it were, and get rid of all those shameful items he mentioned.

Harv: So they're all gone?

Evil Glenn: Yup. Sold 'em on eBay. Made quite the tidy sum.

Harv: So the copy of "Are You There Allah? It's Me, Osama"?...

Evil Glenn: Saddam picked that up. I guess he was tired of reading the 10-year-old issues of Ladies Home Journal that make up the bulk of the prison library.

Harv: The Ronco Inside the Skin Puppy Scrambler?

Evil Glenn: David Letterman.

Harv: Letterman?

Evil Glenn: Why are you so surprised? A high-powered late night talk-show host like him needs a good energy drink to keep him going. Did you think that was COFFEE he keeps sipping out of that mug?

Harv: The autographed nude photo of Fidel Castro?

Evil Glenn: Heh. You wouldn't believe how much Michael Moore ended up paying for that one.

Harv: Tinfoil fedora? Wait... let me guess... Dennis Kucinich needed it to ward off the mind-controlling space lasers?

Evil Glenn: Got it in one.

Harv: How about the manuscript of "How To Take Over The World With A Website"?

Evil Glenn: Frank J. bought it.

Harv: Frank J!?!

Evil Glenn: Yup. Maybe you should start keeping an eye on your Fearless Leader.

Harv: Hmmm... anyway, what happened to the rest of the crap?

Evil Glenn: I donated it to the Salvation Army for the tax write-off.

Harv: You lie! Do you expect me to believe the IRS would give you credit for donating monkey toes?

Evil Glenn: They let Bill Clinton write off his used underwear.

Harv: Touché... So... there's nothing in this room you'd be embarrassed to have people find out about?

Evil Glenn: I'm a little angel.

Harv: Then what about the contents of... THIS CLOSET! [sliding open the door to reveal 800 pairs of knee-high white socks and 800 pairs of sandals]

Evil Glenn: So what? I'm a lawyer, not freakin' Stacy London! Whaddya gonna do? Call the fashion police on me? MUAHAHAHAHA!

Harv: I guess... I guess I've failed. There's no hope left for the Alliance.

Evil Glenn: Heh. I could've told you that back in August. You might as well start bowing down before me now, because you're doomed to become my mindless servant. Doomed. DOOOMED, I SAY!

Harv: Yes, master. I will now murder hobos for your Satanic needs, and... Say,... what's behind this curtain?

Evil Glenn: NOOOOOOO! Don't touch that! No one must see my darkest secret!

Harv [pulling back the curtain]: Oh... Dear... GOD!

Evil Glenn: Uh... I can explain...

Harv: That's the most revolting...

Evil Glenn: Look. I'm willing to negotiate... If you keep quiet about this, I'll give you an Instalanche.

Harv: I don't know...

Evil Glenn: Come on. I won't even say "Indeed".

Harv: Well...

Evil Glenn: That's the spirit. Now just run along on home and don't breathe a word of this. Check your referrer logs later. I believe you'll be pleasantly surprised.

What can I say? I was weak. The temptation of more hits in one day than I've gotten in my whole blog-life was just too much to resist. So I left.

I suppose you're wondering why I posted all this, then... Is it because I'm dishonest? Unreliable? Untrustworthy?



So here's Evil Glenn's deepest, darkest secret. (Do I have to mention that it's not work-safe?)

Rot in hell, you lying bastard.


posted by Harvey at 10:25:30 PM  permalink    Crappy Broken Radio Comments (do not use) [] trackback []  HOME

  Wednesday, January 07, 2004


It was a sad evening for me. I'd been over at Madfish Willie's Cyber Saloon, knocking back a few cold ones & enjoying Susie's amply bosomed company when I made the mistake of commenting on the bar's decor. The Bartender, being very sensitive about his decorating choices promptly had the bouncer courteously escort me to the exit.

What can I say? Puce-on-grey polka-dotted window treatments? EWWWW!

Anyway, I wound up driving around for a while, and my meanderings took me past the Memphis Zoo. It was probably about 2am, but, surprisingly, there was someone hanging out by the front gate. I slowed down to rubberneck, and damned if it wasn't Evil Glenn himself. I parked the car and went to investigate...

Harv: Hey, Evil Glen. Whatcha doin'?

Evil Glenn: GAH! Don't sneak up on me like that!

Harv: Sneak up? My muffler's been missing for a week and my brakes are strictly metal-on-metal. Between the roar and the squeal, I make the Battle of Baghdad sound like 4'33". How the HELL could you not hear me pull up?

Evil Glenn: I was busy concentrating on fine-tuning my evil scheme.

Harv: Well, I've never heard self-pleasuring referred to by that particular euphemism, but I'm sorry I interrupted.

Evil Glenn: Don't worry about it. I'll finish off with the Hillurkey later. Right now, I'll stick to showing you my latest nefarious undertaking. Follow me.

Harv: Check your Rolex, Robot-Dancer. It's 2am. The zoo's closed.

Evil Glenn: If it were actually a zoo, you'd be correct. But it's not.

Harv: Hmmm... 20-foot-tall sign with the word "ZOO" on it. Am I missing something?

Evil Glenn: I own it.

Harv: But you couldn't even afford to keep your girlfriend in cheeseburgers! How could you afford a zoo?

Evil Glenn: Let's just say I had a "persuasive discussion" with the Mayor of Memphis.

Harv: Huh?

Evil Glenn: The man had certain "things" in his past that his wife didn't know about.

Harv: I'm not following you.

Evil Glenn: I BLACKMAILED HIM WITH GAY SEX PICTURES! My God, man! How freakin' dense are you?

Harv: Somewhere between neutron star and black hole. So what's this nefarious undertaking?

Evil Glenn: Follow me.

Harv: Check your Rolex, Robot Dancer. It's...

Evil Glenn: Don't f*** with me, Currency Freak!

Harv: All right! All right! Sheesh! What a crabby-ass bitch...

I followed Evil Glenn into the zoo, and we soon arrived at the main office. As we entered, he turned on the lights, and I was confronted with the most horrifying sight of my existence.


Everywhere I looked. Posters.

Movie posters. With titles and pictures of their stars:




EDGAR ELEPHANT in WRINKLY WINKY (introducing Ron Jeremy as "the mahout")




Harv: that really Michael Moore?

Evil Glenn: Actually, we used a body double for that one, but it's almost impossible to tell the difference.

Harv: So you've converted the Memphis Zoo into your own little playground of unnatural perversion?

Evil Glenn: Everybody needs a hobby.

Harv: You filthy, disgusting, psychotic bastard! The Alliance shall hear of this!

Evil Glenn: Whatever. Hey, you should stick around. I'm about to start filming "Hoppin' & Humpin' 2: Marsupials in Mutton"

Harv [heading for the exit]: Leaving now.

Evil Glenn: Some people just don't appreciate fine art. Now... where did I put Wicked Wooly Wanda's stunt double?... Ah! There it is!... Hmmm...[looking around at the now empty room]... might as well finish fine-tuning the evil scheme... oh yeah!

Glenn has really gone off the deep end this time, turning the Memphis Zoo into a Neverland Ranch of beastiality in a perverse attempt to slake his revolting appetites. It's a sight no human eye should have to behold.

But knowing the filthy lie truth, I can't help but wonder...

Was Evil Glenn also responsible for HILLARY CLINTON in BUFFIN' THE MUFFIN'?


posted by Harvey at 10:28:18 PM  permalink    Crappy Broken Radio Comments (do not use) [] trackback []  HOME

  Thursday, January 01, 2004


In  accordance with the latest Alliance assigment, I endeavored to discover how Evil Glenn would be ringing in the new year. I expected something evil & decadent, like a puppy-blending party, or maybe noise-makers made out of hobo bones. I figured the easiest way to get the answer would be to hack into his computer to see if he'd written anything down.

Oddly, there was nothing there but a file called "Resolutions". Apparently he's worked up his own version of the top 10 resolutions list:

1) Spend more time with family & friends - I've been too reclusive lately. Time to mix & be sociable. I must invite them over more often. One by one. Buy new shovel and more lime. Bury them deeper than that time in Vegas.

2) Fit in fitness - I keep getting winded when hobo-whackin'. From now on, 20 minutes a day of sledge-swinging. No excuses. Be like Scratchy.

3) Tame the bulge - Beagles & pugs go straight to my hips. Blend more whippets & greyhounds.

4) Quit smoking - Those cancer sticks are going to be the death of me. Switch to nicorette during that post-penguin-coital glow-time.

5) Enjoy life more - Less blogging, more Robot Dancing. Possibly while naked.

6) Quit drinking - I have a drinking problem. I admit it. Last week's Black Mass was the final straw. I messed up the chant and conjured up Hillary Clinton instead of Satan.. She's STILL pissed that I interrupted her girl's night out.

7) Get out of debt - The iMAO doll was a complete bust. My bank account won't be recovering from that debacle anytime soon. From now on, I'll only sell popular toys.

8) Learn something new - I swear that I WILL learn how to parallel park.

9) Help others - I promise to help more hobos by slaughtering them and releasing their tortured souls.

10) Get organized - My office is a mess. I just need to install some quality shelving. This will also be a big help on #9.

I may have had Glenn figured all wrong. I mean, if he's that into self-improvement, maybe he's not such a bad guy after all.


posted by Harvey at 8:36:29 PM  permalink    Crappy Broken Radio Comments (do not use) [] trackback []  HOME

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