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  Wednesday, August 06, 2003


Here, in it's entirety, is my non-existant-silver-medal winning entry to Frank's Permalink Contest

I replaced the white space that Frank removed from the my original entry and took the liberty of correcting a typo that was probably the real reason I didn't win. Free gratuitous link to the first person who can spot it:



They struck during the night. There was no warning. By morning, they had swarmed the U.S. and resistance was crippled. One fought bravely against them, trying to end the menace. Finally, though, the sword broke, the Colt 1991 locked on an empty clip, and the mighty Frank J. fell. He died as they always thought he would: clawed and bitten by thousands of monkeys.
Now the monkeys, in conjunctions with the hippies and the Communists, have taken control. The hippies dictate government policy, the Communists crack down on freedom, and the monkeys... well the monkeys just cause havoc. They race sports cars through school zones and rob liquor stores all day long. It's all over, it seems, for the human race, but there is one hope left: you.
You lead a ragtag group of rebels in possession of a few small arms. In 200 words or less, how do you plot and bring about the downfall of the monkey, hippy, Commie power structure?


"There's only one way to stop them. We'll create a super-virus, mixing DNA from Frank, Rumsfeld, and Ebola."


"You can't do that," said a suspiciously odiferous cabal-member, "what about the unknown environmental consequences?"


*SHLORP*- I ripped the heart from his chest, holding it in front of his eyes as it spurted patchouli. "Shut up, hippy spy."


"URK!" said the hippy.


"But won't this require a new government program to pay for treating all the infected working poor?" said an elderly, rotund, gin-blossomed man (whom I'd been eyeing suspiciously).


"Die, Commie!"






“BLAM!” added my Frank J Memorial 1991 decisively, ending the argument.


“Anyway, we’ll use the labs at ImClone to put this together.”


“How will we make it in? We’re nearly out of ammo.”


“Don’t worry. I’ve got inside connections. My mother-in-law is Martha Stewart. At least I think she is. Last time she visited, she alphabetized my silverware.”


“Alphabetized your…?”


“Don’t ask.”


“Anyway, enough chatter. Let’s roll.”


The virus worked as planned. Hippies and Commies died of strangulation-like symptoms, while monkeys everywhere bled to death out of their eyes.


… but somewhere in a dark cave… a voice… ”This round is yours, but I’ll be back.” *sip* “mmm… blended puppy.”


posted by Harvey at 8:03:21 PM  permalink    Crappy Broken Radio Comments (do not use) [] trackback []  HOME

  Friday, August 01, 2003



I won my division in Frank's permalink constest.


[insert rhythmless white-boy happy-dance here]


I got lucky & found my muse on that entry. My first thoughts had been about soap & hard work as hippie repellants - glad I didn't go that way. While lying awake that night, though, I started started thinking about how angry hippies make me feel, and once I got the Popeye angle, the rest came pretty easy. The hard part was keeping it under 200 words. I had to shave it down from 217, but I think it came out better for the effort.


The question was: You are on your way somewhere, but a group of hippies incoherently protesting something blocks your way. In 200 words or less, what is the best way to handle this situation?




 I actually encountered this situation once. All I wanted to do was cross the street, but the road was jammed with retarded lefties blathering gibberish like, “Free Mumia For Oil”, “No Blood For Peace”, and “Bush Lied, Babies Died, I’ll Have Tofu On The Side”, or something like that.


I suppressed my rage until I saw the “Bush = Puppy Blender” sign, then something inside me snapped. “That’s all I can stands, I can’t stands no more!” I cried, reaching over to a nearby organic foods vending cart, grabbing a handful of spinach, and shoving it down my throat.


Somewhere nearby, a Phish-smelling band inexplicably started playing a modified hornpipe, as animated battleship tattoos magically appeared on my biceps and started firing live shells into the fetid assembly. I waded through the crowd, my bulgy forearms windmilling madly as the Phish-smellers segued into a quick-tempo Yankee Doodle. Filthy hippies flew in all directions, landing in comical pretzel-piles, with their stupid-slogan signs jammed in previously functional orifices.


Covered in patchouli-befouled blood, I reached the other side and burst into song:


“I’m strong to the finish

(here’s a buck for your spinach)

Don’t F*** with the sailor man!”





A big thanks to all who voted, and an honorable mention to Mark for referencing insulting Frank's grammar as a one-way ticket to an early grave. I would've picked that one in the absense of self-interest.


The final round starts Monday, and it's gonna be a lot tougher. I'll have to leave a wake-up call for my muse.


posted by Harvey at 8:30:07 PM  permalink    Crappy Broken Radio Comments (do not use) [] trackback []  HOME

  Monday, July 28, 2003


Group D's responses are up, and the Group E question has been posted:


Everyone knows my solution to random ninja attacks. In 200 words or less, describe your own solution. Remember, while people hate getting randomly attacked by ninjas, they also hate high taxes, so try and keep your solutions cheap.


The only thing more powerful than a ninja’s stealth attack is a Frenchman’s annoying cowardice. Since the French lost all their land to Uganda during the bombing of Paris, we might as well bring them here to protect us from Ninjas. I envision the following scenario:


Ninja: Soon I will randomly attack an innocent American…


Frenchman: Bonjour, monsieur Ninja.


Ninja: Gah! Don’t sneak up on me like that!


Frenchman: Pardon moi, but I sense that you are superior to me. Please accept my surrender.


Ninja: Uh, look buddy, I’m kinda busy randomly targeting Americans right now. Can you come back a little later, maybe?


Frenchman: Non! I am cowardly and must surrender immediately!


Ninja: No, seriously, I’ve got this evil plan to carry out, and… *sniff*… DAMN! Is that smell coming from you?


Frenchman: Oui! It is part of our national odor! I am most proud of it! But I would be even more proud to be your prisoner.


Ninja: No! Go away!


Frenchman: But I give up!


Ninja: Leave me alone!


Frenchman: At least call me a coward.


Ninja: SHUT!… UP!


Frenchman: I look most handsome in prisoner’s garb.


Ninja: AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH**GAAK** (impales self on sword in despair).


posted by Harvey at 9:50:17 PM  permalink    Crappy Broken Radio Comments (do not use) [] trackback []  HOME

  Friday, July 25, 2003


The group C answers are up at Frank's place, as well as the group D question. My prediction is that the ultimate winner is going to come from group C. There's some solid comedic talent in that bunch.

Anyway, the Group D question:

"In 200 words or less, describe the best way to kill a Communist."



posted by Harvey at 6:46:49 AM  permalink    Crappy Broken Radio Comments (do not use) [] trackback []  HOME

  Tuesday, July 22, 2003



Ah, the group C question is up:


“In 200 words or less, name your least favorite species of monkey and explain why you dislike that monkey.”


I’m a staunch individualist, and consider it morally wrong to judge an entire species by the acts of a single monkey.


But I hate every damn gorilla on the face of the earth.


I once went to the zoo with a fine lady with whom I had not yet been “intimate”. All was going well until we hit the monkey house. While standing in front of the gorilla cage, one of the females waved her hairy red ass in the male’s face, which offer he naturally accepted.


For all of ten seconds.


Normally not a big deal, I suppose, except that, since my best scoring-line is “how about some hot monkey love?”, his exhibition of Frenchman-like staying power pretty much put the old (FLUSH)*gurgle* on my romantic prospects.


I will not forgive. I will not forget. Gorillas must die.


posted by Harvey at 10:53:41 PM  permalink    Crappy Broken Radio Comments (do not use) [] trackback []  HOME

  Monday, July 21, 2003


I'm still waiting for my turn to come around on Frank's contest, so I thought I'd take a whack at the group B question to pass the time:

In 200 words or less, describe how bombing Paris will help Uganda's economy.

All France has going for it is it's lush, fertile wine fields. The only problem is that French wine, while good, is also annoying and cowardly as a result of being too near the French. My theory is that, if you bomb Paris just right (perhaps enlisting those devilishly clever boys at MIT for technical assistance), you can create an explosion that will peel up the wine country in one huge carpet and have it KER-FLUMPF into place in Uganda. Without the French influence, the grapes will grow brave and tasty, catapulting Uganda into wine-soaked prosperity. 


posted by Harvey at 9:29:54 PM  permalink    Crappy Broken Radio Comments (do not use) [] trackback []  HOME

  Thursday, July 17, 2003


Frank has set the group A flaming hoop alight, but I'm in group F, so I can relax for a while.

But I did actually think of what could be Aquaman's shining moment:

The leaders of Iran, North Korea, and France are all trapped in a burning building. Aquaman races inside to save them. Since his powers are limited to breathing underwater and talking to marine life, all of them would die.

Therefore, in this situation, Aquaman would be a great superhero.


posted by Harvey at 9:46:27 PM  permalink    Crappy Broken Radio Comments (do not use) [] trackback []  HOME

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