July 30, 2004
Charming Alliance HQ Hostess Susie came home from another miserable 13 hour shift at the Dollar Theater ("Now With 19th Century Technology!") drained and exhausted. After pouring herself a shot of "Scantily Clad Fireman" brand whiskey ("Starting the Fire in Your Belly since 1898"), she snapped off her bra and checked her e-mail.
Susie: Let's see... 293 comment spams, 78 offers for Viagra, 57 propositions from Nigerians, 39 new applicants for the Alliance... [click, click, click...]... all of which are missing either a fake Glenn Reynolds quote or a link to HQ... Screw this! I'm going to my Happy Place.
... Susie got up and went to her special room wherein was located the one thing that gave her solace in times of trouble - her Barbie collection. Since she was a little girl, she'd always adored her Barbies, and sought to acquire one of everything. Yet one item had always eluded her, and she gazed sadly at the empty space on her shelf where she hoped that item would someday go.
Susie: Barbie's Dream House... if only I could get one, I just know it would make my life complete. I would give ANYTHING to own Barbie's Dream House!
... The room darkened ominously, as a cloud of black, sulfurous smoke formed in the middle of the Barbie room. An imposing figure dressed in red became visible as the smoke began to dissipate.
Susie: Oh no! I've summoned Satan! He's going to offer me Barbie's Dream House in exchange for my soul! Which wouldn't be so bad if I weren't currently braless and... quite perky.
... The smoke cleared, and the man in red let out an evil laugh...
Man in Red: Ho! Ho! Ho!
Susie:... Santa???...
Santa: You were expecting someone else?
Susie: Satan, actually.
Santa: Ya know, ever since John made that typo in the Book of Revelations, people have been getting us confused. Let me set you straight - *I* give you goodies in exchange for your soul, Satan makes bad things happen to good people.
Susie: So Satan hired my Assistant Manager?
Santa: Exactly.
Susie: How did you know I was ready to trade my soul? Is that part of the whole "sees you when you're sleeping, he knows when you're awake, he knows if you've been bad or good" schtick?
Santa: Sorry, lady, you've got me confused with John Ashcroft. No, Glenn Reynolds saw on your blog that you wanted Barbie's Dream House, so he sent me to make a deal.
Susie: You're Evil Glenn's sidekick???
Santa: The title is "executive assistant".
Susie: Er... yeah... whatever... anyway, I'm kinda confused. Let me see if I got this straight... YOU, and NOT Satan, trade worldy wealth for souls?
Santa: Right. I've got tons of crap just laying around at the Workshop, plus a delivery system so fast it makes FedEx look like George Lucas working on a Star Wars sequel. So I can get souls any time, any place.
Susie: But what do you do with the souls?
Santa: They power my army of robotic toy-making elves.
Susie: I thought you used REAL elves to make toys?
Santa: NOW you're just being silly. Everyone knows the only things Elves are good for is holding endless, indecisive council meetings on what to do about demonic jewelry.
Susie: Sorta like the French?
Santa: Sorta... except the French usually send in Americans to do their dirty work instead of conning naive Hobbits.
Susie: So if you're so good at trading stuff for souls, why did you need to throw in with Evil Glenn?
Santa: Let's just say that Glenn's not the ONLY one with a penguin fetish.
Susie: EWWW! I see... Wait!... Aren't penguins native to the SOUTH pole?
Santa: Now you know why I need Glenn's help. He's got some REALLY good connections at the Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station.
Susie: But I still don't understand why you'd work with Glenn. He's EVIL! He murders hobos!
Santa: Hobos don't have chimneys. What the hell do *I* care?
Susie: What about the blended puppies?
Santa: Again - don't care. I hate puppies! Every year I give out millions of the little bastards. Nasty, yipping little things, always piddling in my sack of presents. Good riddance, *I* say.
Susie: And the Robot Dancing?
Santa: Nothing wrong with a man dancing. Hell, I invented "The Twist"
Susie: That was Chubby Checker.
Santa: *I* was Chubby Checker.
Susie: That's ridiculous. Chubby Checker was black.
Santa: Well, you know how Michael Jackson...
Susie: Ok, you can stop there. Anyway, what's this "deal" Glenn wanted you to make?
Santa: In exchange for the Barbie Dream House, you agree to stop hosting the Alliance HQ page. Without you doing all the heavy lifting, the Alliance will fall apart in a matter of days, and Glenn will once again be free to rule the blogosphere with his velvet-handed tyrannical peacefulness.
Susie: Wait... don't you want my soul, too?
Santa: That? Pfffft! I've had that for decades!
Susie: What?
Santa: Remember this? [whips out digital palm-corder and replays a scene from Susie's childhood]... "I'd give anything for a Malibu Barbie! ANYTHING!"
Susie: Oh... yeah... that.
Santa: I got the Dream House right here... [extracts it from bag]... whaddya say?
Susie: Well, I guess I say... DIE, YOU JOLLY BASTARD!
... with ninja-like speed, Susie swept her bra off the floor and wrapped it tightly around Santa's neck, not letting up the pressure on his chubby throat until he collapsed to the floor in a white-fur-trimmed heap.
Susie [placing Dream House triumphantly onto her shelf]: Now, what to do with the gift-giving prick minion of the puppy blender... AH! I know!
EPILOGUE (one week later):
Good Evening. I'm Dan Rather and this is the CBS evening news. Our top story tonight: Saddam Hussein goes f****** nuts:
Saddam: But I keep telling you, I'm NOT Saddam! I'm Santa Claus! That bitch Susie stole my Barbie Dream house and switched me with the REAL Saddam! I'm Santa Claus! Get me Glenn Reynolds on the phone! That son of a bitch! This is all HIS fault! If I ever get outta here, I'm joining the f****** Alliance! INSTAPUNDO DELENDA EST!
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July 23, 2004
I stopped into Madfish Willie's Cyber Saloon for a cold one after work and was greeted with the Bartender's usual warmth and civility:
Harv: Hey Bartender, how's it goin'?
[WHOOSH! THUNK!]
Harv: Bartender, you seem to have dropped your hatchet. Must've taken a funny bounce, because it landed in the door right next to my head.
Bartender: You miserable son of a bitch! I turned my back for 5 seconds and you threw another f****** comment party! I just got done fixing the place up from the last one! Look at what you did to my bar! There's dried Reddi-Wip everywhere! I haven't seen this much scummy, dried-up crap since I watched Fahrenheit 9/11! Gimme my hatchet back so I can kill you good & proper!
Harv: I can't pay my bar tab if I'm dead.
Bartender: I don't care! I... you... uh... Guinness?
Harv: That would be lovely. Look, I'm sorry about the mess. You were out of town, I was thirsty, Eric hopped the bar, things got out of control. You know how it goes.
Bartender: Why is there Hershey's syrup all over the mechanical bull?
Harv: Long story. Just pour the Guinness and I'll help you clean the place up a little. Got an extra putty knife and some rubber gloves?
Bartender: I'm still going kill you.
Harv: Understood. Meanwhile, I'll get scraping. Why don't you turn on the TV just in case there's an important plot point on or something.
Bartender: Dead man. You're a f****** dead man. [click]
TV: I'm Dan Rather. Tonight we'll be talking about the Blogosphere Streamlinification Act, a proposed law that's been heavily lobbied for by Dark Overlord Glenn Reynolds.
Harv & Bartender: EVIL GLENN!
Harv: Quick! Turn it up!
Bartender: You're pretty bossy for a walking corpse.
Harv: Kill, murder, dead, blah, blah, blah... I get the "I'm pissed off" part, already, now just turn up the damn volume!
Bartender: Hope your life insurance is paid up. [turns up volume]
Rather: In the studio with me tonight is Glenn "Evil" Reynolds, the new law's staunchest proponent. Tell me Mr. Reynolds, what's the Blogosphere Streamlinification Act all about?Evil Glenn: Well, Dan, the BS Act, as we like to call it, addresses one of the most irritating issues now plaguing the internet. Now that over 4 million people have their own blogs, there's just too much information floating around. All those big words and dangerous ideas. It's just too confusing. That's why, under the BS act, no blog will be allowed to have any more than it's fair share of links and hits.
Rather: What do you mean by "fair share"?
Evil Glenn: After exhaustive scientic study of the question, based on an in-depth analysis of several dozen sites that do numerical composite digital morphologic studies, we flipped a coin and chose 10.
Rather: 10 links or 10 hits?
Evil Glenn: [flips coin] Hmmm... landed on edge... both, then.
Rather: But as the top blog in the Ecosystem, won't YOU be paying the highest price?
Evil Glenn: Of course. But I'm only doing my part as a good global citizen. We have to focus more on EQUALITY. Not everyone has the time or talent to build up an overwhelming readership the way I did. My only goal is for everything to be fair. No more will people weep helplessly because their blogs suck. Thanks to the BS Act, now EVERYONE will suck.
Rather: It's about time the blogosphere became more like the mainstream media.
Evil Glenn: Exactly
Rather: Well, Mr. Reynolds, that's about all the time we have for...
Evil Glenn: And the best part about the BS act is that, like all the best government programs, it'll have exceptions, quotas, and set-asides for historically oppressed minorities.
Rather: Women, African-Americans, Hispanics...
Evil Glenn: Nah, those ants already do enough snacking on the potato salad of the American picnic. I'm talking the TRULY oppressed.
Rather: Uh... such... as...?
Evil Glenn: Why, the vast and oppressed American sub-culture of puppy-blending, hobo-killing, Satan-worshipping, commie-praising, Robot-dancing, Frank J.-punching, pengosexual, socks-and-sandals-wearing, vampire lawyers with two n's in their first names. Indeed.
Rather: Ummm... and what do THEY get?
Evil Glenn: Well, in order to make up for past discriminations, the aforementioned group gets a link from EVERY blogger, plus all bloggers are required by this new law to visit their pages daily.
Rather: So in other words, you give up absolutely nothing while screwing over the entire blogosphere?
Evil Glenn: Exac... uh... I mean... Dan, I don't mind that you're questioning me over this accidental and inadvertent aspect of the legislation, but I feel obligated to point out that the timing of your leaked opinion is very suspicious. If I were the mistrustful type, I might wonder if you were just now bringing up this point in order to distract the nation from the fact that, at this very moment, Iraq is a miserable failure, and that, even as we speak, Katie Couric is kneeling under your desk and giving you a bl...
Rather: That's REALLY all the time we have tonight. Everybody call your elected representatives and voice your support for that VERY fair and VERY equitable piece of legislation, the Blogosphere Streamlinification Act. I'm Dan Rather. Good night, and have a pleasant OW! DAMMIT, Katie! Watch those teeth!
Harv: You know what this means...
Bartender: That your crappy blog will finally get 10 visitors in a single day?
Harv: Yes, but that's not important now. What matters is that we've got to stop Evil Glenn from screwing up the blogosphere.
Bartender: Why bother? So what if you won't be able to visit some retarded, illiterate, social reject on LiveJournal blogging about her cat? Who gives a shit?
Harv: Not me. But what about blogs heavily saturated with hard-core pornographic pictures?
Bartender: ...Good point... I'll go get the Drunkmobile. You got a plan?
Harv: [grabbing handle & tugging smartly] No, but I've got a hatchet. Let's head to D.C. and stop this madness.
...Several hours later, in Washington D.C....
Sen. Kennedy: Last item on today's agenda: The Blogosphere Streamlinification Act. Let's just vote for this thing like Mr. Reynolds wants us to so we can get the hell out of here.
Sen. Byrd: First, I think we should thank Mr Reynolds [waves flirtily at Evil Glenn] for providing us all with limosines full of cash and hookers for our enjoyment after the vote is completed and the law passes.
Sen. Kennedy: Fine. Whatever. Thanks Mr. Reynolds, you're a true patriot and a model American... yadda, yadda, yadda. Let's get on with this. I haven't had any gin for several minutes now, and if my blood alcohol level falls below fifty, I'll explode. All in favor of the BS Act, say "aye".
[resounding crash of doors being kicked open at the back of the room]
Harv: Vote no or I'll kill this puppy with my hatchet!
Evil Glenn: You FOOL! All these Senators have been bought and paid for. Besides, they're politicians! What the hell do THEY care if innocent lives are lost as a result of their greed and poorly thought out decisions?
Sen. Byrd: Can we PLEASE just vote before Kennedy explodes?
Harv: Shut up! If anyone votes "aye", I'll chop this puppy clean in half.
Evil Glenn: [to himself] Time to "shoot the hostage"... Gimme that goddamn puppy! Why settle for "chop" when you can have "grate", "puree", and "liquefy"? [pulls out Ronco Port-o-Blend-o-Matic and stuffs puppy into it] WHIRRRRRRRR! YIP! YIP! *gurgle*. Now... All in favor, say "aye".
*crickets*
Evil Glenn: What the F*** is the matter with you people? You OWE me!
Sen. Byrd: Look, Glenn, it's not that we don't appreciate the bribes, but we've got an election coming up. Cash & hooker scandals are GOOD for a campaign - look what they did for the Clintons - but puppy blending? That'll cost us the soccer mom vote, and we can't afford that right now.
Sen. Kennedy: Whatever. I need booze. All opposed?
All 100 Senators In Unison: NAY!
Sen. Kennedy: Bill defeated. Let the record show that nobody supported the evil puppy blender's ridiculous Bagofbeer Stompification Act, or whatever the hell it was called. Nothing but mom & apple pie in THESE Senate chambers.
Sen. Byrd: Can I still keep the cash & hookers?
EPILOGUE: [back at Madfish Willie's]
Harv: That went well.
Bartender: Yup. I guess the blogosphere's safe until the next Alliance assignment. Say, can I have my hatchet back now?
Harv: Huh? Oh, sure. Heh. I must've accidentally stuffed it in my sock. How sloppy of me. Here ya go.
Bartender: Thanks... now I can MURDER YOU DEAD!
Harv: WAIT!
Bartender: [pausing with hatchet poised above head] WHAT?
Harv: I forgot to warn you. The handle on that hatchet is getting a little loose. Be careful, 'cuz the head of that thing could fall off at any moment, and...
[CLONK!]
[Bartender slides to floor, unconscious]
Harv: Bartender? Bartender? [holds mirror under Bartender's nose] Eh. He'll be ok... Wonder what's on TV? [click]
Dan Rather: Oh Katie! Oh Katie! Oh Katie! Oh... CRAP! We're back!... This just in:
INSTAPUNDO DELENDA EST!
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July 16, 2004
Via sources too valuable to reveal in the bright light of linkage (or possibly just the voices inside my head - it's hard to tell some days) I came across this early draft of Evil Glenn's documentary:
-----------
BOWLING FOR CANINE
[voiceover]: For thousands of years, dogs have been referred to as "man's best friend". When someone says "dog" you probably picture something like this:
AWWWW! Ain't he cute?
But there's a darker side of dogdom. Many of these beasts lead secret, nefarious double lives when they think people aren't looking. With some help from my hidden camera, I'll share some of these disturbing discoveries:
Dog engaging in forbidden worship of dark, malevolent forces of evil.
Dog engaging in debauched rock & roll lifestyle.
Blood-thirsty, pillaging, savage warrior.
Oppressive capitalist pig sweatshop owner.
Degenerate sex pervert bent on destroying the institution of marriage with his sexual preference and sissified clothing.
Despotic monarchist torturer of innocent peasants.
Filthy, whoremongering pimp.
Brutal, high-seas plunderer and burner of peaceful villages.
Obviously dogs are a menace to society. Current leash laws are ineffective. Harsher steps must be taken. All dogs must be destroyed.
But not just any method of ending their flea-bitten lives will do. You would think that chopping them in half would work, but a bisected dog will simply attack twice as hard, like some kind of furry, demon-possessed Fantasia broom.
(Artists conception of bisected dog attack)
The destruction must be more thorough. That's why I recommend putting them in a blender.
Once these mangy curs are good and gooey, there still lingers the disposal problem. There are millions of dogs out there, and if we just dumped the remains anywhere, the American landscape would be awash in slime-ridden piles of filth and decay, not unlike Michael Moore's soul.
The only sensible solution is ingestion. If every American drank just one dog, this country would be free of its canine curse overnight.
And it's Atkins-friendly, too!
But I can imagine your first objection already:
How the f*** am I going to cram a 120 pound horse-dog into a tiny little Hamilton Beach 56406 BlendSmart?
Well, the truth is that we don't have to kill EVERY dog in the country to protect ourselves from the mongrel menage. If we just focus on the puppies, soon the entire family canis lupus familiaris will become extinct as the older dogs die out, and the human race will be free at last from their depradations.
And don't forget, rigorous scientific studies have conclusively proven the health benefits of liquefied puppy consumption.
Finally, remember the true face of the enemy
and join me in my quest to save the human race.
----------
Hmmmm... all in all, I think I'd rather watch Gigli.
INSTAPUNDO DELENDA EST!
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July 09, 2004
<----- Begin Profile Questionnaire----->
About Evil Glenn:
Age / Gender - Timeless as the blackness between the stars / male, but you might want to ask again after "the operation"
Country - All/omnipresent
Quick Description - Evil, oppressive, Dark Overlord of the blogosphere. Look upon my works, ye bloggy, and despair MUAHAHAHAHA!
Location - Everywhere and nowhere. I am the universe and I contain multitudes.
Star Sign - You have no word for it in your language.
Sexuality - Pengo
Profession - animal control; freer of vagabond souls
Marital Status - currently bonded to Instawife and certain unspeakable dark forces
Perfect Partner - would not object to my bone collection and would look good in a catsuit
My Interests - exotic, open-toed footwear; 80's dance music
Makes Me Happy - the sweet music of weeping children
Makes Me Sad - hackers artificially inflating their link count for the sake of temporary Ecosystemic dominance; the cacophanous screech of carefree laughter *shudder*
Cigarettes - make the cutest circles when extinguished on hobos
Alcohol - single breed Scotch, such as McSetter's Irish, aged 25 years or more.
Drugs - Superfluous. The sacred texts of Mao's Little Red Book are the only intoxication I need. Besides, crack isn't really a drug.
Bad Habits - occasionally not punching Frank J.
In My Own Words (a general personal statement - anything you want to say) - To the Alliance of Free Blogs, I say this: your feeble struggles are useless. Resistance is futile. Come to my dark embrace. Know the power of the Instalanche, and yearn for the touch of my hyperlink. Join me or die.
Oh, and, "Hi Mom!"
Vital Statistics...
Ethnic Origin - 9th circle of hell. South side.
Hair - multicolored; rather resembles a rainbow clown wig
Eyes - Bloodshot and peering relentlessly into the searchless depths of your soul
Height - Imposing
Waist - Encircled by a belt made out of hobo teeth
Weight - Due to a particularly cagey bit of lawyering, I found a loophole in the law of gravity, so this question doesn't apply.
Body Type - squishy, slimy, scaly, or lumpy, depending on where I am in my molting cycle
Body Hair - Profuse by nature, but under control thanks to hourly testicular electrolysis.
My Favorite...
Food - three decker sauerkraut and toadstool sandwich with arsenic sauce
Music - Beethoven's Ninth Symphony as played by the London Philharmonic Orchestra, featuring Trent Reznor
TV Show - Blue's Clues and The Iron Chef... Viewed simultaneously
Author - Harvey of Bad Example (shhhh!)
Movie - Cold Dog Soup
Night Club / Bar - Blender's
Animal - Penguins... in bikinis
Person - Aleister Crowley
Website - http://www.happytreefriends.com/
Place - In your mom
Thing - Watching inferior bloggers go nuts trying to figure out how to get an Instalanche.
Final Thoughts...
You can choose to answer one (or more) of the following questions:
If I were a millionaire...
If you pay me enough...
In a perfect world...
From now on...
My best day...
My dream date...
My eternal dilemma...
My funniest moment...
My mom always says...
My pet hate...
My worst day...
The meaning of life...
This week's plan... Blog. Blend puppy. Blog. Murder hobo. Blog. Praise Mao. Blog. Robot Dance. Blog. Punch Frank J. Blog. Mate with penguin. Blog. Blog. Blog. Blog. Blog. Blog. Blog. Blog. Blog. Blog. Repeat hourly 168 times.
<----- End Profile Questionnaire----->
Posted by: Harvey at
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July 02, 2004
I was strolling through the park recently when I came across a familiar socks-and-sandals-clad figure doing... something... Curious, I inquired...
Harv: Hey Glenn, whatcha doin'
Evil Glenn: GAH! Don't sneak up on me like that. Don't you ever knock?
Harv: Ok [KNOCK!]
Evil Glenn: Ow! My head!
Harv: Happy now?
Evil Glenn [rubbing rapidly swelling knot on his forehead]: It's a start. Anyway, if you MUST know, I'm setting up my Independence Day fireworks celebration by wiring bricks of C-4 to this helpless family of adorable fuzzy little bunny rabbits.
Harv: That's evil!
Evil Glenn: Lawyer.
Harv: Yeah, but this is beyond lawyer evil. It's practically French.
Evil Glenn: Like defending Saddam Hussein against war crimes charges?
Harv: Exactly
Evil Glenn: Well, I was turned down for that gig because I blend puppies.
Harv: Ah, I see, you were too evil.
Evil Glenn: Not evil enough. Jacques Verges uses an industrial paper shredder.
Harv: No wonder he's defending Saddam. Anyway, I'm going to have to stop you from harming those cute little animals
Evil Glenn: It's ok, I'm making them wear eye protection. The won't be harmed, just exploded.
Harv: Well, as long as you're taking precautions, I guess it's ok. Have fun.
Too bad Glenn's a little fuzzy on the concept of "minimum safe distance", because, when I heard the explosion, I turned around and took a picture. This is what I saw:
(see extended entry for exciting conclusion) more...
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