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IMAO: The Motion Picture

WOW. Frank at IMAO IS a brilliant creative mind, and I've worked with some darn good ones, at least in the ad world. I have a little idea like using Jenna Jameson as the Fox Reporter in Frank's latest opus, In My World: Black Project Insano, and he turns it into an idea for a whole movie. THAT, my friends, is a creative leap. I. Am. Not. Worthy.

Two parts have already been cast, Jenna Jameson as the Fox Reporter, and Frank's choice, Patrick "Puddy" Warburton, as Buck the Marine.

So what about the rest of the film?

President Bush: Owen Wilson
My first thought was Will Farrell from SNL, but some folks in our core target market might be alienated by his portrayal of Dubya as, well, a little bit slow.

Besides, you really need a Texan in the role to get the accent right. Tommy Lee Jones would be great, but he's a bit old, and besides, he was Al Gore's roommate at Harvard. Matthew McConaughey is younger and is Texan, but he puts off a bit too much of a chick-flick vibe.

Owen Wilson is Texan, he has the star power for the role, and most importantly, he has the right blend of action hero (Starsky & Hutch, I Spy) and comic goofiness (Zoolander) to pull off the role perfectly.
Donald Rumsfeld: Robert De Niro
De Niro knows how to play Washington from Wag The Dog, and is the ultimate movie dark killer/quipster, from Taxi Driver to The Godfather Part II to Goodfellas: "You talkin' to ME, Reporter? You talkin' to ME?!?!?!?! RAWWRRRRR!!!"

We considered Jason from the Friday the 13th movies and Robert Englund of "Freddy Krueger" fame, but this role does require speaking. Occasionally.
Condoleeza Rice: Halle Berry
The role calls for a Terminatrix-style character, and who better than the T-X herself, Kristanna Loken? Unfortunately, she's just too darn blonde to pull it off. We also considered Jada Pinkett Smith from the Matrix movies: an actual African-American, kicks butt, and looks darn good in that leather and latex, but we need her to finish the Matrix series.

Halle can play tough, she's seductive as well, and she has the Oscar. No question, really.
Dick Cheney: Earl Hindman
Wilson, from the "Home Improvement" TV show. Who better to play the man whose face you never see anyway?

We also considered Bruce Willis since he does top the list of right-wing celebrities at Right We Are!, but he has a history of getting out of tight spaces, and we can't have that.

Speaking of right-wingers, we considered former Senator Fred Thompson as well: gravitas, certainly right wing, not as ambulatory as Bruce, and sure to get us a good review from Glenn Reynolds, but Frank's low opinion of Glenn as a "a puppy-blending, Satan-worshipping, hobo-murdering, robot-dancing Communist spy" kind of rules that out. Plus, Fred's got a great accent, and it would be a shame to make him change it.

And if we do need to actually show Cheney, then we go to James Gandolfini, since he's pretty much killing time instead of working on The Sopranos like he should be doing, darn it.
Colin Powell: Paul Winfield
Most of you were thinking of James Earl Jones, but Vader-voice has a bit too much presence for the role. In countless movies, including the original Terminator and Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan, Winfield always seems to play the semi-liberal bureaucratic government functionary who seeks to preserve the status quo in defiance of all logic. The status quo falls apart anyway, leaving our heroes to clean up the mess during the rest of the film, while Winfield sputters in grief, then smiles at the end when he realizes that he was wrong to hold back early on and is grateful for the heroes kicking ass (and saving his). Heck, he even played this role as an Ambassador in a Middle East country in the Fred Dryer vehicle (yes, "Hunter" actually made a movie) Death Before Dishonor (one of those Golan/Globus B-level action movies from the mid-80s that always had a nice thing or two to say about the Mossad for some reason).

Besides, Colin Powell is a supporting role, and we probably couldn't get James Earl Jones to come on for that. Better to save him for the "prequel" series of films, such as Gulf War I: The Phantom Victory, when the Powell role will require a more commanding presence.
Laura Bush: Patricia Heaton
I know we'd all like to see a babe, but this role calls for a mom. And Patricia is more than just the most popular mom on TV: she's a Republican, AND a devout Christian. She is Laura!

And since Patricia plays a Long Island housewife on "Raymond", we'll probably get some coverage from Michele as an added bonus.
Ari Fleischer: Keanu Reeves
Has experience with action movies, even more experience playing the "dude", and even worked bald in the first Matrix film. The Wachowski brothers don't really need him for the third Matrix anymore, anyhow, now that computer technology can produce a better Keanu as an actor than the real Keanu.
Tom Daschle: Joe Pesci
If De Niro's playing Rumsfeld, we've gotta get Pesci in here somewhere. Also a good fit with Daschle's loud, stupid voice and general impotence. Remember the Lethal Weapon movies? Pesci would be perfect as Daschle: "They f**k you with the tax cut. Every time I try to do something, they f**k you with the tax cut."

If we need a more menacing presence for the Senate Minority Leader, someone whose very smile "scares small children", I suggest Christopher Walken. He is that kind of scary. Of course, if his politics don't permit him to participate, James Woods can also project that evil when needed to, and his politics are solid. Heck, he was reporting the 9/11 terrorists to the FBI when they were doing their practice runs!
Helen Thomas: Yoda
We can't reproduce Helen Thomas' mix of short, grizzled, gnarly fleshiness in nature, so we're going to have to go to Frank Oz and the boys at Industrial Light and Magic. Something like a Yoda-Jabba The Hutt mix, with Tammy Faye makeup. Maybe E.T., if Spielberg comes down on the price.
Since this is a feature film, we may need to add a few supporting characters to flesh out some of the scenes. This isn't Air Force One or the Hunt for Red October, after all.

Tony Blair: Kenneth Branagh

All we need him to do is reprise his role from Henry V, and we're there.

If Kenny's a bit too much a Labourite for the role, then Ewan McGregor. Impeccable credentials as a Ranger in Black Hawk Down and as a Jedi. Plus, his Trainspotting experience gives him insight into the kind of shady younger days you'd like to forget that should help him bond with the Bush character.
Dictator of Lintuvia: Mike Myers
This role is still ill-defined, so why not get the real Dr. Evil?

I'm sure he'd be happy to help just for comedy tips from Frank. And he'd also good for casting the monkey animal scenes. If they aren't mutant and ill-tempered, they don't make it onto the set.

If Mike doesn't quite scream EEEEEE-vil on screen, then who better to play a dictator on film than an evil film director? We'll be filming in wide-screen letterbox, so Michael Moore is do-able. And if the budget's tight, we just kidnap Oliver Stone for a couple of days. He'll be so whacked out that he won't even remember the shoot, anyway.

By the way, where will we be shooting the Lintuvia scenes, anyway? I say Hawaii (or Haw'aii, Hawai'i, or whatever the PC term is). Still in America, they also shoot Baywatch there, and if you're going to film on location, I say go somewhere nice that doesn't speak that weird froggy language. Plus, Kate would probably be happy to do location scouting for us. We can't sleep on her couch, though, because she just finished spring cleaning and boys would just track dirt all over the place.

If Kate gets too venomous, there's also Australia, stalwart ally, home of the Matrix, land of kangaroos and beer in really large cans. Tim Blair says film companies are ditching Arab countries in favor of the land down under left and right, and we'd be returning the favor our Aussie friends showed us during the war by accelerating the trend.
The dictator-to-be-named-later's cohorts in the combined Axis of Evil Weasels:

Jacques Chirac: Steve Buscemi
Short, usually slicks back his hair, and you instantly know he's scheming about something.

Plus, he was in Fargo, which should guarantee some kind of coverage from Lileks. I mean, the guy devotes a huge chunk of his site to thirty-year-old Midwestern matchbook covers; how could he ignore this?
Dominique "Wilkins" de Villepin: Lambert Wilson
"The Merovingian" from the Matrix sequel. I know, I've argued sometimes that the real French Foreign Minister is actually Agent Smith, but this is the movies, and we need someone who conveys de Villepin's essential French cultural smugness in a nanosecond. Who better than the guy who gave us the immortal line, "Cursing in French is like wiping your a** with silk"?

W at Merde In France can help out with the French bad words.
Osama and Saddam: Zombie extras
Go for realism, I say. "Brains, must feed on brains, we're dead and we have no braaaaaaiiiiins..."
Kim Jong Il: Yoshi Suzuki
The Asian Elvis. Switch out the jumpsuit for a Members Only jacket, get him to make meaningless random threats, and we're there. For added realism, we could picture him always noshing on the national dish of North Korea, bark chimichangas.
We'll also need some extras for the crowd scenes, especially in the press room. I say we go with Heather Graham as Jennifer Eccleston, and Jeri Ryan as Laurie Dhue (they have the same lips), Farrah Fawcett as E.D. Hill (the hair), Jolene Blalock as token Fox brunette Catherine Herridge, exiled somewhere in Canada covering the SARS epidemic, and Anna Nicole Smith as Rita Cosby.

Other backup Fox reporters in the crowd? Charlize Theron, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Kristanna Loken, Cameron Diaz, Pamela Anderson, Tory Mussett (the Matrix "cake girl"), and if that isn't enough, call in the fembots from the Austin Powers movies. If we've got Mike reprising Dr. Evil here, getting the 'bots should be a snap.

Should Fox decide to greenlight the movie, we'd probably be able to use the real anchors and save a boatload of money.

We will need a bit of balance in the "press corps", though, and with the way MSNBC seems to be dumping shrink-wrapped blondes for prettier brunettes ever since the war started, we'll need to find some of our own, perhaps Denise Richards, J-Lo, Gina Gershon, Monica Bellucci, Lucy Liu, and Kelly Hu.

To direct, I'd love to get the Wachowski Brothers, but they have to finish the Matrix series, and I think we all agree that they should not be distracted or disturbed while they finish their myth-making for our generation. Besides, we need a little bit of humor in this, so maybe Ben Stiller is our guy. He seems like he'd probably be a lot of fun to hang out with, and that's important when you're spending months on the set. In between takes, he could tell us jokes about how big an asshat Janeane Garofalo really is.

Of course, if Mike Myers is playing Dr. Evil, then we could just go with him.

We should try to get some blogosphere help on the set, too. Say, Andrew Sullivan for fact-checking and continuity, Mark Steyn for music consulting, Bill Whittle to adapt the two-hour movie into a mass-market paperback (we'll hire Tom Clancy to help him keep it under a thousand pages), and Jay Solo as unit publicist.

Finally, we have to come up with a "code name" for the script and the movie while it's in production, or else some chubby fanboy dude down in Austin will spill the beans before we're done and put the script on the web. All the cool movies, especially the Wachowski brothers' films, have secret names; The Matrix: Reloaded was called "Burly Brawl" on the script and around the set, and "Bound" was referred to during filming as "Jennifer Tilly and Gina Gershon Get It On". If it's good enough for the Wachowskis, it's good enough for us. My suggestion?
"Monkey Love"
Everyone knows how much Frank loathes monkeys, so nobody will ever connect it with IMAO. And the "love" will make people think it's some kind of sappy romance film, not a action-pumping, bullet-ridden epic adventure humor thrill ride like In My World: Black Project Insano will certainly be.

If there are leaks, we change the code name to "SpongeBob Scrappleface". Frank may go a bit crazy at first, but nobody will suspect a thing.

Let's do lunch, babe. I'll have my people call your people.

Kelley suggests Dennis Hopper for the Rummy role. Hopper does look more like the SecDef, and he definitely can play the unhinged menacing presence. Don't count De Niro out because of appearance, though; the man is a pro and knows how to work it. Tough call.

I'm still trying to get my comments feature to play nice with Blog*Spot, so if you have thoughts and suggestions, please feel free to e-mail me or comment on Frank's board.

4th sign of the apocalypse

First comes the Hello Kitty "female personal massager", and now there's a Winnie the Pooh model.

I will not make a tasteless crack about Winnie and the honeypot, I will not make a tasteless crack about Winnie and his honeypot, I will not make a tasteless crack about Winnie and his honeypot, I will not... but then I did. Just too good to pass up. Sorry.

This is why we fight. The glorious dynamism of Western culture and all the unexpected forms it takes. You never hear stories about female "marital aids" patterned after cartoon characters out of, say, Iran or Saudi Arabia, now, do you? Are they forbidden in the Koran alongside barbecue? Come to think of it, you never hear much about cartoons, or sex, or toys, or women, or culture, or dynamism out that part of the world on their own, much less put together. No wonder the Baghdadis were dancing in the streets. Democracy! Whiskey! Sexy!

Someone (OK, me) just reminded me of a great P.J. O'Rourke quote on this from Gulf War 1:
"It's Valentine's Day, time for romance... We've been trying to figure out what Saudi Arabian sex toys would be -- edible veils? Inflatable plastic airline tickets to Europe? But in a country where a man may have as many as four wives, the most popular marital aid is probably ear plugs."
Give War a Chance: Eyewitness Accounts of Mankind's Struggle Against Tyranny, Injustice and Alcohol-Free Beer, 1992

It's my blog and I'll write what I want to

Quit beating around the bush and tell us what you really think, Kate! Personally, I rather enjoy the refreshingly direct cool crisp taste of the bite, but that's just me. Don't like it, then don't read it. All part of what we're fighting for.


From somewhere in the South, Mike writes in to inform us that "In The Heat Of The Night" (Mom's favorite show, go figure) in this post about the superiority of Dallas-based TV detectives, is set in Sparta, Mississippi, not Sparta, Alabama. Sorry, Mike, I am ashamed to call myself a Southerner; I will be turning in my Jeff Foxworthy tapes and Moon Pies at the earliest possible convenience.

But just to make sure the rest of you know that I'm not some sort of Jayson Blair or something, I actually have been to both Alabama AND Mississippi. OK, driven through, on my way to Virginia from Dallas for the holidays. Twice. Mainly because I found that Tennessee, while pretty, is an extremely l o n g state to drive through. And with IMAO's fatwa on Glenn Reynolds, I wanted to stay as far away from Knoxville as I could.

Not too much difference between Alabama and Mississippi along I-20 that I could see, though. Both states have pine trees. Both states have Cracker Barrels. Both states have lots of billboards for casinos. I did like Alabama more; they had a Mercedes factory, while Mississippi had lots of highway patrolmen hiding behind bushes with radar guns. Maybe that's what made me forget; speed traps have a way of giving you tunnel vision.

Prudence pays off

Back to yellow. Thanks for your vigilance!

And now Homeland Security has time to clear up this mess. There are a lot of jokes that end with "...then the terrorists have won", but if we don't have fireworks on the 4th, it doesn't look good for us. You're supposed to be at war, guys; quit being bureaucrats.

IronyFest™ preseason continues

If this keeps up, France may have a fight on its hands if it wants to repeat as world champions. The Dems are showing surprising strength, even from bench-warmers like the Bush-whacked Janet Reno! Janet's drive to the first string began today when she compared the GOP to the Third Reich in vision-impaired Palm Beach:
One part of Reno's speech, which touched upon issues such as classroom sizes, health care and the criminal justice system, seemed to speak directly to Goldfarb. Reno spoke about visiting the Dachau concentration camp in Germany as a child and learning what had happened.

"I went back and asked my adult German friends, 'How could you let that happen?' " Reno said. "They said, 'We just stood by.' "

She looked right into the the audience and told them that's why she was there. She had no intention of just standing by. "And don't you just stand by," Reno said.
First, there's the obvious liberal overkill, equating Medicare, the death penalty, and local school funding to the deliberate extermination of 12 million people (6 million Jews). Stupid, but no different from Indymedia or anything we've heard on the streets of San Francisco, but not All-Star material by itself.

No, for this to qualify, you have to consider the source: Janet Reno, who did what she had to do at Waco, sure, but sending in troops and tanks to burn a religious group's place to the ground is a lot closer to Kristallnacht than any kind of philosophical disagreement over how old people should pay for their medication.

Now, consider the source again, and remember the screams from Calle Ocho in Míamí: "ELIAN! EEEELLLLIIIIANNNN!!!" Based on what horsey-woman said and did in the Elian case, you could easily see her doing the same thing with a Jewish child from Poland back in 1941:
"Well, they might be a bad regime, and we don't support some of the things Chancellor Hitler might be doing, but those are the internal affairs of the German government and the German people, a boy belongs with his dad, even if he is in the SS, and who are we to judge or interfere, anyway, so we had to send in the Delta Force to get him out of his bedroom."
An asshat, sure, but a great dancer, from what we hear, and truly IronyFest™ Prime-Time-Player material. Reno for Veep in '04!

So true, so true...

Darn it, I just like these quiz things. Who needs a shrink or a focus group?

You are The Twins-
You are The Twins, from "The Matrix."
Bad, but with a sexy streak- surprisingly
refreshing. You know what you want, when you
want it.
What Matrix Persona Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
via our linky lady right-wing conspirator friends


Mystery solved; the comments feature was mucking up the system. Sounds like a fun weekend project; hopefully comments will return by Monday.

Yin and yang, you decide

I've been a longtime fan of IMAO's "In My World" columns/fantasies about what's really going on at the White House, and this week's column, "Black Project Insano", is a classic. Made me wonder what the heck Frank is doing as an engineer in real life; he could make a ton of money in Hollywood or as an advertising copywriter.

Anyway, the column has everything you could ask for. Prank calling Chirac. Rumsfeld off his leash. World Domination. Helen Thomas-taunting. The return of Buck the Marine, accompanied by cogent commentary on tax policy.

Best of all, he finally matches the Fox Reporter character's bloodthirstiness with the sexiness we've all come to love from our newsreaders on the Fair and Balanced network:
"Now you're just being mean," Ari said angrily, "and... and... are you wearing a bikini?"

"Producer's idea; these press conferences don't get very good ratings." She then listened to something coming in from her earpiece. "No I'm not going to jump up and down when I ask questions!"
No wonder the column is so brilliant. The yin (the bloodthirsty neocon warmongering I share) and the yang (the beauty of Laurie Dhue and her pals that I adore). The universe is in alignment.

Also brought to mind a possible "actress" to play the character, since, hey, Jenna needs a job and Frank says he's single:

We've been talking about our Fox friends for quite some time right here, of course, so let's review a few of the different memes our Fox friends connect with for you new readers:

OK, you got me, I just wanted to get a picture of Laurie Dhue back up here. So shoot me.

WWF Smackdown in Watertown!

The Évian summit. Bush and Chirac, in the same room at the same time... this is gonna be fun.

The ever-helpful Frank over at IMAO has some great tips for the President as he goes into what must be a very sensitive negotiation. A couple of my favorites:
* Start by working the body. You'll want to start slow, which means a series of punches to his gut.

* Make sure to build up some momentum before smashing his head into the wall. You'll need some good momentum to leave a nice impression in the drywall.

* This isn't boxing; all blows are legal. Some may say it's unsporting to go for the groin, but I say it makes a nice finale after you've thoroughly beaten him through other means.
President Bush will likely be hearing the French National anthem, la Marseillaise, quite a bit the nest couple of days. As Dubya is a righteous Texas cowboy who prefers Spanish as his second language since he can actually use it out on the range, I thought I'd translate it into English for him:
Allons enfants de la Patrie/Arise, children of the fatherland
Le jour de gloire est arrivé!/The day of glory has arrived!
Contre nous de la tyrannie/Against us tyranny's
L'étendard sanglant est levé/Bloody standard is raised
Who knew the French were such big fans of Victor Davis Hanson?
Entendez-vous dans nos campagnes/Listen to the sound in the fields
Mugir ces féroces soldats?/The howling of these ferocious soldiers?
Ils viennent jusque dans vos bras./They are coming into our midst
Égorger vos fils, vos compagnes!/To slit the throats of your sons and consorts!
The jihadis in the Sarcelles 'hood calling for shari'a Islamic law in the Paris suburbs are a few hundred miles away, so you'll have to listen pretty closely when the music stops.
Aux armes citoyens/To arms, citizens!
Formez vos bataillons/Form your battalions
Marchons, marchons.../Let's march, let's march...
Qu'un sang impur/Until their impure blood
Abreuve nos sillons/Fertilizes our fields
Sounds more like Buck the Marine than anything representative of France, its goverment, or 92% of its people. This would be much a more appropriate tune for Président Chirac. And if that doesn't work, maybe they can translate John Lennon's "Imagine".

Buffy the Aussie Cockpit Slayer

Life imitates Monty Python:
Sgt.: Right. Now,self-defence. Tonight I shall be carrying on from where we got to last week when I was showing you how to defend yourselves against anyone who attacks you with armed with a piece of fresh fruit...
Sgt.: What's wrong with fruit? You think you know it all, eh?
Palin: Can't we do something else?
Idle: Like, er, someone who attacks you with a pointed stick?
Sgt.: Pointed stick? Oh, oh, oh. We want to learn how to defend ourselves against pointed sticks, do we? Getting all high and mighty, eh? Fresh fruit not good enough for you eh? Well I'll tell you something my lad. When you're walking home tonight and some great homicidal maniac comes after you with a bunch of loganberries, don't come crying to me! Now, the passion fruit. When your assailant lunges at you with a passion fruit...
I agree with Instapundit's take on this: "You can't hijack a plane anymore, because the passengers won't allow it."

This is why American must now upgrade me on every flight. I'm not just Executive Platinum, I'm now Junior Deputy Sky Marshal Chipstah, and I don't care about the free drinks -- I need that seat because I'm on patrol, protecting you and your beverage cart, Miss Passive-Aggressive Ashleigh Banfield/Chris Jansing Clone!

Blogworld update

As readers of the comments know by now, blog sista Kate does have a sister, who even lives in Texas. But we're told that this sister does not share the Venom Queen's brilliant political philosophy, the sister in question just got got off her meds, and she's 13 years older than I am. Can't win 'em all.

And if anyone outside this competition even cares, Maripat is ahead of Jay. You go, girl.

Vanguard of the proletariat smackdown

Lileks gives us the most succinct indictment of Communism and (by implication) its leftist handmaidens, Socialism, liberalism, and political correctness, that I've seen in a long time:
The execution of the children was the event that established the character of the regime. Yes, yes, regicide was often accompanied by such atrocities, but this was the 20th century. Why, this was the birth of Scientific Socialism. There is nothing so powerful as an idea has time has come!

But just in case it’s not that powerful yet, let’s shoot the little girls.
Brilliant. (hat tip: Instapundit, as if he needs it)

Feedback loop

Regular readers may have noticed the little "yo" links underneath the posts today. These are comments, a way for you to comment about my thing here without having to go to all the difficulty of moving your mouse three inches to the left and clicking my e-mail link. It should be fun, so enjoy, but be nice. OK, semi-nice. OK, at least witty and charming when you rank me out, or I will start spewing venom with little regard for the innocent.

Big thanks to Maripat and Lori for bugging me to do this for at least a month, and even bigger thanks to Jay, who was nice enough to help me make the thing actually work.

Why haven't I been posting today? Enetation said getting up and running would take three minutes. Three minutes, using the same time scale as Gilligan Island's "three hour tour" until it actually worked correctly. Now it's done, so enjoy. I'm going to have a beer.

Never-ending curtain call

Bill Clinton, ticking me off yet again:
I think since people are living much longer ... the 22nd Amendment should probably be modified to say two consecutive terms instead of two terms for a lifetime.
No, two terms isn't enough, is it, and neither is your wife in the Senate, I guess, nor is her possible presidential run; you still want more. I bet Bill even asked Ted Kennedy if he was going to eat all his french fries at that Kennedy Center dinner, too.
The former president said such a change probably wouldn't apply to him but would benefit future generations.
Typical. Just like the man said he wore briefs, but liked boxers. Smoked pot, but didn't inhale. Didn't have sexual relations with "that woman", but the other kind of hummer didn't count. Didn't do anything with that Whitewater investment, but it isn't worth looking at, because he lost money anyway. Didn't fire those travel office people, just got rid of a few Bush people. Etc., etc., etc.
There may come a time when we elect a president at age 45 or 50, and then 20 years later the country comes up against the same kind of problems the president faced before," he said. "People would like to bring that man or woman back but they would have no way to do so.
Don't worry so much. When all external threats to this country have been extinguished and we're entering an economic recovery and we've had over a decade of one party in the White House and we need somebody to stand around, schmooze, and take credit for not really doing anything, we're sure the Secret Service has your number. Don't call us, we'll call you.

Monica's ex-boyfriend also let us in on his personal life:
Because of my upbringing, I had a particular tolerance for it that made it easier for me to survive,
Growing up in Hot Springs when it was controlled by the Mob in the '50s and '60s will do that to a fella.

Boy Wonder also parceled out love tips for those contemplating spontaneous romantic gestures while at the office:
How you're supposed to keep sort of centered in an almost Zen-like state, no matter what the incoming fire is, so that you can do first every day for the eight years... That's the one thing I think is almost impossible to capture for an outsider, just the way it all happens at once.
For somebody who supposedly reviles greed, the ex-President sure does show a lot of it. 8 years of power is enough for any normal man to be happy with, even extraordinary men like Washington, Jefferson, and Reagan. As for you, Bill,
You have sat too long for any good you have been doing. Depart, I say, and let us have done with you. In the name of God, go!
-- Leo Amery, 1940

A river in Egypt near where many of the terrorists grew up

Sure, we're hearing a lot from al-Qaeda lately. Bombings in their home country, not ours, two weeks ago, threats on Norway last week, threats to our water supply this week.

We're on orange alert, but I think the baddies are on the run, and all this is demonstrating how impotent they are now that we're turning over the rocks these bugs have been hiding under. The more we pursue them, the more shrill and silly their threats will become.

The Onion wrote about al-Qaeda turning to telemarketing a while back, which got me to thinking about a few other things that al-Qaeda will be threatening as the noose draws ever tighter:
    Inflitrating America's fast food restaurants so that no drive-thru attendant will speak English, thereby frustrating the Crusaders in their evil drive for world domination and chicken nuggets

    Sending over a crack squad of trained drivers to America to drive really slow in the fast lane, jamming the gears of American commerce

    And then having them always park their cars at malls and office buildings so that they take up two spaces instead of one, reminding us of who's the boss while wasting more fuel searching for an open space, binding our destiny ever-tighter to the will of degenerate ex-Bedouin tribesmen

    And have them install expensive stereos in those cars so they can play them really loud so that everyone feels the bass beat of Snoop Dogg's latest oeuvre, interrupting our planning of conquest while idling at traffic lights

    Begging people to repeatedly link you in order to drive your "influence ranking" higher on some website, tying up the web and making the words of the imperialist Rumsfeld even harder to find

    Getting jobs as bartenders and then ignoring people unless they whip out the cash or (if female) show a little cleavage, teaching the degenerate drunkards and non-burka-wearing hussies a lesson as they wait for their vile alcohol and filthy bacon-topped potato skins

    Sending a squad of elite mutant ninja cyborg pirate commando monkeys to attack the homes of certain engineers in the Greater Melbourne, Florida area (the elite squad, too, not just some ordinary grouping of mutant ninja cyborg pirate commando monkeys)

    Get telephones with numbers that don't show up on Caller ID, call people, and then never leave a message, thereby using the imperialist pig-dogs' own communications systems to sow the seeds of mistrust and righteous indignation

    Buy lots of French wine and cheese at US supermarkets, leading the French to think we like them, thereby encouraging the French to go on p***ing us off without a second thought
Anyway, I'm open to suggestions. This is an orange alert! Be vigilant!

Death before disrespect

Robert Prather sent us this link about political correctness infecting even the Army Rangers, which threatens to turn the tough troopers of "Black Hawk Down" into Norwegians. And regular readers know how far that once-proud nation has slipped: al-Qaeda mistaking you for Denmark, big poopy dogs, brain snatchers stalking the streets at will, and Swedish bullying about the perceived charisma of IKEA wall systems. Just barely better than Canada.

When I first got Robert's mail, I mistakenly thought that he was referring to the TEXAS Rangers. Then I remembered that no matter what happens in the rest of the country, we are on guard against that kind of crap happening here. Also made me think of another reason why I love Dallas:
The star of our city's semi-cheesy one-hour TV detective drama can kick the star of your city's semi-cheesy one-hour TV detective drama's butt.
Los Angeles? Erik Estrada.
Miami? Don Johnson.
San Francisco? Cheech Marin. And Mr. Ex-Melanie Griffith, again.
New York? Dennis Franz.
Atlanta? Andy Griffith.
Las Vegas? David Caruso.
Honolulu? Tom Selleck. (probably packing heat, though, so be careful)
Chicago? Can't even think of a cop, just doctors.
Mayberry? Andy Griffith. (small town, so only a half-hour).
Sparta, MISSISSIPPI? Carroll O'Connor.
Houston? Nobody sets TV shows in Houston, come on.
Dallas? Chuck Norris.
I rest my case.


Merde in France breaks the shocking news: the "de" honorific title in French Foreign Minister Dominique "Wilkins" de Villepin's name is not real, but was simply bought by his family! That's right, Dominique de Villepin and his family are no better than those instant small-town Texas oil millionaires who went around buying up European titles during the '70s oil boom. Next thing you know, we'll find out he's from Paris, Texas!

Since titles and honor don't mean much to Dom to begin with, let's give him another one, a really bad one, to add to his formal title: Dominique "Wilkins" de Villepin de Fort Worth de Sarcelles de Vichy de Cul. Comment dit-on "asshat" en français, anyway?

In other MIF news, W has added me to his very limited blogroll. I am honored, sir! Merci beaucoup! Chouette! Je kiffe un max! Kick a**!


Billboard headline: "Here's the fastest carrot in the world"

In other news of French promotion and self-promotion, we learn that the French do not pay as much attention to the details of media placement as we do in the English-speaking world. (via FootballBatJim)

In other news of French advertising silliness, word comes via the O'Reilly Factor (can't find story linked, but I saw it) last night that France is considering hiring Woody Allen as their spokesperson for an upcoming campaign to lure angry Americans back to France this summer

I can understand why the French selected him. Concepting in a Paris conference room over a glass of wine, Woody Allen would seem to be the perfect marketing vehicle in their minds:
    Along with Madonna, Jerry Lewis, and the Dixie Chicks, he's one of the few Americans the French could even tolerate

    He is well known, so famous that you might say he's, how do you say, infamous, oui? in America, much like that nice Roman Polanski boy

    His diminutive stature is non-threatening to height-challenged Parisians

    His "interesting" sexual history doesn't even raise an eyebrow in Paris, where a history of holding S&M parties complete with hookers rented out for the occasion inside your chambers as a federal judge is merely amusing conversation fodder, not something that would hold you back from being appointed to run a major government agency
It's still a bad idea, even if understandable. Don't they know about Q Scores in France? Q scores are a ratio of how well-known celebrities are and how likeable people find them. Every ad agency here in the States uses them; they're cheap at the price, reliable (50,000 households), and exhaustive (they rank about 3,000 entertainment and sports stars). Woody would be at the bottom. Well-known, yes, but not well-liked.

The French failure is even more basic than that. Ask any American outside Manhattan, and he'll tell you. If you see Woody Allen's face on TV, your mind instantly says, New York. Or Soon Yi, then New York. Cognitive dissonance, tens of millions in media and production down the tubes.

Not that I mind watching the French government fall on its derrière.

Celebrity beat

Mike Tyson has applied for a copywriting job at Hallmark. (via Venom)

Soul sista

Lots of good e-mail about sloshing vodka from happy warrior Kate, but still no word about whether or not she has a single sister on the mainland. Day 3 and counting.

Evolution of a bad idea

Fun family tree of liberalism over at Samizdata, and very useful for educating the asshats. Only thing missing? The Democrats, but, hey, Samizdata is European. Ooooo.

TV Guide

After a tough night of doing my part for the economy, I sat down to do a little channel-surfing on my favorite TV tool, the on-screen program guide:
8-10 PM
SciFi Channel
A troubled jungle guide (Ron Perlman) is recruited to lead rescuers through an isolated Mexican island where survivors of a plane crash are being hunted by mutant baboons.
Mexican mutant baboons... somehow I don't think the words "brooding" or "introspective" ever came up in reviews of this film.

Definitely thought-provoking, though, in the 15 seconds I looked at the on-screen description before clicking. If Mexican mutant baboons are that much of a danger, shouldn't the airline warn you about the danger of mutant baboons during the pre-flight stewardess announcements? They make a point of going over what to do in case of a water landing, even when flying from Dallas to Las Vegas, where a water landing would require going more than a thousand miles off course.

Perhaps the mutant baboon coverup is an airline conspiracy. The airlines aren't doing well at all these days, and maybe they're just trying to avoid scaring Frank.

Back to trying to make the comments thing for the blog work, then another TV break around bedtime:
Cinemax East
A radio talk-show host encourages callers to describe their erotic experiences.
This should be interesting... people talking about sex, in their own words. Might be good for a laugh, sort of like that Oxygen show with the 70-year-old Canadian Dr. Ruth who looks like the polar opposite of sex, if such a thing existed. And "best sex ever"? Not normally into watching this kind of thing, but that's a tall claim worth investigating, and I will make that sacrifice for my readers if I have to.

Disappointment. Not a whole lot of talking, just a whole lot of people actually having sex. And "best sex ever"? Only if your definition of "best sex ever" involves highly contrived situations with slightly-used b-movie rejects from the Valley whose range of emotional expression almost matches those found in sleepy iguanas.

How good a governor was George W. Bush? I moved to Texas in 1999, when Primal Force was released, and W was guv'nah, and I never have had a moment's worry about the mutant baboon threat lurking on our doorstep. Al-Qaeda, Mexican mutant baboons, all in a day's work for W.



Canada Tourism/Tourisme Canada comes up with a very novel approach to attracting tourists in the wake of the SARS epidemic. Extreme times, extreme measures, I guess. I can see the ad copy now:
Better scenery and sushi than Amsterdam
Better skiing than Jamaica
And getting hash browns at Tim Horton's will take on a whole new meaning.

Shooting the messenger
Our friends in the Protest™ movement are starting to come out from that rock they crawled under when we started finding Saddam's mass graves and Iraqi citizens started welcoming our troops with open arms, flowers, and dancing in the streets. Since they can't retroactively stop the war, they're now going after the folks who brought them the bad news that America was won and was right, Fox News.

Adweek reports that is targeting News Corporation ahead of the FCC's decision on media ownership and its DIRECTV purchase:
On June 2nd, the Republicans on the FCC plan to get rid of an important regulation so that Rupert Murdoch can buy more TV stations, radio stations and newspapers, giving him control over much of the news you hear.
Funny how we never heard anything three years ago when megalomaniac/potential Bond Villain/Jane Fonda's ex-husband/Christian-mocker/extreme liberal Ted Turner was part of a much more sinister plot.

Of course people on the left will fight to the death for your freedom to speak your mind... as long as you agree with every word they say. Asshats.

Account action, hot account action, steamy, throbbing accounts in review

Crispin Porter Bogusky just won the Pony shoes account. Sounds like a good move:
-- Crispin is doing some great stuff (Mini, IKEA, Virgin, FX, etc.)
-- I thought thought about Pony or seen anyone wearing their shoes since the late '70s
-- Renowned "actress" Jenna Jameson has been their spokesperson for at least a year and I never heard about it?!?!?!
Not that there's anything wrong with hiring porn stars as spokespeople; unlike the left, I actually believe in the marketplace of ideas, and I would have fought to have been on the shoot if I were at the previous agency.

But the previous agency's work with Jenna is just bad. Crude, prurient, and without an ounce of creativity or real humor. Heck, I'm a planner and I do sexual innuendo better on this blog. I've marketed to 18-24s, and I understand the need to reposition Pony as "young, edgy, and dangerous in a rules-breaking way", but this work feels more like a disgruntled agency team trying to see what they could get past the client than any kind of serious or (or even playful) brand-building.

The campaign is worse than tasteless: it's lazy, and it's lame. Crispin should have an easy time doing better.

Zoom, zoom, zoom

And since I'm in an ad-blogging mood today, I just would like to note that Crispin is doing the best car advertsing in the country today, for the Mini. Brilliant stuff.

Deutsch/LA's work for Mitsubishi comes in second. Sure, you might say, just music, cars, and a line or two, but compelling, right for the target, and draws you into their message and the brand strategy completely without you ever thinking that you're being marketed to. Susceptibility must precede response.

Hummer's ads? They're selling a lot of H2s (10 year wait for a model mortals could afford), and the ads are OK, but I expected a bit more. The brand has such powerful and fun associations in people's minds, and the creative team at their new agency is the same group of folks who gave you all those wonderful VW ads in the late '90s.

But then, I'm biased.

The not-so-friendly skies

More news on past clients today: Delta Air Lines is switching agencies for the third time in six years. Sad that it happened to a lot of good people at Burnett, who've been through this before. Kirshenbaum (smart guys) picks up Song, and Brighthouse will pick up branding. Delta to Chiat/Day in 6 months, you heard it here first.

Physician, heal thyself

A bit of my own branding, or at least, a button/bug logo for the site:
Download it! Post it on your site! Save it! Collect it! Trade it with your friends! Lots of people liked the gun idea (blowing things up is always fun), but the design was just a bit too complicated. Simplicity is power, especially in small spaces. Thanks to everyone who wrote in with an opinion, even if I seem to have ignored it. Hey, it's my blog, my decision, and I get to be the client for once here.


Mom was right; no matter that I played football in high school, wear tons of black, know all the good sushi places in Dallas, and am familiar with the opposite sex, I am a closet geek. Even Lileks (Lileks! who raves about Star Trek, his Mac, and obsesses about ugly 1960s Midwestern pop culture) is dissing The Matrix: Reloaded, while I still think it's brilliant.

AND I scored a 24.26036% on this geek test, enough to qualify me as a geek (but at least not a total or extreme geek, thankfully).

I found out about the test via Kelley at Suburban Blight, where she blogs from somewhere up 400 in the leafy 'burbs of Atlanta.

I live in Dallas and I've lived in Atlanta, and there isn't much difference between the two cities. A constantly traffic-clogged ring road around the places, Southern boosterism run wild, lots of northern suburbs, and a city close to the west with a bit of a redneck reputation that hates being lumped in with its bigger, more urbane sister.

You can even switch neighborhoods: Park Cities = Buckhead, Lakewood = Virginia Highlands, Alpharetta = Plano, Tollway = 400.

The differences are minor: Atlanta has hills, trees and humidity, while Dallas has flat prairie and breast implants.

Economic stimulus

Forget the tax cut, forget the free drugs (including crack) for seniors plan or whatever ill-conceived but overly-focus-grouped class-warfare appeal the Dems are hawking this week.

If you want to save the economy, get rid of your state quarters right this second.

Waking up and smelling the coffee

A bit late, but self-awareness is always good in the long run. Peter Arnett was unavailable for comment.

Linky love

As I said yesterday, Kate is venomous, caustic, happy fun. And today, we learn she's extremely classy as well.

I'm just grateful she wrote before the vodka started kicking in.

And still no word if she has an unattached sister back on the mainland.

Linky loopiness

Once again, non-bloggers should just ignore this and move on. Maripat, Maripat, Maripat, Maripat. Jay, Jay, Jay, Jay. More for Maripat because she's been linking and helping for a lot longer.


An unexpected pleasure of writing a web journal is seeing where the people who visit you are coming from. If you clicked on a link on a web page, that is. Don't worry: I don't know who any of you are unless you write me, create a link on another site, or sign the guest map. And if you typed my address or used a bookmark to get here, I have no way of knowing if you were perusing porn (via Kelley), reading Star Trek fan fiction, comparing viagra prices, following a Houston-area sports franchise, or anything else that others might find weird and/or unseemly.

Some of the Google searches people have made and found my blog with are what you might expect if you've been reading this for a while:
Laurie Dhue
Laurie Dhue nude
Texas Democrats Beverly Hillbillies
Laurie Dhue hottie
Kiran Chetry nude
Jennifer Eccleston nude
Dominique de Villepin's image
Bianca Solorzano nude
Natalie Morales MSNBC butt
Sexual harassment knee-high boots
Chris Jansing legs
Juliet Huddy nude
Tatu nude
Roy Williams Carolina basketball
Some search terms baffle me:
Alexander Haig photo
Laurie Dhue feminist
Others border on scary:
Hitler Eva Braun suicide pictures
healthy female genitalia pictures
... and some have no basis in reality:
Dominique Villepin suave
Dominique Villepin smart
Dominique Villepin sexy
These last three searches come on an almost daily basis from Google's French site,, which suggests that the French Foreign Minister has a lot of time on his hands now that the war is over and his poetry book has hit the stores.

The greatest number of hits, though, has been related to the French "Merovingian" character in the recent Matrix sequel. Some people are looking for the recipe to the Merovingian's delicious-looking cake, so delicious that it makes Meg Ryan's sandwich scene from When Harry Met Sally look chaste.

Most of my Matrix hits have come from people looking for the text of the cursing/swearing dialogue in French from the movie, which I found at Glazblog:
I have sampled every language, but french is my favorite. Fantastic language, especially to curse with: nom de dieu de putain de bordel de merde de saloperie de connard d'enculé de ta mère. It's like wiping your ass with silk.
So there you go, Googlers. "Wiping with silk"... a potential all-time classic movie quote. And a very foul stream of French, so vile that W of Merde In France says, "Whoah! I thought I was somewhere at Strasbourg Saint-Denis in the red light district or something. I wish I'd have written that!"

You may be asking yourself (as I did in the theater), what does this stream of very foul French mean? Literally, the words translate as
In the name of G*d of a whore of a whorehouse of s**t of a b**ch of a c*** of a cornholed of your mother.
While technically correct, it just didn't sound right, sort of like the scene in the 1985 movie Gotcha! where a young (pre-Goose, even) Anthony Edwards tells a Paris waiter to go to hell by using the French he learned in school:
Mon crayon est grand et jaune!
My pencil is big and yellow!
The crack cultural insult translation team at Merde In France was kind enough to help out, and we came up with this translation of what it would mean if you were swearing in English:
G** damn it, what a mother****ing f***ked-up bitch of a s***ty mess, you mother****ing wanker, and yo' mama, too.
Thanks, W. Any errors in the cultural translation are mine.

The greatest unexpected pleasure, though, comes from the folks who've helped me and linked to me when I was just a li'l puppy in the blog pound. People like W, Maripat, Geoffrey, and Kate. Still amazed that anyone at all reads this, and very thankful.

And hopefully that will clear the karmic air after having tossing around "motherf*****" so many times in one post. The language, the cigarettes... I am becoming an upscale Texas version of Denis Leary, which would seem to violate the laws of nature.

Thank you

Thanks to all of you who've written over the last few days. Especially for all the kind words about Friday's post about my mother. She touched so many lives, and it was nice to hear that the remembrance even touched some of you who'd never met her.

Thanks go out as well to those of you who have signed my guest map and/or written in to comment about the ad buttons. Even more thanks to the bloggers who link me, especially the frequent ones, whether they live in Paris, Hawaii, Boston, or Colorado.

And a special thank you to Kate over at Electric Venom, for the linkage, the correspondence, and the insight on the relationship between flattery and linkage. The more and more I read about her, the more intrigued I become. Caustic! Funny! Nicotine-addicted! Knows her vodka! Smart! Curses! Pretty! Happily rude! Resorts to intelligent innuendo quite often in her posts! Right-wing conspiracist! Lives on the beach! Writes in her blog that she has a great pair of breasts! Democracy! Whiskey! Sexy!

Sounds almost like the perfect woman from my point of view, but I think I'd better stick to pondering if she has an unmarried sister back on the mainland. Not only does she say she hates it when men mistake her being nice as an invitation for a come-on, but she also has a gun. And, why, yes, she does know how to use it. And she is married. And he is in the Army. And scariest of all, she used to be a lawyer.

Ahhhh... back to normal now.

Poetry corner

Definitely back. Lewd remarks? Check, see above. France-bashing? See here. And, as an added bonus, not just media criticism, but poetry criticism! NOW how much would you pay?

OK, there's nothing wrong with writing poetry per se, even if it does give off a slight Columbine-goth-loner vibe. No, what gets me riled is when people act pretentious about it. Especially if they're French. And extra-special-with-a-cherry-on-top especially if they're French Foreign Minister and Agent Smith clone Dominique "Wilkins" de Villepin.

Dom has just published his fourth book of poetry, Tribute to the Fire Eaters. I'm sure this has some cosmic cultural meaning in French, but it makes me think of circus freaks. Quite appropriate, actually. Here's a sample:
(My book) listens to the seed of the terrible voice which cleaves our consciences and feeds our imagination. It affirms its confidence in words, which force open the doors of mystery and give it movement and brightness.
Diminished conscience, terrible voice, impenetrably vague... yep, that's de Villepin, all right.
De Villepin cites as his ideal hero-poet Arthur Rimbaud - the patron saint of misunderstood adolescents in bed-sits around the world. His potted biography gives the general flavour - drugs, drink, doomed homosexual passion, gun-running in Africa, early death from syphilis. Villepin also names Franois Villon, mediaeval murderer on the run. And speaks highly of Gerard de Nerval, the proto-Surrealist and founder member of the Club des Hachichins, who hanged himself from a windowgrating in drug-addled despair at the condition of the world.
Heroes? Heck, these guys could be members of Chirac's Cabinet! Exactly how many hookers did French FCC Commissioner Dominique Baudis invite to that party? And why weren't we (or at least our French friends at Merde In France) invited?
Villepin also admires the certified madman Antonin Artaud, whose late work, characterised by delusions, hallucinations, glossolalia and violent anti-American tantrums, has been described as "a heretic's scatalogical tirade at the extreme of the linguistic lunatic fringe".
Definitely de Villepin.
They were not mad, but prophets. They saw what others did not see, their cries were luminous.
At least until the nurse came by with the Thorazine. Hopefully W will bring along a few months' worth of doses as a gift for Monsieur at the Evian Summit.
If there is no indignation behind the State, it doesn't work.
Spoken like a true Socialist... or a Democrat. There is a Socialist Party in France, but the scary thing is, neither de Villepin or Chirac belong to it.

As a means of explaining de Villepin and French foreign policy to le monde, the book sounds pretty good. But at 800 pages, it might be a little bit too long for those of us not working on a doctoral dissertation or in Bill Whittle mode to sift through. So I've taken the liberty of condensing the book into a poem, a haiku to be precise:
Pretentious asshat
Enough with the delusions
Humanity's zit
17 syllables. Count 'em.

European Idol

In other news involving Russians and "marital aids", Tatu lost the contest to a Turkish singer, which led to my favorite headline of the week:
Turkey licks Tatu in Eurovision
No word yet on how this will affect the duo's plans to wed and move into a brothel.

Norway did not escape the Abba-sounding Eurovision contest unscathed. Already suffering from brain snatching. mutating crapping dogs and being mistaken for Denmark by al-Qaeda, the blond land of weirdness is now in a diplomatic flap with Sweden after the Norwegian commentator, possibly channelling Simon Cowell, referred to the Swedish group Fame as "less charismatic than an IKEA bookcase."

Good one, Jostein. The Swedes struck back, in true Volvo fashion:
If the commentator mocks a country and is positive to others, that is wrong. A commentator shall not insult countries.
You go, Kjell!

And finally in the Eurovision roundup, England's group did not receive any points at all. This was debated at length on the Sunday political talk shows, with some claiming that the vote (or lack thereof) was retaliation for England's stance on Iraq, and others claiming that the band, well, sucked.

How do you say "long, smooth shaft" in Russian?

How the mighty have fallen: from SS-20 missiles to "marital aids". The Russian military, still crazy after all these years. Via IMAO. No, not really. Via Kate.

Zen master and President for Life

If two planes crash into two towers and 3,000 Zionists, crusaders and their running dog apostate lackeys die, does it make a sound in Damascus?

I think Syrian President Bashar Assad has watched the Matrix sequel a few too many times already. That's the only explanation for this weirdness over the weekend:
Is there really an entity called al-Qaida? Was it in Afghanistan? Does it exist now?
To answer: 9/11, they're dead now, and yes, yes, and yes again.

Maybe Assad OD'd on this weekend's Star Trek marathon on the SciFi Channel:
Bin Laden cannot talk on the phone or use the Internet, but he can direct communications to the four corners of the world? This is illogical.
Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a diplomat, but somebodyneeds to tell Bashar al-Spock over there that not speaking on the phone or using the 'net is plenty logical if you have the CIA, NSA, FBI, U.S. Dept. of Defense, MI6, and the rest of the Anglo world's combined intelligence and military assets gunning for you. Damn Vulcans, where's my bourbon...
America is happy with Syria and the Arab countries when Israel is happy with them.
No, America is happy with you all when you aren't killing people in the name of Allah and get your priests to cut it out with the 72 virgins-for-the-corpses-of-Zionists-and-crusaders exchange program. Double for Israel.

The Matrix definitely has you, Bashar. And there are 300,000 Neos on your doorstep.

World news rounded up

OK, enough of the world news. Comments about Amurrrrrrican events, politics, the ad business, and Fox Blondes return tomorrow.

Canadian bacon

Canada, the Norway of North America, has a lot on its plate right now. There's mad cow disease, SARS, a mentally challenged Prime Minister, a high level of sexual attraction to children, and Wayne Gretzky still in America.

Today brings the final straw: the Canadian military believe their new logo looks like it was designed for sissies. Insert your own caustic comment about Canada's participation in the war here.

Blogworld weirdness

If you don't write your own blog, just ignore this. Some people seem quite concerned about their position on those ecosystem boards, so I'm doing my part as the ladies at RightWeAre! have asked. Kate's bought into it too, so it can't be all wrong. If you do have a blog, return the favor or something, lol.