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Member since: Tue Jul 10, 2012, 05:40 AM
Number of posts: 667

About Me

I write a blog of dark humor - Goblinbooks.com

Journal Archives

"Happy Veteran's Day!" By An Obese Man Eating A Corndog At A Mattress Sale

God, these things are good. Perfect amount of crackle, you know? Whoever is working the fryer knows what he's doing. Anyway, they're free for customers, so I thought I'd come in and browse.

I felt guilty on the way over here. I'm spending the day checking out the sales and grazing sample food, and in a bunch of countries I know nothing about, there are American soldiers probably doing horrible things and getting shot. Am I really commemorating their sacrifice by getting my complimentary Sleep-Rite Profile?

But then this thought occurred to me: Why the hell not? Like I said, I am completely ignorant of their mission, and I certainly don't understand how it relates to my actual freedom. Maybe they just took out a terrorist who was about to level my local shopping mall. Then again, maybe they just murdered someone for no good reason. How should I know? US foreign policy is classified, redacted... a total black box. I can't support something if I don't know what it is. And how can you call this a free country when I don't have any control over what it's doing? Oh Christ, my esophagus is on fire.

I have to go lie down on that reinforced Double-King over there, so I'll make this simple: You guys can pretend you're defending my liberty with secret operations and drone strikes, but I get to pretend I'm supporting you with parades and fried food. Sure, we're both lying to each other, but we're going to keep at it until you or I get killed.

I'm not sure which it will be. I might get blown up tomorrow over some stupid thing you did and didn't tell me about. Also, right now I can't feel the left side of my face.

Anyway, I honor your service. God bless whatever.

READ "Get The Government Off Your Back!" By A Hideous Multinational Corporation

A Message To Conservatives From A Civil War Reenactor

I hope this sounds coherent. I've been awake and violently ill for 72 hours with this stomach bug all the guys in the unit have. No one wants to take antibiotics, because they weren't around - we're really into authenticity, you know? The good part is it's helping me make my goal of losing a third of my body weight in time for the campaign. Anyway, I've had a lot of time to think.

Here's what I realized at 3 am while I was soaking my buttons in urine:

"What's okay in one time period is absolutely crazy in another."

I mean, right now I'm shaking, my body is producing a strange smell like bad cheese, and the fever's giving me hallucinations of Shelby Foote dancing in a Rockettes outfit. If I were suffering like this while serving in the Army of the Potomac more than a hundred years ago, folks would say it couldn't be helped. I was just doing my duty. But I'm a real estate broker with a solid health plan, and I am less than five miles away from my Volvo. There's even a Rite-Aid close to the parking lot.

There is no excuse for what I'm doing. None. My wife said that when she took the kids to her sister's. I am surrounded by the 21st century, and I just don't want to live in it. That's nuts. Completely insane. Which brings me to you guys.


A Message To The GOP From The Passenger Pigeon

Things don't look good, bro. I have seen this stage before.

You guys are thinning out, and folks over at the National Review are getting nervous. They used to see people like you everywhere, and now it's just one or two cranky old guys at the bus stop or US Senate. Sad, really. Or it would be sad, if you hadn't tried to sabotage the government.

And this is the trouble with you: You've reached the part where you want to act cute and nice, so someone will put a pair of you in a zoo. Keep the species alive. You'd have a realistic habitat for Tom Coburn - it would probably look like a hunting lodge sometime in the 1950s - and people would try to get Ann Coulter in there and leave them both alone for awhile, only she'd keep scratching his eyes out. But no one wants to do this. They know the result of any pairing would be hideous.

You see? You guys have the worst of both worlds. Your numbers say "endangered," but your actions say "invasive species."


A Message To Republicans From Lord Humungus

There has been too much violence, too much pain. It is time for us to end it. You can not fight me and the other Democrats; We are too powerful. You will not get away. Look around you! Where can you go? How can you possibly escape?

But I come to you from the office of Harry Reid. I come with an honorable compromise. Bring us the one you call Ted Cruz. He has harmed my people, and I want his skull to bejewel and fill with the wine of victory.

Ted Cruz has betrayed you and led you into this terrible predicament! God has delivered him into my hand for his many transgressions. Ted Cruz has raised a force of extremists among your ranks, and they have broken your support in the polls with their wild ramblings. He and his kind have snatched the White House from you and many other prizes. Send him unto me that I may have his head, and then he will no longer trouble you.

You are crushed and beaten. You cower in your think tanks and your cloakrooms, but you can not hold out there forever. Fear is my ally. The fear of electing people who don't believe in evolution and take their social policy from the bad parts of the Bible. This fear will allow my dogs of war to sweep into every seat and every statehouse eventually. It is only a matter of time.

Give me the one you call Cruz! Give him to me, and I will give you safe passage through the wastelands. You can still flourish in gerrymandered parts of Georgia and Mississippi. You can still find a home in northern Florida. You will not perish there.

Read the Rest:

You Already Know The Future Of Ted Cruz

We've seen how this ends. We know what happens to Ted Cruz, because it's happened before. Many, many times. I'm certain, and so are you, and so is everyone else - probably everybody but Cruz himself. Reporters and pundits, paid to have memories like goldfish, won't say it. But I don't make any money at this, so I don't mind. Here it is:

Ted Cruz runs for president. Jackasses in Iowa talk about his honesty and his directness. They portray him as an outsider, a renegade, a fresh new face. What they mean is something else, something darker. Anyway, soon after that - because of dropping polls, stories of infighting, and some hideous thing he says into a hot mike or on hidden camera - his campaign turns into a space shuttle made of balsa.

Does it stop there? Christ, no. Because then Ted Cruz finds what he was meant to do all along. He's going to get a TV show, a radio gig, or an income stream from giving speeches to the kind of folks who think the UN is a totalitarian plot and gay people are poisoning our water supply. Maybe Fox picks him up at first. Eventually, though, he gets a niche market, a place in our culture where he can really cash in on those qualities he showed among the mouth-breathers in the Hawkeye State. Because those qualities are narcissism, paranoia, and shamelessness.

There's a kind of conservative who has these traits. The kind of person who wants nothing more than to peddle conspiracy theories, throw sand in the machinery, and call everyone around him or her a Nazi...


The GOP Crackup Can Be Described In One Sentence...

A team of Ayn Rand clones who don't play well together - imagine that.

Might I Suggest Evil?

Your career is at a really tough crossroads here. You know the employment numbers as well as I do. They're bad, and they're not getting better. If you're going to survive you have to start thinking broadly. Explore all the options out there. Make some changes. I think you should consider giving Evil a try.

Now, Evil is a lot like Accounting. It's not always everyone's first career choice. But as an industry it's solid. The growth potential is huge. I mean, it's Evil. It's got tie-ins with practically every type of business you can name. Because Evil is all about synergy. And synergy is all about Evil.

You don't need special training. You don't need an advanced degree. The entry-level possibilities are right there, and you can pick up plenty of training on the job. That's the beauty of Evil. No one at your job is going to try to stop you from doing as much Evil as you can. They want you to do more of it, and that leads to better prospects. Which lead to more Evil. And so on.

I know, I know. You want to stick with Good. Hey, Good's great. But every new graduate out there wants to do Good. Or they say they do. But how many stick it out and actually make a living at it? Look at this way, you'll always be able to do Good in your spare time. You'll have Good to fall back on, sure. But Evil is where the money is.

Maybe you want to try Moral Ambivalence. Fine. But you know you're just going to end up trying Evil eventually, only you won't be as skilled at it. Why not just dive in and commit yourself to Evil right now? You're not getting younger. You only have so many years left for a real career. That career is in Evil. You know this. It's time. I think Evil could be a really great move for you.

For more hijinks, pease read: "I Don't Want To Kill Everyone You Ever Loved"

Drudge Report Is Packaging Ads As News

Right now, Drudge Report links to a "news post" that's really just a Ford commercial.

The post is in the upper left column, and it's title is "US stuns Germans with 'world's best engine.'" It's an ad on Youtube hosted by Ford. No "sponsored content" label. No news value whatsoever. I want to keep track of it, to see if they do more of this kind of thing.

So... that's got to be the 3,475th sleaziest thing the Drudge Report has ever done.

I'm telling you people so we can keep score. Every once in awhile, you encounter someone who thinks Drudge is a real news source.

(NOTE: My blog, which is full of dark satire and assorted craziness, is www.goblinbooks.com)

"You Picked Your Syria Bracket Yet, Bro?"

Don't crap me, Trev. Don't you sit there and crap me. You haven't even picked your Syria bracket, have you?

I'm right here. You have to talk to me. Are you going to pussy out on me now? We're Sig Ep bros, bro. That's supposed to mean something.

Look, the pool for this thing is $3 million in misplaced development funds. And if you help me, a big chunk of it is going to be ours, yo. We got twenty five hundred dudes across five agencies and twelve contractors picking who's going to take Syria. And their brackets are identical. Almost every one of those assholes has the same choices - Sweet Sixteens full of Assad Regime, Hezbollah, ANF, the Free Syrian Army, and Who The Fuck Cares?

So no one's making money unless there's an upset. Unless the Mumford Salvation Front goes deep and surprises everyone. And no one expects that, because they didn't even exist until last week. They're not going to be alive in 10 days unless those Stingers in the warehouse get put on a ship to Damascus, which they totally did.

They already did, Trev. We talked about it, and I thought you were behind me, man. So now someone with OS-SAP Clearance has to make it look like Clapper signed the order, and then it will take care of itself, because that idiot has lied so many times he won't even remember what the real truth is. And that means I need you to get. The Fuck. On board. I need you to fill out your Syria bracket with our new best friends, so we can collect mad cheddar and be up to our knees in Miami stank this Christmas.

Don't cock-block me with the Constitution, Trev. This is Miami.


"We're Intelligence Professionals, Bro. Let's Have Fun With It."

I'm gonna be the one to say it, bro: Op Ajax is done. Okay? It's over, and it's not coming back. Op Ajax did whatever the hell it was supposed to do. We take 10 minutes to upload the action reports - which no one reads, bro - and we're done for the day.

We're just sitting in this office in freakin' Virginia with nothing to do. We're not getting the next assignment. There were five people who knew we were out here. Three of them are dead and two are lobbyists. We're a codename on some spreadsheet. We're a line-item. We are invisible now.

It's been killing us. I mean, how much money from the Cobra account can we really spend at Dave and Busters, before it gets pathetic? How many times can we prank that douchebag Steve with a TSA action alert?

I'm done feeling this way, Trev. I am done. We have all kinds of options open to us, and we're not even using them. Last night, after we did that thing with the SWAT team at Stacy Morley's house, I got really drunk and came up with a list of our assets. You ready to hear me, dude? Okay...

We have clearances.
We have access to $50 million. Easily.
We have a compartmented op that no one knows about, and everyone's afraid to look it up.
We have the credit card number of everyone in Utah.
We're technically officers in the Iraqi special forces.
Also, remember Chad? The guy in freshman dorms who threw up so bad he blew out the veins in his eyes, and everyone called him Lucifer? Yeah, well, the bitch can task Predator drones now. We're going to lunch at Chili's , and that guy is down for some crimes. He's just as bored as we are.

There are a lot of people like us out there, man. A lot. The whole system's set up that way. People with funds and equipment and nothing to do.

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