To the tough guy in his mom's basement

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Bloodthirsty keyboard commandos are we,
riding our La-Z-Boys, safe as can be.

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But I've Felt the Heat

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I have a fascination with the flapper's doodle-do,
the Roaring Twenties captured; Rudy Vallee's talley-hoo.
Through used book stores in many states I've plowed the dusty tomes,
snared two hundred plus old prints, lugged rare collections home.

But that was merely starting off: I devoured each one of them
and visualized the mise en scène of Babbitt's life back when.
Ah, Sinclair Lewis, he's the man who brought Main Street to life.
Elmer Gantry, Arrowsmith and Dodsworth --- sharp as knives.

Of course Fitzgerald's Gatsby after Bernice Bobs Her Hair,
was written less as fiction -- tantamount to being there.
Days of Dorothy Parker, Alqonquin's ditsy queen,
Round Table regnant reigning over literary scene.

Warren Harding's rise and tragic fall before the swamp
of Tea Pot Dome and calumny engulfed his aides-de-camp.
I've read the history so many times, I was there if truth be told.
Those images became memories: I'm a virtual hundred years old.

Tucson shooting ... not really Reichstag

Without invoking Godwin by hauling up Hitler, I liken what the liberals are doing to what social conservatives do who are of a certain mindset over abortion.

There have been numerous studies done, including one by the Baptist university, Baylor, that show no connection between abortion and breast cancer. Unwilling to let their fervently wished for connection go, these people actually pray for a cancerous connection to be found. In essence, they pray for cancer, not unlike liberals who pray for a lunatic-rightwing connection. He who loudly predicts evil in others is making a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Star Trek: Wedgie

"Plot complication showing up on ship's sensors now, Captain. I am switching to visual...Computer data coming in now, Captain. It's just what we need: a colossal negative space wedgie of great power coming right at us at warp speed."

Captain: Roger. Doctor Crusher?
Crusher: Crusher here.
Captain: We are expecting a massive wedgie. Get sick bay ready for casualties.
Crusher: Captain, I ... we don't have procedures for treating wedgies. Request permission to use the emergency medical hologram as a guinea pig for testing possible treatments.
Captain: Granted.
EMH: What is the nature of the emerg... What in the hell is that? You can't .... Aaaaaaarrrrrghhhhhh!!
Worf: Captain.
Captain: What is it Mr Worf?
Worf: Since as a Klingon I have the strongest loins of anyone on the bridge, I believe it would be best if I take command of the ship before the wedgie hits.
Riker: I don't think so, Worf. As first officer, my loins outrank yours. And as for which of us is the loiniest... Diana?
Troy: Please, Will, not now.
Riker: But you said...
Troy: I don't care what I said. I won't compare...
Worf: What did you say? Why you sorry bi....
Captain: Stop it. That's enough. How much longer do we have until the warping wedgie arrives, Mr Data?
Data: About eighteen minutes, sir.
Captain: Geordi?
LaForge: Engineering, aye.
Captain: The wedgie. Get Broccol... uhm... Barclay on it.
LaForge: Aye, aye, Captain. How long do I have?
Captain: Until the next commercial break.

The Negotiation

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"I'll surrender my armies and hand up my sword
depending on how you will treat me, my lord."

The weary commander, resolved in his voice,
sized up his opponent then gave him a choice.

"Stand down your attackers, call off the strike,
and I'll mercifully put your chopped head on a pike."

"What would you do with my body below?"
the squinty-eyed foreigner wanted to know.

"I'll tie your bare limbs one each to a steed,
then drive them to gallup away at high speed."

"And what would become of my thus quartered torso?"
"I'll paint each limb blue then bludgeon it moreso."

"And will my piked head be looking toward home?"
the supplicant asked as the commander groaned.

"Listen, you jack-wad, you're going to be dead.
What does it matter which way goes your head?"

And with that the commander unsheathed his sword,
whacked his opponent, cut off his gourd.

The lesson, my children, to take from this bit
is get what you can but don't sweat the small shit.

JAG - Muslim style

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Hammon Raab, the sharia attaché for a Pashtun military commander, tries to find a balance between guns and ghee or between making war and love, hence the series title acronym JAG (Jihad And Goatery). Raab ultimately goes for the goat, and no one gets yurt.

Your Hit Parade - Muslim style

Each week, the names and addresses of ten Baghdad Christians are broadcast. Shit happens. Hits happen.

Muslim Ice Road Truckers

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Mohammed finds that taking four prayer breaks a day is killing his load count.

Meanwhile fifty miles north in Tuktoyaktuk, Mohammad realizes that his load consists of two thousand gallons of used grease, primarily melted pig fat. In a fit of porcine repulsion, Mohammad leaves his rig in a huff, gets lost in a white out and freezes to death.

A hundred miles away, tensions mount among Hugh, Polar Bear, and Mohameht over whether Lisa should be required to wear a hijab under her burqa. Lisa resolves the dispute by shooting Mohmeht and throwing his body down Atigun pass.

Must-see TV in 2011

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Don't miss the finale of Ethiopian Idol, where the last contestant standing, after months of brutal begging for food resulted in death by starvation of one candidate a week, receives a comb.

Climate follies

This is the chart that shows temperatures over the last 10,000 years; as you can see, virtually all of that time has been warmer than the present. Click to enlarge:

We are still warming up from the Little Ice Age, and, according to these data, we have quite a distance to go before we reach temperatures that are normal in historical terms. This chart also reflects the fact that human civilization has generally prospered the most during warmer periods.

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