Faith Can Move Mountains... But Dynamite Works Better
Showing posts with label Franklin Roosevelt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Franklin Roosevelt. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

The Last Stand Of A Mad Scientist

You may want to read this previous post to make sense of the following....


Mad Scientist Meets His Doom After Steampunk Rampage

Vienna (AP) The threat of supervillain and mad scientist Magnus von Malice is at an end after nearly two weeks of continued global threats and demands of complete capitulation from the world’s leaders. Von Malice, the deranged graduate of the Zeppelin Von Blood Academy For The Ethically Challenged, has been known in recent years for world domination attempts, morally reprehensible science experimentation, criminal acts, and self-glorification. He escaped custody from a German prison hospital wing recently, and issued demands to the entire planet of a complete surrender to his rule, among other things.


The days following that initial video demand and narcissistic rant were followed by more video rants, each time spending an hour or so boasting about himself and his “genius mind”, in between seething vows of bloody revenge on Lars Ulrich, the Mountie who had caused him so much trouble. World leaders debated among themselves as to what to do. The French president issued white flags to be flown all over his country. The Russian president was not available for comment. The American president, if you want to call him that, tweeted up a storm. “Fake news! Magnus Von Malice is a great guy! Crooked Hillary and Lyin’ Ted and Franklin Delancey Roosevelt are to blame! Sad!”


At the UN, representatives debated endlessly. Entertainment reporters gossiped among themselves, wondering why a super villain would want the painful death of a heavy metal drummer, not realizing the Lars Ulrich in question was not that heavy metal drummer. They also speculated that sooner or later there would have to be a movie made about the fearsome Magnus Von Malice, but who would be ideal in the part? Carrot Top was the consensus for all of them- yet more proof of why entertainment reporters are pretty dumb.

As to the Mountie himself? Inspector Lars Ulrich, the world’s most dangerous and grouchy lawman, was out of reach. Mounties at his detachment refused to account for his whereabouts. The Canadian government also maintained their silence on the matter. In a detainment facility in Calgary, the former novelist and current murder suspect Jessica Fletcher, facing trial proceedings for multiple murders, issued a statement of her own. “Nobody kills Lars Ulrich but me! Do you understand??? Nobody! I want his head on a pike! His head on a pike!” The lunatic was pulled away from the visitor table at that point by guards, while her attorney told this reporter that everything she said was not to be quoted.


Von Malice, in a more recent video rant, laughed at one point about the absence of Ulrich. “He’s a coward! A coward! He refuses to take the painful death that he surely deserves like a man! But die he will, and at the hands of the greatest genius this world has ever seen! At the hands of Magnus Von Malice!” The supervillain kept laughing at this point for another five minutes, and finally calmed down, facing the camera, smirking. “Let me tell you this. My loathing for Lars Ulrich precedes his ever crossing my path and thwarting my plans! It is a blood feud that spans generations!” The supervillain glared at the screen, his hands clutching at nothing.


“Long ago, my great-grandfather, the esteemed and ruthless scientific genius Gunther Von Malice, an esteemed alumnus of the Zeppelin Von Blood Academy For The Ethically Challenged, just like me, tried to take over the Canadian West with his giant scorpion machine- which, by the way, happened a full century before that giant spider in Wild Wild West, so don’t talk to me about ripping off a bad movie. And we all know it was a bad movie, because the heroes won! Where was I? Oh, yes, Grandfather Gunther. His schemes were thwarted by another Mountie! Zane Ulrich, the great-great-grandfather of Lars Ulrich! So, you see… it’s personal. Lars Ulrich, you are going to die. Die, die, die, infinity die!”


Yesterday, the supervillain unleashed a path of destruction in the Austrian countryside. Witnesses started making panicked calls about a gigantic steampunk style mechanical scorpion stomping its way through the countryside, unleashing fireballs from its stinger, slamming into homes with its claws. At its controls above its head, behind bulletproof glass, was Magnus Von Malice himself, laughing at the destruction he was causing. Later reports and comparisons to the 19th century version his ancestor built would confirm that this scorpion was twice as big as the one used by Gunther Von Malice. And for the record- it was still a rip off of Wild Wild West, which this reporter can concede to agree with the supervillain: it is a bad movie.


Von Malice was closing in on Vienna itself, the city of dreams, with its grand architecture at risk, after six hours of shrugging off attempts by the police to slow him down. Finally, with the city itself in sight, his scorpion machine came to a halt, and the supervillain paused to see two familiar figures standing in his path. Both were cranky. Both were exceedingly dangerous. One was a Mountie. The other was a tiny but ferocious dog.

It was Inspector Lars Ulrich. And Fluffy, Destroyer of Worlds.


The two had teamed up before, to bring down Von Malice and destroy his time machine. Authorities later confirmed the two were in Europe following leads on their mutual foe and had been summoned by the Austrian government through Interpol. Now they were face to face with a gigantic scorpion and a deranged mad scientist bent on destruction. Witnesses reported that Von Malice blathered on over a loudspeaker about an immediate surrender, and then opened fire with his flame stinger.

Ulrich and Fluffy deftly avoided the fire… and then flanked the scorpion from either side, beginning to ascend the legs. What happened next astonished onlookers, who watched the pair of ferocious grouches go to work systematically destroying Von Malice’s scorpion machine and reduce the mad scientist to a state of tears, blood, bruises, and busted bones. “It’s not fair!” Von Malice managed to gripe as he was loaded into an ambulance under the watch of Austrian police and a pair of victorious grouches. “I was supposed to rule the world!”


In the aftermath of the battle, Von Malice is being monitored under tight security as he heals from bones that have been broken yet again. The French president issued a statement insisting that he really didn’t mean to surrender control of his own country. At the White House, Donald Trump issued statements by Twitter: “Unfair! Very unfair! Magnus treated very badly! I want that Mountie thrown behind the wall I’m having Mexico pay for! Sad! Fake news covfefe!”

The gigantic scorpion machine is beyond repair, something lamented by Disney executives, who mused in the battle’s aftermath about adding it to the five times daily Disney parade in Orlando. The machine itself, shattered and busted, is nearly incomprehensible to most engineers who have had a chance to look at it. “To be honest, when you’re insane like this Von Malice guy is, sometimes you create things that nobody else is going to ever sort out how to get to work,” one told reporters.


As for the victors themselves? They were seen having a drink at a Vienna bar before parting ways. Ulrich returned to Canada and his detachment. Fluffy returned to what he was doing- being the terror of Monster Island. And Carrot Top, reached for comment, said, “Hollywood has got to cast me as this mad scientist. Please, there are loan sharks coming by the end of the day for the 150 grand I owe them, and they’re going to break my legs, man! My legs!”

Monday, May 16, 2016

Rantings Of Herr TrumpenCombover

I wrote this up, remarks of He Whose Hands Are Small And Whose Combover Toupee Is A Joke, as told to a select audience of like minds. Minds in this case being a generous expression, considering Herr TrumpenCombover and his fan club aren't that bright. Incidentally, writing in his voice makes me feel icky.


“.... and I’ll tell you something else, folks, when I’m in charge, things are gonna be different. There’s gonna be no more of this being reasonable crap. America First is what I say, and it doesn’t matter who I have to kick around to get things done. If that means I gotta kick Luxembourg around, I’ll do it. What good has Luxembourg ever done? I mean, they gave the world limburger cheese, am I right, folks?

And if those rotten Luxembourgmeisters don’t like the idea of me kickin’ them around, that’s too ****ing bad. I’ll just drop a nuke on them and teach them who’s who and what’s what. ‘Cause that’s what you gotta do these days to make you respected.


I’ve gotta tell you, lots of apologists for that Kenyan guy who thinks he’s the President, I’m not even gonna say his name anymore, it’s disgusting, just terrible, so I’m just gonna have him arrested and charged for high treason as my first act when I’m elected. Should have been done years ago, or hey, maybe my former butler should have just gone ahead and indulged those hostile thoughts he had back in the day. Where was I? Oh, right, those apologists. You know, if we’re gonna make America white again.... wait, I mean, make America great again... oh, hell, with an audience like this, you know what I mean. If we’re gonna make America white and great again, that means we gotta shut them up for once and for all time.

That means making some tough decisions, but hey, I’ll tell you, there’s nobody better at making tough decisions than me, believe me. I mean, I’m amazing and spectacular and outstanding in the big decision game, and you know, my whole record in that is tremendous and speaks for itself. It’s yuuuuuuuge!


So, that’s where we are. Making tough decisions. Not the kind of decisions like which episode of The Apprentice you want to watch. Though speaking of that, when I’m president, I’ll make the network air repeats of my show 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. And every other network too. ‘Cause who needs the news? Just an informed public, which is the last thing I want, am I right, folks?

What it all really comes down to is making those tough decisions, and once I’m elected and inaugurated and whatever the **** else goes on, I get to make them. And you know what? It’s gonna be spectacular what I’m gonna do. From Day One of the Trump Regime, I’m gonna be the greatest president in American history. I’ve got the best team, the best people workin’ for me, it’s gonna be special and unforgettable and something for the ages. Because hey, we’re gonna put banners and giant statues of me in every small town and big city across the country. Just like I deserve.


You know, when I was growing up and workin’ hard to figure out which condo building I’d be putting up someday with Papa’s money, they used to talk about great presidents. Like Lincoln. And Washington. And the Roosevelts. You know what? Compared to me, those guys are losers. Looooooseeers!  I mean, seriously, folks, father of his country? George couldn’t even father a kid. What kind of loser can’t have kids? You know what I do when I find out someone’s sterile? I laugh at them. And I point at them and call them a loser. Loser! That’s George for you, folks, it’s a miracle he managed to win a revolution.


Those Roosevelts? Both of them are losers. Socialist Marxist losers, let me tell you. I don’t care if Teddy was a Republican, he wasn’t on the side of big business, which makes him a fascist communist loser. We should have his name erased from history forever, and if he doesn’t like it, he can come back from the dead and take it up with me himself, that ****ing dead loser coward. Hey, Charlie? People can’t actually come back from the dead, can they? Good.


Same thing goes for FDR. Or Failing Frankie, as I’ll call him. I’ll tell you, folks, it’s disgusting how lazy this socialist bastard loser was. Spent his time in a wheelchair spendin’ his way out of the Depression. You know what winners do, Failing Frankie? Winners can walk.

And something else, folks? Lincoln. I mean, you wanna talk about losers? Here’s a big loser. Can’t even commit to growin’ a proper beard, gets himself shot just when he should be celebratin’ a victory. You know what kind of presidents die when someone shoots them? Losers, Abe! Losers! That’s you! A big ugly loser! And believe me, I know ugly. I’ve argued with Rosie O’Donnell and Megyn Kelly, and that’s ugly. They’ve got blood comin’ out of their... well, you know, it’s disgusting and terrible and I don’t wanna bring it up, but hey, it’s already out there.


You know what else? When I’m President, things are gonna be different. It’s gonna be yuuuuuge, folks, let me tell you, it’s gonna be unlike anything the world’s ever seen before. It’s gonna start with that Kenyan guy who thinks he’s the President bein’ put on trial for treason. And you know who else is gonna be on trial? Hillary. And Bernie, just for good measure. And whoever else I gotta put on trial until all their supporters get the hint. Nobody messes with Donald J. Trump.

And I’ll tell you, folks, it’s gonna be a tough road, but I can do it, because I’m the greatest and the best at what I do. And it’s gonna be great. We’re gonna toughen up those libel laws so that I can muzzle the media so nobody can dare criticize me. We’re gonna take big steps to change things around.  That means making some sacrifices, and I’ll tell you, this is what we’re gonna have to do to get it done. To make America white again. I mean, great again.


We’re gonna have to get rid of that whole Constitution thing.

There. I said it. It’s out there.

We have to get rid of it.

I mean, seriously, folks, it’s a dusty old piece of paper. We’re followin’ a piece of paper and a few lousy amendments. What use has that thing ever been for us? Except for the Second Amendment, which, rest assured, will not be touched under the new Eternal Benevolent Tyranny Of Emperor Donald. You like that title? I thought of it myself. It’s yuuuuuuuuuge. Just like my hands. And my big Trump schlong.


Anything else though is up for grabs. I mean, who really needs the Thirteenth Amendment anyway? I say we get rid of it, go back to the way things oughtta be. Only this time, instead of just havin’ the blacks in a state of perpetual unpaid service, let’s make those Hispanics and those Asians and whatever Muslims are still in the country in the same state. Would that really be so bad? Of course not! Hey, the blacks love me, so they’ll do what I say, and they’ll do what you say too. Because you, my Klan brothers and sisters... hey, we all think alike.


You know, when I get to feeling like I got some soul searchin’ to do, I pick up that Good Book that all of you have read. I pick up the Art Of The Deal. Which will be required reading for all of my subjects after I’m crowned Supreme Emperor. And then, hey, because it’s pretty much required for any candidate to say this kinda bull****, I pick up the Bible, and I look at it, and I say, you know, this book would be even better if there was a Gospel According To Donald. So instead of flipping open a Bible and turning to Three Judges Chapter Seven... what, Charlie? There’s no Three Judges in the Bible? So who the **** were those wise guys who gave Baby Jesus the Enron stock?

That’s beside the point. My point is you could turn in the Bible to the best book of them all, the Gospel According To Donald, Chapter Ninety Eight, Verse Six, where I might be inclined to tell you, “and so go forth, and screweth over whoever thou must, for the Donald hath said that is amazing.” Only I was born a couple thousand years too late.


Where was I? Oh, right, talkin’ about my secret plans. When the time comes and I’ve got myself firmly in control of everything, we’re gonna have to shut all of them up. And by all of them, I mean anyone who ever dared disrespect me and call me names and say I’ve got small hands and a bad toupee, because hey, folks, this glorious head of hair of mine? All Trump.

We’re gonna have to beat them down and take away their rights and throw them in jail if they don’t like that. And it’s not gonna be a high class jail either. We’re talking about old fashioned hell holes where you wake up every day wishin’ you were dead. We’re talking Count Of Monte Carlo kind of prisons. What’s that, Charlie? Monte Cristo? Who the **** cares?


So that’s where we are, folks, let me tell you. We’re gonna go out and we’re gonna win this election, and then I’m gonna unleash my plans to crown myself Emperor, and if anyone doesn’t like it, that’s too bad, because they’re all gonna be locked away behind bars or servin’ as forced labour in my casinos or wherever the hell we wanna put them in a state of permanent misery. Remember, folks, only the Donald can make America white again. Just the way it should have always been. Civil rights can kiss my orange tinted ass.


Oh, yeah... and Megyn Kelly’s gonna get fired as my second act as President. I know, a lot of you are Fox viewers, but hey, it’s gotta be done. She dared to criticize me, and nobody does that.  It’s just disgusting, the way she talks, let me tell you, folks. Makes me wanna vomit.

Now let me tell you why I want Gary Busey to be my Secretary of State...."

Wednesday, January 27, 2016

A Day In The Life Of A Dog

It is time once again for the point of view of the resident dog and cat. As always, the dog starts things off.


7:34 AM. Waking up at home. Slept exceedingly well. Had good dreams of chewing on dog treats. Yum yum yum. What’s even better is having dog treats for real. After breakfast, perhaps. And after my morning run, but before my morning tea mooch session. Note to self: don’t nap through the morning tea mooch session.


7:37 AM. Looking out the window. More snow in the night. Looks nice and fresh and ready for me to go playing in.


7:41 AM. Good morning, human! Fine day out there, isn’t it? Say, how about some breakfast? I’m feeling a bit peckish. Oh, by the way, I had a rather nice dream involving dog treats. Any of those in the offing?


7:44 AM. Devouring breakfast at a rapid pace. It’s almost like I’m a vacuum cleaner, which of course must be sacrilege, because all dogs know that vacuum cleaners are evil.


7:47 AM. Out the door for my morning run. Bye, human! Don’t you be driving off anywhere without me riding shotgun, right?


8:03 AM. Running through the back fields, barking like a lunatic. There are times when barking like a lunatic is the very best thing you can do. Like about sixty percent of the time when you’re awake. Particularly if the mailman is near your house.


8:12 AM. Stopping by the house of that cranky cat. No sign of her in the yard. I give one big woof and start running back into the woods. By the time she’s at the windows, I’ll be long gone! Hah hah hah!


8:14 AM. Heading back through the woods. Right about now that cat’s sitting on a windowsill trying to spot any sight of me to no avail, grumbling through her fangs and vowing a claw vengeance on me.


8:23 AM. Stopping by to see Spike the Magnificent, Tormentor of Squirrels. Hello, Spike! Top of the morning to you!


8:25 AM. Spike and I compare intelligence reports on movements of the enemy. The squirrels continue to remain elusive. We occasionally see them at bird feeders raiding the bird seed like the greedy devious louts that they are, but beyond that, they have made themselves scarce.


8:28 AM. Spike and I discuss what’s coming next week. That annual occasion when people consult weather prognosticating rodents to find out how long winter will last. You and I could tell them that, Spike, I mean, honestly... winter will last as long as it’s meant to last. If that means seventeen more weeks of winter, so be it. Who needs a groundhog for that?


8:33 AM. Taking leave of Spike. See you later, Spike. I have a nap to get to before morning tea, after all, and I don’t mean to be late.


8:49 AM. Barking at the door to be let back in. Human! Loki, Chewer Of Slippers And Annoyance To Mailmen is back!


8:51 AM. The human catches me before I can get past into the house, and subjects me to the Towel of Torment. Oh, come on, human, I haven’t spent that much time rolling around in the snow. I can dry off naturally, you know...


8:55 AM. Circling around three times on the living room rug before settling down by the fireplace. Two times is too few, four times is too many. Nap time, Loki, and this time, set your internal alarm clock.


11:23 AM. Waking up. Glancing at clock. Why did my internal alarm clock not go off? I missed morning tea mooching, and the opportunities presented by cookies. Oh well, better luck with afternoon tea, right? Of course I’m right. 


12:10 PM. Mooching a couple of dinner rolls from the human over lunch. Yum yum yummy!


1:03 PM. Pondering what came first. The dog or the cat. If it was the dog, why do we chase cats then? You know, philosophy can get a little perplexing at times. Rest assured, Plato’s dog never had to deal with these kinds of questions.


4:36 PM. Waking up from nap. Glance at clock.... wait. I slept through afternoon tea too????


4:38 PM. Finding the human in the kitchen. Human? Why didn’t you wake me up for afternoon tea?


4:39 PM. The human presents me with two butterscotch cookies. Oh boy! Yum yum yummy!


5:48 PM. Staring outside while the human’s in the kitchen making dinner. As fun as weekend days are, there’s something not quite right about lacking the opportunity to bark at the mailman.


6:21 PM. Dinner with the human. She’s cut up some beef for me. She insists on eating hers with Brussels sprouts. You know, there are times humans can be such a mystery. You can rest assured that I would never subject myself to eating Brussels sprouts.

Again. Not after that last time.


8:45 PM. The human’s sitting on the couch reading. I’m busy engaged in a staring contest with that stone gargoyle she keeps on the mantle. One of these days, ugly, I’m going to win...


8:57 PM. Rats. Lost again.


11:36 PM. The human is off to bed. Good night, human! I will keep a close eye on the house overnight. When I’m not sleeping, that is, but never fear, I can be awake in an instant. Just not, apparently, when you’re having tea and cookies, in which case I’m sleeping like the dead for some reason.