The totaly pointless ramblings of a Jeep owner.

Friday, February 20, 2004

Evil Glenn Fairy Tale 

A Filthy Lie

I was racking my brain to come up with a post in response to the filthy lie assignment, but I just couldn’t come up with anything. I realized that part of my problem was a lack of familiarity with the subject matter. So I headed down to the nearest public library at the first chance I had.

I got there just as story time was starting. “What good luck,” I thought to myself. “If they are doing a fairy tale this could be just the inspiration I need.”

So I settled myself down in the back row of all the little kids, where the parents of the kids wouldn’t be able to give me any funny looks.

“Once upon a time,” the storyteller began, “there was a poor little homeless girl named Goldilocks.”

This was starting out a little strange, but maybe I didn’t remember it as well as I thought.

“And one day as she was wandering, homelessly through the woods, she came across a small cottage in a little field. ‘The people who live here might give me some food,’ she thought. But when she knocked on the door, there was no answer. But, even though there was no one home, the door opened on its own.”

Now it was sounding familiar.

“Peering inside, she saw a low table with three large bowls on it. Her hunger overcame any sense of caution and she quickly ran to the table. Picking up the first bowl she took a small sip. “Ouch,” she said, “this one is too hot. But the fuzzy texture is somewhat pleasing.”


“Next, she went to the second bowl. “Ooh,” she said, “this bowl is too cold. But I am starting to feel strangely energetic.”

Now this was getting weird. I craned my neck, but I couldn’t make out any features of the storyteller.

“Then, little Goldilocks went to the third bowl. This one she drank down greedily and finished with a great lip-smacking sound. “Oh, that was sooooo delicious,” she purred. “The lovely furriness and delicious taste.” She made a muscle. “And look at how strong and full of energy I am now.”

This was getting too strange. I had to see who the storyteller was, so I started trying to work my way through the mass of children.

“Now, full of energy, Goldilocks wandered through the rest of the cottage. In the living room, she found three CDs on the coffee table. She put the first one in the CD player. But it was too loud.”

Well, I guess that the story would be a little modernized, but I still struggled to get to where I could see who the storyteller was.

“The second CD she played was too quiet, but the third one was just right. So she danced the Robot Dance until she accidentally knocked the CD player over, breaking the CD.”

The Robot Dance!?

“Having burnt off all of her recently acquired energy she went upstairs to find a place to sleep. The first room she came to was decorated with large fish on the walls. But the bed was too hard.”


“The second room she came to had smaller fish on the walls, but the bed was too soft.”

I had to see who the storyteller was. But no matter how much I struggled, I couldn’t force my way through the packed children.

“When she came to the third room, the walls had tiny little fish on them, but the bed was just right. So she snuggled up under the covers and quickly went to sleep.”

What is the deal with the fish…? Oh, ok bears like fish.

“Soon after she fell asleep the owners of the cottage came home from their jobs of whacking the hobos of the forest.”

Hobo whackers?!?

“They were a Papa penguin, a Momma penguin and a little baby penguin.”

No not penguins. Could the story teller be… him?

“The Papa penguin went to the table and said, ‘Someone’s been eating my puppy shake.’”


“The Mamma penguin said, ‘Someone’s been eating my puppy shake.’ And the little penguin said, ‘Someone’s been eating my puppy shake. And they ate it all up.”

Anything but puppy shakes!

“Then the penguins went into the living room were they made a new discovery. ‘Someone’s been dancing the Robot to my CD,’ said the littlest penguin. ‘And they broke my CD player.’”

Suddenly I knew how I would be able to see the storyteller and know for certain if it was… him. I stood up, looming over all of the little children. In the corner of the room, where the storyteller’s voice had been coming from, I could see a dark shape among the shadows. All that was truly visible was a pair of scrawny legs that descended into, first a pair of white socks, and then into a pair of sandals. “Puppy blending monster!” I yelled.


“You can’t be allowed to corrupt these innocent children.” I cried. “I will stop you.”

“What do you think my little followers?” he asked the children. With amazing strength and fierceness, the mob of children quickly drove me from the library.

As the door with the previously unnoticed sign “Goldilocks and the Three Penguins” closed, I could just hear Glenn starting the recitation of the unspeakable acts that the penguins did to Goldilocks when they found her in the littlest penguin’s bed.

There you have it. I couldn’t stop him in my hometown, but maybe if the word gets out to enough people, we can end his puppy-blending terror once and for all.


Wednesday, February 18, 2004

Precision Guided Humor Assignment: Those Aren’t My Virgins! 


"AHHHHHHHHHHHH! The pain! It burns!"

"Shut up. And you can stop screaming now. You're dead.”

“But they said that the explosion would be painless and I would instantly go to paradise. Why did it hurt so much?”

“Because they lied. And not just about the pain.”

“Huh? Hey wait a minute, where are my 72 virgins?”

A carton of cigarettes flies towards him. “Here you go. Because of those American Republicans, there are an awful lot of you martyrs here. So we ran out of virgins a while ago. However, thanks to the American Democrats we have lots of these.
"So here are your 72 Virginia Slims. Smoke them slow, they have to last you till Judgement Day.”

“Got a light?”

Monday, February 16, 2004

The Alliance wants you! 

Well, I'm taking the big leap and joining the alliance. Hopefully this will work out as I have very little idea what I am doing with all of the code and all.

Sunday, February 15, 2004

Top ten things that don’t apply to me. 

You may have noticed that I tend to be a little pessimistic. For references, see most of my Sabres posts. To continue along in this manner…

10. I am not a minority. (Unless you count the fact that there is only one of me out of six billion people or so.)
9. I am not an athlete. (I’m afraid that the only games I play are on-line.)
8. I am not tall. (Pygmies do look up to me though.)
7. I am not anorexic. (Frankly, I’m addicted to food. When I tried to give it up, it almost killed me.)
6. I am not female. (Not that I have anything against women. In fact I like them very much, thank you.)
5. I am not rich. (I fall into the lowest income tax bracket for NY State. Of course this means that I pay more in taxes than most people in other states.)
4. I am not poor. (I can’t afford a Hummer. But I do own my own car.)
3. I am not a good driver. (However, my short-iron game isn’t too bad. And I can usually sink a 5-foot putt.)
2. I am not handsome. (But I don’t break mirrors by looking at them. I have to use a hippy like everyone else.)
1. I am not as funny as Frank J. (But I want to be.)
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