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Bigwig is a systems administrator at a public university
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Kehaar is.
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May 17, 2005

Wrecking a Good Song for Half the Readers

Tim Blair has a good post on the feasibility of flushing Korans. [Correction: It was Tom Paine's great post. All those Australians look alike to me, all upside-down and stuff.] Not wanting to trigger massive bloodshed throughout the Muslim world along with fatwas calling for his death, he based his empircal tests on a very rigorous protocol involving a similar book revered as holy writ by a similarly reactionary chunk of the world (Michael Moore's "Stupid White Men") and defended about as vehemently as the Koran by its adherents, though not as intelligibly. Blair proves that it's just about impossible to flush a sizeable book down the terlet. (Though I'm surprised that Moore's readings didn't leave bigger skidmarks). Blair sums up future plans to validate these results thusly: "Coming up tomorrow - Chomsky in a blender!"

At first this put me in mind of Glenn Reynolds, the man who embodies both high quality kitchen gadget blogging, and puppy blending. Surely, he has a very high quality blender capable of taking on Chomsky's turgid prose, as well as cutie-pootie, isn't-he-darling fat Labrador Retriever puppies. Perhaps it's a Kitchen-aid. Come to think of it, Chomsky's wooden prose probably can't be blended with anything short of a a Stihl MS 880 Magnum... And speaking of Chomsky's writing, does it not put you in mind of the bloodthirsty Cambodian genocider (did I mention I'm a Bush speechwriter? As if..) Pol Pot, for whom Chomsky was the world's foremost apologist? Pol Pot would have put Chomsky in a blender, since Chomsky is a teacher, and a writer, and wears glasses. So really, Pol Pot would have put Chomsky in a blender, then through the Cuisinart, and for good measure into the Mr. Bread automatic breadmaking machine, since in Pol Pot's world Chomsky would have deserved to be murdered at least three times over. Or as they say in Halo, "Get up so I can kill you again," which we all know is a classic one liner probably drawn from the writings of Pol Pot, or a Dinkins-era NYPD training manual.

But then as I thought about Chomsky, and blenders and books... hmmm blenders... books... Well, almost inevitably I felt compelled to start drinking heavily, mixing several drinks using a blender and my Mr. Boston Bartender's Guide [64th Ed., Warner Books, NY], the best guide for mixmasters this side of Paul's Boutique.

When I sobered up enough to think without making my eyes bleed profusely, I remembered what I was thinking about to begin with, and thought about the chief parrot head, the king of blender culture, and how his work really spoke to the Newsweek debacle.

With apologies to Jimmy Buffet, for whom I'd buy a beer in spite of his politics and his most ardent fans:

Newsweak-a-Ville
[to the tune of "Margaritaville"]

Chewin’ Falafel,
Bush is so awful,
Stealin’ that sweet crude mid eastern oil.
Bummin’ like nothin,
Wish we had somethin,
Some plan to cover ol’ Shrubby in soil.

Chorus:
Wastin’ away again in old Newsweak-a-ville,
Searching for my lost Pentagon source.
Some people claim that the Chimperor's to blame
But I know it’s all Karl Rove’s fault.

I don’t know the reason
Limbaugh said it was treason.
Nothin’ to show but this big ol’ black eye;
But I say screw Newtie,
F*** honor and duty,
I’d report the story, even if our troops die.

Chorus:
Wastin’ away again in old Newsweak-a-ville,
Searching for my lost F.B.I. source.
Some people claim that Ol’ McShrub is to blame
Now I think…
It’s Karen Hughes’ fault.

My blown reputation,
Mental masturbation,
I’d much rather be working up there at the Times;
But it’s Howie Dean’s Party,
And soon Doctor Smarty,
Will cover the Bushies with all their own slime.

[Aaaaaaaarrrggggghhhaaaaa…ah yay] [crescendo]

Wastin’ away again in old Newsweak-a-ville,
Searching for my lost stripey-pants source.
Some people claim that Chimperor is to blame
But I say it’s all Karl Rove’s fault.
Yes and some people claim Karen Hughes is to blame
I won’t admit, it’s my own damn fault


*Note: These sham lyrics are the latest in a long line of Silflay Hraka song butchery, a tradition started when Bigwig wrote lyrics along the lines of "Kehar where's your boozes", and set it to the tune of "Johnny where's your trewsers," thus infuriating Scots around the world, who retaliated by drinking whiskey and golfing profusely. If you doubt this story, go to any bar located on a golf course, and ask for a show of hands of people of Scottish heritage, especially around St. Andrews, where many of the infuriated Scotsmen went. This will prove my point. Just don't mention Kehar. Or the Germans.

Posted by Blackavar at May 17, 2005 09:51 PM | TrackBack
Postscript:
First time visitor to House Hraka? Wondering if everything we produce could possibly be as brilliant/stupid/evil/pedantic/insipid/inspired as the post you just read? Check out the Hraka Essentials, the (mostly) reader-selected guide to Hraka's best posts, and decide for yourself.
Comments

That was Tom Paine at Silent Running, not Tim Blair.

Easy mistake to make, all those Aussie look alike. Comes from all the inbreeding on the convict ships on the way out.

Posted by: Murray at May 17, 2005 10:47 PM

I thought it was all males on the convict ships. Eeeeeewwwwww.

Posted by: Blackavar at May 18, 2005 07:48 AM
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