> netslackers <

anti-american hero
-- Tuesday, April 27, 2004 --

John Kerry has committed a sin this country will not soon forget. He's a war hero and fought for the United States when it asked him to, but that doesn't excuse the terrible atrocity he committed when he came back from the war. No, we cannot forgive him because what he did is akin to whipping out your penis and publicly urinating on the American flag while singing red China's national anthem. John Kerry committed an act so despicable and morally repugnant that I feel like I'm being kicked in the groin repeatedly every time I think about it.

If you don't know about this controversy sweeping the nation, let me explain: back in the 70s John Kerry was filmed on camera tossing away some medals or possibly ribbons that may or may not have all been his to protest a war he fought in but now wanted to end and in some interview recently he had the audacity to try defending his actions (Google News).

Yes, I know what you're thinking. This man is the devil himself. George W. Bush avoided the war all together and can't account for some of the time he supposedly spent protecting the United States from any possible Vietnamese invasion of the mid-west, but golly-gee, he sure as HELL didn't throw away the medals his dad gave him to play with because the armed forces wouldn't give him any.

I'd say this definitely gives the edge to my buddy Georgie. But he better be careful. What if the Democrats try the same tactic? What if the Democrats start taking the Republicans to task for all sorts of completely trivial things that have nothing to do with a public official's ability to run the country? What if Kerry points out that Bush taught his daughter how to soak up beer like her wife beater at a wet t-shirt contest? What if the DNC releases an ad featuring Bush's abusive relationship with pretzels? Or even worse, what if they insinuate that Bush was attempting suicide on that fateful day when he passed out trying to digest his snack food and therefore isn't fit as commander-in-chief?

Or imagine if the Clinton campaign had taken a similar approach during the 1996 election and had released a television spot in which the announcer said in a low, worried tone, "Bob Dole takes pills to make his Tricky Dick stiff as a Gore. Do you really want a dirty old man running the land of liberty?"

So please, President Bush and various big business donors, think before you insinuate an American soldier is unpatriotic. I'd hate to see you lose this election just because some liberal hippy jerk brings up that one time you got charged with a DUI.

Remember, a vote for Bush is a vote for freedom, Jesus Christ, and all the people who died in 9-11 including the ones who were Democrats and hated his guts for stealing the election.

> KC 4:22 PM [108309732968758385]
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Below is an excerpt from the release you have to agree to if you want to be a part of ESPN's "The Season of the Fan" promotion.

"ESPN and any third parties it selects may . . . alter and/or edit the Material and/or my name, voice, portrayal, actions and/or likeness . . . for any purpose and in any manner whatsoever . . . in any and all media, now known or hereafter devised, in any and all versions, throughout the universe."

That's right, ESPN has UNIVERSAL POWER. If ESPN so chooses, it may photoshop naked pictures of you making passionate love to Bea Arthur and beam them to space aliens along with an edited voice recording of you shouting, "HEIL HITLER!"

In other news: Last I checked a couple hours ago, there were literally a dozen or more cop cars just outside my development and they taped off the entrance to that side of the woods. These woods lead back to my house. I don't mean to alarm anyone, but I MAY BE DEAD BY MORNING. If you don't hear from me sometime in the next week, assume I've met a gruesome end courtesy of the serial killer likely camping out in my backyard. Please notify my next of kin so they can collect my family's remains.

FANTACULAR, SPLENTASTIC BONUS LINK!: A couple weeks ago I stumbled upon one of the smoothest Flash animations I have ever seen and today I stumbled upon a rock and broke my big toe. The focus of this FANTACULAR, SPLENTASTIC BONUS LINK! (TM) is the former. Here it is: Bitey of Brackenwood. Check out the animator's website for more of his work. I recommend checking out his two part hitchHiker short also. The animation is a bit rougher, but the story is excellent.

> KC 2:18 AM [108287392241543237]
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I'm not going to dwell on this because I like to pretend netslackers is a humor site, but this is something I think deserves a little attention.

If you haven't heard, Pat Tillman was killed today. He died fighting in Afghanistan, the same way at least 100 other young Americans have since 2001. I had forgotten about his remarkable story to tell the truth until someone told me about his death earlier today. As many in the media have said, he turned away all the reporters who tried to cover his abrupt change in career paths, so it doesn't seem right to rehash all the details of his background here.

As Adrian Wojnarowski put it in his somewhat roughly written, but well-thought out story on ESPN.com, "An American hero died in Afghanistan on Thursday, but what Pat Tillman was able to remind everyone back home was that, tragically, they die every day."

I had a whole long-winded conclusion to this entry, but I think I'm going to stop now before I begin preaching again and trigger flashbacks to my days as a televangelist. Just remember to observe a moment of silence for fallen troops tonight.

> KC 8:00 PM [108276480606912371]
> (0) comments

Yes, folks. It's a new post. But where's the content?! Under the sofa? In the kitchen cabinet? Beneath those moldy pizza crusts that have piled up on my basement floor?

This is where YOU come in! Be the first one to track down the missing entry and win a free amusement park named after you . . . or me, whichever I feel like!

Do whatever you have to to get the content sent to netslackers HQ. If deadly force is your lone option or you find your only course of action is to transport it illegally over the Mexican border hidden away in your narcotics stash, so be it. Jesus will forgive and forget and even if he doesn't, you've got a new rollercoaster so who the hell cares.

In other news: Gmail has officially launched and Ashcroft is suing Google for copyright infringement.

> KC 7:20 PM [108258962710208408]
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Imagine if you will (and you will, damn it) the following scene:

You are annoyed or angry at someone very close to you, say a family member or your significant other. You convey this to the other person by mumbling or making various dismissive comments because you aren't sure you feel like talking (don't worry, I'm going somewhere with this; netslackers has not turned into a personal diary). Finally you manage to conclude the awkward, stumbling conversation and are about to walk away or hang up the phone when whoever it is you're miffed at whips out the big guns in an effort to defuse you. You try to get out of earshot before they can say it or clap your hands over your ears and sing, "LALALALALALALALALA!" but it's too late.

"I LOVE YOU," they say.

They've got you! Now you are in a very difficult position. Yes, it's true, you love them too, but you're pissed off. This is not a point you can concede! Your mind races. WHAT IN GOD'S NAME DO YOU DO?!

It's clear you heard what they said so you can't just ignore the comment. There's nothing you can do. So you say under your breath, "I love you too," with as much enthusiasm as one might expect from someone who is forced to announce to the world that they still wear Pampers Easy Ups.

But wait! There's another option after all! If you're on the phone when your loved one pulls this stunt on you, simply blurt out the following: "OH MY GOD! I'VE SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUSTED AND MUST HANG UP THE PHONE IMMEDIATELY TO SEEK MEDICAL ATTENTION!" There's nothing they can say to that.

Similarly, if you're talking to them face to face and they say, "I love you," look off into the distance and furrow your eyebrows as if in a deep, worried concentration. Then open your eyes wide in shock and shout, "There is treachery afoot! Someone needs my help! Spectacular Man is off . . . . FOR JUSTICE!"

At this point if you happen to be wearing a shirt with buttons, try ripping it open dramatically and fly away.

Using this strategy, you no longer have to admit that you love whoever it was you were arguing with and you have avoided doing damage to your relationship at the same time! Don't thank me. I'm just doing my job.

> KC 12:39 PM [108230638227767068]
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Abby too has found death by whale. It is a sad day.

Details are still in short supply, but from what I gather, it happened sometime after 10:30 and involved a large beluga, a stick of dynamite, and 7 tons of uncooked bacon. How this resulted in Abby's untimely death is anyone's guess at the moment. Police are calling it an act of terrorism and are currently interogating bacon farmers north of the border.

The questions are many, but one in particular sticks out: Why would Canada so viciously attack its neighbor unprovoked? Only Jesus knows for sure and he's been dead over 2000 years so he won't be much help in the case.

> KC 12:36 AM [108217657271123180]
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The time has come. [Cue mood music.] We laughed, we cried, we ate many hot dogs. But now we must say goodbye. But I take with me many lessons from this experience, mainly that sometimes a man's a man, but sometimes he's Terry Li. Poor Terry.

The scene: Room 165
The characters: Abby Graber, Eric Glover, Mr. Mathwin the Almighty

Abby: nyuh
Eric: clicky click.
Mr. Mathwin: Time to go!
Abby: Woo!
Eric: black men do not woo. woot, yo.
Mr. Mathwin: clean up!
Abby: die now
Mr. Mathwin: no
Abby: you seem to have set off my deja vu sensors
Mr. Mathwin: quiet
Abby: righto

So it ends.

> Abby 10:14 PM [108216844505546841]
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Ten points if you get a penny through Terry's nose.

The scene: Room 165
The characters: Abby Graber, Eric Glover, Christian Brown, Izaak Orlansky, our Fearless Leader, and The Lord, Our God, Easha Anand.

Abby: this graphic is ugly. it is like a big splotch of ugly in the middle of my page.
Easha: ooh, graphic, pretty
Eric: I radiate ambivalence
Abby: grrr
Izaak: hmmm. indecision.
Abby: grrr
Christian: yeah
Izaak: we'll make it smaller and call it fixed
Abby: observe as i disembowel you with a salad fork
Izaak: observe as i hold your page hostage forever.
Abby: touche.

Later

Abby: now only a fourth of my page is twelve shades of ugly. the rest of it has risen to merely bad.
Christian: yeah
Eric: I radiate ambivalence
Izaak: hmmm. indecision
Easha: well...
Abby: die, graphic, die!
Easha: well...
Abby: too late
Easha: ok
Izaak: ok
Christian: ok
Eric: what?
Abby: triumph.

If I were Superman, I wouldn't be here. Hold that thought.

> Abby 8:30 PM [108216258425229583]
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We try to ignore Terry's crazed mutterings as the night continues; most simply avoid that corner of the room, which is beginning to smell of cabbage. Briefly rejuvenated by cake and brownies, we toil on, narrowly avoiding lofting some of the older, sturdier Macintoshes over our heads and hurling them off the roof like bungee jumping, hardwired pidgeons. But without cords.

I could probably kill a buffalo with one of these.

But no buffalos present themselves for the slaughter, and so I am forced to make do squashing small insects beneath the might of my editing pen. Mwahahahaha.

The scene: Room 165
The characters: Abby and a Total Lack of Pizza Guy

Abby: damnit, where's my pizza?
Total Lack of Pizza Guy: ...
Abby: gah

Later

Abby: damnit, where's my pizza
Total Lack of Pizza Guy: sike, right here, yo
Abby: oh. ok.

Listen to the sounds of silence. For now.

> Abby 7:19 PM [108215797211173476]
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The strain is beginning to show. With increasing rapidity the madness descends. Now they stare vacantly into space, visions of picas dancing in their heads and guidelines subdividing their brains into small compartments, not quite big enough for a photo, but too large for a graphic. Young Terry Li has taken to wandering about the lab, mumbling indistinctly and jumping at small noises. We throw pennies at him for food and pepper spray him if he comes too close.

And outside, the insanity rages.

The scene: Room 164
The characters: Abby Graber, Katherine Epstein, and Izaak Orlansky, our Fearless Leader, Sreela Whose-Last-Name-Is-Too-Holy-To-Type. Or-Spell.

Abby: sign my page
Izaak: ok
Abby: schwing!

Later

Abby: sign my page
Sreela: ok
Abby: schwing!

Katherine: I abandon you
Abby: die now
Katherine: no
Abby: drat

The scene: The SAC
The characters: Abby Graber, Hot Dog Man, various and sundry Students of Blair

Abby: give a hot dog
Hot Dog Man: no
Abby: oh, shot down
Students of Blair: ::mill mill, chatter, mill::

Back in flash like a flash in a back.

> Abby 6:11 PM [108215407492640238]
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Under severe duress from the sterling Public Relations Director of Silver Chips, I am forced to write an entry singing her praises. Fortunately, she has walked away, so I am free to disclose to the world how ugly she is and how rabidly we all hate her and her publicly related ways. Just kidding, Nina. We love you. You can take away the cattle prod now. Ow! Oh, God, no more shocks!

The scene: Room 165
The characters: Abby Graber, Katherine Epstein, and Izaak Orlansky, our Fearless Leader

Abby: sign my page
Izaak: is "hashbrowns" one word or two?
Abby: fool

Later

Abby: sign my page
Izaak: no
Katherine: tralala

But wait, folks, there's more. Just not right now.

> Abby 4:39 PM [108214836656939541]
> (0) comments

I regret to inform you all that dearly beloved netslackers writer Chris Mulligan was hit and killed by a three ton whale. According to doctors, he experienced little pain because he died in his sleep and wouldn't have been alive long enough after impact to feel anything anyway. The whale was dropped from an airplane, meaning it was falling at such a high rate of speed that the time between the moment the fat, blubbery underbelly of the overgrown fish touched a hair on his head to the moment it reached the pavement and began its journey to the center of the earth, was nearly instantaneous.

All mourners are welcome to the funeral. Shamu will perform the ceremony and direct the sea burial of the whale corpse.

Meanwhile, Chris's mushy remains have been purchased by the Motts company and packaged as strawberry applesauce.

Authorities have not yet reached a conclusion as to whether Chris or the whale was responsible for the deadly collision. The whale family maintains that Chris was drunk at the time of the accident and refused to get out of the way of their airborne son. "Had [Chris] not been pounding vodka and recklessly walking about in the mall parking lot," said the whale's father, "my son would still be with us today."

When the coroner pointed out that the whale was most likely killed by the force of gravity propelling it into the ground and not by the impact of Chris's body moving at approximately 0.0 mph vertically, the family laughed bitterly and called it a government conspiracy.

For Chris's sake, call President Bush and demand he stop dropping large mammals out of airplanes over populated civilian areas. If we all make an effort, we can make change.

Thank you.

> KC 3:35 PM [108214413530306896]
> (0) comments

I have commandeered netslackers for the evening and will be posting LIVE! (but progressively deader) updates from Late Friday with Silver Chips. Be enthralled. But don't forget to eat your vitamins.

41 minutes of progress have been made, and no one has collapsed from radiation leaking from the monitor, become paralyzed by carpal tunnel, or thrown themselves out of the lab window in madness. But the night is young.

The scene: Room 164
The characters: Katherine Epstein, Abby Graber, and Izaak Orlansky, our Fearless Leader

Abby: sign my page
Izaak: quiet, you are unimportant

Abby: ooh, hangman
Katherine: E
Abby: no
Katherine: I
Abby: no
Katherine: Phytoplankton
Abby: yes

Abby: sign my page
Izaak: no

Stay tuned. Or tune your stay. Either one.


> Abby 3:35 PM [108214497647115215]
> (0) comments

I don't care how famous a poet your are, "wound" still doesn't rhyme with "found." They may be spelled similarly. There may be a cunning configuration of vowels that would suggest the possibility of a chance of the semblence of a rhyme, mayhap, if the weather is clear and the dog doesn't eat it. But this is a vicious lie, like so many things in my life. One day it will not be 12:04, and I could list some of them.

Anyways.

Whenever I read "blah blah blah wound, blah blah blah found," my little mental voice goes "fooned." Which is silly, because that is not all up in the English language.

So Marvell is all like, "tralala, it is a poem about trees and there are trees, ooh look, trees pretty, be all appreciating of my extended metaphor for life FOONED!"

And I am all like, "hehehehehehe" and not up in the appreciating, except for the unintended humor value.

Oh Marvell. Marvell Marvell Marvell. There are too many l's in your name.

> Abby 12:09 AM [108208854322240177]
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"If you've ever seen six year-olds play soccer, that's the mainstream media."
-Jon Stewart

Get ready for a shocker: I, Keith Ricky Ricardo Richard "Tricky Dick" Costanzo, am a liberal. Thus it goes without saying that I consider radio talk show hosts lower than low (I would have found something low to compare them to like sewage or manure, but it's much too late at night/early in the morning to come up with something clever so I've decided to abandon all attempts at anything remotely resembling real humor in this entry). Because let's face it: the news media has a right-wing bias so blatant that every time I hear Fox News call itself "Fair and Balanced" I feel the urge to attack my television set with my admittedly decorational, but surprisingly sharp sword. And radio talk show hosts are by far the worst. They enjoy doing as little research as possible and supliment their flimsy arguments with "facts" gathered from conservative rumor mills and press releases from consevative think tanks. Rush Limbaugh, the public's favorite hypocritical, drug-addled tub of lard, uses his show to preach the gospel according to Matt Drudge, a man devoted to reporting unsubsantiated rumors and packaging them as legitimate news on the world's ugliest website.

So it also goes without saying that I was very happy when Air America Radio launched about a week ago. For those of you that don't know, Air America Radio is the liberal response to the right-wing mainstream media. Al Franken, the guy from Saturday Night Live and author of several hilarious books, hosts one of the shows and lends legitimacy to the whole campaign. While I haven't listened to it much yet as it doesn't air in the DC area, I can already say with confidence that Air America's programming beats the competition's to a pulp.

I don't really have a conclusion to this post or anything particularly funny to say. I just wrote this to get the word out. So go. Go now. Fill your mind with liberal propaganda.

SUPER BONUS COVERAGE!: I may have to agree with some of the analysis of AAR provided by none other than Something Awful (article here). In his commentary, Zack Parsons calls Randi Rhodes, one of the hosts of a show on AAR, some not too nice things. Well I've been listening to her for about an hour now and I have to say she is very very very annoying. She seems unable to let go of minor issues and that stupid accent of hers is starting to piss me off. So from what I've heard so far, I'm not all that impressed, but I will hold off judgement until I have heard The O'Franken Factor which I expect to kick ass. In the mean time, I'm still listening and I must make the following plea to God: Please, for the love of all that is good and holy, remove all noise making orifices from Rhodes' body. Some of the stuff she says I agree with, but she's saying it in ways that make me want Limbaugh to envelope her in one of his folds of fat, never to be seen again.

> KC 3:57 AM [108132463278667201]
> (0) comments