Happy Summer, Loyal Readership!
With the increasing tragi-comic multi-car pileup known as the Bush administration unfolding in slow-motion daily all around us (gee, mightn’t it have been a swell idea to spend some of that Iraq money on, oh, say a bridge in Minnesota?), it seems a particularly good time to pause for a moment to pick on someone else. After all, for all their corporation-loving, their environment- hating, their economy-killing, their lying, corruption and power-grabbing, their bizarre attraction to torture and spying, and their pure, 90-proof evil, at the end of the day, the thing that sticks out is just how utterly dumb this current administration is. As in, God-DAMN these people are dumb! State schools and community colleges can stand prouder today: Most of these people went to Ivies. The American people expect much better: If our elected officials are going to be evil and corrupt, at least they could be smart. But it seems that if the current administration didn’t find politics, they’d likely be unemployable. So when Karl Rove shuffles his irrepressibly doughy, slug-like body out the door (to “spend time with his family”—this man has a family?! Since when did he undergo mitosis?), it’s hard to get too excited. It’s more like, oh, who cares, and, by the way, thanks for sticking us with Iraq. Especially knowing he’s only liable to pucker up one of his many glands and excrete something book that’ll earn him another million dollars.
And so, this issue’s designated whipping boy, picked from a hat including dozens of suspects including SUV drivers, people who drive while talking on cell phones, and people who drive SUV’s while talking on cell phones, is … supermarket grazers! So many prisoner abuses at Abu Ghraib, so many stateside cases of police brutality—all making for terribly PR. Our humble solution is to turn the bad apples in the armed forces and law enforcement on those who stick their grubby little mitts into every available food bin in the supermarket and stuff their hippie-smudged, student-smug or adipose-puffed cheeks and bovinely masticate away, usually talking with their mouths full, to boot. Would anyone really care if one of these people were water-boarded or plugged in like an electrical appliance? Would fellow shoppers do anything other than clap if an unarmed grazer went down in a hail of excessive bullets? Of course not! This way, “interrogation” techniques could be safely and humanely tested out on a population that is ALWAYS GUILTY! Who, after all, brings their own food into a supermarket? And one or two daily shootings would make waiting in the “someone-must-be-filming-this” self-checkout line so much more entertaining while you stand in your own purgatory as the person in front of you for reasons unfathomable to mankind (and most monkeys), cannot seem to find the bar code.
Speaking of People Who Need Some Form of Corporal Punishment, your BNITL also gives a big shout-out to all the sub-intelligent who bought into sub-prime mortgages. Oh, sure, it’s de rigeur to blame “predatory lenders” who are miserable, wretched and none-too-bright in their own right, but it’s like the crystal meth rednecks like so much: Just because somebody’s offering doesn’t mean you have to mainline an ARM into your arm. So, party on, people, but it sure would’ve been nice if you didn’t drag the stock market down with you. Because it means we’re somehow attached to these dopes! Ick! It’s like some bizarre-o dream where you find yourself stuck at a party with a bunch of people you don’t like and you didn’t want to go there in the first place, and now you can’t leave. As the anti-Bush bumper stickers proclaim, “WTF?”
Cheers!
--The Editirs
Suicide Bomber Kills 14 Suicide Bombers: Insurgents Call Incident, “One Dumb-Ass Mistake, For Sure”
A suicide bomber walked into a secret bomb-making factory in Bakuba, Iraq yesterday and detonated himself, killing 14 other suicide bombers who were also strapped with explosives and awaiting the day’s instructions. A spokesman for the insurgent group responsible released a statement apologizing to the other insurgent group, saying, “This unfortunate incident was our bad, totally.”Apparently, the taxi driver who transported the suicide bomber was confused about the address. His dispatcher said, “Well, it would help if, as everybody’s blowing the country up, they could leave the numbers on the buildings.” Nevertheless, both insurgent groups agreed on the fate of the taxi driver: “We shall take revenge on him and on the next 9 generations of his family,” they said in a statement, “after checking, of course, to ensure that he is not part of any other terrorist groups. We would not like to make a similar mistake to the one we just experienced.”
Experts said that this sort of incident is likely to be repeated with greater frequency as the Bush administration’s surge successfully creates more insurgents by the day. One intelligence analyst noted that, in a lesser-known explosion last week, a car packed with explosives blew up another car packed with explosives as the two drivers argued with great urgency about a particular parking space each wanted, even though there were many others available on the street. Apparently, both bombers were targeting the same building. According to onlookers, one driver was shouting to the other, “Look, you spawn of the ox, I must have this space right now or—“ then his car exploded into a fireball, triggering the explosion of the second car. No passing insurgents were hurt in the blast.
In what the White House cited as positive news from Iraq, the otherwise moribund Iraq economy is doing a brisk business in used car sales. President Bush proudly told reporters. “Yeah, strangest thing, but apparently, they can’t buy them up fast enough,” he said.
As for the suicide-bombing incident, according to tribal custom, the bomber’s clan must now give up 28 suicide bombers in payment for blowing up the 14. “We’ll scramble, for sure,” said the insurgent spokesman, “though, I hope they give us a few days. Suicide bombers don’t just grow on trees. And we’re not sure if it’s enough to have our suicide bombers blow themselves up as an act of contrition, or whether the other clan wants to kill them instead. Seems like a waste of suicide bombers, you know?”
One Year Later, Planet Pluto Breaks Silence: Says He’s “Wicked Pissed” at Astronomers’ Snub, Vows Revenge
On the one-year anniversary of his demotion from planet status, Pluto gave an exclusive interview to the BNITL. Still seething, Pluto spoke of his immediate and long-term plans.
BNITL: What was your initial reaction to your re-classification?
PLUTO: Disbelief. Dis-freakin’-belief. But then, I shoulda seen this coming.
BNITL: How’s that?
PLUTO: Well, first, Walt Disney names a canine mental incompetent after me. Hey, I was named for the god of the underworld, pal! People fear Pluto, dig? They don’t fear some dog who plays second-fiddle to a castrato mouse!
BNITL: You’re obviously a proud planet.
PLUTO: Damn right. I’ll confide in you: This is a blow to the P-man. Used to be I had no problem with the lady planets. They’d be like, “Ooh, Pluto, you’re so dark and mysterious” and I’m all like, “Ladies, size don’t matter. Let’s you and me check out the dark side of the moon.” Now, even asteroids like, zip right by like they ain’t got the time.
BNITL: Do you think this was a deliberate effort at character assassination?
PLUTO: Hell, yeah. This is like baby names. One year they’re in, next year they’re out. First, everybody was like, yo, P, how ‘bout you just change your name to something, you know, smaller? You know, like Cupid, something little and cute. I’m all like, “No way. I’m the P. I was named Pluto for a reason, ‘cause I’m big and bad and scary. Ain’t nobody named no planet after Apollo, dig? Dude wears a toga. So, when I wouldn’t change my name, they’re like, fine, you can be Pluto but you ain’t no planet. I tell you, I about busted a volcano right there. Suddenly, it was like hunting season for the P. Tear Pluto down, diss the planet. Leno, Letterman, everybody was ganging up on the P. Yo, what am I, Gary Coleman?
BNITL: What’s next for you?
PLUTO: First chance I get, I’m busting loose of this gravitational prison I’ve been in for 4 billion years, I’m comin’ for planet Earth (yeah, that’s original, right, name your planet after DIRT), and I’m gonna slam my big Pluto ass into Earth. We’ll see how small y’all think I am then. Show y’all what it’s like to be bitch-slapped by a PLANET. A Roman god-of-the-underworld planet. Bitch.”
Posts
