Once more dyed the rich red colour of sockeye salmon

real outfits for the lads: Smug Mountie is drunk with lemonade and power
real outfits for the lads: future redneck rancher is two seconds away from whuppin' you
real outfits for the lads: you can't see it, but this kid's wearing chaps.
Flashy Gene Autry sling style holster, with artificial firearm and Curse of Gene Autry
Real outfits for the panicked Home Front

Vitals

Written by the guy who hums to himself as he paws through the dumpster

Fueled by rage and fresh roasted peanuts

Design by
Die Schmutz

Worthwhile Palinode Pages:
Humpty's Menu:
one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - eleven - twelve - thirteen - fourteen

Can't Stop the Link:
palinode's bloggier blog
The Modern Word
open brackets
smartypants
friday-films
luvabeans
buzzflash
new world disorder
sex & guts!
the memory hole
national pist
Milkmoney or Not
mirabile visu
The Web Revolution!

Fueled by rage and fresh roasted peanuts

one swift grump

I used to wonder what in the world could be more embarrasing than listening to pampered celebrities make half-baked pleas for peace, understanding, vegetarianism, animal rights - the whole panoply of sentimental bourgeois causes. Now I know. Bruce Willis has posted a $1 million dollar bounty on Saddam Hussein. That's right: one million Freedom Bucks to the man who captures that grizzled old tyrant. He told soldiers in Northern Iraq: "If you catch him, just give me four seconds with Saddam Hussein". Then he played some more blues.

This is even more embarrasing than Frank Sinatra threatening Communists. Here's a secret: Bruce Willis is a right-wing tit who has lost the ability to distinguish between himself and his characters. What's Willis going to do next? Roam freely throughout Southeast Asia and take out Osama Bin Laden? What a crapwad. What a waste of a million dollars. That's a whole lot of Iraqi children getting meals and medicine, Bruce. Or if you really support the troops, why don't you pay for their hospital meals?

Just a note to say that I fully expect Bruce Willis to read this entry (since, ya know, this is a weblog and therefore immensely important) and contact me. We'll patch up our differences and he'll take me out on his yacht and we'll go bluefin fishing. Then at night we'll relax around a beach bonfire and he'll explain that his macho posturing is really a defense against the emotional wounds that Demi inflicted on him. Then he'll cry, and cry, and I'll pat him on the back like a true friend. Swift as a cobra he'll grab my forearm and flip me into the fire, where I'll rue having started this damn diary.

Retracted on 2003-09-26::6:25 p.m.


parode - exode


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