Archive for the ‘Fighting Blitzens’ Category

h1

It wasn’t a Merry Christmas this year… for many were killed

December 25, 2007

So we read in the news that the Iraqi city of Basra is pretty much calling off Christmas this year in the wake of two Christians being shot. Well, they’re still doing the religious stuff involved with Christmas, but they’re telling people not to set up a Christmas tree or exchange gifts. It’s kind of like getting the withdrawal effects of heroin without the rush of pleasure from shooting it into your vein.

But are the Fighting Blitzens of the 7th Holiday Infantry Division going over to Iraq to defend Christmas from Islamic extremists? No, they’re staying right here, making sure the giant Christmas tree in the town square is defended at all hours from its enemies, which I assume are either birds, loggers, or kids who are into vandalism. We assumed this is because the Fighting Blitzens would be easy targets in Basra with their green and red uniforms adorned with silver tinsel trim.

Instead, much like we do with a lot of things, we’re outsourcing our defense of the Christmas in Iraq to the mercenaries at Blackwater. It’s a 20 million dollar contract with the Pentagon, in keeping with the Christmas spirit of overspending on a bunch of shit no one needs for people you don’t really care about. But we go through the motions anyway…

Actually, I’m not sure how Blackwater is going to bring Christmas back to Basra. Caroling at gunpoint? Throwing presents out of the back of an armored Hummer? Waterboarding villagers to procure the whereabouts of the Grinch? Operational details have not been made available, but I’m pretty sure it’s going to be violent.

So sleep well this Christmas, knowing that this hallowed holiday is well protected by men who don’t answer to any international treaty or law. And best of all, unlike American troops, you’re not required to feel bad if Blackwater mercenaries get killed.  Remember, the little magnetic ribbons say “Support our Troops” not “Support our Overpaid Private Armies.”

-rf

Hark the humor-blogs.com sing… glory to the newborn king…

h1

Oh no! They finally came for us!

June 18, 2007

This past week’s batch of blog posts had to be posted from a secret location out of town. I couldn’t tell you that until today.

Why?  Well, it wasn’t due to Portuguese Intelligence stuff.

It’s because the Fighting Blitzens (US 7th Holiday Infantry Division) came to the conclusion that single unmarried men were a threat to Fathers’ Day. Luckily Jackal the NSA Agent who taps my phone tipped me off and I was able to get out of town with Mikka before the house-to-house searches started.

So Mikka and I get back into town and we go to have a couple pints down at the Bass-to-Bass. And while we’re on our third Lunger Lager (the beer that tastes like tuberculosis), Anonymous Doug comes walking into the bar looking miserable.

“Hey, it’s an Anonymous Doug!” I say. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“I got caught by the Fighting Blitzens and spent the week in a concentration camp, for being a threat to Fathers’ Day” says Anonymous Doug grumpily. “How did you guys evade capture?”

“We skipped town before the raids started,” I say. “I got tipped off ahead of time.”

“Well, thanks a lot for coming to get me, asshole,” Anonymous Doug barks. “You could have saved me a week of hell.”

“Yeah, why didn’t we?” says Mikka. “How did we not remember to bring Anonymous Doug?”

“Because everyone forgets about Anonymous Doug when he leaves the room,” I say. “Unless he’s physically there with you or you’ve got a picture of him in visual range, you forget he exists.”

“Damn it!” says Anonymous Doug. “For the first time in my life, my anonymous powers have screwed me over.”

We make it up to Anonymous Doug by buying him a drink. He’s still pissed off about being in GITMO Jr.

“I kept trying to tell them that I was a father,” says Anonymous Doug. “It’s just that I don’t live with any of those kids or their mothers. But they didn’t listen. They didn’t even want to look at my checkbook to see all the child support checks I write. They just cinched on those plastic handcuff things, put a bag over my head, and threw me in a van.”

“I wonder why the Fighting Blitzens haven’t been sent over to help with the surge in Iraq?” I ask.

“Maybe they don’t have holidays in Iraq?” says Mikka.

“No, they do,” I say. “It’s just that in Iraq they have more important things to worry about than whether their holidays are safe. Like not being maimed or killed.”

“Buy me another beer,” says Anonymous Doug. “They gave me a cavity search at GITMO Jr.”

An unwelcomed hand in your ass will almost always score you a free drink from someone. And in some bars it’s from the guy who put his hand in there in the first place.

h1

Christianity is like P. Diddy

April 9, 2007

Avonia the Wiccan pimp spent Easter weekend protesting outside every Christian church in town, holding a sign saying “Quit stealing from the pagans.”

“They didn’t even change the name,” Avonia says. “They got the name from the goddess Oestre and the Babylonian goddess Ishtar. Both of them goddesses of fertility and Spring and rebirth.”

“I always wondered why there’s no explanation on why the day Jesus resurrects is called Easter,” I say. “At least Christmas is just a smashing of the words Christ and Mass.”

“And they’re really just piggybacking on Passover as well,” says Avonia. “But I can’t speak for the Jews, I can only represent the pagan community.”

Read the rest of this entry ?

h1

They came for the Eve Ensler fans… and I said nothing

February 14, 2007

I’m walking past the community college theater today and I see that nothing is playing there, which is very odd because every year they do The Vagina Monologues for Valentine’s Day.

So I go over to Tina the Lesbian’s house to see what’s up, because she goes and sees this play all the time regardless of whether it’s February 14th or not. But she’s not home.

“She’s hiding,” says Ninja Vicki, leaping down from the roof of Tina the Lesbian’s house.

“From what?” I ask.

“The Fighting Blitzens are rounding up the more strident feminist types in town and putting them in their Holiday Gitmo Camp down at the local football field,” says Ninja Vicki. “So Tina’s hiding in a Dutch family’s attic with Avonia the Wiccan Pimp until this blows over.”

“Why have the Fighting Blitzens targeted feminists as enemies of Valentine’s Day?” I ask.

“According to their press release,” says Ninja Vicki, unrolling a piece of paper from her belt and reading from it, “adherents to feminism have designated Valentine’s Day as ‘V-Day‘ to promote a ‘global movement to stop violence against women and girls.’ Seeing how this has nothing to do with heart-shaped chocolate boxes and long-stemmed roses, V-Day has been deemed a threat to Valentine’s Day and must be neutralized with extreme prejudice.”

“But the ‘V’ in V-Day also stands for Valentine,” I say.

Ninja Vicki goes back to the press release. “Because the ‘V’ in V-Day stands for not only Valentine, but for Vagina and Victory, it is clear that V-Day’s loyalties to the holiday are not pure and have been compromised by foreign forces who may be hostile to Valentine’s Day.”

“So why haven’t they come after you yet?” I ask.

“Well, for one thing they can’t find me,” says Ninja Vicki. “And also I don’t fit their profile. I’m a ninja. I can’t be for stopping any violence. I carry a frickin’ sword and I roundhouse kick people in the head.”

“So when do you think Tina and Avonia can stop hiding?” I ask.

“Probably on the 19th,” says Ninja Vicki. “That’s Presidents Day, and the Blitzens will be on the hunt for Kings and Queens, because monarchies are a threat to the democratic process that gives us Presidents.”

“So they’re either picking up everyone with the last name of King, or they’re raiding the gay bars for drag queens,” I say.

“That sounds like their M.O.,” says Ninja Vicki. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go tap on the attic window of that Dutch family and scare the shit out of Tina and Avonia.”

I wonder if one of them is keeping a diary.

h1

The Holiday Enemy Within

November 23, 2006

People all around town woke up this Thursday, as if it were just a normal day. They went to work. They sent the kids to school. And as they sat in their cubicles and desks and what have you, they had the sneaking suspicion that something was missing.

“OH NO!” they screamed in unison. “Thanksgiving is missing!”

Turkeys remained alive. Large dinners where families gathered from long distances together to overeat were not had. No schools put on plays where children dressed up as pilgrims and Indians.

Thanksgiving just didn’t happen. The one time we needed the Fighting Blitzens and they weren’t here!

Immediately the finger-pointing began. Who was to blame for Thanksgiving being gone? Terrorists? Gay marriage? Nancy Pelosi?

And suddenly a man dressed like me, except I was wearing a mustache, rose up from the angry throng and united them against the true enemy of Thanksgiving: Christmas.

Christmas had turned Thanksgiving into a mere stepping stone, something in Christmas’ way. This year it even threatened Halloween. Every year the stores put up Christmas decorations earlier and earlier. Every year the adult contemporary radio station flips to all Christmas music earlier and earlier. And every year the inane argument over “Merry Christmas” vs. “Happy Holidays” starts earlier and earlier. Soon Labor Day will feel the icy hands of Christmas around its neck.

The enemy of American holidays is within. While its apologists like Bill O’Reilly and John Gibson at FOXNews railed against imagined enemies of Christmas, it was Christmas all along that was the real danger to our nation and its holidays.

And now here we are… turkeyless, stuffingless, and gorging ourselves on too much food-less. All because of Christmas.

So we burned a GAP store to the ground… as a warning to Christmas.

h1

Operation Working Class

September 4, 2006

The Fighting Blitzens might have crossed the line regarding their latest defense of America’s holidays.

The 7th Holiday Division had analyzed the potential threats to Labor Day and found that the unemployed were the largest danger. So that Saturday the Fighting Blitzens initiated Operation Working Class, going door-to-door and arresting as many people as they could who didn’t have jobs… and in some cases people who had jobs working out of the home, but the Fighting Blitzens didn’t buy their stories (Note: Luckily Anonymous Doug eluded capture because no one knows where he lives).

With the high school football field now needed for actual high school football, the Blitzens set up a temporary new Camp Gitmo Jr. (which contained several vegetarians from the Memorial Day raids still deemed dangerous by the Pentagon) at the local roller rink, which caused the cancellation of that week’s Roller Derby League playoff games.

Joining the protest chorus of tens of roller derby girls were employed-people throwing barbeques whose unemployed friends could now not attend their festivities, thus making the barbeque hosts inundated with too much picnic food and drink to properly and safely store. Plus drunk unemployed friends provide parties with much needed entertainment.

With barbequers and roller derby girls being major constituents of the 1st District of our town, the Councilman of the District, Suitcase of Scorpions (R), made some phone calls to his influential friends and allies in government and got the Pentagon to call off Operation Working Class and have the Fighting Blitzens pulled out of town.

In the meantime, the Fighting Blitzens were put on furlough. Preferably somewhere where there are no holidays, like the floating paradise barge in International Waters called Xanadu-It-All-Night-Long, where you can get any liquor or drug you want and you can marry a dolphin, an 11-year old Philipino girl, and a ham sandwich all within an hour. Because when everyday is a holiday, no day is.

h1

Daddy Drinks…Even If You’re Good

June 19, 2006

The Fighting Blitzens took Fathers’ Day off, as there were no threats to Fathers’ Day that they could attack with cluster bombs and Air-to-Surface missiles.

But the day before Saturday brought me my annual letter from the Phoenix Feather Fertility Clinic, thanking me for the generous and copious donations I have given them of my superb DNA. They haven’t been using my seed for new babies, they’ve been using it to fertilize eggs for harvesting stem cells as I requested.

One day there will be army of stem cell-enhanced were-tiger soldiers, and they will be the sons I never could have had with a human woman. Because I am an unfit parent, and women won’t let me near their reproductive organs.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

%d bloggers like this: