You can upgrade all the songs in your library purchased from them to DRM-free versions a la iTunes Plus.¹ About time, too. DRM is for teh shiteheads.

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1. At 94 items to upgrade (singles and albums), my total conversion cost is about $140. Yikes!

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I suppose the burqas and veils make the bombs easier to hide.

And what do their 72 virgins look like? Late-teen premature ejaculators?

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That might go a long way toward explaining the bizarre lack of ability her face seems to have; specifically, she always seems to smile all the time, but she never smiles with her eyes, and it’s really damn creepy.¹ Used to be people made fun of Hillary Clinton for her pantsuit, and after a while she changed into other things. But apparently Laura Bush is tragically unable to change,² afflicted with whatever malady drove poor old Jack Napier over the edge.

Check under the fold for photographic evidence of the truth of my assertions. Note how, from image to image, there’s a sort of emptiness around the eyes best described by Robert Shaw:

Lifeless eyes, black eyes, like a doll’s eye. When he comes at ya, doesn’t seem to be livin’. Until he bites ya and those black eyes roll over white.

Oh wait, that’s from Jaws, isn’t it?

The Incredible Single-Expressioned Woman:

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1. It’s also familiar to anyone who knows any right-wing ultra-Christian converts. They all have the same vapid, mindless frozen grins, with eyes that look a little too manically in denial to be comfortable.

2. Rather like her husband.

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“We were unable to locate the president’s head,” said Dr. Ken K. Coldfinger. “We have no idea where it might be now.”

However, Coldfinger noted that the procedure was not a complete failure. “At least we were able to remove the vice-president’s arm,” he said.

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I get search hits for hentai, naked brothers band having sex, boys and girls having sex and other things even less savory. My one NBB post is consistently at the top of my visited pages, and not because anyone wants to read about NBB; it’s from search hits, and not nice search hits.

Remember — your IP address, ISP, browser and even your computer’s operating system are exposable data. And that information can be used to track you back to the computer you’re using right now to read this.

Anyone who came here from a Google search is a fuckin’ perv. Look — it’s not here. Go away.

HAMSTERS!*

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* Made you look. Now fuck off.

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Writing for the majority, Antonin Scalia had this to say. His words are offered without further comment.

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The definition of a monopoly is well-established and has been noted by precedent in this and other courts. While it has been argued — eloquently — that the United States federal government is an elected body which has been chosen by the people, we find to the contrary in several important respects.

To begin, the institution of the Electoral College effectively bars individuals from directly choosing a chief executive. Furthermore, this executive is insulated from consequences of his or her own actions when further elected representatives of the people refuse to act on the interests of those whom they putatively represent. Thus we find that the claims of representative government by the United States federal body are spurious.

Furthermore, as has been argued persuasively, monied interests have become the dominant factor in United States federal decisions, most notably in the last half decade, but on an increasing level for more than fifty years. This puts the government’s actions outside pure claims of representation; in truth it seems that more than half the time the United States federal government is acting solely in the interests of agencies in possession of eight and more figures in money assets.

Monopolies exist in a climate antithetical to free trade and open capitalism; a key mark of a monopoly is that it asserts hostile control over other agencies and overtakes them in the name of increasing its own bottom line. Recent actions by the United States federal government toward other regimes have shown it is interested primarily in hostile takeovers of other groups, all to better its own fiscal interests — again, clearly behaving not in a representative fashion, but rather in a business-oriented one.

For this reason we find that the United States federal government is both a corporate, for-profit interest; and that it is behaving in a manner which clearly violates its own antitrust statutes.

We therefore order that the United States federal government be broken up into fifty-one segments, each with loci in extant state capitols plus the District of Columbia. This will allow citizens of the baby Feds to choose which version of government they prefer simply by moving to a different state, and will effectively permanently disband the crushing, overarching control the United States federal government has exerted upon individual liberties and freedoms, particularly in recent years.

Border treaties, currency exchanges and commerce will be worked out over time but will not be a matter for this Court, as it has dissolved itself in the process of dismantling the United States federal government.

So entered.

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Founder and First Pope of the Righteous Church of Fosterology, Jackson appears to be a more or less unassuming man living a modest life just beyond his means in a twelve-foot Airstream singlewide that lost its new house smell sometime between the years 1947 and 2003, during which time something on the order of fifty various litters of hounds inhabited, defecated and urinated in the confined space with him. But behind his five teeth and freshly-deloused beard there twinkles an eye nearly as bright as a Federline dissertation.

Preaching what he calls the Gospel of Paul, Jackson’s theology is muddy but consistent. He claims the soul is like an Aboriginal boomerang, cast from the hand of the Almighty (or possibly by His representative on Earth, Paul Hogan), intended eventually to return to Heaven unless met with temptation — what Jackson calls “The kangaroo head of Satan”.

In weekly services he shakes a rainstick — why, no one can say for certain — and brandishes a hand-made PVC didgeridoo. During his meetings — which have had an all-time record attendance of one other than himself — he becomes strikingly articulate, perhaps even possessed. “I am the Bullroarer of Him Who sits on high and Looks Down on the World, lo, even as unto one who sitteth upon the Rock of Ayers, which is called Ayers Rock!” he warned recently. And, “Do not give in to the temptation to follow the Doctrines of the Bruces, for lo they are most sinful and will clasp ye down into damnation, yea, even as like unto the Saltie doth clasp his prey into himself.”

Though he knows nothing of Australian culture save what he’s gleaned from Fosters ads and Crocodile Dundee movies, Jackson insists he’s on the right path. “It’s gotta be true,” he declares. “Thet Hogan feller, he done went’n gone away twenty year, n when he come back he lookt jus’like hisseff. Hadn’t changed a jot, not even the movies was diff’ernt.”

Jackson was referring to the third and much-delayed film in the Dundee franchise, Crocodile Dundee in Los Angeles — in which Paul Hogan does in fact resemble his earlier self, and which could be seen as an almost miraculous resurrection of a two-decades-dead character. The Lazarine performance, however, doesn’t appear to have been successful outside of Australia — except, apparently, in Jackson’s tin house.

There are other inconsistencies in the Righteous Church of Fosterology, such as the lack of goanna flesh that Jackson insists is a rite of the sacrament, as well as the expected beverage. Fosters, he says, is too rich for his lifestyle.

In their place he substitutes geckos and Milwaukee’s Best.

For Jackson, everything changed some fourteen months ago when he ordered okra lasagna, an “Aye-talian” meal, by mistake at the local diner. The side was a piece of garlic bread that, Jackson says, resembled Australia.

“I lookied at ’er a real long time,” he said, “afore I seen it.” Unfortunately the original piece of bread is long gone, devoured by the legions of hounds or insects inhabiting Jackson’s trailer, but all is not lost. The diner’s owner happened to have a Polaroid camera and, as Jackson says, “Ah kep th’pitcher.”

Some claim to see a superficial resemblance while others insist the slice of bread is the very image of the island contintent itself, with the butter representing the range of the Aborigines, the parsely settlements by Caucasians, and the robust crumb the can-do nature of all the nation’s inhabitants.

Whatever others may see in the sacred slice of toast, Jackson is absolutely rock-solid convinced of his faith. “Mir’culs happen all th’time,” he asserts. “Even in a slice uh Aye-talian bread.”

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“I want to assure the American people that their leadership is still intact, and that we’re already taking measures to quell the rioting that has swept across the nation.”

It began with an immediate 110% increase in income, sales and federal taxes. Millions of Americans were horrified to learn that their paychecks had been retroactively taxed back to 1994, the last year when the Democrats had held power in Washington, and that they collectively owed 428 skajillion million billion hillion dollars.

“Who cares if it’s a made-up number?” Nancy Pelosi said. “I’m a woman with power, and I say pay up, peons!”

Ted Kennedy (D-MA) was seen diving, Scrooge McDuck-style, into a vault of money the size of the Astrodome — the key difference being that McDuck, a beloved Disney icon, was never depicted as swimming drunk and nude through his money, nor with a dozen equally nude and debauched young women. “Money!” Kennedy snorted in glee, backstroking through an eddy of Franklins. “Money money money! We tax! We spend! You earn it but we keep it!

“Suck it up, America!” he cried, then dived deep into the flood of freshly-stolen taxpayers’ currency.

Elsewhere was pandemonium as terrorists, emboldened by the weak-on-terror Democrats, ran through the streets of a terrorized New York, performing unnameable terrorist deeds on the terrified innocents that tried to flee in terror. Similarly terrible actions of terrorism were taking place in Los Angeles, Seattle, Portland and San Francisco, though the latter city had already been rendered to ash by the rain of sulfur and fire that had fallen upon it when hundreds of thousands of uninhibited man-on-dog sex proponents took to the street, performing their favorite actions right out in the open in front of God and everyone else.

“I’m gonna marry this bitch,” said one, hugging and then buggering a basset hound. He went on to defile three great danes and a single, helpless chihuahua before collapsing in a drug-induced state of catatonia.

Along the US-Mexico border things were no better. Millions of Mexican illegals surged across the national boundary line in the course of only a few minutes, completely overrunning law enforcement. On arriving in the US they immediately took over every administrative and white-collar position they could get hold of, then began demanding bilingual menus at French restaurants and free health care while filing trillions of frivolous lawsuits against “damned yanquis”.

“If only we still had our guns,” one Texas man mourned woefully. A former oil company executive whose corporation was shut down immediately by the anti-business Democratic regime, his back was already aching from the labor in the fields he was doing using only a short-handled hoe. “We could have stopped the takeover of our nation by the foreigners and the terrorists. But as soon as those Democrats got into power they took all our guns away. Now we have nothing left.”

He paused to wipe his streaming eyes with a handkerchief. “Don’t these soft lefties see what they’ve done to America?”

Late last night the nation watched in horror as both Keith Olbermann and Jon Stewart issued public apologies for and retractions of, as they said in a joint statement, “our years of frank pandering to the left-wing ultra-liberal power base.” Taking full responsibility as the vice-president and president (respectively) of the Liberal Anti-American Media, they then went on to commit hari-kari.

Even this act of extreme contrition was not enough to appease some, however. “Told you! Told you!” cackled Donald Rumsfeld from his single-wide Airstream trailer in central Oklahoma. Taking a swig of M-D 20/20, he belched and scratched himself idly. “Told you it was just too complicated for regular people to understand.”

Pat Robertson has been at the White House since early this morning, offering counsel and prayer vigils for the Commmander-in-Chief, who is now faced with the unfortunate duty of having to declare martial law and using National Guard troops to assist displaced American citizens into safety camps.

“I’m not afraid, since Jesus is with me,” Bush said, with only a slight alcoholic tremor visible in his hands this morning. “I’ve already run Rummy’s resignation through the shredder. I’m sure we’ll be able to fix everything the Democrats ruined in the last day or two.

“I tried to warn you,” he went on. “I tried to say that security and taxes should matter to the American people.

“Who’s laughing now, huh?”

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“I was watching that crazy beasts show on Discovery and they talked about these terror birds,” Bush said. “Did you know they eat horses? Whoo boy, I wouldn’t want to have to face one of them. But my job as President is to make sure no one has to.”

Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld announced plans to immediately redeploy US armed forces to several locations in South America. “We will teach them the true nature of freedom,” he said, “by killing as many of them as we possibly can.”

Mr. Rumsfeld’s microphone then apparently malfunctioned, as the sound cut out and the rest of his comments were inaudible.

White House Press Secreatry Tony Snow, prior to the President’s briefing, said, “This is another example of the continuing need for America to be constantly vigilant, to not let our resolve slip, and of course to vote Republican — because we don’t want to see what could happen if the soft-on-terror birds liberals were in charge.

“Hell, if it was up to them, you’d have terror birds running wild in the streets of New York or Los Angeles, raping all our women and then forcing them to have abortions.”

Asked whether he was aware that Phorusrhacidae species such as Diatryma gigantea had become extinct millions of years ago — and that the horses they ate were actually Hyracotheria, whch were about the size of a modern housecat — Bush waved his hands. “First off, the Earth isn’t that old. I know it isn’t. The Bible tells me so. Okay? It is unacceptable to think that the Bible might be wrong about anything.

“I’m sure our intelligence is good,” he added. “It might be a little out of date, but if they had terror birds at some point in the past, it makes sense that they still have them today. We can’t wait for the UN to impose sanctions. We can’t let the smoking gun be in the shape of a mushroom omelet.

“Do you understand how dangerous they are? They’re basically animals. They don’t care about the sanctity of human life. They got these great big beaks on ’em, could crush your little baby’s skull real easy. I want you to imagine that. Just think about it for a moment. These animals want to kill your family!”

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The case was tossed out of court; apparently bigotry is still offensive to some judges.

That’s not my point. My point is: What is the slogan for the Sea Scouts?

Feel free to post some ideas of your own; here’s mine:

The Sea Scouts: Turning Boys to Seamen.

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