Cross-posted from the orangey site.
Dread: This diary is rated F for frivolity. It is specifically designed to be viewed by adults with a sense of humor and therefore may be unsuitable for those only interested in Pulitzer grade political material. It has political material, but it’s more amateur Onion-style stuff. This diary may contain one or more of the following: Hostess Zingers (HZ), explicit GIF & JPEG activity (GJ), critter pics (CP), fun (F), crude indecent language (L), dog farts (DF), links to stupid time wasting stuff that may or may not be fun (WTF) and craven stupidity from my co-host (CSFS).
Smee: Hey!
Dread: This diary contains no soy products or additives with extraordinary long names. Also, we provide a heads up for potential spoilers on “Deadwood”.
In the bowels of an old abandoned disco radio station booth a couple of figures lay hunched over their laptops. The studio is littered with packages and the detritus of packages of Hostess Zingers. There’s a bottle of Patron Reposada tequila (baby, who needs friends) in the grasp of one and a diet Red Bull in the clutches of the other. One figure starts to mumble; the mumbling takes the form of a moan and then the words:
No Britney, baby, I swear, I never said you were Queen of the Double Wides.
Dread: Smee! Wake up, it’s time!
Dread: Welcome to our second show. Didn’t think we would make it, all things going to sh8t and such.
Smee: Yep. Things are certainly shaat.
Dread: So I guess we should just go straight into…
Smee: Da da da daaaaaa!
Dread:What do we have on tap for today, Smee?
Smee: Uh, – …. . – . .-. .-. .. … -.-. …. .. .- …- — -.. . -… .- -.-. .-.. . .. … — ..- .-. – — .–. .. -.-. ..-. — .-. – — -.. .- -.– .-.-.-
Dread: Ah, Smee, what the hell is this?
Smee: Duh? It’s the topic of Political Trix .
Dread: Smee, it’s in Morse Code.
Smee: Yeah, well there are a couple of words in there I can’t bear to hear or see anymore.
Dread: You’re being a wuss.
Smee: ..-. -.-. -.- -.– — ..- !
Dread: Now that’s a fine thing to say. Same to you. Fine, then I’ll talk about our topic. The Terri Schiavo…
Smee: Aiiiiiigh! Do not utter those words, they are the words that the Knight of Smee cannot bear to hear.
Dread: What? “Terri Schiavo”?
Smee: Aiiiiiiiigh!!!!
Dread: Are you going to do that every time I say “Terri Schiavo”?
Smee: Aiiiiiiigh!!!! Yes!!!!
Dread:Smee, how are we going to discuss the topic if you keep screaming?
Smee: Well, Dread, I was hoping we could just skip it.
Dread:Um, I suppose we could go to our reporter on the wall, who has her ear to the sh*t. It’s our very own on the scene in the most unlikely of places correspondent, Fern Fly.
Smee: Yesss!
Dread: Fern?
Fern: Yes, Dread. I can hear you. Just give me a minute.
(barf) Oh lordy, THAT tasted better going down.
Smee: Gross!
Fern Sonny, I’m a fly, we do that.
Dread: So what sort of exclusive do you have for us today?
Fern: Well today my exclusive is a front row seat at the Bush Vacation Interrruptus. Not pretty.
President Bush had spent the morning cruising around the ranch. Can I just say, personally, I think a man afraid of horses is a horse’s patootie. I had to fly over to a neighboring ranch for food. But they had some primo horse bombs there, I can tell you. Hot steaming mounds of it. Anyway, some flunkie comes in while Bush was clearing brush. How much brush can a man clear away? Those aides just keep replacing it when he’s not looking. I’ve seen `em do it. So this flunkie comes in and says “They need you back at the White House to sign this worthless piece of legislation for some women named Terri Schiavo.
Smee (in background): Aiiiiigh!
Fern: Now Bush, he no like anyone messing with his vacations, see? I mean one of his kids went to the hospital for an operation and he didn’t even cancel a moment of his fun then. Imagine how she feels. Poor kid. Daddy will fly back home to pretend to “save” the life of some woman he doesn’t even know, but he couldn’t be bothered to spend any time with his very own daughter while she was in the hospital. Bush is a turd, and as a fly, I will tell you I won’t land on him as a matter of principle.
Anyways, he starts stomping around and pouting. Then he starts asking why Terri spells her name with an “i” and how he so tired of everything being spelled different and how he wants to outlaw certain words and add certain words. The man was on a right tear, I tell you. They had to literally drag his ass off the ranch. I was on the flight back up to DC and they were all talking about how great this will be for them. I barfed on his tuna fish sandwich. Twice.
This is Fern Fly back reporting from the Bush hideaway in Crawford, Texas.
<theme music from “Men In Black”>
Dread: It’s time for…
aka She who guards the gate to a thousand hell-like places.
<adjusts robes> Alright, who’s next?
Oh goody, we have some…What a surprise! Republicans. Oh, I just love tossing in the Repubs. I made my list, and now I am checking it twice. So many juicy choices this week. The Priestess is exhausted by the possibilities. But feel I must condemn:
The Amazing “Dr.” Frist!
Come on down!
This man, nay, wizard, can diagnose patients via video. It is amazing! There is talk of him setting up a 1-900 Psychic Med Line (like Miss Cleo, but without the Jamaican accent), thus saving citizens thousands of dollars on worthless medical tests.
Put your phone on your belly and The Amazing “Dr.” Frist will diagnose your problem!
Unexplained aches and pains?
Use your phone as a wand to scan your body and The Amazing “Dr.” Frist will tell you exactly what’s wrong!
And all in the comfort of your own home! No more doctors who actually make YOU come to THEM. No more wasting time in boring waiting rooms. The Amazing “Dr.” Frist can help you without even SEEING you. Even more Amazing: he does not even need to look at your medical records! It is Amazing!
Call now for your Amazing phone diagnosis. The Amazing “Dr.” Frist is waiting for your call.
All major credit cards accepted.
And if you call now, we will send you this shoulder guard absolutely free! Because you never know if that friend crying on your shoulder is carrying some dreaded disease in their tear ducts like AIDS, Dysentery, or Piles. Call now. The Amazing “Doctor” Frist is standing by.
The FDA has not approved the claims made in this ad.
Grab a scrubber “Dr”., because the Priestess is sending you to The Hell of The Dirty Bedpans. Nurses, nurses, everywhere and not a one to clean them. Scrub away and rot there, worm.
Thus commands the Priestess.
Smee: Getting kinda personal there, Priestess.
Rants Silence, worm! Or I shall condemn you to the Hell of the “Got Milk” Commercials.
Smee: Sorry. Jeesh.
Smee: Yo Dude, how pix? Heh, heh.
I’m The Dude. I abide. Here are my pix. Click `em to open `em.
This cat sleeps soundly knowing that the “Do Not Remove This Tag” Police will not be bothering him this day.
I’m just climbing my beat. This tree is my beat, and I’m climbing it.
Of course I’m cute. I’m a flipping puppy! Damn I must be shedding.
Dread: In Clix today we are going to Write Like An Egyptian.
Smee: O E O
Dread: Put in your name and get your Egyptian hieroglyphic to print out. Impress your friends.
Smee: O E O. Write like an Egyptian.
Dread: Let’s move along to our spotlight weekly review where every week is a week in Deadwood.
Dread: Deadwood: You can’t spit in this town without hitting a c*cks*cker.
“New Money””
Dread: What’s your take on this ep?
Smee: Not as good as last week. That one was Mr. Al’s Wild Ride. This felt like a setup for things to come episode.
Dread: Recycled actor alert! Remember this guy from last season?
Smee: He killed Bill!
Dread: Beatrix Kiddo killed Bill.
Smee: Well, he killed Bill, too. Everyone wants to kill Bill. Whatsup with that? And what about poor Will?
Dread: Will?
Smee: Yeah. You always hear in movies “fire at Will.” Man, Will must have done some pretty bad sh*t, to get that many people pissed at him. Must suck to be him.
Dread: Smee. <shakes head> The actor Garett Dillahunt, who played Jack McCall, who killed Wild Bill last season, is now playing Francis Wolcott.
Smee: No f’ing way! He had blue eyes and that droopy thing going on. He was always covered in dirt like Pigpen. I mean you could see the clouds swirling about him.
Dread: He’s an ac-tour, Smee. Who’d ever think he end up being a pretty boy.
Smee: Not me. He toyed with E.B. pretty good in this ep. Got the ol’ E. B.’s hands ashakin’ and the dude stuttering and launching into ship analogies to his menial. But what was with all the “don’t touch me” and not letting Joanie get her rocks off? (“Nuts.”) Geez. Let me in a room with Joanie and see if I stop her from unbuttoning all my buttons. That dude is freaking nuts.
Dread: Dunno, but I’m beginning to think the town of Deadwood attracts more than its share of psychos. Al seems almost normal in comparison.
Smee: Don’t you mean “OOOOOOOOOOwwwww”?
Dread: Yep, Al had a major owie. Quick show of hands; how many of you guys covered your privates when Doc went to work with the instrument of torture? Yep. That’s what I thought. Odd choice laying up one of the chief characters for a few episodes. But when Al gets all better, there is bound to be some `splaining to do. And Alma thinks she’s pissed.
Smee: Alma is “sore disappointed”. Only the lower breeds get pissed. That snooty teacher sure set her off. I was waiting for the cat fight to break out between them. There’s yet another satisfied customer of Boomer’s ass sticks. (For when you absolutely positively do not want to walk cool.) Maybe Bullock should get together with her.
Dread: Naw, I think Mrs. Bullock is okay. And Bullock actually smiled in this episode.
Smee: Thrice! F*cking amazing!
Dread: I also liked the “talk” between Trixie and Jane. Both of them drinking and…
Smee: Shooting the sh*t. Yeah. We already knew Al was a softy last season with the minister. But Trixie nailed it. She’s almost as amusing as Jane when she gets on a tear.
Dread: Al’s a complex kid.
Smee: Joanie better watch her back with her “partner”. That woman seems to be as cold as ice.
Dread: Well, she was a The Borg Queen, after all.
Smee: Oh yeah, I thought I recognized her. Resistance is futile.
Dread: We don’t really have a WTF word this week, but what the f-ck does “Next leap of the creature, they’ll be here.” mean? I’m guessing progress. But who will be here?
Smee: Got me, and I ain’t losing no more sleep over this.
Dread: We got quotes!
E.B. Farnum: (leaving a message for Al) Al. If you’re not dead and already moldering, I send news to revive you. A fish to rival the fabled Leviathan has swum into our waters. Get well soon and we’ll land the c*cksucker together. Your Friend, E.B
Farnum: I’m talking to you, dimwit.
Richardson: I wasn’t listening.
EB: The camp pugilist. (as Bullock walks by)
Trixie:A man can get me in his life with five bucks. $2 if he just needs a handshake.
Jane:(Takes a sip, looks around) Oh, Christ, are we arrested?
EB: Some ancient Italian maxim fits our situation, whose particulars escape me.
Wolcott: Is the gist that I’m sh*t outta luck?
EB: Did they speak that way then?
Joanie: I’ll just be here in my girl’s world diddling myself.
Smee: I give this episode three Zingers. Painful peewee abuse and Al being laid up were downers.
Dread: You’re such a hooplehead. Four Zingers.
If you could banish one topic from media reporting for all time, what would you choose?
Last, but not least we have:
drop one’s guts Vrb phrs. To break wind. Occasionally shortened to just ‘drop one’. E.g.
Smee: What the fu..! Awww man, did you just drop one?
Dread:No man, it was the dog.
Smee: Oh.
Smee: Wait a minute. We don’t have a dog!
All License & Label Images from Acme.
Soup is from the wonderful Letter James.
Special thanks to Maryscott O’Connor for all her help and guidance in the art of formatting.
Zingers are a nutritious snack treat and should not be abused for such trivial pursuits.
