Joining the Club

What do you do to get yourself out of a rut? A dry spell of humor has plagued the dim chambers of my so-called wit. Chez moi, jokes come and go at their leisure, sometimes staying around for weeks on end—like bad house guests-while at other times I hardly hear from them.

I thought that I had made a good, secure home for humor here at Leftbanker and now comedy has abandoned me during the holidays. No note, not even a phone call, and after all I’ve done for it. Fucking ingrate.

Well screw you too, humor. I’ve changed the locks on the doors and the password on this web page. I can get along just fine without you.

From now on I’m going to keep this site completely free of humor and self-deprecation. From now on the only midgets and dead cheerleaders will be headlines, not punch lines. I’m adding a new function to my spell-check that automatically deletes irony. From now on I’m going to be the polar opposite of humor. That’s right; I’m going to be a right-wing warblogger.

I can’t wait to start writing pithy, one-line comments on 20-30 ephemeral bullshit news items each day. I can’t wait to feel the thrill and exhilaration of having a bottle of Yohoo in one hand and my mouse in the other all the while laying low the ideals of equality and justice for all (Just how I operate my computer with both hands full remains a mystery to me. I guess all this is covered at the meetings).

All of this will lead to the big day, the high mass of warblogging: The Warblogger Meet up. Just the thought of being in a room with so many angry white men who never get laid is enough to make me swoon. But who needs the fairer sex when the mere mention of “Arms of Mass Destruction” and “The War Against Terrorism” (TWAT) is enough to send a few drops of testosterone south while forcing bile onto the keyboard. Who needs a Victoria Secrets catalogue when you have a picture of Donald Rumsfeld washing his car in a pair of tight cut-offs and no shirt? Not me.