Monday, December 31, 2007
Konservo, who claims to have spent Christmas in Jay Peak sharing a turkey with a “simply divine” accident-liability lawyer (he won’t divulge the name but says “I’m sure you’ve seen his ad on TV, and believe me, he’s much nicer looking in person”) has returned to New Hampshire where he’s concentrating his efforts.
He’s now daring RALPH to hold a public debate with him. “Ralphikins has not had any competition until now. So let's see how he performs when he and I are at the podium together. I hope he’s not a little fraidy cat. What’s there to be scared of? He won’t see any pantsuits on me - my divine Andre would rather sleep on a bed of cow-muck than design a pantsuit for anyone. You should see the glorious purple velvet gown he’s making me for the debates! RALPH won’t come be able to come near it. He’ll be Nixon to my Kennedy; Shrek to my Princess!”
To which RALPH replied, from his trailer outside Council Bluffs, Iowa: “WHAT IS KONSERVO’S PLATFORM?! HE DOESN’T HAVE A STAND ON ANYTHING EXCEPT HIS SIX-INCH HEELS!! HE HAS BEEN EXPOSED AS LUKEWARM!! LUKEWARM!! LUKEWARM!!!! NOW, EVERYONE KNOWS WHERE I STAND!! I AM THE RAPTURE MAN! RAPTURE MAN!! RAPTURE RAPTURE RAPTURE MAN!!!”
RALPH did not say what he’d been doing over the holidays, but he denied rumors that he had been turned into a gold statuette. “THAT’S A LIE SPREAD BY SOME LIBTARD LOVER OF SKANKY DOUGHNUT-BUMPING PIAPS, ON THE JIHADIST NEWSHOUND FORUM!! I AM ALIVE AND WELL AND THERE’S NOTHING GOLD ABOUT ME!!”
Will the rhetoric result in an actual debate? Stay tuned.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Last night as patrons at Michael Timothy’s Urban Bistro in Nashua, New Hampshire, were finishing their dinners and sipping their Grand Marniers, a diner in a red silk sheath dress trimmed with white fur, who had hitherto sat quietly in a corner with a nondescript companion, demolishing a Mu Shu Duck Pizza, suddenly rose, leaped onto the table, and hitched his skirt above his knees.
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" he cooed. "Thank you for being here, rather than down at Hollis Pharmacy shaking hands with John McCain. For your reward, I have come to deliver a political message you will never forget. I am Konservo the Great, and I am officially announcing my intention to challenge RALPH for the Troll Party nomination. "
Expressions of astonishment (or something) from the patrons.
"Who is RALPH, you may ask?" Konservo continued. "And well may you ask! RALPH, hitherto the sole candidate for the Troll Party, has decided to shirk his responsibilities. He has gone into hiding in the foothills of Montana. He’s been there so long everyone has forgotten who he is. And why? Because he’s afraid of Hillary Clinton!" His nondescript companion lifted his head from the pizza and gave a derisive hoot. "Oh, thanks for reminding me. This is running mate, Campaign Blat. And I share his sentiments. RALPH is a chicken-heart. RALPH is a fraidy little boy! I, on the other hand, am afraid of nobody. I will never hide behind barbed wire or guard dogs, not from Senator Clinton or anyone else. I have taken the motto of your fair state for my inspiration, as I shall illustrate. Mr. Vice-President: Strangers in the Night. Hit it." And while Campaign Blat accompanied him at the piano, Konservo began to croon:
I'll live free or die,
I'm the one to choose
I'll live free or die!
Dooby dooby doo
Doo doo-doo dee-dah
That’s what you’re full of!" shouted a diner, throwing a piece of bruschetta at Konservo. Before long the air was thick with biscotti, garlic bread and pepperoni, while the New Candidate danced in the aisles chanting, "Bring it on! Bring it on!" An alarmed waiter called the police; but by the time they got to the restaurant the mood had changed; Konservo was sashaying between the tables, leading the customers in a chorus of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town," and everyone was enjoying themselves thoroughly.
"He’s cool," said diner Melanie Waite as she emerged from the restaurant. "I don’t care which party he represents, he’s got my vote." Other diners interviewed by this reporter echoed her sentiments.
RALPH’s reaction can only be guessed at.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
After several days of uneventful stalemate, the BlatMan simply shrugged and called out, "I'm hittin' the road. It's getting too dull up here. But I think you’d better show your face, Ralphy, because we have no idea what’s going on while you're in hiding. Campaign Blat has flown the coop, and we don’t know where he is. Kate Stone sent him a ticket to Minneapolis, but he never got off the plane. And we don’t know where Konservo is either. Maybe those two are in the same place. What would that do to your campaign? Think about it." Then he took out his guitar and sang to the tune of "Heartbreak Hotel":
Go and get ‘em, Ralphy.
Hang in strong and tough.
Go out and show America
You’re made of hardy stuff.
Go out and be a hero,
(A mighty hero)
And not a big fat zero,
And he climbed into his truck. To RALPH’s utter fury and terror, all seven Rottweilers leaped in with him, and as he drove away they could be heard yelping happily.
So that’s where it stands right now. RALPH is cringing behind what’s left of his security perimeter, resisting the efforts of Über Troll and the Sonny Brothers to cheer him up or coax him out. Will he come out again by Christmas? And what, if anything, will Campaign Blat and Konservo get up to?
This just in: Cletus S. Knothole, speaking on behalf of the Moment-Men ("‘cause Hiram’s too drunk") made the following remarkable statement: "You know, if we had our way, it’d be Californy Blat runnin’ for President ‘stead of that RALPH character. Kin RALPH dodge bullets? Or turn hisself into a vulture? Or make money come out of a baseball cap? Think about it - with that baseball cap, Californy Blat could make the damn trillion-dollar defissit just (snaps fingers) vanish, iffen he was President."
A bit of idle speculation, or a genuine pointy knife sticking out of RALPH’s back? We shall see.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
In their attempt to waste California Blat, the Candidate and his followers used up all the ammunition in their Montana compound, including the "Terminator" reloads, mini-smart bombs, super-duper grenades and even the Windex refill and the can of Raid. But when it was all over, the intruder simply shook the dust out of his hair and said, "Well, if you’re not going to invite me to dinner, I guess I’ll crash in the back of my truck."
Ah-hah, said RALPH, I’ll nail him when he’s asleep. But to his chagrin the seven Rottweilers all bounded after California Blat, climbed with him into the truck and curled themselves around him like a living blanket, licking his ears and growling menacingly whenever anyone else came near.
The next morning California Blat emerged with a few stale crumbs of bread in the palm of one hand; with his snap of his fingers he turned them into a plate loaded with bacon, hash browns and scrambled eggs, and a huge mug filled with coffee. "Hey, Ralph!" he called, "Smells good, doesn't it? I can make you some too if you’d like, because I love you. I love the world!"
It was Sonny White who replied: "We have our own! Now get lost, Huggy Bear!"
"Not yet," replied the unwanted guest. "Not till I’ve told RALPH what I came to say."
When three hours had passed without the Candidate responding to the challenge, Blat gave in and called: "RALPH! What happened to your campaign? Where’s your duty to the American people? Don't you want to save them from You Know Who? You’ve been invited to participate in all the candidates’ debates, Republican and Democratic. That’s right - both national committees agreed to it, after the Newshounds of the Caribbean dropped all their other demands. They were so sick of Bill O’Reilly they said they’d pay a bargain price just to get rid of him. Isn’t that wonderful? You saved Bill O’Reilly! Now follow it up by saving America!"
No reply, though one could hear, from inside the house, screams of "RAPTURE!!" and "PULVERIZE THE DEFEATOCRATS!" punctuated by excerpts from the "Ride of the Valkyries" and "Smoke on the Water", and by other noises that might have been a pressure cooker exploding and a La-Z-Boy being thrown against the wall.
"The New Hampshire primary is only six weeks away, Ralphy!" his tormentor continued. "Why don’t you put aside your fears and put together a policy platform and show them you're not afraid of PIAPS or anyone else?"
He went on in the same vein without result until evening, when he retired with the Rottweilers to the back of the truck again. Soon afterward those in the house could smell pizza baking in a wood oven, and hear California Blat singing plaintively as he plucked on his guitar:
There’s a RALPHY who’s sure
That he’s bound for Rapture,
And he’s buying a stairway to heaven.
All his foes win the day,
And he’ll see Campaign Blat in the White House.
Oooooooooooh, (chorus of baying Rottweilers)
And it makes me wonder...
The standoff continues.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
I want to go back to this. On the eve of your testimony in the Paula Jones case, there was — you lost your cat. And there was somebody came up to you, a stranger, and mentioned...
WILLEY: He had run away, or he had — just turned up missing.
HANNITY: Your cat did. But you ran into a stranger who mentioned the loss of your cat, and your cat's name, and your children by name.
WILLEY: I didn't run into him. He approached me one morning. He alluded to the fact. He alluded to my cat by name in the past tense. He said, "How is that — how is — he was a nice cat." He said, "That Bullseye was a nice cat."
Of course, since we all know that America's Newsroom is being silenced by the liberal press and Media Matters, Ralph showed the courage and the patriotism of a leader by posting the truth on his blog that is read by many across the U.S. & Canada (and when we mean, read by many across the U.S. and Canada, we mean the eight of us who have started this campaign blog, one hails from Canada). Ralph Gives his fellow Americans some tips on how to defend their pets.
• NEVER LEAVE YOUR PET OUTDOORS UNATTENDED!!!!
• BE PREPARED TO EXERCISE YOUR 2ND AMENDMENT RIGHTS!!!!
• EQUIP THE PARAMETERS OF YOUR HOME WITH SURVEILLANCE TECHNOLOGY!!!
• FIND THE DEFEATOCRAT CLUBHOUSE NEAREST YOU!!! CALL THEM AND PUT THEM ON NOTICE!!! LET THEM KNOW THAT YOU KNOW!!!! THEY ARE COWARDS AND WILL PROBABLY BACK OFF!!!!
• CALL YOUR LOCAL BOARD OF ELECTIONS!!! ACQUIRE THE LIST OF REGISTERED VOTERS FOR YOUR ELECTION DISTRICT!!!! BECOME AWARE OF THOSE WHO ARE DEMLIBS!!!! KEEP YOUR PETS AWAY FROM THESE ADDRESSES!!!! ALERT YOUR LOCAL POLICE, ASPCA, NEIGHBORHOOD WATCH, FAMILY MEMBERS AND NEIGHBORS OF THE RISKS TO PETS IN YOUR AREAS!!!!
No word yet if Ralph plans on attacking Former Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist for his conduct against the felines during medical school.
Friday, November 16, 2007
From No Stone Unturned, Friday, November 16. Reprinted without permission.
It was only a few lines in the Great Falls (Montana) Tribune, but they drew my eye as if by second sight. It was an account of a brawl that began when a dusty stranger staggered into the bar of John Henry’s Restaurant in Choteau, gasped out a request for a double Jack Daniels, and added, "I’ve just seen my own face. Holy shit." When other patrons asked if he was nuts, he replied, "I’m a Vice Presidential candidate!" Things reportedly went downhill from there.
It didn’t take me long to figure out who the stranger was. Finding his cell number still programmed into my BlackBerry, I speed-dialled it without waiting to finish my decaf latte. Campaign Blat answered almost at once. He told me he was sitting in the Great Falls Library with his face buried in a magazine. He was terrified "they" would find him, and he begged me to loan him money so he could get away. I agreed to book him a plane ticket if he’d tell me what had happened, and this is his story:
He and RALPH and the rest of the campaign entourage had been hiding at a ranch in the foothills between Choteau and the Bob Marshall Wilderness Area (he refused to disclose the exact location, saying "You'd never get there alive.") The previous afternoon, as RALPH was checking the CCTV camera in the bathroom, a red, white and blue GMC Sierra roared straight across country and up to the ranch gates, its driver singing at the top of his voice, "You know that I was born a ramblin’ maaaaaan." Of course the truck activated the movement sensors around the compound, triggering the security device fondly known as "The Terminator’. But when the explosion and clouds of flame had subsided, the truck emerged, completely undamaged, gunned through the gate and came to a screeching stop in front of the ranch-house door.
"Then I stepped out," said Campaign Blat in awe. "At least that’s what I thought at first. This guy who looked exactly like me, except for the beard and bare feet, got out of the car and sang out, ‘Hello Ralpheee. You were looking for me?’ It took me a while to realize I was looking at the legendary California Blat."
RALPH turned the seven Rottweilers loose, but California Blat simply raised his hands and they stopped dead and slunk away with their tails between their legs. Then the seven militiamen RALPH had hired to guard the Rottweilers let loose a barrage of machine-gun fire. California Blat simply stood calmly with his hands in the air and, in Campaign Blat’s words, "the bullets went right through him and he didn’t even move. He just smiled and said, ‘you’ll have to do a little better than that.'"
Then, according to Campaign Blat, "all hell broke loose. The militiamen were blasting away with their Uzis and throwing hand grenades, while RALPH was inside bounding from window to window screaming, "BASTARD!!! RUN OUT ON ME AND STEAL MY MOMENT-MEN, WOULD YOU?!! AMERICA IS ON TO YOU, YOU TREE-HUGGING, BIN-LADEN-KISSING ASSWIPE!!!! YOU’LL NEVER LEAVE THIS PLACE ALIVE TO CARRY TALES TO YOUR SKANKY DOUGHNUT-BUMPING MASTER!!!" And more to that effect. Then he grabbed a semi-automatic and started exercising his Second Amendment rights without looking where he was shooting. Bullets were smashing into the windows and bouncing off the walls and I was afraid for my life. I got out of there so fast - with all the ruckus, no one even saw me leave. I ran all the way to Choteau. Can you please help me get out of here?"
I booked a plane ticket for him to Minneapolis. I want to get more out of him. Why is RALPH hiding in the wilderness instead of running his campaign? What does he think of the Konservo incident? And what is California Blat’s purpose in forcing a showdown with RALPH?
As soon as I find out answers, you’ll be the first to know, dear readers.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Anderson, representing the Metropolitan Airports Commission, was terse in his commentary, stating only that the MAC had agreed to drop all charges in return for a settlement "the terms of which are not intended for public disclosure."
Yakimoto was somewhat more expansive, declaring that the agreement was "a victory for freedom of expression" and a vindication of his client's "completely innocent and, indeed, patriotic" motives.
Kate Stone, citizen journalist and author of the popular No Stone Unturned column, asked of Yakimoto: "Will your client be making any statements directly to the public?"
Yakimoto was about to respond when, at the top of the courthouse stairs, Konservo appeared, still clutching his prize Swiffer™ despite the toilet brush - previously entered as evidence - having been returned to him. He was clad in a sultry magenta satin gown and posed elaborately for photographers and reporters as he descended the steps. Yakimoto was seen to shake his head in embarrassment and scuttle through the press crowd, muttering "No further questions, no further questions..." Anderson had already left the scene upon Konservo's arrival.
Stone positioned herself at the forefront of the gaggle as Konservo arrived. "Can you tell us anything about the terms of your release?" she pressed.
Konservo flirtatiously tossed his mop of coarse, gray hair back over one shoulder and purred, "Dah-ling, if I did that, I'd have to kill you, wouldn't I? The terms are so...so naughty!"
The presence of the press corps prevented him from performing a can-can on the steps, despite an abortive attempt. Damp weather also hampered Konservo's stilettos.
"Where will you be going next?" gushed a reporter from Capital Xtra, which has been following Konservo's meteoric rise since his groundbreaking appearance on the Ottawa club scene.
"Well, I'm trying to keep my options open," Konservo murmured, adjusting the reporter's tie with a gesture that prompted a spontaneous blush. "I may head westward. I understand that my dear friend and prospective President RALPH is having some issues with an old and beloved friend. Maybe I can mediate between them. You know - be the third party in the scenario, if you follow me?"
"And now," continued Konservo, gripping the Swiffer™ in lieu of a microphone and tossing the toilet brush theatrically to a CNN correspondent (who caught it with reluctance and gingerly set it down on the concrete), "Now, it's time for a song!":
The name on everybody's lips
Is gonna be Ser-vo!
The boy raking in the chips
Is gonna be Ser-vo!
I'm gonna be a celebrity
Somebody everyone knows
They('re) gonna recognize my eyes
My brush my name my quirks my hose
From just some wingnut blogger guy
I'm gonna be Ser-vo!
Who says that stalking's not a thrill?
And who in case he doesn't hang
Can prove he started with a bang?
Ser-vo...the riiiight-wiiiing shill!
Konservo departed the scene via taxi, blowing kisses and waving.
Pressed for commentary by media later the same day, Judge Pamela G. Alexander, presiding over the unusual case, reluctantly confirmed rumors that the settlement included an agreement for Konservo to perform his drag act at the Metropolitan Airports Commission's annual holiday party; but she also - perhaps significantly - could not be persuaded to confirm the companion rumor that controversial U.S. Attorney appointee Rachel Paulose and Konservo had been an "item," early in the Ralph/Blat 2008 campaign, or that intervention by then-Attorney General Alberto Gonzales specifically at Jeff Gannon's instigation had been a factor in Paulose's appointment.
Konservo was last sighted boarding a Greyhound bus heading west.
Neither the Ralph/Blat 2008 campaign nor California Blat had provided on-the-record commentary at press time.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
According to news reports, pirates ransacked the National Review cruise ship on Hallowe’en night and kidnapped its keynote speaker, talk-show host Bill O’Reilly. The ship itself docked in Kingston, Jamaica on Thursday morning, and the country’s newspapers are still plastered with photos of the well-fed and blue-rinsed passengers coming ashore clad only in their underwear. "How the Mighty have Fallen!" trumpeted the Jamaica Daily Star. (Michelle Malkin is fighting to suppress the photo of herself in a leopard-skin string bikini and six-inch heels. "They aren’t mine," she claims. "The pirates made me put them on.")
A group calling itself the Newshounds of the Caribbean has claimed responsibility. Yesterday the group released a grainy video of Mr. O’Reilly, bound and gagged and clad only in loofahs. Its spokesman, who went by the name of "IB Blackheart", has made the following demands in exchange for Mr. O’Reilly’s release:
- President Bush must wear Mickey Mouse ears during his next state appearance;
- Dick Cheney must appear on The View, and sing "Feelings" while hugging a Teddy Bear; and
- RALPH must be included in all Presidential debates, both Democrat and Republican.
We have not yet heard the Candidate’s reaction to being named in the pirates’ demands. He was last seen somewhere in western Kansas, presumably on his way to Arizona for a showdown with California Blat; however, he has not appeared in public since the California fires began. According to Campaign Blat he is hiding in a bunker in an undisclosed location, guarded by seven Rotweilers and twenty-four security cameras. "He knows what a target he is. Those of us who risk our lives on a daily basis doing this important and vital work must protect ourselves from PIAPS' agents."
We’ll let you know as soon as we learn more.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Tis midnight on the Caribbean Sea.
The cruise ship of the National Review
Lies dark and quiet ‘neath a sultry moon.
The passengers have knelt and thanked their Lord
That they are white, American and rich,
And now they sleep and dream they rule the world.
So deep asleep, they're fully unaware
That in the darkest hours of the night
The Snakeskin Bentley slithers alongside,
And Newshound PbDs and PsDs
Throw grappling-hooks attached to hempen ladders
Up to the cruise-ship’s rails, and start to climb.
Lo! Foremost, with a cutlass in his teeth,
Goes Jonathan the Terror of the Seas,
Though youngest, not the least in fortitude.
And close behind him climb ET the Blue,
Robosa with his monkey, Flying Roachman,
And all the Newshounds of the Caribbean,
All softly chanting, "Get O’Reilly's ass."
Meanwhile, Lephari, locked inside the hold,
Rants loud, and shrieks, and hammers on the door.
"WAKE UP, ALL YE WHO LOVE AMERICA!!!
THE VILE AND STINKING LIBTARDS ARE UPON YOU!!"
But Dead-Eye Ori’s cast a spell of silence
Upon the hold, and only Baskerville,
The tireless Newshound guard, can hear his voice.
At last he gives it up, and screams no more.
He finds his keys, forgotten in his pocket,
Upon a key-chain with a tiny flashlight.
He turns it on, and scans his prison cell.
My God, it’s full of loot! He’s sitting on
A pile of gold doubloons! He’s leaning on
A seven-foot TV, and at his feet
Lie jewels in profusion. He can stuff
Whole handfuls in his pockets (which he does.)
And, noticeably plain among the bling,
He finds a terra-cotta pottery shard,
The rim perhaps of long-lost bowl or jar.
He picks it up, and much to his surprise,
He sees engraved upon it, bold and black,
The three words: JARLSBERG. INVERT. COMFORTER.
Though he has no idea what they mean
He puts it in his pocket.
The cruise ship’s steaming terrified away,
Its passengers stripped to their underwear;
One prisoner they carry, bound and gagged -
‘Tis Bill O’Reilly! Glorious trophy he!
Lephari’s prison opens. "Come on out!"
Says Dead-eye Ori, "And enjoy the feast!
There’s wine and cheese, pate and jumbo shrimp.
There’s veal medallions and a fine risotto,
And you should see the shipload of desserts!
‘Tis food too good to waste on Bill O’Reilly!"
Ah, fain would our Lephari have refused,
But after hours in captivity,
His stomach rumbleth like a gravel truck.
"I’ll eat, and then I’ll save my hero Bill,"
He thinks, and leaves his prison.
On the beach
The air is filled with smell of roasting meat.
Fine wines and pungent brandies go around.
A roaring fire burns its merry way
Through copies of Ann Coulter’s latest book.
The Newshounds, clad in stolen finery,
Are dancing in a circle round the blaze,
While Jolly Nell upon the fiddle saws
And Vermont Davy Jones strums his guitar.
So hungry is Lephari that he grabs
The nearest cheese, and rounds of fresh baguette,
And shoves them in his mouth. But, hunger slaked,
He turns to seek O’Reilly. There he is!
Clad only in a garment made of loofahs,
Bound to a palm tree, gagged with videotape,
Which ever and anon he worketh loose
To yell, "You secular progressive swine,
You let me go! You let me go right now!"
To which the Newshounds holler, "Just shut up!"
"Admit it - you don’t really want to go,"
ET the Blue says sweetly. "Just the fact
That you’re still here means you’re enjoying it.
That’s your own logic." And the Newshounds sing,
Cut his mike and make him listen
Cut his mike and make him listen
Early in the morning.
Lephari cries. ‘YOU JIHAD LIBTARDS VILE!
SO FULL OF HATRED FOR AMERICA!!
OF CHENEY-HATE, AND CONDOLEEZZA-HATE,
AND JUST PLAIN HATE! HATE! HATE!! HATE!! HATE!!! HATE!!! HATE!!!!"
"Relax," replies the King of Lost Doubloons.
"We’re giving him a taste of his own meds.
Chill out, and have a glass of wine, and more
Of this extraordinary Jarlsberg cheese."
Lephari’s face turns purple. "JARLSBERG CHEESE!!?!?!?
ALAS FOR ME! FOR IN MY STARVING STATE
I’VE SWALLOWED VILE NORWEGIAN FOOD, THE DREGS
OF THAT FOUL WORKERS’ PARADISE, THAT DEN
OF TERRORIST, TREE-HUGGING, REINDEER-BUMPING,
AMERICA-DESPISING VIKING SCUM!
I AM DEFILED! MY RED AMERICAN BLOOD
BEFOULED BY JARLSBERG! WOE, OH WOE IS ME!!!!
HOW SHALL I PURGE MYSELF?"
To be continued.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Signs of the fireworks to come were clear at the very beginning of the closed-door hearing, with the defendant’s arrival. He appeared clad in an orange jumpsuit and slippers, desperately gripping a Swiffer™ duster in his cuffed hands. Defense counsel Kjell-Olaf Yakimoto reluctantly explained to the bench that his client had become so distraught without his toilet brush, on the walk to the courtroom he had snatched the Swiffer™ from a janitor’s cart and threatened violence and the Wrath Of Ralph on anyone who tried to take the item away from him, at one point nearly kicking a hole in the wall. Officers escorting the defendant added that they’d had enough difficulty getting him to leave the roll of toilet tissue in his holding cell – said effort having prompted the handcuffs and necessitated first aid for abrasions and a suspected sprained wrist in one officer’s case – and judged the Swiffer™ a benign risk. Judge Alexander agreed and the litigants were seated…Konservo lightly dusting the surface of the table and humming the title tune from Mame under his breath.
Prosecuting attorney Thomas Anderson of the MAC Legal Division asserted in opening statements that the defendant’s actions in the Minneapolis-St. Paul Airport restroom made famous by Senator Larry Craig's alleged indiscretions were just one step shy of domestic terrorism. “At a time of heightened risk, to take up a fortified position within an airport facility is clearly an act of provocation designed to engender fear in travelers and airport staff,” he opined. “Additionally, the use of the blow-up doll as part of the barricade was deeply offensive to many travelers as an element of public lewdness, and there was a high safety risk posed by the potato trail left by the defendant – particularly the raw peelings.” Anderson stated his intent to seek the full penalty for all charges, from the police standoff right down to the bathroom graffiti. Convictions on all counts could, taken together, result in a sentence of up to 15 years in prison and fines of over $250,000.
Rising to Konservo’s defense – after insisting that the defendant stop pounding on the tabletop calling for a karaoke performance – was defense counsel Yakimoto. He urged Judge Alexander to throw out the case, painting the incident as “clearly motivated by the defendant’s high admiration for Senator Craig and his contributions to the state of Idaho” and floating a trial balloon for a “performance art” explanation. When Judge Alexander stated that she found little artistic merit in Konservo’s airport antics, Yakimoto – with a barely-audible stage whisper to Konservo to “for God’s sake stay in your seat, you idiot!” – responded that art is in the eye of the beholder, entering for the record Konservo’s rave reviews from the Lookout Bar & Bistro in Ottawa. He concluded his remarks by suggesting that public service, perhaps janitorial given Konservo’s toilet-brush penchant, would be an acceptable compromise toward his client sidestepping more serious charges.
Speaking from the bench, Judge Alexander commented that in her 24 years of service in Minnesota courts, she had never before encountered quite so unusual a case, and in a rare breach of court protocol directly addressed the defendant, asking Konservo what he had to say for himself.
At this opportunity, Konservo leapt to his feet, waving the Swiffer™ triumphantly and singing in a somewhat grating falsetto:
I’m a grand old fag,
I’m in love with the flag,
And with Senators in restrooms galore!
They’re the emblem of
The stuff I love,
And I just can’t wait to get more!
Every foot taps true
Be you red, be you blue,
And Jeff Gannon’s jets never “lag.”
So should auld acquaintance be forgot,
Here’s a look at my grand old wag!
Having delivered the final line while shaking his backside energetically toward the bench, he then took an exaggerated bow, blowing kisses to all corners of the courtroom, proclaiming “I love you, Minneapolis! I love you! Ralph/Blat 2008!! Larry – CALL ME!!”
Then, as abruptly as his outburst began, the defendant seated himself again, placidly humming once again – this time, the tune appeared to be “The Way We Were” – and he set aside the Swiffer™ to absently doodle Senator Craig’s name on a notepad, dotting the “i” in Craig with a heart.
Judge Alexander immediately reprimanded defendant and counsel for a display unbecoming the court and recommended to Yakimoto that, prior to jury selection several days hence, he might want to consider the wisdom of a not-guilty-by-reason-of-insanity plea.
Konservo was escorted from the courtroom by the officers, tearfully clutching his Swiffer™ and saying “Hello, everybody. This…is…Mrs. Norman Maine…”
More as it develops in this groundbreaking legal case.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
A rumor that RALPH is heading their way, spoiling for a showdown with California Blat, has the local plenty people upset. "He can’t do that," says Stacy Hernandez, a counter attendant at the McDonald’s in Winslow. "Blat’s our hero." she said. Tyler Blake, an attendant at the nearby Circle K gas station, was much blunter. "Anyone wants to fuck with him they’ll have to get by us first."
Plans are reportedly underway for a Live Blat benefit rally and concert, possibly in Grand Canyon Village. We’ll let you know more details, especially if they get Bono to appear.
No one is more outraged than the Moment-Men, currently sharing a house in Holbrook and living on the bounty of Blat’s magic baseball cap. "We ain’t gonna let Ralph git our man," Hiram told reporters flatly. "Blat jumped our roadblock but I bet you dollars to doughnuts Ralph ain’t got that kind of power."
In answer to further questions he added, "Eustace is out of hospital but he’s got one of them big cast things and he’s gotta keep it on for the next two months. He sits watchin’ them soap opries and that keeps him happy." Young Jesse Earl is not quite so sedentary; he’s been making the circuit of radio talk shows, elaborating on his theory that California Blat is Jesus Christ.
In other news - Konservo’s first court appearance in connection with his display at the Minneapolis/St. Paul Airport will take place shortly. His lawyer, Kjell-Olaf Yakimoto, thinks he can get his client off with community service. We await the outcome eagerly.
Monday, October 15, 2007
"THE NOBEL PRIZE COMMITTEE IS IN NORWAY! THIS MEANS IT'S COMPOSED PRETTY MUCH OF NORWEGIANS!! NEVER MIND THAT THEIR COUNTRY IS AT THE TOP OF THE UNITED NATIONS RANKINGS IN THE HUMAN DEVELOPMENT INDEX - EVERYBODY KNOWS THAT U.S.A. IS NUMBER ONE!!!! AND THE NOBEL COMMITTEE HAS CHOSEN TO IGNORE THAT PREEMINENCE AND TO SPIT IN THE FACE OF AMERICA'S-GREATEST-PRESIDENT GEORGE W. BUSH BY AWARDING THE NOBEL PEACE PRIZE TO AL GORE, WHO ISN'T EVEN AN AMERICAN!!!!"
When an audience member at one stop interrupted to remind the candidate that Gore was in fact a United States Senator, a two-term Vice President and a Presidential candidate himself, as well as undeniably American, RALPH responded: "THAT'S VILE, SAPPHIC LIBTARDED PROPAGANDA! EVERYONE KNOWS THAT "GORE" IS WHAT HAPPENS DURING BULLFIGHTS, ONE WAY OR ANOTHER!! SO GORE IS CLEARLY SPANISH!! OR MAYBE MEXICAN!! EITHER WAY, I DON'T WANT HIS SOCIALISTIC, PIAPS-LOVING HANDS PICKING MY LETTUCE!!!!!!!" He then dispatched Campaign Blat and Über Troll into the crowd to subdue and remove the questioner, which they accomplished using large bratwursts as clubs. The Sonny Brothers remained on the sidelines, eating corn on the cob.
RALPH then called for an immediate boycott of all things Norwegian. "ALL MY CAMPAIGN SUPPORTERS MUST IMMEDIATELY STOP LISTENING TO 'PRAIRIE HOME COMPANION'...ON THE OFF CHANCE THAT YOU WERE, WHICH I DOUBT...AND MUST ALSO EAT NO HERRING, LUTEFISK OR MEATBALLS!! GIVE YOUR JARLSBERG TO CHEESE-EATING, DOUGHNUT-BUMPING SURRENDER MONKEYS WHO WILL LAP IT RIGHT UP!!! TURN IN YOUR F(J)ORDS AND START DRIVING SOMETHING AMERICAN, LIKE CHEVROLETS!!!!! (ONLY PRONOUNCE IT SHEV-RO-LETT: YOU DON'T WANT TO SOUND FRENCH.) DON'T GO ON CRUISES!! STAY AWAY FROM GRIEG AND MUNCH AND IBSEN, AND DON'T ALLOW THE DEMONIC DRINK AKVAVIT TO TOUCH YOUR LIPS!!!! DON'T LET YOUR CHILDREN BE VIKINGS FOR HALLOWEEN - SEND THEM OUT TO PROSELYTIZE WITH RAPTURE-READY TRACTS INSTEAD!!!! EVEN OKTOBERFEST IS SUSPECT - TOO CLOSE TO SCANDINAVIA!!!!"
Arriving for his final campaign stop at the Sons of Norway Nordmarka Lodge in Northfield, Minnesota, RALPH there unveiled the campaign video which is displayed earlier in this entry.
Skeptical members were not convinced. Lodge co-President Gerhard Knutson commented that, "This RALPH character seems delusional to me. His running mate was a little more sane, but, then, he's from Minnesota, so that's understandable. Couldn't understand why he kept trying to sell me vitamin tonic, though. And he wouldn't even try the fantastic coffee cake the ladies' auxiliary prepared. That just seemed rude." Knutson's shared office-holder Jon Rondestvedt was even more blunt in his assessment. "The guy's a complete looney," he observed. "Telling US not to observe our proud Norwegian heritage? Honestly, you'd think he was some kind of tragically uneducated right-wing blowhard whose blog was read only by people making fun of him. But I'm sure that's not possible even for this clown...I mean, you can't be THAT dumb and still wind up running for President, can you?"
RALPH did not remain on premises to take questions from the Sons of Norway, but instead boarded the campaign van hastily. At last sighting the campaign team was headed vaguely westward, fueling speculation that RALPH finally plans a confrontation with California Blat, last reported as undertaking a self-imposed vision-quest in the Petrified Forest National Park.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
In the past few weeks numerous observers of the Troll Party scene have remarked on the Candidate’s half-heartedness. He makes few speeches these days. Occasionally he’ll show up at a church meeting but usually he has little to add to his usual talking points: “SKANKY DOUGHNUT-BUMPING PIAPS” or “DEMLIBS HATE AMERICA!!! THEY ARE EXPOSED!!” which he throws out almost mechanically, as if he himself is sick of saying them.
His fans are desperately disappointed. "Ralph's standards have dropped in the last month or so,” remarks TB from the RALPH Appreciation Society of Australia. “In his prime he was such a visionary lunatic...a real path-non-finder, if you will,” sighs longtime Ralph-watcher ET. "Bring back our Ralphy to us, oh please."
Most disappointingly, despite entreaties from around the world, he has not produced a new chapter of “The Morning After” in months. “Maybe he has Plot Problems,” theorizes W.E. Nelson of the National Capital RALPH Appreciation Society. Professor D. Alastair MacBombast was more fulsome in his disappointment. “His narrative, hurling the reader as it did in medias res, or more exactly, in medias bumpus donutibus, built up a churning vortex of passion, a drooling expectation of what would follow. And then nothing followed. NOTHING!! NICHTS!! NADA!! SPITBALLS!!! Oh Ralphy, my Ralphy, how could you do this to us?”
RALPH has so far not explained his altered state. In general he keeps to his room in the campaign RV, Über Troll standing guard at the door with a spike-studded crowbar. Campaign Blat spends most of his time playing solitaire tiddlywinks, while the Sonny Brothers usually head for the nearest bar where they can be heard complaining about what horrible company the Candidate is, and how they're so bored they’d rather have been swallowed by a sea-monster like Prophet Lephari.
What has caused this downturn? Well, consider the sad circumstances of RALPH's life lately:
• not only have the Moment-Men failed to capture California Blat, they’ve actually become Blat’s disciples and told RALPH to take a hike;
• RALPH has failed in his quest to find a trophy wife - or any woman at all, for that matter;
• His once-beloved Konservo decided he preferred life as a female impersonator to being RALPH's follower, and he's in jail now anyway.
What can be done to revive RALPH’s campaign fire??
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
- - - -
Police had a bullhorn and were negotiating with Konservo to come out of the restroom voluntarily. They weren't sure at that point whether or not a hostage situation was in play or not.
As I stood by, the police stormed the restroom with tear gas, pepper spray, and packets of french fries from the McDonald's further down the concourse, on the assumption that potato products might tempt their target. There were sounds of a scuffle within and at least two officers were sent for medical attention due to toilet-brush-burn from the altercation.
Eventually the police emerged with Konservo in custody, his facial makeup running a little from sweat but otherwise in high spirits, chanting "Ralph is Great in 2008! USA! All the way! Rapture this, you losers!" If his ankles had not been restrained I feel sure he would have stripped off his underpants and flung them into the crowd - he seemed to treat the incident as he would just another drag act.
While an officer was reciting the charges for the media - including vandalism, entering a restricted area within an airport, traveling under an assumed name and resisting arrest - I managed to slip into the restroom and snap the photo which illustrates this report. Konservo's toilet brush and the Ethel Merman wig have since been confiscated by police, but I believe the graffiti persists pending the restroom renovation.
The occupant of the adjacent stall - shoe slightly visible in the photo - evaded authorities and remains at large as far as I know.
- - - -
Minneapolis police are holding Konservo in lieu of $50,000 bail. Although the toilet brush and Ethel Merman wig have been entered as evidence in the case, unconfirmed reports say that the blow-up doll just outside the restroom has appeared on offer at eBay.
Saturday, October 6, 2007
And glumly prays, and tears upon his hair.
Meanwhile the Newshounds of the Caribbean
Are dancing in a circle, to a tune
Bouncing from Red-Eye Dave’s harmonica.
Anon they call him, "Come and join the fun!"
But resolute Lephari shakes his head.
"I’LL HAVE NO FUN WITH LIBTARDS!" he replies.
" I’M ON A MISSION, AND IF I SUCCEED
I’LL SAVE THE WORLD FROM DIRE CALAMITY -
IN OTHER WORDS, FROM PIAPS AND FROM YOU!!!"
The Newshounds laugh, and then begin to sing,
What shall we do with Rapture Ralphy,
What shall we do with Rapture Ralphy,
What shall we do with Rapture Ralphy
Early in the morning?
And Dead-Eye Ori sings out the reply,
Put him in a dress and call him PIAPS,
Put him in a dress and call him PIAPS
Put him in a dress and call him PIAPS
Early in the morning.
Anon a rowboat cruncheth into shore -
It is the Mad Canucks; their boat is laden
With two-fours and with Timbits succulent.
They disembark, a-shouting all at once.
"Great news, my friends!" cries Okanagan Laddie.
"A ship ripe for the looting comes this way!"
He opens up an Export with his teeth.
"And what a ship!" says Jolly Nell. "For ‘tis
The cruise-ship of the National Review,
With Kristol, Malkin and Joe Lieberman,
And Bill O’Reilly as a special guest!"
Oh how the pirates whoop and cheer and dance!
"Hurrah!" they cry. "The Rabid Right is ours!
We’ll feast upon their lobster and champagne!
We’ll take their ship and sail it down to Rio,
And spend their loot in Ipanema Bay!
And as for Lord Falafel..." they begin
To outline, at great length, their plans for him,
And they draw lots for who shall have the honor
Of making Bill O’Reilly walk the plank.
"DESIST, YE LIBTARDS VILE!!" Lephari shrieks.
"YOU HATE AMERICA! YOU ARE EXPOSED!!
YOU SHALL NOT TORMENT FAIR-AND-BALANCED BILL,
NOR SUBJECT HIM TO DEGRADATIONS VILE
YOU LEARNED WHILE LICKING SKANKY PIAPS’ FEET!!"
"Relax," says ET Blue, "and have a doughnut."
But nothing stops our wild Lephari’s rant.
"BEWARE OF ME!" he screams. "FOR I SHALL GO
TO BILL O’REILLY AND HIS RIGHTEOUS FEW,
AND WARN THEM OF YOUR FOUL NEFARIOUS PLANS!"
"Oh no!" the pirates say, "We won’t have that!"
And IB Blackheart thus begins to sing:
Put him in the hold without his cap-lock
Put him in the hold without his cap-lock
Put him in the hold without his cap-lock
Early in the morning.
And to the ship they drag our poor Lephari,
And lock him in the hold; and at the door
They leave the Newshounds’ hound, fierce Baskerville
Who snarls with every move Lephari makes.
The ship begins to move; the rafters creak,
The sails go whipping in the freshening wind.
And crouched inside the hold Lephari hears
The voices of the Newshounds lift in song:
Blow ye winds, heigh-ho
A pirating we go!
We’ll give the Right
One hell of a fright.
They’ll shiver from head to toe
How our Lephari hammers on the door!
Alas, to no avail.
...to be continued.
Friday, October 5, 2007
When he failed to appear for the first of two scheduled performances on Tuesday, October 2, club management checked the dressing room and made an unexpected and alarming discovery. One entire wall was covered with random pages of stories from Newsweek, Time, and U.S. News & World Report, each torn out and individually skewered to the wall with steak knives from the kitchen. A selection of Konservo’s naughtier underwear was found in a large Tupperware container filled almost to the brim with Shalimar perfume (hazmat teams were quickly summoned to safely dispose of the pungent mixing bowl and burp-and-seal lid). The overflowing wastebasket revealed numerous abortive attempts to pen what seemed to be a love note, each with many crossings-out and the addressee’s name obliterated so furiously in purple ink that it was unreadable. Authorities’ only clue to Konservo’s possible whereabouts was a Travelocity receipt apparently printed in duplicate on the dressing room inkjet, indicating that Konservo had reserved a sportscar through Hertz - on a Ralph/Blat 2008 campaign account - with an open-ended return date.
“Course I remember him,” said the agent at the car rental firm’s York Street location. “You don’t soon forget that mix of facial makeup, scraggly beard and ballet costume. I did offer to upgrade him to a crossover SUV to accommodate the tutu better, but he insisted on the Porsche.” Citing client confidentiality, the agent declined to state his customer’s planned destination, but did say that he had requested a map including the upper Midwestern U.S. states, suggesting that his wildly successful flirtation with the Ottawa club scene may be at an unfortunate end.
Konservo was last seen heading toward the Trans-Canada Highway West, his trusty toilet brush clutched in the hands of a blow-up doll, wearing his Ethel Merman costume, in the passenger seat.
Rapture Ralph for President urges anyone who may sight Konservo in the next 48 hours to contact this blog with updated information. In addition to providing this valuable data to local and federal law enforcement entities, we have entered into an arrangement with KOOKS (Konservo Owns Our Kisses Society – the unofficial Konservo Fan Club) to forward cards, letters and requests for locks of beard to his next confirmed location.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Monday, October 1, 2007
Upon a mission to locate the key
To save earth from Calamity Foretold,
Lephari floats upon a balmy sea
Beneath a white and burning tropic sun.
He’s clinging to a balsam log. All round
Lies water, sapphire blue. On the horizon
He sees a white and palm-encircled beach,
But else there’s naught but water, sapphire blue.
Where are the clues the beast had promised him?
"Oh Lord please send me guidance!" prays Lephari.
But - horrors! - the Lord sends him sharks instead,
A dozen fins slow-circling in the waves.
He paddles hard; the fins come following,
A dozen fins, a thousand hungry teeth.
"VILE LEPROUS LIBTARDS!" bold Lephari cries.
"I KNOW ‘TIS PIAPS SENT YOU! FOR SHE KNOWS
THAT IT’S MY TASK TO SAVE THE WORLD FROM HER!
YOU ARE EXPOSED!!! BUT I AM ON A QUEST,
AND WON’T FORSWEAR IT JUST TO BE YOUR DINNER!"
Something bumps against his legs. He shrieks.
But lo! His prayer is answered, for behold!
Here comes a motorboat at roaring speed!
The predatory fins all disappear.
Strong hands pull our Lephari up on board.
His rescuers are two fellows and a girl,
All rakish-looking, wearing red bandanas.
The lady holds a flask up to his lips.
Raw rum burns down his throat. He screams aloud.
"YOU TOADS! YOU MADE STRONG LIQUOR TOUCH MY LIPS!
I AM DIMINISHED FOR MY NOBLE TASK!"
"What? You don’t like our hospitality?"
A man inquires, with English accent strong.
"Perhaps you’d rather go back overboard
And feed the sharks?" "Oh, no," Lephari says.
"That would be suicide, a horrid sin
All the more horrid since I’m on a quest,
A sacred mission from the Lord Himself
To save the world from dread calamity,
The reign of PIAPS and the end of days -
There's no calamity more dread than that."
"Well, pleased to meet you," says the Englishman.
"We are the Newshounds of the Caribbean.
Here’s San-Fran Sergie, this is Pinchy Kim.
I’m Undisputed King of Lost Doubloons,
UKLD for short. Much feared our band,
Especially by the Rabid Rapture Right.
Off yonder island lies our jolly ship,
The Snakeskin Bentley. Come and join our band!
We’ll sail upon the warm and sunny seas,
And sleep on pearly beaches. Every night
We’ll have a jolly party on the beach
And laugh and sing and trash the Rabid Right."
"O WOE IS ME!" our poor Lephari cries.
I am a prisoner of the Jihad Left!
O LORD PRESERVE ME! Have I e’en escaped
From foul Leviathan’s appalling maw
And from the hungry teeth of hunting sharks,
To fall to PIAPS’ pirates and be doomed
To tortures vile and horrid cruelty?"
"I fear you are so doomed," says Kim. "We’ll start
The tortures now." The three link arms and sing
(Cosmoritas and a yo-ho-ho!)
We’ll put that turkey back in his place.
(Drinks all around and don’t be slow!)
The laughter echoes off the island, and
‘Tis answered from a crowd upon the shore.
Alas for poor Lephari! Is he doomed
To fun forevermore?
To be continued.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
When Judge Brenda Garcia asked how they pleaded, court-appointed defense attorney Milton Ravioli replied "Not guilty by reason of insanity," which got the crowd going again. Eventually the judge was able to get them calmed down and the District Attorney was able to lay out the case, which you had to admit was a very strong one. All that Hiram, speaking for the defendants, had to say in his defense was, "Yes, we was followin’ him, Yer Honor, but we didn’t kill him. He done turned into a vulture and flew off."
"Never mind that vulture idiocy," said the judge sternly. "Why were you following California Blat?"
The Moment Men did not answer. Jesse Earl opened his mouth but at a look from Hiram he lapsed into silence again.
"Answer me! Why were you following California Blat?"
"BECAUSE RALPH SENT THEM!" came a cry from the back of the courtroom. The crowd rose and turned - and broke into one collective gasp.
California Blat himself stood in the doorway, barefoot and unshaven, covered with a layer of dust, clad in a pair of ragged jeans, a torn tank top and a battered San Diego Padres baseball hat, but with his National Guitar still slung across his back. He now swung the guitar around, struck a chord and began to sing:
I’m alive and breathin’
So set these loonies free.
Old RALPH is on my trail
But he will never capture me
‘Cause I’m a mighty hero
(A mighty hero)
And he’s a big fat zero
Yes he is.
"You mean you’re not dead?" asked Judge Garcia rather stupidly.
"It takes more than a fall into the Grand Canyon and a week in the desert to kill California Blat," the returned hero replied. "The cloning has given me powers you can only begin to imagine. Look at this!" He took off his baseball cap and shook it, and to the amazement of the audience, coins and bills spilled out onto the floor. He picked them up, stuffed them into his pocket, and threw the cap carelessly at Hiram. "Here, take it - It’ll help pay Eustace’s hospital bills."
"It’s a miracle!" cried Jesse Earl.
"Nope," replied California Blat loftily. "It’s all in a day’s work for the Redneck Hippie. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m returning to the desert to seek the truth." And he walked out of the courtroom shouting, "MOMENT-MEN-LOVE! VULTURE-LOVE! DESERT-LOVE! CAMPAIGN-BLAT-LOVE! ALBERTO-GONZALES-LOVE!"
The Moment-Men are still sleeping off last night’s celebration, during which the baseball cap was emptied four times. Cletus did appear at around noon, looking very bleary-eyed, to make a statement to reporters. "After what done happened yesterday," he said, "we’re callin’ off the chase. How can you go harmin’ the man who saved your life? Jesse Earl thinks he’s Jesus Christ, and I’m beginnin’ to think he might be right. So I’m gonna call RALPH and tell him to find some other folks to do his dirty work. Dagnabbit, what happened to my cell phone? It won’t switch on. What do you mean, you gotta charge the battery? No, I ain’t got no battery charger. Mighta thrown it out. I threw out a lot of wires and things that came in that package. Well, whadaya know. Sumbitch."
Friday, September 21, 2007
- - - - -
Well, let me just say, first of all, that the atmosphere in the Club was absolutely so electric. The whole community has been abuzz ever since the Ethel Merman act - replica wigs popped up just overnight! - but the thing that has made Konservo so compelling is the way he has kept us all guessing. The closing night of the Merman act he came out to do the encore as Streisand. Completely took everyone by surprise! His rendition of The Way We Were among the tables, in one case actually climbing onto my friend Lionel's lap and crooning in his ear...so memorable, I can't begin to tell you. He's just always fresh.
The cheering and the calls of "Ser-VO! Ser-VO!" started a full five minutes before the stage lights finally came up on low. The fog machine started, cranking out clouds across the stage and into the audience, and the curtain went up to a full moon and glowing stars covering the backdrop. We heard ripples of harp music and a plaintive flute melody. And then, there he was, soaring above the stage from a flying rig, in one of those Sally-Field style nun's habits! He launched into Fly Me To The Moon and, I have to say, he had us in the palm of his adorably-manicured hand from the first notes.
The toilet brush can-can in the habit was probably the one number of the act that didn't work for me. But Konservo really made up for it in the second set. He had a whole backup chorus of novices who came out singing How Do You Solve a Problem Like Konservo? and by the time the striptease started, it had turned into an audience participation sing-along. I still have the rosary I caught when "Sister Inarticulata" tossed it into the audience.
In short, the new act definitely gets two thumbs up from me, and the rest of the audience seemed to agree. Chalk up another surefire hit to the Market's premiere drag act of 2007!
Monday, September 17, 2007
He’s vanished utterly.
His bones are bleachin' on the Grand Canyon floor
And the Moment Men will pay the penalty (poor boys)
They’re gonna pay an awful penalty.
For the Moment Men, it never rains but it pours. (It never rains in Arizona anyway, but you do realize it’s a metaphor.) Barely had they got Eustace settled into his hospital bed, when they were arrested and hauled into the Coconino County sherriff’s office for close interrogation.
You have to admit that appearances are against the Moment Men. As the chief interrogator, Detective Sergeant Finn MacCuhal (who came here from Ireland five years ago “for my asthma”) pointed out, dozens of witnesses saw them chasing California Blat out of the Market Plaza parking lot. The BlatMobile was found abandoned at the edge of the canyon, near the place where Park Rescue airlifted the Moment Men to safety.
“But we didn’t kill him!” protested Hiram. “He walked over the edge.”
“Then why haven’t we found him?” asked MacCuhal. “Because you went down there and disposed of the body, isn’t that so?”
“There weren’t never no body,” said young Jesse Earl Pickin (“Banjo” to his friends and “Booger” to his enemies). “The devil done turned him into a vulture. We seen him flyin’ off.”
Strange to say, Sergeant MacCuhal didn't believe Jesse Earl, and charged all the Moment Men with first-degree murder. When he emerged from the interrogation room he was shaking his head. “Sure I’ve seen some nutcases in my time, but this takes the biscuit, so it does.”
Hiram didn’t help matters when he made his one permitted phone call - to RALPH, of course. He’d forgotten to program RALPH’s number into his new cell phone, but he insisted he knew it from memory. But when he tried to dial it he got a pizza parlor, an escort service, an old man who spoke only Ukrainian and the Rolling Thunder Tabernacle (famous for its Roller Derby Worship Hour). Finally the police searched his truck and found the phone number, being used as a bookmark in a copy of The Laird of Lephari Cove.
RALPH maintained his cool admirably until he asked to speak to the detective in charge. When he heard Sergeant MacCuhal’s accent, he went through the roof. “I KNEW PIAPS WAS BEHIND THIS!!! SENDING AN IRA FENIAN DEMLIB TERRORIST TO DO HER DIRTY WORK!! THE WHOLE SHERIFF’S OFFICE SHOULD HAVE THEIR ASSETS FROZEN!! THEY SHOULD BE SHIPPED OFF TO GUANTANAMO!! THE COCONINO COUNTY SHERRIFF’S OFFICE HATES AMERICA!!!!! GO BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM, LIBTARD, AND TAKE THAT UNSPEAKABLE PIAPS WITH YOU!!!!”
“Did you say this guy was running for President?” asked Detective Sergeant MacCuhal as he hung up the phone. “You’d better plead insanity – the jury may just believe you.”
So now the Moment Men are at the Coconino County Detention Center awaiting their first court appearance (except for Eustace, whose hospital room is surrounded by armed guards). Since California Blat is a folk hero in these parts, the local residents are, to put it mildly, very upset. A small crowd gathered outside the jail last night, waving signs and chanting slogans. Radio talk-show lines are jammed with callers describing what they’d do to the Moment Men if they could. The unknown author of the “Blatwatch” blog has just announced an essay contest on the theme, “Why I’d like to Throw the Switch on the Moment Men.”
“All we can do is pray RALPH will step in,” said Hiram sadly. “Anyone got any cream soda?”
Saturday, September 15, 2007
He’s crazy as a loon
He’s riding down to the Grand Canyon now,
To meditate beneath a desert moon (oh yeah)
To seek the truth beneath a desert moon.
Having eluded the Moment Men’s roadblock on the outskirts of Las Vegas, California Blat might have gotten away altogether - but he just couldn't resist being the center of attention. When he reached Grand Canyon Village and saw the crowds of people in Market Plaza, he climbed onto the back of his red-white-and-blue GMC Sierra, and began haranguing them:
"I preach LOVE! LOVE!! LOVE!!! AMERICA-LOVE! FREEDOM-LOVE! TROOP-SURGE-LOVE! TROOP-REDUCTION-LOVE! BOMB-THE-SHIT-OUT-OF-IRAN-LOVE! SUCK-ON-THIS-TED-NUGENT-LOVE!!" He took an empty plastic bag out of his pocket and began pulling out handfuls of M&Ms-flavored trail mix, which he threw into the ever-growing crowd. "RAPTURE!!! God shall wipe away the tears from their eyes, and there shall be no more death. Nay, neither any bird flu nor high cholesterol nor erectile dysfunction. Not with VIBE vitamins, the cure for every ill. RAPTURE!! VOTE FOR RALPH!! HE NEEDS TO GET LAID!!! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!"
Now, if his audience had been local people, the Moment Men would never have heard of it, because Blat has become quite a folk hero in the desert. But these listeners were tourists, and as a result the news reached his pursuers’ ears so swiftly that he will still in mid-tirade when they roared into the plaza parking lot. "Oop! Gotta go," he said abruptly, leaped into the driver’s seat and gunned the truck onto the highway with the Moment Men right on his tailpipe.
Down Desert View Drive they flew, with the South Rim of the canyon on their left. They had gone about ten miles when the BlatMobile took a curve too wide, spun out of control, fishtailed across the highway and came to a stop at the very edge of the canyon. Blat crawled out to find the Moment Men and their sawed-off shotguns surrounding him, and a five-thousand-foot drop at his back.
"You gotta surrender now, Blat!" shouted Hiram. "You ain’t got no place else to go." But Blat merely laughed.
You ain’t gonna take me back to Crazy Ralph.
You ain’t got enough I.Q.
And where I’m goin’ you can’t follow me.
Good-bye and may the world be good to you (poor boys).
Good-bye and may the world be good to you."
Then he took a step backward and disappeared over the edge. The Moment Men ran as close as they dared and looked down - but the valley below was empty except for a very large vulture flapping lazily among the rocks.
They decided to go down, hoping to at least bring some of his shattered remains back to the Candidate. But they hadn’t gone far before Eustace Whazzup slipped, rolled downhill until he fetched up against a rock, and couldn’t get up again.
Eustace is now in traction at the Flagstaff Medical Center. "The doctors say he got a shattered femur," says Hiram. "Funny, I thought it was his thigh bone." They managed to get hold of RALPH, and the news of Blat’s disappearance cheered him up considerably - the distraught Sonny Brothers had just arrived with news of Lephari’s hideous fate. Searchers are still combing the bottom of the canyon for traces of California Blat, but so far without success. Meanwhile, the Moment Men have other concerns - since Eustace has no health insurance, what are they going to do about the astronomical hospital bills he’s accumulating?
Thursday, September 13, 2007
From the back cover:
- From the carriage window, fondling my toilet brush with misty memories of the previous evening's encounter, I watched him stride moodily across the headland, his mane of greasy hair whipped by the wind, his cloak flapping around his flip-flops. A flash of unexpected lightning threw his tortured form into a stark profile, as he threw his arms wide and cried to the brooding skies high above Lephari Cove: "PIAPS!!!! PIAPS!!!!!!!!!! AMERICA-HATE, DOUGHNUT-HATE, INSIGHTFUL-ANALYSIS-HATE, LEPHARI-COVE-HATE!!!!!!!! AAAAAGH!!"
RALPH's constant handlers, Über Troll and Campaign Blat, read a prepared statement from RALPH, to the effect that he appreciated Konservo's literary contribution to the cause, would be happy to autograph copies at campaign stops throughout the heartland, and would hereafter make all his public appearances in a long cloak and wide-brimmed, feathered hat. "No comment," was Blat's terse reply to the question of whether or not RALPH's ecclesiastical twin, the self-styled Prophet Lephari, approved of the novel. Lip-readers, however, keeping a careful eye on Über Troll as he flipped through the pages, mopping sweat off his brow and trying to keep his hands from shaking uncontrollably as he did, appeared to mutter "I don't think so..." under his breath.
Ghost-writer Aubergine is expected to take the novel on a nationwide Wal*Mart promotional tour. Konservo, unfortunately, will not be available, as he readies his new Ethel Merman tribute act for an October debut.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
"HEY, LET ME OUT, YOU ASSWIPE!!" yells Lephari.
He hammers on the ribcage of the beast
Who’s swallowed him. "I told you, let me out!
I am a Raptured minion of the Lord;
My clone’s the USA’s next President!"
"Don’t hammer me like that!" the monster says.
"It makes me queasy. Don’t you worry now.
I’m not about to eat you - not just yet.
I had to separate you from your friends
For I have something vital to impart."
"I KNOW IT! PIAPS SENT YOU!!" screams Lephari.
"YOU’LL NEVER HAND ME OVER TO HER!! No,
I’ll be no doughnut for her bumping, nor
Will I consent to be a sacrifice
Upon the altar of her filthy lusts!"
"What, you? A toy for anybody’s lusts?
Don’t make me laugh." The monster scoffs. "No, I
Have a far different task in hand for you.
Stop thumping in my stomach; I’ve a tale
To tell that calls for all of your attention.
"When the Great Flood abated, and when Noah
Set foot upon dry land again, the Lord
Sent him a rainbow, then said this to him -
This isn’t in the Bible, but it’s true -
Another gift I give you. In a vault
In a location I shall not disclose,
Lies that which, rightly used, will save the world
From perils dire. Since I’m a nasty God,
And like to make men work for their reward,
I won’t reveal its whereabouts exactly,
But I shall give you this enormous key
Of gold, with jewels and scrollwork all bedecked,
And I’ll give you as well this list of clues
(All cryptic, else the task would be no challenge).
And since I am a very nasty God
I won’t inform you what is in the vault,
Except that many centuries from hence
it may save mankind from calamity.
And Noah took the key and list; for centuries
He and his offspring kept them safe from harm,
Until, one fateful day, their caravan
Was robbed by brigands, who took list and key
and disappeared with them to who knows where.
But if you find them, then ‘tis you who may
Redeem us from calamity foretold."
"THE REIGN OF PIAPS!! THAT’S WHAT GOD FORETOLD!!
THE SIGN THAT ARMAGEDDON IS AT HAND!!!
AND I CAN SAVE THE WORLD FROM THIS? HOT DOG!!!
WHEN DO I START??"
And just as well, since if you had refused
My orders were to start digesting you.
Now brace yourself - get ready for a ride."
Lephari kneels inside the monster’s stomach,
And starts to say his prayers. Just as he folds
His hands before him, comes a mighty belch,
A wind most vile, which picks Lephari up,
And hurls him through Leviathan’s insides,
Through his esophagus and up his throat,
And bounces him off giant yellow teeth,
Into fresh air again..
Friday, September 7, 2007
Not that the pilgrimage got off to a very good start. Though Lephari had promised that he would drive every teacher who taught evolution out of the classroom, his early efforts in that direction weren’t very successful. At Abingdon Elementary School, the principal assured him, "We took evolution off the curriculum last year. We believe in God and America and freedom in this town, and we’ll tar and feather everyone who doesn’t agree with us." This pleased Lephari so much that he ordered Sonny White to break open the magic pinata. Unfortunately, all that came out was raw sheep liver and anchovies. This was when he realized that he had no control over what the pinata dispensed - it was at the whim of a higher power than he.
At Fairfield, his party triggered a security alarm when it tried to get into St. Brigid of the Hedge Clippers Primary School. The ensuing battle with police has already gone down in local folklore, particularly the attempt by Sonny Black and Sonny Green to heave one of the cops into a pile of cow manure, while Lephari roared out, “IOWA POLICE ARE TRUTH-HATING, BIBLE-HATING, AMERICA-HATING, NASCAR-HATING SERVANTS OF THE ANTICHRIST!!!” But thanks to their pepper spray, the police finally won the battle, pinning Lephari in a half-Nelson while holding off his followers with stun guns.
Miraculously, the Lephari Pilgrims did not get thrown in jail but were merely shown to the town’s borders. When they reached the next town, though, they discovered that the Fairfield police had put out an all-points warning about them, and that they were decidedly unwelcome anywhere in southeast Iowa. The pinata continued to be unforthcoming; all it dispensed in those days was vegetable compost, freeze-dried grasshoppers, and cat food. By the time they reached Keokuk, even the Sonny Brothers were grumbling.
I’ll let the Epic Poet tell the rest of the story.
“Be not disheartened!” bold Lephari cries.
“‘Tis we who shall be Raptured, while those turds
Are squashed within the Winepress of the Lord!
I am the great Lephari, and my powers
Put those of any Demlib cop to shame!
Behold! Before us lies the Mississippi,
The mightiest river in America.
The Lord will bear me up upon its waters.
Now watch, and worship me as I deserve!”
And as his followers exclaim in awe,
Lephari sets his foot upon the water.
Behold! The Mississippi bears him up!!!
He walks - he even dances - on its waves.
He lifts his arms and laughs maniacally.
But even as he laughs, the water boils -
A huge white head, an open-gaping maw,
A thrashing tail that churns up ten-foot waves -
It is Leviathan! A harbinger
Of Armageddon! When its mouth snaps shut
Lephari is no longer to be seen.
Directly, with a monstrous sucking sound,
A final flailing of its giant tail,
Leviathan sinks back into the deep,
And deathly silence falls...
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Anonymous sources within the campaign say that RALPH made his first approach to the teen beauty queen privately and delicately, by sending her a map outlining his path to her side, bearing "binoculars and hedge clippers," presumably so that he could trim her privet hedge and give her a better view of the roads and streets beyond so that she could find her way from the front door to the curb unaided.
Asked at a campaign stop at a Stuckey's along Interstate 77 what his intentions were toward Ms. Upton, RALPH responded: "THIS CAMPAIGN NEEDS A WOMAN'S TOUCH!!!! WE NEED SOMEBODY WHO'S NOT AFRAID TO PUT PLASTIC ON THE LAMPSHADES AND MAKE SURE WE BATHE OCCASIONALLY!!!! WE NEED A REAL U.S. AMERICAN WHO RECOGNIZES THAT NOT BEING ABLE TO FIND, LIKE, SUCH AS IRAQ ON A MAP IS PART OF WHAT MAKES THIS THE GREATEST COUNTRY EVER!!!! FOR THE FUTURE OF OUR CHILDREN SO THEY WON'T HAVE TO LIVE UNDER THE DEPRADATIONS OF PIAPS!!!!!!! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! SO TRUE!!!! SO TRUE!!!!"
In the background, Campaign Blat and Über Troll - busily repainting the campaign van with all the things RALPH was willing to HATE on Upton's behalf - seemed resigned to this turn of events. Blat shrugged expansively and continued his lettering, while Über Troll said only, "Damned if I know where this came from. I've only ever heard him talk this way about Bea Arthur. Oh, and Henry Kissinger."
Prophet Lephari, predictably, came out forcibly against the situation, insisting that this behavior put his alter ego in peril of missing the RALPHTURE and being led astray into DOUGHNUT-BUMPING and perhaps even FRITTER-SMASHING and CRULLER-BOUNCING. Konservo was said to be negotiating a long-term cabaret contract in Ottawa and could not be reached for direct comment, although some outlets are reporting that he has volunteered to perform gratis at the wedding should Upton accept RALPH's overtures.
Monday, September 3, 2007
He’s totally out of his mind.
He rides the desert in his pickup truck,
And the Moment Men are just a mile behind (oh yeah)
The Moment Men are just a mile behind.*
For the first time since California Blat started on his wild Love Ride through the desert, he's had a serious brush with RALPH’s Moment Men.
Tracking Blat to Las Vegas wasn’t too difficult, even for the Moment Men. But when they got there, they hesitated. As Moment Man Hiram T. Peashucker explained to this reporter, "We had to get ahold of RALPH, ‘cause we didn’t know what he wanted us to do with him. Just blow him away right then and there or bring him back? And we didn’t know where RALPH was so how could we git ahold of him?"
"But then when we got to Vegas," continued Darrell "Potato-Head" Oilslick, "the Lord gave us a inspire-ation. He told Hiram here in a dream, that all we need do was go into a store and git ourselves one of them there cell phones, and then we could just call RALPH ourselves."
It wasn’t quite that easy. It took a few days before the Moment Men figured out how to use their new cell phone. And after that they forgot RALPH’s phone number and rummaged through their gear for a whole day before they found it. Unfortunately, RALPH wasn’t able to provide them much guidance; he was reading articles about Konservo in Canada’s alternative press, and all he could say was, "THE RAPTURE IS AT HAND!!! THIS PROVES IT!! PIAPS IS PERVERTING MY LOYAL FOLLOWERS, AND NEXT SHE WILL BECOME PRESIDENT JUST AS I HAVE DESCRIBED IT IN MY BOOK!! AND THAT WILL SIGNAL THE END OF DAYS!! RAPTURE!!! RAPTURE!!! RAPTURE!!!" Then he hung up to send off more tracts to Bill O’Reilly and Sean Hannity, so that they would be converted in time for Armageddon.
In the end the Moment Men had to use their own limited initiative. Learning from a call girl that Blat was about to leave town and head for the Grand Canyon "to meditate on the infinite" they roadblocked Boulder Highway with their pickup trucks and stood there ready, shotguns in hand.
But when Blat came roaring up in his red, white and blue GMC Sierra they had the surprise of their lives. As the balladeer tells it:
California Blat put the pedal to the floor
And the truck rose up into the air.
It flew right over the Moment Men’s heads,
And all that they could do was stand and stare (poor boys)
All that they could do was stand and stare.
When they finally recovered their senses, the BlatMobile was nowhere to be seen. But Potato-Head thought he heard a voice from the distance shouting, "MOMENT-MEN-LOVE! REDNECK-AMBUSH-LOVE! SAWED-OFF-SHOTGUNS-LOVE!!"
They might have taken off after him - at least Clete Knothole urged them to do so - but at that moment a car full of drunken young men drove by and, seeing Clete’s beard, called out, "Holy shit! It’s ZZ Top!" The ensuing mob scene prevented them from immediate pursuit - and by the time they had autographed all the CDs, California Blat was long gone. The Moment Men decided to drown their disappointment at the bars and blackjack tables, so who knows how long it’ll be before they take up the pursuit again?
* Those who know the American outlaw ballad "John Hardy" can sing along.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
"No worries," another patron reassured. "The rate this guy is going, we will see everything from him by the time U.S. elections come to a close. Meanwhile - isn't it a helluva show?!"
This campaign correspondent was unfortunately leaving the campaign venue to file this report just as Konservo was inviting audience members to the stage to spank him with his own trademark toilet brush.
Saturday, September 1, 2007
The reaction from the RALPHTURE pilgrimage in Iowa was, as expected, far more vitriolic. After speaking in tongues for nearly half an hour - in what awed onlookers described as sounding like a recording of an Ann Coulter speech played backwards, including phrases such as "I swallowed Adam's Apple - now that's creationism for you!" and "William Kristol is so hot!" - Prophet Lephari denounced Konservo in harsh terms, declaring that unless he repents and embraces the RALPHTURE, he will be cast "INTO THE LAKE OF FIERY TABASCO FROM WHICH THERE IS NO COOLING RETURN TO DELICIOUS, JIGGLY JELL-O!!" At that point he fed the masses from a seemingly bottomless bucket of artificially-flavored lime Jell-0 in which slices of ripe banana - which he denied had originated in Cuba - were suspended.
As Konservo had no reply to either campaign's denunciation, his many Canadian fans are eagerly flocking to the Market on this holiday weekend, hoping for a return to his former routine.