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Many gracious thanks.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader thanks each and every one of you who wished him a happy birthday. Special thanks must go to the Poet Laureate and the AirMarshal for their birthday posts.

For the record, everything in the Poet Laureate’s post is true. And only part of what the AirMarshal wrote is… Heh…

In case you were interested, Yahoo provides a completely meaningless listing of facts associated with your Maximum Leader’s birthday. The History Channel also has such a page.

All in all, the day has been a good one. Among the tribute received by your Maximum Leader were some books, some DVDs, and a record. The Villainettes informed their sainted father that he would be receiving a photo of Ronald Reagan to be framed and matted with the Laying-in-State card he got at the US Capitol. So that is something which will be greatly anticipated.

Of course, what your Maximum Leader didn’t get was a photo (or even a photoshop forgery) of a beautiful female reader wearing a Nakedvilainy Thong or T-shirt (or both). Sadly that gift will have to wait for another time… (Female minions, remember! Any day you send a photo of yourself to your Maximum Leader is a good day for your Maximum Leader.)

Now we must all await the arrival of the wee Villain. Which should happen at any moment now…

Carry on.

Happy Birthday to the Dude Man Himself

Well, I wrote a Friar’s Roast type of post slamming good old MaxLdr, but in light of his Alcoholism, Upcoming obscenity trial, and failing health, I thought I’d just take a stroll down memory lane.

Althought I’ve known him since 1982 or so… he’s only been cool since 1986, so I’ll start there.

- Summer 1986. ML enlists our help to aid in his parent’s move to another townhouse.

- Winter Spring 1986/87. ML, myself and another friend appear twice on It’s Academic on TV. The first time, we trounce two other teams. The second time we get trounced by Catholic High School girls. Didn’t help that one was playing footsie with ML under the podium

- Spring 1987. ML organizes a high school trip to New York for a Model United Nations. The rest of us party it up and try to sabatoge it. He takes it seriously. His loss. For the record, it was I who threw the butthole surfers tape out of the 14th story window. It was also I who sent threatening messages to the South African ambassador.

- Also Spring of 1987. ML makes an English teacher cry. Just to show that he can.

- Summer 1987. ML enlists our help to aid in his parent’s move to another townhouse.

- Thanksgiving 1987. ML comes home from college dressed like something out of Miami Vice. (”Friends” makes fun of this in flashbacks FYI… with Chandler and Ross). ML also has a mustache about 3 years before he should have even tried to grow one. It looked like Chocolate milk on his upper lip. Coupled with the wrinkled flannel jacket with the sleeves rolled up, he’s a vision of the 80’s. After absorbing a decade’s worth of abuse from us in one night, we never, ever see the outfit again. He refuses to shave though.

- Summer 1988. ML enlists our help to aid in his parent’s move to another townhouse.

- Summer 1989. ML’s parents finally BUY a damn townhouse. ML enlists our help to aid in his parent move to said townhouse.

- Summer 1989. Boasting how he never got sick on alcohol, ML spent a night in Blacksburg puking his guts out after polishing off a fifth of Glenfiddich and playing SuperMario brothers. I have since heard him boast of never getting sick on alcohol. Uh huh. Sure.

- Summer 1989. Running by the GOP Governor’s headquarters prior to a Grateful Dead concert, ML and I run into the late Lee Atwater. ML stutters like an idiot, but later will recount to listeners how at that meeting, he gave Atwater the strategy for the 1992 campaign. Atwater’s brain then explodes, and Clinton becomes president.

- Summer 1991. After five years as a leech on friends with cars, ML is finally forced to learn to drive due to a job. He uses my new car to take the test, and promptly buys a manly little red civic. He gets a vanity tag though, to protect his macho ego.

- Late December 1994. After watching Peyton Manning dismantle my Va Tech Hokies in the Gator Bowl, we have a fun filled day in DisneyWorld. Amazingly fun road trip.

- Summer 1995. Recuperating from major knee surgery (no joke) after seriouly blowing out my knee while rollerblading slowly on a straight and level surface (no joke), ML and BigHo come to visit me and spend the weekend waiting on my every whim and need.

- Late Summer 1995. ML and I take a cross country roadtrip including stops at Graceland (where I refused to enter), The Grand Canyon, and Las Vegas. It was in Vegas where ML vanished for four hours in the middle of the night. I noticed we had to stop by a pharmacy for some penicillin the following morning, and that cold sore took forever to go away.

- September 1997. In my Blacksburg appartment, I et a phone call from ML from the hospital. He’s holding his newborn baby girl in his arms and blubbering about how beautiful his baby is. I’ve never heard him so sentimental, emotional, and heartfelt. I teased him about it for a while. Then in April 2001, holding my new baby girl in my arms, I finally understood what he was saying, and I have teased him no more. About this instance, that is. I tease him all the time about everything else.

- Spring 1999. Serving as Godfather to ML’s second daughter, I had visions of the Christening being a somber occasion as in the film “Godfather” where we exacted revenge upon our enemies while renouncing satan. Two problems. We have no real enemies, and neither one of us really felt like renouncing satan. The other problam was that baby E puked all over my wife.

- May 2001. Being an Agnostic married into a quasi-psycho Catholic family, religion is a challenge for me, and the Christening of my daughter was an especilly tough day. ML and especially Mrs. Villain did a phenomenal task of making the day easier on me. The priest delivered a homily in which he told the parish they didn’t have the right to think or read scripture for themselves, and then he got mean. I remember feeling sick to my stomach, looking over my shoulder at ML, and another close friend who both gave me looks that were at once sympathetic and absurd. It made the day a little easier.

- May 2004. ML agrees to be the Godfather for my soon-to-be born daughter MH (due in July). I hope that she returns the favor and pukes all over him…all will have come full circle…

in honor of the Maximum Leader’s BIRTHDAY (June 15)

I write you now in my capacity as Poet Laureate of the Mike World Order. Today, fellow minions, we celebrate the holy birth of our Maximum Leader, and as you do every year on this most auspicious day, you gather outside the awe-inspiring Villainschloss, rain or shine, and listen with rapt attention as I recite vignettes from the adventurous life of our Maximum Leader.

BIRTH

Your Maximum Leader was born of two great cosmic forces: Time and Struggle. He shot like a lightning bolt out of his mother’s eye socket and declared, “I am prophet, sage, lover, and leader of you all.” All the creatures in the cosmos sang with joy and paid the Maximum Leader obeisance, bestowing on him the Crown of Might, the Shield of Justice, the G-String of Cleverness, and the Codpiece of Eternal Glory.

But the dwarves did not do obeisance, and they brought no gifts, and for this they were cursed to be forever and roundly beaten by the Maximum Leader and all his loyal minions. In time, the dwarves repented of their stubbornness, but to this day the Maximum Leader does not forgive tem their primordial transgression.

ADOLESCENCE

The Maximum Leader had been out spearhunting all day. It was during a period of rest that he happened upon a beautiful, perfectly circular lake inside a volcanic crater, and he decided to bathe. All the creatures in the cosmos were curious, for they had never seen their Maximum Leader in his majestc nakedness before. But it is forbidden for all but the Maximum Leader’s betrothed to behold him in his pristine state. The creatures gathered around the lip of the crater, straining to see what no mortal had ever beheld, and when the Maximum Leader removed Codpiece and G-String, they were struck blind and overcome with mortal agony. As all the creatures writhed about in pain, they screamed,

Praise Him!
Though we be struck blind,
and unable to find our way back to our homes,
though we be likely to die horrible deaths
from starvation and simple neglect,
all praise and honor unto our Maximum Leader!
He taketh away our sight
But our loyalty remaineth steadfast!
Lo, the pink-nippled virgins sit at their lyres
a loveliness we cannot behold
singing sweet rhapsodies in honor of His blinding glory!
Praise Him!

EARLY ADULTHOOD

It was during the Maximum Leader’s many hunts for wild boar (the symbol you see on the banner of Naked Villainy) that he met his friends, who in time became the Ministers of the Mike World Order.

To the Minister of Propaganda, the Maximum Leader bestowed the Horn of Naysaying and Contrariness.

To the Foreign Minister, the Maximum Leader bestowed the Righthammer.

To the Minister of Agriculture, the Maximum Leader bestowed the Cow of Plenty.

To the Air Marshal, the Maximum Leader bestowed the Missile of Priapism.

To the Poet Laureate, the Maximum Leader bestowed the Golden Anus of Chaos.

Since those glorious days, the Horn, the Hammer, the Cow, the Missile, and the Anus have stood as symbols of the munificence and magnanimity of the Maximum Leader’s reign. Every child is branded with at least three of these symbols, one brand upon the sternum and two upon the buttocks. And every child’s shriek is a shriek of praise for our Maximum Leader.

THE MAXIMUM LEADER BEDS HIS BETROTHED

How famous is the tale of the Maximum Leader’s seduction of his woman!

Cleverly hiding his manhood inside a bouquet of flowers, the Maximum Leader invited his loved one to choose her favorite from among them. Of course, she chose the largest and veiniest purple flower in the bunch, struck by its strangeness. “It has a terrible aspect,” she whispered, “I shall pluck it and keep it in my chambers as a symbol of the changing fortunes of this world.” But she proved unable to pluck the flower, no matter how she tried, and the flower grew larger and larger still with each successive attempt.

Soon the ruse could no longer be sustained, and the bouquet was destroyed by the flower’s sheer massiveness. And because she was the chosen of the Maximum Leader, she was not blinded by the sight of it, but instead rode it for all it was worth. Her words during her moment of climax have been preserved for all time:

“FILL ME UP, YOU MAGNIFICENT BASTARD!”

And these are the sacred words we recite in prayer before every breakfast and every supper, to remind us that indeed we are all filled with the Maximum Leader’s goodness and beneficence.

THE MAXIMUM LEADER HEARS THE CRIES OF HIS PEOPLE

It was in the aftermath of one of the worst storms to strike the realm that the Maximum Leader stood upon the highest parapet of the Villainschloss and surveyed the plight of his people with the eyes of an eagle. Maddened with grief by what he beheld, he threw several dozen dwarves off the tower, and they fell to their doom, shouting, “Praise Him!” all the while.

The Maximum Leader was too impatient to allow his many able-bodied minions to assist in reparations. Straightaway, he ran down the parapet, Codpiece glinting in the torchlight, and burst out the front gates of te Villainschloss to assist his stricken people in any way he could.

One woman, whose young son was trapped beneath an overturned carriage, cried, “Save my child!” With a single flex of his mighty buttocks, the intrepid Maximum Leader forced the carriage off the child, then claimed the child as his own and took him forthwith to the Villainschloss.

On that day, the Maximum Leader saved over twenty thousand of his people through various buttock-flexes, penis-pushups, and cleverly applied cunnilingus– the latter technique producing the loudest cries of “Praise Him!”

But the Other Kingdom saw the realm’s strife as an opportunity to attack. While the Maximum Leader’s people busied themselves with repairs and rebuilding, the soldiers of the Other Kingdom stormed into our glorious realm. None of our fighting men were ready to defend hearth and home.

And in truth, all would have been lost that day, had it not been for the Maximum Leader, who faced that evil horde with only his Ministers at his side. With a great cry, the Maximum Leader charged forward. He and his loyal Ministers were only six against an army of fifty thousand, and yet they prevailed.

The silver-tongued Minister of Propaganda duped whole battalions of the enemy army into believing that there was no real danger, that this was not, in truth, a war. As they sat docilely, the Minister of Agriculture came upon them with his fierce and noble Cow of Plenty, who inundated the battalions with a horrifying torrent of equal parts milk and dung.

The Foreign Minister stood his ground, and with every blow he smashed dozens upon dozens of the enemy with the Righthammer, which always knocked opponents to the left of the wielder. The Foreign Minister waded through the army, granting a quick and merciful death to all who came too close.

The Air Marshal summoned flying steeds and rained death onto the armies from above, his Missile of Priapism causing massive arousal– and subsequent immobility– in the army of the enemy. His flying steeds dropped clusters of screaming, explosives-laden dwarves, decimating untold numbers of soldiers.

The Poet Laureate leapt, spun and dodged among the enemy, his Golden Anus of Chaos sowing confusion and disgust in an ever-widening circle of death. A single clench of that golden sphincter imploded the heads of the enemy army’s generals, and the path was then clear for the Maximum Leader to challenge the King of the Other Kingdom to a one-on-one duel, for the King himself was leading the battle against our realm.

The ensuing combat was terrible to behold. At several points the loyal Ministers begged to come to their Maximum Leader’s aid, but with a scowl and a stern warning, the Maximum Leader commanded his Ministers to stay back. The battle lasted seven days. The earth trembled, demons fled, and smoke rose from great fissures that suddenly appeared in the ground. But the outcome was never in doubt. The Maximum Leader fought with all the cleverness of his G-String, all the might of his Crown, all the justice of his shield, and all the glory of his Codpiece. In the end, the King of the Other Kingdom was beaten. He dropped to his knees, and the Maximum Leader yelled, “Close your eyes!” to his faithful Ministers, whereupon he beheaded the King with a single swipe of his ponderous manhood. Only I, your Poet Laureate, refused to close my eyes, and I beheld the terrible event by staring at the shadows on the ground. The evil King’s head rolled to a stop in front of me and recited its death poem:

Felled was I by phallus-foe
My soul now flees to realms below
Truly hast thou beaten me
Hang my body on a tree
Leave me there for all to point
With my blood your folk anoint
Be at peace, this realm divine
What was my Kingdom, now is THINE!

A cry arose from the people, and they rejoiced at this great victory. I tell you, many a dwarf was beaten in celebration that evening.

And from that day to this, the realm has enjoyed boundless peace and limitless prosperity. That is why, on this day, this auspicious Day of All Days,we gather in celebration of our Maximum Leader’s birth– child of Time and Struggle, Protector of the Realm, Vanquisher of the Other Kingdom.

Praise Him!

_

Happy 10th anniversary!

How could we all miss it? 6/12/94 were the OJ murders. 10 years ago this past Saturday.

So now I raise my glass and toast one of the greatest travesties in American justice I’ve ever seen.

Here’s to you OJ. You and your lawyers taught us all that justice can be bought. Here’s to you OJ. Your attorneys set racial relations in America back 20 years, and did as much to tarnish the reputation of the legal profession as anyone in the past century. Oh how it warmed my heart to see African Americans cheering the release of OJ. “It wasn’t just about that case, it was an indictment of blah blah blah in America.” You still let a cold blooded murderer go free to make a point? Here’s to you OJ, you and your jury taught us how dumb as rocks Americans can be. Here’s to you OJ. You are a wife beater, a liar, a murder, an asshole and a bad actor. And you are free.

Cheers.

First, kill all the lawyers

Closure

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader wanted to take one more post to close out some of his thoughts on Ronald Reagan.

Earlier in the week, your Maximum Leader recounted his one minute with President Reagan. Then the made a few more observations. Then he admitted that he shed tears during the state funeral when Dick Cheney (of all people) spoke. He also said he was going to go to DC to pay his respects to Reagan.

Well, your Maximum Leader did go to Washington, to the Capitol, and did pay his respects to Ronald Reagan. It was a very moving experience. It was also sort of fun. Your Maximum Leader met a number of interesting and engaging people. None of the people he met were from the greater Washington DC area. They were from California, New Jersey, Tennessee, South Carolina, and so many other states. They were from all different political persuasions. (For example: your Maximum Leader’s new friend from California, Renee is by no means a Reagan Reublican - heck, she’s not even a Republican. NB to Renee if you are reading this: if you can get that tape of us in the Rotunda to your Maximum Leader, he would appreciate it greatly. And he hopes your flight back to Calif. was a without incident.) But everyone who came shared a few common thoughts on the experience. They wanted to be part of history, and they wanted to pay respects to a man who changed America. (You may judge for yourself the positive or negative qualities of the change, but there was change.)

Your Maximum Leader made it through the line if five hours. If you happened to be watching C-Span around 1:30am on Friday, June 11 you would have caught a glimpse of your Maximum Leader filing through the Capitol Rotunda near the flag-draped coffin of President Reagan. For all the time we waited, there were few if any complaints. The lines moved almost continuously. There was plenty of water (most of it warm) along the line to combat the hot muggy temperature.

When your Maximum Leader finally got into the Rotunda he had a feeling of the place being small. He has been through the Capitol Rotunda hundreds of times. It is a grand soaring space. It tends to dwarf people. Of course, like the baroque architecture of the old world, the Rotunda is supposed to dwarf people. To make you feel smaller compared to the grandeur of the American Republic. The statues of great Americans (like Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and King) are larger than life. They all look down from their pedestals at the visitor. (Except Martin Luther King, Jr.’s, which is large, but at eye level.) If you look up, you see the great fresco of “the Apotheosis of Washington.” It shows George Washington being greeted by the heavenly hosts. It is an awesome place. Indeed, your Maximum Leader remembers feeling proud and awestruck being there on other occasions.

But this night it seemed a bit small for the occasion. The first thing one saw after climbing the stairs from the west front of the Capitol was the President’s casket on the catafalque. It seemed very large in the space. Then your eyes moved to the honour guard. Silent. Motionless. Emotionless. The soliders and sailors who performed that duty were magnificent. Then your eyes traveled around the Rotunda. Hamilton, Lincoln, Grant, Garfield all looking down at the casket in the center of the chamber. Washington, Jackson, Grant, looking distantly over the casket and the mourners. Then you looked back to the casket. As one regarded it, it seemed very large. It seemed to fill the space, and make it seem smaller.

Slowly we all filed past. We received our visitation cards. Then the crowds dispersed into the night. It was somehow a fitting start for the beginning of the last day of public remembrance.

The national funeral service was excellent. Margaret Thatcher’s eulogy was superlative. George H.W. Bush’s eulogy was also superb. Unfortunately, President George W. Bush’s speech was rather forgettable. One would have thought that he might have had some of the old Reagan people help a little on it. And President Bush has delivered good speeches in the past. But in this case, he was overshadowed by all the other speakers. Your Maximum Leader cried during Thatcher’s videotaped speech. And he continued to do so through former-President Bush’s eulogy. He was able to control himself during Mulroney’s and President Bush’s remarks.

As far as the eulogies are concerned for the week here are your Maximum Leader’s thoughts on them. Your Maximum Leader thought that Margaret Thatcher’s was by far the best. Thatcher’s is followed closely by Ron Reagan’s (even with the jibe at President Bush) and George H.W. Bush’s. The came Vice-President Cheney’s remarks. All of the others were not very memorable. (And frankly, in a few months, Cheney’s may not be all that memorable.) Thatcher’s eulogy put Reagan into a historical context and illustrate the greatness of the man. George H.W. Bush’s and Ron Reagan’s put a human face on the man and showed how Reagan could change people. Cheney’s struck a number of different chords and wasn’t as political as the others delivered at the state funeral. And the others were rather plain.

The “private funeral” in California was a masterpiece of imagery. It looked spectacular. Your Maximum Leader is sure that the two lasting images he will forever have in his mind of the past week’s events are looking at the casket under the Capital dome; and seeing the casket, on the bier at the library in California - bathed in the shimmering gold light of the sun setting over the Pacific. If 1984 was “Morning in America,” this was surely sunset in America. It was a fitting sunset indeed.

Now our official mourning is ended. We can go back, and we have gone back, to thinking about all of the issues we thought about before last Saturday. As more of Reagan’s papers are released and reviewed we will gain even more historical perspective on this great man. Your Maximum Leader hopes that we will one day be able to find a national leader who embodies the optimistic spirit that Reagan did.

Carry on.

Another sign of the decline of civilization…

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader was perusing the news wires and found this: Mad monk’s member features big in Russian erotica museum.

Now your Maximum Leader wasn’t surprised when the sex museum opened in NYC. We are, after all, growing more accepting of sex despite our nation’s sometimes puritanical instincts. But the Russians? Humm… Perhaps it is all those years of repression under the Soviets?

And what the the provenance on a Rasputin penis? On second thought, your Maximum Leader doesn’t want to know.

Carry on.

RE: A different opinion

I dunno if I’d go so far as to say Reagan was a bad president. But the assertion that he was a uniting force in America is absurd. Reagan did more than his fair share to fertilize the divisiveness that came to a head in the Clinton years, and is currently festering in the pathetic administration we have in office at the moment.

One thing I will say about Reagan is that he posessed a certain subtlety and style that makes Dubya look like a clumsy pre-schooler with a lisp.

A different opinion

Reagan was a bad President.

Apologies to the Maximum Leader, but someone has to say it.

Still suffering from media-induced am nesia? Round out your memories of the ol’ Gipper legacy by reading this, this, this and this. And I’ll buy this book for any minister who will read it.

Believe.

NO! Surely not!

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader is shocked! Shocked to discover that Republicans in Congress are thinking now that perhaps they shouldn’t spend taxpayer money like drunken sailors. (No offence intended if you are a drunken sailor.) It is good to see that Congress is beginning to realize they can’t just spend and spend and spend.

Congressional oversight is good. (Partisan takeover of oversight hearings is bad though.) Your Maximum Leader will wait to see how this one pans out.

Carry on.

RE: With Friends Like These

Is this the Same Putin who brought us Chechnya, and wants to bring back a Soviet-esque Russian Empire? Great guy to have agree with us.

With friends like these…

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader will let this article speak for itself. Putin Takes Bush’s Side Against Democrats on Iraq.

Carry on.

Mike Isn’t the Only One…

To use the Napoleonic Wars as romantic allegory.

Gentlemen, I give you Bananarama:

My my (my my) at Waterloo Napoleon did surrender,
Oh yeah (oh yeah) and I have met my destiny in quite a similar way:
The history book on the shelf
Is always repeating itself.

Waterloo,
I was defeated, you won the war,
Waterloo,
Promise to love you for ever more;
Waterloo,
Couldn’t escape if I wanted to,
Waterloo,
Knowing my fate is to be with you,
Woh-woh-woh-woh-Waterloo,
Finally facing my Waterloo.

My my (my my) I tried to hold you back but you were stronger,
Oh yeas (oh yeah) and now it seems my only chance is giving up the fight,
And how could I ever refuse,
I feel like I win when I lose.

Waterloo,
I was defeated, you won the war,
Waterloo,
Promise to love you for ever more;
Waterloo,
Couldn’t escape if I wanted to,
Waterloo,
Knowing my fate is to be with you,
Woh-woh-woh-woh-Waterloo,
Finally facing my Waterloo.

And how could I ever refuse,
I feel like I win when I lose.

Waterloo,
Couldn’t escape if I wanted to,
Waterloo,
Knowing my fate is to be with you;
Woh-woh-woh-woh-Waterloo,
Finally facing my Waterloo,
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh,
Waterloo,
Knowing my fate is to be with you,
Woh-woh-woh-woh-Waterloo,
Finally facing my Waterloo.

UPDATE FROM YOUR MAXIMUM LEADER: Bannanarama!?!?!?! Try Abba. After the Abba version (or should your Maximum Leader say versions?) all others are pretenders.

Darn Conscience

BigHo is at post 999. Do I steal the 1000th post? I want to, but it just seems wrong.

I knew Thomas Jefferson….

I don’t know how one would determine the best words ever written, but I would nominate the following exerpt from the Declaration of Independence.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. –That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, –That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.

More to the point, I just felt like reading it into the record.

Why we’re better than the French

Brigitte Bardot’s in trouble for inciting hatred of Muslims. What did she do? She called Muslims “invaders, cruel and barbaric” in a book. And for this, she was CONVICTED of inciting racial hatred.

In America, to get her convicted, Muslims would have to go to court and prove that they aren’t “invaders, cruel and barbaric.” I mean, what if they actually are “invaders, cruel and barbaric”? Then it’s not exactly fair to the geriatric sex kitten, is it?

I quote

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”

Freedom of Speech. What a concept. Even for morons.

To read more about why the US is better than France, click here, here and here.

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