Wednesday, November 16, 2005

What a long strange trip

From Uzbekistan to Narita

Well, it turns out I needn't have worried about that caravan approaching up the valley. They were not a JDerion-led death squad, but a contingent of CIA and US State Department operatives desperately hoping I'd help them out with a little problem.

Good thing too, because I never did find my kalashnikov in that whore house.

It's a long story, but they came to ask me to join President Bush's diplomatic mission to Asia, which will be capped by extremely important high level discussions in Beijing.

The bottom line is President Bush has a notorious reputation in diplomacy. He routinely forgets the names of his counterparts from other countries.

For example, at last years Chilean APEC conference, the President persistently addressed China's President Hu Jintao as, 'Cowboy', as in the following off the cuff statement he made to the assembled press: "Good ol' President, er, Cowboy, and myself just discussed my opinion that he should allow more US exports to China, especially guns and tanks."

For reasons not entirely clear to me, career diplomats find this kind of talk embarrassing.

So I agreed to help them and caught a CIA transport out of Uzbekistan, landing at Andrew's AFB just in time to board Air Force One. There I was given a Stewards' uniform and instructions to frequently service the presidential cabin.

For his part, President Bush was instructed to address me as 'Hu Jintao' each time he saw me. Other 'stewards' had joined the flight to play surrogates for other heads of state in Japan and Korea. The hope was this would burn the names of these important people on President Bush's, lips so that by the time we arrived in Asia, the names would be second nature.

But by 3 hours into the flight President Bush was hopelessly confused, and had reverted to addressing us all as, "cowboy" each time he saw us.

So we simply chilled out in the press cabin, becoming involved in a vicious high stakes scrabble game with an AP pool reporter and some hack from the Washington Post.

When we landed in Japan, the State Department functionary responsible for the plan learned of our failure and became livid.

She called a taxi, and gave us each a $1000 voucher for return travel.

So I'm in the Narita terminal, pondering my next move.


JDerion! Ah Ha! said...

You thought you could elude my relentless hunt! As the old saying goes, you can run but you can't run forever because eventually you will get well tired! Ah ha! At last, I will deliver justice by tearing your still beating heart from the place on your body where you keep your heart, and then I will show your heart to your eyes! But first, I have to tell you about the amazing day I had today, in Djibouti of all places!

Yes, I awoke this morning in the usual way, by opening my eyes. Then I decided to head into Djibouti City to find some action and hunt for my arch nemesis, you! Little did I know that today was the day of the annual Djibouti Dog Punching Contest! As you may remember from my many colorful tales on, I am three times club champion dog puncher at my home club in New Jersey! Did you know that New Jersey is home to the tallest water tower in the world? No? Well it's true! Did you know that New Jersey is home to the famous Fort Dix, and that Fort Dix isn't named for a bunch of penis's? I swear it! Oh, I know so many wonderful things about New Jersey. I'll be happy to share them with you as you draw your last breath! But my oh my, as they say on, I think I have "threadjacked" myself! I was talking about my dog punching skills!

It has been said that my dog punching form is so pure, so exact, that even the angels in heaven cry tears of joy when I deliver a right cross to an unsuspecting dachshund! Well, not all the Angels, just the dead ones, like Donnie Moore and Gene Mauch. Speaking of which, is Doug DeCinces dead yet? Boy I hope so, after what he did to Peggy Flemming and Nell Carter, he deserves nothing less than blader's fate, Allah willing. Hold on, let me pray. Dear Allah, please kill Doug DeCinces if you haven't killed him already. Thanks alot. Anyway, I digress, like I was saying, I am one of the finest dog punchers in all of the land, so when I saw that Djibouti City had a dog punching contest I knew this would be like taking candy from a baby (which is easy because babies are very weak, and quite stupid too).

Brimming with confidence I walked up to pay my entry fee! I said to the gentleman working the dog punching contestant entry table, in Djibouti language, "Unga bunga, walawoo, dog punching?" (It is worth noting that my dog punching skills are rivaled by my mastery of many languages, including french, spanish, Italian, Djibouti talk, english, irish, american, swiss, and provolone). The man looked back at me, our eyes met, and I said "Well you can tell by the way I use my walk, I'm a woman's man, no time to talk. Music loud and women warm, I'll beat the crap out of a dog and take your trophy." With that I flexed, plunked down some random currency to pay my entry fee, and the strutted to the staging area. There would be no stopping me today!

Ok, well actually, to say that there would be no stopping me is somewhat of an overstatement. You see, after warming up in the Djibouti sun, shadow boxing, and masturbating for an hour or so, I was quite geared up to lay a sound beating on some dogs. I began pacing, like a caged animal that walks back and forth and back and forth and back and forth, and then it happened! There he was, what could he be? He's glorious, and begging to be beaten like a drum! Oh, I haven't felt this energized since I knocked out that Staffordshire Bull Terrier in my first competition! Yes, yes, of course, a weimaraner! Oh, sweet serendipity! Never before have I had the good fortune to punch the lights out of a weimaraner! Could it be as good as I had heard! Well there was one way to find out!

Like a professional american football player who is small and is paid to use his foot to make the ball go in the air and through the yellow things at the end of the field before leaping into the arms of his adoring, yet physically imposing teammates, I stepped off three paces. Assuming an athletic position and staring down my opponent, I could feel my fist clinch! Then, with the explosive move that only a champion dog puncher has, I sprung at the hapless canine and unloaded with incredible precision. If Jeff Torborg was dead he would be weeping like it was the end of "Terms of Endearment!" Well, this is where it gets sketchy for your friend and narrator! Suddenly I felt a solid thump on me head! The last time I felt something like that I would up riding in the back of a Volvo for like two weeks!

The next few hours are a bit foggy. In and out of consciousness, I lay helpless, like a Tibetan Mastiff after messing with yours truly. I awoke to find myself in a makeshift jail surrounded by villainous thugs! A dodgy looking Shriner sporting a wicked cool fez and a bad case of halitosis approached me. I was taken aback, I know what happens in prisons like this! He probably wanted to do prison sexy on me! He came right up to me and we exchanged words...

Shriner: No I’m never gonna do it without the fez on.

Me: Oh no?

Shriner: No I’m never gonna do it without the fez on.

Me: Oh no!

Shriner: That’s what I am.

Me: Please understand!

Shriner: I wanna be your holy man. No I’m never gonna do it without the fez on.

Me: Oh no?

Shriner: Ain’t never gonna do it without the fez on.

Me: Oh no!

This continued on for some time, as Donald Fagen songs tend to do, and then it struck me, I knew what to do! I grabbed his fez and threw it out of our cell! "Sh1tballs!" he exclaimed! Without his fez on, I knew he had no power to do it! Knowing he was thoroughly outsmarted, the Shriner sat down and wept. I made fun of his hat-head for a while and then had sex with him. Hey, I felt bad, he was so pathetic and weepy! And as my mom always said, "It ain't gay if you don't enjoy it!" It turns out that good fortune was smiling on me because the Shriner had much information to share with me.

First things first, it turns out that it wasn't a dog punching contest after all. I guess my mastery of Djibouti-talk is not as thorough as I thought, and I had actually walked into a wedding, uninvited! To make matters worse, the bride just happened to look like a weimaraner! Oh, what are the odds of that happening? Anyway, it was all beginning to make sense now, thanks to my friend the Shriner (his name is actually Bill). I told him about my quest to kill blader, and as you might imagine, he knew of blader and hated him too! Unbelievable you say? Not at all, I remember it like it was today, because it was! "Hey Bill!" I said.....

Bill: Yes sweetheart?
Me: I'm looking for blader, do you know of him?
Bill: Yes, of course, here in Morocco...
Me: Djibouti!
Bill: Gesundheit!
Me: Huh?
Bill: Here in Morocco...
Me: Djibouti!
Bill: Gesundheit!
Me: Go on. (What an idiot, this guy doesn't even know where he is)
Bill: Here in Morocco, we hate blader more than poison.
Me: The band Poison, or the poison, poison?
Bill: That's a good question. Well, the poison, poison for sure. As for the band, I kind of like that "Every Rose Has It's Thorn" song, you know?
Me: Oh, no doubt. It makes me want to find my feathered roach clip and a lighter.
Bill: Oh my God, I totally know what you mean!
Me: We have so much in common.
Bill: I know, I can't believe we just met. It seems like we've known each other forever.
Me: Do you like gum?
Bill: Like it! I love it!
Me: Oh my God! We are soul mates!
Bill: Ok, ok, I have to ask you this; what is your favorite star?
Me: Altair, of course!
Bill: Oh.
Me: What? Did I say something wrong?
Bill: No, no, it's just that I was sure you would say Rigel.
Me: *Laughs* Rigel is crap star! It sucks worse than Procyon for Mohammed's sake!
Bill: Don't say that again!
Me: What are you going to do, cry again?
Bill: Please, no more fighting, I can't take anymore. I just want to be loved!
Me: Ok, tell me about blader.
Bill: Yes, in Morocco, we hate blader more than poison.
Me: Me too, he is a dastardly tea bagger, he is!
Bill: Worse than that, he gave all of our women crabs, and all of our men breast implants!
Me: That explains a lot, actually. I was going to ask you about that.
Bill: Eh, yeah, it's not so bad really.
Me: Say, you hate blader more than poison, what other bad things aren't as bad as blader?
Bill: We have a list here in Morocco. It's called the list of 10 very bad things. We start with 10 and work our way backwards, to build the suspense.
Me: Of course, brilliant!
Bill: Thanks. #10 is camel farts. #9 is Alf.
Me: The alien puppet with the bad TV show?
Bill: The same!!!
Me: Ok
Bill: #8 is Emeril Lagasse. #7 is Carly Simon. #6 is Kill Bill Volume 2 #5 is getting shot in the face like a porn star. #4 is snorting lines of parmesan cheese. #3 is poison, and #2 is blader!
Me: Wow, what a great list! What is number one?
Bill: Oh, sorry, Israel of course!
Me: Oh, no doubt.

Then all of the sudden a guard came up to the cell door! He said "Did I hear you say that you were looking for blader? He's at, if you hurry you can remove his spleen and make him look at it!" With that, he swung open my door to freedom and I ran here to give you this wonderful message! I'm going to kill you in a horrific fashion, so gruesome that I'll probably vomit on your dying body! So just tell me where you are and hang out for a few days until I can get there. Thanks so much.


fearless leader said...

You want a piece of me? My whereabouts are never a secret, as you well know.

I'm still at Narita airport, a half a world away from you, in the Delta Crown Room, waiting to take a flight to Atlanta.

I'm partying with a gregarious half dozen or so steroid-junkies from the World Wrestling Federation, who are just finishing a tour of shows up and down Honshu, and on their way home.

One recognized me, and before long I was holding court, regailing them with tales of my exploits.

They so much enjoyed the story about the time your had to abandon your submarine, and I had to rescue you, as you chased me around the horn of Africa, that they asked me to recall it three times!!! "Tell it again! Tell it again!" they cried.

We've also discovered an inexhaustible stash of complimentary Pabst Blue Ribbon, so we're not really in a mood to get anywhere soon.

BTW, I don't buy into your hallucinogenically-inspired homoerotic prison fantasy one iota. It has so many logical disconnects I don't know were to begin.

Most telling, you of all people would know that Weimaraner dogs are a cultural taboo and strictly forbidden in Djibouti.

There was no Weimaraner or even a woman who looked like one, and you know it!

JD!!!! said...

OK, are you serious that there was no Weimaraner or even a woman who looked like one? Or are you just saying this to buy time to copulate with professional wrestlers? You think you can confuse me, but you are the one who is not sure what he is saying when he says things to me in order to make me think that I'm not sure what I'm thinking even though I am sure what I am thinking and I am sure that you aren't sure at all! It's pretty clear.

But if it's time you want, then it's time you shall have. In fact, I will give you the opportunity to win extra time! That's how nice I am! Here are five important questions. For each correct answer you will receive one extra day to live. Remember, these are not trick questions. Every question has a correct and incorrect answer (except #5, that’s a trick!!!). Ready? Great! Get out your #2 Pencil, and go!

1) What is better, odd numbers or even numbers?

2) You are playing a round of golf at the TPC of Djibouti with the world famous map expert, Mr. Rand McNally. After hitting a cut six iron into #4 green, setting himself up for an easy birdie, he turns to you and says: "blader, I've been thinking of getting rid of longitude or latitude. I really don't see why we need both. Which one should we get rid of, and why?"

What do you say to him?

3) Hammer is to nail as blader’s driver is to:

a) Shank
b) Don’t choose this one, b! Don’t pick b, seriously.
c) Hook into trees
d) Banana slice

4) What weighs more, blue or yellow?

5) Name a successful policy that has been implemented by the administration of George W Bush.

fearless leader said...

1) This is the trick question, you tool. And the correct answer is rational numbers, which you probably think are so named because they are the numbers that "make sense".

2) I'd say, "Mr. McNally, we've already done the flat earth thing, so if you must lose one, lose the latitudes. People will be much happier living in a tall earth.

3) b

4)The correct answer is 'blue'. And no, I didn't "google" the answer...everybody knows blue light has more photons.

5) Without a doubt their most successful policy has been their ironclad committment not to NOT invade Djibouti for as long as humanely possible. This is particularly successful given their precipitiously dire politcal circumstances. I'm sure they feel enormous pressure right now to start another war in the third world.

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