Archive for the ‘Saved in Drafts’ Category

5 Most Revolting Men on the Planet – #5 Russell Crowe

Thursday, December 16th, 2010

**Another saved in drafts by an author who no longer frequents Mitchieville, Luvy Famous. We need to start treating our employees better, or have a better lunch buffet in the cafeteria, or both, Readership and authorship is off the rail, yo. Dated 01.28.2007, The Mayor can’t figure outwhy this wasn’t published.

Now you are probably wondering why Russell Crowe would be fifth on the top 5 most revolting men list. He is a good actor, average looking, pretty good body, but what you tired Michivillians are missing is that being a good person deserving of praise takes more than just looking hot in a wife-beater shirt.
Russell Crowe was just a two-bit, hard-up, Aussie actor when he landed the lead in Gladiator. He ran around in his little white dress, playing with his big sword and all of a sudden all of America loved him. It didn’t take long for all that hero worship to go to his big, fat head. He started walking around with that “Did I give you permission to look at me, you’ll know when and if you are allowed to place your eyes on me?” attitude, but just like the fall of Rome so did Russell’s popularity.
Fans won’t stand for that kind of treatment and soon enough Russell was no longer a leading man.
Finally just when he seemed to be redeeming himself with his public, he goes and clocks an innocent hotel employee with a telephone.
Russell Crowe has no patience, no gratitude and no class.
Welcome to number 5, you selfish bastard.
Gossip by Luvy Famous

Simon Cowell Has Huge Breasts and Hangs Out With Really Old Farts

Thursday, December 16th, 2010

**This next post must be pretty ancient as The Mayor makes reference to Becker’s. For those of you not in the know, Becker’s was like a 7-11, with a lot less crap and no Slurpies. This unfinished post goes back to the year of our lord 2007, January the 31.

If you ever need another reason why British men shouldn’t hang out at the beach, here is a fantastic example for you.

Unless that well-preserved cadaver intends on milking Simon Cowell’s tremendously well-endowed tits, he really should stay away from Cowell lest he spreads his old person disease all over him. The cadaver seems to be studying the best way to approach Cowell’s udders. Perhaps he is thinking of the fortune he will make when he harvests Cowell’s breast juice and sells it to Becker’s.

Caring Corner

Thursday, December 16th, 2010

**Fenris cares way too much. The pages of Mitchieville prove that statement a thousand times over. This next unfinished post, dates 02.13.2007 is just further proof.

One of the nice things about our multi-cultural society is the diversity of choices available for our senior citizens when it comes to retirement institutions. Many cultures have different beliefs about old age, and, as caring people, we can pick and choose the ones that best suit our situation. In my case, as owner of a busy and growing retirement village, I find that the English Victorian approach to be the most caring and comforting both to my social conscience and to my bank account.

And, of course, multi-culturalism would not be the same without sharing new food experiences with our senior citizens. Here is the authentic English dinner that the lucky inmates at the Badwulf Workhouse for Elderly Indigents had just the other day:

All you can eat Stale bread fried in Pork dripings
Celery sticks, along with rabbit hutch salad
Chocolate Cheesecake with Prunes

What a feast! And for snack at bedtime, everyone got:

Bran Loaf
2 Cups of Prune Whiskey

Certainly something the indigent can look forward too every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Mmmmmm.

You win, atheists

Thursday, December 16th, 2010

**Rocky – yup, The Mayor certainly does miss that guy. He brought a lot to Mitchieville, he was quite a good writer and thinker. Here’s an unfinished Rocky post from 3.27.2009.

I’m not going to argue with you anymore. Your intellectual posturing made you the champions of the universe. Congratulations! Your moms are coming down to the basement now to tell you how proud they are of you.

Maybe I’ll come back and chat it up with you some day. But first, your own religion, Atheism, needs a major Reformation. Your leaders are all thunderous hooligans and your followers fanatics. So just make these slight amendments and we’ll have a meaningful debate again:

* You have no proof. None. We have a Shroud of Turin, Paul’s letters, ancient texts and symbols, the words of Tacitus, and the texts that for over two thousand years have withstood all of the cynics of its time. It’s all well and good not to believe, but thinking otherwise puts the burden on you to fill in the parts at to why.

* You are going to have to think up a better argument than “you’re stupid.” I haven’t heard anything stronger than this argument yet from you athies. (My own creation in response to “fundies.”) Parading around that you are the true intellectuals requires a lot more burdens on your part, just as you like to test the limits of Christians’ patience and love for their fellow man.

* Believers are not all the same. Some religions are just a little bit different from others, and it should be apparent by pointing to a text. Otherwise we’ll lump you non-believers in with Stalin, Mao Zedong, and Hitler. You don’t seem to mind using the last one to smear Christians, but we’re a little better than that.

* Your supposed leaders are making it up as they go. Richard Dawkins is constantly denouncing religious folk as “anti-scientific.” This is not someone who is accepting criticism of science, which was supposed to be the idea in the first place. You can’t produce good science without having it set to criticism, and any rational person would welcome critiques to round out possible exceptions or flaws in the argument. Dawkins is stagnating science worse than any religious person could imagine.

* We don’t hate science; you hate us. Two kids from Columbine killed more people asking if they believed in God than all of the abortion providers killed by religious fundamentalists. Why would Christians hate science, anyway? Ultrasounds and CT imaging has been used to show the human qualities of fetuses while still in the womb. Is that hating sciecne?

* Your rage does not make you look like the intellectuals you pretend to be. Yours is a catechism of bullying, threats,

The Power of Expectation

Thursday, December 16th, 2010

**I don’t think this post was complete, which is too bad. You’ll see by the date on this post, 10.27.2008, that Fenris was absolutely right on with his predictions. Yes, a few of the things discussed haven’t happened yet, but the key word here is “yet.” You can’t deny though, that whatever hasn’t come true is certianly shaping up to come true.

I am gloating over the impending sweep of the American congress, senate, and Presidency by the Democrats. At last, the evil Republicans will be sent back to the ash heap of history, and all their works, from Reconstruction onward, will be undone. At last, Jefferson Davis will have his revenge.

If you hang out with Telemarketers, or Hypnotists, you will hear them chat about ‘Expectation’. This is what drives both telephone sales (that extinct art that drove newspaper subscriptions, arts fund raising, and main stream media market research) and successful hypnotic induction. To a certain extent, propaganda also has ties to the power of expectation in that if the propaganda proves false, disbelief in the entire body of propaganda occurs. A form of negative expectation, if you will.

Now, quickly, look at the actual details of the clean sweep Democrats. The party of Nathan Bedford Forrest has not actually put ink too many actual numbers. They are long on emotions and visceral images, but short on data. So what? So what indeed. Just look into the minds of those happy millions of supporters … in their individual minds are details, indeed. Their imaginations have created images of future expectation, completely untethered to reality, untethered to policy. The Democrats have not issued reality, but sold a dream. This is fine campaigning.

When people have expectations, and those expectations are not met, they turn, by turns, angry, sullen, depressed, or violent. When the proletariat, the welfare class, the bourgeois, the feeling thinkers, have their personal, private expectations unmet, they will behave as primates always do. Just go promise your kid a trip to the circus, then tell him no. Just go promise your partner that you will have sex, then tell them no. Just go promise a customer that you will give them a five percent discount, then tell them no. The key element here is that the O-Party is not promising details, it is leaving that up to the imagination. So when Rainbow the Greenie does not get their imagined end to coal, nuclear, and oil power generation by 2009, when Babu the Crip does not get a hot lemon Cadillac, when Slymo the social worker does not get a bigger desk and a closer parking spot, they will behave in a predictable fashion.

The O-party promises change. What the heck does that mean? What are the details of change, that the O-voters are expecting to see? Hmmm. The alchemists warned us of the dangers of this allowing imagination to drive expectation. In alchemy, the correct mode is to have expectations based on reality. The tarot card that depicts expectations based on emotions is Key 15, the Devil. People who buy into this mentality can expect the reality depicted in the card. This is not very scientific, of course. But as a social engineer, I love to experiment with human lives. Lets get back in a year or so and see what the out come has been.

Adrianna Lima #7

Thursday, December 16th, 2010

From 08.13.2005. The Mayor may have actually posted this before, but who really cares, eh?

Is anyone else’s body shaking uncontrollably right now? Is it just me? Seriously, do you find it hard to breath right now? Do you find that suddenly you’re speaking in tongues?

My God, Adriana Lima is a masterpiece, aint she? I just as much look at her and I find I’m internally giggling. What a ferociously beautiful woman. I love her mom and dad, I praise them for not leaving any marks on her when she was a child. Seriously, is it getting hot in here?

Born in Salvador da Bahia, Brazil, this jewel has been in every glamour magazine on the planet, and she is a top 10 model for Victoria’s Secret. Hey, Victoria, I have a secret for you; dump every model you have and just use Adriana Lima. Better yet, keep your models and let me use Adriana Lima.

Look at her diamond eyes, have you ever seen anything like that in your life? Of course you haven’t. The birth of your first child is insignificant when compared to the first time you saw this incredibly juicy treat.

When I first saw Adriana Lima a few years back, I immediately made a phone call and bought 1 billion shares of Kleenex. I just knew their stock would go up after Adriana was unleashed on the world.

Now let us pray: “Thank you oh heavenly father for making Adriana Lima. Please bless her and make her safe. Please do not ever let anyone harm a hair on her perfect head. Please do not let her get an addiction to pork rinds, cocaine yes, but not fatty foods. Please bless her goody package and keep an eye on her at all times, like I do. Please make her car run out of gas on an abandoned highway just as I’m driving by. And when that does happen, please make it so she is drunk out of her mind, and has a fetish for bald drooling Mayors. Please make sure she’s a nympho. All in your precious and heavenly name.

Every man”.

Off the Grid

Thursday, December 16th, 2010

                                                                                                                          Off the Grid


**Remember Professor Bob? Indeed. Man, did he ever have the ability to anger people. The Mayor doesn’t know where Professor Bob ended up, but I do know this post of his was saved in drafts 11.20.2008.

There is something romantic about Robinson Caruso. He is all alone on a desert island, finding his own food, building his own shelter, responsible to and for himself, needing no one.


I have a picture in my mind of Tom Hanks ?? in a movie. He’s on a beach of a desert island, at night holding a torch and shouting at the jungle,


“I have fire!!” I am not dependent, I can take care of myself.


Dependence creates uncertainty and insecurity. No surprise there.


What if the ( personal horror story ) doesn’t work??? What can I do to make sure ( personal horror story ) doesn’t happen??


My Eastern European friend and his wife have a one year supply of toilet paper. It doesn’t go bad, it’s cheap and it’s a damn nuisance to run out. We laugh about it. They don’t run down there reserves.


We laugh about it because it’s funny. That’s just the way human nature works.


I love them, they are good friends. We teach each other things.


They taught me that we are all guided by our own ( personal horror story ), which is determined by past experience.


Like the time the lights went out and ( personal horror story ) happened.


What to do? Here comes the echo machine.


“ Get an emergency power system!!! “

“ Be A Man, Be Independent, Go Off the Hydro Grid!!”


Okay. Do you want all of us to keep a place at the table for you and your friends, just in case you have a problem??


You’re going to spend a ton of coin to do this, but the grid is still going to charge you for holding a place at the table and spare capacity to feed you.


Truly, despite it’s emotional appeal, the only time being off the grid makes sense is when there is no grid to be on. An emergency generator??? Be reasonable.


Ten years from now, when the lights go out for more than twelve hours, will it still be working??

Ethiopian Idol

Thursday, December 16th, 2010

**Now I see why some posts were saved to drafts and never released. Case in point. Here’s a post from 01.10.2006. I believe it was cold that day.

When I heard there was actually such a beast called Ethiopian Idol, I wondered what the grand prize could possibly be for the winner? Could it be a can of worms? Or perhaps a blade of grass, that would make a swell prize. I even thought that maybe it was a green card to leave that God-forsaken land and move to America. It turns out I was wrong, but yet I still win, cuz I’m not Ethiopian:

The show has fast won the highest ratings on otherwise dull state-run TV.

“You sing like a donkey.” Simon Cowell would be proud, in yer little donkey faces.

Ethiopians aren’t use to criticism or even telling the truth, and that has some Ethiopian Idols upset:

Fan Ejigahu Melesse says at first she and her friends were astounded by the bluntness of Feleke and his three fellow judges.
“They did not even listen to me. What they have done is a very bad thing. They made me look a fool.”

Natinel paid $10 of his hard-earned savings to travel 300 miles from Gonder in northern Ethiopia to Addis Ababa to compete.

It must be very difficult for the judges to pick out just one person who can scream “IYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYA” the best.

“It is not common to tell the truth or criticize. People cannot take criticism.”


But “Ethiopian Idols” has it own answer to Simon Cowell — the acerbic judge on the American and British versions. Feleke Hailu disses contestants by telling them they “sing like donkeys.”

Draft post – (Great Title, Reg)

Thursday, December 16th, 2010

**Here’s a post that was saved to drafts by our friend Reg. We miss Reg. This one goes back to the spring of 2007. To be exact, 05.03.2007. Remember when Reg and Lisa had those great cook-offs? Ya, me either. But still, they were fun.

My heart aches tonight. Set is weeping. I’ve asked myself a dozen times “how could Lisa do this to me”? Do what you ask? Challenge me to a cheese themed smackdown that’s what. You see, because of a recessive gene passed down through the centuries in my Sarmatian-Pole blood (link) I have a genetic defect, I have an abnormality, I am different – I am lactose intolerant.

Because of this abnormality I have suffered taunts from friends and family alike. My best friend intentionally takes me to Dairy Queen and laughs as he orders “I would like one milkshake please”. It’s like a knife in my heart when the order girl comes on and says “would you like anything else” and he says smiling “no, just one milkshake thank you” (he may be a meanie, but he’s polite). My maternal French-Canadian relatives used to force feed me poutine and then chanted “Cheese, Cheese the musical fruit, the more you eat the more you toot” as I broke wind while doubling over in pain.

I do not cook with cheese, I have no cheese recipes in my many cook books. I have been victimized by Lisa as she knew I was digestively challenged. I have filed a protest petition with the Lactose Intolerance Support Agency. As I am different I require accommodation. The grief counselor at L.I.S.A. has told me that I am entitled to an additional 5 votes which will be added to the final vote tallies. It is either this or reparations must be made – Lisa of *BITCH* must proclaim me the victor of Smackdown II.

If there are two people happy with this edition of Smackdown it is my children who greedily ate 4 of my “Reg’s Homemade Grilled Cheese Sandwich avec Cheese Whizzy Celery Sticks”. I’ve never seen my kids so damn happy to eat something out a jar before.

It’s hard to compete against Lisa when that pizza of hers looks so delicioso. Hmmm, yes, one could say that Lisa’s pizza looks down right Delissio (link). Am I accusing Lisa of buying a frozen pizza and trying to pass it off as one of her own? Yes, yes I am.

For once in my life I am differently abled and I intend to milk it. Send me your $1.00 off lactose free soy milk coupons in the mail and give me your votes in the comments section below, society owes me!

Chronic – Saved in Drafts

Thursday, December 16th, 2010

**This saved in drafts post goes allthe way back to 03.11.2005. Back when The Mayor really digged swearing. Don’t get me wrong, The Mayor still likes to swear, but reserves it mostly for the weak, old and slow of foot.

It’s Just A Plant, a children’s story of marijuana, is a book written by Ricardo Cortez to promote awareness to children about the “real” facts about marijuana. You can just imagine what those real “facts” are. Anyway, it’s actually worth a look because it’s so fucking hippyish, it borders on ridiculous. Like this picture. Look at that furniture, Can the fashion police please beat these people up with your fashionable batons. And look in the background, the kid’s bike is leaning up against the cactus. If you’re a parent with small children and you want to maim them, I suggest you put a large cactus, ground level, in your living room.

The next picture shows little toddler Jackie waking up in the middle of the night because she smelled the smelly fumes of her parents joint.
Put a towel at the bottom of your bedroom door you ignorant assholes. What are you trying to do, get your 4 year old high? If you want to smoke a joint, go outside and smoke it. Sorry, maybe that’s not “cool”. You’re right, what is very cool is you smoking in bed, let alone pot, fucking up your child’s health, and acting if you’re some cool fucking Joe, when in fact you’re a little fucking weasel with no heart.

The third picture is pretty good, too. It shows mommy and daddy Hitler discussing with their daughter “Moonbud” that all they are doing is smoking some weed. No worse than having a bowl of Frosted Flakes. Look how the father is “pow wowwing” with his daughter, and is still smoking the shit in front of her. Look where his right hand is, and look where his daughters leg is situated. This Cortez is one fucked up stoner.

Listen, I like stoners, they make me laugh alot. If you’re a casual pot smoker, say you might smoke a few times a month when you go out drinking or something, then I have no problem with you. I do however have a problem with chronic smokers. Chronics are by far the laziest people in the universe, Barr none. Chronics have velcro on their shoes because they’re too lazy to tie up laces. Chronics who smoke around their children are child abusers and should be jailed. If you think for one minute that cigarettes are worse for you then pot, you my friend are out of your mind. Chronics are typically bad parents. Chronics care more about how much dope they have left than taking their kids out to their softball games. Chronics always ask “when am I ever going to get a little ME time”. Chronics are the lifeless punching bags of society. You can’t even get pot legalized because every time you go to hold a rally, all you potheads are too lazy to attend it. Chronics think they’re hip, but they’re not, they think they’re “in tune” with society, but society rejects them. So to all my slackjaw, drooling, out of touch chronic pot smoking readers, BOO!!!! I bet that fucked you up.

If you read only book this month, do not let it be this one. However, if you want to go and see what a total fucking douchebag of an author writes about how you should control your kids minds through ocular poison, then by all means visit his site.

So long Israel, and hello Vienna! – Saved in Drafts

Thursday, December 16th, 2010

**It certainly wouldbe nice if Fenris revisited this piece and finished it. The Mayor doesn’t like posts that end with the word “and”. It leaves too much up in the air. This post is from 2.14.2010. Woulda coulda shoulda won some sort of award, and…

I have been bothered at my leisure with demands for production about the soon to be non-existance of Israel.  Yeah, sure, it is a tasty subject for satire.  It is grim and there will be quite a few war movies, great war movies of the future, to be written, scripted, story-boarded, filmed, edited, and shown.  So I will write quick, as there are only a few more paragraphs to go before I am done with you.

Today is the first Saturday after the Persians went public with the Bomb. They have the Bomb.  They have stated quite clearly the conditions under which they will use their Bomb.  This is quite Queensberry rules, and every dead Statesman you talk to on the Ouija board will tell you that what they say is true enough to take heed of, and if you heed their boundary conditions, the Bomb will not go boom.  So what?  So what does this have to do with Israel?  Those Persian atomic bombs can only hit Los Angeles, maybe San Francisco, certainly Honolulu.  Utah is safe.  So who cares?

Sure, Israel has the Bomb. They have the Bomb too.  Big Deal.  This problem is not a big problem as far as Military problems go.  Israel does not fear the Bomb.  They are more likely to fire their broadside first, and it just might happen in this wonderful decade of 2010.  But before we get to how earthquakes and atomic bombs are like each other in effect, I want to talk about the ruthless self-interest of nation states.

This is a bad thing for Israel, but not in the way you would expect. History suggests that powers that pay tribute, pay tribute for appeasement, effect, or subterfuge.

Appeasement. The defeated in war end up paying tribute.  A certain amount of the trillions invested in Israel every year has a proportion, a percentage that is simple weregild, blood money for a ’sorry we shot your Grandpa’ that comes with a rather nice greeting card.

Appeasement, but. But the great power that was enforcing this payment is under a leader of Hope and Change. He has been bowing to these other, lesser, tribute paying powers. Today, Saturday, the Final Decision Makers are listening to Opera at their weekend retreats, sipping the best, and deciding. Maybe the Israel money does not have to be paid. Not now. The Americans are choosing retreat as their policy. So weregild for Israel can stop.

Effect. Sure, your tribute money buys you some peace and contentment over close there to where the oil fields are. But lately, last few years, those shipping lines, pipelines, refineries are

Walk in someone elses jackboots – Saved in Drafts 4.29.10

Thursday, December 16th, 2010

**An unfinished Fenris post from 4.29.10. The Mayor would be interested in reading the ending to this piece.

If you ever get a chance to talk to an astrologer, they are always full of smarmy advice and maple syrup for the soul. One of my peers here at Mitchieville, Sargon, is an astrologer. He has a spotty attendance record, and today he is not here at his work cubicle. The message he left on the answering machine muttered something about evil omens and bad influences. But, I, Fenris Badwulf, am a progressive and, in order to better understand my fellow man (Sargon, eh) I am assuming his identity and will walk in his shoes just to better understand him. I care.

My first mission in my jihad of care and concern is to thoroughly investigate Sargon’s desk. He has far too many pencils. Who would want a bunch of those things? He has some with that devilish soft lead (B? BB?) and a few colored ones too. What sort of person keeps colored pencils in their desk? Red, orange, green, blue (Navy, ultramarine, and baby). Hmmm. And he has managed to purloin one of those nifty small staplers that even I do not have. The bandit!

Other desk contents that raised my activist suspicions were a pair of sneakers in the bottom left hand drawer (where files should be placed).  And there was a bag of candy in the middle left hand drawer – chocolate covered almonds.  What sort of white right wing extremist keeps candy in his desk?  I wondered if he had a gun, a pistol, or some sort of weapon, as all white people keep guns (because all white people are right wing extremists, unless they are moderates who follow Marxism-Leninism-Trudeauism).  Sargon is right handed, so I checked his top right hand drawer (that is where I keep me .222 pistol, silencer, ammo, and black deer skin gloves).  No gun.  He did have a letter opener.  Not quite something the fascists would issue to front line desk jockeys; no runes worked into the blade, no rubber no-slip grip for wet work, no grooves for easy insertion and removal, no edge, not even a specialty Belgian steel.  Hmmm.  Based on the lack of evidence, Sargon was hiding something.

My journalistic investigation was cut short by the first of Sargon’s clients’ arriving: a Mrs. Smith.