Archive for the ‘Evil Geniuses’ Category

Save The Planet, Kill Yourself

October 12, 2007

Tennesseans For Genocide. That’s the name of the new organization I’m starting up. Our motto is, “We Must Destroy Humanity In Order To Save It.”

Face it, if history teaches us anything, genocide is The Solution to every problem facing mankind. Canaanites squatting on the land that your invisible pal promised you? Kill ’em all, let Yahweh sort ’em out. Armenians doing whatever it is Armenians do in your backyard? Wipe ’em out. It will be decades before anyone gives a shit. Too many educated people screwing up your worker’s paradise? Put them out to pasture.

Isn’t this the real goal of today’s environmental movement? It ain’t authentic Global Warming without Man Made™ Global Warming on the label. We’re told that humans are using up all the oil, burning down the forests, paving over the wetlands, expanding their settlements into the heretofore peaceful critter’s habitats. The unspoken inference is that the world would be a whole lot better off if there were less humans.

Personally, I would feed the still-beating heart of the last, lazy panda to my children if it meant our survival.  What we are being fed, thanks to the Humans Are Bad movement, is a steady diet of thin gruel based on the assumption that the snail darter has as much, if not more, right to live here as I do.  Bad or not, I’m the one with the fishing pole and the opposable thumbs.

One of the cool things about the internet is that you don’t have to be Adrian Veidt to suss out the collective zeitgeist. Population Reduction is in the hidden gremlin in all of these conversations. Over at Slate they are openly considering the idea.

A new non-fiction release that I’m looking forward to, but can’t summon up the lack of decency to purchase, is The World Without Us. A book that postulates what the earth would look like and how things would be “better” for the environment. Proof of concept as reviewed with breathless anticipation to join the dinosaur over at Salon.  I am not willingly going to slouch towards extinction, thank you very much.  Earth First?  How about, You First.

If it has to happen, let us make sure it happens on our terms. Seems that a billion Chinese and a billion on the subcontinent would be as good a place as any to thin the herd. Hell, the Indians think they are going to be reincarnated anyway, so no big deal.  According to their religion, we’re doing them a favor, or something.

According to God’s Favorite Republicans, we aren’t making white people fast enough. If we thin out the numbers of the Indians and Chinee, we might stand a chance, statistically speaking. Crank out a vicious little bug of the superflu in Shanghai, Beijing, Islamabad and Dehli. Concurrently open up a canister of the same in Mecca, Mogadishu, Tehran and Khartoum. That should get the Mohammedans to simmer down for a few centuries with all that irresponsible talk about holy war.

I’m not saying we won’t get our hair mussed, but we’re talking ten million, twenty million dead…tops. That still would leave us in a decent position population wise to rebuild society.

Which brings us to the Pied Piper of the Apocalypse.

What about all those hurricanes that Jor-Al showed us in Power Point? Maybe next year. I know Sheryl Crow was really looking forward to them wiping out people’s homes and businesses so she could be right. The scientists whose funding depends on making dire predictions aren’t even behind this myth.

Now Jor-Al has won a prize. For Peace. Sure a billion people will have to die for us to have that peace, but it will be peace at last. From the Nobel Committee’s press release:

Extensive climate changes may alter and threaten the living conditions of much of mankind. They may induce large-scale migration and lead to greater competition for the earth’s resources. Such changes will place particularly heavy burdens on the world’s most vulnerable countries. There may be increased danger of violent conflicts and wars, within and between states.

Now we’re talking!

Think of the world you want to leave your children? Doesn’t the one with less people sound better?  Are you going to be able to afford to launch your only son into space in a flying Prius?  Drunkenly bouncing around the galaxy looking for a suitable planet to colonize and maybe get a little high.  I don’t think so.

No, you’ll be stuck here, watching the fall and rebirth of human civilization.

It will be like Disneyland without the crowds.


Maus: This Time, It’s Personal

October 19, 2006

The dog and I were having a conference about the Final Solution for the Mouse Question.

You know, instead of sitting on the couch watching MSNBC, you could help me with this mouse business.

Are you talking to me or to yourself? Count your blessings. Not everyone has a talking dog who watches television all day.

I’m talking to you. Besides, I don’t watch TV during the day. It is only on for your benefit.

Yeah, I almost forgot. You spend all day surfing the web compiling zombie apocalypse survival tips and pretending to look for a job. My bad.


Why aren’t you helping me with the mice?

Do I look like a fucking cat? I go out there and stare at the shed. The mice don’t come out. What else would you have me do? When I grow opposable thumbs, I’ll get right on that.

Thanks for shitting right by the shed door, by the way. Very nice.

What do you care, smart-guy? You aren’t going to clean it up. Speaking of cleaning up, how do you propose to get the mice to un-ass the AO?

Please don’t use obscure army references that are only funny to about three people world-wide. It destroys the whole idea of you having your own voice if you are constantly using my catch-phrases.

(Yawns) Whatever, David Berkowitz. Sorry. Please don’t cane me, sir! I was led astray!

Nice. Hard Day’s Night. Is this going to go on all day?

There you go, hiding behind a smokescreen of bourgeois cliches.

Put yer tongue away, it looks disgustin hangin out, all pink and naked.

Touche. So, are you going to poison these little bastards or what?

No. I can’t put rat poison out because you might eat it by mistake.

Dumbass. I can’t get into the shed. No opposable thumbs, remember?

Still. You might eat it. I can’t risk the death of a beloved pet at this point.

Whatever. Are you using the traps that snap their necks?

No. I’m using the glue traps. They are more humane.


How in the hell is that more humane? How is sticking them in peanut butter flavored glue until they starve to death more humane than snapping their necks with a spring-loaded pow?

Well, for starters what am I going to use for bait? They have food laying around all over the place. How is a piece of cheese going to tempt them when the grass seed buffet is mounded up in front of them? The glue traps, placed tactically along their avenues of approach, should work just fine.

You want to watch the mice suffer don’t you?


Yer a sick fuck, Fink.

Enough with the snappy movie references. Let’s go check the traps.

No thanks. Contessa Brewer is on. Mmmm, Contessa.

The Badger Game

July 19, 2006

Dateline NBC’s To Catch a Predator franchise has become one of my guilty pleasures.   They should have a channel where the programming is all about luring  perverts into a house and getting them on camera.  They should team it up with Law & Order, NBC’s only other bankable cash cow.  They could get rid of CNBC and show nothing but Law & Order reruns in all incarnations alternating between Dateline’s various online stings.

On the other hand, I’m also a fan of certain criminals.  Specifically, I like the grifters.  This probably goes back toThe Rockford Files, but I love me some con games.  Anything with Ricky Jay, I’m there.  Especially if it is written by David Mamet.

These worlds collided with a con so fantastic in its conception, yet so simple it has been right here in front of us.   Two grifters started their own To Catch a Predator deal and fleeced the pervs out of their money.  Fucking brilliant!
Banking on the fact that sexual relations with minors is a felony crime, often resulting in lengthy prison terms, the couple would rob the men — explaining that if they did not do what was asked, they would turn the predator’s photograph or video in to authorities along with a transcript of the Internet conversation.

If that wasn’t persuasive enough, Mr. Barnett and up to seven possible accomplices were waiting with baseball bats.


Miss Tessmacher!

April 12, 2006

luthor.jpg I have a plan for solving this Iran nuclear showdown.  It is brilliant in its simplicity.  We need to stop the ability and means of the Iranian government from enriching any more uranium.  A regime full of religious nuts holding a grab bag of home made nukes isn’t in anyone’s best interest.  Our problem is, short of dropping nukes of our own on the Iranian facilities, or staging some commando raid straight out of a Tom Clancy video game, there isn’t a lot we can do.

The nuclear option will make us look like bigger assholes than we already are.  Nothing like the deaths of millions to turn world opinion against you.   Although, a surgical strike destroying the facility and all who are in it would be a small price to pay in the eyes of history.    The problem with that is they expect us to do just that.  Then it would turn out they were bluffing, and were using the top secret underground bunker for baby milk production.  Boy, would we look silly then.

The commando raid going in and destroying the facility brings up the ugly memories of Operation Eagle Claw.  We can’t afford for another FUBAR mission to fail as the eyes of the world are watching.

So, what else do we have?  Too many of our troops are committed in Iraq to make any sort of invasion a credible threat.  This almost exhausts our military options.  Except one.

Lucky for us, and unlucky for the Persians, they are sitting on some of the most geologically unstable land this side of San Andreas.  Hell, they just had a nasty earthquake a few weeks ago.  About every ten years they catch a big one that kills tens of thousands.

The uranium enrichment facilities are situated right smack-dab in the middle of  Earthquake Country.   So we drop a couple of megatons on the fault line, in an area far from any population centers.  Massive earthquakes rock the region.  The underground Iranian nuke facilities get buried under tons of rubble and debris.  The atoms of destruction are safely contained inside along with the now oxygen depleted brain trust who created them.  You can thank the Iranian construction industry whose use of substandard materials, indifferent supervision and typical Islamic fatalism for making every building in the whole country a death-trap.

Here’s the bonus, because we don’t drop the nuke on any population centers, no one can prove that we did it.  Anyone who saw the flash would either be vaporized or catch some nasty radiation poisoning and be dead before they could spill the beans to the international press.  The Iranians would have their hands so full with digging themselves out from under the earthquake, they wouldn’t have time to investigate the cause of the temblors and the resulting after shocks. 

By the time they get to the nuke labs, our boys have already made sure that nothing is getting in our out of their impregnable stronghold.   The current regime would fall, the more liberal and reform minded politicians would come to power.  We would be there to help them, now that they are no longer a threat.  We would be greeted as liberators, and would be warmly welcomed as we helped shape the new Iran more to our liking.

Lex Luthor: Now, call me foolish, call me irresponsible, it occurs to me that a 500 megaton bomb planted at just the proper point would, uh…
Superman: Would destroy most of Iran. Millions of innocent people would be killed. And the Middle East as we know it would-…
Lex Luthor: Fall into the sea.
Lex Luthor: [Gives a little wave with his hand] Bye-bye, Iran. Hello, New Persia. My Persia.
 Lex Luthor: Costa Del Lex. Luthorville. Marina del Lex. Otisburg… Otisburg?
Otis: Miss Tessmacher, she’s got her own place.
Lex Luthor: Otisburg?
Otis: It’s a little bitty place.
Lex Luthor: [Angrily] Otisburg?
Otis: Okay, I’ll just wipe it off, that’s all. Just a little town.
[Erases Otisburg]

I think National Lampoon had a cover like this back in the ’70’s

April 12, 2005

This guy is a fucking genius.  An evil genius, but a genius nonetheless.