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What’s REALLY wrong with the NSA

With Commentary

by T. Mike
The Dream:

In my dream, comedian, author, and former Saturday Night Live regular Al Franken has become king. Not of America of course, and I’m not exactly sure precisely what country he’s king of, but it’s probably England, as it’s the most well-known of the current countries still ruled by monarchy. Also, I keep affecting a fake British accent in the dream.

I am King Al’s personal assistant. He has just only recently become King; everyone is still surprised by this strange turn of events. The large kingly mansion is a-bustle with activity. The King is boning up on the country’s history with an unusual mix of materials: my old college history notebook and priceless original historical documents such as a letter from King Quentin from 1423 (yes, I know there was no King Quentin, this is just a king my subconscious made up). King Franken is hurriedly flipping through the papers as he dresses to get ready for some kingly ceremony. I’m wincing as he reads because the notebook is all marked up with my grades. And while I did pretty well, there was that one D that dragged my whole average for the class down to a C.

Fortunately for me, however, King Al either doesn’t seem to care or notice, and instead makes some comment about the shocking content of some of the original letters that the public has never seen. My curiosity stoked, I slyly suggest that I could transcribe the handwritten and archaically worded letters for his majesty, to make it easier for him to read them. He offhandedly agrees, and once he’s ready, we set off down a busy hall to get him to the auditorium for the ceremony. However, he sets a rapid pace, pulling in front of me, then ahead, and after a few turns I’ve lost him! I double back and check a few side doors, sticking my head into a massive kitchen, where the heat has gotten so bad some of the attractive female chefs have doffed all of their clothing except for the chef hats. I would love to stick around if I wasn’t so freaked out about losing track of the King. By now, I’m positive that I didn’t just accidentally lose him, but rather he has quite deliberately ditched me. And very likely skipped out on whatever ceremony we were just en route to.

Analysis:

This dream is kind of weird, even for me. While I respect Al Franken as a comedian, and for his courage in poking fun at high-ranking Republicans, I hardly idolize him, much less think him of kingly stature. Even in the dream he acts like a normal guy, and to his credit, is not trying to put on any false airs. The way he ditches me and the ceremony shows that he is not totally into the whole “King” thing and not that interested in power.

For some bizarre reason, I have always thought I would make a pretty good butler, and I can do a decent upper class British accent (my years of watching Monty Python’s Flying Circus were not a total waste!). Well, here in my dream, I get my big chance to do both, and I blow it. It’s really not my fault, really. Franken is obviously not willing to work with me here. He probably thinks it’s funny that he ditched me (especially so easily). Also, this is his first ditching, so I wasn’t really prepared for it. You can bet if the dream had gone on, I’d have been watching him like a hawk after that!

Fortunately for me, the dreams ended before I had to deal with the consequences of that thoughtless, thoughtless Al Franken. But really- if a leader misses a scheduled public event, who gets the blame? That leader, not his personal assistant! What was I so worked up about?! I need to relax. This is not my “fault.” And in retrospect, even though maybe Franken knew I’d freak out on the enditchment, he probably also knew I wouldn’t get the blame, enabling him to ditch with a clear conscience. At least as far as I was concerned. So while Franken’s irresponsible in my dream, at least he’s not a total ass.

Conclusions:
What conclusions can be drawn from this dream?
1. I loves historical documents.
2. I can’t believe he ditched me. What is this? Grade school?
3. Comedians do not make reliable political leaders.
4. Before you ask, no I have never seen the film King Ralph and don’t particularly care to.
4. Before you ask, no I have never read Franken’s novel where Franken gets elected president. And don’t particularly care to.
5. Naked female chefs are hot.
6. I want credit for inventing the word “enditchment.”
I thank you for your time.

back to T. Mike’s Dreams

Dear Dr. Joe,

I have a very dangerous thyroid condition. Last week my prescription for prednisone ran out, but I can’t afford to renew the prescription. My friends tell me I should use the internet to buy the drugs from Canada. What do you think?

Answer…

Look, pills are pills. No matter who makes them, or what they print on the labels, they’re all the same stuff. So if you’re out of your regular stuff, substitute whatever you have handy — amoxycillin, aspirin, birth control pills, smarties, whatever you’ve got.

Also, remember that much of the best part of a pill, the husky gelatin exterior, is wasted in your esophogus and gut. Suppositories are the best way to get drugs into your system. Look at drugs addicts — they’re always cramming drugs up their ass. If you’re not afraid of your rectum, try cramming your medication up your ass. You could cut your dosage in half — though after you try it once, I bet you won’t want to!

So, to sum up: take whatever pills you have in the house. If you’re totally out of pills: visit a neighbor, excuse yourself to the bathroom, and take pills they have there. Although you might want to discreetly pocket them and cram them up your ass in the privacy of your own home.

Or not, it’s up to you. There’s no doctor who knows better about your needs than Dr. you!

— Dr. Joe

Van Gogh-Goghs Unable to Explain Lack of News

LOS ANGELES, May 10, 2005 (VGG Bicoastal Press) – Van Gogh-Goghs and Van Gogh-Goghs watchers alike were stunned to learn that nothing newsworthy has happened to the Los Angeles-based sketch comedy group in five years. A quick check of the publicly accessible Van Gogh-Gogh News Archive (http://www.vgg.com/news) clearly shows that the last news item is dated May 10, 2001.

The Van Gogh-Goghs instituted their news program in January of 1998 to reveal shocking evidence they had uncovered in the Monica Lewinsky scandal, which was later revealed to be poorly faked. From 1998 thru 2000, the group averaged 12.33 news items a year. Then, in 2001, all Van Gogh-Gogh news suddenly stopped dead after only the fourth release of that year (see graph, inset).

When asked about the strange gap, members of the group expressed shock and confusion. “What?” asked member Galen Black when informed, “Who? Where? When? Why? How? How much? And to what degree?” Black was then led to the nurses’ station and given a juice box.

Group newsologist T. Mike Childs tried to explain the news drought as a shift in the group’s standards. “Standards of newsworthiness change with time. What was newsworthy five years ago may today be of little or no interest today. I think this is true with the VGG news. Five years ago, all of our antics were newsworthy. Now? Who cares? Nobody. Not even me.” Childs then broke into tears and had to be escorted to the nurses’ station.

Biblical scholar and former Van Gogh-Gogh expert Dr. Arthur J. Corrino agreed with Childs’ assessment. “I told you to stop calling me!” said Corrino. “Don’t make me get caller ID!”

Group member Rob Terrell shockingly suggested fraud when informed of the gap. “You want new news? Just re-date the old news so it’s new again.” Terrell was then escorted to the nurses’ station and given an expired juice box that had been re-dated. After initially cringing, he maintained that “it tastes just as good.” He then proceeded to vomit.

Jason Torchinsky initially denied the obvious stating, “What? Don’t be silly. We have plenty of news. News all the time. Lotsa news. All your news is belong to us! Ha! Get it?!” When confronted with the facts (and the datedness of his “all your base are belong to us” reference), Torchinksy became visibly agitated. “Uh. Hunh. Who knew? Knews- Who news?! Ha! Get it?! And… Er… no news is good news! Ooo, ‘Lost’ is on, gotta go!” Torchinsky was then escorted to the nurses’ station and given a juice box personally spiked by Michelle Rodriguez.

Reached at his fortress of isolation high upon the ivory tower, group member Alan Benson was also at a loss. “Oh gee, I have absolutely no idea. Gosh, I don’t know how this atrocity occurred. Maybe if me, Charles, and Rob hadn’t all moved back to North Carolina, we’d be able to get together with T. Mike, Galen, and Jason in Los Angeles and investigate. Try asking the secretary at Jason and Rob’s five-year-old Internet company. Maybe you could ask Rob’s new wife and three baby daughters–or maybe Charles’ twin baby boys know the answer, or maybe T. Mike mentioned it in his book he wrote. It may even be that the answer lies hidden in Galen’s new addition to his house. Now if you’ll excuse me, my I have to head off to grad school before having dinner with my new girlfriend. Dipshit.”

VGG watcher Selena Berrier called the group to task on the omissions. “This is a conspiracy of silence, pure and simple. No news means no criticism. From me. For their crappy news stories. They couldn’t handle the truth so they just covered it up by not updating even once in five years–not just their news, but their ENTIRE site. Shame!” At this point, the nurses’ station was full, so Berrier was escorted to a nearby Quizno’s and given a small paper cup filled with vinegar.

Prospects for future updates continue looking dim, but there is some hope. Quite a bit of spirited discussion took place in the nurses station.

“I like juice,” said Black.

“Juice doesn’t judge you,” agreed Childs.

“Neither does The Juice!” Torchinsky added. “You know, ‘The Juice.’ O.J. Simpson. He’s still topical, right?”

back to Van Gogh-Gogh News Archive