I wouldn't, under normal conditions, run the MulletBoy blog, "Randem Thinkings" on this page so soon after the last one (BW, Opinion, "This'll Blow Yer Mind," March 2, 2011). But considering the remarkable subject matter of that posting, together with the recent announcement that Glenn Beck is leaving Fox News, I could not help but question whether the former had anything to do with the latter.
So to kill time until the Tom Luna recall petitions come out, I've been slipping over to MulletBoy's website every few hours for confirmation that he and his cousin, Rip, have indeed reached Beck with word of the insidious and cosmic conspiracy they had uncovered. That confirmation has now come. While we can still only guess why Beck is leaving Fox, one has to admit, the timing is ... ah, but excuse me. I should be letting MulletBoy tell his own story.
You ain't gonna believe this! Well, maybe you can. She's hard to say. If you'da asked me a few weeks ago if I believed I'd be talking with ol' Glenn face to face, I'da said you're crazier than hell. But guess where I been! That's right, crotch wad! I just got back from talking with ol' Glenn face to face. So who's crazy now? Huh?
If that sounds a little screwy, it's because Ripster ain't here to double check my bloggings. He always keeps me from saying the same thing over and over, or from not making sense, or from mixing up what verbs goes with what nouns, or from saying the same thing over and over. He's my poofreader, you might say. But we got separated in New York City when that fishhead came at us, and I ain't seen him since. I hope he's OK, but it's his own damn fault. When we were running away, he yells out to me for to "swing left!" and he knows darn good an well I always get those two mixed up. I musta gone two blocks to the right before I figured out I did it again.
But what I got to tell can't wait around for Rip to get back from wherever he is even if he's alive. Some weeks ago, I blogged up about how we'd found this old book what told about this bunch of monstery freaks called The Great Old Ones what've been waiting since ever and ever to come back and take over the world like what they did once. The book was writ by a dude named Hewlett Packard Lovecrap, and he had tons of evidence that the king of these monsters, Cthulhu, swims around to buttwipe sea towns named Arkham and Innsmouth and gets human women pregnant with his fishhead babies what grow up to be what they call "minions." It's pretty scary, when you think about it.
So Ripster and me, we decide there's only one man who can get his brain around what a world filled up with fishhead minions would mean and that's ol' Glenn Beck. We were getting all set to drive to New York City when Rip's Ram was repossessed, and I told him I thought the tranny is going out in my Camaro, so we end up taking a Greyhound. But that turned out to be sorta good because first off, it gave us time to organize all our facts onto those little paper cards what my wife uses to write recipes on, and second-wise, we found out that New York City ain't nowheres near where I thought it was.
But I tell you what, getting to New York City turned out to be easy greasy compared to getting to ol' Glenn. We must called that Fox News outfit 30 or 40 times afore they'd let me talk to him. See, I'd been telling the receptionist I needed to tell Glenn about ol' Cthulhu, but that last time, I lied and told her it was about some proof I had that Barack Obama has only one testicle just like Hitler did. Whoo-ee dawg! That got Glenn on the phone pronto, and he agreed to meet us down in the lobby of that Fox News building.
Now, I hate like hell how I have to rush over all the details like some of the stuff what happened on our bus ride when Rip tried to pick up on a sweet young thang what turned out to be a dude, and how when we were sitting there in that Fox lobby waiting for Glenn, we saw ol' Bill O'Reilly getting his shoes shined, and how you can't hardly find a chicken-fried steak in New York City for under 20 bucks, but I have to hurry up cause I never know when a fishhead might show up, just like when we finally were talking to Glenn and I was showing him all our recipe cards about Abdul Alhazred the Mad Arab and his book the Necromonocal where's it tells all about them slithering, horrible monsters what plans on destroying ever thing God and George Washington ever stood for, and how probably the Democrats are in on it, not counting the Jews and probably the Catholics, too, when Rip starts stuttering like he does when he's scared enough to crap his pants and says, "Holy Sus-Sweet Juh-Jesus! Luh-look what's cuh-coming!" so I look up and there it was, coming across that lobby straight toward us. I figured what the hell else could it be but one of Cthulhu's fishhead minion men.
I had to thumb it home to Idaho and watch some news afore I could understand it was really that Donald Trump dude what we seen charging at us. But by then, I'd dropped all the evidence cards in Glenn's lap and ran like a sonofabitch. And the last thing I heard out of Rip was "swing left!" And now I hear that Trump dude is running for president. And they say ol' Glenn ain't gonna be on Fox no more. And you think all that happened by coinkydink?
Hold on. Let me go see who's scratching at the screen door. It's probably Rip. That's what he does when ...
And there it ends, just like that. Curious, eh?
Incidentally, the recall petitions came out on April 16. Keep a pen handy.