Atlas Shrugged: The Mocking

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

The League of Extraordinary Bloggers

Part I: The Adventure Begins
Part II: A Fresh Face
Part III: And The Band Played On
Part IV: Strange Bedfellows

In a Secret Location, deep beneath the bowels, entrails and colon of Pennsylvania Avenue, a Meeting of Diabolical Minds takes place. It is the League of Extraordinary Bloggers, each a hero (or a heroine or a Coulter) in his (or hers, or Coulter's) own sphere. They are:

Col. Glenn Reynolds—famous defender of guns, wherever they are needed to fight the Brown Menace.

Michelle Malkin—a creature of the night, with an insatiable thirst for blood under her modest, cheerleader-clad fa├žade.

Jonah Goldberg—A barefoot man-boy with cheek, famous for being so lazy he got his research assistant to paint his fence.

Megan McArdle--a woman of mystery, of disguise, of charm, which hides an unscrupulous and greedy heart.

Ann Althouse—A respectable professor who digs deep into the evil aspects of her psyche when she drink an experimental potion know as “Merlot.”

Reynolds: Bloggers, I called this emergency meeting because we face an urgent new peril.

McArdle: Where's Ann?

Reynolds: She's kind of stuck on a problem at home. She's trying to figure out how many people it will take to change her light bulbs. We're here to discuss Mr. Goldberg's recent actions.

Goldberg: It's not my----.

Reynolds (coldly): Let me finish, Goldfish. Thanks to this dimwit here (points at Goldberg), we have a serious problem. Some Neo-Nazi group has adopted the boy genius and is hunting us down as I speak.

Malkin thwacks Goldberg upside the head.

Goldberg: Oww! What was that for?

Malkin: We're supposed to be stalking people, not getting stalked by your rabid fans.

Goldberg: It's not my fault. I never wanted to write the stupid book anyway. Do you know how many episodes of tv I missed to work on that damn book? My wife only lets me watch two hours of tv a week as it is. Fortunately, she has to go to work sometime.

McArdle: I liked the book.

They all turn to look at her.

McArdle: There were lots of footnotes and I recognized some of the people he talked about and I felt really smart when I was done, although I skipped that entire part about Hillary Clinton. I've hated her ever since she stole that poor intern's career away from her. How is a girl supposed to get ahead if she doesn't network?

Reynolds: Nazis, people, Nazis! Coming here! With their German guns and their German Shepherd attack dogs and their scary German boots! Concentrate, for Heinlein's sake!

Goldberg: Just a minute, Reynolds. This is important. So tell me, Megan, what did you like best about my book?

McArdle: I love the way you equate liberal policies with fascism. It's such a bold, groundbreaking theory. If you help someone, you are forcing someone to pay for the help, and forcing someone else to receive help. It's genius! The minute I read the first chapter I stopped donating to charity. How---.

The Bloggers freeze at the sound of footsteps.

Reynolds: Those are jackboots, I know it! Quick, Malkin, pop out those fangs. McArdle, Goldberg, to your weapons. And hide!

McArdle and Goldberg pull out daggers and press themselves to a shadowy recess of the cave wall. Malkin crouches and Reynolds unholsters another gun. A small crowd of men swarm into the rooms. They all all bald and dressed in chinos and golf shirts.

Neo-Nazi: Come out Goldberg! We have a surprise for you!

Goldberg (falsetto): There's nobody here by us girls. Get out, we're not dressed!

Neo-Nazi: We just want to talk to you, sir.

Reynolds steps out in front of the Neo-Nazi.

Reynolds: You hear the geek. Get lost before you get a taste of old Betsy, here. And mark my words, you don't want to taste her barrel when it's dirty. You see, there's this real strong gunpowder taste and it's kind of greasy, and hard to get off your tongue.

Malkin: (coughing) TMI.

Neo-Nazi: But we don't want to harm him, sir. We want to give him a medal. He's our new hero. We read his blog Liberal Fascism every day, and on the rare occassions that he posts we always rejoice to see the kind words he has for our Leader.

Goldberg and McArdle step out of the shadows.

McArdle: I don't care how how preppy he looks, bald is not in. It lowers your desireabiliy number on the Marriage Index at least fifteen points.

Goldberg: Okay, give me the medal. I want to go to lunch.

Neo-Nazi: For service above and beyond the call of duty in attempting to clear and clean up the image of our most glorious leader, Adolph Hitler, we, the Georgia Hitler Institutional Society and Museum, award you with this token of our esteem.

He hands the medal to Goldberg, who drapes it over his neck.

Goldberg: What's it made out of? Gold? Silver?

Neo-Nazi: I'm not sure. We got the metal by melting down our retainers. Our tongues once carressed that metal.

McArdle: Ewww! That's disgusting.

Goldberg flings the medal onto the floor.

McArdle: You are so not my kind. Unless--

Neo-Nazi: Sorry, no trust fund.

McArdle sighs.

Malkin: What did mommy's clever boy do to deserve this award?

Neo-Nazi: He's written how Hitler was nice to dogs and maids, and how he was only kind of racist and he quotes from our fair dinkum friend down under, John Ray, who loves to talk about race superiority.

Malkin: By the way, you do know Goldberg is Jewish, right?

Neo-Nazi: I'm sorry, what did you say?

Malkin: Jewish. Him.

Neo-Nazi: I'm sorry, Miss, but that can't be right. His mother is Episcopelian, therefore he can't be Jewish.

Malkin: Are you Jewish, Jonah?

Goldberg: Malkin, don't I owe you a hundred dollars?

Malkin: It was two hundred.

Goldberg: That's my entire allowance for the week!

Malkin whistles "Hava Nagila". Jonah hands over a wad of money.

Reynolds: Okay, you're done, all Neo-Nazis get out. We have work to do, Bloggers.

McArdle: Jonah, you were so brave, the way you leaped out of the shadows to face those Neo-Nazis. Tell me you don't practice a protectionist marriage, and that you'll join me on the capitalist free market of Love!

Goldberg: Sorry to break your heart, but the money all belongs to my wife.

McArdle sighs again.

McArdle: Glenn?

Reynolds: The missus would chain you up in the basement and feed you my body parts, inch by inch, while I was still alive.

McArdle: Okay never mind I have to run.

Malkin: Next time you call an emergency meeting, Reynolds, make sure someone more valuable than Goldberg is at risk.

Reynolds: Sorry, Malkin. I just feel lost without Bush, you know? Nothing feels the same anymore.

Malkin: Show some spine, Reynolds. As long as we have weapons to buy and immigrants to hunt, America will endure.

No comments: