7.04.2006

Frank J. of IMAO: One Alien's Perspective

A TRIBUTE TO FRANK J. BY REMULAK MOXARGON

Greetings puny Earthlings. It's your future conqueror Remulak MoxArgon, here to pay tribute to a man whose contribution to the blogosphere is immeasurable. He's brought wit, elegant prose, and incisive political analysis to a field dominated by insult slinging trolls and half-witted know-nothings who think that an internet connection somehow gives them the right to shoot their mouths off.

No one can top this fellow's contributions to the greater good of the Planet Earth. His presence alone elevate Earthling society in general, and not only that he's got movie-star looks and a charming manner that...

What?

I'm supposed to talk about Frank J?

Oh.

Crap.

What can I say about Frank J. that hasn't already been said.


Face it, everybody else has probably used up all the most descriptive words like annoying, humourless, no-talent, time-wasting hack.

What's left for me?

Oh well, I'm an intergalactic conqueror I'm sure I can muddle my way through talking about him in honour of the 4th anniversary of IMAO.

Well, every time I log onto IMAO I am convulsed with laughter. Someday I'm going to get around to actually reading it. So I guess I owe him a little tribute.

Where shall I begin?

Might as well be from the beginning.

Frank J. was born in a manger...

What? That can't be right.

Oh wait, read that wrong.

He was born in a manager's office at a Hooters Restaurant on the planet Krapton in 1938. Times were tough on planet Krapton and the planet was going to explode for reasons I don't need to get into.

Okay, I blew up Krapton, but I had a good reason, the bastards looked at me funny, now can I get back to my story.

Frank J's father Jor-Jel was planning to escape the doomed planet, but Frank J stole the rocket for himself and took off.

Frank J's rocket crash-landed outside the town of Smallville Kansas, which, ironically, was actually a big city of over 500,000 people. There a clan of itinerant Chartered Accountants took him in, teaching the young boy their secrets of comedy. Which wasn't much.

He had a lot troubles learning in school, that was until he realised that he was highlighting his notes with a black magic marker. Once he solved that problem he rocketed up to the stratosphere of mediocrity.

He grew up, eventually, and started a humour blog with a name no one understands. That blog was OgleBogle. Its name was eventually changed to IMAO.

I remember the first time I met Frank J., he doesn't, thanks to the memory wiping anal probe, but I'll never forget it. You never girlish screams like that and I still can't get rid of that stain he left on the examination table.

But let's get back on topic. Over the 4 years IMAO's been polluting the internet Frank J's developed a reputation for being outspoken... by no one.

I believe it was an Earthling named Betrand Russell who said the degree of one's emotions run inversely to their knowledge of the facts, the less one knows the hotter he gets.

Well, not to say Frank J doesn't know much, but IMAO's lack of facts is single-handedly responsible for Earth's Global Warming.

Stick that inconvenient truth in your pipe and smoke it Al Gore.

Of course his celebrity, as it is, has gone to Frank J's head. In fact he's become quite paranoid. Just the other day he said that he was passing a construction site and that he heard the guy hammering the roof calling him a "paranoid little freak" in Morse Code.

After that he told me that he was certain that while he was driving to work the car in front of him was following the wrong way around.

And this paranoia has made him as jumpy as a cat. The other day he put a shirt on, and a button fell off. He went to pick up his Scooby-Doo lunchbox and the handle fell off. Now he's scared to go to the bathroom.

I tried to get him help, and sign him up for a Paranoid's Anonymous meeting, but when I called to book him a spot, they wouldn't tell me where it was.

I finally got him to a psychiatrist, who told Frank J that he had an inferiority complex. And he said: "That's great, now I'm the least of my problems."

But enough about how bad an emotional cripple he is, let's mock him in other areas.

Like his stinginess.

He comes by it naturally. When he was a boy his father fired a shotgun into the night sky on Christmas Eve and told little Frank J that Santa had shot himself.

Frank J is so stingy, he likes to watch porno films in reverse, so he can watch the hooker give the money back.

He was once hospitalized for a horrible dizzy spell, he dropped a nickel in a revolving door and spent fifteen minutes trying to get it back.

And he's awful for borrowing money. Once he asked me if he could borrow fifty bucks, and that he'd pay me back as soon as he got back from Chicago. I asked: "When are you coming back?"

And he answered: "Who's going?"

Of course everyone knows that Frank J has literary ambitions.

Why right now he's working on a short story that so far has taken him six months.

And I thought Snotglob was a slow reader.

He was working on a self-help book called How To Get Along With Everyone, but it was never finished because he got into a fight with his co-author.

However he's also written several short worksof non-fiction like the Best German Humour, Gourmet Recipes of Ireland, Perfect British Smiles, World's Sexiest Bloggers, and Greatest French War Heroes.

His literary pursuits are not without peril. One time he was in a speed reading contest and hit a bookmark. Spent a week in a coma. Either that, or he was just being lazy.

He's also a thinker of deep thoughts.

One day he pondered: "Why do Frisbees seem larger as they get closer?"

And then it hit him.

And with that I bid you all a good night, I'll be here all week, try the veal, and don't forget to tip your waitress.

PS: Can anyone tell me how Jerry Dante got this picture of me and SpaceMonkey at Jackie Mason's Roast two years ago? These things are supposed to be private, we don't let just any snarg-haggler into these things you know.

2 comments:

Damian G. said...

Awww, I thought that a roast was the real thing on your planet...

SeanS said...

Yeah with a spit and lots of gloomarb sauce.