re·bus
(re¯'bus) n., pl. -bus·es.

A representation of words in the form of pictures or symbols, often presented as a puzzle.

[From Latin re¯bus, ablative pl. of re¯s, thing.]

I should have this figured out by tomorrow...


UPDATE: Our team of experts has cracked the rebus. Hat+pea, then gnu, then y+ear... That all adds up to...

Hatpea Gnu Year!

Grab your goofy hat, it's almost 2007! Now...what to serve at your New year's Eve party? Sure, you'll pop the champagne after the ball drops, but before that, how about serving your guests cocktails that are dashing, dangerous and just plain fun! Perfect!

'57 Chevy With A White License Plate
Fill a rocks glass with "rocks," add white creme de cacao and vodka

Sour Apple Rum Sour
Fill a rocks glass with "rocks," add 2 oz flavor mix or Schnapps for a Cherry, Peach, Blackberry, Raspberry, Strawberry, or Wildberry Sour Apple Rum Sour

Fight or Flight
Fill a rocks glass with "rocks," add 1/2 can Red Bull, 1 1/2 oz 151 proof rum, and 1/2 oz. Captain Morgan's rum. Top off the glass with energy drink, stir and get ready to fight or fly!

Of course, you'll want to make your "rocks" from scratch. It's easy!

Basalt
10 lbs pyroxene
10 lbs olivine
5 lbs feldspar
5 lbs quartz

1. Preheat oven to 9000 degrees F.
2. Toss pyroxene, olivine, feldspar, and quartz together in a large bowl. Spread mixture out on a cookie sheet.
3. Bake for thousands of years.
4. When molten take out of the oven, and allow to cool for a few days in front of an open window. Break into serving pieces with a sledge hammer.

Now you're ready to party!

He grimaced and shook his head. "You'll...never do it."

I ran my tongue over my lips and looked at the plate in front of me. "Do what?"

"Eat that sammich."

"What?"

"That sammich." He shifted his eyes and made a terrible face. "That grilled cheese sammich."

Oh, wretched offering with brown hangings and twilight colored slices of charred wheat bread! Such was the dismal repast the counterman gave to me...to me...dazed, disappointed, barren, ravenous...I sat there suddenly paralyzed...my mind and body had congealed into one infinitely horrible hunger pang, despite this vision of a meal I would have long ago consigned to a trash bin somewhere. Then the terrible hunger was flooded with an even more terrible wave of nausea and I sat at the counter with my hands in my pockets so he wouldn't see they were shaking.

Cloned cheese...damned FDA! I know not where the dairy cow was born, save that the laboratory must have been infinitely cold and infinitely horrible, full of dark passages always hideously damp. And there was that accursed smell everywhere, a smell of odorous gases from commercial livestock operations.

He was watching me like a hawk now, the smirk on his puss gone. He saw what had happened to me when he said the name and there was a peculiar expression of disgust on his face.

Finally I piped up, "You sure it's...cloned cheese?

He barely nodded.

Ghastly and terrible was that dead, lifeless piece of cheese; black, ruined, deserted, and sinister. But more ghastly and terrible still was the hunger that rolled over me again, except worse this time. I knew the counterman wasn't lying and that mouldy cheese on my sandwich was surely unclean, abnormal, and detestable as I wolfed it down...

'Twas the day before Christmas, and all through the store
While shoppers were shopping, a bomb threat I ignored;
Girl's sweaters were hung in Apparel with care,
In hopes that your parents, soon would be there;
The children were home, with grandma today,
While reruns of Spongebob kept them at bay;
And mom in her mittens, and dad with his money,
Just turned down aisle three for a Laugh 'n Learn Bunny,
When up on the roof, there arose such a clatter,
I sprang out of my office to see what was the matter.
Away past the Greeter, I flew like a flash,
To the front door of WalMart, where prices are slashed.
The grey skies above were sprinkling snow
Landing atop the police cars below,
When, what to my wondering eyes would be seen,
But the Chief 'o Police, and his entire SWAT team!
I'm the manager here, I can't get upset,
But I knew they were here for the phoned-in bomb threat.
More thorough than eagles, his officers searched,
In Electronics, and Jewelry, and Housewares they perched;
"Now, Chief, c'mon, please gimme a break!
$400,000 in sales are at stake!
It's a hoax I'll bet, let's try to stay coolish!
Evacuate customers?! That would be foolish!"
As kids' electronics, we continued to sell,
And Xboxes, and Barbies -- those shopping carts swelled!
So up at the cashiers, the money just flew,
The SWAT team and bomb squad were hard-at-work, too.
The stock room, freezers; the cops checked it all,
Even going through Jewelry, nothing was too small.
As I counted some money, and was turning around,
From Aisle Six, Chief Overweg came with a bound.
He was dressed all in hazmat, from his head to the ground,
And his suit was all messy, from looking around;
A group of his officers stood at his back,
He looked like he just crawled outta the sack..
His eyes -- how they furrowed! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn down like a bow,
He had something to tell me -- I hope we don't blow!
The stump of a Tums he held tight in his teeth,
Nervous exhaustion circled him like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he spoke like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a tired old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A twitch in his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spit out his words, as he went straight to his work,
"You got lucky this time, you absolute jerk!"
And laying his finger aside my forehead,
"You're lucky your shoppers and associates aren't all dead!"
He sprang to his car, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all drove like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove into the blue
"And tell your WalMart District Manager to go fuck himself, too!"

Whoops! We almost forgot to put up the Christmas decorations! This cheerful lawn ornament should brighten everybody's spirits! Merry Christmas!

On the eleventh day of Fafmiss, my true love gave to me...


Eleven pipers piping,

Ten Lords (of the Dance) A-Leaping... On DVD,
Nine ladies dancing,
A LELY Astronaut A3 Robotic Milking System
Seven cops a-shooting,
Six greasers braying...
FIVE RECALLED TOYS!
Four calling plans...
Three Freedom hens...
two Aris gloves,
and a pitchfork in a zombie.

Here's what I just heard through their "pipeline:" leading neocon Elliot Abrams and and some of his fellow-travelers at the NSC have been working with former Saudi Ambassador to Washington Prince Bandar bin Sultan on a covert action operation that supplies money and weapons to anti-Hezbollah groups in order to strike back at Iran. The Saudis appear to have been brought in as subcontractors because the White House rightly fears exposure by nervous-nellie Washington insider pipers who think this operation may turn out to be another ill-fated Iran-Contra that will only sink us further into our Middle Eastern morass. Look Democrats in Congress, our hands are clean!

Further, the 11 pipers are piping that Saudi Ambassador Prince Turki al-Faisal's recent sudden unannounced departure may have been due to escalating tensions between Bandar and Turki over the operation.

Thanks, pipers!

On the tenth day of Fafmiss my true love gave to me...


Ten Lords (of the Dance) A-Leaping... On DVD!

Nine ladies dancing,
A LELY Astronaut A3 Robotic Milking System,
Seven cops a-shooting,
Six greasers braying,
FIVE RECALLED TOYS!
Four calling plans,
Three Freedom hens,
two Aris gloves,
and a pitchfork in a zombie.

On the ninth day of Fafmiss, my truelove gave to me...


Nine ladies dancing,

A LELY Astronaut A3 Robotic Milking System
Seven cops a-shooting,
Six greasers braying...
FIVE RECALLED TOYS!
Four calling plans...
Three Freedom hens...
two Aris gloves,
and a pitchfork in a zombie.

Bada-bing!

On the eighth day of Fafmiss, my true love gave to me...


A LELY Astronaut A3 Robotic Milking System

Seven cops a-shooting,
Six greasers braying,
FIVE RECALLED TOYS!
Four calling plans,
Three Freedom hens,
two Aris gloves,
and a pitchfork in a zombie.

Now I can milk the whole herd three times a day with a 15% gain in milk production over our old milking machines. That's light years ahead of your Eight Maids-A-Milking!


Maybe we'll keep one or two on, though. ... You know... to help out around the house.

On the seventh day of Fafmiss, my true love gave to me...



Seven cops a-shooting...

Six greasers braying...
FIVE RECALLED TOYS!
Four calling plans...
Three Freedom hens...
two Aris gloves,
and a pitchfork in a zombie.



A Special Christmas Tip 'o the Hat from Officer Delicious: On behalf of the NYPD, I'd like to thank all of the nice tourists and out-of-towners who complained to local news crews about bein' inconvenienced and havin' their holiday shopping interrupted by tens of thousands of ordinary New Yorkers silently marching down Fifth Avenue Saturday to protest the fatal police shooting of 23-year-old Sean Bell three weeks ago on his wedding day. Nuts to 'em!

"The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come"

FADE IN

EXT - WHITE HOUSE - NIGHT

SLOW ZOOM IN ON WHITE HOUSE - MEDIUM SHOT

FADE TO: INT - LINCOLN BEDROOM - NIGHT

The Skipper is in the lower bunk sleeping while Dubya is in the upper. Out of nowhere comes an eerie ghostly wail, which wakes up Dubya. The Skipper is unaffected and is seen snoring.

DUBYA
Skipper? Is that you?

Dubya looks over the side of the bunkbed and down at the Skipper. The Skipper is fast asleep. Dubya tries to go back to sleep.

Once again the ghostly wail penetrates the silence of the Washington night, prompting Dubya into action.

Dubya
No, it wasn't you, Skipper.

Dubya gets out of his bunkbed to see what the sound is.

PAN/ZOOM IN WITH DUBYA TO WINDOW

He walks to the large window and pulls up the blind. He looks out and sees a flowing white apparition. Dubya immediately lets go of the cord and the blind closes. He looks totally spooked and races over to the Skipper.

PAN/ZOOM WITH DUBYA TO SKIPPER

CLOSE UP OF SKIPPER AND DUBYA

DUBYA
Skipper, Skipper wake up, wake up!

SKIPPER
What's the matter!? What is it little buddy!?

DUBYA
I just saw a ghost, out there in the Rose Garden!

SKIPPER
Oh for goodness sake, Dubya! You didn't wake me up out of a sound sleep to tell me about your nightmare!?

DUBYA
No! Skipper...

SKIPPER
Dubya, people are alive, ghosts are dead!

DUBYA
No no no! I saw a real live ghost, out there!

SKIPPER
Oh, Dubya will you stop that! Now go to sleep! GOOD NIGHT!

(pause)

You're dreaming!

(muttering to himself)

Pangs of conscience are for chumps.

DUBYA
Oh. Yeah maybe I was dreaming. I just dreamt I saw a ghost.

PAN/ZOOM IN WITH DUBYA TO WINDOW

Dubya walks back over to the window and starts to pull up the blind once more.

DUBYA
There's no such thing as a...

As the blind is pulled open, Dubya comes face to face with the flowing white apparition.

DUBYA
...ghooooooooo...

GHOST
(O.S.)
Yes. You must all get off my island! Oh, the horrors you have wrought!

Dubya
Yes sir, Mr. Ghost I...I, we...we didn't know it was your island but, but I'm the president...

GHOST
(O.S.)
Not for much longer! You must all leave! And soon! Ooooooooooo...

DUBYA
But I'm still the president! I'm not going anywhere!

The ghost continues it's eerie moaning as Dubya turns to run away.

CUT TO: NEW ANGLE - MEDIUM SHOT

GILLIGAN
Skipper! Skipper! The ghost! It's a ghost!

He turns and runs smack into the Skipper. They both tumble to the floor. Dubya wrestles frantically with the Skipper before rising and taking off in a panic at high speed. He crashes smack into Laura Bush as she enters the room carrying a big laundry basket.

DUBYA
Whoops!

LAURA
I brought you boys some fresh clothes and sheets.

SKIPPER
Oh, fine. Just leave 'em there on the table.

Laura playfully tousles Dubya's hair.

LAURA
What's the matter, Dubya?

Dubya points towards the window. The "Ghost" is gone and now an empty clothesline blowing in the breeze has taken its place. He looks baffled.

DUBYA
Huh?

SKIPPER
Oh boy, am I gonna sleep tonight now that our friend the ghost is gone!

DUBYA
(Sheepish)
Me too. Things were getting pretty spooky around here.

SKIPPER
Ha...ha...ha...ha, Dubya little buddy, you're too much!

The Skipper thrusts some of Laura's laundry in Dubya's face to scare him one more time. Dubya looks embarrassed and the Skipper and Laura laugh as we...

FADE OUT

On the sixth day of Fafmiss, my true love gave to me...


Six greasers braying...

FIVE RECALLED TOYS!
Four calling plans,
Three Freedom hens,
Two Aris gloves,
And a pitchfork in a zombie.

John Travolta: HA-HA! You're doing the chicken dance!
Greaser #3: Ooooh! Dude, that's just cold.
Olivia Newton John: I only have one thing to say: "Shut up, TERL!!"
Greaser #2: Oh, SNAP! ... Girl, you're somethin' else! Them shoes are smokin'! What say you and I blow outta here and ditch these losers.
Greaser #1: Dag, Terl, you gonna just stand there and take that?!

[Don't worry, Olivia. He's just teasing because he likes you.]

On the fifth day of Fafmiss, my true love gave to me...


Five recalled toys!

Four calling plans...
Three Freedom hens...
two Aris gloves,
and a pitchfork in a zombie.

My Baby Vroom Vroom Vehicle has problems with the cloth-covered foam powertrain control module.

My Dream House Play Set has lead paint on the walls and high concentrations of radon in the basement.

My Action Tank Play Set has tank armor that incorporates depleted uranium.

My Polly Pockets Magnetic Toy Set is reversing the Earth's magnetic fields.

My Flashing Pacifier's lithium-ion batteries are faulty and can cause fire and explosions.

AAARRRRGH!

On the fourth day of Fafmiss, my true love offered me...

Four Calling Plans!

Three Freedom hens...
two Aris gloves,
and a pitchfork in a zombie.

Oh, the choices! On-peak, off-peak, in-network, out-of-network -- I'm in heaven! And Thank the Lord my phone company used its super-computer to offer me the best deal ever this Joyous Christmas Season!

The editors of Parenting think they know, and so they've put together this special Holiday issue that Time, Inc might have published in the year 0001. What else would you expect from the most trusted authority for helping you raise smart, loving and obedient children! This special issue contains Biblical-age child development guidance, valuable advice on a child of Galilee's emotional and social development, health and safety information and even how to Ferberize mankind's Redeemer.

Articles include tips, advice, guides and answers to questions about every stage of parenting from pregnancy up to raising teens. Subject matter includes safety-proofing a manger, escaping Herod's plan to have all the baby boys of Bethlehem killed, how to nap properly and all the help a biblical mom needs to stay sane, organized and healthy while raising Our Lord. This issue is informative and inspirational, and parents of all ages will find new tips and guidance that help make this Holiday Season more memorable. 100% Satisfaction Guarantee - Cancel at any time!

On the third day of Fafmiss, my true love gave to me...


Three Freedom hens...

two Aris gloves,
and a pitchfork in a zombie.

On the second day of Fafmiss, my true love gave to me...


Two Aris gloves...

and a pitchfork in a zombie.

"Season's Greetings, Gizzard," says me.

"AAAARRRRGGGGGFFFFFFFFF!" Says Gizzard.

"What's wrong buddy? Looks like we're gonna have the first white winter since mean ol' Al Gore fired up his heat ray!"

"I don't like the sounds of that, 'Season's Greetings,' Falkor. What happened to 'Happy Holidays?'"

"'Season's Greetings' is all inclusive, Gizzard! Isn't that wonderful?"

"NO!" Says Gizzard, "I told those guys we shouldn't surrender the War on Christmas to the Politicalcorrectofascists!"

"Shhhh! Careful what you say there, Gizzard. I hope The Agency wasn't listenin' when ya said the C-word!" Says me. "Look, 'Season's Greetings' is better. Everybody observes the seasons! It's just more inclusive and respectful."

"You can't police respect, Falkor! It can't be legislated."

"Tell that to President Clinton (44) and the '09 Congress. Remember? The very first thing they did was pass the 'There's No Christ in Xmas' constitutional amendment. Then they brought the country along by withholding all pork barrel spending 'til 2/3 a the states ratified it," says me.

"Yes," says Gizzard. "Alas, brave Montana just couldn't hold out without their border-fence money--- And they were being invaded with illegals! Bless their hearts."

"Just be cool, Gizzard," says me. "Knock it off with the 'Holiday' thing, ok?"

"There's nothin' wrong with 'holiday!' Who doesn't like a day off from work?"

"Gizzard, 'holiday' means 'holy day.' Not everyone is holy." says me.

"Holiday. Holiday! HOLIDAY!! HOLY DAY!!!"

"Stop, Gizzard, stop! Please, it's a fragile peace. You're gonna start another War!" Says me.

"We should have had this war back in '09. We shoulda had it good. This time we'll give them a war: A HOLY WAR!"

"Oh no. Gizzard! The Agency Police are here. ... Take it easy on him, guys. ... I know you can't talk with the hood on, Gizzard, but if you can hear me, have a great season! I promise I'll come find you in the New Year! Whatever it takes. ... Keep your spirits up! I hear the gulags are full of spirit this time of year. I'll miss ya ol' buddy! ... Mr. Agent, where are you taking him? ... Ooo! He get's to go for a helicopter ride?! ... Did ya hear that, buddy? YOU GET TO GO FOR A HELICOPTER RIDE! ... Hey, Mr. Agent what ya doin now? OOF! Hey, why'd ya hit me with your flashlight for? OOF! Hey, STOP! ... OOF!---"

Season's Greetings from I Miss Fafblog, Spot!

On the first day of Fafmiss, my true love gave to me...


A pitchfork in a zombie.

This week the Bush administration acknowledged that it is considering doing away with health standards that cut lead from gasoline, widely regarded as one of the nation's biggest clean-air accomplishments. The Environmental Protection Agency says revoking those standards might be justified given that battery makers, lead smelters, refiners all have lobbied the administration to do away with the Clean Air Act limits.

The Iraq Study Group Report

Superman tried in vain to find any survivors from Iraq. He found out that it was all blown up and the information he heard about it wasn't true. He knew he had to come home, and he was very sad.

Unluckily, his plane almost got completely lost due to unstable weather. Captain Hamilton ordered the crew to change course towards some lights. They were caused by a coronal mass ejection that almost lead them to deliberate destruction!

Finally home, Superman, disguised as 'James Baker' returned to his work as co-chairman of a congressional bipartisan commission. He got upset when he discovered that 'Sandra Day O'Connor,' his co-worker, had a family of her own. He had always been in love with her.

Little did Superman know that it was his old nemesis, Lex Luthor, who was behind the wrong 'Iraq' information that had sent him away. Luthor was a heartless man. He once crushed a staff member to death with his cowboy boots. Now he planned to create a whole new Middle East out of sand tainted with Kryptonite, the poison that kills Superman. His mad dream would finally be fulfilled...

That being said, this book sure doesn't break any new ground. I guess that's not what it is attempting to do, so maybe it should be evaluated on those terms.

George "Dubya" Bush and Richard "Tricky Dick" Nixon battle it out for title of "worst president ever."


Hey, I just got the tape, so let's take a look at the match of the century.

Americans were already chanting "Dubya!" before the ring announcer even got started. Nixon came out first and the place went insane. Loud "Dick!" chants. When he got in the ring, everyone suddenly forgot about him, 'cause it was time for George "Dubya" Bush to come out. As soon as he stepped through the curtain, it was mass hysteria. The two shook hands before the match, and then it started.

Tricky Dick's first move was a resumption of the U.S. bombing of North Vietnam. Then he bulled Dubya into the ropes and ordered secret bombing campaigns in Cambodia. America gasped, then chanted "Dubya!" So Dubya took him to the corner and gave him a chop by moving to block federal aid to foreign groups that offered counselling or any other assistance to women in obtaining abortions. The crowd chanted "THIS IS AWESOME!," as Nixon backdropped his way free and knocked Dubya down with his support for Augusto Pinochet's overthrow of the government of Chile. Dick put Dubya in a chokehold with his illegal taps on the phones of numerous journalists and administration officials in an effort to stop leaks. America began to chant "DUBYA!" again. Nixon gave him a few more chops in the corner.

Then Dubya applied his patented "SMIRK," and IT WAS ON, BABY!

They exchanged chops and kicks, hard ones, and then Dick nailed him with a burglary of Dr. Lewis Fielding in search of the psychiatric records of Daniel Ellsberg -- right to the head! They exchanged more chops and kicks. Dick was in there having the easiest five-star match of his career! Dubya suddenly issued his August 2001 Executive Order that has crippled stem cell research in our country and sent Tricky Dick flying over the ropes into the front row, and it looked even better than it reads here! America chanted "WE DON'T SEE POO!," and then everybody screamed in unison when Dubya gave him a DDT on the floor with his $1.3 trillion tax cut for the wealthiest Americans! Dubya took him in the ring and hit Nixon with two additional tax cuts: the Job Creation and Worker Assistance Act of 2002 and the Jobs and Growth Tax Relief Reconciliation Act of 2003, which automatically added a full star to this match. America chanted "THIS IS AWESOME!"

Then the chop battle really began. They chopped and chopped and chopped and sweat flew and Dubya kept chopping away. Nixon' was already all bruised to hell, and I had a strong suspicion there were way more chops to come. There were dueling "DICK!" and "DUBYA!" chants. Dick finally took one chop too many -- ordering a break-in of Democratic Party headquarters at the Watergate Hotel in Washington -- then went for a powerbomb. He got it -- into the turnbuckles, in fact. As America chanted "HOLY POO!," Dick hit the musclebuster and made the cover, but Dubya withdrew US support for several international agreements, including the Kyoto Protocol, the International Criminal Court, and the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty with Russia. The country went nuts! Dick ordered Archibald Cox, the special prosecutor in the Watergate case, to be fired to choke Dubya out, but wily "43" slipped free. Dick powerbombed him with authorized hush money to Watergate burglar E. Howard Hunt. The crowd chanted "PLEASE DON'T QUIT!" DUBYA did not, in fact, quit. He crawled and crawled and was about to grab the ropes when Dick ordered an illegal cover-up. America went quiet. This was not the finish they wanted. Then a battered Dubya got the ropes with his foot.

Suddenly Dubya slipped behind and hit Dick with his famous "hands-off" approach to the conflict between Israel and the Palestinians in wake of rising violence. Dubya then hit him with a succession of chops in the corner: responding to the September 11 terrorist attacks by invading Iraq (ostensibly to pre-empt Iraqi WMD deployment and remove Saddam from power), by retaining Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld (whose dismissal had been demanded by many in the U.S. Congress), and by signing the Military Commissions Act of 2006 into law after the Supreme Court said his detainee interrogation program was illegal. Then he paused and gave the hapless Nixon a few more for good measure: installing the controversial John Bolton as U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations via a recess appointment, by pushing a major initiative to privatize Social Security, and using the very first veto of his presidency against the Stem Cell Research Enhancement Act. Dick was bloody and bruised. No fun to be him! Dubya then gave him another half-nelson German, and this one, it would be safe to say, Dick got all of -- Dubya gave a horribly flawed response to one of the worst natural disasters in the nation's history, Hurricane Katrina, but Dick grabbed the ropes. Dubya put on a sleeper on him with his warrantless and otherwise congressionally unauthorized eavesdropping on telephone calls under the Terrorist Surveillance Program. The crowd wasn't sure what to make of that. Then Bush killed Nixon with his refusal to engage directly with the North Korea, making it almost impossible to stop Pyongyang from going ahead with its plans to build, test and deploy nuclear weapons. Right onto Dick's head! Dick, however, WOULD NOT QUIT!!! He fought back by secretly bombing Laos, but then Dubya blocked that by using public sentiments following 9/11 for political purposes and lying about the cause for war in Iraq.

And that was the end of Tricky Dick.

something which a lack of would create chaos


Friday pie...must...stop...chaos! RARRHH!