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  Blog Noir. An interplay of cultural references, snark, the occasional smutty joke, Dadaism, Mamaism, and a genuine outrage at the horrors of The Situation.

--to paraphrase Freddy el Desfibradddoro
Sunday, November 25, 2007

Since Reverend Cavendish has taken a leading role in the Giuliani campaign’s “Keep us from losing the lunatic fringe to Mike Huckabee” triage committee, we’ve asked Cappy Rudyard to elaborate on the “Waveland Theory” that was outlined in the comments section two weeks ago.

IMF,S: Thank you for taking the time out to talk with us. How are you?
CR: My casks are bung up and bilge free, guvnor, thank ye.
IMF,S: Cappy Rudyard, can we call you Cappy?
CR: Me ma used to call me Cappy, but twere confusin’ since me pa was also called Cappy.
IMF,S: I see. Turning to the “Waveland Theory” that Old Tom floated last week, could you briefly explain it to our happy band of loyal readers?
CR: It’s like I was sayin’ to Old Tom: Ain’t ye noticed that the laws that govern the television are completely different from a what they used to be? “Black Friday” shopping news can be the lead story on Thursday, on Friday, and on the weekend? That people can talk about such dandy funk as if they be talking about news, and then take a moment about government or war and wink at you the whole time, as if they are saying: “Can you believe we both have to pretend to care about this?” It be a sea change.
IMF,S: If you only watch Fox or CNN. . .
CR: Aye, but it ain’t just them. Cast yer mind to a world in which bad economic news like the dollar fallin’ and the debt risin’ doesn’t effect what goes on in the news. Would such a thing have seemed possible eight years ago?
IMF,S: It does seem a little surreal. But you’re not suggesting a conspiracy?
CR: Nay, Young Master Imfs, I am nay suggestin’ anything of the kind. But even if I were suggestin’ a conspiracy, sometimes there are conspiracies. Ask yourself, can it really be a coincidence that you can re-arrange the letters in “Sandra Dee” to spell “Sad era end”? Instead, I am suggesting that the television is a porthole into another world entirely.
IMF,S: This is the world you call “Waveland”?
CR: Aye, ‘tis that.
IMF,S: So these are not real people we are seeing on our televisions?
CR: Ask yerself: Have you ever met a bugger as completely lacking in self-respect as Chris Matthews? Or a lobcock with as little self-knowledge as Tim Russert? And blowholes like the radio lickspittles – I don’t believe even Bob Louis Stevenson could have imagined a shuddering sphincter like Rush Limbaugh. There ain’t that many barkin’ an’ brayin’ tomfools available, and yet it seems as if they’re the only ones who wander into the studios!
IMF,S: So they are from another planet?
CR: They be from another dimension entirely. How else can ye explain their lack of empathy for human beings dying in far away lands? It’s because they have nought but scorn for our race.
IMF,S: But, why, Cappy? Why spend their time doing this?
CR: Ain’t you figured it out? They are eggin’ us on to destroy ourselves. Look how far they’ve got in such a short time. They are awaitin' our self-destruction, then to swoop into our dimension and eat our radioactive and rat-eaten carcasses like so many tasty hors d'oeuvres.
IMF,S: And are you worried that by telling others about this, you are putting yourself in danger?
CR: Young Master Imfs, I’m already between wind and water. There ain’t nothin’ the wavelanders can do to me that the cat o' nine tails ain’t already done.
IMF,S: Thank you for your time.
CR: I bid you good afternoon, Young Master Imfs! Now, I will go fishing with my friend Colin out on Black Lake.

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