Address my comparison of completely unrelated anecdotes, libs!

Jo’berg himself posts one of his commenter’s follow up on Dylan’s non-arrest versus Gates’ arrest:

– Black professional with ID, in his own house, is arrested.

– Disheveled looking white man with no ID snoops around someone else’s house (Dylan got curious at a ‘for sale sign” and looked through the window, prompting the call to the police) gets a ride to his hotel.

The commenter notes that, um, this is, er, what the ‘race mongers’ would say.

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no Lucianne at home
Like a complete chode
Like a Doughy Load?

Dear Jo-Gold,

Snooping around someone’s house = prowler.
Looking into windows = peeping tom

Each one of these is an actual crime.

Being demonstrably inside one’s own house = legal resident.

Hey, is that a Lil’ Debbie cake?

does Doughy have any feet left?

White person, not arrested… black man, arrested…

C’mon, Jonah! You’re so close! What’s the difference here?

Idiot wind, blowing through the Cheetos in his teeth

Your “shorter” was actually longer than that lazy cock’s post.

But…but…sigh.

Wow, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen someone use the thing itself as an argument against it. Well not this ineptly anyways.

Jonah: “What, Gates wasn’t tasered… and neither was Dylan. The law is colorbling, like I said.”

OT but worth commenting on: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2c-JEx-Kfvc

d’oh, didn’t look at the date. Still lunacy, but not worth commenting on.

Pantload Fail Revisited.

It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

Now, who went and told Doughy who Bob Dylan is or what the movie ‘Rashomon’ is about…

It is a tale told by an idiot, lacking in sound and fury, signifying nothing.

This IS Pantload we’re talking about, after all.

More Pantload lyric parodies, plz.

I need something to keep my spirits up while I work on packing and cleaning in 90 degree weather…

Damn, he is that stupid. Jonah amazingly out-Jonahs himself.

More Pantload lyric parodies, plz.

“Something is happening here, and you don’t know what it is.”

There, I think that covers it.

the fact is you all suck.

If you’re happy where you are
Then you need not look too far
If logic thought’s beyond your grasp
Just pull another pantload from your ass

Being demonstrably inside one’s own house = legal resident.

Wait… black people are allowed to own property now?

You’re all missing the point. Gates wasn’t arrested because he was black. He was arrested because he was rude!

The fact that Dylan was caught out on the street, looking scruffy, with no ID, talking to two young cops who had no idea who he was, bore no relation to his decision to be polite and nonconfrontational, no siree. He was just exercising the Polite Gene™ that is known to be missing from all members of the Negroid race.

Conversely, Gates was and is clearly suffering from Negrosis, aka “Balls, or the dreaded Black Pride,” as the late George W.S. Trow put it. He evidently felt he had a right to be black in his own home without being questioned. Such an attitude demands handcuffs.

The commenter notes that, um, this is, er, what the ‘race mongers’ would say.

When I read the Pantload post I thought that said “race mongrels.” Which would be par for the course, I guess.

Idiot wind, blowing through the Cheetos in his teeth

I like this.

So don’t fear if you hear
A farting sound to your ear
It’s alright, Ma, It’s only Jonah

Trifecta.

Four poster.

You could put a hundred monkeys on a hundred toilets…

and the first thing they’d produce would be a Pantload column.

commie atheist troll.

You could put a hundred monkeys on a hundred toilets…

and the first thing they’d produce would be a Pantload column.

Ahh. see, I was wondering why there was no toilet in that picture, and now realize that there are, in fact, hundreds of toilets underneath the hundreds of monkeys.

I don’t want to know what is underneath Jonah, and will stop typing now before I kill myself in self defense.

If it had been Smokey Robinson instead of Bob Dylan the argument might hold up. But how stupid do you have to be to think that highlighting the fact that a white guy does not get arrested and a black guy does proves that it’s not about race? And how do people that stupid make through life long enough to reach adulthood? Where is Darwin when you need him. What I’d reaaly love to see is some cops show up at Cheney’s house to ask him some question without recognizing who he is. Talk about potential for rudeness!

Ahh. see, I was wondering why there was no toilet in that picture

Not to worry. There’s a new T-shop in queue for posting later today.

Your “shorter” was actually longer than that lazy cock’s post.

No kidding. That entire post consisted of emails that other people wrote.

As Tbogg once said, if Jonah were any lazier his wife would have to feed him by chewing up his food and spitting it into his mouth.

Oh, where have you been, my freeloading son?
Oh, where have you been, my doughy young one?
I’ve stumbled to the store for twelve dewy mountains,
I’ve walked and I’ve crawled for six bags of Cheetos,

And how do people that stupid make through life long enough to reach adulthood? Where is Darwin when you need him.

I assume you mean the cops. Give ’em a break. I’m in late middle age, and this is like me not recognizing, say, Count Basie or Tommy Dorsey if I met them at age 20 on the street in an environment and under circumstances utterly unrelated to music or celebrity.

You may assume from this that I’m no genius, and you’d be right. But I still don’t see why cops should be expected to carry pop culture encyclopedias around in their heads, on top of all the other things they have to remember.

More Pantload lyric parodies, plz.

We live to serve, Dr. Missus:

Bloated wingnut sucking welfare from the Right’s tit
Got stank all over you.
Drop a little Pantload from your hole.
Not that I had a point to begin with
Nay, but your facts will ne’er contradict it
Drop a little Pantload from your hole.

I’ve walked and I’ve crawled for six bags of Cheetos

An’ it’s a stupid rain gonna fall

What the point of having all these toilets around here if we’re soon to be out of toilet paper, just like Russia.

I was toying with Jack of Hearts, for the “justice” motif, but then Jo-Load would have to be the Jack and he’s just not that clever. I thought about Hurricane for similar reasons, but it’s too much work. Also, I’m hung over. Also. And my interducts iz slo. And such as.

I’m asking you readers to send me tweaked Dylan lyrics for my next comment.

So that I would not feel like such a choad
Everybody must read doughy pantload
~

And how do people that stupid make through life long enough to reach adulthood? Where is Darwin when you need him.

I assume you mean the cops.

No, I meant Jonah. To tell the truth, I would probably not recognize Dylan if I saw him walking down the street.

That hole at the top there is just begging to be filled.

I love how Pantload actually makes our case for us without ever realizing it. Of course awareness of any sort is far above his pay grade.

How many times can a man be this wrong,
Before someone fires my sorry ass?
The answer, my friend,
I blowing like everything every single other thing I’ve ever written

As Tbogg once said, if Jonah were any lazier his wife would have to feed him by chewing up his food and spitting it into his mouth.

Are you sure she doesn’t?

“Something is happening here, and you don’t know what it is.”-

If this applies to Mr. Jonah they will have to change the name of that song.

Alternate shorter Jøhan LœdedHösen: The fact that more black people than white people were lynched in the U.S. clearly illustrates which is the more law-abiding group of citizens in this country.

Slightly longer Jøhan LœdedHösen: This is a clear victory for white men who “accidentally” climb trees and totally not on purpose look in women’s windows while they’re changing clothes!

This is a clear victory for white men who “accidentally” climb trees and totally not on purpose look in women’s windows while they’re changing clothes!

I think Jonah is projecting a bit there.

Jonah’s in the basement, mixing up his metaphors

Oh, where have you been, my freeloading son?
Oh, where have you been, my doughy young one?
I’ve stumbled to the store for twelve dewy mountains,
I’ve walked and I’ve crawled for six bags of Cheetos,
I’ve stepped in the middle of seven bad analogies,
I’ve been out in front of a dozen wingnut notions,
I’ve been ten thousand miles away from sanity,
And it’s a doughy, and it’s a doughy, it’s a doughy, and it’s a doughy,
And it’s a doughy load’s a-gonna fall.

Shitberg’s advice on how to avoid being arrested is to tell the cop he is pretty and has a big gun and invite him back to your hotel room?

So that would mean Gates’ crime was in not inviting Crowley in for a drink and light conversation?

Or offering him $20 and a blowjob.

(Granted, Allen didn’t know he was propositioning a cop, I just like to mention the Funniest Republican Bust evar when I can.)

He’s so unhip that when you say Dylan he thinks you’re talking about Dylan Thomas, whoever he was. The man ain’t got no culture!

They’ll p0wn you when you’re trying to be so good
They’ll p0wn you just like they said they would
They’ll p0wn you when you’re trying to go home
They’ll p0wn you in your basement all alone
But I would not feel so all alone
Every wignut must get p0wned

So there are these two stories that have nothing in common with one another except cops. How telling!

So there are these two stories that have nothing in common with one another except cops. How telling!

And famous people who go unrecognized.

Jonah’s in the basement, mixing up his metaphors

I’m on the innertrons thinking about neocons
The man in the loaded pants
Weenie out, socks off
Says he’s got a bad cough
Thinks it’s time to wank off

Of course Jonah discounts the possibility that by July 23, about a week after the Gates incident that was monopolizing the airwaves 24/7 maybe Dylan figured, hey, I really don’t want to be in the news like that guy, and knew better than to fuss.

Oh, but it was because he’s a white guy, right?

I actually was the object of a fit of anger on the part of Bob Dylan, about a year ago, over a minor issue. Let’s just say that every human being has some issue that turns him into an asshole – perhaps being stopped by the cops peeking in someone else’s window in a strange neighborhood isn’t one of Bob’s, but something else might be.

The fact that Bob blew a gasket over a concert announcement on a venue marquee doesn’t reflect well on Skip Gates, and is good news for John McCain.

there are, in fact, hundreds of toilets underneath the hundreds of monkeys.
I don’t want to know what is underneath Jonah

You can’t fool me, young man. It’s toilets all the way down.

Not to worry. There’s a new T-shop in queue for posting later today.

Even if I didn’t love the T-shops, it would be worthwhile to post it just to annoy Doug Watts.

WP does not like my “toilets all the way down” comment. It is a mystery.

Suggested caption: The last thing a sammich ever sees.

There must be some way out of here said the Jo’berg to the queef
Too much confusion now, won’t a reader e-mail me some relief.
Teabaggers, they drink my dew, Cheetos fill my girth,
None of them along the tubes know what any of it is worth.

No reason to get doughy, the queef he kindly spoke
There are many pundits among us who feel Obama’s certificate of live birth is but a joke
But you and I, we’ve been through that, and that is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now, Glenn Beck is on at eight

All along the comment thread, the trolls hit preview
While the wingnuts came and went, Pam Atlas too.
Outside in the distance a wildcat did lol,
Two ACORN members were approaching, the wind began to howl.

The only real conversation about race this country is having lately is white people conversing about how uptight black people are.

Heck, it’s just a ghost costume, guys. Get over yourselves. And without the torches how could we see your lawn?

Seriously, though, Bob Dylan — like most creative people — is an honorary person of color/ fag/ woman/ minority of your choice. It’s one of the mixed blessings of being an artist. You get pretty good at deferring to the poh-lease as a result. They don’t like your hair, your clothes, your attitude, and especially them weirdos you’re hanging around with. There ought to be a ceremony: congratulations, you’re an artist. Here’s your laurels. Now start running. We’ll give you a five-minute head start.

So the troubadour knows to shut the fuck up, while the perfesser — who is, by dint of his station in life, an honorary white person — forgets he’s not really a full citizen. What’s the result? They both ended up going to the police station. So one went quietly and the other made a fuss, what’s the fucking difference? They were both handcuffed by people with guns.

Caught in a similar situation, Mr. Shortsloaf wouldn’t have made it off the curb before he was weeping and begging for mercy, and if he made it all the way to the clink, he’d be calling lawyers to take his case to the Supreme Court.

Pray god he’s not insured and has ass cancer.

Outside in the distance a wildcat did lol,

heh

chew, doughy, chew
chew on your cud awhile

until your deadline looms
you spit and then you hit the Send

The funniest thing on that page might be the ad for the Churchill “Warlord” book, lionizing as on of the “West’s greatest warriors” somebody who would have been toast if FDR hadn’t sent several billion dollars and millions of Americans to his aid.

Well, Doughy Load and Judas Priest,
They were the best of friends.
So when Doughy Load needed money one day,
Judas quickly pulled out a roll of tens

I don’t want to know what is underneath Jonah

It’s pantloads all the way down.

There’s a line in Nabokov’s Despair in which the narrator, who owns a chocolate factory, says:

“Chocolate, as everyone knows, (let the reader here imagine a description of its making).”

Someone should alert JoGo to it. It’s right up his alley. The Alley of Lassitude.

I heart this thread.

What the point of having all these toilets around here if we’re soon to be out of toilet paper, just like Russia.

We’re going French, fag or both and getting bidet squirters. As an added benefit, they’ll be able to give you a gaybortion in the privacy of your own home! NO COPAY!

Jonah, not makin’ a big deal unlike those liberal fascist race mongers(seriously? Mongers? Jesus.):Sure, the differences are real, but they don’t all reflect well on Gates.

In fact, the differences in how cops treat black people in their own homes vs. white people peering in those of strangers are central to his point.

We’re going French, fag or both and getting bidet squirters. As an added benefit, they’ll be able to give you a gaybortion in the privacy of your own home! NO COPAY!

Another bidet, another bidollar

“I was dreaming of Jonah
and the world’s longest sammitch…”

Is the take-away supposed to be that given the choice between arresting a famous dirty 60’s white hippie and a famous black professor, cops should choose the latter?

So, I’m the only TBMG in a sea of Dylan? Boy, did I take a wrong turn at Albuquerque.

As Tbogg once said, if Jonah were any lazier his wife would have to feed him by chewing up his food and spitting it into his mouth.

Are you sure she doesn’t?

Judging from that photo above, perhaps she does.

At least this shows that Dylan is losing cultural relevance.

Frankly, that’s about the only thing newsworthy about the Dylan story, other than the irony of a 60s icon having a non-confrontational interaction with The Man.

Doughload, though… Wow.

One has to wonder just how he sees, say, Aesop’s Fables, or the Parables of Jesus. Tortoise and the Hare? Why, clearly the hare should win. He’s faster. The only problem was he couldn’t find a cab. Have you tried to get a cab these days? And that grasshopper? Should have moved to Miami. I mean, what was he thinking? The Boy Who Cried Wolf? I bet things would have gone a bit different if he cried “nigger” that last time. They would in my neighborhood, let me tell you. That Samaritan guy winds up two pieces of silver down on the deal. Do you think that uninsured deadbeat is going to make good on that? Do you?

etc.

Non-confrontational, as in not-getting-beat-down-for-being-a-loud-mouth-hippie.

To be clearer.

Tortoise and the Hare? Why, clearly the hare should win. He’s faster. The only problem was he couldn’t find a cab. Have you tried to get a cab these days?

The Tortoise would have been slower even if there were a cab, because no cab would ever stop for a Tortoise. This is because Tortoises are known to be rude to cab drivers, which is his own fault.

This may explain the current mental condition of the idiots showing up at town halls.

Fungus manipulates infected ants into doing what fungus wants

This may explain the current mental condition of the idiots showing up at town halls.

It is certainly the best explanation I have seen yet. It would also explain their opposition to universal healthcare.

Well, are you going to pick up a Tortoise on a dark street? Even a pedestrian can understand that.

Also, shorter everything the Pantload has ever done.

Thank you, justme. That picture will make a somewhat altered re-appearance here in the near future.

Can somebody tell me where I can get some of that Winston Churchill toast? I’ve run out of biscuits and I’m feeling rather peckish?

MY ZOMBIE ANT ARMY WILL SUBDUE YOU ALL!!!

I sometimes get worked up on “different than” being used instead of “different from”. But maybe I shouldn’t, considering “different that” might be coming into style. I get what the term “mostly minority” means, but it’s still kind of funny (also, Long Branch is 68% White, compared to 74% for the US as a whole, if you ignore that many people make a distinction between Latino and non-Latino Whites, so it’s not exactly Little Brazzaville here, plus it would be an irrelevant detail if true).

kingubu, thanks for the clew — now I know the tune to your song.

Laziest man in the world, according to what the Children’s Digest said was a Chinese folk tale, was this great fat git who just lay around all the time. His wife had to go on a journey for family reasons, so she baked him a bunch of biscuits and strung them around his neck and left him under a tree. When she got back home, she found that he had starved to death, and all the biscuits were still there, except for the ones right in front.

I still don’t know why his name’s Jonah. Isn’t that the name of someone who popped out of a … hey, why’d this light bulb just go off?

Okay, I’ll give it a shot. The last verse of “Tangled up in Blue.”

So now I’m goin’ back again
To the all-you-can-eat buffet
All the people we used to know
Have been voted all away
Some are NRO editors
Some are publishers’ sons
Here’s another column I farted
A straw man about cool dudes with guns
But me, I’m still the Pantload
Headin’ for a burger joint
I always did see things insane
Which is central to my point of view
Fingers off my food!

[Scuse my finGAHS!]

Doctorb:

I sometimes get worked up on “different than” being used instead of “different from”. But maybe I shouldn’t, considering “different that” might be coming into style.

“Different than” doesn’t bother me, but I’ve read several books lately, by well-known and obviously well-educated British scientists, with a “different to” on practically every page. It’s kind of like a little poke in the eye every time. Is this acceptable in British usage nowadays? Anybody?

Mama take this load off of me
My pants can’t hold it any more
It’s getting too dark to see
So I’m knockin’ on K-Lo’s door

Knock knock knockin’

Oh, mama, can this really be the end?
To be stuck inside the Corner with the Pantload blues again.

We object to our product being referred to as a fungus.

How does it feel
to have in your home
a complete unknown
who directs you to get prone
or you’re gonna be boned

You know which other white guy was polite to the cops and was released? Jeffrey Dahmer, which is central to my point.

Are you going to finish that frozen cheesecake?

May your shoelaces be connected,
May your vases all be Ming,
May they crash down from your mother’s shelf
When you spread your arms to sing.
May you put ladders through your windows
And bash your head on every gong,
May you stay forever wrong,
Forever wrong, forever wrong,
May you stay forever wrong.

Dylan in his ode to Sadly, No!:

Brains in the pot, they’re beginning to boil
They’re dripping with garlic and olive oil

And no mention of ‘Floater (Too Much To Ask) in the comments?

So I’m knockin’ on K-Lo’s door

The mental image I have now in my head leads me to ponder upon the non-existence of the sting of death, and the victory of the grave. Also.

It’s all free folks.

I love how Pantload actually makes our case for us without ever realizing it. Of course awareness of any sort is far above below his pay grade.

I fix for you, good sir.

the non-existence of the sting of death
THis brings up memories of a UK comic strip from the 1990s in which Death plays occasional cameo roles. He has runes inscribed on his scythe. Examined closely, they prove to read “Here is my sting”.

The Lonesome Blogging of Doughy Pantload

Jonah Goldberg writes for National Review
On a laptop he taps with Cheetoh stained fingers
About a story that appeared on somebody’s blogspot
A story his interns had to read to him
One that involved an aging folk rocker
A story that clearly was central to his point
That black men were mean and angry and scary

And you who philosophize, disgrace
And criticize all fears
Take the pantload away from your screen
Now is the time for your jeers

Speaking of racism…

I’m not worthy to parody Bob D. Thomas, so I’ll riff the most famous B-Side in all of Xmas music:

Jonah the wingnut loser
Had a very Panting Load;
All of the other wingnuts
Used to call J. a choad.
They never let poor Jonah
Talk in any wingnut frames;
They all said poor Pantload
Would leave Lucianne ashamed.

Then how teh wingnuts loved him,
As they stalled about with glee:
Jonah the Doughy Pantload,
You’ll FAIL like you ought to be!!

Tintin,

More than welcome, and I await with excitement.

I’ve got a plan for an animated gif starring Der Lodedhosen. We’ll see if it comes to pass, so to speak.

Mama take these pants offa me
I can’t wear them any more.
It’s getting dark too dark to type
Feels like I’m knocking on lunch’s door.

Munch munch munchin’ on lunch’s door

Mama keep those fascists offa me
They won’t respect my authority
They have read books that aren’t mine
And it feels like I’m knocking on lunch’s door

Munch munch munching on lunch’s door

Mama put my cheetos in the ground
I don’t want them lying round
Derb or someone will scoff them down
While I am stealing his lunch pail

munch munch munching on lunch’s door.

Jonah blogs on Corner, NRO
Some folks think he’s really just K-Lo
Plucked hir eyebrows on the way
Shaved a leg and then he was a she
Pantload says, hey babe, Fascism’s on the left side
Said, Katherine Jean, Fascism’s on the left side

Doughy is the spawn of Lucianne
The Tripp tapes and a stained blue dress was their in
But they never lost their heads
Hey Teh Clenis was gettin’ head
They say, hey babe, Fascism’s on the left side
Military authoritarians lurve them hippies on the left side
And the coloured girls go

doo-do-doo-do-doo….

With an own goal like that, Jonah’s just lucky he’s not on the Columbian soccer team

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andr%C3%A9s_Escobar

Oh, why not?

Hey! mr. tambourine man, write a post for me,
I’m so lazy and there is no place i’m going to.
Hey! mr. tambourine man, write a post for me,
A good wingnut angle and i’ll come followin’ you.

Though i know that evilist empire has returned to sand,
And my dick done vanished from my hand,
Left me to sit here blindly and still not thinking.
My weariness amazes me, i’m stranded on my feet,
I have nothing to left to eat
And the ancient empty feedbag too dead for dreaming.

Hey! mr. tambourine man, write a post for me,
I’m so lazy and there is no thought i’m going to.
Hey! mr. tambourine man, write a post for me,
Any old wingnut drivel and i’ll come followin’ you.

That picture has me considering the mechanical challenges of shooting a sammich out of tennis ball machine. Or maybe just broken glass.

Y’know, one doesn’t have to fiddle too much with Dylan’s lyrics to mock Goldberg:

In a soldier’s stance, I aimed my hand at the mongrel dogs who teach
Fearing not that I’d become my enemy in the instant that I preach
My pathway led by confusion boats, mutiny from stern to bow

Except:

Ah, but I was just a nepotism hire then, I’m dumber than that now.

Visions of Jonah

Ain’t it just like the Pantload
He’s a prick–there’s no way to deny it.
Producing huge pantloads of dough
Thinking readers will buy it.
With his pompous airs, facial hairs
and Cheetoh-based diet,
Making points so ridiculous
You’re amazed that he’d actually try it!

He’s sure got a lot of gall.
To be so useless and all
With essays and blogs that appall
And a conscience so small.

No semblance of intellect
Resides in the mind of this fool.
But his visions of self-grandeur
Will not die. What a tool!