As you know, ever since Spatula City BBS! left the orbit of Planet Bogshplat, we've run on a platform of Movable Type 3.15.  And it's served us well here, for the most part.

But, as Geddy Lee once said, "changes aren't permanent - but change is".  The time has come to part ways with Movable Type, and rebuild this fine blog upon another platform.

Therefore, later on today Spatula City BBS! will come down for a short period and convert from Movable Type 3.15 to Wordpress 2.6.  With any luck, the changeover will be (other than the cosmetic appearance) relatively seamless.

There are three reasons for the conversion to Wordpress:

1) This current version of MT doesn't handle spam terribly well.  The filter, MT-Blacklist, is pretty much a reactive filter - you have to tell it what to block, and even then it's not terribly efficient.  Our filter here is chock full, and still we continue to get spam-bombed.  I'm tired of having to deal with it all.

By contrast, Wordpress is outfitted with a filter called Akismet.  It's working extremely well on the Rott, and that hasn't escaped my notice.

2) Ever since Mykki Chickenshit's dick-sucking sycophant pussified minions decided to come in here and try shitting on my carpet, I've had to moderate comments.  That's also tiresome.  Besides, I'm sure that The Six Or Seven Of You Who Still Read Me™ would prefer (as would I) to see your comments hit the blog in realtime.  Wordpress will allow us to do that here.

3) MT's "shareware" version (which is what this is) only allows for one author to a blog.  (The full version that allows multiple authors cost $69 two years ago, I can only guess it's gone up since then, and I'm not independently wealthy.)

I have, for a long time now, wanted this blog to have multiple authors.  More authors means more posts, and potentially more traffic.

MERLIN:  Not to mention less work for you.

LSIK&T:  Shut up, conehead.

MERLIN: 

The plan is to build a Four Right Wing Wackos/Rott-style blog here, with multiple authors writing multiple posts per day.  More of My Eternal...

KORRIOTH:  Ahem.

uh, Our Eternal Wisdom™ for you, the masses.

The conversion will begin here in a bit.  Keep your eyes peeled.

Spats, having downed the aforementioned keg of peach-tea-flavored Theragen derivative, is now attempting to rest before the next encounter.  A chime, the location of which Our Hero™ cannot place, is insisting on his attention.

Spats sits up in bed, palms trying unsuccessfully to push back the throbbing migraine-like pain shooting out of his eye sockets.]

[I hate it when he calls me that.]

LSIK&T:  I know.  That's why I do it. 

[Sorry, m'lord, no.  McCool took the last six I had - something about too much Romulan ale again.]

LSIK&T:  That does it; I'm getting me a sober Chief Engineer.  [The chime sounds again.]  WHAT?!?!?!?!?

[A holographic figure rises from the floor.  As Spats was earlier, this figure is also wearing a hooded cloak.]

HOODED FIGURE:  You have done well, my you...my middle-aged padawan.

[Spats squints at the figure with one half-open eye.]

LSIK&T:  Aren't you dead?

HOODED FIGURE:  What I am or am not is not important.  What is  important---

LSIK&T:  And I'm not your padawan, either!  You never gave me  any formal Sith training, Palpy, remember?  I learned at the hand of Darth Mortis, if you'll recall.

HOODED FIGURE:  You will properly address me as 'Master', my apprentice.

LSIK&T:  You're lucky I'm only calling you Palpy, and I said  I'm not your padawan!

HOODED FIGURE:  But you have  used your Sith talents again.  I felt the disturbance in the Force.  It is why I am here - to start you back on your training.

LSIK&T:  Well, to paraphrase a little green mutual acquaintance of ours, I need no further training.  Already know all I'm going to need.

HOODED FIGURE:  You know nothing of the Dark Side of the Force, padawan.  You still require much training to become truly powerful.

LSIK&T:  I already am  truly powerful.  I'm alive, have my powers and  rule my own little part of the galaxy.

[Spats raises an eyebrow at the hooded hologram]

LSIK&T:  Which is more than I can say for you  as of late.

[A look of extreme rage crosses the hooded one's face and he raises his arms and reaches out towards His Rudeness.]

LSIK&T (quickly):  But if it'll make you happy - and  get you out of my hair - I suppose I can go by my Sith name a little more often.  Satisfied?

HOODED FIGURE:  It is your name as chosen by the Sith Brotherhood.  You are required to identify yourself by that name.

LSIK&T:  You forget, Palpy - I'm a free man.  The Sith long ago demonstrated they did not need me - nor I them, for that matter.

[At that moment, the migraine decides to remind Our Hero™ just why he's in his quarters in the first place.  Spats winces noticeably.]

LSIK&T:  Nor do I need you  RightAboutNow™.  Off with you, before I scramble yer molecules.

HOODED FIGURE:  This is not yet over, my padawan.  You will address me as "Master" eventually.  I have foreseen it.

LSIK&T:  Yeah, yeah, just like you foresaw Endor.  Now git!!!

[The image fades from view.  It is replaced by the ship's intercom.]

KORRIOTH (over speaker):  Bridge to the Admiral.  We are within visual range of the Shelliak homeworld.  They have sent another "welcoming committee"; you may wish to see this.

LSIK&T (under breath):  Aw, shit.  (towards speaker) Very well, Captain.  I'm on my way.

(To be continued...)

Two.

Therefore, sometime next week we'll blow the dust off that phenomonon known around these parts as The Perfect Football Weekend™

Be ready, tell your friends, etc.  ThatIsAll™.

(Spew alert for the Statler & Waldorf tag at the end.)

Be that as it may, I still have to give Steffi credit for one thing:  She ain't Tricia Walsh-Smith.

For the Uninitiated™, this is the blonde-assed bimbo who attempted to try her divorce case in the Court Of Public Opinion™, aka YouTube.  (Go look 'er up yourselves if you want.  This skank makes Angelina Jolie & Amy Winehouse look chaste, and I'm not gonna give her the honor of the linkage.)  The trollop attempted to employ a campaign of character assassination against her husband, Phillip Smith of the Shubert Organization (a theatrical group) by airing her numerous & shrill, screeching grievances on a series of YouTube videos.

Yesterday a Manhattan judge granted Philip Smith, head of the Shubert Organization, a divorce from his wife Tricia Walsh-Smith, who became an internet sensation after making a YouTube video that excoriated her prominent husband for his stash of "Viagra, porn movies, and condoms."

And poor Steffi thought that me finding out about her backbiting me was scandalous. 

The video got over 3 million hits, but the judge was not a fan; yesterday he called it "a calculated and callous campaign to embarrass and humiliate her husband. She has attempted to turn the life of her husband into a soap opera by directing, writing, acting in and producing a melodrama."

I never thought I'd say this, but there's actually a blackrobe in the liberal capital of the East Coast - the same city that hosts houses harbors the New York Slimes  - a blackrobe that actually gets it.

Can my heart stand the strain?

The ruling declares the pre-nuptial agreement to be valid and gives Walsh-Smith thirty days to vacate the Park Avenue apartment owned by her husband, who will pay her $750,000. Smith told reporters he’s “happy with the outcome.” His ex-wife, not so much: “I think it's disgusting,” she said outside the court. "I'm really, really disappointed with the decision. I think it totally sucks. It's a horrible pre-nup. I'd be better off in Baghdad. Bush is bringing democracy to Iraq. He should bring it to New York."

Oh, that's right, you dumb-assed Cupid Stunt™:  Blame it on Bush.  Hell, it works for everything else, from high gas prices to my granny's bunions - why not this? 

Walsh-Smith has vowed to live in a tent in Central Park while her lawyers appeal, but the improved Wi-Fi in Bryant Park might make that park the better choice for uploading her next video.

As long as she's someplace where the pigeons can shit nonstop on her, I don't think I'd mind a bit.

F.H.J.F.H

A federal appeals court on Monday threw out a $550,000 indecency fine against CBS Corp. for the 2004 Super Bowl halftime show that ended with Janet Jackson's breast-baring "wardrobe malfunction."

The three-judge panel of the 3rd U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals ruled that the Federal Communications Commission "acted arbitrarily and capriciously" in issuing the fine for the fleeting image of nudity.

Yeah, just like Justin Timberjerk "acted arbitrarily and capriciously" in doing his part to try and "bring sexy back"?

The 90 million people watching the Super Bowl, many of them children, heard Justin Timberlake sing, "Gonna have you naked by the end of this song," as he reached for Jackson's bustier.

The court found that the FCC deviated from its nearly 30-year practice of fining indecent broadcast programming only when it was so "pervasive as to amount to 'shock treatment' for the audience."

I dunno about you, but I'd think showing 90 million people, a damned good portion of which were kids, for Cthulu's sake, was sufficiently "pervasive" as to comprise "shock value".  I don't see any deviation from the FCC's practice there.

Then again, I've never sat in a star chamber like these three fuckwits have, so my brain hasn't ever had that glorious opportunity to rot.

In a statement Monday, CBS said it hoped the decision "will lead the FCC to return to the policy of restrained indecency enforcement it followed for decades."

"This is an important win for the entire broadcasting industry because it recognizes that there are rare instances, particularly during live programming, when it may not be possible to block unfortunate fleeting material, despite best efforts," the network said.

Oh, hell, See-BS, why don't we just turn every  broadcast network into the Playboy, Penthouse and Hustler channels, eh?  Maybe we can have a channel for stoners & faggots too, huh?

MERLIN:  We already have Bravo  and MTV.

LSIK&T:  Oh.  Yeah, we do, don't we?

Black-robed shitheels. 

Two people emerge - Captain Korrioth and an unidentified figure wearing a hooded cloak.  The hood conceals enough of the face so that we cannot readily identify the indivdual - but the person's eyes are glowing.

In purple.

HOODED FIGURE:  Communications, open a channel to the hostile vessel.

[Communications officer Ensign T-Bone McManx jumps at the voice, but is quick to recover and toggle the requisite switches on his console.]

T-BONE MCMANX:  Uh...channel open, sir.

HOODED FIGURE:  Shelliak vessel.  Your obstinance has caused you to forfeit the opportunity to profit from our building needs.  You will, therefore, surrender and escort us to your base of operations, where we will take possession of the materials and supplies we require to build our battleship.

[Pegasus'  speakers boom with what can only be interpreted as Shelliak laughter.]

SHELLIAK CMDR:  You frighten us not, Lord Spatula.  You are nothing but a puny human leading more puny humans and two scrawny Klingons who could break all your necks with one finger.

[Korrioth and tactical officer Lieutenant K'hadibak'h growl, very loudly.  The hooded figure silences them both with a minimal gesture.]

HOODED FIGURE:  You will surrender or I will destroy your vessel and proceed to your home planet with your wreckage in tow.

[More laughter from the Shelliak.]

SHELLIAK CMDR:  We have scanned your vessel.  Your weaponry is no match for our defensive systems.  Do not deign to threaten us, puny human.  The Shelliak will---

[The hooded figure raises his arms and stretches out his hands as if reaching for the Shelliak vessel.  The Shelliak sneers at the individual.]

SHELLIAK CMDR:  And what do you hope to accomplish with this futile gesture, puny...

[The Shelliak trails off as he begins to notice various indicators in front of him giving off most strange readings.  His bridge crew has also noticed this phenomonon, and are beginning to look amongst themselves in extreme concern.]

SHELLIAK CMDR:  ...what?  What is this?  Overload?  Where??!?! Shut it down, now!!!  WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU CAN'T?!?!?!  (to the hooded figure)  HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS, HUMAN?!?!?!

[The mysterious figure says nothing, but keeps his arms & hands outstretched.  Consoles on the Shelliak vessel are visibly beginning to show signs of severe stress; some are even shorting out, causing massive sparking.  As the figure's arms begin to quiver uncontrollably, we begin to see explosions on the Shelliak vessel.  The Shelliak commander is now extremely angry.]

SHELLIAK CMDR:  Open fire on the enemy vessel!!!

OFFSCREEN VOICE:  We cannot, Captain!  Weapons controls are fused!!!

SHELLIAK CMDR:  Intensify the forwards sheilds!!!

OFFSCREEN VOICE:  Sheilds are down, sir!  We can't reestablish!!!  We are defenseless!

[The Shelliak bridge is on fire now as more explosions rock the ship.  The still-unknown figure is nearing a full-body seizure, but his hands remained outstretched towards the Shelliak vessel.  The Shelliak commander is now in full-bore panic mode.]

SHELLIAK CMDR:  WE SURRENDER!!!!  We will give you anything you want, just spare our ship!!!!  Plea---

[The explosions aboard the Shelliak vessel have become massive, and drown out the Shelliak's remaining pleas.  The figure's arms shake wildly now, his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth grinding on themselves in a fierce grimace.  Pegasus  loses the picture of the Shelliak bridge---]

KORRIOTH:  Shields, NOW!!!!!

[Korrioth is just in time.  An instant later, the Shelliak vessel explodes in a massive fireball, having lost its antimatter containment.

The hooded mystery man collapses to the floor.  Korrioth rushes to his side.]

KORRIOTH:  My lord!  K'hadibak'h, assist!!!

[The two Klingons lift he who has single-handedly destroyed an entire Shelliak vessel simply by raising his arms, and ease him into the command chair.]

K'HADIBAK'H:  My lord, are you alright?!

HOODED FIGURE (weaker than before, but still extremely forceful):  I...will recover.  You may return to your duties, Tactical.

KORRIOTH:  Was it absolutely necessary to destroy the Shelliak, m'lord?

HOODED FIGURE (still speaking from under the hood):  They defied us.  They must learn that there is a price to be paid for defiance.

KORRIOTH:  Still...

HOODED FIGURE:  The galaxy must learn, my friend.  It is one thing to decline business with us.  But it is quite another to show disrespect to us.  To me.

KORRIOTH:  But---

HOODED FIGURE:  No "buts".  We are through playing Mr. Nice Guys of the Galaxy.

[The figure lifts the hood from his head, and is revealed to be Lord Spatula I, King & Tyrant.

Or is it?

Certainly it is the face of His Rudeness™.  But this is a different Spatuls - the cordial, even jovial countenance of the admiral of the Realm™ fleet has been replaced with a grim, determined, dark - even angry - sneer.  A visage with eyes that exude a violent purple glow - as if Our Hero™ had succumbed and surrendered his very soul to some sort of eeevil  inner darkness...]

Spats, Korrioth & K'hadibak'h all turn to glare into the camera.]

LSIK&T:  Would you please  can the melodrama and just tell the damned story???

[Sorry.]

LSIK&T:  Damn, give you a few lines and you wanna take over the whole effin' script.  Geeze!

[Okay, okay.  I'll tone it down a little.]

LSIK&T:  Thank you, sir.  Korrioth, set course for the Shelliak homeworld, warp 8.  Make sure you transmit footage of that last sequence to them and advise them that I'm not in a very good mood, mkay?

KORRIOTH:  Right away, sir.

LSIK&T (rising):  Now, I'll be in my quarters.

KORRIOTH:  Sir...?

LSIK&T:  To down a keg of that peach tea Theragen derivative of yours.  I told  you these powers give me a huge honkin' headache!

---

Denizens, we're one step closer to completion of the IV project.  Won't be long now.  Hang tight.

Now, the original headline wasn't terribly informative - something like "gunman robs Pizza Patrón", I'm thinking, "Dumbass - where're you gonna spend all those pesos  you make off with...?"

Then I read who the perp was.

A Denton pizza worker said she was surprised when a fellow employee overpowered a would-be robber -- and even more surprised by who the bad guy turned out to be.

As Stephanie Martinez was getting money out of a cash drawer, a co-worker, Rudy Sandoval, fought back against the intruder, knocking off his wig and sunglasses.

"He was out on the floor for a good two to three minutes," Mr. Sandoval told NBC-TV's "Today" show this morning.

Whe she saw the face behind the wig and dark glasses, "I dropped the money," Ms. Martinez said. "I said, 'Don't hit him again! That's my dad!' And he said, 'What's he doing here?' and I said, 'I don't know!' "

Well, I  know, little Stephanie.  Your father is a low-life son-of-a-bitch who didn't think twice about robbing from his little girl.  He's one of the piss-poorest excuses for a father that I've ever seen - and I know a redheaded girl in East Texas.

Oh, and here's a picture of the motherfucker, too:

You tell me, Denizens - doesn't that just scream "illegal alien" to you?

Yeah, go ahead and accuse me of "racial profiling".  Like I give a shit.  Besides, it says right here:

Witnesses followed the pickup and helped lead police to it, where Mr. Ramirez, Sonia Palacios, 38, and Jose Miguel Martinez, 26, were arrested.

All three have been charged with aggravated robbery. Mr. Ramirez and Ms. Palacios were being held on immigration violations. Mr. Martinez was free on $50,000 bail.

(Emphasis most certainly added.)

Robbing the daughters Americans won't rob, as it were.

This bastard needs to be given a fair trial, found guilty, had his ugly alien ass sent back across the border - and shot in the back halfway across the bridge.

Democrats keep saying that it will take 10 years or longer to produce oil from the offshore areas. And they say that oil prices won’t decline for at least that long.

HOWEVER...!!!!!

In a dramatic move yesterday President Bush removed the executive-branch moratorium on offshore drilling. Today, at a news conference, Bush repeated his new position, and slammed the Democratic Congress for not removing the congressional moratorium on the Outer Continental Shelf and elsewhere. Crude-oil futures for August delivery plunged $9.26, or 6.3 percent, almost immediately as Bush was speaking, bringing the barrel price down to $136.

Now isn’t this interesting?

Isn't it, indeed?  Bush lifts a moratorium on offshore drilling and just talks  about it, and the price drops nearly 10%.

Kinda makes you wonder what would happen if:  a) the Imperial Socialist Congress dropped its  moratorium, too, and/or b) we actually started to drill.

I'm willing to bet we'd see $60 oil again within three weeks.  Which is why the Demoscum don't want us to drill - they want to keep the price artificially hight, so that we'll be forced to "go green" as it were, and have their wishes forced upon us at the point of an economic gun.

Reason enough for us to go all Malcolm X on the lot of them, if you ask me. 

I might actually have had some good stuff to relate tonight - got plenty of material from which to pick & choose - but then I get an after-hours "WAAAAAAAAAAH" and I have to go shove figurative pacifier in figurative mouth.

Sucks to be me sometimes.  Then again, that's why I get paid the Big Money™...