Let's Settle This the Old Fashioned Way

Which one wears the dress?

I'll give you a tip. DO NOT invite the Fonz. We all know his dance marathon history.

Okay, then, ground rules:

1) Keep it clean; no body checks
2) No jibjab; just dance, dance, dance
3) No revealing clothing; think of the children
4) No politically-charged themes (Texas two step? Keep it out o' here!)
5) Hearty handshakes at the end

Maybe I should just use a variation of the Buckley quote and say something like "Now listen you liberal dittohead, stop calling me a Rush Limbaugh parrot or I'll punch you in the nose and you'll stay plastered."

No. I could never bring myself to punch PJ in the nose, for a number of reasons:

1. I've never in my life punched anybody in the nose, and I wouldn't know how to go about it.

2. I disagree in principle with the concept of punching people in their noses.

3. He might retaliate by punching me in the nose or worse. I also value my teeth. Dental work is expensive, and I have very limited dental coverage.

4. PalestraJon is a lawyer, and picking a lawyer as the target of a punch in the nose strikes me as a particularly bad idea.

I've heard that Buckley quote before and it's always seemed to me to be uncharacteristically inelegant and somewhat obscure in meaning. It's fine up until the part where he's says "and you'll stay plastered." But what does that mean? That Vidal will go down for the count?

I also like the Buckley line that he used in the ending to his answer to a letter from a disgruntled National Review subscriber, "Cancel your own goddamn subscription." It's also the title of a recent Buckley book.

I'm not going to dance with PalestraJon. And that's final.

BTW, I've always understood dance marathons to involve competition among couples. I doubt if we could both find partners. PJ might get JGT, or JMP, or somebody, but I'd probably have no one to ask except Ern, and he'd probably turn me down. (Maybe I could ask smackdown, but I suspect she'd just... well... smack me down.)

I was out at my "club" tonight, and several of my friends, fellow kinsmen, and fellow clansmen (that's "clansmen" with a "c," not a "k") told me that they thought that matters had reached the point with PalestraJon that they saw no alternative but that I issue a challenge to him to meet me on the field of honor. Several of these gentlemen offered to serve as my second, and convey my compliments and my challenge to PalestraJon. (I thought their enthusiasm in this matter to be rather unseemly and unwarrented, but that is another matter, neither here nor there.)

I declined. My reasons are several, and have absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with a concern for my own health and well-being, and reluctance to possibly have a shot enter my breast. First of all, I have always considered the code of the duel to be a barbaric custom which is long overdue to be consigned to the ash-pile or ash-heap, or whatever, of history. Secondly, I believe that PalestraJon is both a husband and father, and I have no desire to contribute to the already large number of widows and orphans in the world. Lastly, I feel that there is altogether too much bloodshed in the world already, and I find bloodshed (particularly my own) to be repellant.

As a consession to PalestraJon, if he insists on satisfaction in this matter, I would consent to meet him on the field of honor to exchange cream pies at one or two paces. I would also consent to a grudge match in the game of Scrabble if he so desires. Let me know. And may God be our judge.

I blame Goodtimes for matters having come to this pass. He is a troublemaker, who is always trying to stir things up. He is willing to sacrifice his friends and to risk any sort of carnage to further his ambitions. He is, in short, a despicable human being. He is beneath my contempt, but he can rest assured that he has it nonetheless.

"Tough Guys Don't Dance" by Norman Mailer.
I don't dance with guys.
I dance with the ladies but only when I have a buzz.
When you go to a bar and see people on the dance floor and you see a guy at the bar laughing and carrying on? That's me.

Instead of dancing maybe Johnny could have a mano-a-mano QUIZZO. (Kind of like what me and Chris had) The 50-50 round could be "Liberal or Conservative".

That's exactly what I would suggest Ern. How about BMT and me vs Bob T (does he ever actually play Quizzo? I remember we had a debate as to whether he actually existed or was another manifestation of Jerome, er, Johnny) and you.

We can take additional liberals/conservatives as people identify themselves.

And no pies---that's for public figures. I might consider a dunk tank though.

Every time I try to get out they PULL me back in! My old friend, Michael Corleone, told me "Now I know how you feel, Darth"
I don't have a dog in this fight. Mano-A-Mano means just that.
Besides, most people who are Conservative (heck, even Moderate) keep a low profile cause they're so vastly outnumbered in Philly.
So...what you're left with is the mysterious Bob T. and me, "The Most Hated Man In QUIZZO".
No! You and Bob T. should have it out. I'll be at the bar laughing and carrying on!

It was your suggestion, Ern. Again, I don't even know if Bob plays Quizzo. I don't even know if he is anything other than Bobby Badtimes II. If he exists, however, what better proof could there be of the intellectual breakdown of the conservative movement (especially in light of WFB's death) than an inability to compete in Quizzo?

Now, Now, P.J. My suggestion was that you and Bob T. have a Mano-A-Mano QUIZZO. Not some Liberal vs. Conservative thing. I thought it would be more dignified than some dance thing which you and Bob T. wouldn't do.
As for the Liberal vs. Conservative thing it wouldn't prove anything intellectually except that one team had a higher score than the other team. The Liberals would stay Liberal; the Conservatives would stay Conservative; and Johnny would get cursed out by the team with the lower score for his choice of questions.

Me and Chris went Mano-A-Mano; he clobbered me; I donated money to a good cause;and we had a good time. There were no hard feelings.

I heard from a reliable source that Chris had the answers ahead of the showdown and spent his time, not studying, but working on ways to look nervous (biting his lip, dabbing his furrowed brow, that sort of thing...)

Chris wouldn't do that. Johnny wouldn't do that either. If he was biting his lip it was to stop from laughing at how much he was clobbering me.

And of course Chris, his team MAGMA, and I all had a good laugh over PJ getting flagged from "Good Dog".

Of course, the Donspiracist should look into my getting flagged in the 4th round of a 1 point Quizzo match against MAGMA. If Chris cheated in your game, there may be a pattern to investigate.

They did me a favor though---that blue cheese burger is bad for the heart.

Why must I suffer the naive? What do you people want, a road map? Pictures? OK, look. Chris's last name is Randolph. That means he has two first names. NEVER trust anyone with two first names. Has history taught you nothing? Ever heard of a fellow named Benedict Arnold? Plus, we have it on good information that Chris is a direct descendant of Lord Randolph (father of Winston Churchill), a questionable character who died at age 45 of advanced syphilis. Know who else died of syphilis? That's right-- Al Capone. Another criminal. Obviously, this is a scurrilous bloodline. Now look where Chris (IF that is his real name) has chosen to steal Johnny's thunder: DIRTY Frank's and the LYON's Den. Lyon? Lyin'? Do I have to spell it out for you? Oh, sorry, I just did. Furthermore, Chris rarely shaves, so we know he's a liberal. Clearly, Ern is a conservative. And everyone knows conservatives are smarter than liberals, so ipso facto, Chris could not have beaten Ern in any kind of intellectual contest. Look, we're not sure yet if Johnny was in on it, but we have one obvious smoking gun here. This evidence cannot be ignored. Really, only one test remains: if we find out Chris weighs the same as a duck, well, watch out.

Henry The VIII also died of Syphilis and a movie about Henry The VIII just started today at the Ritz. Coincidence? I don't think so!

Maybe the loser of the Bob T./PalestraJon QUIZZO will have to buy the winner a Blue Cheese Burger at "Good Dog". They can't have the actual QUIZZO there though. It's too small for the anticipated crowd this event will attract.

I was awakened today by a phone call from my girlfriend. It went something like this:

Bob T: (Groaning.) 'ello. (Clearing throat)... 'scuse me. 'lo. Bob T. 'ere.

GF: (Exasperated tone of voice.) Bob, you fool, what have you gone and done?

Bob T: Wha'? Wha' ya on 'bout now?

GF: You don't remember, do you?

Bob T: (Stalling for time.) ... 'course I 'member. Don' be daft. I just dunno wha' yer 'ferring to.

GF: Check out the Goodtimes' website, you idiot. You seem to have challenged PalestraJon to some sort of stupid duel, or fight, or something. I told you to leave him alone. But, no, not you. You just have to go baiting him and having your stupid arguments with him, don't you? And how many times do I have to tell you that's it's a really stupid idea to be sending out emails to people and posting things on websites at 4 AM after you've been at that stupid bar of yours, hanging out with those lowlifes, for hours... You never think about how I feel, do you? It's always Bob, Bob, Bob with you.

Bob T: (Gulping sound as memory returns. Tries to recover.) Oh, tha'. No big deal. Now don' start wid me. I gotta 'eadache this mornin'.

GF: First of all, it's not morning anymore. And secondly, you know damn well, or at least you should know damn well, why you've got a headache. And thirdly, what the hell is this invitation to dance with Smackeddown, or whatever the hell her damn name is, all about? You bastard!

Bob T: (Sensing danger, stalling, and trying to avoid the smackdown subject.) Why ya gotta do tha' one, two, three listin' thin' wid me alla time? Ya soun' like tha' guy Garrett wan ya go on like tha'. Look, Palestr'on 'joys arguin' wid me. If he dint 'ave me to go back an' ford wid, 'e'd 'ave to nuthin' do all day but work. Look, ... get back to ya, 'kay. Gotta 'pointment to go to. Gotta get ready. (Click of line being disconnected.)

Well, I seem to have gone and done it, and there's no graceful way to back out now and save face. If PalestraJon won't go for the cream pie
idea, which I think is quick and easy and would be kind of fun, I guess I'll have to go with the quizzo idea. I also have to admit that Scrabble isn't really much of a spectator sport, but I am pretty good at it. And I suppose he's entitled to choice of weapons, although to be perfectly accurate, I didn't actually challenge him. It was that snake Goodtimes that actually issued the challenge. But I won't quibble about minor matters.

I do actually exist. (I am PalestraJon's worst nightmare come to life. Brahahahahaha! Well, probably not.) I used to play quizzo with some friends, but I haven't played in some time. It's not very convenient for me, and I don't really do very well at it. I don't consider this due to a lack of intelligence on my part, or think of it as a moral failing. I'm just not very knowledgeable in areas such as popular culture and sports. Since JGT insists on asking an obscenely large number of questions in areas in which I have little knowledge and little interest, I just don't do very well and I've kind of lost interst. I suspect PalestraJon will slaughter me. But lead on, Jeeves.

I also am far from wealthy, (even though being a Republican I've tried manfully over the years to become wealthy on the backs of the poor), so any bet will have to be small and largely symbolic. This isn't about money anyway. It's about the demands of honor.

Let me know.

"... I would consent to meet him on the field of honor to exchange cream pies..."

Ideally any contest will ultimately result in Johnny losing a little dignity along the way. Otherwise what's the point?

He has little dignity left to lose, but you raise an important matter. I suggest a side bet with him involving intimate articles of women's clothing and a busy intersection during rush hour. I also suggest you might want to bet on PalestraJon. You may have to give some points. Good luck and best wishes.

Bob, you must be from the Hillary Clinton school of lowering expectations. Seriously, we do not have to do this---you have issued the challenge and your honor is assuaged. It might be more interesting actually to play a game together as a team and see how we do and whether it is possible to actually get along.

aw

Heart, be still!

I've got bad news for you. Johnny's almost as evil as me. If you two were on the same team Johnny's Speed Round would be name the 10 Greatest Presidents and he'd sit back and laugh while you two killed each other.

Well everybody seems to be spoiling for a confrontation, so maybe we should go for it. But then, on the other hand, PalestraJon has extended an olive branch, and I probably should take it. Maybe things have gotten a little out of hand. Again, I blame that pond scum Goodtimes who is always on the lookout for trouble. Maybe you or I or both of us should issue some sort of challenge to him. PJ and I probably should get together at some point to play quizzo, whether as opponents or teammates, if only to demonstrate to each other that neither of us has cloven feet. Let me give the matter some thought.

I have to get going now and do some things. Everybody have a nice weekend. You too, PalestraJon.

Comparing you to Hillary Clinton! That olive branch has thorns!
Of course Johnny's stirring the pot! He's evil. That's what evil people do!
But, to paraphrase my old friend, Edward G. Robinson who said to my other old friend, Steve McQueen in "The Cincinnati Kid" "You're evil, Kid. In fact, you're the most evil I ever saw. But as long as I'm around you'll never be the most evil".

Buzkashi.
That's really the only way to solve this madness. But with Johnny comprising a third one-man team. The horses you can rent (I'm sure Valley green has a pamphlet) and I bet the headless goat can be found in any number of neighborhood markets. Chalk you can steal from pretty much most elementary schools.
Johnny has the rules written down somewhere.
I don't know the base equestrian skills of the competitors but Johnny is from West Virginia and that's pretty much the Montana frontier for us libruls so you'd have to give him 1 1/2 points minimum.

DISCLAIMER:That does not mean he slept with Heath ledger or likes to herd sheep. Plus he likes the other Olsen.
Good luck to you all!

I looked up this buzkashi on Wikipedia, and it sounds like an interesting sport-- a sort of central Asian tribal version of polo. It would cetainly have to be more interesting to watch than soccer, at any rate, and I wonder why it has never reached a mass audience. The description of the game made me wish I had some experience with horseback riding. I wonder if it could be played on bicycles or maybe on foot?

Philly Buzkashi at Quizzo Bowl.

In lieu of live animals, a carcass, and steppe, may I suggest roller skates (skates - NOT blades) and a rubber chicken? Chalk circle (drawn by the lovely Ginger) in a parking lot or perhaps where the ring would go at Quizzo bowl if Johnny doesn't spring for it. Would make for a better show too. Teams of three apiece. Youtube video to follow....

Skates would change the nature of the game that you are on a horse slamming around the carcass. How about Segways?

Only a president can fall off a Segway so that may not be challenging enough. A red wagon towed about by backer? Skateboards? Instead of a chicken you could use a carnival sized stuffed animal.

The headless goat seems to me an integral part of the game and in fact what makes the game distintive. You can vary the type of mounts (bikes, roller skates, motorcycles, dune buggies), but I think the headless goat is an imperative.

Why not red wheel barrows? Then indeed would one be able to say that so much depends on a red wheel barrow. I agree that the absence of the headless goat would seem to take much away from the game. The goat sounds too barbaric, however, and it might be argued that not abusing headless goats in this manner is one of those things that separates us from them. They fox hunt these days without foxes, so why not buzkashi without involving goats?