COMANDANTE KARMA AND

THE SPAWN OF SATAN

[Note to readers: The mysterious Web entity and cyber-terrorist Comandante Karma, an ironically self-proclaimed "force for universal good in the cosmos" who has appeared several times on these pages, recently made another unannounced and unauthorized "visit" to the Farr Site studios. As is our custom in the wake of these always-disturbing and frequently violent encounters, we have reconstructed the dialog as best we can from whatever is recorded on our voice-activated monitoring system. We have to warn you in advance that some of what follows may be offensive to just about everyone, but our devotion to the truth demands nothing less than the most accurate representation possible of the events in question. May God have mercy on us all. . . -- JHF]

[CRASH, clatter, tinkle-tinkle...]

JHF: [suddenly awakened] "What the bloody blue blazes?! Oh no, not YOU again! Jesus, I told you never to come this late! You knew I'd have my system shut down, didn't you? There goes another perfectly good 17-inch monitor. . ."

[The Comandante, hereafter referred to as C.K., is a tall, slightly overweight figure wearing a "Think Different" cap and an identity-concealing bandana tied around his face. He has just morphed temporarily into physical form after bursting through the darkened screen of the now-useless monitor!]

C.K.: [brushing tiny shards of glass from arms and shoulders] "Well, if you'd just shell out for cable and leave everything turned on, I could come and go as I please! [smirk] You'd like that, wouldn't you, you cheap wimpy bastard. I think next time I'll just materialize from the wall socket and blow every circuit breaker for a thousand miles! Heh. I'd like to see you try to talk your way outa that little dust-up."

JHF: [climbing out of bed and pulling on shorts] "Nobody believes me now, anyway! You know I can't get my insurance company to pay for any more monitors. Besides, aren't you supposed to be a force for GOOD? Doggone it, my VISA card is all tapped out and I don't know what I'm going to do."

C.K.: "Rest easy, Jocko. I know where you can get another monitor. Hell, three or four of 'em! I just 'vacated' a whole suite of offices over at--"

JHF: "Oh, NO! You haven't actually -- oh dear Lord! --please tell me you didn't 'off' anyone on your way over here! You've really got to stop taking matters into your own hands, its. . .why, it's. . ."

C.K.: [shouting] "'UNETHICAL'?? Would that be the word you're groping for, you pusillanimous goofball, you worthless smudge of Mac-slime? [even louder] UNETHICAL??? Wassamatter, kid, 'fraid the ÜBERCENSOR's gonna get ya? Hmmm??"

JHF: "Well, now that you mention it -- "

C.K.: "See here, sunshine, I took care of that. 'Force for GOOD,' remember? Well, I'm GOOD AND MAD! Morons to the left , morons to the right, my GOD, man, how can you stand it? Get a load o' this!"

[The Comandante turns and reaches deep inside the blown-out monitor. A brilliant yellow flash ensues, accompanied by dirty, foul-smelling reddish-orange smoke and assorting sparking noises. Suddenly with a loud "Oh, yeah!" he extracts somehow from the battered Sony a huge, squirming burlap bag which he yanks brutally onto the floor! The singed and smoking sack flops back and forth a moment or two, emitting terrified muffled groans, then lies still and silent. . .]

JHF: "How did you -- oh my God, it's true! You KILLED them!! [groan, whine, snivel] Ooog. . .I think I'm going to be sick."

C.K.: [muttering and shaking his head] "Try to do some people a favor. . . [leering] Say, dontcha wanna peek?" [untying end of sack]

JHF: [throwing up into wastebasket] "Oh God. [urp] Ohgodohgodohgod..."

C.K.: "Geez, what a baby! Just take a look, willya?"

[The Comandante opens one end of the sack, grabs author by the neck and forces his head down to make him see!]

JHF: "Ow, that hurts! DON'T! Ohmygod, I -- Shit, wait a minute. Oh, thank God, he's alive! Why didn't you tell me? But are you sure he can breathe with his face all wrapped up with duct tape like that? And who are those other guys down in there?? [moaning, becoming hysterical] This is awful! A triple kidnapping, you really did it this time. We're doomed, I know it. We're utterly, totally DOOMED!"

C.K.: [rapidly losing patience] "SNAP OUT OF IT, dammit! I know what I'm doing. Look: in the first place, they're fine! A little bruised, maybe, and they'll need a change of underwear, but that's it. As soon as I've decided where to leave them, you can email their friends -- if they've still got any, hahahaha! -- and clue 'em in. Simple! And in the second place, is this or is this not the same guy who asked your permission to quote extensively from your stupid column and then did it anyway after you said 'NO'? Is this not the same genius who said "the more, the merrier" when you bitched about all the awful Mac sites, and now he wants to CENSOR THEM?!? Write a freaking CODE of ETHICS for everybody else, no less? Say, you don't happen to have any hemlock, do you? Rite-Aid was fresh out."

JHF: [ignoring last question and rubbing his neck] "Oh, that's him all right. At least I think it is! Hard to tell with all that duct tape. Do his eyes always bulge like that or do you have him wrapped too tightly? Anyway, why did you even bother? I don't think anybody gives a damn."

C.K.: "I'm sure they don't, lazycakes! But I had to do something, dammit! All that arrogance and pomposity in one place is creating a BLACK HOLE in the space-time continuum and sucking up bandwidth faster than a boatload of browser whores! I'm telling ya, this Mac moral crusade is one awful load of dangerous bullshit, you dig? Anyway, while I was at it, I thought I might as well snag the other two, heh-heh. Recognize 'em?"

JHF: [gingerly peering once more into the sack] "Not sure. . . oh, wait a minute! Yes, the young one in the back with 'LLC' tattooed on his forehead, absolutely. But what's he got in his eyes? They look like dollar signs! Is that your doing?"

C.K.: "Hell no, found him just like that! Pretty awful, ain't it? I don't think he even saw me coming. In fact, I don't think he knows he's in the sack."

JHF: "Brrr, that's cold! But what about that poor guy in the middle, the one you gagged with, what's that, a diploma? Is that--??"

C.K.: "You betcha! The same guy who hectored everyone on how they were supposed to behave at Macworld San Francisco and then said he wasn't going! Which just gave me an idea. . ."

JHF: "Whatever it is, keep me out of it! I'm packing my bags and hitting the road. You've really gone too far this time, Comandante. I'm getting the hell outa here, Kansas, maybe. Do they have Internet in Kansas? Hello??"

C.K.: [uncharacterically lost in reverie] "Y-e-e-s, Macworld. Oh, I like this. . .I can tie them up in a net and hang them over the stage! When Uncle Stevie starts working up a sweat and gets to where he's about to announce those new LCD iMac beach hats with the glow-in-the-dark keyboards that hang around your neck, I'll pull the cord and drop 'em just behind the podium! At first people will think it's a bunch of of Apple vice-presidents doing an AirPort demo [chortle], and then-- [turning to author] Damn, I almost forgot! I swore I wasn't going to listen to another keynote speech. Do you think you could--"

JHF: "HAH! Not on your life, you crazy-ass sonofabitch! Get somebody else to do your dirty work! And anyway, I thought you dug Expo keynotes. Macs, Steve, rock & roll, right?"

C.K.: "Those weenies! They had the right music on the P.A. but didn't have the balls to CRANK IT UP! I couldn't stand to go through that again. Geez, it's like having sex with your mother in the room! I'll bet the ÜberCensor would like it, though: 'Hey fellas, could you turn it down a little? And if you'd just turn away for a minute, Ma...' While I'm on the subject, do you Mac guys always work naked?? The reason I'm asking is, when I went over to--"

JHF: "HOLD IT right there! Whatever you're about to suggest is something I don't ever need to hear, much less visualize. Besides, I have to pack! [hurriedly rummaging through piled-up laundry, sniffing and sorting] What do you think, is this clean?!"

C.K.: "How the hell do I know? But gimme some o' those! Here, censor this!"

[Grabbing a handful of dirty socks and briefs from the reject pile, he stuffs them into the sack and yanks it shut! Muffled bleats of protest are briefly heard as the dusty burlap bag writhes, flops, and then is still, except for an occasional involuntary twitch . . .]

"Just the thing to knock 'em out for the trip home! Getting out of here at your lousy connection speed would be awfully painful, otherwise. I'm tired of lugging these bastards around, anyway, and it's too long to wait for New York."

JHF: "You're taking them BACK? Oh well, I can't snag one of those monitors while I'm on the lam."

C.K.: [sighs] "You just don't get it, do you? I'm not taking them back to the office, I'm taking them where they belong! Here, dammit, take another look, a good look!"

[The Comandante opens the sack, reaches in, grabs a leg, and with considerable effort yanks a representative foot out into the light. A vaguely sulphurous odor fills the air, as the author's cat suddenly leaps from the bed and jumps out the window! With a savage twist, the Comandante rips a tasseled loafer from the jerking, twisting limb!]

JHF: "A HOOF?!? A pointy, stinking, hairy hoof?"

John H. Farr edits the news for Applelinks.com and invites your comments. The Farr Site Archives will take you to the past two years' worth of columns. John also writes his WebFaust column for MacAddict.com and a monthly op-ed page column called "El Emigrante" for Horse Fly in Taos, NM.

To be notified whenever the column is updated, just send a message titled "Subscribe FSN" to this address.

TO OUR FANS: Yes, I know, you can't tell the players without a program, and I'm not about to give you one. :-) Some days that's just how it goes. (Destiny demands no less.) In the meantime, please enjoy our latest contribution to the general welfare:

FARR SITE
Code of Ethics!!!

The Comandante Karma Seal means that you, the Farr Site reader, will forever be protected from anyone's sense of propriety, truth, and humor except that of the author. Cool, huh? We hereby pledge to say any damn thing we want! Thank you for listening.

(Note: permission is hereby granted to all freedom-loving peoples of the earth to rip off the above official C.K. seal JPEG for use on Web sites that promise to say any damn thing they want. If memory serves, the slogan comes from Gilbert Shelton's Wonder Wart Hog comics. Call him up and say thanks.)

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November 20, 2008