[Note: Originally published 12/20/06, updated and bumped forward]

Via Foot, I notice that Susan Lenfestey has a blog, featuring her own particular brand of…

…well, what do we call it? Spittle-flecked ranting? Paranoid delusion? Serving as a mindless streetwalker for the party line?

Whatever it is, it deserves our encouragement, because freedom of speech and argumentation is a treasure to be cultivated because it’s fun to watch puffed-up, self-important “children of the sixties” make asses of themselves, their beliefs and their generation.

So I’m going to do what needs to be done: I’m going to sponsor a contest, the First And Last Annual Susapalooza. Here’s how it works:

  1. Write a paragraph of the most over-the-top Susan Lenfesty parody. Borrow, er, liberally from her blog – but out-lenfestey her in every possible way.
  2. Leave the paragraph in the comment section of this post. I’ll keep pushing it to the top of the schedule.
  3. On December 25, I’ll post the finalists, along with an online poll to vote for the “winner”.
  4. On New Years Eve, we’ll announce the “winner”.

The “winner” gets a beverage of his/her choice from me, and maybe some other piece of NARN/SITD swag. Probably.
So puff up your self-righteous, vein-popping indignation. Whip your petulant depression to a fine fever. Sniff down your nose at your fellow citizen.

It’s art, dammit.

Update and Bump 12/21: Lenfestey isn’t pleased with this contest:

I’ve been described by some local lads (who blog under phony names [Really? Someone named “Lenfestey” digs at my name?] and remind me of the pimple-pussed boys I used to see playing war games in the Dungeons and Dragons emporium on Lake Street a long, long time ago) as a depressive, “sucking on the tailpipe of my Prius.” In my dreams! The Prius part. Sucking on the tailpipe, not so much. Read on.

They call me other things as well, which is curious to me, seeing as I’m such a little piece of fluff in the big lint screen of opinions. What a funny waste of their time.

No, Susan, you’re right; your depressive, angry yet self-adoring, precious, arrested-adolescent little opinions are a fart in the cosmic wind. True. But by dint of your social connections, they get printed, seemingly no questions asked, in the Strib. Hundreds of worthy writers go unpublished, while your whiny, kvetching sore-loser snivelling jumps to the head of the line.

It’s like the crazy lady who was constantly yelling about those Damned Ukrainians at the bus stop over by Phoenix Games (where pimply lads of all ages play wargames and, horror of horrors, enjoy themselves) got her own show on CNBC.

By itself, it doesn’t beget a response in polite company. When it’s elevated far beyond where it deserves to be, it deserves satire.

Update and Bump 12/22: Last weekday for submissions! Post will be open for entries all weekend, though – so put that Christmas shopping off until you’ve lenfested this post with your best parody!

Update and Bump 12/23: OK . One more day! Competition is going to be fierce!

44 thoughts on “Susapalooza!

  1. “I was riding the train yesterday–even though it won’t do any good in the long run because we humans are toxifying our earth with our filthy human emissions, because we’re humans who emit–and I was thinking about how George W. Bush has so incredibly destroyed our world. Specifically, I was thinking about the Iraq Body Count, which I consider to be an unimpeachable source of information–not to be confused with our more-than-impeachable pResident (although, really, how do you impeach a man who wasn’t REALLY elected in the first place). Anyway, I was thinking about our doomed planet, and the man responsible for that doom, George W. Bush. I really wish I could have fellated John Kerry into office. Or even Al Gore. They’re both men I admire like my reflection in a mirror, or like my written word in one of the most biased newspapers on this doomed planet. If I could just have fellated either man to the Presidency, to save this doomed planet from the disaster that is George W. Bush, I would have. I love that word. . . fellate. It sounds like you fell, but behind schedule, when in actuality it’s a word that means to orally pleasure an erect male penis. Not that females have penises, mind. . . well, I do, but that’s neither here nor there. Anyway, where was I again? I swear, I lose my focus worse than the Hubble space telescope. Hey, look! A shiny dime!”

  2. I just wrote a lengthy submission for this contest, only to have it completely disappear when I hit “Submit Comment.” I’m in tears here. TEARS!

  3. Christmas. I gaze at the once-living frasier fir that currently inhabits one corner of my library/office/meditation chamber with all its lights and baubles and ornaments obtained in a happier era I can scarcely remember. This ironcially dead symbol of life reminds me of this horrific, unjust, illegal, immoral, poorly-planned, ineptly-executed and slightly fattening war that our adolescent fratboy liar in chief has infliced on us more enlightened peace loving folk. I hate vacation.

  4. Yossarian,

    You must have written it from a different computer than that associated with your ID. It was in my moderation queue. I just posted it.

  5. “I was riding my bike near the Light Rail when I realized how wonderful the sky was. It is that sense of freedom when you can look up or around and not have any fears that the government is watching you that provides a sense of elation to my life. It reminds me of before the dark times, before the Bush Empire. It was a more civilized age back then. I could ride my bike anywhere in the sixties and not have to worry about someone listening in on my cell phone conversations. At least it’s still possible to escape the feeling I’m being watched all the time by riding my back in the wonderfully progressive Minneapolis area. When will it end? When will we be free again? When can I be an American again? Librels will rise again, every minute we are unfree we become stronger.”

  6. Right Wing Blogosphere Like a Slinky
    by susan defenestrated

    When I think of the right-wing blog nuts, I’m reminded of a slinky. Not the cheap, plastic, multi-colored ones they make now, but the good old steel slinkies. Although, one could say some lazy, truth-challenged bloggers are, in fact, cheap knockoffs of legitimate media, like the Star Tribune, and that makes them more like the plastic ones. Speaking of the Star Tribune, did I mention I wrote an op-ed last month about how cable news shows are like Legos? Here’s an excerpt:

    {insert eight paragraphs of dreck}

    Anyway, back to slinkies. Conservative bloggers like to stretch the truth, like a slinky, until finally, the truth pulls back. But I don’t have to tell you about the truth, because our side knows all about it. The right wing-nuts only think they do, but they don’t. Wait, are the bloggers the slinky, or is the truth the slinky? Oh, and remember how you could make a slinky go down the stairs end over end? That reminds me of the righty blog nuts, because I hear they drink a lot and tend to fall down stairs….

  7. I tried to read her blog. She is insane. Her readers are insane. I can’t fake crazy. I give up.

  8. I just woke up. I’m so happy it’s Kwanza! Wait…ramadan? Whatever, today is the beginning of a new…dawn (gasp). That bastard is still in charge! He better have gassed-up. People are every where, he knows they make me bitchy…! Oh well, I’ll blog. “The world sucks and everything stinks.” If only they could…be ME!! Fantastic, OH MY GOD-forest! It’s sunny out, kinda like winter too. (note to self,global trains cause icky stuff-chk w/ed.) Don’t these fools know who I am! Obama my Prince, come to our rescue and speak your sweet nothings. You are our saviour, kinda-negroid without being real black. If I contribute to your campaign can you send me a blank contribution form? We can fill it in $, OK? Number 1 item for today: Bitch Merg, does she shop?

  9. It would appear the poking of fun at the Lenfesty Eeyore has gotten her attention:

    Perhaps someone could point out to the Droopy Susan that it’s not JUST her moping that we find hysterical, but that it’s the moping in CONJUNCTION with her hopelessly cliched, shamelessly left-leaning, not-particularly-well-written-or-thought-out content that we find so deliciously prone to mockery.

  10. After parking my Prius near the stone arch bridge, I decided to walk and examine the universe. My searching eyes scanned up to a grey sky, and then down to brown grass. Al Gore’s prophecy has come to pass: Global warming.

    Suddenly, whammo! I felt a personal toxic emission coming to pass. Yes, a SBD — Silent But Deadly. Passers-by took notice, with that knowing scowl and stepped-up pace in the opposite direction. Knowing that some were Republicans, it was my way of retribution. Executing legal torture, like waterboarding at Gitmo. “Bush did it!,” I exclaimed to deaf ears and pinched nostrils. BDS (Bush Derangement Syndrome) will be cured on January 20, 2009. Why doesn’t everyone have BDS?

    SBD. BDS. PMS. BS. BM.

    PS: Damn you, Learned Foot.

  11. “Write a paragraph of the most over-the-top Susan Lenfesty parody. Borrow, er, liberally from her blog – but out-lenfestey her in every possible way.

    You have to tell your readers how write satire? I think your petty little anger stunt is doomed and you look a little, well, pathetic.

  12. Oh, please, Doug. You think this is an anger stunt? Anyone with more than two neurons firing can see this is mockery/satire. Those who CAN’T see that are, well, pathetic.

  13. Don’t worry, Yossarian. In their world, everything any conservative says (other than “I quit”) is motivated by anger.

  14. I think Lenfestey’s ‘Dungeons and Dragons emporium’ is the old ‘Little Tin Soldier’ store on West Lake. I’m pretty sure it no longer exists. Ah! Nostalgie! The sound of 4 12 sided dice clacking in a cup is my taste of a madeleine.

  15. Tin Soldier became “Phoenix Games” in about ’88. It’s still there, last I drove by. I spent many a Friday night playing “Clear for Action” (WW2 naval gaming) and a Saturday or two playing WW2 and modern tank battles.

    Man, that’s some memories. I haven’t been in there in probably 15 years.

    And I never, never, ever played “Dungeons and Dragons”. Sheesh.

    (Twilight 2000 – well, that’s another thing).

  16. I actually read her response, she’s a parody of herself. Then I read a few of her other works on her blog. Then my head asploded. Thanks a lot Mitch y Foot.

  17. The other day, while I was wandering through a local mall, looking for Kwanza presents for my friends, I stopped to watch a wonderful little child whispering her wishes for presents into ‘ol Santa’s ears. I thought to myself, what presents would I ask for…if I were to sit on Santa’s lap? (Although I can’t figure out what is more repulsive: the germs the kids leave on the lap or the sexism of the act of sitting on a MAN’s lap.)

    Anywho…I came up with a short list.

    As always, my first wish is for World Peace. Which naturally can not happen without impeaching that frat boy cokehead Bush (Wish #2). And of course, World Peace would eliminate the need for weapons of war, so de-funding the repressive, machoistic, testosterone laden industrial military complex will be Wish #3. My final wish would be to take all the money we save and fully fund Education (which has been cut year after year by the Republicans and their hate machine supporters, such as the right-wing wackjob bloggers like Mitch “Mind numb shill for the Bush Crime Family” Berg), make college free to everyone, create a free healthcare system like the wise people of Canada, and use the rest to feed the Poor.

    Come on Santa, pony-up. Check your list…I’ve been good.

  18. A Walk In The Clouds
    By Susan Lenfesty

    I decided to walk in the rain today, because rain is what we have instead of snow nowadays, thank you very much global warming. Thanks to the arrogance of this administration, and not adhering to the Kyoto protocol, I suppose next year I’ll be lucky if I can go out for a walk in the sparks and flames.

    As I was walking, I started thinking, as I often do, about politics, which I consider myself to be an absolute expert on, despite the fact my writing reflects the political acumen of a yammering spider monkey. That said, I was thinking about politics, and how Al Gore should be president, so I don’t have to walk in the sparks and flames next year, because Al Gore made a movie about global warming and, as such, I’m confident he can reverse global warming by the sheer force of his indomitable will.

    As much as I admire the perfection of Al Gore, however, I have to say I’d vote for Barack Obama over him. Obama is just such a great golfer. He’s won, what? Seven U.S. majors in a row now? Someone like that is just destined to lead this country out of the cesspool it’s been degraded to under the McChimpler-in-Chief.

    It’s kind of like what I wrote in the Star-Tribune in one of my many submissions for that bastion of journalistic integrity, shining like a beacon on the horizon, blinding me like Oedipus plucking out his own eyes. Yes, it’s a beacon! It’s bright, burning glory is not unlike the headlight of an oncoming train, and it’s editorial section is the rapturous bugle call of truth; again, not unlike the ominous sound of a train horn. Now that I think about it. The combination of light and horn could, in fact, be an oncoming tra—


  19. “I spent many a Friday night playing “Clear for Action” (WW2 naval gaming) and a Saturday or two playing WW2 and modern tank battles.”

    Sometimes good material just writes itself…

  20. Sometimes good material just writes itself…

    Which is a good thing, since you certainly never will write it.

    What “material”, Doug? That I enjoyed the odd wargame 20 years ago?

    Get a life.

  21. Mitch,

    Phoenix Games is still in operation (I went there for Halloween last year and they had a pretty nice event going on). I collect RPG source books for a hobby but most of the people playing there when I’ve been in seem to be really into Warhammer 40,000 (sort of a darker high-tech version of Lord of the Rings meets Dune meets the Eternal Champion). I’ve got “Fire Warrior” for my PS2 and it’s a pretty decent FPS and a great stress reliever.

    As far as D&D, I’ve never played either but my kid brother is really into it. He’s asked for most of the Volume 3.5 source books for Christmas. Since his older brother loves shopping for used books, it’s going to be a race to see if I can find them all before Sunday when I go out to my parents for my b-day.

    Speaking of gaming – has anyone here read “Knights of the Dinner Table”? That has got be one of the funniest (and most accurate) comics ever written!

  22. oh my God you guys have me crying ! The Susapalooza stuff is very good but when she jabs you with the wargames bit and Thorley goes off on a RPG/ comic book jag it was priceless. Please don’t stop. This is too good.

  23. If only . . . (sniff) . . . If only . . . I had been able to hit that dwarf with a confusion spell we would have been able to get past him to third level of the caverns.. But he had a +2 magic resistance charm on top of his normal resistance. By the Mystic Moons of Munnopor I shall see see his dwarf hide nailed to the gates of Ammoroth!

  24. As usual, Doug, you are so wrong that light leaving “right” at this moment won’t reach us until your grandchildren’s grandchildren are mocking your name.  Lenfestey didn’t “peg” me at all. I played the odd wargame. I also played in a bunch of bands, biked 30 miles a day, and played softball…oh, wait! Stereotypes aren’t about people! They’re about your, and Lenfestey’s, insecurities! 

    Yeah, there were people who fit Lenfestey’s little stereotype that hung out at LTS/Phoenix – and much worse.  There were also flaming liberals – it’s where I met PB!

    And if satirizing my little autiobiography gives you some feeling of satisfaction, go for it. It’s all fair game. Although it might make one question the whole “I have a life” claim.

    But you are, as usual, not only wrong but off topic.  We’re satirizing Lenfestey here. 

  25. “I wish it were summer. Walking down the streets, silent now that everyone else is working at some job or another; silent and left for we thinkers of

    Deep Thoughts.

    Last summer I walked, feet strapped into comfortable sandals, legs striding purposefully each footfall tapping out a cadence (I am woman, I am strong; I am woman, I am strong; I am woman, I am strong). I was thinking noble thoughts as I walked, and as always Paul and Sheila Wellstone walked with me.

    Well in my mind they did.

    I recalled that Paul and Sheila Wellstone no longer walked this Earth; they have been sent back to the Mother by George Bush, who flew the doomed plane Paul and Sheila Wellstone were flying on via remote control.

    We all know Bushitler has a transmitter wired into his head for just such occasions.

    I was concentrating hard on my vision, trying to decide if Sheila Wellstone’s sandals were genuine Birkenstocks, from the sixties, like mine. I was concentrating on the destruction wrought by men wearing boots, not genuine Birkenstocks, from the sixties, like mine.

    The despair became too much, so I bid a hasty retreat to the comfort of a nice chamomile tea in my tastefully decorated home.”

  26. Doug,

    I never fit Lenfestey’s stereotype of me. If she (and you) find some comfort in believing it, knock yourselves out. It’s fine. Pathetic, but fine.

    If someone feels that this parody of Lenfestey is unfair, let them speak now or hold their peace.

    I’m not taking any more “wargaming” comments in this thread.

  27. Wargamers Are Desensitized
    by Susan Lenfesty

    I poked my head into the Dungeons and Dragons emporium on Lake Street for the fun of it, just to see what the pimple-pussed boys playing war games were up to. Imagine my shock and awe when I discovered they were playing war games!

    It was then that an odd thing happened: something occurred to me.

    Surely, George W. Bush and Cheney and Rummy all played war games like these in their youth. How else could they become so desensitized to the death and destruction wrought by real war?

    For them, the Iraq debacle quagmire lie-fest Halliburton enrichment scheme is nothing more than 20-sided dice and pewter figurines. A car bomb in Tikrit equals 4d8 x 10 hit points, stealth bombers are +5 Defender swords, and Navy Seals are a team of Drizzt Do’Urdens.

    We need an admistration that understands death and destruction. We need a Bill Clinton back in office. When those sailors died on the Cole, he felt their pain. When those embassies crumbled, you could see the pain in Clinton’s expertly curled lip. When I looked at Clinton, I looked at pain, not a wargamer.

  28. [irrelevant, off-topic digression removed]

    And if satirizing my little autiobiography gives you some feeling of satisfaction, go for it. It’s all fair game.

    Mitch, since you removed my post, this doesn’t make sense. I thought you had thicker skin?

  29. Doug,

    My skin is luxuriantly thick. As I noted above, this isn’t a thread about wargaming, or Lenfestey’s idiotic stereotypes (or your compulsion to defend them). This thread is about lampooning Lenfestey.  Because I say so, that’s why.

    Don’t like it? Start your own blog. 

  30. Having a thick skin and staying on topic are two different things, Doug. I can explain it in limerick form, if you’d like:

    The off topic commenter named Doug
    Who’s also a typical liberal slug
    Thinks Mitch’s blog is his own
    Where he’s allowed to just drone
    When in fact Mitch can just pull the plug.

  31. Hmmm… Yossarian… Not Quite…

    Let me help you out.

    The off topic commenter Doug
    Who’s a typical liberal slug
    Thinks this blog is his own
    he’s allowed to just drone
    When in fact Mitch can just pull the plug.

    Your welcome.

  32. I felt sickened and revolted as I walked past the wargame store, watching the pimply-faced fratboys playing their little games, actually having fun playing at war, like their ur-fratboy master, George W. Bush. They laughed, like the pimply-faced fratboy dates of my sorority sisters at Vassar laughed at my vow to forswear orgasms until Eugene McCarthy was finally elected president. They laughed, like the pimply-faced wargamers laughed, unaware that the forces of destiny would leave them stupid and pimply and anonymous, like their leader, George W. Bush.

    A true child of the sixties, I threw a rock at the window of the shop. As if to provide a metaphor for the day – indeed, the year, and in fact the whole part of my life after George McGovern’s loss – it bounced, causing the pimply-faced frat boys to look at me with their leering eyes, themselves metaphors for the gaping, pimply-faced, frat-boyish, slack-jawed male hatred of woman. Their laughter furthered the metaphor, I thought; powerless against my womanhood and intellect, they lashed back. I revelled in the abuse which was a symbol of my power, and walked away, laughing loudly and pointing at their pimply fratboy faces.

    That, and the dozen donuts I bought at Rainbow, made me feel better for a while – until I remembered the state of the world, and I vomited them, the laughter, and the metaphor back out. It splashed into the toilet, reminding me of my hopes and dreams the day the Air Force shot Paul Wellstone’s plane down.

  33. Yossarian said,



    Yossarian’s meter is broken
    It may be from something he’s smokin’
    while he tries to be witty
    his limerick is shitty
    but I pray he knows I’m just jokin’

    Mitch feel free to remove my off topic posts. I’m Just messing.

    Ya’ll have a good Christmas.

  34. Our man Doug, in pain from a toasting
    Said “feel free to gundeck my posting”.
    But awash in good cheer,
    (and malice, have no fear!)
    I’ll leave them. They’re there for the roasting!

  35. not bad but the 4th line is 1 sylable to many.


    “Our man Doug, in pain from a toasting”

    Hardly. I’m just full of Festivus spirit.

  36. A New Years Resolution
    by Susan Lenfestey

    Christmas is a time of cherubby children, joyous gifts, and love snuggles.
    What I wouldn’t do to get the old days back pre-George Bush.
    Now I see only gloom and doom. No cheerful smiling young men holding the door for me as I walk, no well wishes from friendly neighbors, and no respect at work.

    At work noone talks to me at all. The one recent conversation I did have I think I mustered a clunker.

    I was talking to a co-worker who witnessed a horrible car accident. In the mangled metal and burning rubber I could actually hear the unborn children of all the insurgents George W Bush killed in their soft feeble voices – “Susan Lenfestey will get us out – wait for Susan Lenfestey – ok”.
    This is the price we pay. Each and every automobile accident from now until eternity will have the echoes of George W Bush’s misdeeds. It’s unbearable. Yet profound.
    I resolved right then and there to oppose all republican efforts and to declare my
    opposition at every turn.

    I explained to my co-worker I was feeling faint and excused myself.

    I sat down and started the Susan Lenfestey Manifesto. In it, I affirm my commitment to helping the unknown victims of all wars who were killed by my country by writing my thoughts about how they might have lived and felt. I feel my life has purpose and the creative material for my anti-republican sentiments virtually unlimited!! Yahooo!

    Then I hear my coworker behind me. Hey everybody look at what Susan’s doing She’s writing a Susan Lenfestey Manifesto! Hey can I read it? HAHA

    Crikey! I had to make up a story and fast. So I defended myself by saying the resolution was all just a joke and that I really wasn’t committed to any principles. Now all is well.

    Merry Christmas!

  37. Escellent Mitch! Lots of humor, especially from that little leprechaun Doug. It’s too bad Lileks couldn’t chime in, the professional touch would have been awesome. But then, this does hit a little close to home for the Master of Jasperwood.

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