Fishin', gone

El Geeko and I will be away this week, with dodgy internet access, so I may not be able to delight one and all with my interesting and ever so witty posts. Oh, don't roll your eyes! Fine, I will rephrase: I may not be able to update the blog, people. The Blogger image utility is bleepin' messed up again, by the way. Lovely.

Fellow, for she's a jolly good

Here's to you, Lisa! Thank you!!

Mussels, eat Bertha's

Many smuggled mussels end up in the mussel porn industry

Procastinating reader Christie was cleaning out her inbox yesterday when she found this sordid(and now totally stale) tale about the officials at the Slovenia-Croatia border breaking up a dangerous date-mussel smuggling ring. Unfortunately the article doesn't explain how the contraband was found. Did they use seafood-sniffing dogs? Maybe they don't need to. I bet these things stink after sitting in a hot car for a while. So, if you've ever wondered what those shady Croatians are up to, now you know. If you've ever wondered why people actually eat mussels, I can't help you. I have no clue why anyone would want to eat them, although I'm beginning to form some theories.

Anyway, read on, Macduff.

Customs Officials Confiscate 65 Kilos of Date-Mussels

Sečovlje, May 21

Customs officials at the Slovenian-Croatian border discovered and confiscated 65 kg of date-mussels, the trade of which is banned, in the cars of two Croatian citizens. Last Saturday, 35 kg of date-mussels were discovered hidden in the side panels at the rear of a car owned by a Croatian citizen. The next day, another Croatian citizen was caught smuggling 35kg of these protected seafood specialties, hidden in the back seat of his car. The confiscated molluscs were handed over to the veterinary service, while both Croatian citizens were fined. Harvesting, and consequently trade, of date-mussels is prohibited as it causes dismantling and desertification of bottom areas along the Adriatic's shallow rocky shores.

Lumpen?, who you callin'

As a humanitarian service, EZA News (Fighting Peace Since 2006) would like to inform the Slovakian government that Hungarians are dangerous people who burn down townhomes and throw deadly carrots at people's faces when we're feeling particularly stroppy, haven't had our morning pálinka, or just because we can. Much as EZA News appreciates ultra-right-wing government factions (who doesn't, really?), we resent people who use difficult words when insulting minorities. Robert Fico's new coalition government should either muzzle Jan Slota (pictured above, mid-rant) or teach him some useful ethnic slurs that can be understood by everybody without the need for a dictionary. By using words like "lumpen elements" to refer to the Hungarian minority in Slovakia, Slota's effectively minimizing the impact of his statements, as a lot of people (including the staff at EZA News, most of whom obtained their journalistic credentials from a color laser printer) failed to become offended by them. If it hadn't been for Slota's further reference to the Hungo minority as "murderers of the Slovakians," we would've had to consult Encyclopedia.com, and that would've taken time away from playing "Rumanii in Spatiu," a game that can be quite fun once it's been tweaked a little.

In any case, now that we know what this drunken loser is barking about, and having read his latest rant over the weekend, we are a little miffed, albeit curious to find out how half a million Hungarians oppress the majority in Slovakia. Too much pepper in the paprikash? Excessive use of suffixes and diacritics? Stockpiles of deadly root vegetables?

The Hungarian government may have reacted with typical magyar aggression to the weekend comments ("if the Slovak government does not disavow Slota's words, Hungary would officially ask it to do so."), but that's nothing compared to what us Hungarian-Americans are capable of. We may have lost brother Bartha in the war against spouses, and brother Vecsey's future as our Root Cellar Chief may be uncertain, but this doesn't mean our forces are in any way diminished. So here's a little friendly warning to the Slovak government: watch out, Bobby. It's cucumber season.

Balaton, husbands flock to the

Suspiciously alert reader A.J. sent in this link, a site created by the ever so clever Hungarian tourism authority, which wants to lure more visitors to Lake Balaton. This evidences an apparent difference in mentality between the magyar-zapping Rumanians and the Hungarian people, who are obviously more focused on illicit nookie. It's not cheating if you have sex with a blonde cartoon girl. Check out how the bee gets it on too. Everyone scores at the Balaton!

Couple, marriage destroys

Lesbian icon, ultra-hip poet and newsfinder Vanessa alerted EZA News (Fighting world peace since ...well, since Vanessa inspired us to adopt this motto) about an article that stands as evidence of the serious damage marriage can wreak in an otherwise loving couple. Julie and Hillary Goodridge lived happily together for two decades and then they had to go and throw it all away by getting married. See what the Evil Institution can do to people? We must stop homosexuals from getting married. It's for their own good! All those happy people with kids, picket fences, dogs, and PTA meetings stand to lose it all if America accepts gay marriage. We have to save these people from the horror brought about by what on the surface appears to be an innocent ceremony. Don't make the same mistake heteros made, gays! Stay away from the courthouse and the church! In fact, let's all stay away, for our own sakes and that of our kids. Happily ever after only works in fairy tales. Outlaw marriage now!

Woman, when a man loves a

George wuvs Angela. At the G8 meeting, he attempted a quickie backrub, but she was having none of it. Or maybe she was being coy and playful. Or maybe she was pretending not to like it because there were cameras there, and other world leaders and she doesn't want the world and Laura to know what's going on. It's anyone's guess at the moment.

The wires are going wild with his incident, but I'm unimpressed. George really needs to come up with something different if he wants to outdo his two predecessors. Bush Sr. vomited on the Prime Minister of Japan, then fainted, and Clinton got frequent blow jobs in the Oval (or Oral) Office from Monica Lewinski and some of the presidential semen stained her dress. A quickie backrub isn't even in the same league.

Piréz, send them back home to

Idegenellenesség (xenophobia) is alive and well in Hungary, according to a survey conducted by news agency MTI. Wisely learning from the negative experiences of Alex the Magyar-Zapper, MTI created a group of imaginary refugees, freshly arrived from non-existent Piréz and seeking refuge in Hungary. Twenty-seven percent of those polled said they wouldn't give the filthy Pirézi asylum in the fair magyar land. Interestingly, the most rabidly anti-foreigner were those who place themselves in the political far left. Only 8% of the respondents thought anyone who wants to live in Hungary should be allowed to do so, though 90% saying they would especially welcome ethnic Hungarians. Pack your carrots, we're going home!

Maybe this anti-foreigner feeling has to do with Hungarians being among the unhappiest people on Earth. According to the Happy Planet Index, Hungary ranked 121st out of 178 countries measured. This might explain why we blow up our townhomes and throw carrots at our spouses. We're unhappier than Namibia! And Bosnia! We're one stroppy bunch indeed. But hey, we're a lot happier than the Pirézians, who are pretty damn mad at the moment and have pledged support of Alex's game. All they have at the moment is some old carrots, but we all know how deadly those can be.

Evil, root of all

Carrots are good for your vision. To obtain the optimal effect from carrots, they should be taken internally, that is, eaten. Hitting yourself (or others) in the eye with a carrot doesn't guarantee you'll get enough vitamin A to cause any significant improvement to your vision. In fact, it may make matters worse as Roderick Vecsey of Monroe, CT found out when during an argument with his wife he flung a carrot at her, effectively blinding her in one eye. Ironically, they were apparently arguing about taking their daughter to the doctor at the time. To be fair, we must point out that Mr. Vecsey was allegedly eating the carrot at the time of the argument, so he may be aware of the traditional method of obtaining vitamin A. In fact, there's a chance he may have intended to share this carroty goodness with his wife and may have been aiming at her mouth.

Ethnically-aware readers have pointed out Mr. V's Hungarian surname, and the fact that the assault with a deadly carrot took place about a week after another allegedly Hungarian man blew up his New York townhouse in another situation involving a wife. There is so much cultural subtext in all of this it's not even funny.

Pressure, Alex couldn't take the

Dacian Dope backs down? EZA News hasn't been able to properly confirm this report, which comes to our main newsdesk from not-alert-enough reader and Central European correspondent A.J., who really needs to cut down on the booze.

According to A.J., Alexandru Duţă (the 21-year-old programmer from Timisoara whose name so wonderfully rhymes with a rude Spanish expression that basically questions the legitimacy of his birth), has announced that he's removed the anti-magyar mission from the game. EZA News has been unable to determine the reason behind this move, but folks in our studio audience conclude that Alex is a sad and spineless geek who, when the going gets tough, chickens out and runs home to mama.

Who you gonna zap now, Alex? Gypsies?

The Hungarian Rebel Army (HuRrAh) is standing down for the moment and enjoying a bit of well-deserved R&R.

Hungarian, feeling

On the comments section of the previous post, deep thinking reader AJ posted:

So if you are a "quarter Jewish," born in Romania and speak Romanian, and you live in the United States for most of your life, but have a Hungarian-sounding name and speak Hungarian, are you still a Hungarian? The answer, of course, is whether you feel Hungarian.

That's a damn good question, AJ. I have a Hungarian name, am 3/4 Hungarian, was born in the US, speak English, have a 100% Hungo dad and a mostly Hungo mom, date a Hungo dude (does feeling up a Hungarian count?), speak Spanish (though not as well as I thought, given I have a really hard time understanding some Spanish blogs), speak some Hungarian (enough to make a lot of grammar mistakes and maul a lovely language, to the ire of my apa), and love pálinka. How Hungarian do I feel? Hmmmm....I guess it would depend on the day and on how annoying (or annoyingly Hungarian) my dad is on that day. When he goes all magyar on my ass (not literally, you sickos), I tend to scream "If it's not Scottish, it's CRAP!!" and then at other times I'm waving the red white and green (does the red field stand for paprika?). A deep question indeed, AJ. You are a philosopher, dude.

Update: Patriotic reader Sára informs me that the Hungarian flag colors mean the following:

Red -- strength
White -- faithfulness
Green -- hope

So there you have it.

Blast, divorce is a

Last week Dr. Nicholas Bartha blew up his New York home (with himself inside) rather than turn the proceeds of the sale to his wife, with whom he'd gone through a Trump-esque divorce. Despondent, withdrawn, suicidal, and rather loopy, as his 14-page email to the media suggests, Dr. Bartha was apparently on a fast train to doom, in a state of mind that had apparently started years ago when he began leaving swastikas around for his Jewish wife to find. Since he was apparently part Jewish himself, this is just another branch of the bizarre tree. The Sun Sentinel ran a story that covers some of the stranger than fiction aspects of the Barthas' life. You know there's going to be a movie about this case, and most probably a Law & Order episode too.

We've all heard people use the expression "over my dead body." Dr. Bartha must've taken this literally. He is now dead, and his wife gets the loot.

And did we mention he was of Hungarian origin? "Ah, well, that illuminates things a smidge," I hear the cyinical, sarcastic observers of magyar nature among you remark. But beyond being an extreme example of the dark side of the magyar character, this terrible tragedy serves as evidence that marriage and money don't always mix well. Just ask Ivana. The story also contains a caveat for the Galactic Ruminant Empire: don't mess with us. While generally inoffensive, we know how to blow things up.

Volume, show your

Subject: Good day dear Sir, Now you could grant your wish

Message: Will the beginning gains hold for this stock? Surely they will, judging by the insider information I happened to obtain about this one. Become stronger – show your volume All you need is here: [URL deleted]. I sincerely hope you get your slice of the trading pie. And I wish it's really thick and sweet! A scalded cat fears cold water. It takes two to tango Daddies know best Laugh and the whole world laughs with you, cry and.. you have to blow your nose. No news is good news The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge: but fools despise wisdom and instruction. A black plum is as sweet as a white.

Wow. Not only do they dispense financial advice, but they also leave you with a few words of wisdom and a little joke. How considerate.

Dealer, support your local arms

On-the-ball reader Leslie sent in a piece of spam that might be of interest to those people who are contemplating declaring themselves a republic, dicatorship, Third World country, or emirate. As those of you who have already gone through this process know, one of the most important things when you become a country is to have your own army to defend your borders, airspace, etc. And if you happen to be a Hungarian insurgent fighting the Ruminant Empire, you definitely need to have a well-stocked arsenal to annihilate those tedious Romulans. Weaponry can be expensive these days. Not that it was ever cheap. Swords, arrows, maces, lances, etc., never grew on trees, and many a knight found himself a pauper when having to buy a new suit of armor for himself and his horse because King Arthur got a bug up his butt and decided to mount yet another offensive, which happened whenever he pictured Sir Lancelot doing the horizontal waltz on the round table with Gwenevere.

Becoming a country is expensive, and you won't have a lot of funds left to properly outfit your armies. The IMF won't give you money before you become a country, after all, and the Libyans may not be very keen on giving you credit. What to do? You could try Ebay, of course, but the bidding is bound to drive the price of weaponry sky high and you're back at Square 1 and the Red Queen is making fun of you and insulting your manhood and lineage from the other side of the chessboard. No one likes that, or having to wait for DHL to deliver the one pre-owned (but entirely re-outfitted) Russian ICBM you managed to purchase by draining all your credit cards.

Enter the Enterprising Spammer.


You're invited to shop for large selection of bombs and different kinds of rockets such as surface-to-air, surface-to-surface and weaponry available at reduced price. With the
following types of rockets you will be able to commit terrorist attacks, destroy buildings, electric power stations, bridges, factories and anything else that comes your mind. Most items are in stock and available for next day freight delivery in the USA. Worldwide delivery is available at additional cost. Prices are negotiable.

Please feel free to inquire by ICQ # ______ or contacting us
directly:

phone numbers deleted

Today special:

******* AIR BOMBS *******
OFAB-500U HE fragmentation air bomb
Fuel-air explosive air bombs -Not in stock
BETAB-500U concrete-piercing air bomb
ZB-500RT incendiary tank
500-KG SIZE RBK-500U unified cluster bomb
RBK-500U OAB-2.5PT loaded with fragmentation submunitions
RBK-500U BETAB-M loaded with concrete-piercing submunitions-Not in
stock
RBK-500U OFAB-50UD loaded with HE fragmentation submunitions

******* UNGUIDED AIRCRAFT ROCKETS *******
Main-purpose unguided aircraft rockets
S-8 unguided aircraft rockets
S-8KOM
S-8BM-Not in stock
S-13 unguided aircraft rockets
S-13, S-13T, S-13-OF, S-13D, S-13DF
S-25-0
S-25-OFM
S-24B -Not in stock
RS-82
RS-132-Not in stock

******* ROCKET PODS *******
B-8M pod for S-8 rockets
B-8V20-A pod for S-8 rockets
B-13L pod for S-13 rockets

Recently received *NEW*

Hydra 70 2.75 inch Rockets
Air-Launched 2.75-Inch Rockets
FIM-92A Stinger Weapons System
Stinger 101: Anti-Air

Our clients are well known Al-Qaida, Hizballah, Al-Jihad, HAMAS, Abu Sayyaf Group and many other terrorist groups. We are well known supplier in the market and looking forward to expand our clientage with assistance of Internet.

Do not hesitate to contact us via ICQ # _________


So there you have it. Daily specials and all. Now, you must remember to be cautious. Don't just call these people and order a truckful of stuff before you check their references. Check with the guys at Al-Jihad and the other boys too and ask if they're satisfied with the service, the speed of delivery, the price, and most importantly, the quality of the weaponry. You don't want to find yourself face to face with a Ruminant cruiser and have your mighty weapon fizzle out. That would only give ammunition (ha ha) to the Red Queen to demoralize and humiliate your brave efforts.

Night?, want to on the top all

If you thought Attila the Hun was the Scourge of God, you were so wrong. Spam is. This stuff is as irritating as falling in nettles. Does anybody actually open spam? I don't, but I have fun reading the stupid subject lines, like the one in the title, sent by "Peter." Want to on the top all night? Well, it depends, Pete. Your little spamming program neglected to include a couple of important pieces of info there, like a verb, and a noun, both of which would allow me to make an educated decision about this issue. Want to what on the top of what? Oh, don't answer that. We all know those spamming programs have their algorithms in the gutter. Here's another subject line, from "Letitia": She wants a better sex? And from "Reginald" : To boy or not to boy? Reginald is a philosopher and a bad speller. I hope someone soon will come up with The Idiot's Guide to English for Spammers. "Philip" offers Better sex for her to be hot. He and Letitia should partner up.

I was chatting with a friend about the stupidity of spam, and he sent me what is perhaps the funniest and strangest piece of spam ever.

Haven't the computer programmers already practiced shaving?
Did those students miss eating last winter?
Cathy hasn't practiced reading yet.
I missed shouting carefully.
Have you liked skiing yet?
7
Don't you practice cooking nicely?
I'm not missing surfing.
I'll study as soon as you have liked skiing.
Have you hated surfing lately?

This is a wonderful bit of spam, surely created by some frustrated ESL learners. It sure beats "the book is on the table," "the pen is blue," and "the dog was under the red sofa last night." You know, maybe this is some kind of code. That 7 there in the middle is mighty suspicious. And note the threatening overtones in "I'll study as soon as you have liked skiing." This guy probably strapped his tutor to a skiing machine when he nagged Cathy about not practicing her reading and admonised the programmers for wanting to get out of grammar drills by practing shaving again.

Spam. It's what's for dinner.

Name, what's in a

Johnny B.'s name is Alexandru. Well, that explains the conquering thirst. In this story, he is quoted as saying: "Out of ten missions, only one is against the ethnic Hungarians. Everything was a joke and it was mean [sic] to be a joke that mocks all the problems between Romanians and ethnic Hungarians." Oh, well, why didn't you say that in the first place? That makes all the difference!

So, Alex, since you have such a fantastic sense of humor about these things, I'll tell you what EZA Enterprises is up to these days. We're developing a game in which the Soviets invade Rumania after the Rumanians got more uppity and thoroughly annoying than usual. The Soviets decide they're going to teach the Rumanian insurgents a lesson and so they will slaughter 1 out of every 10 Rumanians they run into (maybe literally...they do come in with tanks). As the player, you're a red commando and your mission is to kill Rumanians on sight (but just 1 out of 10. We're leaving the real carnage for the sequels). This is all in good fun, Alex. All a joke. Next year we'll develop one featuring German fighter pilots targeting Jewish insurgents. And year after next, we plan to have one in which white commandos squash dark-skinned insurgents. It's all for fun, you understand. Not in any way designed to incite to ethnic hatred or anything like that. It's just a way to mock all of humanity's problems.

You're really a butthead, dude.

Mill, hot off the rumor

Looks like the Rumanian authorities are investigating the [sarcasm tag] ever-so-delightful and thoroughly educational game [close sarcasm tag] developed by 2Butthead Designs. The story comes to our newsdesk from The People's Radio (aka "the grapevine") so I'm not sure of its accuracy, which doesn't stop me from hoping the Rumanian authorities get totally wild and crazy on Johnny's ass. That'd elevate them on my estimation, but it still won't cancel out the whole real estate thing. Anyway, Johnny's since toned down his page and yesterday his forum, where Ruminants and Hungarians were going at it with gusto and in three languages, was closed. The plot thickens.

Live, 36 hours to

While Johnny B. (rumors that the B. stands for Bonehead have not yet been confirmed) is busy witn intergalactic ethnic conflict, Hungarian and American scientists are busy trying to figure out the rate of decay of a news story. What a waste of time, huh, when they could be working for the Hungarian insurgency that's trying to bring down the whole of the Rumanic Galactic Empire.

If you have trouble following the article on Physics Web, try the NPR coverage of the story, which includes a very useful graphic which will no doubt clarify the concept considerably. This is important because after 36 hours we will probably forget the story was ever there, so might as well get as much as out of it while the news is hot.

Warning: sarcasm ahead. (Dangerous curves. Falling rocks. Moose crossing.)




It's awesome that these guys are dedicating their careers to this kind of stuff, because really, we have way too many people now trying to find the cure for cancer, AIDS, and other human diseases, or trying to fight poverty, hunger, child and spousal abuse, drunk driving, etc. These things have gone past their expiration date. Old hat. Boooring. We need fresh research that will help Web marketers annoy innocent Web surfers who just want to download porn, check out naked pics, and then download some more porn. Hey, there's a solution for the problem of the limited half-life of a news story. Add plenty of smut to it.

Conducător, return of the

And this is how you salute me from now on, see?

The Return of the Conducător

The place: Rumania (formerly known as the Milky Way galaxy)

The time: the distant future

As we saw in the prequel to our game, the Rumanians conquered everything. The whole galaxy. They had a bit of a glitch at one point because of the Hungarian revolt. Happily the Hungarians, being the most intelligent beings in the Universe, devised a method whereby they could travel interdimensionally. I can't tell you how it works, only that it involves paprika and chaos theory. Anyway, they took all of Hungary with them (including pre-1920 lands. In the future, there's a huge crater in that area.) and now live happily in a vast territory in another universe, having created a peaceful and diverse kingdom, etc. etc. They are gone, baby. Szia, Ruminants. La revedere!

The Return of the Conducător deals with what happened after the Hungarians left. The Rumanians, having conquered all and not having any non-Rumanian scum to shoot at, got terribly bored. (Let that be a lesson to you all: never use up your non-renewable resources.) They had nothing to do, really, but build more lively grey apartment buildings and orphanages, and this gets old very fast. Their emperor -- a descendant of Johnny B. (rumors that the B stands for Bigot have not yet been confirmed) and coincidentally also named Johnny B. -- tried cheering the people up. He even organized secret trials and mass executions, but the people just yawned. They were bored. They pined for the good old days.

This great melancholy made it all the way to Hell, to Old Nic's ears. "They want me back!" he exclaimed. "I knew they'd miss me, the suckers!" Filled with optimism, he petitioned Satan, and Satan, being he's got a good sense of humor, let him go back to Rumania (now the name of the whole galaxy) and rule again.

In our game, you are one of Nicky's Securitat agents. Your missions will be varied, from shooting citizens randomly because you're too drunk to care, to organizing raids, to building orphanages for the children of the people you kill (you're not a child murderer. You will wait until the little buggers grow up and then you shoot'em), to enforcing the Conducător's laws, which grow increasingly insane as the game progresses: from enforced pregnancies (we can't have enough Rumanians...all women must have a minimum of 15 kids. And forget the state rewards...ha, that was the 1980s...this is now, baby! No more Mr. Nice Nicky), to rounding up people to be taken to the forced labor camps where they'll be building temples for the worship of the Leader.

Point accrual varies and is tied to the number of people you execute or take to the camps. You lose points every time the Geniul din Carpaţi doesn't like how you're playing the game. He gets more capricious as he goes along, and at one point almost looks like the guy from Stargate and develops a particular dislike of former emperor Johnny B. and all his descendants.

The game is now in beta testing. It will be released to the general public soon. In the meantime, EZA Enterprises would like to remind those who may have any kind of problems with this game, that it is just a game. Johnny B. said it brilliantly on his site:

There seems to be a huge controversy regarding our soon-to-be-released game. There are some people, of Hungarian origin, that seem to be bothered by a side-mission in our game, where the Romanian pilots try to quell an insurgency caused by Hungarian separatists. The mission and subsequent actions in the game should not be confused with real life. We are in a FICTIONAL game, containing FICTIONAL storylines. Please leave your petty nationalism out of an otherwise fun game. We appreciate both Hungarian and Romanian views and issues on the matter, but please, let politicians handle them, not video games. Next time, we attack Buhtan.

Question, that is the

So, traveling around the blogs I like, I found this post, which I thought was very cool. That's a really deep question, methinks. Would you rather live without a soul for one year or live in Budapest for the rest of your life? I think I'd pick the first choice, because it's only for a year. After that I can always live in Budapest if I so choose, right? Emily's dream doesn't make it clear if there's any kind of caveat or small print here. It seems to me you can do the first choice and then go on to live in Budapest forever if that's your cup of tea.

Yeah. I'd definitely live without a soul for a year. That's about how long it takes to get it dry cleaned, tuned up, etc., anyway. Afterwards I might consider the Budapest option.

As for the other questions:

1. Dead snake.

2. Depends. How creepy are we talking about?

3. Car crash.

4. I'd rather be happy. Maybe happily married to a filthy rich guy wouldn't be bad either.

Dictionaries, update your

Merriam-Webster has added some new words to its dictionary, making them an official part of the English language. Those of us who used them illicitly before can now say them aloud and without embarrassment:

to google
spyware
ringtone
mouse potato
unibrow
drama queen
empty suit
himbo (male bimbo)

Congratulations, new words. You know you've made it when you're in the dictionary.

Key, moderation is the

What's with bloggers who set their blogs to accept comments only from other bloggers?? Not everyone's a scribbler/typer, guys. Some people are just readers. Why not just turn on moderation? I love it. It lets me realize my dream of being a petty dictator. Free speech? Not here, dude. Oh, yeah, baby. I do what I want, but always in the people's name.

Dead, Ceauşescu is still

I think there should be an HTML tag for sarcasm. This way people who aren't native English speakers would understand that this post is not favorable to Johnny B. (rumors that the B. stands for Butthead have not yet been confirmed) or his game. I was a little puzzled by some feedback, until I realized there had been a misunderstanding, at least on the part of the Hungo nationals. Ironically, the Rumanians got I was trashing them. Ha ha.

To summarize/clarify:

I do not support the rewriting of history.
I love Hungarians. I'm part Hungarian. I live with a bunch of Hungarians. I date a Hungarian!
I know what belongs to whom.
I know the Rumanian government lies. "Masters of mendacity" means they're masters of lies.
I think Johnny B. is an idiot.
I think Johnny B.'s game is crap.
I think Ceauşescu deserved what he got.
I do not hate the Rumanians in general.
I despise those who rewrite history.
I despise those who incite to hatred.
If you think calling me "bozgor bitch" will intimidate me, you are stupider than cabbage. Boiled cabbage at that.
I spell it "Rumanian" on purpose. If the Rumanian government and/or its flock of believers have a problem with it, give back what you stole and then we can talk. Otherwise, suck it up.

and finally:

Ceauşescu is still dead. Party on!

Parade, idiots on

Thanks to on-the-ball reader Leslie for sending in this article and this one, both dealing with racist groups who promote violence towards others via video games. Draw your own conclusions.

Space!, Rumanians in

Romanii In Spatiu. Star Wars, Bucharest-style.

One of my correspondents in Europe (kösz, A.J.!)alerted me to a new intergalactic war game (apparently beta testing as we speak) featuring those whacky, loveable dudes, those masters of mendacity, those aces of alternative history, the Rumanians! What are those cuddly darlings up to this time? Doing what they excel at, of course.

The developer of the game, who goes by the nom de guerre "Johnny B." (rumors that B. stands for Buffoon have not yet been confirmed), reversed engineered history and created a world in which Nicolae Ceauşescu conquered the U.S. in 1988. Smart move for the PR-conscious Nicky, since by doing this he avoided being shot to death by his own people in 1989! Brilliant strategy, really. After conquering the US and Canada and the whole wide world, the brave and tenacious Rumanians expand into space (it's all the hot air) and rule the galaxy and possibly fill it with cute orphanages and lively grey Communist-style apartment housing.

Fast forward a little, and we find that our friends have conquered all. They are bored, weary with power. What are they to do? Johnny B. needs to spice up the plot! Will he be up to it? Oh ye of little faith! Of course he will! This Visigoth of videogames, this veritable golem will never disappoint. Picking up his knuckles from the floor, he codes in a genius plot twist: insurgency!

See, not everything is wine and cabbage rolls in Paradise. There is discontent in the kingdom. Not everyone is thrilled with the Pax Rumanica. Trouble is brewing on a planet far, far away. Focused as they were on rewriting history (which does take a lot of time, given there's so much evidence to destroy), the Rumanians forgot to complete their self-appointed mission at the beginning of their galactic venture: to "viciously murder millions of non-Rumanian alien scum. " Damn, I hate when that happens, don't you? You think you got all the scum but you left some around, and then the whole thing comes to bite you in the ass, and it always happens when you're in the middle of busily fabricating ties to the Romans and covering up scads of evidence to the contrary. It sucks!

And you know what's even more tragic?? When the people you forget to massacre are none other than the Hungarians! "Remnants of the former republic of Hungary have formed a new nation on a recently-conquered planet. They claim independence and a chance to live freely. This cannot stand." You can say that again. Could it be any worse? You know how Hungarians are. They're probably demanding silly things like independence, freedom, and maybe the return of that thing with mountains and rivers you stole eons ago.

Those Hungarians, huh? They just don't understand that the evidence won't destroy itself, and that you are busy, busy, busy with the whole misinformation machine. Some people just have no sense of timing.

So the brilliant Johnny B. creates a wonderful, fun-filled world of ethnic hatred, suitable for children of all ages. Masterful, really, because everyone knows kids don't like to read much nowadays, and even though those revisionist Rumanian textbooks are more thrilling than any other work of fiction ever written, the kids won't touch them. So how do you teach them the government's version of events? Why via a videogame, of course! Now they can happily murder virtual Hungarians and hone their skills for real life. Why should the Serbs and Croatians have all the fun?

Johnny B.'s game has inspired EZA Enterprises to come up with a new video game which coinicidentally also features the incomparable, self-appointed Geniul din Carpaţi, Nicolae Ceauşescu. Stay tuned for more info on this game.

This just in: Ceauşescu is still dead. Celebrations continue.

Dick, spotted

Made you look again. Really, you have to get out more, you know.

Spotted Dick. It's apparently food. Yes, I know, it sounds more like something you catch than something you eat. But unlike STDs, it comes in cans too! How's that for convenient?

No offense to our friends overseas. I'm sure it's quite delightful...but you guys really need to work on the name and the presentation. Or serve it with a lot of booze.

Thank you Leslie for alerting me to the existence of this delicacy.

Light, by the dawn's early

Today is Independence Day in the USA. No, this is not the day when we celebrate Jeff Goldblum's victory over the aliens. What we do celebrate on this day is our inalienable right to grill, something that the Brits never allowed our ancestors to do, because Brits prefer boiled foods and dishes with strange names like Toad in the Hole. So we left the British Isles on rickety ships, came to the New World, dumped a whole bunch of tea into the sea, and had ourselves a BARBECUE!! Oh yeah, baby! That's the American Way!

My dad likes to cook outside, because Man Cook With Fire, GRRRR, so today he and a bunch of his friends/relatives/neighbors are all gathered around the grill, drinking beer and discussing the best way to stack coal. In the meantime, the Women Folk have prepared enough food to feed the Chinese for a month: potato salad, biscuits, cookies, ice cream, cakes, pies, corn on the cob, green salad, cucumber salad, tomato salad and some non-American foods such as the ever present lángos, which are good any time, any place, in any country. Nothing like sushi and lángos, or paella and lángos, and if you must have Toad in the Hole, stuff it in between two lángos cakes.

The men have a pile of dead animal products they did not hunt, kill, or dress, all ready to sit on top of the grill getting nice and roasted. There are steaks, hamburgers, hot dogs, and many different types of sausages. And nearby there is a big ol' tub filled with ice, in which the long necks of beer bottles stick out like asparagus. Because beer isn't alcoholic enough, there is also plenty of wine, plenty of Scotch, and plenty of homemade pálinka to cancel out calories.

Men say women are chatterboxes, but let me tell you, those guys out there are making enough of a racket to wake up the dead soldiers of the American revolution. Along with the thrilling topic of coal-stacking, there are lively conversations about football (Italy plays Germany today!), politics, cars, and gardening. Some people are shouting in Hungarian, others in English, and others in some unintelligible tongue that may well be Swahili.

My mother is sharing some pictures with her lady friends and there is much giggling going on, especially over the "kilts up" pictures, which depict a whole bunch of guys standing on a hill, mooning the camera. I'm embarrassed to say I've seen sides of my Scottish relatives I had never seen before. Tsk tsk, lads. I've heard of voguing, but I don't think this is exactly what Madonna had in mind, though who knows what goes on in the mind of the Material Girl. And yes, it's true what they say about the Scots and their kilts. Nothing but bare bottoms under there, and some of them hairy.

There are kids aplenty here too, running around squealing like piglets and getting in trouble. I actually witnessed a couple of these adorable tykes put Turtle in the koolaid. Turtle lives in the garden, and he/she isn't the fastest turtle in the world. In fact, it rarely moves, so the delightful little urchins thought it would be fun to add it to the punch for extra reptilian flavor. I rescued poor Turtle and told the kids that if they got near him/her again they'd have to drink the punch. I'm never having kids.

To my fellow Americans: have a fun and safe Fourth, lock away your pets, ductape the kids to the wall, and last but not least: bottoms up!

Sex?, do you practice safe

Made you look! No, this is not a sex post. It's another phrasebook post, because I got several emails from alert readers who sent me some more international phrases, and I felt the duty to reprint them here for travelers everywhere. Because it's summer, and people travel, and it's important to communicate with foreigners in their own language. This shows we care about their culture.

The title of this post comes from a Hindi phrasebook, and if you're going to India for a naughty vacation, you may as well learn this phrase, because it's a scary world out there and you don't want to catch anything. So, repeat after me: Kya: a:p ka:ndam ka: istema:l [karte/karti:] hai~? Oh, come on, say it like you mean it, for pete's sake.

Ah, Russia. Such a lovely country. Before you go, you need to know that communism is just a red herring. There was an expose in Pravda about the whole thing, but it's too long and cyrillic to reprint here. When in Moscow, you may want to go visit Red Square, or the Kremlin, and you may want to pick up a few souvenirs. Before you do, learn this phrase until it rolls off your tongue like the dew rolls of a rose petal: Ja vozjmu u vas mochu na analiz (I want a specimen of your urine). Some people buy those dolls within dolls, but you don't have to be like everyone else, nyet?

Surely you will go to Poland sooner or later. Everyone does, because Tuscany's so crowded. When in Poland, you will want to augment your souvenir collection with something authentically Polish, but the language barrier may embarrass you. Worry not, help is at hand. March into that store with your head held high and intone the following: Ile placimy za dzieci? (What do we pay for the children?) And you thought you'd have to go to Bangkok for this. Ha! If some Polish national reacts in a negative way about this, use your menacing voice and say: Przes'wietle, panu ze,by. (I will x-ray your teeth). Nothing scares them more than a crazed dentist.

I know you really like Somalia, because come on, who doesn't? Doctors are in short supply over there so chances are that just as you're getting ready to sunbathe, you will be pressed into service. Here's a useful phrase in case you're handed a scalpel. Just hold that baby in your hand and say with confidence: Waa inaan ku qalaa (I must operate on you.). Given that most people feel the urge to perform surgery at one time or another, no one will think this strange. And with a little practice you will be removing kidneys like a pro. You will thank me later when you make scads of money selling organs in the black market.

After you're done harvesting, please remember to say: Waa inaan duugnaa isaga (We must bury her). Don't leave bodies around, please. This isn't the Middle Ages.

Should you find yourself penniless in India and decide to join the oldest profession, don't sell yourself short. Meet unreasonable requests from Telegu speakers with: Ra dam di, dha ra pe ri gi po yi na di (Cannot, Sir, the price has gone up).

Now go pack your bags. Life is short.

Champions, breakfast of

So now that the 'rents are back, the Maternal Unit can once more return to her Sunday breakfast making duties, which will make many a take out joint owner cry, as their earnings will go down considerably from last week. Because see, I'm not so much into cooking, so when my parents were in Europe, we had so much takeout here that we got phone calls from the governors of two states thanking us for all we're doing for the economy.

So it's back to the Sunday brunch ritual. My mom makes Hungarian food on Sundays, and just like the Coneheads, we consume massive quantities. Most people are familiar with that old story people of the female persuasion tell their kids: "Don't leave food on your plate. Do you know how many people are starving in the world?" We take that to heart. Interestingly enough, we're not overweight at all. My theory, and I haven't proven this yet, though I plan to do some field research very soon, is that pálinka cancels out calories. Stay tuned for my groundbreaking paper on the matter. It will definitely change the way you diet.

A good way to start your breakfast is with a glass of plum juice, and there's one right there in the photo. Plums are very healthy, so my dad, being as much as he is into health stuff, likes to drink a little glass of plum juice, very much like the one in the picture, in the mornings. On Sundays we all follow his lead, and let me tell you, that little glass of plum juice sure makes you see the world in rosier colors. Plus like I said, it cancels out calories. As soon as I get my grant, I will be happy to demonstrate this in a scientific way. I already have several volunteers for my study, but in the meantime, just take my word for it.

Baaack, they're

The 'rents are back from their European vacation. They had a great time at the wedding, ate a lot, saw family and friends, and slightly heavier, continued on to Ye Olde Country, where they also ate a lot, had a lot of fun and gathered further poundage as they visited friends and family. My dad called home almost every day to inquire after the health of the assorted wines. It's like he doesn't trust me or something! Ha ha. Mom called to let me know it was really but really hot in Hungary (she used a rather colorful expression that means it's quite hot indeed, but I can't reprint it. Suffice it to say I got the message that it was pretty darn hot over there). When they returned, my dad went straight to the wine and counted heads. Man, steal some wine and you're marked for life around here!

So then he invited friends and rels to watch the matches, which again resulted in a full house and a lot of noise, plus the usual massive quantities of food. Steve was here too, and his brother, and his dad, and a whole bunch of other people.

Maria Eugenia had left the day before, sadly. I'll miss her. We had a great time here and in NYC, and of course doing pálinka duty at my uncle's. So now she's learned a skill and can make the stuff with the best of them. We'd made a mess of the house, so several of us took a few hours to clean up so my mom wouldn't have a stroke as she walked in. The kitchen and den were the worst areas, looking like Attila (the Hun dude) had given a huge party for 2000 of his closest and rowdiest friends and they had ordered out from every Chinese, Italian, and Greek joint in the plains. But we worked as a well oiled cleaning machine and soon there were no traces. And a big thanks to the Mark-Antal-Bettina team for their amazing handling of all the garbage. Their team was as well organized as Navy SEALs. A special mention goes to Steve and Val, the Magic Maids (Steve looks lovely in an apron and with a bandanna tied around his head, by the way) for the excellent way they Febrezed everything.

So now we're back to our dysfunctional, normal selves. It's midsummer, though, so there's still time to get into more mischief. Stay tuned.