Happy Happy Philly Weekend

Hi, everybody. Welcome to Happy Happy Philly Weekend. I'm Harry Menpdhrtkd. It's been a happy happy weekend so far in town. Let's see how things are going at the Jersey Shore with our Jersey Shore reporter Loishia Lane. How's the shore been treating you, Lo -- lots of sun and fun?
Lots of sun and fun indeed, Harry. But there is some disturbing news to report. Some young summer day campers were traumatized today while on a dolphin-sighting cruise off of Cape May. It seems the boat had just spotted a large group of dolphins not far from the Cape May Lighthouse and moved in closer to get a look. Just as they approached the dolphins some sort of large sea creature attacked the whole group, tearing several of the dolphins apart and apparently eating them in front of the horrified children.
Whoa! Look out Flipper! I guess being a dolphin is tougher than just bouncing a beach ball off of your nose. Hmmm. Sad. So, tell me Lo, I hear there's lots of great nightlife down the shore this weekend. Tell me more about your escapade with the tequila contest. I heard you won -- what was it, 13 shots? I heard you got pretty jiggy.
Well, um, yes Harry. The Jersey Shore nightlife is always lots of fun. ... But authorities still have no idea what attacked the dolphins and have closed the beaches to swimmers as far north as Sea Isle City. Authorities also, um .... How did you hear about the tequila contest Harry?
Oh, a little birdie told me. We have our sources in the newsroom, you know. That's why we call it a newsroom. But, hey, that's really tough about those dolphins. I guess when they woke up in the morning they weren't expecting to be eaten by a sea monster. But, you never know right? I mean, I bet you never expected to wake up on the beach naked in Atlantic City this morning either. You should probably stop dating those mob guys.
What? ... That ... didn't happen. I ... I don't date mob guys. ... How could you possibly know any of this????

You may want to re-read that diary of yours, cupcake. ... Hey, that's all the time we have for the Jersey Shore Report. After the break, Gov. Rendell rates his top 500 cheesesteaks in Philly as Happy Happy Philly Weekend continues.

Viva La Resistance!

I'm in!

Thank, you Player -- you arrogant prima donna -- for the great idea. I may be far from the ethereal realm here in my tree fort but I've managed to crack Blogger and hack into this blog the old fashioned way. And I don't go POOF!

This message is for you Marge. We're tired of toying with your pumped lackey Dodger and your silly spirits and we are coming for you.

This blog will be returned to the forces of good in the name of our fallen leader and you will be vanquished to Hell, er, Hades where you belong.

Long live Atown-Liker!

-- Team Green

Yo, from the spirit world

Well look who it is. Damn, I'm good!

Seems that wicked OLD witch can't keep The Player down. Now that I'm an ethereal being here in the spirit world, seems I can pop on up on this blog anytime I want to.

Fact is, when I'm done here I'm gonna pop onto the Bronco's Web site and demand my money. ... I mean the Cowboys. That's right, the Cowboys. Then I'm gonna pop on down to McNabb's blog and find out how come he got sick in the Superbowl. Too much of your momma's damn soup, huh? That's right. It's The Player's time now.

Other guy I'm sick of is that damn Truman freak. Flittin around up here in the spirit world like he owns the damn place drinkin them damn Mojitos. I'll tell you what ... Hey! Wait ... NO! DAMN! ... ***POOF!***

Crime and punishment

As I prepare for my first inspection of this dreadful city, I feel it is time to begin providing my dear friends with some of my progressive views on topics of social concern.

When I was young girl, criminal justice was much less complicated. Daddy would simply impale criminals on long spikes outside the castle walls.

If the crime was insignificant, such as public begging, the impalement would be short -- perhaps a day. If the crime was severe then the criminal might hang on that pole for months.

Recidivism was unheard of, as most of the criminals died immediately upon impalement.
I have a similar plan for Allentown, though one much more humane than impalement. That would be rather old school, yes?

There is a relatively tall building very near here I'm told. My plan is to situate into that edifice the League of Justice, or whatever the criminal justice system is called in these parts. Criminals would be brought to the building, declared guilty and thrown off. Criminals accused of the most heinous crimes -- murder or usurping one's blog and defiling its color scheme would qualify -- will be thrown from the highest floors; those accused of less serious offenses will be thrown from the lower floors.

I would expect recidivism to be quite low as most criminals would not survive the resulting impact. The injuries incurred by those who do survive will likely make them unable to commit further crimes.

Sometimes the simplest solutions are the best.

Regards,

Marge

Simpler times

I've been resuscitated and I am feeling quite well, thank you.

While sorting through some old photographs earlier today I came upon this one from my childhood, when I was sent to Japan and other countries to study the martial arts and combat.

I thought I would share it with you, my dear friends.

I am pictured here in the rickshaw with my nanny, Yui, a driver and the driver's assistant. I'm afraid I don't remember their names. They also perished mysteriously in a rock slide moments after this photo was taken.

What a beautiful memory. (Aside from the rock slide)

Preparations

In light of a recent spate of setbacks I have some refreshingly wonderful news to report, my dear friends: My exquisite sedan chair has arrived from my vacation chalet in Turkey.

My custom made litter is photographed here with my sturdy former Turkish man servants, Malik and Mr. Abbas. Sadly these two young Turks perished in a mysterious rock slide a few months ago, shortly before I left that cradle of civilization in rather a hurry.

But I've never been one to dwell in the past, that much need not be said. Team Marge, such as it is, lives for the future!

I am currently making arrangements for my first foray into the town since I've become ensconced in this dreadful burgh.

My plan is to have my recently unreliable assistants, Messieurs Dodger and Karl act as my porters to carry me about the nearby streets so that I can see for myself the task I have set before me. Nay, not task. That is not the appropriate word. Rather the mission I have set before me. For it is with a missionary's fervor that I will attack this city, much as the courageous crusaders attacked the ancestors of poor Malik and Abbas in days of yore.

My first order of business will be to greet my subjects in their natural setting as they scurry about the streets, busily doing all of the things people in their situations do. Then I shall tour the boutiques, the galleries, the spas, the resort areas and the high end dining establishments that the downtown area has to offer.

I expect this expedition to be quite illuminating.

Drat, some of the tubes from my various medical apparati seem to have become entangled and I am starting to feel faint.

I must go now.

'Tis the heart and not the brain that to highest doth attain,

and he who followeth love's behest far excelleth all the rest!

Some rain must fall

Into each life some rain must fall. I believe in that sentiment, but suddenly, dear friends, I have become Joe Bftsplk.

.

First I travel overseas to visit a dear sick friend, only to witness her rain destruction upon the hospital and panic an entire city. Now the poor dear thing is missing and presumed drowned in the Mediterranean. It seems she was somehow incompetently injected with some sort of hybrid Amphibian Growth Hormone while she lay in a coma. I wonder how that may have happened?

.

To makes matters worse, while I was away on my mission of mercy, my treasonous assistant, The Player, usurped my entire blog and changed its meticulously crafted color schemes, braying all the while for more money. Rest assured, dear friends, his position here has been terminated. He has also, coincidentally, been hacked to death with what is known around headquarters as a Keyser blade, though some may call it a slingblade. However, as long as he remains in the spirit world it may be impossible to completely silence him.

.

If that weren't enough, my steadfast gardener, Karl, took it upon himself to use that blade upon The Player without my permission in my very own kitchen. The resulting mess has destroyed the sense of order I sought to instill in these headquarters. To compound his transgression, Karl then created an unauthorized post of his own. His butchering of The Player paled in comparison to his treatment of that horrible joke of his. He shall be severely reprimanded.

.

To complete this list of cataclysmic events, my other assistant, the pharmacologically challenged and incompetent R. Dodger, had himself briefly captured by the loathsome Green Guy and the dimwitted Miss Emily. I understand he was hung by his feet by the erstwhile Team Atown-Liker and pummeled with dung. That sounds appropriate, actually. He is now complaining of a sore head and posterior.

.

Worst of all, these events transpired under the apparently not-so-watchful eye of my trusted confidant, MDDFT. Words cannot convey my disappointment in him. Luckily for him, he also lives in the spirit world and is for the most part beyond my reach.

.

That may be everything; and it's quite enough, don't you think. But if you've come to know anything about your Marge, you know she is resilient and unflappable ... OH DEAR GOD! Is this VOMIT on my beautiful snow-white polar bear carpet???? And ... Many of the bear heads have their EYEBALLS MISSING!!!

.

KARL!!!! DODGER!!!! TRUMAN!!!!!

Fixin' to tell a joke

Hmmm. Knock knock: hmmm You got ol'Prince Albert in that there can? Hmmmm. Who's at th'door? Hmmmm. mmm. No. He in Arkansas. Git it?

Woman trashes hospital, flees into sea

MONTE CARLO, MONACO (WIN) -- A woman linked to the royal family in this tiny principality, which consists of a casino, a bank, a castle, a cathedral and a marina, reportedly destroyed an entire wing of a hospital (OK there's a hospital, too) early Thursday.

The woman, known as the Countess (and some really long unpronounceable name that will freeze my computer if I use spellcheck) had been in a coma in the hospital after a botched cosmetic surgery.

.

Witnesses said she suddenly awoke from the coma, jumped out of her bed, smashed medical equipment and furniture and kicked down several walls. She also reportedly threw doctors, nurses and security personnel around like rag dolls before jumping through a fifth-floor window. Later, witnesses at the marina reported a "monster" jumped into the water and swam out into the Mediterranean Sea.

One woman who arrived to visit the Countess just moments after her escape said, simply, "This is unacceptable." The woman, who did not leave her name, then broke a WIN photographer's arm, and tore off his left ear with her teeth before spitting it out and saying, "No photographs, please, my dear boy."

A spokesman for the Grimaldi family said the Countess' relationship to the royals is unclear: "There are lots of royals running around these days and it's hard to keep track of them all. We just keep checking the police news. One thing is certain: They all have too much money and too much time on their hands. However, if she is one of ours, we have no comment."

Prince Albert has reigned over Monaco, which seems to exist solely as a tax shelter for the very rich, since the death of his father, Prince Rainier, in 2005. A spokesman for the prince said, "No, he is not in a can and never has been. Grow up."

-- Wal-Mart International News "WIN with our everyday low prices"

When Marge is away The Player will play

Well, well well.

Ain't nobody here but me and the good Lord. I've been trying to get traded off of this blog but Marge won't let me go. But now she's off flying around God knows where, Dodger is out in the woods again gettin his ass kicked by the Green Dude and Karl's off somewhere doing whatever it is he does. That Truman freak is flittin around here but I don't give a damn about some ghost. Jesus is my shield.

Last night I broke into Marge's room in the basement and I slept in one of her hyperbaric chambers. The Player is refreshed and ready to take what is rightfully his. First I went on the Internet to find out the team colors my football team, the, um, Colts -- I mean Cowboys -- and made a few changes.

If Marge won't trade me to another blog, I'll just make this blog my own.

Here's some interesting statistics:

81 -- my receptions last year
1,355 -- my yards last year
15 -- my touchdowns last year
0 -- my Superbowl rings
130 -- my receptions last year if Romo would throw me the damn ball
2,000 -- my yards last year if Romo would throw me the damn ball
25 -- my touchdowns last year if Romo would throw me the damn ball
12 -- my Superbowl rings if Young, Garcia, McNabb and Romo would throw me the damn ball

That's the God's honest proof of what I've been saying all along.

OK, kids. See ya all next time on The Players Blog!

MDDFT's POV

MDDFT here,

Just a note to introduce myself and to say that I'm in charge of the blog while Marge is away. I'll have to keep this short because I may just poof away into the spirit world at any time.

I've been living in the ethereal realm between Heaven and, ahem, Hades for nearly 30 years and it's simply delicious. Most people languish here and go around haunting old hotels to get on television, but I must tell you I'm as happy as a clam at high tide. There are interesting people, I can eat, drink and take as many pills as I want to and I can see everybody on earth naked!

Anyway ... uh-oh ... POOF!

Out with the old

By now you are marveling at the fresh new appearance of this once-hideous blog.

As I have often said, "Same old Hamptons, same old Maserati." So it's out with the old, and in with the new, as some of the more common folk might put it.

After finally turning this blog's fetid headquarters into an habitable domicile, I have transformed the blog itself into a monument to geometry and good taste. Beige, I believe, is the color of heaven. I shall have to check with The Player on that.

Some people, however, are obsessed with the past and have a difficult time of letting it go. And believe me, gentle readers, you will have to let your preconceived notions of this malodorous city go before I am through with you.

But have faith. Since there have been numerous queries from the blogosphere, as it were, as to the fate of some of those who have come before me (and whom I have spent considerable time and energy cleaning up after), I have decided to provide a onetime update on this establishment's former employees.

He Whose Name Shall Not Be Spoken: Accidentally poisoned and detonated.

Karl: Karl remains on staff as a gardener and general handyman. The man is a wonder when it comes to wielding a rusty blade. The former proprietor, whose name, I think, should remain as rooted in the past as its owner most certainly was, had literally let this place go to seed. Karl has done wonders to tame that backyard and all of those horrible trees that grow in it.

The Countess: If she is a countess then I am the tooth fairy. And let me assure you that I am not the tooth fairy. When last heard from, she was in Monaco having her head grafted onto a zebra or some such. She apparently has suffered some unforeseen complications of that surgery and is indefinitely incapacitated. I am told she is in a coma. How appropriate.

The dimwitted Miss Emily: Perhaps she wandered into an unfamiliar neighborhood and can't find her way home. Who knows. She hasn't been heard from. There have been reports that she may be in hiding. (And she should be!) Clearly her absence will have no ill-effects on the future of the human genome.

The green creature: It has likewise flown the coop, as the former proprietor of these headquarters was no doubt likely to say. I suspect he has gone off to forage in the woods, where his natural camouflage might afford him some slight advantage over common squirrels and whatnot. At any rate a person of that color had no future here.

The felines: When last seen they were happily living in their natural state as well. Thankfully, they have not been spotted lately. One of them seemed quite stupid. Perhaps that green fellow has eaten them.

Past members who remain on my current team include the muscular R. Dodger and the increasingly insubordinate The Player, who has asked to be traded to another blog.

The most recent addition to Team Marge will be My Dear Dead Friend Truman. MDDFT, who spends much of his time in the spirit world, has been added to the blog as my personal adviser.

Because he lives with one foot in the blogosphere and one foot in the spiritual realm, his blog entries may occasionally go POOF!

I am currently en route to an undisclosed location, dear friends, and I shall speak with you again soon.

Cheerio!

Housecleaning

Oh, and I do mean housecleaning. Mr. Atown-Liker used to claim this house we use as our beachhead against this dreary city is more than 150 years old. It is unlikely that a broom has been scraped across its filthy floors in all of that time.

But yesterday's spasm of activity has transformed this place into a shining example of what can be accomplished when one puts one's mind to something. Rest assured, dear friends, when I am through, we shall say the same thing about this now-decrepit city as we toast my successes with a brace of bellinis.

.

(As a side note, I would be remiss in not mentioning that

Karl has been a revelation. Despite my initial skepticism, this gentle giant is a wonder. When it comes to gardening, wielding nothing but his little Keyser blade as he calls it, he can do the work of a team of landscapers with a shedful of exotic tools. And frankly he is much more cost-effective than some others who shall remain unidentified. The man seems to subsist on Spam and pommes frites. )

When Team Marge arrived to liberate these headquarters, as it were, I was appalled to find an army of cats living within its garishly painted walls. My first order of business was to turn the vermin out of the house and into nature, where they were meant to be. Now they are happily foraging about, living free. I also ordered Karl to lace the grounds with poison.

Yes, those walls. They were an assortment of yellows, and turquoise, and gold, and blue, and green .... I am becoming rather nauseated from simply thinking about them. I immediately had them all colored in beige. Now you could stand quietly in a tan outfit and be quite invisible to others in the room. I do this frequently.

The place was also filled with a dubious collection of knickknacks extolling the virtues of imbibing alcoholic beverages, principally beer. This, I'm sure, comes as a surprise to no one who had ever met the man, whose lowbrow sensibilities were well known about the town. I promptly had Karl pack up this dusty collection of junk and move it into one of the horrid third-floor chambers of this abode, provided he can find any space to put it. I shall endeavor to find someone to appraise the entire lot in the unlikely event there is something of value hidden among the debris.

The aforementioned wooden floors are now gloriously covered with a wall-to-wall carpet fashioned from snow-white polar bear hides and the effect is quite stunning. I also had the musty old antiques that littered the building carried to the curb and replaced with rough-hewn Paul Bunyan-style furniture. The effect, in concert with the polar bear heads that stud the floor, is quite commanding.

In the weeks and months to come I shall lay out my plan to destroy this city so that it, too, may be reborn and I shall use these headquarters as a model.

Since I haven't actually seen any of the city yet -- Team Marge was whisked here in a private ambulance in the dead of night and I have yet to venture outside -- a brief tour shall be on my agenda sometime within the next several days.

Oh my. It is time for my injections already. I must go.

In Marge we trust! Ho ho!

Furniture shopping

Mere words cannot describe the deplorable condition into which these premises have fallen under the stewardship of my predecessor.

This morning has been spent fumigating, sanitizing, sterilizing, eradicating, pesticizing, irradiating, burying, burning, deodorizing, painting, dismantling and exorcising this building so that it may become habitable. The ever-present Karl is busily chopping and hacking away in the yard with that rusty blade of his. There have been a phalanx cleaners, exterminators, painters, carpenters, iron workers, construction workers, deliverymen, chefs and even a few members of the clergy whipping these headquarters into shape.

Perhaps even a candlestick maker or two will make an appearance! Ho ho! Yes, my dear friends, levity can be of good service in even the most trying of situations.

My own medical personnel, including several highly trained doctors and nurses and various technicians, are occupied with installing themselves and their equipment in the second-floor suite as we speak. My legal team has agreed to live off-premises. They and the doctors are like oil and water together. It can be somewhat tedious.

But now comes the enjoyable part. The Player and I are happily doing some furniture shopping on-line. I have my own delivery system in place, so it won't be long before we are living in a more fitting environment.

Pictured above are some pieces I am considering. Aren't they magnificent? But I wonder if I might have several of those hides sewn into a carpet. I might also like to have some big game heads to stud these walls ....

Oh dear heavens! A high pitched shriek is coming from one of those medical contraptions and suddenly it is becoming increasingly dark in here. I am becoming quite sleepy.

Au revoir, mes amis!

Some good news and some bad news

Hello my dear friends. Many of you may be fortunate enough to know me, but for those of you poor souls who do not, my name is Marge.

I had recently been unduly banished from this pathetic excuse for a blog, but thanks to some fortuitous circumstances, I have returned. From, Hell? I think not. And neither from Hades. as the deranged gardener lurking about these headquarters insists on calling it. (Had I been traveling from the underworld, however, might I have passed a certain inebriated blogger traveling in the other direction? Ho ho!)

And this of course is the good news as indicated by the headline above: I'm back.

I'm back to spread the jagged truth. I'm back to spread my ample wisdom. I am back to share my grand vision on how to save this wretched place we call Allentown. In the weeks and months to come I will give more specifics on my plans to revitalize these squalid environs. And if during that time I am called to lead this city, I shan't back away from that burden.

But all of this can wait. We shall have plenty of time to get to know each other.

Now, because I cannot save the world, as it were, on my own, I'd like to reintroduce my two very capable assistants, who, together with myself, will form Team Marge: The Player and R. Dodger.

As you may recall, these two striking figures were hounded from this blog for their loyalty to me and my vision. They shall be rewarded here and in heaven I have no doubt for their perseverance and unbending commitment to all that is good and righteous.

Before I sign off on the first post of the Marge Era, there is a bit of unpleasant business I must attend to.

Sadly, to some of you anyway, Mr. Atown-Liker is deceased. Apparently he was celebrating his reprehensible actions of yesterday, when he summarily banned my to faithful assistants from his so-called blog. As if he needed an excuse to carry on his intemperate excesses. From what can be ascertained he inadvertently consumed a non-alcoholic beer, fell into shock and staggered off and died miserably in an alley behind the Allentown Brew Works. His body was whisked to Lehigh Valley Hospital where it was detonated by the county's bomb squad as a precautionary measure. They say an autopsy will be impossible.

I imagine that hot dog of his has been removed from his grasp once and for all, yes? Ho ho! But I digress.

This turn of events may be considered, to some misguided souls at least, to be the bad news I alluded to earlier. But I prefer to see it as an opportunity.

Where Atown-Liker would see the glass as half-full (a half-full glass of beer no doubt that he would attempt to finish in a single greedy gulp), I see the glass as a weapon to throw in the face of my tormentors.

To Atown-Liker. Allentown was nice and he liked it here. He was happy simply because someone decided to build a $7 million bar a stone's throw from these headquarters. How perfectly mundane. How terribly inconsiderate of Death to interrupt his lifelong coma.

Not for Marge. No, no, no. Marge is a fighter and Allentown is nice no longer. Allentown is my enemy and I intend to vanquish it, just as Atown-Liker himself was vanquished. (In Atown-Liker's case he was vanquished by natural causes, let's be clear on that point. I'm certain an autopsy, had one been possible, would have shown that to be the case.)

Like death, I shall interrupt this city's coma and what rises from its ashes will be an unspeakably wondrous accomplishment the likes of which mankind ...

Excuse me, my team of physicians has finally arrived and I must attend to them immediately.

Courage!

Housecleaning

As Team Leader, I, Atown-Liker, hereby suspend forever The Player for his recent comments on this blog. Specifically for using foul language, for criticizing R. Dodger's being a complete sycophant and for calling my friend the Green Guy a bitch. I also will suspend myself for the rest of the day for using that word.

R. Dodger is also banned permanently. Though he may be a perfect toady, he's very creepy and I don't like him hanging around headquarters.

They join the evil Marge, who is also permanently banned from this blog and who probably spent her holiday in Hell, where she belongs.

Also, Karl has been moved from the suspended list to the probationary list, in spite of that awful joke he butchered.

Fixin' to tell a joke

Team Member Karl (suspended):

Hmm. There were these two fellers a standin' on a bridge goin' to the bathroom. One feller says the water a cold, other feller said the water was deep. Hmmm. ... I believe one feller was from Arkansas. Git it?

Later, Marge

Marge has been booted from the Allentown is Nice team for having a photo that was much bigger than mine. R. Dodger and Carl have been temporarily suspended.