Not Funny, Eclectic Infidel!

Given Geert Wilders’ newfound “hatemonger” status at LGF, I thought it might be a good idea to take a stroll down memory lane and study the evolution of threads concerning this Dutch politician.

To start, here’s a LOL-worthy comment from that “hatemonger” thread:

Actually, that’s not the LOL-worthy part. This is:

(for the record, here’s the video)

Friggin’ MOONBATS!

For more on the LGF/Wilders transformation, check out the Google search.  You’ll find another thread about an impassioned email that Johnson sent to the hatemonger, made long after Fitna, and Wilders’ calls to have the Koran banned:

Dear Mr. Wilders,

As I’m sure you’ve heard, I am a US blogger who’s very opposed to allowing the Belgian Vlaams Belang party to be involved in any ‘anti-jihad’ movements. I feel that the inclusion of the VB can only damage the reputation and effectiveness of the effort to stop the global jihad, among the vast majority of people — and especially in the US, where any hint of fascism is political poison.

Let me say I admire your efforts against the spread of extremist Islam, although I may not agree with all your positions — and I’ve had great respect for your policy of keeping your distance from the neo-fascists.

But in addition to the political considerations, I’ve done enough research into the group to convince me that their current pose of moderation is a false front. I believe they truly are fascist in origin and in current intentions. I know that some people disagree with this, but I believe strongly that letting this group participate in anti-jihad efforts would be a very large mistake, from both a moral and a practical perspective.

Given that some recent news reports have said you are considering forming an alliance with them, I hope you’ll reconsider.

Would you like to make a statement on this matter for me to publish at LGF? I’ll publish whatever you write without editing.


Charles Johnson

(in the name of boldly going where lizard sycophants won’t go)

We Got Mail!

In the months since we implemented our contact form, we’ve received some pretty interesting emails.  While many of them don’t make it to the DoD front page, yesterday we had one show up that obviously took some time and effort, so here ya go:

Greetings to my chums at the Diary of Daedalus!  My name is Franklin W. Dixon IV, great-grandson of the legendary author of The Hardy Boys Mysteries.  For years, I have attempted to find my own niche within the world of serial novels about mystery solving duos for young adult readers.

My ballet-dancing crime-solvers, the Leotardy Boys, went nowhere.  My teenage, pot-headed private eyes, The Party Boys, bombed out.  And as for the flatulent Far…well never mind, the publishers didn’t even want to hear about it.  But I think I really have something here with my latest title, and your fine web site would seem to be the perfect venue to introduce my creation.  So may I introduce to you and your readers:

The Hardly Boys in The Mystery of the Purloined Pictures


“A correlator tool?  Leaping lizards-what in the world is a correlator tool?”

The Hardly Boys were sprawled about in their crime lab, which they had set up in the basement of their two-story home in the small but thriving town of Culver City, and exuberant, headstrong Killgore was excitedly quizzing his heavyset, ponytailed chum.

Chuck continued typing at his computer as he answered: “The correlator tool is a magical, mega-powerful, incredibly incredible…computer…thing!  And it’s going to help us solve our next case, I just know it.  But I can’t let you see it.  Don’t make me give you a time out!”

Killgore had become accustomed to his pal’s often eccentric mannerisms and ignored this strange outburst.  “But Chuck, I’ve used computers on our cases before.  Didn’t I do a great job with The Secret of the Midnight Troll?”

Chuck chortled softly at the memory, then his jowly face darkened.  “Yes you did.  But have YOU ever created a throbbing GIF?” he demanded.

Chuck was referring to the Hardly Boys’ famous first case,  but Killgore had gone back to flipping through the pages of an old cookbook, unsold cartons of which served as makeshift chairs for the Hardlys as they chatted while waiting for a new mystery to come their way.

“Yikes, Chuck, we really should clean this place up before Aunt Marjorie sees it,” Killgore exclaimed, surveying the litter of empty Cheetos wrappers, rusty bicycle parts and dust-covered boxes of calendars and the cookbooks, the latter two serving as reminders of Chuck’s previous entrepreneurial  endeavors.  “And what’s with all those bottles filled with yellow fluid under your desk?”

“Those aren’t bottles!  Those are, um…fuel cells.  Yes…fuel cells.  For the correlator tool.  Which I can’t show you,”  Chuck explained.  Killgore began to protest but was suddenly interrupted by Chuck’s excited cry:  “Killgore, we have an urgent electronic message coming in from Agent Markos!  He has an assignment for us-an assignment directly from Commander Soros himself!

Killgore leaped to his feet, scattering cookbooks and Cheetos crumbs to and fro.  “The Hardly Boys are on the case!”


Ever since the Hardlys had been introduced to Commander Soros, their Hardly Boys Detective Agency had become busy and profitable.  Commander Soros passed on new mysteries through Agent Markos, and rewarded them generously when they succeeded. Although the junior detectives enjoyed their newfound prosperity (“From now on, it’s only FRESH Cheetos for the Hardly Boys!” the sleuths often exclaimed) the two frequently found themselves in odd and puzzling situations under the leadership of Soros.  Their current task was to catch the dastardly political terrorist who had broken into the computer of the beloved, progressive congressman Wanger and broadcast lewd images said to be of the congressman.  This in an attempt to force from duly-elected office a personal favorite of both Commander Soros and Agent Markos.  The congressman had protested his innocence, and his word was more than enough to assure The Hardlys that he was free from blame.

Chuck finished speaking with Agent Markos and then shouted to his able assistant: “Agent Markos instructed that we are to hurry to a shack on the outskirts of town and meet with two operatives code-named “Iceweasel” and “Jimmah.”  There we will receive a clue!”

“A clue?  Good night!  Let’s go!” shouted Killgore.

“They’re expecting us right away,” answered Chuck, “let’s take the bikes!”


As the Hardlys headed out of Culver City, the well-tended homes and yards gave way to weed-strewn lots and weather-beaten clapboard shanties.  “It’s too bad that some people have to live like this.  Commander Soros says it’s racist,” Killgore remarked as they pedaled.

“That’s because it IS racist, Killgore, and so is the sneaky rascal who hacked the congressman’s Twaddle account,” Chuck responded.  As the sleuths reached the dirtiest end of the street, a voice hissed out from a particularly worn-down hovel.  “Psst…you the Hardly Boys?”

“Yes!” Chuck and Killgore chorused in unison, all the while attempting to peer into the gloomy doorway.  “Iceweasel?  Jimmah?”  Was that a Scottish burr they detected?

A gnarled hand of indeterminate gender had pulled back a few inches of the worn Indian blanket that served as a front door, and a hoarse whisper now beckoned them to approach.

The parched voice spat out only two words before snapping the blanket shut.

The words were:  Bright Bart.


“Well land’s sakes alive, just where have you two been?  Your dinner is ice cold.”  Aunt Marjorie stood with her hands on her hips, blocking the Hardly Boys’ entrance into the kitchen of the brick house at Elm and High Streets.

“We’re glad to see you too, Aunt Marge!” chortled Chuck, squeezing past his scowling aunt.

“We’ll just have some Cheetos down in the lab…FRESH ones!” Killgore shouted, darting past the stern but loving spinster.  The two private dicks chuckled down the stairs, leaving their bewildered Auntie in their wake.

The Hardly Boys had built their state of the art crime lab using the money they had earned from their famous first case, The Clue of the Forged Texas Air National Guard Memos.  Now, Chuck and Killgore munched away happily while Chuck searched the internet for more information on the dreaded con-man known as Bright Bart.  Chuck had trained himself as a master computer programmer, and his skills were soon rewarded.

“Killgore-look!  All of these legitimate, non-biased web sites have the same lowdown on this creep.  It seems that Bright Bart routinely uses people’s own videotaped words and actions against them in a manner that is said to be disrespectful of our government.  Why, that’s just un-American!”

Killgore glanced over Chuck’s shoulder and scanned the evidence at such trustworthy news sites as “The Democratic Overlord,” “The Daily Kon,” “The Little Red Swamp” and “The New York Times,” quickly confirming his partner’s suspicions.  “This goon is dangerous all right.  Maybe we should telephone some of the fellows to help on this case.”

“Good thinking.  You telephone Lewdie while I, um, go IN HERE to, um…DEPLOY the correlator tool,” Chuck mumbled, heading for the bathroom.

“Gee, Chuck, how come you have to go in the bathroom to use the correlator tool?  And how come every time you go in there you carry that picture of your ex-favorite date, Pammie?” Killgore queried.

Chuck was livid.  “That. Shrieking. Harpy. means nothing to me!” he shouted to a nonplused Killgore, slamming the door closed behind him.  When Chuck emerged only a few short minutes later, Killgore had some unpleasant news to report.  He had telephoned their pal Lewdie, who often assisted on their cases, but Lewdie was attending a Global Warming conference out of town that week.  Lewdie had, however, issued a dire warning to the sleuths before ringing off.

“Get this, Chuck-billions will die!”


“It’s a good thing we rushed straight to Gotham!” Killgore remarked as the Hardlys burst from the train station into the bustling city streets.  The junior detectives had deftly followed the trail of the nefarious Bright Bart to America’s largest city.  Adding to the mystery, congressman Wanger was also in New York and had scheduled a press conference for that very afternoon.  Could these strange events be related?  And why hadn’t they heard back from Agent Markos?  “I don’t like it, Chuck,”  Killgore worried, “My instinct tells me there’s something wrong, and that Bright Bart is said to be one cagey menace.  Since Lewdie was otherwise occupied, shouldn’t we have asked some of the other fellows to come with us?”

“I-I banned them all,” Chuck answered softly, absently fingering the worn, ever-present picture of Pammie, his former best girl.

As they awaited further instruction, the Hardlys passed the time by discussing what they might do to assist the beleaguered Wanger.  “I know-I’ll post on my internet web site right now!  I’ll use the magic correlator tool to prove that congressman Wanger’s Twaddle account was hacked!  And it was Bright Bart who did it!” Chuck exclaimed.  The pals ducked into a nearby internet cafe, where, after another few minutes in the men’s room with the correlator tool, Chuck did just that.  “There!” Chuck exclaimed triumphantly, pressing the “enter” key.  “Now, dozens of people will see this and know the truth!  Why, didn’t I solve The Secret of the Sinister Nazi State Flag?”  People will have to listen to us.  In fact, I am going to use my own Twaddle account this instant to brag about my…I mean our success in cracking this case.”

Chuck sent his Twaddle message, then sat for a few moments alternately typing and reading the computer screen.  Suddenly he started, ponytail swinging excitedly.  “Killgore, look at this!  Bright Bart has Twaddled his evil intentions!  Clearly he must have meant this as a private message for his cohorts, but here he reveals his exact plans for this afternoon.  And I, Chuck, have intercepted this message!”

“Good night!  Bart’s plans, and you’ve deciphered them?  You’re a real hero, Chuck!  But, where is Bright Bart going?”

Chuck answered grimly.  “He’s headed straight for Wanger’s press conference.”


Needing to get to the conference in a hurry, Killgore began trying to hail a cab, knowing that Chuck preferred the Muslim drivers to Christians or Jews, who were probably radical.  Unfortunately, no taxicabs were about to stop for he and his unkempt, bloated, ponytailed pal, fondling a girl’s photo while muttering “shrieking harpy…shrieking harpy,” so Killgore suggested the subway.  As the sleuths were carefully studying a colorful wall map of the city’s subway system and plotting their route, Chuck received a cellular telephone call.

“Killgore!  It’s Agent Markos!”


“You Hardlys are late!  Again!” Markos barked through the earpiece, loudly enough for both private investigators to hear.  Chuck began to stammer out an explanation but Markos quickly interrupted.

“It doesn’t matter, Chuck.  The press conference has already ended.  Congressman Wanger has explained that it was he all along who had sent those scandalous photographs.  Bright Bart was innocent from the beginning, and Wanger has apologized to him.”

Chuck was dumbstruck.  “Y-you mean Bright Bart was…”

“Yes, he was only at the press conference to be present for his vindication, not to do harm.  By Gaia, you fellows are slow.”  And with that, Markos rang off.

Soon the intrepid sleuths were dejectedly trudging back to the train station for their return to Culver City, Chuck scowling and staring straight ahead, and Killgore daydreaming of the mating frogs back home.  Suddenly, remembering what Lewdie had told him earlier, Killgore’s face cracked into a smile.  “Say, Chuck, what we need is a new mystery to take our minds off of this caper.  As soon as we get home, what do you say we take on The Mystery of the Stupid American Global Warming Deniers?”

Chuck’s features also brightened.  “Leaping lizards!  I’ll use the correlator tool!”

Keep those tips coming!

The Benevolent Maharaja

Charles loves the power of LGF. He’s created a cult like blog where he’s this wise man who is fighting an evil society. His commentators worship him as some great Guru. when he bans someone, he once in a while likes to let them back. Charles does this as if he’s being benevolent.

So Charles changes her nic name to mock her. Yet he acts as if he did a great deed. Charles really has mental issues.