The Mask

Hi, I’m RETARDO Montalban of elementropy and I’m here at Sadly, No! to tell you about a wingnut technological breakthrough: The Gnatella Platform.

Actual photo of RETARDO

Here’s a picture of me, that you may pin to your dartboard find suitable for printing and framing, perhaps to give as a present to your grandmother, for am I not the most scrubbed and respectable-looking Progressive you’ve ever seen? Glad you agree!

Anyway, the Gnatella Platform: it is a peer-to-peer wingnutware device by which stories of pundits’ children are traded amongst wingnuts, then injected into their screeds as needed; the children’s privacy obliterated, their future embarassment, total; their future therapy bills, astronomical; the parents’ hackery, boundless.

Lileks, of course, is not only the wingnutware’s inventor, he and daughter ‘Gnat’ are also clients, while Meghan Cox Gurdon liked the product so much she offered to buy the company. The thing is wildly popular. Lately, one of its prime users has been Cathy Seipp, whose soccer mom mendacities regularly pollute the L.A. Times.

But in her latest exploitation she may have gone too far; some readers wrote in to complain:

regardless of whether you had her consent (which, as a minor, she cannot give without your consent – which would be conflicted), your disclosure of your daughter’s personal information was a shocking and unjustifiable invasion of her privacy. I hope it was worth it for you.

To which Cathy tartly if ingenuously replied:

Well, you know, anything for those opinion writing rates.


Mua-ha-ha! Suckers! You fools, I’m not RETARDO Montalban at all, and all this time I’ve been smoking harmless tobacco!

Yes, silly moonbats, I am Jonah Goldberg, and I’ve toiled in disguise at that shitty elementropy blog for three years waiting for my chance at the keys of Sadly, No! I won’t be denied.

Hahahahaha. Oh this is sweet. First I’m gonna take a crowbar to that pantry… oooh! Seb’s stash of Ring Dings and Cheetos! All mine, bitchez! Thitth iwws umm goo thit gulp. Ahh yeah. Ohh, and here’s Brad’s computer chair, so much like Captain Picard’s. Pretty comfy. “Engage”, Number Two! Pbbbbbt. Oh hell yeah, that was a good fart. Hahahaha. Ooooh, there’s Seb’s framed picture of Inspector Clouseau. Why, I’ll just replace it with this autographed picture of my lovely mother. Hah, there’s Gavin’s diploma from Harvard!* Into the trashcan it goes, and in its place is my diploma from Goucher printed on the back of a box of Cocoa Puffs. Now this place feels like home. Except no K-Lo in a penguin outfit swatting my hand with a ruler! Yippie!

Anyway, so, yeah: Suck it, moonbats! Nazis were Liberals and Liberals are Nazis! Juan Cole sucks! Pay no attention to these people, invasive species are only dangerous to the invasive feces in Liberals’ minds! hahaha I crack myself up. And hey, I feel like really starting a flame war with Andrew Northrup — let’s kill some cats! Hahahaha.

Oh, uh, by the way, moonbats, I’m writing a G-File on how conservatives are all cool and stuff but liberals eat poop. Send any tips or info you may have to

*Gavin adds: This is funny in so many ways.


Comments: 16


The first picture actually sorta looks like one of the dudes who supplies me with my smoke. He has a subscription to “High Times”, pin-ups of high-grade weed on his wall and a four-foot-tall bong. I thought guys like him only existed in movies.

The second picture looks like Jonah just busted out into an Ethyl Merman tune.


(The first pic is 100% guaranteed authentic.)


As is the second. I’m serious about taking over. I just had my set of keys copied for Rich and Derb, and Ramesh is gonna bring over tapes of gladiator movies, and then Pod’s bringing a keg and we’re all gonna get drunk and pee in Seb’s pool.


Oh yeah, another product. A plastic sign:

Hello, welcome to our “L.”

Notice there is no “POO” in it.

Please keep it that way.

-the mgmt

That one’s been under development for awhile.


The Cathy Seipp pic- it burns!


Ignoring Jonah’s usual laziness and dishonesty, I have to say I actually agree with him about killing cats. I’d rather do it, though, by reintroducing wolves everywhere. Ranchers can go look up livestock guardian dogs on the universal media netweb.


Hey, maybe you can get linked by ISW too. Way cooler than any of those other guys.


Whoever you are, I love you for mentioning Lileks. Further, you may not have noticed it, but with a little judicious Groganesque comma editing, you provided us with some Swankian adjectival phrases: “future embarassment total”, “therapy bills astronomical”, and “parents’ hackery boundless.” Kudos!


yeah, but can I till go swimming i the shitL?


Don’t try to impersonateme with your crapping tiping imporster.



The second picture looks like Jonah just busted out into an Ethyl Merman tune.

Ethyl Merman? Is that the designer drug that makes everything come up roses?


That guy looks a buddy of mine that allways talks like he’s in slow motion.

“Heeeeeeyyyyyyy duuuuuuuuuuuude. Whhhaaaattt’s upppp?”


KNOCK IT OFF! You only get to touch the vag once, and that was at birth.


Dude, like, how’d you get a picture of my supplier? I thought he wanted to remain incognito, though even his Mom’s cool with it.

And as for the first picture, RETARDO Montalban rocks. That’s a sweetly rolled doobie. If only RM had the connections that my guy — let’s call him JG — has, he could get me some sweet Colombian. P.S. You said you’d return to me that copy of _High Times_ months ago, cobag!


Once “Retardo” becomes Jonah, it! Needs!! More!1! Exclamation !!1! POINTS!!!!1


Goldberg, like his mother, is nothing.

Goldberg, like his wife, is nothing.

Saddam and Gavora. Nothing more.

And the child of Saddam and Gavora, like its parents and its grandparents, will be nothing.

Morning line makes the child of Saddam and Gavora a rapist and Duke University lacrosse player somewhere around 2021.


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