Thursday, September 09, 2004

Forensics Apply Even Outside Our Space-Time Continuum

The entities of Fafblog (Fafnir, Giblets and The Medium Lobster), whose collective silly genius I have before praised and who, perhaps more importantly, exist outside the four known dimensions, may indeed be "in temporal flux" but regardless are, I believe, the authors of still another classic internet site.

Now before I go on I must caution: this is only educated conjecture; I can confirm nothing. Also, I am taking a terrible risk in advancing my hypothesis for, as everyone knows, the entities of Fafblog are wrathful and vindictive, and I know that if they wish they could poof me out of this dimension, shooting me through hyperspace to gasp with a fishy breathless mouth my last minutes on some airless moon of Altair-4. Yes, they are that powerful: like Mxyztplk, Q, and the rakshasa all rolled into one, with some extra-cryptic fortune cookies and dashes of Baudrillard and Calvino thrown in for good measure. These are powerful and multiplicitous beings indeed: if they made a live album, it would be called Entities in Ten Cities!

Even so, they are not immune to the detective skills of RETARDOlmes! Now, dear Watson reader, as I light my pipe and administer the seven percent solution, I shall relate to you, occasionally punctuating relevant passages by firing bullets into my wall in the design of "ER" in honour of her majesty, the tale of a once famous internet personality whose identity -- or I should say, identities -- and whereabouts have always been a mystery, until now.

My first -- well, only -- clue was discovered when I came across this post at Fafblog. It is "rosebud", I tell you! I felt an exhilaration in reading it as Oedipus must have felt as he vanquished the sphinx! All the answers were in this one post: the idiosyncratic spelling and grammar of Fafblog was, I always thought, peculiar, but I couldn't quite place where I'd seen it before. But in this post, it was the Fafbloggers' word choice that led to my Archimedal "Eureka!" moment and when I knew that I was destined for eternal fame like that one guy who deduced who'd written Primary Colors.

Now the setting for this post is that Fafnir and Giblets are undertaking a "socratic-style dialogue" through which they'll arrive at "Deeper Truths". Hmmm. I once knew a somewhat Hegelian net personality who was monomaniacal on the dialectic of "skinny vs. fat". His "dialogue", too, was just as exclusively one-sided as Fafnir's. Pow!

FAFNIR: Why hello Giblets! I see you are almost fully immersed in a bowl of ham jello.
GIBLETS: Unnngh... Giblets is in such pain.

Two things, the first being: References to "ham" and "jello" or even "ham jello" abound in this post. Not quite obsessive (Fafnir is no Humbert Humbert gaga over nymphette pork products, or at least I don't think so); more like compulsive. A hiccup to establish setting and context, but a peculiarly insistent hiccup nonetheless. The second: Giblets's intoductory dialogue is onomatopoetic ("Unnngh") which will be repeated throughout. Well, I once knew of an internet personality whose catchphrases involved similar vocabulary ("porkbeast!", "porkfat", "made of pork") and whose "interlocutor" was similarly incoherent ("blaaarg!", "urpagooooooodfaaalkaajaaa!!!!!!!") From now on, in the quoted text I will emphasise these references. Bang!

FAF.: Oh no Giblets! You have not been eatin pork to painful excess again have you?
GIBS.: Giblets does it... GLLGGLL... for national greatness. He stuffs himself with liquid ham... for the glory of the republic!


FAF.: Well lets say he's a big fat man stuck in a mine shaft an there are like a dozen other people trapped in there because the fat man he is just so fat.
GIBS.: This is an improbably fat man we are talkin about.
FAF.: Maybe he has been eatin ham jello. For the glory of the republic.
GIBS.: Then he can stuff off. This is Giblets's ham jello.
FAF.: Anyway the question is should we blow up the fat man if there is no other way to get him out of the mine shaft to free the trapped an starving people inside when we know that blowin up the fat man is cruel murder?
GIBS.: Ha! I'd like to see you try! The explosives'll just make the mine shaft collapse an squish everyone inside.
FAF.: Giiiiblets, you're ruinin my moral dileeeema.
GIBS.: The real solution is to keep the starvin people inside the shaft alive by eatin the fat man. Problem solved.
FAF.: But Giblets what if in killin the fat man you are motivated not by the duty of savin the trapped people but by petty hatred of the fat man?

Notice the "moral dileeeema" involves the question of whether or not to eat a fat person. Also notice the gratuitous fat references. This is very familiar though inverted. I once knew of someone who constantly dramatised the dilema of a fat person eating many normal-sized ones, to immorally satisfy their "beanbag cravings", and often ended a scene (as Fafnir goes on to do in a passage I do not quote) in a cliffhanger fashion: (to paraphrase)"Oh no! please don't eat me porkfat, I can't esc--".

Also, notice in the text the clipped "g"s from the progressive verbs and "d"s from "and". Hmmm. I remember someone who played with tenses and often truncated letters that were rendered silent or near-silent by some accents. Close enough.

Caseclosed. Bang!

Yes, the Fafbloggers, wherever and whatever (animal, vegetable, mineral, unclassifiable) they "are", also were (are? "are"?? Argh, time has no meaning to them, Retardo!) one and the same as Miguel of FCIPH, the famed exorcist of fatasms, and sworn enemy of "Deirdra Babe". Now it is out, and I tremble at the possible repercussions. But perhaps in recognising me as someone who has had his own battles with various "Deirdra Babes" in his time on the internet, from Neosporin to the very new but promising Krempasky, the Fafbloggers/Miguel may be inspired to entreat me with comradery. But then who can be certain, for they are a fickle lot.

So here is my fear: that if one gets the Fafbloggers to say "Miguel" backwards, they will poof out of our dimension and back into the Bizarro world from whence they came. Now we do not want this because they provide great entertainment for us even though they are dangerously powerful and smirk at most known laws of physics (I'm told that Medium Lobster once mindmelded with Stephen Hawking -- the unrelated outtakes were recorded by Fafnir and may be found here -- only to tease the poor physicist into dreaming a pointless theory he has since disowned). Shit! My computer screen flickered, and I swear I saw for an instant this image which said to me balefully "Fafnir is comin to kill you an stuff, porkfatty!".

I admit that I am afraid. Since I have now "outted" them, there is the possiblity of retribution like the aforementioned deportation to Altair-4. But they can do more than that. They could turn me into a penguin, or simply burst through my wall and kill me whether I yelled "Kool-Aid" beforehand or not. Or make me a Kleenex box in Ben Shapiro's bathroom pantry (Please, Fafblog, for the love of God kill me first!)

Please don't tell them I wrote this. But also please don't let anyone trick them into saying any of their names backwards -- or, ultimate no-no, trick them into saying all their names backwards at once, which would result in total particle reversal in the whole universe, making US the anti-matter in an anti-verse but reversing the process for Fafblog, kinda like at the end of that A-ha video, except with like, mushroom clouds and shit.


*As Retardo's last bullet majestically completes the "ER" in his wall, the wall collapses, exposing an anthropomorphic pitcher with the grimacing amalgamated features of Miguel/Fafnir/Giblets/The Medium Lobster (The Quadity!), stomping forth saying "yeah, yeah, yeah" while Retardo cowers....*

**Edit -- Cleaned things up a bit.