Final Filthy Lie Assignment: Evil Glenn's Middle School Reading List

With the closing of the Alliance, we'll have no more assignments. No more Precision Guided Humor. No more Filthy Lies.

Today, we present our final Filthy Lie. And it helps explain how Evil Glenn became so ... evil.

September 8, 1971


For our reading today, Mrs. Churchill will read from chapter twelve of "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer" by Mark Twain. To help her tell the story, we hired a celebrity.


Tom had become indifferent to persecution by this time. This phase filled the old lady's heart with consternation. This indifference must be broken up at any cost.


Gotta do somethin' 'bout that Tom!


Now she heard of Pain-killer for the first time. She ordered a lot at once. She tasted it and was filled with gratitude. It was simply fire in a liquid form. She dropped the water treatment and everything else, and pinned her faith to Pain-killer.


Aunt Polly got a plan!


She gave Tom a teaspoonful and watched with the deepest anxiety for the result. Her troubles were instantly at rest, her soul at peace again; for the "indifference" was broken up. The boy could not have shown a wilder, heartier interest, if she had built a fire under him.


Drugs to the rescue!


Tom felt that it was time to wake up; this sort of life might be romantic enough, in his blighted condition, but it was getting to have too little sentiment and too much distracting variety about it.


Tom ain't happy!


So he thought over various plans for relief, and finally hit pon that of professing to be fond of Pain-killer. He asked for it so often that he became a nuisance, and his aunt ended by telling him to help himself and quit bothering her.


Reverse psychology!


If it had been Sid, she would have had no misgivings to alloy her delight; but since it was Tom, she watched the bottle clandestinely. She found that the medicine did really diminish, but it did not occur to her that the boy was mending the health of a crack in the sitting-room floor with it.


Messin' with Aunt Polly!


One day Tom was in the act of dosing the crack when his aunt's yellow cat came along, purring, eying the teaspoon avariciously, and begging for a taste. Tom said:

"Don't ask for it unless you want it, Peter."

But Peter signified that he did want it.


Find a puppy. Put it in a blender. Drink it up!*


What? Puppy? ... Um ... Let's read some more. Where was I? Oh. Here.

Tom said: "You better make sure."

Peter was sure.

"Now you've asked for it, and I'll give it to you, because there ain't anything mean about me; but if you find you don't like it, you mustn't blame anybody but your own self."


Kill a hobo! Make him bleed!*


Uh. Mmmm.

Peter was agreeable. So Tom pried his mouth open and poured down the Pain-killer.


Praise Satan! We worship you Satan!*


(sigh) Peter sprang a couple of yards in the air, and then delivered a war-whoop and set off round and round the room, banging against furniture, upsetting flower-pots, and making general havoc. Next he rose on his hind feet and pranced around, in a frenzy of enjoyment, with his head over his shoulder and his voice proclaiming his unappeasable happiness. Then he went tearing around the house again spreading chaos and destruction in his path.


Dance the Robot! Move and gyrate and express yourself!*


Aunt Polly entered in time to see him throw a few double summersets, deliver a final mighty hurrah, and sail through the open window, carrying the rest of the flower-pots with him. The old lady stood petrified with astonishment, peering over her glasses; ...


Karl Marx! Vladimir Lenin! Mao Tse Tung!*


Um. This isn't working. Children, we're going to stop reading now. I think we'll go ahead and line up for lunch.


Mashed Potatoes. Gravy. And Cranberry Sauce. Waaa-ooooooo-oooooo!

Well, that explains a lot, doesn't it?

INSTAPUNDO DELENDA EST!

Evil Glenn vs. The Brewery

Harvey dialed the phone and waited for the ring.

First, one ring. Then another.

"Darn it," he thought. "No one's home anywhere today."

After the 4th ring, the message came on.

"This is Basil. We're not available at the moment. Leave a name and number, and we'll call you back. Or not. Depends on the mood."

*BEEP*

Harvey drew a breath. He'd left this message all morning. Oh, well. Once more wouldn't matter.

"Basil. It's Harvey. Got this little bit of name dropping at Instapundit:

We visited a microbrewery and talked with Master Brewer Al Kruzen and his apprentice brewer Joey Barbarito

It raised an eyebrow with me. I know darn well that Glenn's beverage of choice doesn't require brewing, so he had no reason to visit Knoxville's Downtown Grill and Brewery.

And yet he did.

Odd, that.

Your Assignment this week is to answer the question:

What was the real reason that Evil Glenn went to visit the Brewerey?

Call me back."

Harvey hung up the phone.

It was two days later when he opened his email and had his answer:

Harvey:

Sorry for the delay in responding. I just missed your message Saturday. The wife and I headed up to Knoxville and scoped it out. You won't believe this. But Evil Glenn is going into a partnership with that brewery. He's making his own beer now:

Evil Glenn - Superlawyer

1985


Thank you coming in today.


My pleasure. Thank you for seeing me.


What can I do for you?


I know you're just out of college and have just started your own law firm, but word has gotten around about you.


Oh, that's quite kind of you. Your reputation, of course, preceeds you. It's an honor to be speaking with you.


Flatterer. Still, we know just how evil and devious you are. And I'd like to ask you a question.


Please, go ahead.


I want to be President.


Of...?


The United States, of course.


Do you think we're ready for a woman President?


No, and that's why I need your help.


So, you want my advice on how to become President?


That's it.


Without any political experience?


Well, yes.


Without any qualifications at all?


Yes.


You married?


Yes, but he's a dumb redneck.


Perfect. Wait until Ronald Reagan is out of office, then run your husband against his successor. Even a dumb redneck will be able to beat whoever replaces Reagan.


Okay, then what?


It's going to be rough. But you've got to stick with him. If he's a redneck, he'll get himself in trouble. Embarrasing trouble. Help him through it.


I can do that.


Then, after he leaves office, you've got to get some political office on your resumé.


Any suggestions on that?


Find a state that will elect someone with no qualifications other than being related to someone famous.


What state would do that?


New York would be perfect. They elected Robert Kennedy when he was nothing but brother of a former President. He wasn't even from New York. Yes, move to New York and run for Senate.


Then what?


As Senator from New York, you won't have to do anything. After four years, unless we're at war, you can get elected President. If we are at war, it'll take eight years.


That's it?


That's my best advice.


Thank you so much. I won't forget this.


We lawyers have to stick together.