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A Filthy Lie: I Was Frank J’s Pimp

Frank J., bane of the PuppyBlender, is celebrating his third year in da blogosphere.

Let’s kick him.

You don’t know the backstory, I’d guess. I mean, you don’t think he got the hot gun-toting babe on his own dime, do ya?

It was me. I was Frank J’s pimp.

Don’t look at me like that…you wanna point fingers? Aim that shit straight at Misha. He started it. Sure, I hopped on the band wagon and whipped the hell out of the horses, but if you want to blame anybody for the whole train wreck that is IMAO, the line starts and stops with the crazy Russian down Texas way.

You wouldn’t believe what we went through trying to get that Florida cracker ready for prime time. The whole “Nuke the Moon” thing? We fed that riff to him…and believe you me, it took one hell of a spoonful of sugar to make that medicine go down. See, Francis had this problem: he’d never kissed a girl. So me and Misha decided the only way the boy would ever have a hope of getting laid was to make him pick a fight with some obscure, geeked out Tennesee law prof we’d seen the previous night on a PBS show. At first we were going to turn him loose on Oliver Willis, but we realized that ham hoovering idiot would likely implode under the weight of his own self-satisfaction, and besides, when your see someone who’s middle name is “Harlan,” you just know that is a far better target for all sorts of scurrilous bullshit.

Lemme tell you: convincing someone you have never met to start an all-out war with someone they have never met, for the sole purpose of meeting chicks, is a hard slog. The Emperor and I spent weeks IMing back and forth with Frank, telling him it was the only way he’d ever get any sweet loving in his life. “Listen, Frank. You start slandering a total stranger and you will become a star. That’s how the Internet works, skippy. You say the most outrageous shit you can imagine and “Bingo!” Watch the hit counter spin like a slot machine.”

He thought we were utterly insane. Which we were, but that’s besides the point. We had decided that the only thing that could continue to drag our asses to our keyboards was to totally twist this mild, milquetoasty kid into a raving nutbag.

So far, the experiment seems to be going quite well…but we never imagined in our wildest dreams Frank would start podcasting…that just seems wrong.

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