Tinselman

The Odious Mini-Wikis

Bad news, citizens! While Wilmey and Angelina were wasting my precious time with news of their "performance", the wikipedians have not rested one moment. And thanks to the loyal spy work of patriotic citizen, Paula Deen, we now know exactly what they're up to!

I want all of you to know: citizen Deen gave her life for this story – she expired soon after returning from the field. We will no longer hear the wandering stories of her sons, Bobby and Jamie, nor will we ever again taste her sweet, southern home cooking.

<lusty cheers and all-around drunken behavior from the Republic of Tinselman masses>

Instead, we will taste revenge!!! Argh!!!

<lusty cheers and all-around drunken behavior from the Republic of Tinselman masses>

I can't exactly quote Deen, because it even took us awhile to figure out what the hell she was jabbering on about. From the best we could tell, it kind of goes like this: the wikipedians have created a clandestine agency and have been planning an attack against the Republic of Tinselman for a long time. Their plan is pure genius! They've bred an army of what they call the mini-wikis: miniature, hideously monstrous, virtually indestructible beings which will invade our dearest Republic of Tinselman, whilst riding on miniature, super-powered motorcycles (which are engineered out of recycled wristwatch parts).

So the question remains: how do we fight back? How does a fledgling nation of brave souls defend and overcome the hordes of depraved wikipedians (and their odious mini-wikis)?

In an earlier post, Minister Ren had an inspired idea (and oh, how I wish it were my own own!): replace the emblem of the wikipedia federation with something that will drive them all absolutely bonkers. Responding to Ren's idea, citizen Akiyoshki seems to have come up with the perfect thing (though he died doing it):

At the above miniaturized size, our newly re-designed wikipedia emblem is perfectly harmless, but, at actual size, it can send any weak-minded being into convulsive fits, followed by total insanity (or death) in a matter of only seconds. I warn you, do not enlarge the image... unless you think you can handle it.

So we all agree it's a really great logo, right?... but we've still got an enormous problem: we have no idea how to sneak our emblem onto the wikipedia site.

And even now, the odious mini-wikis are approaching our boarders! We must do something! Quickly!...

The Great Khan Opens

Dear citizens of the Republic, I was awakened by a call from our most heroic minister of all, Super Gopher Boy Wilmey. "Yo... Khan," he said, "Me and the mother are hanging at the Great Khan, and we're totally diggin' it! It's all so wow-magical! Woah-hey!!! What I'm about to tell you, baby, is gonna totally going to blow your frickin' frackin' mind! Man-dude!"

"The mother?" I asked. It was four in the morning and I'd been up the previous night until the wee hours watching entertaining and informative television programs (like The Jeffersons and Full House).

"Yeah, you know, the mother of the Republic: Angelina. And she's got a new squeeze now; he's here too, baby, but I can't tell you about that, because it's still sort of hush-hush and, of course, it's all part of the performance, ya know?" And of course I didn't know. So it really bugged me when he and Angelina began giggling and giggling (in that high-pitched giggling voice, which is especially annoying).

I sat up and wiped my eyes. "What's going on over there with you two?! What performance?! I swear, Wilmey... I swear, I'm gonna--!" but I couldn't think of anything. And besides, I suddenly had a much better idea...

I ripped the entire phone right off the wall and I stuffed it with loads of M-80's (I had to use a hammer to crush as many of them in there as humanly possible). Then I put the phone inside my television set. How absolutely ingenious! Ah... I finally felt a bit of relief...

Or so I thought. Ten minutes later, my cell phone rang... I'd forgotten about my cell phone. And it was Wilmey! His first words? "Wait! Don't hang up! This is mega-totally-tinselistically important! You gotta hear it!" So I waited...

"Great," he said, "Remember From Emergence to Inferno? This is going to be so much better! And it's live! A live performance! Get it? In fact, we've even built an exclusive theater called the 'Great Khan'... named after you of course, and I think we're really going to pack 'em in on this one. I'm talking droves and droves of loyal citizens of the Republic!""

"Named after me?" I thought maybe he'd gotten something wrong. But after this, he ended up getting so excited about their "secret project" that he suddenly transformed into his gopher-boy form, and I couldn't get a thing out of him: all he could do was make useless grunting sounds.

Fortunately, Angelina took the phone and the whole story became clear. They basic matter of their play will deal with the ongoing war between the Republic of Tinselman and wikipedia (our greatest enemies). It is being written by none other than Angelina Jolie and Super Gopher Boy Wilmey, and will star Angelina, Wilmey, and another chosen but, as of yet, unannounced actor. As Angelina said to me, "We want this other actor's presence to be, not just a surprise, but almost something of a downright shock." She said, "When I first met him – when I looked into his eyes – something wonderful happened – something beyond wow-magicalness; I not only knew he was the one for part, I also knew he was the one for me: more than Brad, more than Billy Bob: there's such a deepness, a thoughtfulness; he is the very essence of manliness and raw sexuality (even though he's a bit chubby around the edges... but we'll have to work on that)."

I obviously wanted to meet this powerhouse of a human being, but it seems he's recently buried himself deep below the surface of the earth, where he's now in the delicate pupa stage of transformation (how curious). Fortunately this should all be over in another week or two... just in time for opening night!

"Listen Angelina," I said, trying to encourage her, "I totally appreciate your spirit and so on and blah blah blah, but I'm the Khan, and what I say goes, and right now we have some serious war mongering--"

Too late... there was a dial tone on the other end.

Oh well... they've got me curious anyway. And they did name the theater after me.

• Previous Republic of Tinselman posts

I Smell War... Again!

Dearest people of the Repulbic (of Tinselman)... warning! Strange things are afoot. Just the other day, this video was sent to us (and by "us", I'm simply refering to my own Khanly amazingness, which is probably as freakishly great as Obiwan, or Gandolf the white, in the second Lord of the Rings movie, when you first see him, and he's glowing like a white, glowing god, and everyone has to blind their eyes – the mere sight of him is awe-inspiring... that's how tinselistic wow-magical I've become! In fact, I even speak with a deeper voice! Downright thunderous! And grown men faint when I pass! I am the Tinselkhan!)

So anyway, an anonymous source sent this video to me and, of course, my first reaction was uncontrolled laughter. What a great prank to play; I wish I'd thought of it myself! I was relaxed and happy, until I realized that the "offended" car was my own!... parked directly in front of our RoP London embassy building.

I can only come to one conclusion. This direct attack on my car was by none other than our greatest and most longstanding enemy: the wikipedians. Have you read their entry on fireworks?!... it makes me want to puke! Who else would be equipped for such an attack?! They have struck at the heart of our Republic (I really loved that car... I mean, it was like zen-and-the-art-of-car type of love... It only had 13,000 miles on it, and I was about to install a new sound system and everything. Quad speakers, the works, so I guess I saved some dough on the sound system, but still, I'm pretty pissed about the car itself).

So we're striking back. I'm not sure how. We will be subtle. We will be move like a graceful dancer (or many of them, moving together, gracefully), and we will strike. But not with fireworks. (anyone have any good ideas?)

By the way, we won the war against the Museum of Dust! I'm not sure what happened, but I think, after they chased us into space, they made a wrong turn or something, and got lost. That pretty much spelled their demise: it wasn't long before they were captured by aliens and placed into jars of formaldehyde!... (at last we see their true forms!)

Note: Do not believe what you read on their website. It is full of misinformation and lies!

Multidimensional Khan

Citizens of the Republic of Tinselman,

A few months ago, a dedicated "away team" of thrill seeking adventurers devoted themselves a great cause: seeking out our lost Khan! This didn't go so well. Running out of fuel and and crashing their ship wasn't the worst; things really took a downward turn when their intrepid leader, William Shatner, shriveled up into a fetal position and began sucking his thumb.

But now we can finally ignore them! We have at last discovered the precise location of our great and illustrious Khan (may he forever be surrounded by his five celestial Khanettes). It turns out, we were altogether looking in the wrong place! He's somehow moved into alternate dimension, and, in the process, he has changed form and become a higher being. Transcended! But we've been lucky enough to capture his image (above).

Khan, we worship you. We bow before your throne, and before the angelic beauty of the Khanettes. Guide us against our enemies. You are our rock! Our hope! Our multidimensional mustached King of beauty and light!

photo © 2006 by mikerosebery

Manuscript of the Republic

Click image to enlarge

If we, of the Republic of Tinselman, had our way, our capital city would be housed in a gigantic spherical structure, where plaster dinosaurs kept vigilant watch alongside boulevards of dripstone.

But alas, our hope for such greatness were dashed to pieces, when our first attempt at a city was set ablaze, and our Saviour Khan vanished beyond the far reaches of the galaxy. Now, in his absence, we are but left to dream.

And so, to aid us in our dreams, we turn to the Journal of Ride Theory Omnibus. Why? Because it's utterly cool and freakin' amazing! In short, it'll blow your mind. It's nothing less than a Manual to Tinselistic Wow-Magicical! But... bear in mind, we must do everything possible to keep this manuscript out of the hands of our enemies! It will unquestionably stretch their imaginations into unknown territory. It may give them the power to finally destroy us.

Images from Journal of Ride Theory Omnibus, Edited by Dan Howland. Copyright©2004 Ride Theory Press.

Notes From Mount St. Tinsel

War With the Museum

Left: Museum of Dust, Right: Republic of Tinselman

Well Citizens, just when our scars are beginning to heal from our Hell in a Handbasket ordeal, along comes cog to pour salt in our wounds. Or should I say, pour ink over our linen? Or should I say, squirt ink all into our faces and blind us, like prey, while she slowly moves in for the kill, her mouth dripping, hungry for human flesh?

Yes, I'm talking about Cog of the Museum of Dust, with whom we've held correspondance for some time. Recently Cog has made the most disturbing accusations aimed at our Republic, many aimed directly toward your illustrious Khan's (and that's me) own powers of observation! And I tried to be nice, folks. Even though I was a firey ball of Khanish fury! I tried to be nice as I wrote her a letter which addressed all her sickening accusations! Here is that letter (slightly edited to shorten):

Dearest Cog,

Why deny what you know to be true? Are you frightened? I understand. We all understand. However, I think it's time to face the music and address the real issues. Namely, cephalopods don't have large torsos.

I am absolutely positive that the Inky we encountered was no squid. He was a mutated spider... one who delights in dining on the flesh of humans. I apologize if this comes as a shock to you. I assure you, it came as quite a shock to us.

Therefore, friend Cog, I am frankly a bit disturbed about many of the false claims you've made. You not only have accused me of dwelling obsessively on my own fate, you also have accused me of attempting to deflect suspicion from myself by creating an elaborate "alien invasion" ruse. All your false accusations almost make me wonder if you are the anonymous mastermind force behind the Inky that captured us! Perhaps you didn't loose Inky at all... perhaps you sent him on this hair-brained mission to attack us!

The Republic of Tinselman is a peaceful nation. But unless these violent accusations are rescinded (and then you publically say you're sorry), we will have to go after you with guns blazing. We will revoke your citizenship and invade the Museum of Dust.

Most sincerely,
Your Illustrious Khan

As you can plainly see, at this early point I was still giving The Museum of Dust a chance to eat humble pie. But no. Cog was too proud to stoop to that, and instead she kicked our Sponge Cat inspectors out of The Museum of Dust and formed an open aliance with the U.S. aliens!

It's unacceptable! Unacceptable! She had no right to kick our inspectors out!

But that's not all. We now have intelligence of an even more upsetting nature. As of last week I believed that Cog might be somehow a guiding force behind Inky. Our latest intelligence proves to us, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Cog is not only the mastermind force behind Inky... Cog is Inky. Cog herself IS Octobrain!... the mastermind behind the invasion!

Therefore citizens, I come to you declare war against Cog and her cohorts at the Museum of Dust. Which is really just a continuation of our war against the U.S.. And Wikipedia. And the N.S.K.. Why do we fight? For world peace! (And for Super Gopher Boy Wilmey)

Yeah, that's right. You may have not noticed but our Tinselistic hero, Super Gopher Boy Wilmey, has disapeared! Our I was just about to start the global search when I found him in the most unexpected place... Held hostage!

It's another one of Cog's tricks... damn her! Of course Cog disguises the photo by calling it a "Valley Pocket Gopher" but I'd know that pout anywhere (poor Wilmey). Gopher Boy it is, imprisoned by the Museum of Dust (though at least he looks well fed).

Well, not that there's much of anything we can do about it – we've just got so much going on right now – but at least our hearts go out to Gopher Boy!

Lastly, I thought you'd all enjoy this wonderful little photo. That's me in the center and co-mayors Brad and Angelina on both sides (the paparazzi are always after us). Of all things, I found it on the Museum of Dust blog... if she puts things like this on her blog she may have some trouble raising an military!

User comment: Minister Danxia just sent me this message:

With respect - O Khan! - but that the fellow between Brad and Angelina is, unmistakably, Rupert Murdoch (unless of course you are wearing a Rupey costume?) Thought I should raise this important issue ASAP.

Obviously, Danxia is dead wrong. It doesn't look anything like Rupey! And anyway... why would Rupey be hanging with my celebrities?! What would he be doing with his arm around Angelina... the Mother of the Republic!

I don't believe it. It must be me.

Shamed

Shocking news, citizens! I was just notified that the following message appeared on the Republic of Tinselman entry:

This article needs to be expanded. Though short, this article has some potential. Please expand into a full article. If this page is not expanded in 30 days, it may become a candidate for deletion.

After smashing my coffee cup against the wall – and oh, it is a good thing no one was there to see this tremendous anger – the anger of a Khan! – but after I finally settled down, I realized that, yeah... our Uncyclopedia entry might be a bit thin. There's just not much there. And after all we've been through! The invasion, Wilmey, megophias megophias, Rupey and then that hideous Inky creature! There's not even a mention of a "Khan".

Will the page be deleted? Probably so. And we will be further shamed. I leave that up to you... the citizens of this Republic. So edit away (and make this Republic proud)!

Uber-Brain Inky Madness

left to right: Gopher Boy Wilmey, Brad Pitt (after disfiguring surgery), Angelina, thug 1, Inky, thug 2

Hell in a Handbasket, Part 3 – Octobrain

We've got problems, citizens. Recently I recieved a note from Cog, a concerned citizen, a portion of which went as followed:

My spider (also Minister of Defense at Museum of Dust) has been missing for some time. I've instigated a world-wide web search for him but no luck to date.

Inky very much enjoys travel in imaginary countries and has a penchant for uncalled-for violence and unnecessary mayhem. RoT seems like the perfect haven for him.

So, if you've seen my spider please tell him we need him -- I'm beside myself, the sponge-cats are restive and the staff are revolting.

IMPORTANT. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO CAPTURE, COERCE OR TAMPER WITH THE SPIDER.

He has a large arsenal,  many arms, and a very short temper.

Typically I'd read something like this with a good deal of skepticism. Not this time. Instead I felt a knot forming in the pit of my stomach and, almost immediately, I recalled what I had been trying for so long to forget. Octobrain!

Yes, of course I'm talking about the final episode of Hell in Handbasket and our harrowing escape from the U.S. aliens. To be quite honest, I can't bear to go into all the details. But I can certainly fill you in on some of the more interesting parts!

For example, I'm almost certain we did see Inky. That's him above, between those two alien thugs. I like this shot because I managed to capture everyone (except me).

Super Gopher Boy Wilmey completely lived up to his name! That's him on the left, taken immediately after he burst through the doors and rescued me and Angelina. Wow... what a powerhouse! (By the way, he didn't want me to take his photo, but I said it was history in the making... plus I wanted it for the blog).

Oh yeah... this is that Octobrain jerk. That's what we all called him: Octobrain. But the thugs called him "Dr. Uber-Brain" or just plain "Inky". As you can see, he's not exactly a spider but I'm still almost certain that this is the Inky that Cog lost... in a bloated sort of way. As Cog explained to me, "his defining feature is his beautiful eyes... once seen, never forgotten." I can't think of a more apt description of Octobrain. He practically hyptonized with his powerful stare and he seemed to have no trouble hypnotizing Brad (Pitt).

Oh this Octobrain was hideous. And I'm not just talking physically... he seem to so long ago have lost all semblance of a soul. You know the type: Darth Vaderish. Maybe worse... Emperor Palpatine-ish! Except Emperor Palpatine didn't live in a spherical tank and eat humans for dinner! Worst of all (and I'm sure Cog will be bitterly disapointed to hear this) Octobrain was the mastermind behind the U.S. alien invasion! It was all his planning! His idea! Which leads one to wonder what other U.S. invasions he's planned.

Gopher Boy finally got fed up and made a courageous (but rather foolhardy) attempt to smash Octobrain's glass globe. Unfortunately he only achieved a sore hand before he was beat to a bluddy pulp by the nearest thug. But the distraction did provide us with our means of escape!

To make a long story short, we eventually found an handy escape pod. It was very cool... just like Star Wars.

At the end of the day, I don't think we're any better off. Inky is still out there and we're still at war. Megophias Megophias! Resist the Invasion! Long live the Republic! Long Live the Khan! (me)

Sincerely,
Your illustrious Khan

• More about Inky

Outrage in the Republic

Dear proud and loyal citizens. I was not prepared for this onslaught. When M.O.D.s failed in their attempt to provide the Republic of Tinselman with a simple uniform, I stepped up to the plate and designed the uniform myself... with the purest of intentions. I thought my citizens would rejoice. Instead you hurl accusations at me! Yes... you, my loyal citizens! You accuse your Khan!

You were outraged. And now I have responded... the uniforms must be available to all citizens. New two-color versions  have now been created... at low prices ($19.80). And I've lowered the price of the three-color versions (w/silver letters) to about as low as they will possibly go ($24.80).

Visit the Tinselwear store to take a look.

Sincerely,
Your Khan

Under the Ever-Evolving Tinselman Rainbow

Here me, my dear Citizens! Our Illustrious Magnanimous Khan (me) makes a bold proclamation to all! It is time for the Republic of Tinselman to grow, to change, to evolve (and finally get off this blog). We must no longer be a lone voice, crying in the wilderness! We must no longer be a lonely Khan! It is time for citizens to take the power into their own hands, regardless of the consequences! This is a nation! Power to our people!

And I'm absolutely thrilled to say that Super Gopher Boy Wilmey has recently been the first minister (and loyal citizen) to heed the call and spontaneously create his own Republic of Tinselman web adjunct.

I warn you: it's his own weird brand of the Republic (and it's history) but it's more than anyone else has done! So... bravo Wilmey! Much more of this and we'll soon defeat our greatest enemy, Wikipedia!

Note: If you want to make contributions to Wilmey's website, just write him an email.

Test Your Tinselman Loyalty

Proud citizens! Have you dedicated yourself to the eradication of our various enemies? Have you pledged your loyalty to our great and all-powerful Khan? Do you worship the image and all-consuming power of Megophias Megophias (may it live forever)?

If so, then now's your chance to show your true Tinselman colors with the Official Republic of Tinselman Uniform! A must-have for any serious citizen (Wilmey already ordered up three dozen!).

An added bonus: the shirts are highly attractive, bordering on sexy. That tinsel-colored lettering works like a magnet

By popular demand, Bugfish t-shirts are also for sale. Enjoy it all at the Tinselwear store!

Note: These shirts are made by American Apparel and, yes, they're a bit more expensive then many of the cheaper brands made in sweatshops around the world. However, I think you'll be pleased to find that the American Apparel shirts are also of a much higher quality: they look fantastic and they refuse to wear out.

Also... please take a photo of yourself in one of these shirts (or both of them). I'll blog you!

No Cameras/No Recorders

Just another reminder... the admission into the Republic of Tinselman is FREE!

Hell in a Handbasket, Part 2 – The Abduction

Sorry for the delay folks. It all began, as I started to explain in my Stratego post, with that bright flash. Suddenly I was out like a light. The next thing I remembered, I was opening my eyes (after how long, I didn't know) to an indescribable sense of alertness. One thing was clear: I'd been drugged awake. The first thing I saw was a masked, aproned figure, wearing Darth Vader gloves and holding prongs over a strange machine-thing.

For whatever reason, it didn't occur to me that this was anything other than a silly Republic of Tinselman prank and, with that mask on, I just assumed it was Wilmey, still smarting over his lost game of Stratego.

"Okay already!" I said, "Sheesh, Wilmey! I always knew you were a little nuts, but you win already! Ha, ha! This is all really funny. But I'll forfeit my victory, if that's what this is all about!"

The reaction was not what I expected. He just stared at me for a bit and, with a screachy, German accent said, "Yah, I know you vill."

As he was laughing away like a mad man, I noticed a number of things all at once. First, I was strapped to a big metal table and couldn't move a muscle. Second, Angelina was on the table next to me and was still soundly asleep. Third, there were two of these U.S. alien-thug monsters standing in the corner. Eek! This was not one of Wilmey's cute little pranks! I'd been abducted by the U.S. spacemen and was now inside one of their flying saucers!

Of course my immediate thought was that I, the Khan, would receive some sort of royal immunity. I mean, what could really be the worst that could go wrong? Maybe I'd be banished to a desert island? It was almost a pleasant thought! I began pondering what type of island it might be! Maybe there'd be an old castle there. And maybe black sand beaches, covered with forests of wind-bent palms! And high-speed internet and fed-ex delivery.

I was lost in these delightful thoughts when suddenly I began to choke on my own spittle. A good deal of embarrassing coughing and slobbering ensued. This seemingly spontaneous reaction had been provoked by a red and yellow sign I'd just noticed that read, "Danger, High Radiation Area"!

My God! The mask! The protection! The tongs! The Darth Vader gloves! Suddenly it all made sense! And Angelina and I were being bombarded by who knows what!

Now carrying a small steel canister in a pair of tongs, the masked man walked toward the sleeping Angelina, saying, "Ve vill take care of your friend and zen ve vill take care of you."

"That's not a real accent is it?!" I protested, "You're just pretending to be that guy in Raiders of the Lost Ark!"

I paused, waiting to observe the impact of my accusation.

"Vell, you just pretend to be ze Khan... a Khan of stupid fake country! So ve pee on you!"

And I have to admit, that really stung. I wanted to say something that put him in his place... because no one talks to The Khan like that! But my mind was blank... that whole German accent thing was muddling my brain (or maybe it was just the high levels of radiation).

As he brought the cylinder closer, a cold steam fell away from it. It was scary. He carried it over to Angelina's side, unscrewed at a halfway point and, from the cold center of it, he lifted out a small steel syringe. Holding this ever so gingerly, he injected it into her arm.

"No!" I screamed "What are you doing to the Mother of the Republic! What are you injecting into her!" As if in answer, he switched on a small and rather antiquated monitor. At first the image was blurry and I could make nothing of it. But then I saw it clearly: the computerized chip planted beside her lungs! I shivered.

"Ve put ze isotope in for nazing but fun! Ha! Ve do za same to you already! Ve put our superized computer chip in you dayz ago. He he. You're all completely screwed... 'Khan.' Ha!"

"Hey," I yelled, and I felt a fury growing in me like the mounting fury of a lightning fireball caught in a room of mirrors, "You can't put chips in us! And what about the Geneva conventions? I swear we'll get you, you weirdo alien freaks!"

They just laughed. But it didn't matter. Because at that very moment Super-Gopher-Boy Wilmey burst through the door with none other than Brad (Pitt). They had no weapons but they had their raw and unfettered courage and I've never been so proud in my entire life!

I'll continue later with the rest of our harrowing story. And I have to say, after of all this, I think it's sad that we all continue to suffer. Not only has the outright trauma caused Brad and Angelina to start sleeping in seperate bedrooms but we also continued to be plagued by our many enemies on all fronts.

Till next time, I continued to be faithfully yours,
The Khan

Stay tuned for: Hell in a Handbasket, Part 3 – Octobrain

• The Khan Rants
• Hell in a Handbasket, Part 1 – Stratego
• Invader From the U.S.

All Previous Republic of Tinselman posts

The Khan Rants

Greetings to you again, my fair and loyal citizens.

Has the entire world lost its mind? I'm broken up inside, people. We have a viable Republic! With a capital "R"! We have a war (hell, we've had a couple of wars)! And we have official Republic of Tinselman celebrities, and stamps, flags, ministers, official seals, and on and on and on it goes... and still we're not officially "recognized". What gives? I'll tell you what gives... Those pea-brains (who refuse to recognize us) can't grasp the concept of a "Republic without borders"... a virtual Republic. They can't understand the beauty of a working Republic and loyal citizenry, all within the context of the web!

Sorry for such a sour note. I don't mean to getya down. I know I'm supposed to be Mr. Happy-happy-happy but hell, sometimes it just hurts inside and I gotta let it out. And besides, it's not so easy knowing you've just been abducted by weirdo U.S. military-alien-monsters. And knowing you've got some freaky hi-tech chips planted in your chest... that's not helping anything either!

Yes folks, that image up there is an x-ray of my chest. And if those mysterious orange circuits don't make you boiling hoping mad then you must be some sort of pervert sicko!

Get angry, citizens. Get furiously angrily furious! We have a struggle! We have a great and wonderful cause! We must use our shared Tinselmaniacal passion to fight back! And we will win! We will be recognized! The Republic of Tinselman will fulfill it's destiny!

Kind Regards,
The Khan

Hell in a Handbasket, Part 2 – The Abduction... coming soon

Hell in a Handbasket, Part 1 – Stratego

I am so mad! I am firey hot mad as as a white-hot-glowing-death-star-laser-beam-of-death mad! Everything has gone to hell in handbasket! Everything! The Republic of Tinselman is crumbling beneath our tiny little Tinselistic feet! Are we completely lost? Like little lost children, out on an ocean of... a place where people tend to get lost.

Harken unto me. Much has happened my precious citizens. Much has gone wrong.

In short, our uniforms still aren't ready, I got a damn alien chip planted in my chest, Brad and Angelina are no longer sleeping together, and Wikipedia is run by a bunch of egomaniacs that can't seem to grasp the larger picture!

Yes, it's true... the uniforms still aren't ready for our continuing war with the United States of America. As you probably already know, M.O.D.S. (otherwise known as Mothers of Dress & Safety) utterly blew it. So I took over and here's the insignia I designed for each shirt: (click to enlarge)

Looks pretty good, doesn't it? But there's a gigantimungo problem... Rupey (Rubert Murdoch), was going to line up the funds for the uniforms' bullet proof padding and, without that padding, the uniforms are pretty much useless. Rupey's response to this?... "Shortages of armor don't stem from a lack of money but are a matter of physics. The manufacturers of add-on armor are producing it as fast as humanly possible. You go to war with the Army you have, not the Army you might want or wish to have."

But that's just the beginning of our problems! There was also the abduction. Which, I can assure you, was one of the most terrifying moments of my life.

It all started rather suddenly. Wilmey and I were were playing Stratego. He was beginning to get a bit cocky so I threw a few lit fire-crackers onto the board and claimed immediate victory (because the Khan must always win)! While he was still nursing his burnt fingers, Brad and Angelina walked in. That's right, citizens... none other than the Snake and the Roach! And need I remind you why we (figuratively) cast them out amoung the very lowest of the creeping, crawling beasts? Because they abandoned us in the time of our greatest need (immediately before the U.S. attacked)!

Angelina spoke first: "Khan Robyn, we've been so broken up over this! Please take us back! What we did was totally twisted! And wrong. I don't know what got into us! This whole Republic of Tinselman thing is our life! There must be a way to make it up to everyone... and repay the Republic for what we've done!"

"Stop it!" I yelled. "Just don't even say these things to me! You Hollywood creeps. How could you have done this to us? You lowly worms! You un-tinselistic ugly person (even though you are physically quite attractive)! You were the mother of the Republic! They trusted you! Wilmey trusted you! Here amongst us, you were something more than glamor and pouty lips... and now––"

This is as far as our conversation got. There was suddenly a flash. Everything went black and I remembered no more.

I'm tired of even writing this. The subject wears me. I'll continue the story when my Khan-like energy has returned.

Sincerely,
The Khan

(Stay tuned for Hell in a Handbasket, Part 2 – The Abduction)

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Report From the Field 3

Report from: Emanuel, Lead Designer of M.O.D.S.

Hi darlings! Well, as you know, we're working our fingers to the bone trying to design a little something for the Republic of Tinselman battling... and oh, it sounds so delightful. And I think we've come up with the most delicious little outfits. You're going to just love them. Of course nothing is actually finished yet; we've only mocked up an idea or two... I like to call them "sketches." But some of them give me goosebumbs... they're just so original. So "out there," if you know what I mean.

Those first little outfits up above were inspired by our hero, Super Gopher-Boy Wilmey. And he sounds like such a man! The red hair... everything, darling. We just went crazy with it. We think it completely works for your little fighter-people, men, women... and it is simply wow!

Oh, and look at this delightful little morsel. I could munch it down whole! We call it the Roller Coaster. And who knows... it may work as camouflage!

This precious thing I did myself. Yum! It's called Albino Faun. I can see all of you dashing and dancing around in these... oh it will be just scrumptious (you know that don't you)?

Ah... I'm in ecstasy! Enraptured! Bliss, bliss, bliss! And I'm sure the wheel will end up being functional in some way or another. But you must admit, it's simply delicious!

This is one of our camouflage attempts. Need I say more?

And finally, we end on one of my favorite, most extraordinary designs. From the headpiece, a flowing sheer cloth drapes the body – a cloth which can change colors according to mood! What's more, eating utensils can be hung around the rim of the cloth. It's smashing, darling, simply smashing.

They're all so mouthwatering; I simply can't choose. I want to dig my teeth into all of them! Then spit them out and eat them again! Oh, I just can't wait for you to choose so we can start the manufactoring process for the Republic of Tinselman Army!

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Report From the Field 2

Report from: Mark

I was at home, sweeping the fireplace, on the night of the 3rd Annual Tinselgala Costume Party. Suddenly I heard a deafening sucking-noise coming from outside, and rushed to the window. Out in the streets, everything from citizens to trees to Wienermobiles was being uprooted and sucked up into the sky. Meanwhile, travelling in the opposite direction, enormous green (and seemingly performance-enhanced) monsters were falling down from the sky.

I was just wondering if one of them would collide with a Weinermobile, when there was a knock on the door. A kind old lady with 'M.O.D.S.' hand-embroidered on her blazer stood at my doorstep, carrying a bundle of clothes.

"Are you my fairy godmother?" I asked.

"Hurry, put these on!" she urged, shoving the bundle into my arms before she too was suddenly sucked skywards.

Unfortunately I never got to see, let alone try on, my new uniform. . . . the suction had temporarily stopped, and with a loud thud one of the green monsters landed right in my front garden. When I saw the stars-and-stripes insignia on his chest, my first thought was NSK - but no! It was the US!!

"This is a raid!" came the loudspeaker. The flag on the monster's chest opened up, and legions of soldiers poured out onto the lawn. I closed the door, just as it was being blasted off its hinges, and ran upstairs.

"Megophias, Megophias, we know you're in there!" shouted one of the soldiers, first in American English, then in Arabic.

I peered round the corner at the top of the stairs, and the scene before me sent a shiver of familiarity down my spine. Where had I seen all this before? And then I realised - they were re-enacting, down to the last detail, page three hundred and sixty-six of the 2003 novel 'Absolute Friends' by British author John LeCarre.

I'm writing this from my attic. Those folks downstairs are still on the rampage. The worst part is, I never got to see the Official Uniform of the Republic of Tinselman. Can anyone help?

Report From the Field

Report from: Super Gopher-Boy Wilmey, 

During the Republic of Tinselman battle, I was able to follow the lead U.S. Saucer to its refueling depot, where it was undergoing ad-hoc repairs from some of the damage it had taken... needless to say, I was able to make a shocking discovery.

The US is constructing a doomsday weapon. Apparently they are currently building an eleventeen (what?) and a half foot tall robotic Gillian Anderson (or the "Mecha Gi-An" as I call it), each of which are capable of atomic death rays from her eyeballs.

The Mecha Gi-An is also capable of flight, with its awesome turbo booster booty, super cold freeze blasters and ultra stealthy stigium cloaking device.

Three RoT who had traveled with me were stomped to death by one of the Mecha Gi-An, simply because they were so awestruck by her awesome power... that, and the fact that the US seems to have dressed the robotic Gillian Anderson in tight leather spandex and matching thong somber and uncomfortably modest Victorian garb!

This Mecha Gi-An is truly a fully armed and operational battle station. We're all screwed!

Read All About It!

Loyal citizens of the Republic of Tinselman, I regret to inform you that the Republic has been invaded. By the United States of America!

They struck last night, during the 3rd Annual Tinselgala Costume Party. And I've got to say... wow! What an event! All the citizens together in their most colorful and imaginative ensembles – I've rarely seen anything like it. Everyone who's anyone was there. I (the Khan) came dressed as one of our greatest celebrity-enemies, The Snake (otherwise known as that swine who played Kirk on Star Trek). Oozing glamor and excitement, our celebrity co-mayors Brad and Angelina stopped by, dressed as a couple of machine-gun toting spies from some flick they starred in. Bryan William Jones shocked everyone by arriving as an entire heard of Water Buffulo! But of course the prize for Best Costume was awarded to Dr. Anthonid Oudemans for his life-sized, working model of the great sea-serpent Megophias Megophias (and you should have seen that thing krumping!).

But I think the real hit of the evening was Wilmey. His costume was subtle but brilliant! Apparently he'd had his two front teeth surgically widened and extended to the bottom of his chin and underneath his torn clothes we could plainly see thick hair (or fur) growing from his skin. But whenever we asked him what he was dressed as, his only reply was to laugh bitterly and say, "The experiment, damit! Everything's been lost! All these years living with those gophers... and for what?! Nothing, I tell you, nothing!" And if any of us happened to mention his "fur," he'd react by pulling his collar tightly around his neck, biting rapidly with his two front teeth and glancing suspiciously from person to person. Of course Wilmey played this part perfectly, never letting up, not for one instant, so that by the end of the night he had us all rolling on the ground.

Our newest minster, Rupert Murdoch showed up (as himself), for a bit of heavy duty RoT politicking. And this guy isn't as stiff as he looks! You wouldn't believe the things he told me! Most of them are Republic Secrets but I can tell you this: he does a surprisingly good Sinatra imatation. And in the middle of his chest he has a tattoo of all three Bee Gees, bare-chested and dressed in gleaming white slacks. Below them dances a strapping young John Travolta. Kinda weird. Anyway, far better than that, he's a huge fan of the Republic of Tinselman! He and I got along famously. In fact, he offered to pay for the entire night's event. How could I refuse?

Rupey and I were having a power talk when IT happened. Wilmey went bizzerk. He stood on the nearest table, looked toward the sky and screamed, "They're coming!" We all looked up and saw an empty night sky. When we looked back down, we saw Wilmey's clothes lying around Wilmey's feet. Except it wasn't quite Wilmey anymore. It was this:

One person said, "It's a rodent!"

Another: "It's a warrior!"

But it was Rupey who stood up and declared, "It's Super Gopher-Boy Wilmey!"

And everyone errupted into cheers. That is, everyone but Brad and Angelina. They split (dropping their guns on the way out). Because they had just spotted the flying saucers hoovering down out of the darkness above.

We all looked up again. I set my laser to stun, Bryan William Jones prodded the herd to readiness, Oudemans revved up his sea-serpent for attack, Rupey was already foaming at the mouth and Super Gopher-Boy Wilmey seemed more prepared than the rest of us combined.

"Attention Citizens of the Republic of Tinselman," came the voice over the loudspeaker, "we are the Outer Space Invading Armies of the United States and we are here to destroy you!"

The citizens shook with fear. But their Khan was there to clear things up for them. I stepped forward and said, "I don't quite get it!"

"Uh, what don't you get?" said the voice.

"Well," I continued, "are you aliens or are you the U.S. military? I mean... what's with the flying saucers?"

"Well," said the voice, "you have to admit, it is bit frightening, don't you think? At least it worked on our test subjects. And there's that retro thing – it's popular these days. And wait until you see our new scary costumes! You'll be peeing in your pants! Ha, ha, ha!"

"Okay, okay fine." I said, "So why us? We're nothing, insignifigant, a mere trifling."

"That's not what our latest intelligence clearly says."

Oh, I knew all about their so called "latest intelligence" and I almost winked knowingly at Rupey until I suddenly remembered about his tattoo.

Before we knew it, hordes of green monsters began descending down out of the sky. And the first battle of Operation Tinsel-Freedom commenced.

It wasn't pretty. We were totally out numbered. And these guys were huge! It must be steroids or something – it totally freaked us out. That is, everyone but Wilmey... he fought like a firey-hot demon. A bulldozer! But even he wasn't enough to stop their ferocity.

If only Brad and Angelina hadn't left us... I'm sure we would've won that first battle. Typical hollywood crap! So I guess we see who's really committed to the Republic now, eh? What fakes! How could they do this to us? After we gave them our hearts! There will be no forgiveness for Brad and Angelina! The Tinsel Tribunal declares that, from now on, they will be known only as the Roach and the Ant and that they will be forever banished from the Republic.

Oh well. I guess we should start looking for other celebrities to use for publicity sake.

Though a great number of citizens were unwittingly sucked up into big dark holes in the bottom of the flying saucers, we are still a strong and proud nation. If anything, this attack has hardened our resolve! We will continue to fight, as long as it takes! And we will win this great battle. We win it for liberty, for justice, for Wow-Magical and for our Tinsadelic way of life! Got that?

Oh, and a couple more things... Rupey has decided fund this little skirmish of ours! He's dumping tons into it; very kind of him! Of course that means larger weapons, fancy meals and resort hotels from now on!

Also, as we're all well aware, there was a bit of confusion at the battle scene when a crowd of onlookers gathered around to watch the bloody spectacle. In no time at all they were confused with members of the Republic and many of them were also innocently sucked up by the U.S. In order to help remedy this problem, M.O.D.S. (Mothers of Dress & Safety), an all-volunteer organization, is working fast and furiously on the hand-made Official Uniform of the Republic of Tinselman. They are calling it, "vibrant, with a dash of brilliant summer color yet comfortable for those long nights on the field of battle." I, for one, can't wait to don mine.

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A New Dawn Rises!

I have a confession to make. Of late, I had begun to become discouraged with our Republic (of Tinselman). I had such hopes, such great ambitions for our fledgling nation. I dreamt that it might slowly grow, mature and eventually age, like the finest French Bordeaux. However, lately I've been forced to wonder, is the Republic of Tinselman forever frozen in that awkward prepubecent stage?

This was far too difficult for me to face alone, so I called Brad [Pitt] and before I could a word out he said, "Hey man, have you heard?! I mean, what d'you think?!"

"Brad" I said, "Of course I've heard. Everybody's heard. I can't get––"

He started laughing, "No, no... I'm not talking about Shiloh. I'm talking about the metropolis! I mean... the presentation! You know... From Emergence to Inferno. Oh God... it's gonna be great, I mean totally frickin' wonderful! I can't wait to see the look on their faces when we... oh god, oh god!" And he suddenly broke into uncontrolled laughter.

Finally Angelina came on the phone and I began to get it all straight. It turns out there was indeed to be a very important presentation. She wouldn't tell me a thing about it, other than it was created by "Wilmey", "Russ" and herself and was to take place in L.A. on June 7th. Of course, it took me a bit to realize who "Wilmey" was... turns out it's her pet name for our very own Adam Wilmer and... well, I did go to this presentation and... honestly, I guess there's no reason to waste anymore time... let me just describe it...

I arrived at Grauman's Chinese Theater at 2:14 in the morning – a discreet time. There were people everywhere. I knew not a one of them. At 3:00 a.m., I was sitting on one of the plush theater-seats next to Brad and Angelina. A moment later, the lights dimmed. A shimmering, lilting music began and the curtains parted to these words...

The Boys Presents...

From Emergence to Inferno

With Special Appearance by Angelina Jolie

Angelina elbowed me and pointed to her name. And I have to admit, I was beginning to shiver with anticipation! And I was bothered only slightly by the fact that the curtains were jammed halfway across the screen. Oh well. In the next moment I utterly forgot about it; I was simply lifted away (in a transcendental sort of way) by the sweet whispering emanating from the THX surround sound system. Angelina elbowed me again, mouthing the words, "that's my voice, that's me!"

Over a black screen, she said this (in her finest british accent)...

It is June 3, 1996. Two men... "the boys"... are standing above the ashes of the greatest city that ever was and ever will be. It is a sad moment. And yet, the boys are as happy as dancing happy little larks.

Suddenly an image appeared and there was Angelina on the silver screen, larger than life, and the boys behind her danced. I swear, they really were just like happpy little larks... it was uncanny (see top photo).

Angelina: The boys wanted it to snow today. This is what they told me. Silly boys... it does not snow in L.A.. But they said it would cover the ashes... a snow-veil, so to speak. I slapped both of them, playfully. Brad laughed when I did that. Then the boys slapped me back. Then I accidentely knocked one of Wilmey's teeth out. He he!

The above image came on the screen and Angelina, still whispering dramatically, continued: "Who are the boys? Why are they important? To answer this vital question, we must push back the hands of time to... another time, another place, to what we like to call Out of Africa. That is where our dream was born. Emergence. The dream of a city. A city commissioned by own illustrious Khan. A city for the Republic of Tinselman. A city constructed of toilet paper rolls. A city conceived and built by sub-Mayor Wilmey and his trusty assistant Russ."

The Angelina in the film continued talking but I could no longer hear her. Now I was weeping uncontrollably. And oh, the next shot was so beautiful...

I didn't even need to hear Angelina to know what this was! A statue! Carefully sculpted to bring glory and honor to me! Khan Miller! But before I could soak it in, this popped onto the screen...

And Angelina was no longer talking. Now she was singing with the voice of an angel. It was a heavenly melody; her lyric went thus...

Four toilet towers,
Bring to them your commerce.
Big road leads straight to it,
In winters, springs and summers.

Then the voice seemed to almost transform into that of a man. It began singing operatically, very quickly (and deep) and, though it was not an especially attractive voice, it had a lot of heart. Immediately I knew it must be Adam Wilmer and he sang these words...

What about the orges?
We have an orge problem!
Someone kill the orges!
The orges are invading!

Then the slow sublime voice of Angelina...

Don't you worry 'bout the orges,
Our stormtroopers will chop their eyes.
We'll throw them in the orge-ovens,
And we'll be eating orge-pies!

It went on like this and there was all sorts of delightful bits, and the orge plot went weaving through all of it, continually growing in intensity, but the theater burst forth with youthful raw energy at the sight of the Khan's personal "parking garage" and "awesome cars" (which are guarded by his own pet dinosaur)...

Or there was the gruesome, but unexpectantly touching sequence: the Gehn Whark Hanging Tribute Ceremony...

And then the lush (and closely guarded) "Battery Park" that powers the city with four massive C cell batteries...

All said, the presentation was exhilarating. Wondrous! But nothing matched its daring climax... (I'm shivering).

For a moment, the sceen went black and Angelina, Wilmey and Russ began reciting a poem... or something like a poem, their voices inseperably woven together (and yet grossly contrasting). In solemn tones, this is what they said...

Life... all things end.
Even empires must eventually... die!
Decayed to ashes and covered,
By our grief;
A veil of snow.

The screeen slowly dissolved to an outdoor scene, very similar to the first image from the film, with the exception that Angelina, Wilmey and Russ were standing, hand in hand, behind the city doing this weird dance thing. And they continued with the poem...

Angelina: Fire cleanses all.
Wilmey: Fire is fun to play with!
Russ: Fire is pretty and orange.

Angelina: Fire is the symbol of eternal passion!
Wilmey: Do you have the matches?
Russ: No, you idiot, I thought you brought them!

Then... silence. It turns out Angelina had the matches. She bent down and... lit the city ablaze!

It was such a beautiful and fitting end for the Metropolis of Tinselman! The entire theater was sobbing! How perfectly stunning! How horrifyingly lovely! We wept.

Of course it ended exactly as it had begun... with the boys dancing over the ashes. And yet there was one small addition. It turns out Wilmey was really determined to see some snow, so he did this macro slow-motion salt shaker thing as Angelina spoke...

Mourn at the ashes,
There's enough to fill a silo.
Hearken to the silent veil,
And I will name my baby Shiloh.
A new dawn,
Whoah-Hey!
The Republic of Tinselman liveth...
Forever!

I cried many times that night. And I had a great and an important realization. Yes... the Republic of Tinselman certainly is forever frozen that awkward prepubecent stage. We can never grow. We can never mature. We can never age. And all of this is awesome!!!

Note: Metropolis of Tinselman model and From Emergence to Inferno by Adam Wilmer. Wilmey deserves much thanks and kudos for such great descriptions of each and every area of the city! Please overwelm him with kind and flattering emails!

Mount St. Tinsel

On this beautiful, flowering, spring day, loyal Republic of Tinselman minister Adam Wilmer has volunteered to do the extraordinary: design and build our very first Republic of Tinselman city. We are awed. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Minister Wilmer.

I remind you, this Wilmer fellow is one talented son of a bitch. He's the very same guy that designed and created the Republic's fabulosio flag.

The details are thus: The city will be constructed out of toilet paper rolls because that is Minister Wilmer's medium of choice. The city will be constructed in miniature because the citizens of the Republic enjoy miniature stuff. And yeah, the city will be mayored by Brad Pitt.

Let me explain. The blogoshere has felt a tremor; oceans of tears at Bryan William Jones' Transvestic Draculina story. Just minutes after I posted it, Brad Pitt himself called me. He was weeping, which I really didn't get. He's got a really stupid sounding weep... it's almost funny. But then Angelina got on and it was just so damn real. The tears. The shared emotion. "Angelina," I said, "it's like this. When you're up there, on the silver screen, you and Brad, especially together, you both are so gorgeous, my God, it's not just acting, it's angelic."

And she wept and I wept. And Brad, he wept too. It was beautiful. "Robyn," he said, "I want to be a part of this... this tinselman thing. It's time for me to be more involved."

"No Brad." And that was difficult to say, but it was the right thing to say: "No, it's not time yet. You're not prepared. You need to clear your mind, to break the never-ending cycle of your self imposed fears. Consider this, just consider this one word because, in a manner of speaking, you've become trapped in the well of yourself. And I know this because I am the Khan of Tinselman. And the proclaimer of all things that are right and correct and true (and beautiful)." They had to agree with me there and they laughed, uncomfortably. I didn't laugh.

They wanted to know the one word. "Don't rush the Khan. He can sense your fears," but I think they were getting tired of the whole Khan thing so I dropped it and said the word... "Africa".

For about five minutes we all sat there in perfect silence. It was one of those moments where no one knows what to say, one of those processing moments. I kept waiting and waiting. I read a few blogs. I read a newspaper article. And I finally realized they had hung up on me.

Wow, I couldn't believe how completely rude they were! Little did I know, they had immediately called their agents and practically set up a mini sabatical to Africa. They left almost immediately and have since said it was the perfect thing and it was exactly what they needed but it's not what I meant at all! And... they cut off all communication to the outside world. So I had no way to contact them and say, "Hey! Angelina. Brad... really dumb idea. Especially being pregnant and all. I was only talking about renting the movie... Out of Africa.

But get this... turns out they recently, and quite "coincidentally", watched it while in Africa. It changed their lives (of course). And this is so beautiful... Angelina's water broke in the middle of the film but she couldn't stop watching. So they watched it again and again, nine times, throughout her labor and during the birthing! She said, and I quote (because I recorded the conversation), "because me and Brad, you know, we're so much like the two of them, I mean Meryl and Robert... oh, they were just so damn gorgeous! Just like us, you know! Like, and it's all there in Africa and, like... we're in Africa. And thank you, Khan. Thank you for giving all this to us. What did you think of the film?"

I had to admit I hadn't seen the film... it just sort of came to me. A Khanlian Word of Knowledge, so to speak. But I was overjoyed to hear her call me Khan. They had come around. They were ready to enter the fold.

And this is where we come back to our main subject: Minister Wilmer's toilet paper Republic of Tinselman city. We will need a mayor for this city and now that Brad and Angelina are obvious tinselistic loyalists (unlike William Shatner, who was a pig and a scoundrel) and because Brad Pitt was such an inspiration to our own Bryan William Jones, I have chosen Brad Pitt as the new Mayor of The Metropolis of Tinselman.

In addition, because Minister Wilmer is building the city, he says he deserves to be sub-Mayor under Mayor Pitt. Fine, fine, so be it... whatever you like, Adam.

He also wants permission to make out with Angelina Jolie.

This is preposterous! She's a new mother, for god's sakes! And more importantly, she's your sister in the Republic! Your sister, Adam! You want to make out with your sister?! Have you frickin' lost your mind?!

Okay... whew.

To inspire Minsiter Wilmer in his most bodacious task, the Khan (me) has constructed a miniature mountain. Since my post yesterday, I have been chewing bubble gum like a madman and now I think I've completed my masterpiece. Because what's a city without a mountain? And so... the Khan will live at the top of this mountain (in his palace, which I have yet to invent, but it will be spectacular). All officials and Ministers live on the hillside in their funkturos. Down below all the citizens go about their hustle and bustle in the spectacular city of toilet paper rolls.

Don't be fooled by these by these miniature representations! The Republic of Tinselman is as real as your own skin and bones! Just believe it... and it becomes real. The Khan says it. It is true.

Note: I didn't really make the