Poor Frank J. he’s been emailing me for weeks. He’s threatened to kidnap Cosmo. He’s flattered, he’s cajoled, he’s made some funny jokes. And all the while I’ve refused to endorse him as the best humor blogger in those now hopelessly befuddled Weblog Awards. Indeed, I turned my indifference up an existential notch. I refused to care who wins said award. But then James Taranto went and endorsed Scappleface as the funniest blog, or hairiest blogger or something. Again: the caring is not a huge priority. But poor Frank seems to care. Apparently Scrappleface is the one-eyebrowed baby to his Maggie Simpson. Right now he’s huddled in the corner screaming “it burns! it burns!” but when I told him I’d put a good word in their for him, he started shrieking “Festival! Festival!” like the those Landru-worshipping Archons and gleefully twirling around the room like Michael Moore after those first bogus exit poll numbers came in.
So anyway, as Bernie Bernbaum says to Tom in Miller’s Crossing, “look in your heart” and see if you can throw a vote or two towards this pathetic, twisted angry young man. You can read some of his stuff here and here. But please note, I am not disparaging Scappleface nor am I trying to engage Jim Taranto in a proxy war, though that might be fun.