Hi guys, sorry it’s been sorta quiet around here in “My Blog”-land.

But I’m BACK IN THE GAME and READY TO BLOG!!!

Check back in ten hours for my SUPERBOWL RECAP!

It’s movie review time! Movies are the lifeblood of our culture. In these troubling economic times, we must support Hollywood more than ever. Throw all your books in the garbage and go to the movies TODAY.

Yesterday I saw “Taken,” starring Liam Neeson.

If you liked the Bourne movies — but thought they weren’t xenophobic enough, or sexist enough, or monotonous enough, or just plain ol’ shitty enough — you’ll love “Taken.”

Seriously? I couldn’t believe what a preposterous heap of turdly, rightwing discombobulation this thing was. Liam Neeson should chop off his own toe for starring in it. And also? His hair? Worst dye job I have ever seen. You can’t tell me that’s his natural color. Colors like that don’t even occur naturally in outer space. “Manic Panic in the house!”

Liam Neeson’s huffing and puffing around Paris, driving cars backwards and breaking into lairs and judo-chopping Albanians, trying to be Matt Damon — are you kidding me? Take your 9-foot-tall ass back to Shakespeare camp and leave action movies to the young people, you AARP-wannabe interloper. (Honestly, Liam Neeson could be 30 years old for all I know, but this movie has such a pathological “cranky old man” vibe — I thought maybe I was watching a John McCain fever dream — that you have to add 52 years to the age of anyone involved with it.)

I was really excited to see “Taken” because the preview is so good, when he’s on the phone with his daughter and he’s like, “Listen to me. They are going to abscond with you. You’ll have five seconds to tell me everything you can about your kidnappers.” I thought, “This movie will be an adrenaline-fueled thrill ride!” Instead, after about twenty minutes, I was like, “You know what? I hope his daughter IS sold into prostitution by those dirty stinking Albanians. And I hope Liam Neeson’s character gets hit by a goddamn French bus — the most effeminate, most dishonorable type of bus known to man.”

LOL, a game you can play when you see this movie: When Liam Neeson shows up at his daughter’s 17th birthday party (being held at his ex-wife’s new lover’s sprawling mansion) and gives her the cheap-ass karaoke machine he’s been doing product-research on for weeks, and she hugs him … and then turns around to see her (swarthy) stepfather leading a pony onto the yard, and she runs over and hugs her stepfather and jumps on the pony and the stepfather stands there looking down his nose at Liam Neeson, yell out: “I’M CONFUSED: WHICH MAN AM I SUPPOSED TO SYMPATHIZE WITH?!?”

Another game: When Liam Neeson makes a lunch date with his daughter, and thinks he can finally get some quality time alone with her, and then (uggh) his total bitch of an ex-wife shows up too (you know how ex-wives are such evil bitches, always judging and castrating the common guy) but no worries, they’ll still have their lunch … and Liam Neeson says to his daughter, “Here’s your strawberry milkshake, just the way you like, with extra cherries on top,” yell out: “ARE WE ESTABLISHING THAT HIS 17-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER (WHO’S ABOUT TO GO TO PARIS FOR THE FIRST TIME) IS A TOTAL SLUT?!?” (Also, a minor point, but: Who orders a milkshake for their daughter ahead of time? You think she wants some grimy-ass, room-temperature milkshake that’s been sitting around for twenty minutes?)

One more game: At the very end of the movie, after Liam Neeson has killed, like, 80 foreigners on his quest to save his daughter from the Albanian prostitution ring (weirdly, he never seems to really think about saving any of the other kidnapped girls he runs across, maybe because he doesn’t know what kind of milkshakes they like) and he’s just killed all the Arabs on the yacht (the Arabs bought his daughter at a prostitute auction in a fancy basement somewhere, you know how Arabs do, always raping our virgin women, LOL, she’s even described as a virgin by the auctioneer), and he’s covered in blood and broken glass and he’s holding his weeping daughter, and she says “You came for me!” and he says, “I told you I would” …

… Yell out: “WOW, HE MUST REALLY WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH HER!”

Honestly, the only moment of pleasure in this entire film comes when somebody gets run over by a truck at a surprising moment.

FIVE OUT OF FIVE STARS!!!

Guys, I’m sorry I haven’t been better about updating my blog. I’ve come down with a bad cold.

But that’s actually good news for you, because it means you get to enjoy the hottest COLD-RELATED HUMOR:

“What’s the favorite movie of a person who has a cold?”
“I don’t know, what?”
“Cold Mountain.”

“What’s the name of the famous sculptor who made mobiles out of old Kleenexes and frozen sneeze-dust?”
“I don’t know, what’s his name?”
“ALEXANDER COLDER.”

I’m loving the new war between TPM and Politico!

I’m backing TPM in this clash of the titans. Keep sniping, JMM!

“What’s a person with a cold’s favorite kind of lunch meat?”
“I don’t know.”
“COLD CUTS.”

“Why did the guy with the cold try to enter his nose in the marathon?”
“I don’t know, why?”
“BECAUSE HE HAD A ‘RUNNY’ NOSE.”

“When the Lord was handing out colds, I though he was handing out alarm clocks, so I asked for one with a big SNEEZE BUTTON!” (Pronounce like “Snooze Button”)

“What’s the favorite song made by Foreigner for someone who has a cold when they’re listening to it?”
“I don’t know, what?”
“COLD AS ICE.”

“What kind of telemarketing is done by people when they have a cold?”
“I don’t know, what kind?”
“COLD-CALLING.”

“What temperature of water does if feel terrible to get splashed with when you have a cold?”
“I don’t know.”
“COLD.”

More slammin’ jokes from the world of the sick . . .

“Why couldn’t Dracula’s wife get a good night’s sleep when he had a cold?”
“Why?”
“Because of his coughin’ (coffin).”

“What’s the difference between bubblegum and cough medicine?”
“I don’t know, what?”
“Nothing. Neither of them stop coughs FOR SHIT.”

“What is a sneeze’s favorite kind of train?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me.”
“AH-CHOO CHOO TRAIN!!!”

Only two letters separate coughing from laughing . . .

“What did the cough say to the runny nose?”
“What?”
“Let’s spend the night together.”
(This is about how hard it is to sleep when you’re coughing and sniffling.)

“Why was the kid with the cold denied internet access?”
“Why?”
“Because someone said he had a HACKING COUGH.”

“Who is a sneeze’s favorite Star Wars character?”
“Who?”
“AH-CHOOBACCA.”

“What do you get when you win the SNEEZE OLYMPICS?”
“What?”
“A COLD MEDAL.”

HERE ARE THE LATEST POLLS ABOUT COLDS!!! MUST CREDIT MNFTIU!!!

POLL #1: Symptoms (sample size = 3,025)
SNEEZES: 59%
SNIFFLES: 24%
COUGHS: 50%
HEADACHE: 33%

POLL #2: Sniffle type (sample size = 20,056)
“Drippy”: 52%
“Snorty”: 29%
“Honker”: 44%
“Slurpy”: 14%
“Old-school, straight-up sniffle”: 36%

POLL #3: “What’s your favorite song about COLDS?” (sample size = 630 music industry insiders)
“Coughing in the Club” (Stetsasonic): 10%
“Sneezy the Factory Worker” (Bruce Springsteen): 12%
“Grab the Kleenex ‘N’ Go” (Bill Hailey and the Comets): 4%
“Blow Your Nose On My Face” (Axl Rose solo career): 30%

Headed to Wisconsin this weekend … one of my favorite states … flying to Detroit, then Wisconsin … “Lifestyles of the rich and infamous” …

What should I wear on my trip to Wisconsin? I’ll definitely bring my winter coat. Long underwear, of course. My brown knit hat that I love wearing all day. Should I pack my brown hoodie? Or is that too much brown? Maybe I’ll wear my new orange hoodie instead. Then I’ll be in high-visibility mode, which could be useful in case of a snow storm…

BREAKING NEWS FROM THE MNFTIU MANSION …

Just got the chance to use one of my favorite phrases! My wife just came into my office (where I was hard at work as always) and she started talking about all this stuff and whatnot and then — she tried to tell me that a PAYDAY isn’t actually a candy bar … “because it has nuts in it.”

ME: “That’s so preposterous I won’t dignify it with a response.”

GOOOOOAAAALLLLL!!!!

When I fly to Wisconsin I’m going to wear my winter boots. (Because of the snow.) But I’ll have to take them off for airport security. Oh boy! I think I’ll tie them very loosely, for easy removal.

SOUNDS LIKE A PLAN.

I’ve got Wisconsin fever … gonna be a hot time in the ol’ cheese-warehouse tonight … cheddar, you better bring your SHARPEST game, because I’m about ready to GO OFF on some cheese …

I hope talkingpointsmemo never stops slamming Politico.

Hello, Friday Face-Off heads. Just want to apologize for the appalling lack of Friday Face-Offs these past few Fridays.

Don’t worry; Friday Face-Offs is indeed coming back. (I’m thinking maybe next Friday?)

Thanks for your patience and understanding as we endeavor to resolve this situation.

I’m back from Wisconsin!

No recent era in mnftiu.cc history has been as divisive and controversial as “Wisconsin Week.”

Reader MR chimes in:

I feel like all you ever do these days is go to Wisconsin. Your blog was once the greatest blog on the internet … changing the tides of politics, current events, and art … “bringing it” to the most powerful people in the world … informing your readers about good wine … now it’s just the greatest blog about going to Wisconsin.

What can I say? My role as a blogger is to seek out the truth, comfort the afflicted, afflict the comfortable, and type funny jokes into my computer screen. Most of all, I HAVE TO BE TRUE TO MY OWN BELIEFS. And last week I believed I was going to Wisconsin. Why did I believe this? Because I bought an airplane ticket on the internet. And the ticket said, “Going to Wisconsin on the plane.”

Then, on Friday morning, I went to the airport and got on a plane and literally flew 10,000 (or however many miles) to Wisconsin.

If I hadn’t blogged about my trip to Wisconsin — if I had kept it secret — I would have been lying to you … and lying to myself.

And what is it they say about the man who lies to himself?

Oh, that’s right: “The man who lies to himself is like the dog that chases its own tail.”

As our free market comes under deadly assault by the Socialists and the Trotskyists in the White House, we must rally around the principles of innovation, competition, and excellence that made our country great — back when it was a free-market laboratory and not the USSR paradise it’s turning into because of the Leninists known as “The Government.”

If we don’t stand our ground, circle our wagons, and march in a parade, all that we and Ayn Rand have slaved for will be lost.

So I’m proposing we hold a big fashion show and give all the money to the free market. Who’s with me?

I’m going to design a fall line whose dresses, trousers, and jackets will celebrate Ayn Rand’s legacy as well as our continuing “guerilla war” against those who would chop off the legs of the free market and serve them to poor people as “Special Leg-Burgers.”

The textures, colors, and clean lines of my fashion collection will suggest the power, elegance, and intellectual texture of the innovation that can only flourish when government gets out of the way and allows schemers, dreamers, and meme-ers to do what they do best.

Does anyone have Kenneth Cole on speed-dial? If you do, please press your phone button and call him and say, “We need some hot slogans and mottos for our Ayn Rand Fashion Fundraiser.”

Does anyone wait tables at Le Bernaddian (sp)? (That fish restaurant that was on Top Chef last week.) If so, please tell your boss that we need to reserve the restaurant for our after-party dinner with exclusive flavors inspired by Alan Greenspan’s breath.

More details soon …

(If you didn’t know that I’m an unapologetic free-market fundamentalist and budding fashion designer, I’m sorry.)

I’m going to the South By Southwest Interactive Conference in March. I’m participating in a panel discussion about HTML code and how to change the color of your home page.

Just kidding, the panel’s not about HTML. More information soon . . .

Don’t know about you, but I am FIRED UP about Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal’s speech last night. After “Communist-in-Chief” Barack Obama spoke to Americans like they were a bunch of babies (all the while scheming to steal their money and give it to the banks, which he would then nationalize, meaning he would get a huge year-end bonus), it was refreshing to see a politician who isn’t afraid to speak to Americans like they’re adults.

I’ll admit, I haven’t really been paying attention to the USA Leninism Stimulator Act, or whatever it’s called. (All I knew was that it cost about fifty quadrillion dollars, and if you started stacking $100 bills on top of each other the day Jesus was born, they’d eventually reach all the way around the equator and into outer space and we’d all be forced to walk to the moon on a stairway of dollar bills made from how wasteful the government is.)

But it took Bobby Jindal’s confident, manly speech and ferocious, slashing hand gestures to really bring home to me just how wasteful the Stimulator Package really is.

Did you know the USA government wants to spend your money on something called “Volcano Monitoring?” Are you kidding me?

Like Jindal said, “Americans can do anything,” and that includes monitoring our own d*mn volcanoes. Seriously, how hard can it be? It’s probably like ice fishing. Just get some binoculars and some graph paper and a thermometer and sit around looking at a stupid volcano and every once in a while, write down some data, like, “The volcano is still sitting there, lookin’ like an off-brand mountain with a hole in it. 10 + 50 - 20. Pie chart.”

Remember: Americans can do anything. They don’t expect the government to fix everything. True Americans aren’t afraid of the drama and risk of the free market — the transformative thrill of creative destruction — the hot explosion of the unexpected — the dynamism of having your outmoded assumptions (and your home) buried in the burning lava of innovation — the full-throated cries of agony as yesterday’s losers are turned to ash and new, more productive members of society are birthed!

Ladies and gentlemen, Americans can do anything! Let’s prove it to the world! LET’S ALL GET KILLED BY VOLCANOES!