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Communists of St. Petersburg on Obama Victory

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Communists of Petersburg and the Leningrad Oblast have issued an official statement on Barack Obama's victory in the 2008 presidential election. They are the same glorious party who earlier denounced Harrison Ford with Cate Blanchett for the anti-Soviet propaganda in Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, and most recently accused Olga Kurylenko of treason for playing the new Bond girl.

If you find the text over the top, please note that we are not making this up: this is our most thorough word-for-word translation of their Russian-language statement posted on the official Party website:

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COMMUNISTS OF PETERSBURG ON OBAMA VICTORY


The Secretary of the Volkhov District Committee of the Communist Party Katerina Petrova has expressed the Party's position in her statement regarding the victory in the presidential election of the candidate of the liberal wing of the Democrat Party Barack Obama:

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"The days of the bloodthirsty and thieving Bush administration are ending. The American people have rejected the rabid Russophobia and anti-Sovietism of McCain. We, the Communists, believe that McCain must respond to his own defeat like an honorable officer and shoot himself in the head. Or there will be no respect left for him.

Even though Obama was supported by many left-wing forces in the U.S., including - at our request - The Communist Party of America, Barack is clearly being controlled by the Pentagon and Wall Street. Comrade Zyuganov has correctly observed with dismay that Obama is surrounded by slithering certified Russophobes - Brzezinski and the maniacal Albright. Therefore, Russia cannot lower its guard - we must be prepared for the continuation of the Cold War. But there still is a chance that Barack Obama chooses a realistic policy and brings new people into his team. The Communists and the Socialist Party USA, as well as Negro organizations, must demand that Obama appoint their representatives to key management positions! Let's also hope that Obama is intelligent enough to reach out to Venezuela, Cuba, Syria, Korea, Zimbabwe, and Palestine.

We would like to alert the progressive forces of America: if Obama chooses the policies of reason and renounces Bush's policies of aggression and intervention, the CIA will try to assassinate the new president. To this end, the American Left must hide Obama in some sort of Uncle Tom's cabin. But in the event Obama succumbs to the pressure from the bankers and the military reactionaries, all the workers who have contributed money to his campaign must withdraw their dollars back.

We have noticed the hope and enthusiasm with which the people's America is celebrating the Negro boy's victory; how it is being cheered in the streets of American towns and villages by common toilers who are tired of the war in Iraq, of the absolute power of monopolies, of the hawks in the White House; it is impossible not to get excited at the sight of the dark-skinned Americans - so thirsty for change... You better not mislead them, Barack Obama! Do not leave them exposed to the forces of blind fate! Do not betray the legacy of glorious Americans - Lincoln, Roosevelt, and Martin Luther King! Or you won't be worth a red cent!"


THE PEOPLE'S CUBE STATEMENT
REGARDING THE COMMUNISTS OF PETERSBURG STATEMENT REGARDING OBAMA VICTORY:

Comrades!

American toiling masses under the guidance of the People's Cube wholeheartedly support Communists of Petersburg and the Leningrad Oblast! In a statement regarding your statement, we would like the entire world once again to denounce McCarthyism and the rabid dogs of Cold War paranoia as evidence of America's incorrigible ignorance about the world's good intentions. It is a disgrace that in our progressive age, Red Scare continues to guide American policies as the masses are slaving under the yoke of inefficient capitalist monopolies - a sad reality that is causing resentment and anti-Americanism in the lands that are enlightened and peaceful.

As the rest of the world plunges further into the normalcy of peace and socialism, it would have loved to take the United States with it - if only Americans weren't so ridiculously scared of change proposed by foreign and domestic fighters for social and economic justice. But with the election of Barack Obama to the highest office that change may finally come - and we hope that in the end the Communists of Petersburg and the Leningrad Oblast will find it in their hearts to forgive our past transgressions and deservedly call us equals in a just and happy community of pegs in the machine of progress.

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In other news, the same Communists of Petersburg have just issued the following list of traditional party-approved slogans for the November 7th celebration of the 91st Anniversary of the Great October Socialist Revolution:

  • Long live the Great October!
  • Strive for the unity of communists and socialists!
  • The rabid dog of capitalism is dead - give us the flaming winged socialism!
  • Russia's true names are Lenin, Stalin, Gagarin!
  • Education, healthcare, housing - free of charge!
  • Green light to the Russian culture! Wipe the ugly Americanism off our screens!
  • Kudrin must be fired! Throw Chubais in jail!
  • Put Russia's missile shield in Kaliningrad!
  • Yes to the nationalization of foreign companies in Russia!
  • Yes to the unification of Russia with Byelorussia, Abkhazia, Ossetia, Transdnestr, and the Crimea!
  • Return palaces to the children!
  • Greetings to the states of socialism and people's democracy - Cuba, Vietnam, China, North Korea, Venezuela, Nicaragua, Bolivia, Syria, Nepal, Ecuador, Angola, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, Laos!
  • WMF - get out of Russia!

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Red Square wrote:<li>The rabid dog of capitalism is dead - give us the flaming winged socialism!</li>

I think you mistranslated the above, which should read: "The rabid dog of capitalism is dead - give us the flamer wing of socialism!"

It was obviously a secret message to Comrades Vlad and Bruno.

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Comrades, perhaps we are being selfish. If they venerate B._.O. so highly, perhaps we should send him to rule Russia. What better place to hide him than Uncle Vlad's cabin, nyet?

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The Communist Party of St. Petersburg has gone soft. Why else would it call for McCain to shoot himself, when Obama has perfectly good goons to carry that out for him?

Disturbingly, this sweet little socialistka reveals her bourgeois side when she appeals to "honor." I believe she is in need of serious Stalinist reeducation. This little pussy cat is just the one for the job. Hold on my sexy little Kat Petrova! Reeeeooowwww!

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Glad to see that indeed the world respects us again, the well-wishes are pouring in. The great change is upon us.

A word of caution, though. Let us not make too much of the triumph of comrades of color, lest we disenfranchise them all over again. You see, if the bourgeoisie believe that Amerikka is truly post-racial, all support for our social justice movement will evaporate! We must continue to beat the drum! Opposition to any Democrat policies means pockets of racism are still smoldering!

US out of North America!

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Communists of St. Petersburg wrote:Greetings to the states of socialism and people's democracy - Cuba, Vietnam, China, North Korea...

Greetings to you as well Comrades!

Communists of St. Petersburg wrote:Let's also hope that Obama is intelligent enough to reach out to Venezuela, Cuba, Syria, Korea.....

Don't worry I have a nuclear program that has 'extortion' written all over it. hahaha.

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Truth is stranger than fiction. And I think it's going to get even more strange under our new ruler.
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An Israeli doctor says 'Medicine in my country is so advanced that we can take a kidney out of one man, put it in another, and have him looking for work in six weeks.'

A German doctor says 'That is nothing; we can take a lung out of one person, put it in another, and have him looking for work in four weeks.

An American Texas doctor, not to be outdone, says 'You guys are way behind, we recently took a man with no brains out of <st1><st1>Texas</st1></st1> , put him in the White House for eight years, and now half the country is looking for work.'<o></o>

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Ah, The Dear Leader
So much for the lies and rumors that you were ill.

I want you to attend the inauguration (or whatever we decide to call it) and administer the oath to THE ONE.

Comrades, this is no good.
"I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute theoffice ofPresident of the United States, and will to the best of my ability,preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States."
I want it changed. We did demand CHANGE, didn't we comrades? So, let's CHANGE it; anyone up to the task?

Glory to THE DEAR LEADER, Comrade Kim Jung IL.
WE are humbled and infinately honored for you to guide us.

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Ah, nothing like a little juche to start my day!

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Red Square wrote: <p align="center"><i><img src="/images/Communists_of_Ptrburg_Pione.jpg"></i></p>

That redhead looks a lot like the one my petersburg celebrated with some glorious November revolutions.

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Red Square wrote: <p align="center"><i><img src="/images/Communists_of_Ptrburg_Pione.jpg"></i></p>

Comrades,

Where do I get my shiny satiny Smock of Collectivized Followerhood? My potato harvesting activities would be much more enhanced were I to sport a spiffy emblazoned smock while I worked.
It's not vanity that drives me, comrades, but the ability to work in honor of the glorious collective while simultaneously wearing proof of my dedication to the Good of the People ™ on my upper torso. Look on the joy on the faces on those modeling this newest fashion item! Look at the Hope ™ that shines from their eyes!

KR

Saul Alinsky wrote:Ah, The Dear Leader
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Our glorious future - we'll all have the same faces! Is that me or... the soldier, the engineer, and NKVD-shnik in blue have the same faces? May be I am just dizzy with success...

Where do I get my shiny satiny Smock of Collectivized Followerhood? My potato harvesting activities would be much more enhanced were I to sport a spiffy emblazoned smock while I worked.


KittyRed
Please report to The Eastern El Paso County Collective Farm of the Commonwealth of Colorado. You have been promoted to corn, wheat, and cattles feed. Once there you will be issued--er I mean GIFTED with a shiny satiny what ever you said. Please do not be late, as the new time clock shoots...I mean sends a report causing me tons of paper work. I do enjoy paperwork for the glory of my lord and savior Barry but I find that my time is better used encouraging the laborers by--I mean AND keeping my AK polished.
Hail Obama and the Peoples Party who we thank for the latest farming technology. * a tear of joy falls on my wooden handled spade*
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Dr. Strangelove wrote:It was obviously a secret message to Comrades Vlad and Bruno.
Doctor, there is no need of secret messages to me. I detect code words in <i>everything</i>. Why, just the other day I was reading the Declaration of Independence, looking for loopholes, and I found that

Thomas Jefferson wrote wrote:When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

Yeah. Like that's really what he meant. Here's the real deal:

Thomas Jefferson meant, in code wrote:When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for some people to wail the shit out of other people because they want to and they can, that's just fine as long as it's progressives wailing the shit out of people.<br><br>So long as they feel <i>good</i> doing it.

So who needs secret messages? Moi?

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:Yeah. Like that's really what he meant. Here's the real deal:

Thomas Jefferson meant, in code wrote:When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for some people to wail the shit out of other people because they want to and they can, that's just fine as long as it's progressives wailing the shit out of people.<br><br>So long as they feel <i>good</i> doing it.

So who needs secret messages? Moi?

Hence the origin of the phrase, "Yes we can!"

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And just what is this "we" shit? You mean me, don't you?

I mean me. I'm primus inter pares among progressives.

Yes we can!tm The "we" reminds me that it has been a while since I have made up a cheesy redundant slogan for the moment.

"There is room for U and I in communism."

(Say it 5 times and the redundancy takes effect.)

That is all.....carry on!

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:And just what is this "we" shit? You mean me, don't you?

I mean me. I'm primus inter pares among progressives.

But Comrade Vlad, there is nothing more truly progressive than referring to oneself in the third person, as all royalty should. It's not like anybody other than the less equal proles would have thought The Obamessiah meant otherwise!

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Dr., I do recognize the medical we, the regal we, and the editorial we. Now I will accept that I sometimes use the editorial and the regal we. Bruno, to whom you referred, which jerked his attention away from a rhinestone he was playing with, only uses we when he has a gerbil in his pocket.

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:Dr., I do recognize the medical we, the regal we, and the editorial we. Now I will accept that I sometimes use the editorial and the regal we. Bruno, to whom you referred, which jerked his attention away from a rhinestone he was playing with, only uses we when he has a gerbil in his pocket.

Is Bruno by any chance related to Minsc?

Make way evil! I'm armed to the teeth and packing a hamster! Go for the eyes Boo, GO FOR THE EYES!! RrraaaAAGHGHH!!! Boo likes the forest. (Ask Betty to explain.)

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Bruno is the product of a chemical experiment. He was born after some man got quite drunk before he went to a Liza Minelli concert that his wife dragged him to and he, in a fit of homosexual panic, decided to show her he was a a man instead of running for the hills.

And thus we have Bruno.

Or thus I have Bruno. You want Bruno? He comes with a trousseau. Meow's Hummels.

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KittyRed wrote:Comrades,

Where do I get my shiny satiny Smock of Collectivized Followerhood? My potato harvesting activities would be much more enhanced were I to sport a spiffy emblazoned smock while I worked.

Comrade Potato Harvester Red Kitty,

I hope those aren't Yukon Gold spuds you're using your People's Shovel™ to dig up! They will only dull it, leading to your forced transfer from Harvesting to Necroproxy duty, or if the venerable but equal Comrade Doctor Otis is bored, a visit to the Karl Marx Treatment Centre where you will be required to listen to Children Singing for Obama until you bleed from the ears and eyes, especially if they are removed.... Your People's Shovel™ may only be used to harvest Official Peoples Cube™ Red Potatoes (or the occasional ACORN), and miraculously, even when shipped one by one via fuel guzzling foreign-made SUVs, there is absolutely no carbon footprint associated with either their cultivation or transportation. The Obama has made it so, Gore be Praised!

Sister Massively Opiated
Kommissar of Housekeeping... Forever Mopping up the Carbon Footprints of those who would crush our Hope.

ps. We respectfully request that our over-enthusiastic Comrades stop tossing CHANGE in the Laika - Friend of Peoples Fountain™ in front of the the Karl Marx Treatment Centre. It is bunging up the filters. Just drop it off at the front desk to recieve a ration coupon for free shovel sharpening, and a recipe for scalloped potatoes made with ration coupons for free shovel sharpening.

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:And thus we have Bruno.

Or thus I have Bruno. You want Bruno? He comes with a trousseau. Meow's Hummels.

Yes Comrades!

Take Bruno... Please...

Housekeeping is tired of having to dust those damn Hummels, and frankly, after that drunken insurgent, Blue Belle broke them last year, Meow attempted to repair them with Tester's model glue and between his sobbing and huffing the glue, put them back together in somewhat... um... er... well... decadent postures... and they frighten the housekeeping staff... as do his sheets...

Theocritus... may we include Meow's sheets in Bruno's trousseau as well?... I've given up trying to get the stains out of them and am sure they are quite ruined and he's already requisitioned new ones anyway...

Your comrade in forbearance (heavy sigh....),
SMO

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SMO, can I be your spousal unit? Please. Pretty please!

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Sister, of course we may include Meow's sheets in Bruno's trousseau. In fact Meow happens to be at the present wrapped up in them. And he will remain wrapped up in them until I loosen the knots which keep him wrapped up in them.

It's amazing how you and I, dear Sister, think so much alike. You in Canuckistan and I in the Soon-To-Be-People's Republic of Texas. Consanguinity? I have determined that Meow's carbon footprint will be much diminished if he breathes through stained sheets wrapped tightly around him.

But also, Sister, I think that we can go further in our exploration of what makes a carbon footprint.

By definition Party Members do not make carbon footprints. Carbon footprints are made by people that we don't like and we impute carbon footprints much as the people of Salem pointed a finger at Hester Prynn and made her wear a Scarlet A. For the reality is not the reality of the footprint but it is the reality of our desire for the footprint.

Does this sound like schizophrenia? It is not, I assure you. It is merely minding the store.

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Dr. Strangelove wrote:SMO, can I be your spousal unit? Please. Pretty please!

"Mr. President, it is not only possible, it is essential. That is thewhole idea of this machine, you know.... the Doomsday machine is terrifying and simpleto understand... and completely credible and convincing."... "It would not be difficult, Mein Fuhrer. Nuclear reactors could... I'm sorry, Mr. President... nuclear reactors could provide power almost indefinitely. "
.. .. (snort.. snicker... )
..
.. um .. so... yeah... I guess if you want we could... y'know... like... uh huh...

Huh? What?..... ... nothing...
Sister Massively Opiated
("Mein Führer! I can walk!" Ow... motherfu.. freaking ketamine! MEOW!!!)

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:Sister, of course we may include Meow's sheets in Bruno's trousseau. In fact Meow happens to be at the present wrapped up in them. And he will remain wrapped up in them until I loosen the knots which keep him wrapped up in them.

It's amazing how you and I, dear Sister, think so much alike. You in Canuckistan and I in the Soon-To-Be-People's Republic of Texas. Consanguinity? I have determined that Meow's carbon footprint will be much diminished if he breathes through stained sheets wrapped tightly around him.

Ahhh... you found my Midori book! I thought Meow had lost it, the bastard... last time I front him anything...

ungh... do you know he's spiked his cognac with ketamine again... coulda warned me...

Goin' to fal... lie down now
Sm


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Sister Massively Opiated wrote:Ahhh... you found my Midori book!

PLEASE!!!

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yeah sure... okay... what the hell... just let me change the cling wrap on the couch and put out some little fancy soaps in the candy dishes....

do you, by chance, own a nail gun?

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Sister Massively Opiated wrote:yeah sure... okay... what the hell... just let me change the cling wrap on the couch and put out some little fancy soaps in the candy dishes....

do you, by chance, own a nail gun?

Yay!

But of course. Doesn't every man? [rimshot]

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Sister, a <i>nail gun</i>? Is that not a little extreme? I would expect that of Pupovich, in one of his prolier-than-thou phases. After all, strong Soviet socialism, the triumph of the worker, the rule of the proletariat, and all that stuff. But you?

I'd have thought rather a Water Weasel filled with ammonia. Or ice picks disguised as hair combs.

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Sister Massively Opiated wrote:
Commissar Theocritus wrote:Sister, of course we may include Meow's sheets in Bruno's trousseau. In fact Meow happens to be at the present wrapped up in them. And he will remain wrapped up in them until I loosen the knots which keep him wrapped up in them.

It's amazing how you and I, dear Sister, think so much alike. You in Canuckistan and I in the Soon-To-Be-People's Republic of Texas. Consanguinity? I have determined that Meow's carbon footprint will be much diminished if he breathes through stained sheets wrapped tightly around him.

Ahhh... you found my Midori book! I thought Meow had lost it, the bastard... last time I front him anything...

ungh... do you know he's spiked his cognac with ketamine again... coulda warned me...

Goin' to fal... lie down now
Sm

Damnit. And here I thought Midori was just a chartreuse colored alcoholic beverage. Thanks for shattering my innocenct little world, sister.
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the Midori I know and love...

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Sister Massively Opiated wrote:yeah sure... okay... what the hell... just let me change the cling wrap on the couch and put out some little fancy soaps in the candy dishes....

do you, by chance, own a nail gun?

huh huh huh. You said NAIL gun. huh huh huh.

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I just thought. I actually have a nail gun, and it's attached to Bruno when I take away his Frederick's of Hollywood catalogue.

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Comrade Cousin Theocritus,

Despite our now obvious to me relatedness (How could I have failed to see it?... I am surprised at my own inattention, honestly)...you know, I'd always wondered what happened to the one the family mutters about as I am currently the oldest of all the cousins... so many stories... Gypsies... Cossacks... Magick beans... Baba Yaga...and all overheard as the Alters whispered around the kitchen table at night, drinking Crown Royal and eating schmaltz and greaven on black rye while playing infinite rounds of Penuchle and Cribbage, after we'd been all been put to bed in the back room of our sod hut on the Prairie, in the big bed... we grew up believing that old child's song "There Were Ten In the Bed and the Little One Said..." was about us... but I digress... I'd always wondered if it were true that there was one before me who had mysteriously disappeared. Where the freak have you been?!? Do you know how much cousin-sitting you owe me!

But anyway... we'll sort that out later... in the mean time... Yes.. nail guns... You know I have a sweet spot for power tools... radial arm saws... reciprocating saws... hammer drills... winches (No Meow!... NOT WENCHES!)... ANYTHING Dremel, especially if you can do dental work with it... tattoo guns... even just a good old Stanley, 16 oz. claw hammer - no cords attached... but someone has made off with my nail gun.... I suspect Betty as he has previously exhibited a proclivity for power staplers, but I cannot be sure... and no... I am not speaking metaphorically... I mean REAL power tools... Makita, Black and Decker, DeWalt... You know I am a complicated girl... dolphin... whatever... And a shop vac... one can never go amiss with a good shop vac... and a 300 psi home air compressor... and impact gun... and a big bathtub of sulfuric acid... but I digress...

And I'm not ashamed of it. I have no skeletons in my closet, mostly because they are either all dissolved or I've put them in Meow's closet (sometimes you just can't save a necroproxy but that's no reason not to take any opportunity to scare the shit of of Meow when he comes home from a bender... or just has a bender at home.... and then goes looking for his favourite smoking jacket. I consider it my duty to scare the living crap out of him as often and deeply as possible, seeing how often he does the same to all of us. It is the only way to keep his twisted psyche in check and frankly, you should all be thanking me... but I digress...

.... Though kudos on getting him all bound up in his sheets.... I told him that satin might be slippery but that it's hell to get unknotted, but...

No one ever listens to the dolphin...
SMO

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Sister Massively Opiated wrote:
No one ever listens to the dolphin...
SMO

That's b/c while you think you're saying words we just hear whirs and clicks.

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Rex!

How odd... It was, in fact, Chartreuse, that horrendous herbal alcoholic beverage, that had a hand in shattering my own little innocent world... I had a job at 15, busing tables in a restaurant/bar, the two of which were separated at the main entrance. Legally, I could bus tables in the restaurant but as it was 1980 in Regina - a time when you could be pulled over for having open beer in your car and only get a '56'... a $56 fine and the humiliation of having to pour your beer down the sewer while the police watched and then sent you on your way without even a breathalyzer test, or checking to see if you were old enough to drive (after all, Regina is very flat and the streets very straight) - if we got busy on the weekend, the managers were only too happy to switch us over to the bar.... and after closing, we would sit around with the bartenders who had committed themselves to finding a mixed drink that I would actually like (I had a slight aversion to almost any alcohol but beer by that point, having already been given what in retrospect must have been alcohol poisoning by way of my youngest aunt, who at less than two years older than me was quite a role model and all my friends being older anyway... so to this day even the smell of rum turns my stomach and it was years before I could go on a tequila bender again)... They went through iterations of almost anything and everything from root beer floats to god knows what and one of them was intensely Chartreuse... the only thing I can liken it to is the smell of Aqua Velva and may very well have contained aftershave, for all I know...

... inevitably they'd eventually just give up and get me stoned...

... which should explain quite a bit, really, if you think about it...

Olé
SMO

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Sister, yes satin sheets are slippery. But do you think that I'd put Meow on satin sheets? Do you think that he'd know after he's given the kitchen wench half my roofies? But since he'd taken your ketamine, he wasn't in shape to be as agreeable to the kitchen wench as the kitchen wench was going to be agreeable to him, and so she smeared him with all the grease she's saved up out of the Fryolater and then we wrapped him up in sheets.

Well, sheets is perhaps to strong a word. Sailcloth is more like it. Yes, sailcloth. That's a good word for it.

And I had meant to tie him up with detonator cord but Bruno, that silly beast, got clothesline instead, and so we had a very greasy Meow tied up in rat-infested burlap the finest sailcloth.

And then because we'd all been trying to get him to the state that we could do that, and as you know Meow has a hollow leg, and another hole where a normal person would have a conscience, we passed out too.

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AbecedariusRex wrote:
Sister Massively Opiated wrote:
No one ever listens to the dolphin...
SMO

That's b/c while you think you're saying words we just hear whirs and clicks.

Das!
SMO

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:Sister, yes satin sheets are slippery. But do you think that I'd put Meow on satin sheets? Do you think that he'd know after he's given the kitchen wench half my roofies? But since he'd taken your ketamine, he wasn't in shape to be as agreeable to the kitchen wench as the kitchen wench was going to be agreeable to him, and so she smeared him with all the grease she's saved up out of the Fryolater and then we wrapped him up in sheets.

Dear Theo,

The ketamine was all his... honest...

Commissar Theocritus wrote:And then because we'd all been trying to get him to the state that we could do that, and as you know Meow has a hollow leg, and another hole where a normal person would have a conscience, we passed out too.

I can only hope you woke before he did...

In any case, I'm off to the doc to get my chesteses checked... gots to make sure I'm getting rid of this bug and I'm never sure until it's good and gone. (NO MEOW... not that bug!... but I'll pick up your 'special cream' for you while I'm at the pharmacy... don't worry... it'll stop hurting when you pee soon and I'm sure the swelling is almost gone as long as you haven't been picking at it again, though no, I won't check for you.)

SMOing now...

In the light of the historic eye-opening article of comrade Petrova I propose to beg The Savior of Russia Tzar Putin to graciously extend his iron fist warm fatherly care over our sorry land. The annexation must be swift and final. I suggest that it start in Alaska, where as an added bonus, comrade Petrova should replace the shameless proponent of capitalism Gov. Palin and become the permanent Red Commissar of Soviet Socialist Gulag of Alaska.

The Texas doctors will need to perform a surgery to attach Putin's head to the body of our beloved Messiah. The transformation must be complete by Jan.20, 2009 to allow the forever thankful proletarians of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics of America (USSRA) to duly rejoice at the inauguration of the truly unique Two in One Leader.

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Stavropol, a two-in-one leader? I thought that the Clintons had been vanquished to outer darkness by their being, well, the Clintons. But have you seen Putin with his shirt off? We may want to keep his body too. Unless there was Soviet-era photo retouching. Which is so much easier now in the days of PS.

Sister, by no means let Meow tell you that he itches down below. It's a ruse. Which he tries <i>even on me.</i>. Think about that. You'd never think it. But come to think of it, he did admit to waking up in Mao's coffin with an empty bottle of booze and a half-empty jar of pain-killers. Although I found out that they were my roofies, which I'd taken from our Many Titted Empress, and why in the name of Lenin Meow had given Mao roofies I'll never know.

This is bothersome, sister, very bothersome. I'm seeing a new side of Meow. And it's even more unattractive than the other ones. Which must beggar belief but there you have it.

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:Sister, a <i>nail gun</i>? Is that not a little extreme? I would expect that of Pupovich, in one of his prolier-than-thou phases. After all, strong Soviet socialism, the triumph of the worker, the rule of the proletariat, and all that stuff. But you?

I'd have thought rather a Water Weasel filled with ammonia. Or ice picks disguised as hair combs.

I'll take the Water Weasel. I've breathed in enough ammonia from my laboratory to make me immune to the stuff (mixed with some concentrated hydrogen peroxide, it's great for dissolving even some of the most stubborn residues). Hell, I even eat the raw skate that is served as a delicacy here in the DPRK. It really clears the sinuses!

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Sister Massively Opiated wrote:and a big bathtub of sulfuric acid...

Now sulfuric acid is something I have on hand, although I do have more nitric. Sure, sulfuric acid burns more and does faster tissue damage, but nitric acid prolongs the pain and suffering...

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Dr. Strangelove, thank you for your suggestion about an ablution solution. I shall try it on the stakes at my next impaling. One the creosote-impregnated ones downwind of Rancho de Rio Grande, though, the ones that I intend to roast Rethglicans on so the smoke will surround the Bu$hitler's house when he returns to Texas. The ones upwind, however, will remain unsullied. Ché Gourmet suggested that they be black cherry wood for that true flavor that we all love.

When I think of roasted Rethuglican, those awful people who are so concentrated on the oppression of the progressive, who think that actions have consequences thereby cutting me out of the loop, my eyes fill with water, and not from the smoke but with tears of solidarity with the proletariat, or those washed ones that is. My insides burst into flame with pride, although it's not quite the same sort of flame that the staked Rethuglicans are feeling.

Dr., since you are such a stalwart party member, I issue you an invitation to Rancho de Rio Grande and as a special honor I'll schedule your visit when our Many Titted Empress is not here. Also when the Chosen One is not here for we are all about 2" shorter when he's here from having our heads walked on.

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A dimethylmercury solution or hydrofluoric acid are better choices for eliminating the less desirables since only a few drops of either are needed and the damage isn't apparent until later. However, make sure not to mix any dimethylmercury-tainted meat into The PartyTM feedstock as it will have undesirable effects. Save it for the prolis as we wouldn't want anything to go to waste, and we can always drum up more votes by blaming it on environmental pollution from industrial waste runoff.

I would be greatly honored to attend the event at Rancho del Rio Grande. Having grown up in Arizona, I rather enjoy mesquite-smoked meat.

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:Sister, by no means let Meow tell you that he itches down below. It's a ruse. Which he tries <i>even on me.</i>. Think about that. You'd never think it. But come to think of it, he did admit to waking up in Mao's coffin with an empty bottle of booze and a half-empty jar of pain-killers. Although I found out that they were my roofies, which I'd taken from our Many Titted Empress, and why in the name of Lenin Meow had given Mao roofies I'll never know.
No Worries Comrade Cousin,

He'd never try that shit on me. Housekeeping washes his undies, and the last time he got out of line, we went out and got those stickymouse traps and... well... no worries...

Commissar Theocritus wrote: This is bothersome, sister, very bothersome. I'm seeing a new side of Meow. And it's even more unattractive than the other ones. Which must beggar belief but there you have it.
And yet we still love him... so what does that say about us, Theo... what does it say about us?

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Sister Massively Opiated wrote:And yet we still love him... so what does that say about us, Theo... what does it say about us?

It says that; like true progressives, my dear; we are tolerant!

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Most Wise Sister and Cousin wrote:And yet we still love him... so what does that say about us, Theo... what does it say about us?

Dr., Sister and I go way back and are very tolerant. Because Meow has a stronger head than either of us and a high pain threshold too, and we have not yet gotten those Swiss bank account numbers.

Once we thought that we had them, and flew to Switzerland hoping to get our rookers on all that lovely lolly and found that they were instead the well-known telephone number of a local phone-sex line. It's hard to tell in Switzerland, even with the Swiss. You know, that's what they say. In heaven the cooks are French, the mechanics German, the police English, the lovers Italian, and the Swiss run everything.

In hell, the cooks are English, the mechanics French, the police German, the lovers Swiss, and the Italians run everything.

In the Progressive World of Next Tuesday, the cooks will be FDA-inspected lunch ladies with hairnets, the mechanics will be assembly-line workers on the AMC Gremlin, the police will be headed by Janet Reno, the lovers will be encased in full-body condoms, and ACORN will run everything.

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:
Most Wise Sister and Cousin wrote:And yet we still love him... so what does that say about us, Theo... what does it say about us?

Dr., Sister and I go way back and are very tolerant. Because Meow has a stronger head than either of us and a high pain threshold too, and we have not yet gotten those Swiss bank account numbers.

See! Yet another use for the nail gun... a nail gun will never go amiss. He does have lovely fingernails though, doesn't he Theocritus?... I've saved them all in a little jar... so well manicured.

Which reminds me... is Bruno available for a pedicure?... for me... not for Bruno...

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Sister Massively Opiated wrote:
Commissar Theocritus wrote:
Most Wise Sister and Cousin wrote:And yet we still love him... so what does that say about us, Theo... what does it say about us?

Dr., Sister and I go way back and are very tolerant. Because Meow has a stronger head than either of us and a high pain threshold too, and we have not yet gotten those Swiss bank account numbers.

See! Yet another use for the nail gun... a nail gun will never go amiss.

She does have a good point (pun intended), Comrade Vlad.

Image

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Doctor, I see that you have found the X-ray from the Reeves County Hospital from the time that Bruno was complaining of head ache. Once Bruno came in and complained to me that Juan, the plantation manager, had threatened to lobotomize him. He blubbered and blubbered and said, through the tears, "Theocritus, what's a lobotomy?"

"Don't worry, Bruno. You have no prefrontal lobes. You're nothing but a walking id in platform shoes with a fruitstand on your hand. Nothing and no one could lobotomize you any more than you could be given a hysterectomy. Which might, on balance, not be a bad idea..."

Sister, Bruno will be very happy to give you a mani/pedi any time that you want. But remember that he was there when we extracted Meow's fingernails gave Meow that manicure that he so desired, and although he's as dim as a 1968 Monsanto LED, he did remember that. Something in his little brain--no prefrontal lobes, you know--always remembers self-adornment.

And, Doctor, when I mentioned that we'd have a chemist come to stay with us at the Rancho, Bruno got very excited and jumped up and down and clapped his hands, which is not a pretty sight. "A chemist! I need someone to tell me what to add to Maybelline to get Clinique. And maybe he can get off that tattoo that I had..."

"Bruno, you know that I told you that you didn't need to have your eyebrows tattooed over in that parlor in Cuña. It's not my fault that you look like a fruit stand riding a fruit bat."

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:"I need someone to tell me what to add to Maybelline to get Clinique. And maybe he can get off that tattoo that I had..."

A little WealthSpreadTM will solve both problems. In fact, it will erase just about any evidence anything faster than you can say, "Out, damned spot!"

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Dr. Strangelove wrote:
Commissar Theocritus wrote:"I need someone to tell me what to add to Maybelline to get Clinique. And maybe he can get off that tattoo that I had..."

A little WealthSpreadTM will solve both problems. In fact, it will erase just about any evidence anything faster than you can say, "Out, damned spot!"

"Out damn'd spot! out I say!"... no peeing in the house, and let go of those slippers!.... that's the last time I name a dog Duncan...

Hey!... Isn't Bruno 'not born of woman?... hmmm

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Sister Massively Opiated wrote:
Dr. Strangelove wrote:
Commissar Theocritus wrote:"I need someone to tell me what to add to Maybelline to get Clinique. And maybe he can get off that tattoo that I had..."

A little WealthSpreadTM will solve both problems. In fact, it will erase just about any evidence anything faster than you can say, "Out, damned spot!"

"Out damn'd spot! out I say!"... no peeing in the house, and let go of those slippers!.... that's the last time I name a dog Duncan...

Hey!... Isn't Bruno 'not born of woman?... hmmm

Yet who would have thought the old dog to have had so much piss in him?

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Just <i>why</i> did you two start talking about dogs named Duncan and Lady McBeth? Bruno has now taken to walking around the house in his, or on his, platform shoes, singing, "Maybe this time...I can make it...maybe this time I'll win..." and then oddly enough segueing into

"Maybelline, she is all they claim
With her eyes of night and lips as bright as flame
Maybelline, when she dances by, senoritas stare and caballeros sigh
And I've seen toasts to Maybelline"

Which sounds really strange coming out in Sinatra's voice.

It's just when he sits on that chair under a spotlight, wearing a bowler hat that I realize that he was not born of woman. He was born of Liza Minelli. And perhaps those birch woods be come to Dunsinane if I have to carry the goddamned spikes there on my own aching back.


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Sorry. I'll try to be more gentle...or are you being coy again?

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Mmmm... Koi...

The dolphin likes....

But the dolphin must also sleep... now...

Sister Massively Opiated (and sedated)...

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Citizen's

What are you smoking, and will you share?



Publius

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Publius, I am not smoking. I live in a miasma of insanity which emanates in waves from Bruno. I keep trying to give him away. Once I took him to Needless Markup in Dallas with $500 in cash and said I'd be back in two hours. Instantly I hurried back to the Ranch. Since he can't find his way out of anything, except of course a closet, I figured I'd be safe, with him stalking the aisles of Needless Markup until the ghost of Stanley Marcus came back and kicked him out onto Commerce Street.

But he beat me home. He's a homing queen. That's the worst sort.

And the reason that I'm massively pissed at Meow is that he promised to relieve me of Bruno, and took my money, and slipped me five of my own Loretabs, and while I was out, very out, took off with my Lalique, the money, and Bruno was still there.

Oh, Meow will pay. He'll pay. And since that time my only solace is very bad parodiorthosis.

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Theo,

Publius is new, no?... He doesn't know our little family... Does he understand Meow's pathological decadence?... Or how The Dead Red Queen has saddled you with Bruno?... Or that I'm a navy-trained cetacean escapee of Katrina, now making a living in the Saint Lawrence with my pod?... clearly not... Nor does he know that I'm a morphine addict, that you do a booming trade in diazepenes of various types (mostly to keep Bruno calm... it might help if you explained that rather than vintage, scarfing Valium with his Rob Roys is really just cheesily passé, but then, on second thought, it'd probably just trigger a crying jag... never mind...)... and that Meow will profiteer in almost any situation, which is often his downfall because he tends to sample his own wares a little too often, as well as bogarting everyone else's...

Simply knowing that Meow spikes his cognac with ketamine might explain the whole thing...

I'm not sure our explaining our various roles within the party would necessarily help, except to say that much of my own pain is driven by having to perpetually clean up after Meowsevitch and get him out of whatever scrape he's gotten himself into, and that your role as Director of Unanimous Caring, Compassion, Backstabbing and Impaling for the Common Good™ (formerly Conspicuous Caring, &tc. &tc.) and my duties as Kommissar of Housekeeping, Disappearances, Composting, Dissection & Limo Services often overlap...

Or we could just get him stoned on Meow's cognac, and have a Limo pick him up and drop him off at your place so that Bruno could style his hair... As it's Friday, it's your pick... Just let me know, though personally, I don't like that 'citizens' remark...

Sister Massively Opiated.

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Citizen's,

The term "citizen" predates the term "comrade" by several thousand years. Check your Greek and/or Roman history. You will see that I am no revolutionary, "Johnny come lately!" I refuse to change my vocabulary just to be trendy! If I have offended you, then I am pleased, very pleased!

Publius

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Theo...

An INDIVIDUAL!... WINNAH WINNAH WINNAH!

Dispatching a Limo as we speak, and just when I had no necroproxies to process...

Publius, we do not use 'comrade' or our titles to be 'trendy'... trend implied impermanence and the rightness of our Kollektive is unquestionable and unchanging. We take our orders from our Glorious Incarnadine Trapezoid Leader, Red Square. This is no demokracy... we are mindless drones driven by fear. Memes at best... We have been indoktrinated into an understanding of ancient history (was only just discussing Hattusas with Theo), and we know that the mirage of quasi-demokracy represented by the Roman hegemony (Pax my ass) was valuable only for whatever forced homogeneity (such that it was... financial and legal, if not kultural) it managed to instill in its 'citizens', and for its publik works...

Here at the Cube we 'encourage' homogeneity and publik works without the annoyance of kultural diversity and individualism (except where it is required for political correctness)... We are The Peoples Cube... You are a citizen... an individual... it is anathema... we must crush your spirit...

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Sister, I just had some dealings with Wells Fargo's home-mortgage division and I'm quite sure that one of the people I was dealing with there is turned on in the morning by her computer and not the other way around. I suspect from her work that her monitor is on a bungee cord so that her swiveling eyes can follow it.

Therefore, ergo, and that is why I think that Publius may need a little <i>education</i>, which we so specialize in. Or you specialise in. Or Bruno just stares vacantly at.

I think that the hair-styling would be very appropriate.

Sister, I had a thought. We could arrange various stages of punishment for misbehaving party members.

For a minor infraction, having to dig an extra day or so in the beet and potato fields. This is for say not spitting after saying the name "Bush."

For a worse sin, having Bruno do your hair. This would be for watching Faux News.

Next up would be giving a pedicure to Our Many Titted Empress. This is for a horrible infraction, such as not spreading Socialism as much as possible, leaving money in someone else's bank account, or not groveling to me.

Or Sister.

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My cetacean Sister wrote:we must crush your spirit...

This is, of course, Publius, until you prove your worth.

Which will be the retrieval of Meow's Swiss bank account numbers. And don't let him give you that phone-sex-line number like he gave me.

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:
My cetacean Sister wrote:we must crush your spirit...

This is, of course, Publius, until you prove your worth.

Which will be the retrieval of Meow's Swiss bank account numbers. And don't let him give you that phone-sex-line number like he gave me.

he did me worse...the numbers he gave me were to a trust fund account at a financial holding institution in Nigeria...f***ing joker, Meow!!!!!

*shakes fist*

I may be a Private these days, but I still have my Field Marshal sk33lz!!

...and a certain Navy Special Forces dolphin to back me up

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:Sister, I just had some dealings with Wells Fargo's home-mortgage division and I'm quite sure that one of the people I was dealing with there is turned on in the morning by her computer and not the other way around. I suspect from her work that her monitor is on a bungee cord so that her swiveling eyes can follow it.

Therefore, ergo, and that is why I think that Publius may need a little <i>education</i>, which we so specialize in. Or you specialise in. Or Bruno just stares vacantly at.

I think that the hair-styling would be very appropriate.

Sister, I had a thought. We could arrange various stages of punishment for misbehaving party members.

[HIGHLIGHT=#ffff00]For a minor infraction, having to dig an extra day or so in the beet and potato fields. This is for say not spitting after saying the name "Bush."
[/HIGHLIGHT]
For a worse sin, having Bruno do your hair. This would be for watching Faux News.

Next up would be giving a pedicure to Our Many Titted Empress. This is for a horrible infraction, such as not spreading Socialism as much as possible, leaving money in someone else's bank account, or not groveling to me.

Or Sister.
um I didn't know there were any more "extra" days available....24/7/365 not enough??? we need The Chosen One to create an extra weekday...hmmm what to name it....Barakday? A day set aside completely for Toiling In His Name

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What about another month? July is after Julius Caesar; August after Augustus. Which is why September (Latin septem, seven) is the 9th month. And so forth.

We can call Barack Month 0.

Or what an extra hour in a new clock. It can be 25 o'Barack.

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Citizen Theocritus,

The One already has a holiday to celebrate his birth, it is commonly called Christmas by the masses, but is more properly known as Obamas. I think a whole month to celebrate his existance would be a little too much. We must remember that Stalin, the father, settled for having a city named in his honor!


Publius

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Sister Massively Opiated wrote:... a nail gun will never go amiss. He does have lovely fingernails though, doesn't he Theocritus?... I've saved them all in a little jar... so well manicured.

I have a documented image of this:

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Did pro-Obama manicures sway the 2008 election?

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My god. How could I have missed this? The crucial <i>nail-polish-blogging demographic</i>.

And all that time I thought that people might, quite by mistake, think that the McCain's time in a prison camp meant something. And all the time it was <i>nail-polish blogging</i>.

Mon dieu.

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Theo,

The funny thing is... Those are Meow's nails... Red was being absolutely serious.... Poor Meow.

And yes, The Comrade Private Pravda formerly known at Prin.. as Field Marshall... I shall always have your back, just as I shall always have Meow's nails (and shortly, those bank account numbers... he is weakening... every afternoon he begins to sob and mummble, "Victor... Victor..."... he's clearly going through The Young and the Restless withdrawal... heheheheheh... Hahahah.... HAHAHAH... Theo! We have him!... I've told him that if he's good, I'll let him see all the episodes he's missed since we borrowed him, on the Tivo... a ruse, as I only record Animal Planet shows, but one he will not find out about until he cracks, and he is close... Poor Meow... )... but I digress...

Sorry.... Pravda... you will always be Field Marshal S.A.F. to me and I have carefully maintained you service weapon for when you return... which reminds me... I will shortly have some fotos of a recent kitting out and training session that Aki underwent on some of the new armaments... he accidentally shot a Canadian Coast Guard human, but it is of no consequence... they hadn't accurately calibrated his flipper-eye controls, and although he was slightly embarrassed, we gave him some extra Vodka rations and all's well that ends well... also, we've finally managed to instill in him the understanding that he must allow the soft humans to clear the firing range before he begins target practice and that they are not meant to be shot... He really is growing up so fast. He melon-butted a police diver the other day... such a mischievous calf... ahhh...

Oh!... and we hit a Russian submarine... there was some garbage on the news about them having a fire or some such rubbish, but that was our Aki... those self-adhering mines were a wonderful find... I will have to thank our Pointy Red Foxy friend when he next comes to demonstrate his wares... That will show Putin that he cannot lend his subs to help protect the Japanese whaling fleet and not feel our wrath! Booyah!

Okay... off to chase some herring... mmmm.... herring... and then play with Meow some more... though I've tried to teach the boys not to play with their food, but you know young dolphins... Poor Meow...

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Dear Sister, when I hear you say "Poor Meow" it sends shivers up and down my spine, which as you know is not that much good. I have infinite brass check and even a good brass neck but not that much spine. But I am never slow to slug someone when I can get away with it, making me the perfect warrior for the Progressive World of Next Tuesday.

"Poor Meow." You are never more frightening than when you play at being compassionate. We all know the value of compassion in these circles--nice guys finish last and I spell last as d-e-a-d. But it's good press. Why once I sent a tape of you being compassionate to Al Franken and he soiled himself wondering if he could ever step into your shoes, or what passes for shoes under the waves.

But do you think you're up to Rahm Emanuel? I'm told that he pulls his own teeth.

Commissar Theocritus wrote:But I am never slow to slug someone when I can get away with it, making me the perfect warrior for the Progressive World of Next Tuesday.


I hope you at least use a baseball bat or something. When you can get away with something, you must take advantage of it to the max!

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Image
Did pro-Obama manicures sway the 2008 election?


All Hussies shall henceforth wear this manicure!

I just love this comment left on subject blog by someone named Pinky (no relation):

The true brilliancy here was the fact that Obama's campaign had a definitive slogan and a specific symbol. The Republicans lacked both which just showed how disorganized their campaign was.

HA! Substance is dead, comrades. DEAD! Those idiot Republicans will never figure out that all one needs to win an election is a catchy slogan, a snazzy logo, and a pretty face. THOSE are The Real Issues. Anything else is just a petty distraction, if not downright racist.

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Of course, Pinkie, of course. "We are the ones we have been waiting for!"

I have always taken that to be the sign ultimate sexual liberation but in a purely onomastic sense, which when you think of it perfectly describes the Obama campaign.

And come to think of it, it perfectly describes the Obama campaign in an onanastic sense too.

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:Dear Sister, when I hear you say "Poor Meow" it sends shivers up and down my spine, which as you know is not that much good. I have infinite brass check and even a good brass neck but not that much spine. But I am never slow to slug someone when I can get away with it, making me the perfect warrior for the Progressive World of Next Tuesday.

"Poor Meow." You are never more frightening than when you play at being compassionate. We all know the value of compassion in these circles--nice guys finish last and I spell last as d-e-a-d. But it's good press. Why once I sent a tape of you being compassionate to Al Franken and he soiled himself wondering if he could ever step into your shoes, or what passes for shoes under the waves.

But do you think you're up to Rahm Emanuel? I'm told that he pulls his own teeth.

Twas more along the lines of A Room With A View's, "Pooooor Charlotte..."... We all know he will forever be getting into these scrapes because of who he is... Pity and compassion are to different things, Mein Director Thereof... both Conspicuous Compassion AND Impalement... One and the same, perhaps?


 
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