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"Thank You Sucker" Motivational Currency Replaces Dollar

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:Otdel, I think that is a mistake. It is well known that primitives used a form of mind control that was very successful. For example, the Australian aborigines would take young boys and put them in a cave and subject them to a very low and monotonous beating of a drum and a chanting of their local lore--fables of gods and things which were really the landmarks that they needed to survive. Where to go for water as they migrated.

After a few days of this they knowledge would be sealed in by slicing a large cut into their penises, which through a psychological trick sealed in the knowledge which was needed for survival.

If you and Sasha watch enough television it will put you into that mind-numbed state where you will absorb like a sponge all the writings of Marx or L. Ron Hubbard or Noam Chomsky. And to seal in the knowledge, it's TV to the rescue again--the Slapchop commercial.

Slapchop is a Vegematic. You put a vegetable under it and whack it and it makes chopped vegetables, demonstrated with Vince's trademarked squint.

Do not forget that Comrad Squint er Vince can throw the 'other brand' over his shoulder without looking and have it land in the sink. Truly a versatile individual. One worthy of emulation and admiration. (Psst please note that comrade Vince is always hooked up to the mother ship via his comunication device which I understand he wears even to bed)
As I understand it there are sunglasses out there that woud allow you to see Comrad Vince in a different light. (See Rowdy Roddie for further on this)
Perhaps Comrad Vince is aware that with the newly printed and minted Obamessiah Money (Not found on store shelves everywhere but only availble through TV)
We can slap chop and shamwow to our hearts content.
It is good to see the collective content. It means the drugs are working.
I also saw one of the thought police (Secret Agent Lambchowder) is on the case surveilling the Cube for important information to take back to the 'One'. Toe the line Comrades Toe the line. While your doing that please say your ABC's backwards starting with G. oops sorry carried away there. Nevermind.

Comrades,
Can we please focus on the topic at hand? The Messiah has been sent forth to bring our most fruitful dreams to fruition! Alas, Elvis and Tupac will return to serve by His Excellency's side, and we may watch as our children, and our children's children walk hand-in-hand with seals and polar bears! No longer will we suffer a day that tires our brains and bodies! No longer will those ruffians from Pennsylvania threaten us with their guns and religion! Utopia, friends! Utopia!

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Fraulein, I refer you to Red Star. He is the Commissar in charge of rainbow-farting unicorns and he will see to these happy prospects.

Let us never forget that the lion will lie down with the lamb. And make chowder of it.

Oh, thank PETA! And you too, Red Star!

But might I say, as a woman I am shocked and disturbed that I am not equally represented on the new motivational TYS notes. Am I not collecting the same welfare check as my male peers???!?! Because I am a woman, do I need no motivation to crush the capitalist oppressors who urge me to sacrifice myself to the corporate machine?!?!? I propose in addition to the hammer and sickle that Comrade Red add a symbol of my feminine power to the Thank You Sucker; perhaps an Oscillating Pleasure Seeker!!

In the name of The Messiah, Czarina Clinton, and MADD, I shall cut off my hair and throw out my razors!

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I DENOUNCE FRAULEIN ALYSSA FOR INCORRECT ADHERENCE TO DOUBLESPEAK!

Not to force labels on you or anything, but in an effort to raise you to a more equal glory not so tainted by DWEMs, the oppressive "woman" has been replaced by "womyn". Furthermore, Our Many Titted Empress is easily agitated and I don't believe the Rancho del Rio Grande can withstand another one of her rampages. You see, Comrade Nanners and Our MTE are hanging out there with Comrade Commissar Theocritus and I'm not sure how she would respond to the title of Czarina.

Conversely, I congratulate from dispensing with your shackles that came in the form of razors! No longer must proles be bound to hygiene in an effort to gain headway in the workplace with WAGs. I also congratulate you for making this place less of a sausage fest. I bet Comrade Commissarka Pinkie will say hi... *diabolical laughter*. Just keep your unwashed masses away from The Brain in the Jar.

AND DON'T FORGET TO BRING YOUR SHOVEL!!

-Obamissar Vodkavich
Obamissar of Gulags and Car Wash Products

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Fraulein, were we to put an oscillating pleasure seeker on the TYS bill, we would have to pay a royalty to Dick Morris.

Vodkavich, you don't know the half of it with Nanners and Our Many Titted Empress here. When they arrived two days ago the Rancho was in perfect order. Now there is not a single square foot of the lawn which isn't covered by either a beer can, a can of 3-in-1 oil for lubricating the Hildo Hydra, or empty wallets.

Nanners has been going in for sport shoplifting. There isn't a single pocket unpicked along the Rio Grande. She's incredibly good at it--after all, who would suspect her? she looks like five plumbers' friends joined at the suckers, with a fright wig on top. But boy can woman filch a wallet.

The last time she was here, she and Meow had a pocket-picking contest. And SHE WON. I have seen Meow steal the tattoo off a man's chest. Admittedly he was passed out, but he did not wake up. But Nanners can walk down the street, her eyes rolling, and people sitting on the top floor of a skyscraper suddenly have no money for lunch.

Our Many Titted Empress was also having some fun at Bruno's expense. Every time he'd venture out of the house, she'd snort, and dig her hooves, all four of them, into the yard. Talk about divots. She'd lunge toward him like a razorback hog, and chase him into the pool. Then she and Nanners would laugh until they peed.

That was when the vultures shrieked and left.

Now Bruno won't come out of the closet, if you can imagine, and I can no longer fool myself into thinking that I can send him on an errand and have moved by the time he gets back.

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:But boy can woman filch a wallet(...)

Now Bruno won't come out of the closet, if you can imagine, and I can no longer fool myself into thinking that I can send him on an errand and have moved by the time he gets back.

Comrade Commissar,

My deepest regrets for the destruction of the Rancho. If only my proles knew more than wax on/wax of... I can indeed imagine that Bruno won't come out of the closet. I suspect that if you suggest to him that Nanners wants to FELCH his wallet instead of the FILCHING, he might be more interested. Perhaps I'll redirect Gleis 54 toward the Rancho to assist in Hildo maintenance and yard repair.

-OV

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a can of 3-in-1 oil for lubricating the Hildo Hydra, or empty wallets.

Theo, why not stop in at the Stalin Storehouse for a case of GENUINE OBAMA BRAND SNAKE OIL? It will both lube the Hydra and empty the wallet in one easy step.

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Who renamed my Hildo "The Stimulus Bill"?
This has nothing to do with Bill. This was supposed to be my moment,
He had his cigars, I was to get my $787B Hildo and now it's named after him?
All the years, all the work....the design, the engineering, and the shoddy production at the Rancho.....now it's up and working and it's called "The Stimulus Bill"?
The specs orginally called for diesel lubrication and it's been changed to BOSO.
How long before we run out of snakes?
Can somebody answer that?
This is going to get us into a war for snake oil!
No illegal war for BOSO. No Blood for Big Snake Oil!

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Vodkavich, I told Bruno that Nanners would indeed felch him and he did show some interest. But then an idea entered his head, which happens every other full moon, and he squealed, "Those <i>teeth</i> Theocritus, those <i>teeth</i>!"

"I know, Bruno, but you know how much time she spends sucking them. Practice, you know."

I left him perplexed. Like when he is trying to read the instructions on pouring a Coke.

Ivan, why did you conjure up Our Many Titted Empress? She's very protective of the Hildo Hydra 7.3; when she gets drunk on Virgins' Bloody Marys she has been known to sleep with it. Once Bruno woke up and screamed, "Theocritus! It's an earthquake! Run!"

I turned on the light and the bedside table was shaking. I gulped and threw on some clothes and started out of the house.

As I passed the door of the wet room--the one with the 3-degree slant toward the center with the drain, and all plastic furniture on concrete for easy disinfecting, I noticed that the door on it was vibrating like a tympanum. I gingerly touched it; it was hot. I opened it with the tail of my shirt and peered inside.

It was Our Many Titted Empress, who had plugged the Hildo into the three-phase socket remaining after I removed the HVAC unit. Sparks were flashing and there was the smell of burnt flesh. But Our Empress had a smile on her face, a smile as big as the one she had when she said, "Theocritus, when I get Socialized Medicine I'll have people licking my trotters for an aspirin."

Frankly I don't know if diesel or BOSO are enough. Glycerine suspended in axle grease.

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Ivan, why did you conjure up Our Many Titted Empress? She's very protective of the Hildo Hydra 7.3;

I meant well, and that's the important thing. What happens as a result of my actions bears no consequence. Seems to me it's somebody else's problem now.

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You'd better stake out some territory other than while heterosexual male for if you are one of those things, and I repress a shudder, it's your fault.

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Comrade Commissar Theo- Now I have something peaceful to think about when I'm trying to fall asleep, not unlike the people who have recently described falling asleep with visions of THE Obamas falling asleep in the Black House.

-OV

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Obamissar, did you mean this?

One woman wrote that when she couldn't get to sleep at night, she “lay in bed and thought about the Obama girls in their rooms at the White House. I thought about Marian Robinson up on the third floor. And about Barack and Michelle, a couple who clearly have a ‘thing' for each other, spooning together in bed. It helped me relax.”

You see, the government has certain--ahem--needs, and you simply must endure it because it's your duty. The best way is to simply lie back bend over, close your eyes, and think of the Obamas.


And how about some purple prose to go along with those purple lips?

“I dreamed I was an Obama girl. I had a chance to be in the same room with him for the first time. There were dark velvet chairs and he was standing there with all this dark and mist around him. His lips so purple and sensuous as if to be otherworldly,” she wrote to me.




 
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