I have just returned from my two-week-plus trip eating my fool head off eating only fair-trade, totally organic food, staying in swank places camping overnight in youth hostels and sometimes even mission houses, while doing whatever pleased me and nothing more inspecting the working conditions of the bums homeless, layabouts people disposed by society, and the howling loonies citizens unable to bear the horrors of the Bush Terror.

And I find that the outside of Rancho de Rio Grande is in pristine condition. Therefore I congratulate Marshal Pupovich on his work to clean up my dacha from the work of the talent-shitting birds.

And nothing is missing on the inside. But there's one thing. Two of my favorite pieces of blown glass have swapped places.

And I have a very eerie sensation of being watched.

Hmmm, you are right to be suspicious. Take a close look around; are there deep dents in the carpet from the furniture legs? Is there any dust on the furniture or mantlepiece? If you examine your surroundings very carefully, I think you'll find that your entire dacha has been removed and replaced with a near-exact duplicate. This is the work of a cunning, malevolent being or beings. Lies have been told. Bags of cash have been passed. Nonchalantly, you must go and measure the exterior and interior dimensions of your abode and do a reality check; a room that is say, a foot or so smaller than it should be may suggest a fake wall is involved. Who or what may be hiding there? Do they have vodka and chips? There are more questions than answers.

You are fucked Commissar. Pupovich will not pass up an opportunity like this. Let me tell you I know Comrade Pupovich. His neo-falangist hit squads have been on my tail for years now and he never relents. Never!

Let me assure you Commissar that you will never find the cameras and various recording devices and transmitters he has placed in your humble dacha. Next time you decide to enjoy some Party-approved non-heterofacist group fun, he will be watching. And recording. I know that sexual behavior like that is approved and even encouraged by the Party but for some reason a recording of it can get you in trouble. I guess there are still some remnants of bourgeois sentiment around. So be careful comrade. Burn your dacha to the ground NOW!

Comrades, I know the wisdom of your words, but <i>I cannot</i>. Do you know how long I worked to get just <i>that</i> shade of eggplant in the kitchen? The trips to Dallas to get the blue sodalite? I got four of the six quarry slabs in that block and I am not waiting another 50 million years before the earth makes some more.

....Note. Bruno. Bruno! Get on the blower and ask the O'ly See if he can conjure up some more sodalite just like the stuff that I have...

But, Criminally Insane Kommissar Vodkov, if I may be so bold, what makes you think there are any fun things in the house? I'll never be in the mood again because of a memory.

About a month ago, our Many Titted Empress was out here, crying in her virgins' blood. "Theocritus," she snuffled. "The people have rejected me as their ultimate ruler. What shall I do?"

"Empress! Empress! You are beloved by all." I kicked Bruno under the table and whispered furiously, "Quit giggling <i>now</i>, you silly queen or I'll burn your Joan Collins wig."

Our MTE didn't hear Bruno, and so I persevered. "Empress, everyone loves you."

She pulled her head up out of her trotters, and gave me a weak smile. "You think so, dear Theocritus?"

"Of course, Majesty."

"I'll be right back."

After 15 minutes of loud noises and curses in the other room, in returned our Many Titted Empress, wearing nothing, <i>nothing</i>, but a pair of crotchless panties.

"I'll change your luck, Theo. Want some of this?"

"My lord no! Look what it did to your panties!"

I set an Olympic record.

That image would be enough to frighten anyone, Commissar!! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to the doctor to see why I'm going blind.

I heard that happened when Our Many Titted Empress was having a business meeting with Vince Foster, and you know the results of that one.

OK OK Theocritus. You can't bear parting with your material possessions. The Party can certainly understand that. Who of us would want to lose our dachas or mansions? I suggest you call the KGB Technical & Explosives division immediately and ask them to set off a gigantic EM pulse in your dacha. This is SOP when getting rid of Pup's listening devices which can't be found using the People's technology.

I could of course have Bruno sing "Tico, Tico" for a few hours. That ought to do it.

Or play "Lady of Spain" on the accordian.

Komrade Zarkof wrote:That image would be enough to frighten anyone, Commissar!! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to the doctor to see why I'm going blind.

It is likely hysterical blindness Er, I mean it is likely your mind cannot cope with the wondrousness and wonderfulosity of the MTE in all her glory. You must go and look at some pictures of Laura Bush-Hitler in order to come down off of your.... high.

In my little story above I forgot to mention our MTE's dulcet tones: she sounded like a buzz saw going through a rusty nail in an oak board.

Commissar, all is as it was intended! Do not pay attention to any of these far flung suggestions being fed to you by questionable, may I even say, Criminally Insane sources. Especially that ridiculous one about the house being somehow. magically replaced with built in bugs and cameras. I mean, how ridiculous can one get? I am confident that should you notice some discrepancy in the floor plan, widths etc, it would be due to minor earth tremors or some such natural cause. Oh, did I forget to mention that I like accordion music?

Ah, Pupovich, so you like accordion music. I have a treat for you. I have just looked for a few things in the house that ought to have been there--some stashed roofies, for example--and they weren't there.

So you are invited to a barbecue at the Rancho and as entertainment Bruno will entertain you on the accordion with not only "Lady of Spain" but transcriptions of Strauss Waltzes and finally his 30-minute bravura rendition of Streisand singing "People" and "Memories" while reading, or trying to read, his patter from a TelePromTer.

And you will be presented to your special guest: Rosie O'Donnell, who will bring her own arc welder.

Commissar Theocritus wrote:I heard that happened when Our Many Titted Empress was having a business meeting with Vince Foster, and you know the results of that one.

Her Majesty does learn from her mistakes faux pas. Suffice it to say that the Bill Richardson who went to Washington in November is not the same fellow who threw himself under the bus recently. This time, there was no need to dismantle the computers in the middle of the night as there was nothing to investigate.

PS: A word to the wise; if you order pizza in the near future, take care not to talk directly into the pepperoni. Trust me on this one.

Opiate, after seeing the parts of Our Many Titted Empress' body that the crotchless panties revealed, I shall never again order pizza in my life.

Nor oatmeal.

Comrade Opiate,

After being forced to give Nancy her afternoon herbal enema, there's only so much a humble Comrade can endure. Even wearing goggles, you can still see plenty!!

If the sight of our Beloved MTE startles Commissar Theocritus, then that's all I need to know about her wearing crotchless panties.

And why would I have to look at Laura Bush (the wife of Evil incarnate) when there are so many women here on the Collective farm and at the Party Pleasure Palace??

Comrade Theocritus....thanks for taking one for the party. Glad it was your equipment and not mine (or Bill's for that matter). Truly a hero in the mold of the Great Patriotic conflict.

Extra beet rations for Theo....all in favor say "da"......

Yo this be th' promoshun fer Pupovich? What comes afta Marshul?

Marxist, I said pardon, not promotion. I am still of the opinion that his is a brevet promotion that he did himself after shooting some party members, forging notes from them, and back dating them.

Not to worry, though; Pupovich will soil himself again. It's in the nature of things.

For at the Collective you can never be too loyal or to giving.

Or too secure.

Commissar Theocritus wrote:Marxist, I said pardon, not promotion. I am still of the opinion that his is a brevet promotion that he did himself after shooting some party members, forging notes from them, and back dating them.

Not to worry, though; Pupovich will soil himself again. It's in the nature of things.

For at the Collective you can never be too loyal or to giving.

Or too secure.

Commissar, it breaks my heart that you still cling to such rumors when my promotion to Commissar and then to Marshal is a matter of public record, and conferred upon me by the Glorious Red Cube himself.

In fact, with my most recent method of Contribution Collection, I would not be surprised if I were not promoted even higher. Witness the sheer beauty and effectiveness of my "Contribution Lift™!"


The system is simple. Contributers are loaded at the bottom of the lift. Those who we feel make an adequate contribution and are felt capable of further contributions, are returned to the starting point from whence they may return to their collective. Those whose contributions are inadequate, or for what ever reason is decided they are of no further use, are deposited at the top where a Special Camp collects them.

Marshal, you almost had me convinced until the "Contribution Lift™" icon shows merely a question mark.

This is like paying a bill with an unsigned check.

My guess is that the false marshal Pupovich has in his possession some compromising photographs of comrade Red Square. Nothing else would explain his inexplicable promotion.

That might do it. I wonder if Red Square was caught attending--shudder--a Rethuglican rally.

Or if he is, God forfend, on the mailing list of <i>National Review</i>.

Commissar Theocritus wrote:Marshal, you almost had me convinced until the "Contribution Lift™" icon shows merely a question mark.

This is like paying a bill with an unsigned check.

A most unfortunate circumstance, a consequence of me posting from my daytime headquarters, where sometimes outside interference from the forces of the non-progressives interfere with communications. The situation has been corrected above, along with a brief addition to explain how the system works.

I see you and the former Criminally Insane Commissar have cozied up. Most unfortunate that you would seem to agree with him that the Glorious Red Square promoted me as a result of something I had on him. Most untrue! Red Square is the epitome of Pure Progressiveness. I am anxious to "bury the hatchet" with our old comrade who has been awol lately. Perhaps when I return to my dacha I will be able to take some more time.

Pupovich, dear Pupovich. When will you learn never to say "bury the hatchet" with a progressive?

Now I won't turn my back on you for even one second.

Sorry.

The only question is whether Pupovich was referring to our heads or backs when he mentioned that he wanted to "bury the hatchet."

Commissar Theocritus wrote:Pupovich, dear Pupovich. When will you learn never to say "bury the hatchet" with a progressive?

Now I won't turn my back on you for even one second.

Sorry.

Why Commissar, perhaps if I said "bury the ice axe?" But then we have nothing but trust between us, I have no reason to even mention such a thing in regard to us. So how do you like my Contribution Lift now that you can see it in operation? It works wonderfully, and it is easy to spot even the smallest contribution lying on that snow.

Kommissar Vodkov wrote:The only question is whether Pupovich was referring to our heads or backs when he mentioned that he wanted to "bury the hatchet."

Kommissar, so wonderful to see you again....after so long and unexplained absence. But it is my hope and sincere desire that this time off has helped you to heal from your previously insane thinking. Perhaps it would be helpful for you to come over and have a drink with me sometime?

Rehabilitated Vodkov, the Marshal is very accommodating. If you have a drink with him, but I'd limit it to one, maybe he will show you <i>the</i> ice axe.

It still has some of Trotsky's blood on it.

Marshall, I have carefully avoided telling Our Many Titted Empress about that, for you know that she would want to use it to stir her Virgins' Bloody Marys.

OK I might be willing to have a drink with you Pupovich but only in a public place where my snipers can see you - just in case. Maybe it's time we bury the hatchet and start working together promoting progressive future for The Children™. Can you ask Pinkie if she wants to provide entertainment? She won't talk to me for some reason. No idea why.

Kommissar Vodkov, have your people get in touch with my people, and I am sure we can arrange something that will provide us with the security we both value so highly. However, as for your request, "Can you ask Pinkie if she wants to provide entertainment?", I would not touch that with a 10 foot pole. Fortunately I have an 11 foot pole in my office so we shall see.

Commissar Theocritus wrote:Rehabilitated Vodkov, the Marshal is very accommodating. If you have a drink with him, but I'd limit it to one, maybe he will show you <i>the</i> ice axe.

It still has some of Trotsky's blood on it.

Marshall, I have carefully avoided telling Our Many Titted Empress about that, for you know that she would want to use it to stir her Virgins' Bloody Marys.

As you have no doubt noticed, I have mellowed with my advancement to high office. It makes it easier to be more accommodating to less equals knowing one has staff to count on for denunciations etc.

You can be certain Commissar that I would never allow my treasured ice axe to be tainted by the Empress.... especially now that she is a mere secretary... who still has failed to bring the Chairman and I's coffee and cookies.