Comrades, it is with a heavy heart, and a very red one it is too, that I must denounce Comrade Tooorisky.

First because I don't like having to type three os in a row. It hurts the manicure, but there is a more serious charge. And when I say that there is something more serious than offending my tender progressive sensibilities, you'd better sit up and notice. After all, I have taken lessons from Jodin Morey on how stick my head so far up my ass that I can french-kiss my tonsils. So if there is something which is more important than little old moi, you'd better believe that it's a big deal.

Tooorisky was at the Rancho de Rio Grande the other day. Bruno was in one of his moods, which are becoming so frequent that I'm wondering if neutering would improve things. (N.B. to Theocritus: ask our Many Titted Empress if the cover given by neutering the dog Buddy was enough to hide the neutering of Bill.) And there was that issue of the mixture of Nair and naphtha used to clean up after Nanski had come down. Really, an older and more experienced comrade than Tooorisky might have handled it.

But since I'm always willing to go the extra kilometer to help someone, especially if he's walking in front of me and I can see his back, I thought that I'd help Tooorisky. So while he was at the Rancho I took him to a local restaurant for luncheon.

He sat there and in good form we fine tuned our lies. Musicians start tuning up with the oboe, the oldest instrument, playing an A, and from that the orchestra tunes.

We progressives start with, “As is well known…,” which Big Lie we all know comes from the Mother Country. We both started out, laughing, “As is well known…” and then we winked and hooked pinkie fingers. I knew in my heart of hearts that I had found a Prog after my own heart: nasty, cruel, mean, shallow, selfish, entitled, and so self-righteous that the shade of Mother Teresa begs his pardon.

Ah, the conversation. The plans that we had to tell people that they could not indeed have control over the food that they buy. That they couldn't have control over the drugs that they buy. That they couldn't have control over the services they buy. They couldn't have control over the people they associated with. They couldn't have control over raising their children. They couldn't have control over their own bank accounts.

It was going on so very well until Tooorisky asked, “Theocritus, I know that I am a callow stripling, but why are we planning what we have already done?”
~
The world went dark. “How,” I thought, “can this mere tyro understand the immensity of our intention of doing these things? Has he never heard the Moaning Murderous Moonbat Mike Malloy read a manifesto signed by Cindy Sheehan? Ah, the glories of their demands to reshape the world to suit them better when they cannot see to washing their own pubes. I'm a great believer in the Special Olympics for Thinking, or SOT. But that's another story.

“Tooorisky!” I thundered, shocking the other diners into nearly falling off the polyurethane-coated benches, which they would have done had the benches been clean, “Whatever has gotten into you? Do you not know that we spend endless amount of time reading manifestos, declaiming our virtue, and denouncing others? It beats the hell out of working, you know. So why should you question the tradition?”

“Comrade,” Tooorisky stuttered, his eyes downcast. “Pardon me. But I thought that efficiency might be in order. I, like you, hate freedom, and so I thought I'd speed along the 9:15 to Siberia.”

I tried to calm down. “Tooorisky, you don't understand. We are what we say. There is really nothing else, you know. No science, no facts, no wisdom, only the sodden sentimentality that we offer to people who are either greedy or stupid or both or who are too lazy to bother with thinking, or who are too credulous to want to worry with it. So since we have utterly nothing that anyone with a brain might want, we take refuge in high-sounding moralizing. You know, like, oh, CNN and NPR. Like the Democrat platform. It's all complete bullshit of course, but we can point to it and say that it makes sense to us. And since those are the same people who refused to see that the Emperor was naked, we're all in it together.

“Get it?”

He was silent for a while. “Commissar, I shall try. I did not until now know that it is the process, not the results, that matter. We can live off the process for eternity, right?”

I saw understanding in his eyes, and softened. “Yes, Tooorisky, we do, and all the time. That's why it doesn't matter it if works—why read the bill?—as long as it's there. Then the bureaucrats will be on it like carpenter ants and more money will be eaten to take more freedoms. In other words, my New Year's Eve wet dream.”

“Commissar,” Tooorisky continued, haltingly, does that mean that we shouldn't go to the barricades?"

I laughed. Actually I tut-tutted, in the most totalitarian and avuncular fashion possible. “Why do you think that you have to be a purist, dear boy? Just get everything embroiled in a headless bureaucracy staffed by resentful, underworked, overpaid people engaged in turf wars, and you have totalitarianism with a kinder, gentler face. It's all the same in the end: the people they way win, they lose. Get it?”

“Yes, Commissar, I do. And thank you.”

“Repeat this. The people that they pay win, they lose.” Or, I thought, perhaps he can run with it. And he did.

“Commissar,” he said shyly, “what about: they pay us and we win, and because they pay us, they lose.”

“Not concise but you get the point. And as time goes on you'll learn how to sniff when you're asleep."

Seeing his progress, my heart burst with pride and I made plans to leave the restaurant. “Comrade, a made prog never pays a check. Ask the waitresses in cities hosting Democrat conventions [ this is utterly true ] are entirely used to, er, some comrades' attempts to save funds for the Revolution. So let's leave separately.”

I left as though I were going to the john, and as I passed I managed, without even breaking stride, to take the money left for the waitress from every single table I passed. Poor girl: stupid, ugly, and working in a place like this, only to get fired after I took her money. Well, if she didn't want to get robbed, she shouldn't have worked where I would eat. I learned that one from Our Many Titted Empress who said that she couldn't worry about every undercapitalized business in America. Well, if a business, why not a waitress? And waitresses can't fight back.

I stopped to take a double handful of peppermints from the bowl, and turn to see something, the horror of which still haunts me to this day: I saw Tooorisky paying his bill!

Lenin on Horseback! Do you know what that does to a man? Paying a bill? And I'd seen to it that the waitress would be fired anyway! Does the man never learn? What is this? Pity? He sure didn't learn it from our MTE or Nanski, I promise you, and if it's not good enough for our MTE or Nanski, it's not good enough for a comrade of the Cube.

So it is with heavy heart that I denounce Tooorisky.

Comrade, or ex-comrade, how different things might have been had you only stiffed a poor stupid waitress, like Dear O'Leader or our MTE, instead of being honest.

Do. Not. Ever. Be. Honest. Ever.

Bill must be submitted for 100% flat tax rate for the waitresses occupation. Also 401k must be confiscated and redistributed amongst retired diner patrons (Charlie Rangel). I will not be able to sleep until my Government has been properly reimbursed for revenues lost.

My Dear Theocritus

I am equally shocked at you.

No, I am ambivalent at you, for I still harbor some sort of chemically induced positive emotion towards you. You are the paragon of proggishness, the statue of statism, the mentor of millions of minions.

Yet you failed.

How long has Tooorisky been here at the Cube? He is still but a pioneer among prog princes, a cubet among cubeistas. You have taken him under your Left Wing. You nurtured him, you fed him with the Unadulterated Current Truth.

And you tried to teach him what? To MERELY steal from the waitress? To MERELY not pay for his meal?

My gentle Kommissar, whatever happened to the Great and Glorious Tradition of the Waitress Sandwich? How is 'n tender young prole pioneer like Tooorisky suppose to understand the subtle nuances of Proggery without being taught how to make a proper Waitress Sandwich?

I am heartbroken, Theo. I, the Feared Leader and Beloved Tyrant of Zimbabwe expected so much more from you.

I am so depressed at your negligence that I will not even go to the trouble of denouncing you. I think I'll just go and shoot Mr Tsvangirai, my Prime Minister.

Yes, that should make me feel better.

Amandla!

Obamugabe.

PS. empathy also for Commissar Theocritus. Sometimes forget, people are human too.

Theo, I am shocked at your denouncement. Not that you have denounced Tooorisky--he deserves anything he gets--but at the content of your denouncement. Not one single personal attack. Not one single unsupported accusation. You didn't even deliberately misspell his name, comment on his odor, or insult his choice in avatars. You are setting a dangerous precedent, Theo; what if all the sudden people started expecting all our denouncements, party directives, and statements of glorious accomplishment to be based on logical thought and proper grammar?

Comrade Betinov is correct, but Theo does make a good point. Tooorisky did pay his bill. If every prog does this, where does it leave us? It's silly, like some Federal...yes FEDERAL judge saying that progs shouldn't be FORCED into paying for ObamaCare™ because after Pinkie, we know Obama does care!
The ruling denouncement on the barricades stands, Theo has the ball, replay 1st down.

There's still the matter of the first charge against Tooorisky--Theocritus is right, he has too many o's in his name.

What does he need with so many of them? He needs to understand that there comes a point when a person has enough o's in their name.

Indeed, he has three, while I have none. And Theocritus is also right that it's really really hard to type three o's in a row. It's not fair that I have to do that, anymore than it's fair that Tooorisky has more o's than I do.

Theo, I must echo the concerns of Obamugabe and Betinov and add my own.

First off you have used the name of a mere prole in the title of a thread. He has not earned that privilege. you risk giving him a swollen head.

Secondly, speaking of swollen, I notice that your posts lately have more words in them than that book Shakedown Socialism, but without the clever illustrations. You must remember that not all of us are literate and many suffer from Attention Deficit Disorder.

And Pinkie, I've heard an unsubstantiated rumor that it was the People's Director who gave Tooorisky his annoyingly ponderous 3rd O because he thought a name like Toorisky was just too risky.

I wonder if "Tooorisky" is an amalgam of "too" and "O'Risky," which may mean that Tooorisky is Irish. Not only Irish, but proclaiming, with self-righteous glee that he is not only "O'Risky," but in fact "too O'Risky," as was the self-indulgent boast of Right Said Fred, who was "too sexy" for a variety of things.

Persons of the Collective, we cannot allow even a shadow of Right Said Fred to raise its too sexy head to pollute the People's thread. It must be killed until its dead, for it fills me with dread so much so I can't go to bed for fear of what might be said. Now look where this has led!

This has me so upset that I am going to curl up in the corner and read "Red Eggs and Ham Confiscated by the People's Justice From Sam I Am" until I regain my sense of equilibrium.

The commissar is quite correct! Based on what he saw, I fully deserved to be denounced or worse.

I could not have at the time or place, but am now free to share insider information.

There were too many members of the local constabulary to effect an escape. Thanks to my connections in the “pharmaceutical industry”, [see my avitar] I had a supply of North Korea's latest forgeries.

While it appeared I was paying, just like a real customer, I was actually using “funnier money”. The net value of which is zero. This game is called “customer charades”.

Now you know!

Commissar Theocritus wrote:Poor girl: stupid, ugly, and working in a place like this, only to get fired after I took her money. Well, if she didn't want to get robbed, she shouldn't have worked where I would eat.

Comrades,

The Commissar has explained to me they only "swollen head' I will get is from his use of a shovel upon the regions above my shoulders. This is within his perogative, no official nonsense necessary.

My quota's will not be reduced. Only correctly subserviant humility is the standard.

Back to another field.

So the rest of you didn't see this coming? I did. I've witnessed how Tooorisky gets under Theocritus's thin prog skin many times. I don't have any specific examples, but there are. I'm just too lazy to do the research through the archives.

Comrade Tooorisky,

How could you? How could you pay the bill? AAAAK! Do you know how hard you're going to have to work to once again prove yourself as a made prog?

Comrade Leninka,

As I have explained above, this is a new game called "Customer Charades" where it appears you are being a "good customer" but are not.

My goal was to aid in the circulation of the latest product from NKPR.

Let everyone think you are paying, but the reality deviates.

Oh. My. Lenin. I'm going to have to explain it to all you little progettes again.

All this stuff that One-Oh-Too-Much-Tooorisky about him giving funny money is just utter rubbish. While we were eating, I looked over his shoulder, bugged out my eyes, and said, "There's our Many Titted Empress flogging a serf!"

Tooorisky did as any good pretend prog would do. He instantly affected surprise and dropped his fork, stood up and turned around. During that few seconds I felt the Socialist Imperative (for which read, I wanted to) to investigate his finances.

I've taken training from the school of Ecuadoran wallet-lifters, who to graduate have to enter a pitch-dark room and lift a wallet from a mannikin dressed in a suit with bells on it. If a bell sounds, the Ecuadoran pickpocket doesn't graduate, go to New York, and work on Senator Schumer's staff.

So it was a tarradiddle for me to extract Toofuckitrisky's wallet and rifle through it, while he was acting like a bobble-head doll, searching for our Many Titted Empress. Not that anyone would miss Hillary; that's like missing a tsunami.

So I, for the sake of Sustainable Socialism, replaced his legal tender with what he is pleased to call his own deception. And yes, as a matter of fact it did come from Dear O'Leader in the NKPR. But hey--what's a minor currency deception when your capital is selling long pig openly in butcher shops?

So when Tooorisky says that he deliberately stiffed that silly woman, he was only doing what I let him do.

Pardon me while i huff and puff. It's so hard being a Premier Prog.

Leninka, I take your point about Toofuckitrisky getting under my skin, but then I have made a profession of having a thin skin. Just notice how successful it is. Jesse Jackson has made millions, or rather appropriated, and entirely appropriately too, millions of OPM and it's all on manufactured outrage.

I'm good at it. Really good.

[ prog off]
Czar Czar, that's what these people are. Their entire Weltanschaaung is to divorce actions from consequences because it gives them more freedom to play god. When you're Part of the Solution™ and For the People™ or Without Labels™ or any other catchphrase meant to disarm, you're really asking for people to trust you while you tell them what to do.

Lots of people like guidance, which is why business works. Unfortunately nasty people feel permitted to impose their ideas on others, harmless others, and who impose these views under the aegis of them having some superior view for mankind. And it's all rubbish.

This is merely a condensation of Bill Clinton stating that he could spend your money better than you can, but told by someone who has anointed himself to the position of a moral exemplar.

These people really are like that.

Toofuckitrisky, do you realize the honor being done to you by the attendance of Laika? I have had a private communication that Laika will send you her own autographed Superheterodyne, Phased Antenna Array Tin Foil Hat for your own purposed version of the Current Truth™. And here's the good part: unlike television stock tickers, your Current Truth™ won't be delayed by 15 minutes!

I cannot tell you how generous that is. If only I, at this stage in my proggery, when I was merely stealing pencils from blind men and CDs from widows and retirement money from, oh, workers, had been offered a fancy LAIKA HAT WITH INSTANT PROG UPDATES, then all this rubbish about W might not have happened.

Just think. I could have pirouetted to the latest egestion from Rahm Emanuel, who really knows how to go en point to dance the Socialist Dance.

And all the other Made Progs dancing in attendance. Ah. The rheumy old socialist's eyes are filling up.

Betinov--a true bastard. His avatar has his brain in a jar because he found thinking inconvenient. He's our resident intellectual. I never go long enough to worry about whether thinking is inconvenient. I just don't.

Whoopie. Ah, the horrible old socialist rampages we've shared. There are Arsenal backers in England who are afraid of him.

And Pinkie. Dear, dear Pinkie. Well, I promised I'd call the bitch that lest I get another sweet one upside the head. You don't know what it's like to have Pinkie give you a love tap with her shovel after she's downed a quart of Pinkie's Purloined Priceless Putinka Personality Vodka, and her eyes no longer track together.

You'd think that that would improve your chances.

Trust me. It doesn't.

Obamugabe, there is something about you recently which disturbs me; perhaps an insufficient socialist urge. Is it possible that you have all that you need? You ought to know that that's not possible--Soros, dear George--has billions and he's using it to purchase the misery of the world. What a great bargain that will be. For dear George.

What's your cut? Do come to the Rancho. And BTW, don't bring your goons. I'm remodeling the barracks. I promise that I can protect you.

You are getting sleepy...

Comrade Tooorisky wrote:Comrade Leninka,

As I have explained above, this is a new game called "Customer Charades" where it appears you are being a "good customer" but are not.

My goal was to aid in the circulation of the latest product from NKPR.

Let everyone think you are paying, but the reality deviates.

My comrades

I denounce this as a lie. Toorisky is like the Kulak who hides his unneeded donkey under a haystack when the Kommissar does his inspection.

I denounce Tooorisky as a Dirty Kulak!

Amandla!


Obamugabe

Commissar Theocritus wrote:Obamugabe, there is something about you recently which disturbs me; perhaps an insufficient socialist urge. Is it possible that you have all that you need? You ought to know that that's not possible--Soros, dear George--has billions and he's using it to purchase the misery of the world. What a great bargain that will be. For dear George.

What's your cut? Do come to the Rancho. And BTW, don't bring your goons. I'm remodeling the barracks. I promise that I can protect you.

You are getting sleepy...

Dear Kommissar

As Pluripotent Potentate of the Peoples Paradise of Pzimbabwe I must point out that since being More Equal among Equals my needs are more equal too.

What need could a mangy lice infested HIV positive prole living in a shack ever have? Give them 2 billion Zim dollars and they are happy for a year. (2 Billion is roughly the price of three slices of bread and a draught of sorghum beer, more than my proles need in a decade.)

But me?

Do you realize what it costs to run one official People's Limousine, its 4 chauffeurs and 234 mechanics? How about a fleet or 391 of them? Or pay for all 23 the Mrs Obamugabe's manicures, pedicures and shopping trips to Paris and Bangkok? Have you any idea of the cost of flying in Alaskan Lobster on a daily basis so that they may reach my People's Presidential Pots alive and in pristine health, so as to be cooked alive as Jamie Oliver would dictate?

My friend, running a dacha north of the Rio Grande does not even begin to compare with the cost and responsibilities of being the Dear Leader.

You cannot even begin to comprehend my Need.

Amandla!

Obamugabe

Commissar Theocritus!

My old mentor and the one who guided me to be the prog that I am today. Might you remember that I also as a lowly un-made prog at the time when you took me under your wing also took awhile to absorb your astute proggie wisdom and lessons?

Perhaps Toorisky here might also need a second chance before a full blown denouncement.
As shocked as I am also that he actually paid for his meal instead of feeling he was just entitled to it instead because as progs we support giving loads of other peoples cash to farmers so they can keep growing beets instead of what the people actually want to eat Did he perhaps do some other redeeming things also before he left the diner?

Pockets stuffed with 'sweet n lows'? Salt and Pepper shakers missing now from the tables? A little short on the silverware and fork count at closing time by the owner? He seems the "entitlement" type for sure to get his mitts on other peoples stuff and "redistribute" to those of us who are like minded travelers.

As your former student I would be curious to know if he at least did that or was all your patient grooming all for naught on this one?

Theo! Misery futures...you're a financial genius. Finally a Soros approved method to make a killing on the killing to come. You simply invest in a certain level of misery betting on the fact that the misery will be greater down the road. Then you can sell your lesser misery shares to those more miserable and reap a windfall.

Not since I cornered the market on pilfered condiment packets have I heard of such a brilliant scheme. I hear the Chicago Climate Exchange has been looking for a new investment vehicle ever since the bottom fell out of carbon.

Obamugabe, my eyes fill with tears at your cash-strapped position. I feel your pain about the lobster. Why, when Dear O'Leader was at the Rancho with Miss Resentment, we had to lengthen the private landing field for all the trips that Air Force One was making. Well, we used both of the Air Force Ones. One to Alaska, and one to Maine.

But still, your needs to not compare to mine.

I have Bruno.

That trumps everything. But if you want Bruno, I'll send him, all wrapped up in a red ribbon, and you can have his Victoria's Secret catalogues and cards too. Yes, plural.

And you may have a larger slice of the beet pie. But only if you take him.

Whoopie, there is one thing about misery futures: you should always buy when Progressives are in power, because the market will be depressed because of the blizzard of lies promises about Hopey-Changey-Future. The shares will be very low priced.

Then as the Progressives are (quite unfortunately) retired, sell your misery shares. Because the progs will have made you lots and lots and lots of money.

And as far as the Chicago Climate Exchange goes, does it matter what it's called? Misery index, Climate Exchange, No Labels, whatever. Who cares?

Because it's all utter bullshit, and the only thing that matters is making people miserable because you can.

Witness our new $1.2 terabuck budget. Now if that isn't causing heartburn among the evil RethugliKKKans, I don't know what is. Just think. Another coffin nail for America, given us by our friends, the Democrat Party as they leave.

I swear. I couldn't have done better if I'd been a house guest at Buckingham Palace and laid a huge turd on Queen Elizabeth's pillow.

Commissar Theocritus wrote:
And as far as the Chicago Climate Exchange goes, does it matter what it's called? Misery index, Climate Exchange, No Labels, whatever. Who cares?

Well climate is an all encompassing word. It's not just about warmal cooling. It can be a climate of fear or misery too. Trust me, the carbon trading thing is dead but the CCX will remain, ready to trade in whatever gimmick and scheme the Left can concoct to separate gullible dupes from their money.

Just think, a couple years ago a share of CCX was going for $9.95 (it's high point) but when it finally stopped trading the share price was 5 cents. I wonder who pocketed that $9.90 difference? Remember, the stockmarket doesn't make money, it only transfers it from the losers to the winners or in this case the suckers to the schemers.

(I smell a pump and dump)

Snoogie, I'm still working on Tooorisky. I do have such great hopes for him that I refuse to give up the faith.

While walking down the street, I saw him, without even thinking, reach down and pull the wallet out of the purse of a woman pushing a stroller. "She doesn't need that money. I'm sure that's a welfare baby, and anyway people give money to a woman with a child. Especially if she doesn't look healthy. Theo, do you think we could make her look more unhealthy so people would give her money, which we could take?"

"Tooorisky, a brilliant idea, but that's a lot of work. Just look for another person to mug. Never waste your time making just one woman ugly. Make all women ugly. Much more efficient."

"But if all were ugly, would anyone give them money to steal?"

"I don't think that far ahead. I'm a Made Prog and all I do is make people miserable while swanning about, all over the world, talking about how wonderful I am."

I have been taking lessons from Dear Obowma.

And, Snoogie, you are somewhat in the ballpark with the Sweet-n-Low. However, Tooorisky did not steal any. He put some into sugar packets and gave them to diabetics, which will cause a coma which will increase the demand for socialized medicine which will increase the misery factor of the world.

And George Soros just orgasmed right then.

I smell a pump and dump too, and that phrase has a very lascivious meaning too.

Comrade Theo

Spreading your wealth (i.e. Bruno) in such a caring fashion is such wonderful, caring Proggery. That is why you are indeed the Peerless Prog, the Unequaled Equal, the Limitless Lib.

I must point out, though that Faggotry is a capital offense in Zimbabwe. So in the interest of Protecting our Zimbabwean National Reputation, he will have to come incognito.

I will send ZimAir One over to Texas tonight. We will disguise Bruno as a Young Middle Eastern Man in a Beard and a Dress before he goes through customs, so no TSA operative or CIA agent will dare to stop and search him. His cover will be completely safe.

OK, I am off to prepare the West Wing of the People's Palace for his arrival.

Pity all my proles who see him will have to register on the Necro Voter list for the next election...

But then, it is a sacrifice I am willing to make.

It is for the Greater Good.

Amandla!

Obamugabe

The Impaler for the Common Good wrote: "Tooorisky, a brilliant idea, but that's a lot of work. Just look for another person to mug. Never waste your time making just one woman ugly. Make all women ugly. Much more efficient."

This is Brilliant! If ALL women were ugly the NO woman would be be ugly!

(Or is it NO woman would be beautiful... I am not quite sure, thinking hurts my brain.)

Commissar Theocritus,

Most appreciative I am of the honor/humiliation/back stabbing I have been given.

The phased array tinfoil hat will become a permanent addition to my brain housing group, and the information provided will become actionable upon receipt.

For those who are flustered by the number of "O" characters, You could try T'risky.

That name was assigined from on high, any alteration is likely to incur wrath from the highest reaches of the Cube. Alter at your own risk!

What an excellent idea, Obamugabe. And I know that Faggotry is a capital crime there. Why do you think I offered? But not to worry. Bruno doesn't use his head for anything but gossip--and I'd like to stop that--and putting hats on.

So we could easily disguise him as I can imagine every Achmed there would just love to have a crack at an all-American Barbie.

Which is short for Barbiturate tosser by the way.

Well, Tooorisky, you'll have to live up to all those extra vowels. It will be hard, but perhaps worth it. Who could have known in 1850 that the name Marx would be so honored?

Who could have known in 1996 that the name Obama would be so honored?

It's just a matter of time until the Marx/Stalin/Obama trinity will set up the ten-million-year Reich here on earth. It will only last four years but believe me, it'll feel like ten million.

And that's even if Dear O'Leader doesn't give a speech every day.

I, Krasnodar, have an important question that has not been asked by those who inhabit the blog's shark tank.......ah...... thread.

Exactly how did Comrade Tooorisky pay for his lunch ?

If it was his cash, then that wasn't very progressive of him.

But, suppose it was someone else's cash, like swiping the tip some capitalists left on their table. That would be laudable.

Maybe he wrote a bad check from a closed account.

As a final possibility, he may have used someone else's credit card he found out in the parking lot. If the restaurant didn't require a pin #, then he could even pay for Theo's lunch.

Easy peasy.

If no woman is beautiful, I have a better chance of getting rid of Bruno. After all, if every woman looks like an East German women's prison guard under Honeker, then Bruno will seem quite fetching. Especially to a bunch of hairy Arabs.

Commissar Theocritus wrote:Well, Tooorisky, you'll have to live up to all those extra vowels. It will be hard, but perhaps worth it. Who could have known in 1850 that the name Marx would be so honored?

Who could have known in 1996 that the name Obama would be so honored?

It's just a matter of time until the Marx/Stalin/Obama trinity will set up the ten-million-year Reich here on earth. It will only last four years but believe me, it'll feel like ten million.

And that's even if Dear O'Leader doesn't give a speech every day.

Really, I think his extra vowels should be redistributed to Poland, where they suffer a severe vowel shortage.

From each according to his ability to each according to his need!

Krasnodar, the problem is that Tooorisky DID use his own money to pay for luncheon. Now that doesn't bother me, as long as the next effect is theft. Paying for luncheon before you foreclose on the restaurant is merely noblesse oblige, or totalitarianesse oblige. Which is a proper part of Prog Ethics, on which we might dilate later.

Pay $10 for luncheon but rifle the cash register on the way out. As long as there's more than $10 in the register, that's okay.

Pay $10 for luncheon to keep the owner busy while your comrade sneaks back into the office for the check book. That's okay, but you'd better make sure that you have something on that comrade. Once I trusted Meow to do that and the next I heard he woke up in Mao's coffin with an empty bottle of Jack Black and a half-empty bottle of what he thinks were hydrocodone but which really was roofies. He stole them from me, you see, so they were roofies.

Don't know if Mao responded or not. But I do know that we wouldn't have had that ugly international incident had I used my jeweler's loupe on the diamond that Meow gave me as security.

Comrade Theo

Talking about getting rid of Bruno and Waitress Sandwiches, what about the other old Prog tradition of driving him off a bridge and swimming away?

Commisarka Pinkie, while Comrade Tooorisky does ideed have more than average number of "O"s in name, and you have none, do you really wish to expropriate one of his "O"s for your name? "Commisarka Poinkie" just does not sound right. Excuse, please while I take an aspirin for headache I feel coming on. I have feeling it will feel like headache resulting from impact of digging implement with my head.

Obamugabe wrote:Comrade Theo

Talking about getting rid of Bruno and Waitress Sandwiches, what about the other old Prog tradition of driving him off a bridge and swimming away?

Comrade Obamugabe,

Herr Doktor Theocritus tried that a few years ago. But Bruno is the damnest mutant discovered to date. You see, Bruno is not only hairy... HE IS REALLY HAIRY! It seems that his man fur is very similar to beaver. Therefore, sending Bruno to a watery demise is very difficult. Damned near impossible, I'd say! Bruno simply slithered out and somehow found his way home.

Water does not frighten Bruno. Our MTE does, but not water. There was this one time when Bruno really pissed Theo off. So Theo decided to waterboard him. Though disappointed when he found out that corporal punishment was not part of waterboarding, Bruno just giggled like Nancski Pelosivich when she successfully destroyed saved our nation's health care system every time they dunked him under.

Poor Theo...

Yes, Bruno is hairy, but he still surpasses many progressive women in the beauty department. A girlish personality counts for something these days, especially in Se-a-ttle.
Just take a look this blogger's opinion of women there:

"There's a girl I work with who never shuts up about being a lesbian (bo-ring, like she invented it). She is making porn and she ruins everyone's group she is in with trying to force the agenda to be about lesbianism when no one else is. Not even about gay issues, JUST lesbian. Why do seattleites act like being gay is something new and something to get mad at others about? I am from Atlanta which has been very gay for a long time, with public leaders being gay, and no one is waving any flags anymore in every day life. They just get on with living. My cousin is gay and she just lives her life.

This bitch I am talking about and her girlfriend also f*** men too, they are whores. She really drags down the atmosphere, as she openly propositions people. The faculty does nothing, because Seattle is a progressive city, right? She has a right to take over everything and we owe her our undivided attention. She blabs constantly that she has sex with everybody, including strangers she meets at clubs. In Se-a-ttle. Where people don't bathe and smell like shit. She lies, she uses people, she talks shit about me, she looks like shit. She looks like a shih tzu dog, like somebody kicked her in the face, and she goes around with her wallet chained to her belt, etc.

The women here are about as feminine as a lumberjack, whether gay or straight, but very VOCAL about being bi. Who cares? Everybody may be a LITTLE bi. They dress like lumberjacks, too. Except, once in a while when they want to get a promotion or something, they put on a too-short skirt and great big 5" high hooker heels, which they can't even walk in, along with their big fat bare legs with a blurry bruise-colored prison tattoo. They walk along like they've got hemmorhoids. How do you separate the women from the girls in seattle? With a crowbar? And they are loud and mean TO EACH OTHER here, on the street!

They make me sick. I hear them talking and I feel nauseous. That bossy, nasally jabber. But the pussified men here seem to love it. The men have that whiny-voiced, "nobody lets me have any balls and I don't have the balls to say anything" attitude.

Here is the link to the page where I found it.

https://ihateseattle.com/posts/have-you-noticed-how-skanky-the-women-are-here

Leninka, I showed this to Bruno and he instantly started hyperventilating.

"Theocritus! We must go up there! We have to rescue them! This is so like To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything. Love, Julie Newmar.. So Bruno has it in his head to go up there, in an old 60s Caddy, and Save The Dykes from themselves.

Also he can help them with tips on 3 o'clock shadow.

But next he'll need to go to Vancouver. In September I went on my Great International Appropriations Tour and spent four nights in Vancouver. I was near to a dining district and walked a few blocks and found myself behind a goodly number of very healthy women with very healthy fish-belly-white thighs not at all disguised by a miniskirt, and all on wobbling high heels.

I had, I confess, been considering switching teams. After all, who can resist the Proggish charms of Our Many Titted Empress? I had been taking therapy, which involved genital torture, to make me responsive to pictures of Our Many Titted Empress.

But after Vancouver I wasn't so sure. And that night I had the dream about consorting with Janeane Gawdawfulo in which I had my first-ever sex dream about a woman. In Vancouver.

So I'm thinking that Vancouver might be the Great Prog Town, instead of Se-a-ttle. After all, if I'm lusting after Janeane and taking genital torture to find our MTE attractive, doesn't that mean that down deep there is nothing sexier than cellulite wrapped in pasty-white skin?]

Only the grease of Ms. Gawdawfulo could improve that.

Heavens yes, Obamugabe, there is that old prog tradition of driving off a bridge and swimming away.

This has been done wonderfully by the Congress. Today we learn of a $1.2 terabuck budget proposed by the Democrat Party as a billet doux for the incoming RethugliKKKans. This is even finer in its complete disdain for everyone else than the Clintonistas prying the W keys off the White House Computers.

I do so love Nanski. I have tried over and over to find someone worse and cannot.

I'm in love.

Zampolit wrote:You see, Bruno is not only hairy... HE IS REALLY HAIRY! It seems that his man fur is very similar to beaver.

I'll tell Bruno that you said "beaver" in the same sentence as "Bruno" and that'll kill him dead.

Thanks. The world thanks you.

As usual I find myself late tooo the conversatiooon due to Peoooples Pooork Cooollective toooil.

I have read the circumstance that warranted Cooommissar of Wooordage Theooo's -Party Denooouncement- and understand very little ooof it (due tooo my stupid gene).

Persooonally, I dooo find paying fooor a meal suspiciooous, especially when ooone can simply grooow and slaughter everything a tummy needs.

Hooowever Theooo, ooone bit ooof infooormation was left ooout that I feel wooould be mooost helpful tooo the cooollective in deciding whether Tooorisky is in need ooof a stern denooouncement ooor a savage brooow beating.

Was the meal Halal, Vegan, Kooosher ooor a slice ooof pepperoooni pizza?

This will tell us much abooout where the heart ooof Tooorisky lies.

With Prooogress ooor espiooonage!

[off]

Your right Theo, typing three o's in a row is very labor intensive and most Unions would not approve of such oppression.

Comrade Ogrrre wrote:Commisarka Pinkie, while Comrade Tooorisky does ideed have more than average number of "O"s in name, and you have none, do you really wish to expropriate one of his "O"s for your name? "Commisarka Poinkie" just does not sound right. Excuse, please while I take an aspirin for headache I feel coming on. I have feeling it will feel like headache resulting from impact of digging implement with my head.

Very well, Comrade Ogrrre, since you've taken it upon yourself to draw my attention, which some of the others here will assure you may not be a good thing, perhaps you wouldn't mind explaining why you need all of three R's to your name? I may not wish to be Poinkie, but who would argue there's anything wrong with being Pinkier when I'm Pinkier than everyone else? Indeed, I'm the Pinkiest one of all, but for that I'd have to redistribute some letters from the Commissar who would henceforth be known as Heocritu.

Comrade Commissar Buffooon you have done outdone yourself again as usual. Despite all your duties at the hog gulag you still seem to have too much time on your hands.

(I suggest we break a few of your fingers just to make things more equal)

Heocritu wrote: And that night I had the dream about consorting with Janeane Gawdawfulo in which I had my first-ever sex dream about a woman.

Comrade Heocritu

I did not realize she/it was female. This is a great relief. I have a picture of her/it on the back of the door of my People's Commode, and was always a bit worried that someone may see it and denounce me for Faggottry.

Not that it would be a problem, though. The last person who tried to denounce me for anything is now at the bottom of the People's Commode.

However. I will sleep better tonight knowing that I am truly natural, master of my own urges.

Amandla!

Obamugabe

Obamugabe wrote:Comrade Theo

Talking about getting rid of Bruno and Waitress Sandwiches, what about the other old Prog tradition of driving him off a bridge and swimming away?

Comrade Obmaugabe,You are one on the heros of the modern movement. The achievements in your own country are incredulous, and can leave one speechless.I know you are a modest man and only have all these trappings because of the office imposed on you! Hail Obamugabe!

"perhaps you wouldn't mind explaining why you need all of three R's to your name?" Not at all, comrade. When I opened an account at hotmail, that evil oppressor of the proletariat, Bill Gates, told me that "Ogre" was already taken, as was "Ogrre". Since we ogres growl a lot, Ogrrre seemed appropriate. And, as I have unselfishly redistributed much of my short- and long-term memory to others, and can't remember sh ... aving cream, I have used that spelling on many of my user names.

I see, Ogrrre, that you are on-line and watching me. Well, that's a good thing for a young comrade to do, and I congratulate you. But rest assured that you have nothing to worry about from me, for I am Father Prog. It is the holiday time and of course we cannot say Merry Christmas but hey what about Ramadan? Was that great or what?

So instead of Father Christmas, I am Father Prog, and I bring the benisons of enlightened socialism to all.

So there's no reason to worry about what I'm doing. None at all. And I'll make sure to lock the door when I leave, and turn off the light. I promise.

Buffoon, I don't recall what the restaurant was; I went there because it was bought with an SBA loan. Most of those default because they're undercapitalized and could only be open because of the entirely justified expenditure of money taken from successful businesses and workers to put into ones which nearly always wind up in default and the taxpayer eats the bad business decisions of the government.

So I always choose them. Always. And since they shouldn't have been in business in the first place, getting stiffed makes them even more resentful and pushes them closer to the edge, and therefore makes even more complete the progification of them.

See how it works?

[ Father Prog off]
I own a title company in Texas and I have never, in 25 years' experience in this small town, seen an SBA loan which didn't wind up in default. I run my business well but know nothing about other business but even I, not a CPA, could see that they were all based on pipe dreams. And the lenders wire $400K to a company they don't know without a closing-protection letter. There is more, much more.

And with one exception they'll sign anything, making me theorize that their job performance is based not on money recovered--not a chance of that--but on how many cases they can get through.

And how much of our goddamned money they can piss away.

Sorry, Comrades, but I've seen foolishness and damned foolishness and this is right up there. Oh, the stories. Oh, the stories.And while I have a club out, let me state that I can prove, without any possible contradiction, that the Texas Department of Transportation thinks that water runs uphill.I can prove this. I really can. And they're head and shoulders above the ones in NM, OK, and LA.

Ah. Now I am composed. I have partaken of a plentiful portion of my purloined Pinkie's Perfect Prog Putinka until I am purblind. And I am now perfectly proggish, in the most smug, oily, sneering, oleaginous and sneering proggish way. In other words, right up there with Keith Olbermann.

So I shall refrain from asking Pinkie to grace Buffoon's head with her shovel for not stating that when I was goosestepping I was not just another commie drone, but showing the troops how to do it right. You know, to give some grace to the form. And that normally I would be in the reviewing stand.

Buffoon ought to have told people that.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Damn. WTF does that bitch put in the vodka?

Obamugabe, I shall for the nonce refrain from Pinkizing you, and I deny her claim that she's the pinkest one of all, for I am Father Prog, for omitting consonants from my name.

This is an act of grace from me, owing to the sad blight in your life of not knowing the full charms of Janeane Gawdawfulo. No one can make me sadder than dear Janeane; when I see her debating with Keith O., I realize that between them there is a flux stronger than electromagnetism.

Is is the Progiton Flux. There are gravity, electromagnetism, and various forces: the weak force, the strong force. But the one force which conquers all is the Progitron. And between them there was a Progitron Flux of such potency that the individual air molecules were transmuting into things like a pot of flowers or a sperm whale powered by an Infinite Improbability Drive.

So strong is the irrationality of the Progitron Flux.

Comrade Theo

I believe the Progitron Flux is related to the Flux Capacitor.

Where the Flux Capacitor sends you over the Event Horizon of a time wormhole (The Colonel should correct me if I'm wrong) I believe the Progitron Flux would have the power to send you over the Truth Event Horizon.

All this is based on the Theory of Relativity of Truth, and it explains why us Progs can so effortlessly construct, reconstruct and deconstruct the Truth du Jour.

It also has an effect on General Reality, which explains why Cass Sunstein, Phil Jones and other scientific gurus believe in unicorns. And of course, Father Prog. (Who according to legend is a Government Agent who Stimulates the Ecomony by handing out Unemployment Benefits on Hogswatch Night.)

Commissar Theocritus wrote:Obamugabe, I shall for the nonce refrain from Pinkizing you, and I deny her claim that she's the pinkest one of all, for I am Father Prog, for omitting consonants from my name.

This is an act of grace from me, owing to the sad blight in your life of not knowing the full charms of Janeane Gawdawfulo. No one can make me sadder than dear Janeane; when I see her debating with Keith O., I realize that between them there is a flux stronger than electromagnetism.

Is is the Progiton Flux. There are gravity, electromagnetism, and various forces: the weak force, the strong force. But the one force which conquers all is the Progitron. And between them there was a Progitron Flux of such potency that the individual air molecules were transmuting into things like a pot of flowers or a sperm whale powered by an Infinite Improbability Drive.

So strong is the irrationality of the Progitron Flux.

Mooost Esteeemd Impaler for the Common Good:

Two of our crack Peoples Scientists ™ have filed for a rather large grant to study the possibility of retrieving the PROGITRON from the 14th dimension thru 7.62's wormhole directly into the Peoples Lab C.R.A.P. Containment System ™ . They want to see if they can convert it somehow into a powerful Progitron Dust that they can get Gietner & Bernake to cover all the new CEU's that are being printed thus infecting all the greedy kapitolist pigs DNA and thereby completing the takeover of the world in the name of The World of Next Tuesday ™.


They humbly ask if you would peer review their thesis before they submit:

This discussion has become way too technical for me. I will simply protect myself by covering all the mirrors in my house with duct tape so I don't accidentally step into an alternate reality.

Great. Nw, between Trisky and Bufn using up all the 's, we have such an shrtage that even members f the inner Party are ging t have t start ratining the damned things.

Save the vowels! Write Hebrew.

Do not be intimidated, if you do not know Hebrew, Aramaic may be substituted, it has no vowels, either is adequate! Personally, I am functionally illiterate in both! Having some relatives over for an [orgy] party , should be fun!

T s prtty mzng wht y cn stll sy wtht vwls. Smhw, wht y r tryng t sy stll gts thrgh.

Comrade Whoopie wrote:This discussion has become way too technical for me. I will simply protect myself by covering all the mirrors in my house with duct tape so I don't accidentally step into an alternate reality.

Comrade Whoopie,I put extra rails near the toilet so inter dimersional travel is not possible from strange forces exerting intensive pressure upon my backside.

Good news Comrades,
I've captured a Progitron Particle. It's shown below in the only field that can hold it. That field being a Rainbow. It can only survive in reality for a very brief time.

Commissar Theocritus,
Please don't be so hard on Comrade Tooorisky. Since the last election many, many good Comrades have lost faith in our glorious system. As Spiritual Advisor it's been all I can do to help these poor disillusioned creatures. That's why I've been so absent for the past months. I've given special care with the MTE, Saint Nansky and our dear favorite Doctor of Reich Wing brain physiology J. Gawdawfulo. Oh, and she told me to be sure and give you this:

Dear Comrade Laika,
My Superheterodyne, Phased Antenna Array Tin Foil Hat arrived after dark!

I was called out to the fence of the gulag, the staff member [knuckle dragging guard] was most helpful. He said, Is that your name? Stop leaving boxes anywhere in the compound. If there is another one, we'll break your left leg!
The technology is from the 1920's and tends to be state of the Ark rather than state of the art.
The Commissars may want to consider upgrade to digital, or not.

As long as I can get to high ground, reception is fine! Thank you for this wonderful gift, which I don't really deserve, but you already knew that!

Comrade Whoopie wrote:Comrade Commissar Buffooon you have done outdone yourself again as usual. Despite all your duties at the hog gulag you still seem to have too much time on your hands.

(I suggest we break a few of your fingers just to make things more equal)

Muchas Danke Comrade Whoopie, so happy to see your drinking again!

Commissar Theo,

Speaking of things I ought to have told people, I've switched from Old Spice to Speed Stick, hopefully the sows will approve, their litters are sporadic at best... but I prog-ress...

Your liberal use of the Communist Party's Re-write History Entitlement™ is most edicterrific! Of course you were leading the Red Army in Goose Step 101! Or an alcohol fueled Texas line dance?

I appreciate your restraint in calling off the Pinkie Shovel Whack, it stings, makes me see spots and worst of all, renders me sober. That's another story...

Meanwhile, we should all clink our glasses in celebration that our opposition is feeble, impotent, turds...

Most highly esteemed Herr Doktor Obamugabe wrote:I believe the Progitron Flux would have the power to send you over the Truth Event Horizon.

Genius, dear comrade, nothing less than Stalin-great genius. I do believe that were Marx alive, and parts of me believe that he is, he is, oh how he is, especially in the English department at Columbia, he would drop his mouth open in shock and awe.

This is indeed the true discovery of Progitronics. The Truth Event Horizon.

[ off ]I'm not kidding here, Comrades; this is gold. All hail O. I'm going to have fun as Father Prog and work this one.

Dear Rasputin, I have missed the grating tones of your voice which so reminds me of the squeal of rusty hinges in the bowls of the Lubyanka. Where even the electricity fears to go. Where the only thing that the rats fear is our MTE. Yes, that sort of sound. Which is why you're so dear to me.

Thank you for that Progitron particle; I noticed that you had made it in a rainbow. How thoughty of you, dear Commissar, as Bullwinkle would say. How thoughty of you.

Knowing that dear Comradette Janeane Gawdawfulo loves me wobbles my tripes more than the time that I ate that farmer's market lettuce with so much e. coli in the horse shit fertilizer that I had to reinsert my liver and use a mirror to do it.

Ah, Buffoon, thank you. I do thank you. I am always, as you know out in front, until I find it convenient not to have been around when other people were out in front. I know that you are a relative progling, although you do show much progress.

Why, just the other day Bruno and I were talking.

"Bruno, you know that I think that Buffoon is perfectly capable of selling his children into slavery just as long as he gets an extra slice of turkey on his sub. What do you think?"

"Theocritus, I am out of Clinique Super Moisturizing Exfoliating Apple Mango Tango Beauty Cream."

"This buffoonery of his. I suspect it's a ruse. He's a natural con man."

"Theocritus, when I shut my eyes you disappear."

So you, dear Buffoon, are roundly approved of in the Father Prog Theocritus household. This consensus is called bipartisanship.

Gulag 4 Alfred wrote:They want to see if they can convert it somehow into a powerful Progitron Dust that they can get Gietner & Bernake to cover all the new CEU's that are being printed thus infecting all the greedy kapitolist pigs DNA and thereby completing the takeover of the world in the name of The World of Next Tuesday ™

Be still my heart! Be still my beating, very red, heart.

Progitron Dust. How wonderful! It's the Fairy Powder of the Progs, and speaking of Fairy Powder I just thought of a way to put Bruno to use. Fairy Powder. Geddit? And thank you for that, Comrade, thank you for that. For that alone your name will resound in the halls of the Rancho.

This is a wonderful addition to the armamentarium of the true prog: in addition to the standard lies, deceit, blackmail, objurgation, character assassination, and general baseness of the true Made Prog, like, and here I blush to a becoming shade of red, a little old moi, you add science.

Now I know that we have the First Church of Climatology. Now you've gone and added to particle physics.

Well, I know that I proposed it first but I shall take all your contributions and use them as my own as though you were a graduate student.

Father Prog? I suppose that's less suggestive than saying "Bruno's Daddy."

FPT:

By viewing your newly embellished title, may I infer that you might be a priest and your first name is " Prog "?
Now that would certainly have the neighbors talking !

Whoopie, I am the Father of all Progitude. And if Bruno had a brain, and the jury is no longer out on that one--he hasn't--he would be a prog. He's not even a RethugliKKKan. He's an empty-headed, self-indulgent, self-absorbed monster of vanity. Think of a, well, a prog, but without a brain. Get this. A prog, but without a brain.

Work with me on this.

Krasnodar, you may call me Most Equal Theocritus. We don't stand on formality here.

I have images of progitron sprinkles on cupcakes, and as you know, cupcakes have no brains.

The "Progitron"™ could be the final solution to ushering in the glorious World of Next Tuesday ™.

Comrades, I'm going in. FOR THE MOTHERLAND.............

Progspeed, brave Alfred, pioneer of zero-G shoveling!

Comrades,

how things have changed here at the Kollective ™ . I've been away on official Party ™ business, you have no idea the work needed to be done after last months poll closings, and what do you know, our very own Commissar Theocritus is now Father Prog. Well my dear friend, how many knives in the backs of fellow comrades did you have to bury in order to achieve a new, more equal title? I stand in admiration of your ability to climb the Party ™ ladder on the cold and stiff bodies of your former comrades. You sir have turned it into an art form.

Obviously I've been going about Proggery in the wrong way; selflessly toiling at my work at the behest of Party ™ leadership. The digging, the cover ups and yes the burials which required more digging. The locating of out of the way rooms and houses in order to perform my official work as well as my experiments. I've been tirelessly hunting down any tidbit of information that would benefit The Common Good ™ . All the while hearing rumors about a Party ™ bunker and Party ™ leader parties where debauchery was the order of the day.

I've got to say it; being a mere Party ™ operative sucks! Especially since the the One ™ who was supposed to be The One ™ has turned out to be.... let's just say; not the one we were waiting for, but more like a bad high school English teacher.

Find me someone to denounce! There must be someone I can throw under the bus! My knives are sharpened and any Prog who gets in my way will be eliminated with the skill that I have acquired toiling for The Glorious World of Next Tuesday ™ . I want the perks, especially now that the perks are going to be harder to come by due to cuts in spending by those evil Rethuglicans. It's every Prog for him/herself now comrades, so stay out of my way.

I remain,
Dr. Chicago

Comrades,

I denounce Theocritus for perpetuating patriarchal stereotypes! Father indeed! What are you, some kind of Rethuglikkkan plant? How dare you insult our feminist sisters in the struggle! What would the MTE think? You've gone too far this time Theocritus!

I remain,
Dr. Chicago

Dr. Chicago wrote:Comrades,

I denounce Theocritus for perpetuating patriarchal stereotypes! Father indeed! What are you, some kind of Rethuglikkkan plant? How dare you insult our feminist sisters in the struggle! What would the MTE think? You've gone too far this time Theocritus!

I remain,
Dr. Chicago

Comrade Theo

The good Dr maybe onto something. May I suggest "Non Gender Specific Parent Prog"?