Comrades and Most Ungentle Progs, and all you Knaves and Jackbooted Chicago Thugs, I bid you a Soviet Socialist greeting. Oh hell, a Barry High-Five.

Here in the People's Republic of Texas I found on the Rancho a refractory Kon$ervative, who showed me a poem of Dorothy Parker:

Résumé wrote: Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

The unperson had modified it to read thus:

Dead Ex-kulak wrote: Lying pains you;
Handshakes are damp;
Taxes defeat you;
Obamacare causes cramp.
Guns won't be lawful;
Nooses they'll give;
Obama is awful;
Now that's how we live.

Of course he's breathing his last on my favorite impaling stake.

Do any poetically or artistically gifted comrades have any input on this? I am treating with Pinkie to have her view all submissions for her prestigious Beet of the Week Award. And this time of year it's probably not that bad, not having sat in a root cellar through the Siberian winter.

Update. After harvesting the bits of the impaled man who did this, the un-person, I was in a brown study. Surely there is more.

Illness is looming,
Payments are cut.
All that is talked of
Is Sandra Fluke's rut.

Cancer is costly,
But sex is up-beat.
My ten bucks will let her
Do the Sixth Fleet.

ERs will suffer
In upcoming crunch.
Sandra won't need them,
That's just a hunch.

When asked about payment,
Watch B. O. punt.
He pulls out his dogma:
Sandra Fluke's tale.

She could save money,
Our nation's punch,
If merely she'd have them
Only for lunch.

For all my esteemed Commissarkas, please believe me that I mean our champion potato-digging sex any no disesteem. Never having chased women in my randy youth, I have never been harmed by a bad one, so a proud slut, and worse, a proud slut who expects me to pay for her dissolution revolts me.

I have illustrated this poem before it was written:

[img]/images/Obama_Drink_Shirt.png[/img]

[img]images/clipart/Prog_Off.gif[/img]
A paraphrase of a couple of John Dryden lines:

For those whom Progs to ruin have design'd,
They fit for fate, and first destroy their minds.

Father PT:

Here's another translation of this highly-respected- and well-known Folk Song (from the original JibberJabber):

We'll Chop You Up
With Machetes,
And Hack Off Your Arms And Legs
If You Don't Support The Obammunist...
Tooo doooo, tooo dooo, too dooo, tooo dooo.

And then the Brilliant lyrics drop off into unintelligible BRILLIANT POETRY!

In Fact, Our Heroic Peoples Kollecktiv sings This Very Melody on the daily walk to Our Heroic Beet Fields Every Day!

As I'm sure you know, Theocritus, Dorothy Parker was the member of a group known as the Algonquin Round Table. They met at a hotel named Algonquin where they sat around a table and sort of did what we do here.

Theocritus, between your patronage of People's Poetry and my People's Book Club™ , we have the makings to form a salon of highly intellectual literary snobs! I've always wanted to be one! (Or at least pretend to be one.) We could meet at the Rancho del Rio every day for the next ten years and call it the Rancho del Rio Round Table.

Or we could just meet here and call it The People's Cube Square Table, whatever you prefer, but either way we simply must have our elite little salon and together we will cut our inferiors dead with our shovel-sharp barbs and vodka-induced wit.

And together we will judge the proles' pathetic passes at penning pitiful poetry.

Deadhead, and I compliment you with that, I so approve of that. I knew that minds were being destroyed 25 years ago when there were more "educators" than teachers in public school. Ah. The light-bulb went on.

Why reason? It's so passé. Me? I feel. I FEEL. I freaking fweel!. That's why I took sociology: it's the gold standard of making mischief; not even a lawyer can do quite as much, if the sociologist gets respected by respectable members of the Politburo, such as the NYT.

Now those engineers. I don't get them. It works or it doesn't. All those questions. I'm expanding Jiffy Lobo on a research grant from George Soros to identify those portions of the cortex which have to do with anything other than motor skills, including of course continence, and mathematical, spacial, verbal, and reasoning ability. Nuke the rest. Sex? Hell no. Junk the junk.

Those people are horrible. We must have them, but they're horrible. Why do you think that Slick Willie was bemoaning the decline in real degrees? He knew we need them. But he also knew that more of them meant less chance for people like him.

And the Prog That Will Come.

Perfectly, plenitudinously pellucid and plain, Prog Pinkie!

In your honor I've been accumulating a small stash of Sangre de Lenin tequila. It's distilled right here on the Rancho; the zeks, er, undocumented workers, oh hell lobotomized zeks and I had to amortize the expense of my distillery and I did it by setting up Jiffy-Lobo.

In fact, since you've been such a good, bloodthirsty and ruthless lying bitch, and I mean that with all due respect, dear Pinkie, I'll make margaritas with Cointreau, limes from the Rancho, fresh squeezed, and Lacrimas de Lenin tequila.

Now if something can make Lenin cry, it might make Chuck Schumer dodge a camera. It might make Nanski Peloski fess up to her manipulation of the minimum-wage law because of her husband's Starkist interests. It might make Charles Rangel admit to being the biggest liar in Congress. Or in the top 433.

It might make cabinet officials pay their income taxes. It might make make Bobby Clapper throw Barry's hand out of his ass.

It's so good that it might make Dear Oleader look at someone in the eye and not down his nose.

Yeah. That's right. It's THAT good.

Oh. Shit. I laughed so hard at that that I did.

Uncultured, let's never forget the training grounds for our upcoming poll watchers: those children kidnapped and drugged in Sierra Leone, who go around and chop off the hands of people walking in the street or sitting in the street. Many people in Sierra Leone have only one hand.

I have read a tale of a boy kidnapped, drugged and indoctrinated like this, and how he was rehabilitated, if he was. But then we don't want them rehabilitated. Then they might expose Eric Holder.

Oh. He's just refusing to investigate blatant black-on-white intimidation at the polls.

My bad.

Oh yes, Red, he's the reason that I drink. And I have one thing to thank him for. Pace W. C. Fields about his first wife.

Here's one of my favorites from Dotty Parker! I just love it! I find it quite contemporary.

Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea;
And love is a thing that can never go wrong;
And I am Marie of Romania

-Dorothy Parker, Not So Deep As a Well (1937)

Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been?
I've been down to Washington to visit the King.
Pussy cat, pussy cat, what did you see there?
I didn't see nothin', 'cept for one empty chair.

Since you offer drink as a subject, I offer this:

There is the love of a beautiful maid
And the love her staunch true man.
And the love of a child, unafraid
Has existed since time began.

But, there is a love, the love of loves,
Even greater than that of a Mother
It's the passionate, meaningful, infinite love
Of one drunken sot for another!

Happy Holidays!

Obama folks say uh one, two, three, four! Hit it!


1 plus 1 is 2
2 plus 2 is 5
5 plus 5 is umpteen trill
And I don't give a shit shill


(repeat 2, 3, 4!)

Everything I know about poetry I owe to P.G. Wodehouse.

Bertie: A sensitive plant, what?
The Bassett: Exactly. You know your Shelley, Bertie.
Bertie: Oh, am I?

Ode to "O":

The flabby wine-skin of his brain
Yields to some pathologic strain,
And voids from its un-stored abysm
The driblet of an aphorism.
Forward!

Stolen borrowed & modified - from "The Mad Philosopher," 1697

Wait a minute! The reply I previously posted here has nothing to do with Dorothy Parker. Okay, editing to keep most equal places and organizational ethoses!

But anyway, the relevant portion of what shouldn't have been here in the first place except for the fact that Theo's most excellently equal postings got my collective creative juices flowing, even if DP didn't say it first, last, or, for all I know (which if it isn't Current Truth™, isn't worth knowing) not at all:

Father Theo, while it's not strictly poetry, it's music to our ears:

Make Sure that They're Hated

… Hey! Man you makin' more than me?
Take ‘im out
Ya gotta make sure that he's hated
Hey! Man you think different than me?
Take ‘im out
Ya gotta make sure he's berated

Hate, lies, death, we don't mind
Decency is dumb and morality's a cri-i-ime,
Hey rich man, take you away!...

It would've been done sooner, Comrades, but I find recovery from my most recent series of Jiffy-Lobo™s has been a bit slower than usual.

To quote the great Jonathan Swift: "My tongue is in the mouth of my friend" Either this...or this...not sure which.

Rex, I know the feeling of wondering how you got into some tavern.

Redumdimski, I find nothing wrong whatsoever with hating people. And I'm glad to know that you don't mind a little red-of-tooth-and-claw hating either.

We're progs. We are the smartest, bestest, fanciest, and most moral people in the history of the world. Until of course I find a reason to denounce one of you, or more, for not keeping up with the rage du jour. So anything that we don't have or which doesn't interest us must be destroyed.

That's it. If we don't care for it, no one should.

--------------

As far as Bertie goes, rem acu tetigisti.

My entry:

In the womb we are all blind cave progs.

What about this?

If a blind pig can find an acorn, a blind prog can find someone else's money. It's built in. Pigs have noses good enough to hunt for truffles. I, the madest of made progs, can count the money in a wallet from 50' away and appraise a rock on a woman's finger to with 0.01K and judge the cut and color and flaws.

But when I look in the mirror, I don't see a fat, lying, Stalinist thug.

See how well the People's Reality works?

Father Prog Theocritus wrote:Redumdimski, I find nothing wrong whatsoever with hating people. And I'm glad to know that you don't mind a little red-of-tooth-and-claw hating either.

Since we are conversing "in camera", as one of my favorite made Progs who shall here remain nameless is apt to express it, we can be brutally blunt: We are all about hate. Someone said "I will love you when you are dead", and that's our attitude about everything in a nutshell. We will love this nation now that the US of KKK is dead, and we loathe ourselves to death, for death is our ticket to love, since beyond it we see only oblivion. Some would say hell lies in wait for us, but we know that their hell is our nirvana, our utopia, our destiny. For the Christian view of hell is our concept of heaven - No god but ourselves, filling all that there is for us to know with only ourselves. It is what we seek here; the Christian hell is the ultimate expression of what we strive to create here on earth. For everyone. We are The People™, and we want ALL people to be with us where we are wont to drag them.

And we have such lovely ways of expressing our hate while we yet languish on this mortal coil. As an example, ThePeoplesComrade a short while ago provided our Collective with an image of Billy Maher at his finest. Indeed, his twisted and tortured expression of outraged depravity is the pinnacle that all of us could but hope to achieve. But Theo, I gotta tell you: Looking at that lovely sniveling weasely disgusting California-Howdy wielding pose, I see myself on any occasion when, just as Bill was, I am provoked to a similar pose upon hearing the vile rhetoric or even glimping the hated racist bigoted Islamophobic homophobic form of any bourgeois conservative KKKapitalist running-dog *spit*.

Commissar Redumdimski wrote: We are all about hate.

Maher_ThePeoplesComrade.jpg

Redumdimski wrote:We are all about hate. Someone said "I will love you when you are dead", and that's our attitude about everything in a nutshell. We will love this nation now that the US of KKK is dead, and we loathe ourselves to death, for death is our ticket to love, since beyond it we see only oblivion. Some would say hell lies in wait for us, but we know that their hell is our nirvana, our utopia, our destiny. For the Christian view of hell is our concept of heaven - No god but ourselves, filling all that there is for us to know with only ourselves. It is what we seek here; the Christian hell is the ultimate expression of what we strive to create here on earth. For everyone. We are The People™, and we want ALL people to be with us where we are wont to drag them.

[ off ]I am not religious in the slightest; not that I'm against religion, as long as it doesn't strap bombs on afflicted children to blow up others, but I don't get it. It's an honest befuddlement. But then I don't get sports either.

Rem acu tetigisti when you said that we have no god but our selves--that's the whole thing. Nature abhors a vacuum, and some decades ago, in the first blush of the doctrine of awarded self-esteem, they threw God off a pedestal, and smirked that there needed be nothing on the pedestal.

Which they then proceeded to climb. Nature hates a vacuum, as I said.

I'm going through an existential crisis of a bit now. What am I good for? I've made lots of money; I'm generous with people and with charitable causes. I can buy whatever I want. But what am I good for?

I think that I'm honest enough that I do not want power over people. Notice how people who can have what they materially want are not satisfied all the time; so often they strive for another thrill, and it's almost always power over other people. Notice that people who win the lottery normally have their lives destroyed by it.

I intend to keep working to give myself a purpose. But government is not making it easy, at least part of it.

The fascists in government are making my business nearly impossible, or the 2% of it which I hate but which I do because it's needed. I make 98% of my income providing title evidence for oil companies. Utterly unregulated. My reputation stands me in good stead, but it's a family business and we have a reputation of nearly a half century of probity and value and competence.

But I spend all my time for 2% of my income on closings, which requires nearly infinite obeisance to abstruse laws, and required documents which were two pages are three, and are set to balloon to five or six. Although there are perfectly satisfactory safeguards against defalcation, and there is bloody little history of defalcation with money, the bastards are trying to concentrate power as much as possible in big companies, when they can't get it themselves. And the big underwriters are perfectly happy with it.

Fortunately I don't have to do title policies and I shall exit. It will not be good for the county; it's a small one and I, cough cough, am the only competent one here, in a booming county. But I am being regulated out a business which I hated, but which I did because it needs to be done. But there is a point when doing what's right crosses over into masochism.

Comrades, the True Believers care nothing about this nation. All they care about is utter bloody-minded and ruthless power. If you want to tear the lid off hell and look on the inside, listen to Harry Reid. When he dies, they'll have to have an iron coffin to keep the corpse from stealing all the wallets in the room.

Sorry for this being somewhat inchoate. I'm in a definite who-cares? mood. I'm even thinking of burning through money that I have no confidence that I will be able to keep. Or keep the value of. First time in my life that I felt that America was set against me.

Hate! Hate! Hate! Anger! Anger! Anger! I love it.

It drowns out reason, charity, kindness, justice and love.

OBAMA LIMERICK

There once was a man named Obama,
Who caused us consid'rable trauma.
"Free health care's a right!"
He declared, "Day or night!"
Then kept robbing Papa and Mama.


A man in a bad, sickly way,
Went to see what his doctor would say
Said the doc, "you're in luck,
We'll just take 7 bucks...
Just one or two years from next Tuesday."




OBAMA IQ:

News from Washington:
Other people's money gone!
Now we are Chinese.

As to my favorite Dorothy Parker verse, it is the obvious one for four eyes like me:

Boys don't make passes
At girls who wear glasses.

Which I amend to "Boys don't make passes at girls who can't see" every morning while feeling around to find my own specatacles.
******************************************************************
COMPLETELY OFF THE BUNNY TRAIL
The origin of the phrase, "tit for tat":

There once was a woman from Sprat,
Who had triplets, Tim, Tom and Tat.
Though the breeding was thrillin'
The feeding was killin',
Because there was no.....

Princess Nookie wrote:OBAMA LIMERICK

There once was a man named Obama,
Who caused us consid'rable trauma.
"Free health care's a right!"
He declared, "Day or night!"
Then kept robbing Papa and Mama.


A man in a bad, sickly way,
Went to see what his doctor would say
Said the doc, "you're in luck,
We'll just take 7 bucks...
Just one or two years from next Tuesday."




OBAMA IQ:

News from Washington:
Other people's money gone!
Now we are Chinese.

As to my favorite Dorothy Parker verse, it is the obvious one for four eyes like me:

Boys don't make passes
At girls who wear glasses.

Which I amend to "Boys don't make passes at girls who can't see" every morning while feeling around to find my own specatacles.
******************************************************************
COMPLETELY OFF THE BUNNY TRAIL
The origin of the phrase, "tit for tat":

There once was a woman from Sprat,
Who had triplets, Tim, Tom and Tat.
Though the breeding was thrillin'
The feeding was killin',
Because there was no.....

A budding Tennyson. Laurels to you.Theocritus take heart - perhaps the point of life has always been living for others and not for government. More later (I hate typing on iPad)

Parker:

Candy is dandy,
But liquor is quicker.

Father Prog Theocritus wrote:Parker:

Candy is dandy,
But liquor is quicker.

Hear! Hear! Father Prog Theo!

And I say: Wine Not?

A quicker what? Death, or a simple high? That is the question.

Father Prog Theocritus wrote:I am not religious in the slightest; not that I'm against religion, as long as it doesn't strap bombs on afflicted children to blow up others, but I don't get it. It's an honest befuddlement.

Theo, I too do not get religion. I've mentioned that religion is merely man's attempt to get in good with God, whatever he conceives God to be, and we can't climb that high. Not to the true God, the Creator. But we make a mountain of rules that we hope we can stand on to pull ourselves up to Him. And then we fall down our own mountain, sometimes catching ourselves partway and climbing back again, and again, in a futile display of insanity; sometimes falling all the way down and giving up. So I can appreciate your honest befuddlement, because I too am befuddled by the behavior.

If you'd like, I can share with you my own story of how my life had become meaningless to me, and how my efforts to achieve happiness and fill my spiritual vacuum (with women and things) were ultimately vain and fruitless, and how God had called to me through various Christian friends who were in my life for at least fifteen years, ever patient, until I finally realized I was at an end of myself and needed a Savior, and that without Him my life would be over. Several times over, in fact.

So Theo, it was not until I recognized that God had gently, patiently, over a long period, scooped me up in His loving arms and showed me, through some of His people and in spite of my hard head and stiff neck, that the One I needed had been around all along; that like so many of us, I was running from Him. We are all Progs in our natural state, to the extent that we want to be our own gods – “We are the ones we've been waiting for” – even if we try to do good things and help people. And none of us considers himself evil. I'm sure Hitler thought he was serving his country. I'm sure 0bama thinks he's doing the right things in his rampage of destruction of our nation's foundations and assignations of heavy, crippling burdens on us.

Thankfully, God's nature is different from ours. We are His images. But we are His very flawed images. We try to lord it over others, to control them for our advantage, to take what we want – again, it's our Proggish nature, it's what we inherited from our original parents. And in so doing, we create little hells on earth for our fellow creatures, and often for ourselves. And then, like true Progs, we blame the consequences of our behavior and actions on God, and say, “Why does God let bad things happen to good people”, when there is none good, not one, but God. Living up to my handle, as I've written before, the correct question is, “Why does God let good things happen to bad people?” He sends His rain (and His sun) on the justified and on the unjust.

When Christ lives in us we don't do good things to try to get to God, or even to help others (but that is always the result when we serve Him well), or for our self-fulfillment; we do them to express our love for Him, for what He's done for us, and to thank and glorify Him, our Creator and Redeemer. He calls us to relationship with Him – to know Him intimately. Think of it, Theo. The God Who made heaven and earth, and all that in them is, wants you to know Him as you are known – and if you let Him, if you want that, He will let you know Him better than you could by yourself alone, better than you know yourself. He wants to give you assurance, and hope, and peace, and knowledge. This is not your home – God has a much better place for you. He will keep you and hold you up while you're here with the rest of us. And He will take you to the place He's prepared for you when your time here is through. If you want that.

God does not change, and His Word is always true. He keeps the sun burning, and the planets circling, and the earth rotating, and the plants and animals and us growing, cycling as the Earth, and your lungs breathing, and your heart beating, and your mind thinking. There is great evil in this world, but it exists in spite of God. In fact, evil exists to spite God. God allows evil and yet calls to each of us – through His creation, His creatures, and the ability He gives us to think and comprehend. Then He leaves it to us to decide if we want to acknowledge Him, and ask Him in our lives, to be His children (God is the ultimate “Gentleman” and Father), or if we want to deny Him and go our own way.

But when we go our own way, we do so at our peril. Each of us has a spiritual Father or father – heavenly, or earthly. If we do not choose One, we have made our pact and place with the other.

God made each of us for a purpose, and we do not usually have a clear vision of what that purpose is. Oh sure, we can exercise our natural abilities to become, for examples, a great inventor or businessman or athlete, but when we do not allow God to do His work in us we are never as effective as we would be. It's like a shovel that can dig a ditch largely autonomously that decides it wants to dig in rocks instead of dirt – it may be somewhat successful, but it will likely break itself and will not be as effective as it would if it dug a trench three feet away from the rock pile, as its owner had purposed it to do. And in the end, it will be destroyed. But unlike that autonomous shovel, you and I live forever. You do not end when your physical body can no longer support life. Theo, you can be assured where you are headed even as you live here. Your choice. So at the end of mortality, where do you want to be?

I'm glad I'm not God. If I were, Washington, D.C. would be a smoking hole.

Princess Nookie wrote:COMPLETELY OFF THE BUNNY TRAIL
The origin of the phrase, "tit for tat":

There once was a woman from Sprat,
Who had triplets, Tim, Tom and Tat.
Though the breeding was thrillin'
The feeding was killin',
Because there was no.....

BWA-HA-HA!

Oops!

I mean, "lol"!

Where do I apply for a copy of People's "Official Denunciation Request" form?

I.M. Craptek wrote:Where do I apply for a copy of People's "Official Denunciation Request" form?

Consider it done!

In that case, comrade, I withdraw my request.

If all the girls who attended the Yale prom were laid end to end, I wouldn't be a bit surprised.
~ Dorothy Parker

One she met a woman at a door and the woman opened the door for her, saying, "Age before beauty."

Parker went in, saying, "Pearls before swine."

She went to a party and found people doing a game. What was it, she asked? "They're ducking for apples."

"There, but for a typographical error, is the story of my life."

Women wouldn't leave a party before she did.

When she had a deadline (and she became increasingly alcoholic and incapable of work), she'd put a sign, "Gentlemen" on her office window, hoping an inquiry would keep her from working. Many writers, who have also run out of ideas, talk about how much they get done when they have a deadline. They get everything done but the piece.

I'm not a writer but do I get that.

Now Comrades, I ask you, is this not the epitome of Progishness?
The ever-wonderful Mike Malloy even exceeds our esteemed Bill Maher in his unabashed vitriol. And, that's saying something! This is true poetry.

Comradette Pamy, what an inspiring message from our Islamohost. But she really should shave those eyebrows. In fact, we shouldn't see her eyebrows. Why is she not wearing a burka?

Oh, wait - her name is Mike?

Pamalinsky, I am glad that you found the joys of Mike Malloy. He's on XM every night, across from Dr. Laura, to whom I sometimes listen to figure out how to poison the bitch. She believes in responsibility which is the LAST thing that I want.

Because I'm a Made Prog. I blew by personal responsibility years ago and only have personal smug self-satisfaction at the goodness of my intentions and no need for real honor.

I recall listening to Mike. First, he can't sell his commercials. Rock music. Don't know why. He cannot say conservative or right-wing without the prefix of psychotic or insane or both.

He every five minutes wishes death on people he disagrees with.

When we had the big ice storm, he said, "Now just because there's ice on 48 contiguous states for the first time, that doesn't mean that there's no global warming. All you insane right-wingers. That there's ice just means there's moisture in the air."

I teared up at that. I wondered why my freezer wasn't making ice cubes. No water.

Then, he told people to be careful. "Unless you're a psychopathic right-winger, then go to the mall and when you hit an icy spot, gun it!"

Death, death, death. Michael Moore: death. Julianne Malveaux (bad veal in French, perhaps): death. All we progs wish death on people who disagree with us because we cannot win on the facts, and so have no choice but to exterminate dissent.

Pamalinsky wrote:Now Comrades, I ask you, is this not the epitome of Progishness?
The ever-wonderful Mike Malloy even exceeds our esteemed Bill Maher in his unabashed vitriol. And, that's saying something! This is true poetry.

Ah. Now we know Joseph Heller's inspiration for Catch 22.