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A study released today by the highly respected Debbie Wasserman Schultz Institute of Thinking An' Stuff has found absolute proof that the only thing preventing Middle Class Americans from having their cake and eating it too is a self-perpetuating myth fabricated by GOP Vice-Presidential candidate and parricidal maniac Paul Ryan.

Vera Lowdanfat, lead investigator and former professional complainer from Chicago, told a stunned crowd of people stuffing their faces with cake that the oft-repeated adage is actually an old significant other's tale that was never taken seriously before the birth of Paul Ryan on January 29, 1970. "It's just not true," screamed Lowdanfat. "People had their cake and ate it, too, all the time before Ryan made this up! Why do you think Marie Antoinette said, 'Let them eat cake'? She knew that if the peasants ate cake, they would still have it, too, and so they'd never run out of food!"

The researcher further stated that Ryan began the false narrative as part of a conspiracy with serial hair-cutting dog-abuser Mitt Romney in order to guarantee one percenters like the Koch Brothers an endless supply of cake. Neither the Koch Brothers nor Romney could be reached for comment, which is a sure sign of their involvement according to an anonymous source speaking on deep background off the record to Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid.

The cake controversy is just the latest in a series of troubling revelations about the worst vice-presidential nominee by a Republican candidate since Sarah Palin. Last week, Hans Alwheys-Owt, a union organizer for the Detroit school system, claimed to have found proof that Ryan was the root cause of the high failure and drop-out rate in the city's troubled educational system.

"Ryan invented MATH!" claimed Alwheys-Owt at a charity affair designed to raise money for the re-election campaign of Barack Obama. "MATH is responsible for more of our kids failing and dropping out than any crack dealer! It's the worst thing to happen to education since the invention of the book!"

Alwheys-Owt presented evidence that traced the dreaded MATH plague back to Ryan as the source: "He's always using it! Nobody else uses it! Not even the Treasury Secretary or the Fed President uses it! Ryan MUST'VE invented it because he's the only one I'VE ever seen use it!"

While insisting that he was not suggesting that Ryan would use his deadly MATH invention to kill the wives of laid-off steelworkers with cancer if Romney were to be elected president, independent analyst David Axelrod noted that MATH has done terrible damage to the last 3 Summers of Recovery as well as the President's green energy program, ObamaCare and a host of other Democrat initiatives that Americans love.

"Look, ever since the New Deal we've had elite experts who've been able to print or borrow money out of thin air and make people's lives better with it... Now, along comes this radical lunatic who claims it doesn't add up! That's crazy! It's worked for 80 years! Now all of a sudden, it doesn't work anymore? You gotta be kidding!" stated Axelrod.

Other experts who didn't wish to be named concurred, stating that the MATH plague unleashed by Ryan is destroying the aspirations average Middle Class Americans have for a better life. "It's not fair", said one unemployed young man who was hoping to make a few bucks as a grass-roots demonstrator heckling Ryan at a campaign stop. "I borrowed a hundred thousand dollars to get a degree in Unicorn Anatomy and now no one wants to lend me money for a Maserati. This is all Ryan's fault. DAMN MATH! I HATE him. And where's my cake, I just finished a piece and now it's all gone!"

"If elected, Romney will cause even more problems than George Bush," concluded Axelrod. "And this time, Barack Obama will not be around to fix them."

Most informed observers agree the false narratives of dangerous politicians like Ryan and Romney will kill the hopes and dreams of the average person. Will the voters turn heartless and cold and sacrifice their brethren to the gods of MATH and limited cake or will they reach out to the less fortunate and reject the earthly hell of unfeeling, inhuman facts and figures? This November, we will find out.

I've never eaten the rich. How do they taste? (Though like everything else weird to eat that few people have ever tasted, I heard they taste like chicken.)

Ask Obama. He has lived many years in Indonesia and has had a variety of exotic experiences, beyond the pale for us earthlings. In some parts of Indonesia I know that there is still cannibalism. Obama might have visited.

Robert Fine wrote:I've never eaten the rich. How do they taste? (Though like everything else weird to eat that few people have ever tasted, I heard they taste like chicken.)

Red Square wrote:The next time they will tell us we can't eat the rich and have them too!

White House study proves "eating rich and having them too" is now possible.

-Commission on Great Discoveries-

So what kind of cake are we taking about? Chocolate? Yellow? Urinal?

"You can't have your cake and let your neighbor eat it too." - Francisco D'Anconia

Paul Ryan is just plain MEAN! He'll knock you down and take your lunch money!
https://www.americanthinker.com/2012/08 ... _math.html

Opiate wrote:Why do you think Marie Antoinette said, 'Let them eat cake'? She knew that if the peasants ate cake, they would still have it, too, and so they'd never run out of food!"

This is the solution! A perpetual-energy machine!
Do you see what you've done? You've made our triumph total and complete! And normally I don't use bang marks.

Lord O is entirely right then, and I blush to admit that I thought him as crazy as two waltzing mice, to say that spending didn't matter. All we have to do is eat our cake, and we'll have it too. Spend anything. Do anything.

We'll all be rich, and equal. Very equal.

But wait. If we're, uh, most equal, then what would that mean for a Made Prog? I'm worrying about this, Comrades. You know that there is no prog in the world nastier, meaner, more vicious, backstabbing and bastardlike than Father Prog. Hell, I give post-doc lessons in Mean Prog. This is a speciality of Prog, just as is Self-righteous Prog.

I refuse to surrender my position at the very summit of the dog pile. Of dead dogs, of course, but still it's a dog pile.

So this bit about having cake and eating it too must be stopped. Because it shows that if something works, like capitalism, spit spit, or this hideous new invention of yours, then we cannot be on top.

You can't oppress a rich man. Which is why people must never be rich.

Oh, are all of you in for a to-do at the Rancho? I'm going to have two pounds of Beluga caviar; all the Stoly you can drink, and out of paper-thin leaded crystal. Lobster americain, truffled mashed potatoes, braised haunch of rich, white liberal girl, who thought that we would eat her last.

Fools. Thank god they're deaf, and no one is as deaf as someone who refuses to hear.

Father Prog, you are an inspiration to us all. Not only have you reminded us that all progs must be equal (by any means necessary), but also that in order to achieve this dystoptia utopia, some progs must be more equal than others.

Enjoy your cake. That very thought of your particularly regal equalness makes my beet on beet sandwich taste better. The last time my BB&B sandwich tasted this good was when I found out a rich person was punished by the Party.

hehehe...

Always eat the main meal before your dessert, cake or not :)

Comrades
Discussion of cake is senseless when entire Peoples Republic is so clueless everybody is Toast. Not to forget, Commissar of Popcorn now prohibits intake of butter. Even though there are no Rich recipes in People's cook books am looking forward to gorging myself on a wealthy super model. Is my idea of a Hot meal.

Comrade Pistov wrote:Even though there are no Rich recipes in People's cook books am looking forward to gorging myself on a wealthy super model. Is my idea of a Hot meal.

When Dear Leader is re-elected there will be no wealthy super model, just super model. She has to spread that wealth around.

Still sounds like a hot meal though.

Czar, you understand the Procrustean problem. We prog loathe individuality--then we'd have to think. We'd have to judge, which is the impossible thing. I'm a prog because I'm a prog. That's it. Get it?

No reasons. I want to be. I'm a prog because I want to be.

So we progs confect Procrustean solutions. You know, the fellow that had one bed for travelers ancient Greece, where hospitality was a sacred honor. If the guest was too long for the bed, he'd chop off legs. If too short, he'd stretch them out with ropes and pulleys.

That's why Obamacare has death panels, and why should anyone over 65 need heart surgery? Except of course for us Made Progs. We get at least Sevruga when we have heart surgery.

The idea of free people making free contracts and exchanging money for services freely is an offense to me. Because how can I interfere and sustain the illusion that I'm really hot shit?

I can't. So let's rack 'em, boys and girls. Or get out the machete. People don't deserve individuality. Remember the halcyon days before the deregulation of telephones: they even thought of banning plastic telephone-book covers. Because they could.

Everyone hated the telephone company, which was over regulated and had formed a cozy symbiotic relationship with government. The phone company pretended to grovel; the government gave it other people's money.

Both were very happy.

Oh. I just had an orgasm.

Because I'm Father Prog, the meanest, nastiest...etc etc etc. You get it.

Don't forget another descriptive phrase that people often use when calling out to you :

" Theo...... where in the hell do you think you're going, you self-righteous bastard ?!"

Always on my favorites list.

We SE Asian progressives long ago discovered the secret to simultaneous cake-eating and -having: We ground the mountains of skulls of the Enemies of the People into a delicious flour for our cakes. We never ran out.

Of course it's another nefarious VRWC lie!

Never, never, ever, ever doubt the brilliance that is Dear Leader. (PBUH)
Do I, your lowly prole Shovel, have to remind you that Dear Leader can make damn near anything out of our tax money CORN including a never ending supply of the Peoples CAKE
for his subjects peoples.

ie - The Peoples Perpetual Corn Cakes ™ -


Top it off with the Peoples Tasty Creme ™ and we'll think
were the ones living like Kings & of course Queens!

or The Peoples Choice Bio Fuel ™ -

Actually Boss,
I believe I intuited a Premonition Paper channeled by the highly esteemed...

Cindy Sheehan Feeling Institute™

...related to the so-called Flying Pig issue, which instinctively conveyed the presentiment that just as Paul Ryan initially stated that he was all for Angel Piglets, he later waffled on this position after being criticized for holding the anti-Catholic belief that pigs have souls... just as he at one time stated that his favourite author was Ayn Rand, but later waffled on this position after he was criticized for promoting the works of an atheist and subsequently stated that St. Thomas Aquinas was his favourite author...

Clearly, he can't have his beliefs and express them too... And if this is, indeed, the general hunch held by such a forward-sensing loosely aligned group of self-aware empathetizers, we might ask ourselves to listen to our guts, when we find ourselves with an inkling that maybe this potential Vice President could possibly not be the best choice given that maybe, someday, he could end up being the President...

Not to put too fine a point on it.

Oh. Well, if this is an election between voting for an elephant in a room or voting for having cake and eating it too, I vote for cake and eating it too. I like cake. But I like those cupcake stores better because then I don't feel guilty about eating cake because a cupcake is so much smaller than a cake, you know? So really I'd rather vote for having cupcakes and eating them too. Cupcakes are a more responsible choice to vote for.

Red Square wrote:Margaret - I love you! Do you have a sister?

Yes, I do and thanks for asking. She's doing really well.

Ever noticed which side of the book the Cube is on in my avatar?

Red Square wrote:Sister - there is no fine point here.

In fact, you just pointed at a large elephant in the room that has previously managed to avoid detection by hiding behind the piles of mental junk in that same room.

(Memo to the Dept. of Housecleaning: don't touch this junk. The Party has positioned it there strategically in order to create a safe habitat for elephants in the room. If it looks like garbage, decorate it with awareness ribbons or something).

But back to our elephants...

he can't have his beliefs and express them too

happens when a critical mass of voters believes that...

You Can Have Cake and Eat It Too

It's either one or the other. We are now at a point when saying "You can't have cake and eat it too" makes one sound like a dangerous lunatic. But some scoundrels still secretly espouse that counter-revolutionary thought - even if they're too scared of us to say it.

The Party has invested a lot of effort into this. We put y'all in chains of political correctness. As a result, our opponent "can't have his beliefs and express them too."

But Ryan has defied the Party and made the first step to reverse the cake axiom. If he isn't stopped, the situation will soon deteriorate to a point when everyone will be able to have their beliefs and express them too.

Then everyone will begin to notice our red elephants in the room. We cannot allow that.

elephant_in_room.jpg

Sorry Boss,

Thought that's what I was saying. Clearly I was confused... which is not at all an uncommon state of affairs... or maybe I just wanted some cake... I like cake.

Awareness Ribbons already deployed... The Elephant is safe. I like Elephants.

Sis Out...

Have you read The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy? A magician bet his life that he could make a mountain invisible in a year. He failed. But he didn't realize that the solution was the Somebody Else's Problem field. It's a simple field that makes anyone who sees it pass over it. It's someone else's problem, and therefore invisible.

We in the Party have put a SEP field on the deficit. Lord O and Harry Reid cannot see it. It's someone else's problem.

But even better than the SEP field is putting an awareness ribbon on it. Let me propose a green ribbon for Financial Concern. I wear a green ribbon so I care so I'm good. We put a green ribbon at the bottom of the screen in every news story concerning the deficit and the borrowing, and therefore (1) we're aware, and (2) we mouth concern, so therefore (3) it doesn't exist.

By the way, the Flying Pig is the name the Secret Service gave to Nanski Peloski's 757. Actually it was the Flying Botox Monster but Flying Pig was used some too.

This is not to be confused with the Flying Spaghetti Monster. That's Michelle when her do doesn't do, and she looks like a Gorgon. Her natural state. You cannot believe what the CGI for her wedding photos cost. It took a decade's worth of Pixar profits just to make her look like, well, what she looks like now.

Father Prog, as a fellow programming unit it boggles my mind to even begin to imagine the millions billions trillions of lines of code it takes to accomplish that zingy, sexy appeal FLATUS exhibits these days!

Can you just imagine wading through THAT core dump? The one where she actually looks at the camera for a short but brief second? BOOM!!

The eyes are the mirror of the soul, they say. Divide by zero, I say.

And I say segfaults. Segfaults, dernit! Now 'scuse me while I get back to work on Flying Pig AI!

Father Prog Theocritus wrote:Have you read The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy?

Of course I have... "It is important to note that suddenly, and against all probability, a sperm whale had been called into existence, several miles above the surface of an alien planet. And since this is not a naturally tenable position for a whale, this innocent creature had very little time to come to terms with its identity. This is what it thought, as it fell: Ahhh! Woooh! What's happening? Who am I? Why am I here? What's my purpose in life? What do I mean by who am I? Okay okay, calm down calm down get a grip now. Ooh, this is an interesting sensation. What is it? Its a sort of tingling in my... well I suppose I better start finding names for things. Lets call it a... tail! Yeah! Tail! And hey, what's this roaring sound, whooshing past what I'm suddenly gonna call my head? Wind! Is that a good name? It'll do. Yeah, this is really exciting. I'm dizzy with anticipation! Or is it the wind? There's an awful lot of that now isn't it? And what's this thing coming toward me very fast? So big and flat and round, it needs a big wide sounding name like 'Ow', 'Ownge', 'Round', 'Ground'! That's it! Ground! Ha! I wonder if it'll be friends with me? Hello, Ground!...

Curiously, the only thing that went through the mind of the bowl of petunias, as it fell, was, "Oh no, not again!" Many people have speculated that if we knew exactly *why* the bowl of petunias had thought that we would know a lot more about the nature of the universe than we do now."

After all... I'm a dolphin!

Don't panic!
Sis

... So long, and thanks for all the fish
So sad that it should come to this
We tried to warn you all, but, oh, dear
You may not share out intellect
Which might explain your disrespect
For all the natural wonders that grow around you
So long, so long, and thanks for all the fish!
The world's about to be destroyed
There's no point getting all annoyed
Lie back and let the planet dissolve around you
Despite those nets of tuna fleets
We thought that most of you were sweet
Especially tiny tots and your pregnant women
So long, so long, so long, so long, so long! So long, so long, so long, so long, so long! So long, so long, and thanks for all the fish!
If I had just one last wish
I would like a tasty fish!
If we could just change one thing
We would all have learnt to sing!
Come one and all, Man and mammal
Side by side, in life's great gene pool!
So long, so long, so long, so long, so long... So long, so long, so long, so long... So long, so long and thanks for all the fish!

Sister, the bowl of petunias was Agrajag, whom Arthur Dent had killed before. As a fly, and he killed Agrajag as a rabbit and made a skin out his coat.

Which is just fine. As a good prog I intend to be skinned for the good of the party. Well, it will be a prole who looks like me, for we all must be skinned for the purpose of the party.

Also recall that Dent was also on ancient Earth five million years ago with the Golgafrinchins. You know, the telephone sanitizers, the hair dressers, all the people who really aren't needed in the world and who suck up all the oxygen. They were told that their planet was exploding so they'd have to emigrate. On all these star ships. The rest of the populace would follow, but it didn't.

And the captain spent all of his time in the bath. I wonder just who was being lampooned by that one; it took a while to learn whom W. S. Gilbert was lampooning by Sir Joseph Porter, K.S.C. in Pinafore.

ROCK, do not concern yourself with a core dump of a FLATUS program. I am of the opinion that Disney's animatronics has been employed to reprogram Moochelle so that she wouldn't act like, well, black trash, which is not how she was raised. I believe Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, although a four-fork family, were made of more honorable stuff than FLATUS.

Moochelle's brain is really a quantum computer. You know, it does everything all the time, like Adam's improbability drive in The Heart of Gold. She only needs three bits but I can promise you that she will without fail manage to come to a solution which will increase her ease, discommode other people, and cost the taxpayers money.

No core dump is possible. She's as non-deterministic as it is possible to be.

Oh, and that's the real meaning of non-determinism. Not random, but figuring out a way so that everything is for your benefit alone, and that the world is created for your benefit. So you can use it, and act like black trash. While your husband acts like white trash.

Oh dear. I must go flog a prole. Later.

Oddly enough, if you built a three mile high sign made of illuminated letters reading "FORWARD," and the weight of the letters sent it plunging for half its height through the subterranean offices of the IRS, they too would read "GO STICK YOUR HEAD IN A PIG" in the local language, and would no longer be illuminated, except on Obama's birthday.

Father Prog Theocritus wrote:But even better than the SEP field is putting an awareness ribbon on it. Let me propose a green ribbon for Financial Concern. I wear a green ribbon so I care so I'm good. We put a green ribbon at the bottom of the screen in every news story concerning the deficit and the borrowing, and therefore (1) we're aware, and (2) we mouth concern, so therefore (3) it doesn't exist.

Father Prog,

Allow me to present to you the deficit awareness ribbon.


And to help stop profligate spending, we can sell these for $5 apiece.

Betinov, although I share your concern, please do not say nasty things about pigs. Pigs are out best friends. I mean, they're loud, and they stink, and they're mean, but boy do they taste good.

I am in the process of doing some genetic experiments. Now I love our Many Titted Empress as much as the next prog; I must to have repaired the Rancho so many times after her tusks took out all the dry wall.

I love her mind. I really do. And her tusks, when she chooses to show them, are stellar. And her hooves! I cannot rhapsodize enough about her hooves. But really, when she's been on a week-long bender, you just cannot stand the smell of our MTE.

So I'm breeding a NeoSow. Genes from our MTE and the winning boar at the 4H show in Fort Worth.

In this way we can fill the entire world with piglets, and our MTE is the dam. They'll be vicious, nasty, and mean; they'll steal everything that's not tattooed onto skin.

What could be wrong with that?

Whinny, thank you. That's lovely. You know, if you made it a bit longer, and reinforced shall we say by piano wire, it would make an excellent bit of haberdashery for the up-and-coming prog.

Also we put in a slight remote-control device. Should our UACP say something ill-advised, shall we say, a slight tightening of the collar is indicated. How will they know they're happy until we tell them we're doing it just for us?

Then if one of them goes entirely off the reservation, a slight explosive charge will do the trick.

Father Prog Theocritus wrote:Also we put in a slight remote-control device. Should our UACP say something ill-advised, shall we say, a slight tightening of the collar is indicated. How will they know they're happy until we tell them we're doing it just for us?

Then if one of them goes entirely off the reservation, a slight explosive charge will do the trick.

You're quite welcome, Father Prog.

As you're well aware, since the advent of our Chitcago Play'ah-cum-Dear Leader O
Dongo, certain Changes™ have been made — more importantly, to the way technology is being perceived.

Since O'Dongo™ has handed NASA over to do diligence of ensuring our relationships with moozlims are warm and fuzzy, such uses of modern devices have been scrapped in favor of more efficient and modern moozlim technology.

For example, remote controls for the use of collar-tightening devices have been replaced in this sequence: a rational, tolerant adherent of the Religion of Pieces is handed a cartoonish picture of MOO-hammed. The target is pointed out to the peaceful follower, to which he brandishes his dull blade and SWOOSH! After a few unleashings of this more efficient and modern method — thanks to forward-thinking, modern moozlim technology — I believe a Pavlovian enlightening may be adapted by those who contemplate ill-advisement.

As far as any going off the reservation, I believe we solved that problem by having them all go off the reservation and then changing the rules that there is no longer any standard to measure what "off the reservation" means. Presently, we're working on "going over the cliff" to compensate.

Father Prog Theocritus wrote:So I'm breeding a NeoSow. Genes from our MTE and the winning boar at the 4H show in Fort Worth.

Father Prog, have you considered mating the offspring of your experiment — especially if it's male — to a pure-bred species only known in Massachusett as the "Bawney Fwankenswine"? I shudder the thought, but then again there's that little bit of curiosity...

Whinny, your idea of breeding the NeoSow to Bonnie Fwankenstein is an excellent one, and the results would be good. But there's a problem. Whenever Bonnie comes on television, talking with his paralyzed upper lip (how does he have fun with that? or someone else have fun with that?), Bruno starts shrieking.

"Look at her! Look at her! Her soles have seen more ceilings than Michelangelo!"

Don't think we'll get the Prog That Will Come out of that coupling, unless we find a couple of turkey-baster dykes who can help.

They might, if we offered them an arc welder. [ I'm not kidding about a group of dykes having access to an arc welder, at least in West Texas. ]

Whinny wrote:As far as any going off the reservation, I believe we solved that problem by having them all go off the reservation and then changing the rules that there is no longer any standard to measure what "off the reservation" means.

Ah, I see that you thoroughly understand the concept of "defining deviancy down."

We progs are so good at it. We never pretend to be moral so we cannot be called out for hypocrisy. Oh hell, if the lapdog media weren't in on it with us, we could be called out but it's not going to happen. After all, if the lapdog media had integrity, they'd have to do more than work their look and vent their elitist feelings.

But never, ever, ever claim to behave morally. Just feel moral, and you'll be all right.

Father Prog Theocritus wrote:Whenever Bonnie comes on television, talking with his paralyzed upper lip (how does he have fun with that? or someone else have fun with that?), Bruno starts shrieking.

"Look at her! Look at her! Her soles have seen more ceilings than Michelangelo!"

Don't think we'll get the Prog That Will Come out of that coupling, unless we find a couple of turkey-baster dykes who can help

Poor dear Bruno. How does he manage? For fear that his emotional instability might be put over the top, I won't mention what Bawney's knees may have seen.

Father Prog, I believe we can forego dykes and turkey basters. Consider this: we scrape the lining of his wife/husband/whatchamacallit's mouth for Bawney's semen and fecal matter and place it in a Petri dish in a controlled environment of endlessly looped Bawney Fwankenswine speeches and retorts to Rethuglikkkans. In a few weeks is anyone's guess, but I'm sure whatever it is will be as mean as a junkyard dog.

Father Prog Theocritus wrote:

Whinny wrote:As far as any going off the reservation, I believe we solved that problem by having them all go off the reservation and then changing the rules that there is no longer any standard to measure what "off the reservation" means.

Ah, I see that you thoroughly understand the concept of "defining deviancy down."

We progs are so good at it. We never pretend to be moral so we cannot be called out for hypocrisy. Oh hell, if the lapdog media weren't in on it with us, we could be called out but it's not going to happen. After all, if the lapdog media had integrity, they'd have to do more than work their look and vent their elitist feelings.

But never, ever, ever claim to behave morally. Just feel moral, and you'll be all right.

There is nothing more moral than acting immorally. Immoral actions are the best bait to find the bourgeois moralizers. Then, once your so-called moral behavior becomes passé, and you've beaten the moralizers into submission, then you find another controversial so-called immoral behavior and repeat the process until we all live in a libertarian Utopian anarchy were everyone is free to live as they like without fear of consequence.

Rikalonius, I am so glad to see you progressing up the steep ladder of prog correctness. Despite my foot on your head and Meow's stabbing you in the back. Like all good progs. (It's lonely at the top and that's the way we like it.)

Personally I am about to start campaigning for psephological necrophilia. Well, we progs have been necrophiles for quite a while; we keep beating the same dead horse. Those dreadful one-percenters.

But really, shouldn't we have a right to necrophilia? I believe there is a bull from an imam which states how long after death you can bang your wife. Before Mohammed doesn't like it. And of course based on his example, any child that's nine or older is just fine for a porkfest.

Trim your beard, though; prepubescent girl skin is tender and can easily get a rash.

So we'll state that necrophilia is part of our right, our very being, our consciousness, just as animal sacrifices are with Santeria. We'll defuse the problem of necrophilia.

And I don't want to screw corpses; they cannot scream or try to get away, and the very essence of being a prog is making people do something they don't want to do or don't see is in their worst interests. So, if there's no resistance in a corpse, what's the fun? A corpse can't scream, like a RethugliKKKan.

But here's the silver lining: once we screw them, or say we are, then we can vote them. I am buying even more hearses, er, ambulances for Jiffy-Lobo™. The ones we have for overenthusiastic treatment are not going to be enough. I plan to take all my Corpse Brides and Bridegrooms to every single voting district in America, in a stream of Jiffy-Lobo™ Transport Vehicles.

I have also written a computer program to make sure they are not voted alphabetically, as happened with Landslide Lyndon Johnson in Duvall County, Texas.

Whinny, the idea of a culture of Bonnie Fwankenstein's semen and feces in a Petri dish makes even this hardened old prog pale.

What if it grew and took on a life of its own? That would really be the Fwankenstein Monster. It could take over the world, the heir of Bonnie Fwank.

Bonnie only spewed shit out of his mouth every time he could--save that which was caught in his paralyzed upper lip. Now with the Fwankenstein Monster we could have real shit inflicted on the world. Shit, shit, shit. Verbal first, then real.

The true and total immerdation of all of civilization, and out of Bonnie Fwank's ass and mouth.

Which are frankly interchangeable. He does the platypus one better: his cloaca was used to pass bills too.

Father Prog, in your highly esteemed estimation, if said culture of Fwankenswine semen/feces in a Petri dish managed to "evolve" into a primitive endangered species, would it qualify as The Prog That Is To Come?

Whinny, you have had a brainwave. As you know, I once tried to confect the Prog That Will Come, hoping to have Jodin Morey sire one onto Janeane Gawdawfulho, but he was such a big, well, pussy that he kept going into a corner, covering his eyes with his front paws, and whimpering.

"So much pressure! I am non-violent!" And that after he emptied his pockets of a handful of change lest he thought to carry a weapon. "I am non-violent!"

So it was a no-go for Jodin Morey. Oh hell, even Bruno was laughing at Jodin Morey. "Look at that little tiddy baby, Theocritus. He can't even shave without crying. Did you see him nick himself? He called the Southern Poverty Law Center to start a suit against Gillette."

So the Prog that Will Come would perforce come out of a mutation of the semen and feces, and spit--remember it's all from the same cloaca--mutated into a slimy monster with a homing instinct for OPM and other people's rights.

Oh, and it would procreate by parthenogenesis. Because it learned from Bonnie Fwank. From Bonnie Fwank's cloaca.

And yes, I say that over and over but it makes more sense than anything else, including having him covered under the 14th Amendment.

Rikalonius wrote:Then, once your so-called moral behavior becomes passé, and you've beaten the moralizers into submission, then you find another controversial so-called immoral behavior and repeat the process until we all live in a libertarian Utopian anarchy were everyone is free to live as they like without fear of consequence.

Comrade,

You do understand that this process never resolves itself. There will always be a perpetuity when it comes to defining deviancy down, and then finding more deviancy to redefine down into collective commonality.

However, such terms as... "consequence", leave one wanting for a mo'betta nuance. This, too, will have to be redefined into something more palatably current. Something like, "[...]everyone is free to live as they like in perpetual progressive evolution".

Father Prog Theocritus wrote:So the Prog that Will Come would perforce come out of a mutation of the semen and feces, and spit--remember it's all from the same cloaca--mutated into a slimy monster with a homing instinct for OPM and other people's rights.

Oh, and it would procreate by parthenogenesis. Because it learned from Bonnie Fwank. From Bonnie Fwank's cloaca.

And yes, I say that over and over but it makes more sense than anything else, including having him covered under the 14th Amendment.

Father Prog,

Would a sheep's stomach suffice for a cloaca? That way we can add pieces of Ted Kennedy's cancerous, festering brain — only those select cuts that would have been cared for by Teddy's dream Obamacare™ — so that The Prog That Will Come can also be a great thinker. We can add a couple plugs from Joe Biteme's scalp, so our Prog That Will Come can be clean and articulate. If we squeeze Nanski Peloski's face we can extract some of that Botox elixir that is the stuff urban legends and modern folklore are made of. I'm sure it would only add character and sanity to the Prog That Will Come, and make sure he/she/it is wrinkle-free for at least a 1000 years. Aside from the fact that Bawney Fwankenswine's semen/feces is more than enough to make The Prog That Will Come one of the meanest, nastiest, foul-mouthed, lying creatures to ever come into existence (much like what Bawney's own mother said about Bawney after a botched abortion. Of course this was before O'Dongo was around to vote for infanticide — TWICE — while being a worthless piece-of-shit U.S. Senator. A real shame).

We can add other entrails and organ meats from either living or dead Prog heroes to the sheep stomach-cum-cloaca — much like a modern Prog haggis, and with all the nuance, compassion, tolerance, erudition, and of course clean and articulate, too.

But then again, we could also substitute Bawney's cleavage for a cloaca...

*Spit!* Ryan... *spit* what happened to the days when the evil kapitalist pigs went to get along to go along? We do not care that some comrades among us see this neo-kulak Ryan delivering minor capitulation! We must push for the days of Compassion Conservatism™ in which compromise constantly moved left.

I am sickened by the very thought.. er hmmm.. not that I had the thought.. but rather The Party gives me good thought that this Ryan is Big Pig of Kapitalists!!!!

Hmmm... where is Elephant to eat?

Leave that elephant alone!

Whinny, you do not give Lord Obongo full credit. He voted three times, not just twice, to kill babies after the abortionist didn't do the job in the womb. And after all, why not? It's so much easier to kill a child when it's in the air.

Haven't you seen pictures of Soviets and ChiComs shooting kneeling people in the back of the head? Haven't you seen pictures of ChiComs stomping on the heads of Chinese babies over the one-child-per-family limit?

We all know that life is a commodity, to be disposed of by the State. "You don't own your life" is the next Odongo mantra. "We own your life. And our death panel will be glad to assist you. Would you like some Putinka Vodka with your Soylent Green?"

I fear that some of the comrades here do not understand that they are a commodity and nothing more. Everything for the State, nothing outside the State. The State is bigger than we are, except of course for Lord O, who is bigger than the State because he dethroned God when he was immaculated.

Father Prog Theocritus wrote:Whinny, you do not give Lord Obongo full credit. He voted three times, not just twice, to kill babies after the abortionist didn't do the job in the womb. And after all, why not? It's so much easier to kill a child when it's in the air.

Haven't you seen pictures of Soviets and ChiComs shooting kneeling people in the back of the head? Haven't you seen pictures of ChiComs stomping on the heads of Chinese babies...

Father Prog,,

Forgive my misstep on the amount of times O'Dongo voted for infanticide. Afterall, he did it for his daughters that they may never have to suffer a "mistake".

Yes indeed I have seen those pictures of ChiComs shooting and stomping babies. This is mostly happening on the south and west side of Chitcago nightly, and double on weekends. We are talking about CHIcagoCOMmunists, aren't we?

Whinny, I knew that you would see The Light. Yes, my heart goes pit-a-pat when I think of Chicoms, and I'm not talking about the Peking variety.

But in a way I'm very sad. For years Texas was known as the home of thugs. Think of Landslide Lyndon Johnson, who was elected only after it was known how many votes would be necessary.

The votes came in in alphabetical order.

Now there's a prog that I can admire. An unabashed thief. And how can the ChiComs take over the mantle of total electoral corruption from Texas? Just because Johnson has been dead it doesn't follow that we can't be as corrupt and as progalicious.

Father Prog Theocritus wrote:But in a way I'm very sad. For years Texas was known as the home of thugs. Think of Landslide Lyndon Johnson, who was elected only after it was known how many votes would be necessary.

The votes came in in alphabetical order.

Now there's a prog that I can admire. An unabashed thief. And how can the ChiComs take over the mantle of total electoral corruption from Texas? Just because Johnson has been dead it doesn't follow that we can't be as corrupt and as progalicious.

Father Prog, This reminds me of the "Chicken/Egg" dilemma. Which came first: corrupt ChiComs creating an electorial system that always ensures the right people always win? Or did LBJ come up with a system that was later adapted by the ChiComs? My guess is that the ChiComs had their forward moving necro-voter policy way in advance of LBJ.

I find the similarity not so surprising the manner in which LBJ was elected — they knew how many votes they needed in order for him to win — and our latest glorious Impaler governor here in Illinoiz, who also had the advantage of using they same style of system — "finding" 20 thousand votes from none other than Crook County — to clinch the win. The apple certainly doesn't fall far from the tree... or chicken.

Whinny, my brother, who is an unrepentant KKKonservative, wants a Constitutional Amendment which prohibits anyone who has ever lived in Chicago from coming within 10 miles from Washington. They could go to New Orleans for the Crook Olympics, refereed by Marc Morial.

I think that you've hit on something about the similarity between the Democrat Party and the ChiComs. The ChiComs are ahead of us though: I've seen video of ChiComs putting a revolver to the back of the head of a kneeling, handcuffed man, and pull the trigger.

Now that's a necro-proxy voter. And he won't be asking any more awkward questions.

When are we getting that tool? I'm tired of this namby-pamby shit. I want to be able to put a gun to someone's head and pull the trigger! Then I wouldn't have to run for office or do any of this populist shit. We're progressives, you know, and it's an inconvenient, and temporary, fact of life that democracy is still, sort of, the standard in America.

Which is of course why America must be humbled, to destroy its pride, its ability to manage its own affairs. So that the starving American masses will reach out to a Savior, Lord Barack Hussein Obama, who will lead us from the Promised Land of America into his Promised Land: one of elites and proles.

The Jehovah's Witnesses I believe think that there will be only 144K people in heaven. That's generous. There won't be more than a half dozen Really Made Progs.

Father Prog Theocritus wrote:Whinny, my brother, who is an unrepentant KKKonservative, wants a Constitutional Amendment which prohibits anyone who has ever lived in Chicago from coming within 10 miles from Washington. They could go to New Orleans for the Crook Olympics, refereed by Marc Morial.

I think that you've hit on something about the similarity between the Democrat Party and the ChiComs. The ChiComs are ahead of us though: I've seen video of ChiComs putting a revolver to the back of the head of a kneeling, handcuffed man, and pull the trigger.

Now that's a necro-proxy voter. And he won't be asking any more awkward questions.

When are we getting that tool? I'm tired of this namby-pamby shit. I want to be able to put a gun to someone's head and pull the trigger!

Father Prog,

I second that Amendment. I don't believe anyone from Chitcago should even be allowed 5 miles from the city; forbidden to seep out even into the suburbs. They should build a 20-foot high concrete wall around the city boundaries with guard towers, manned with .50CAL machine guns and razor wire.

It's not uncommon for ChiComs to shoot proles in the back of the head while they have them kneel. It serves the same purpose as when barbarians used to put severed heads on the ends of their spears to set an example to those who have funny ideas. In this case, the example is for Rethuglikkkans and TEA Party people — who also have funny ideas. It's just another one of those Chicago Values™ we always hear the Tiny Dancer™ known as Rahm Emanuelle talk about.

Also, I don't know how the ChiComs do it, but somehow they have this extrasensory perception that they just know if someone is even hinting at switching to Rethuglikkkan. The media leaks it out, the photo-op begins, and then there's the shot heard around the city: one more necro-voter for the roles.

Don't ever expect Chitcago to purge their voter registration records. When Hell freezes over first.

Whinny, we have also underestimated the power of the We Are God Media. Remember how they worked on Chief Justice John Roberts? They told him of the history of the court and how he would besmirch it if he didn't vote that a blatantly unconstitutional law was constitutional, contorting himself more than a pretzel made by a spastic to find a legal solution.

Compared to Shitcago thuggery, this is genius. Tiny Dancer has his goons, of course; Lord O has his goons. But as far as never lifting a finger, never going to court, and only sneering, it is impressive to find that the Chief Justice of the U. S. Supreme Court, a man who until a few months ago was considered by both sides to be intellectually incorruptible, turned into a whiney, insecure, shrieking little girl who wants to climb in the lap of Diane Sawyer, who will rub his exposed soft underside.

Dear Father " Made Prog- Mindless Bastard " Theocritus,

A WORD OF CAUTION

You've really been on top of your game for the past few days.
Therefore, you are being watched by paranoiac eyes.
You know well the fate of intellectuals..... remember Trotski's "Mexican Vacation" ?

What a headache that turned out to be !

Theoretically you could have your cake and eat it too, if you baked your own cake. However it would be unrealistic to expect everyone to bake their own cakes, as centuries of racial and economic oppression have rendered most of the population unable to procure the resources to make a proper cake, which everyone knows is a homemade Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte with no less than three layers. People have a fundamental human right to not have to eat substandard cake, like that which comes from a 99-cent box of house brand cake mix from the grocery store staffed by oppressed wage-slaves. That some people might be content to eat Betty Crocker yellow cake is only proof that they don't know what's good for them. Better to have a triannually rationed sliver of Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte than to be subjected to the dehumanizing stigma of being seen browsing the cake mix aisle like some second-class citizen.

All right. This is Father Prog and listen up! Ooo-rah! Listen up!

What's this noise about baking a cake? I'm a mindless bastard, er, Father Prog Theocritus and I don't bake. I long ago passed even telling others to bake. I have people who tell people who tell people to bake.

I am at the top, the pinnacle, of the empyrean heights of people telling people telling people what to do for me.

Damn. I soiled my pants. I'll have to compare notes with John Kerry; we used to have contests on the phone about telling people to do things for no virtue of our own, but only for the virtue and money we'd stolen or married.

"I told a widowed checker at a 7-Eleven with five children that she should feel guilty that her children were eating food while Bangladeshi children went hungry. So she signed them up for free lunches and sent the money she had been feeding her children to the DNC, which as you know sends ALL that money to Bangladesh."

John said, "Ah, uh, well, that's good, Father Prog, but you see the children didn't really starve. If they're nourished they might learn something and not be progressives any more.

"You're a tyro, Father Prog. Look at me. Here I am, a man with no talent and looks like a gay Lurch. (Hell, If I were Lurch I'd have an affair with Thing; it would beat the two broads who've been bankrolling me all these years. Or hell, Cousin It. Really. Have you heard Terri when she's in full throttle? Makes your scrotum disappear.)

"Anyhoo, where was I? Throwing my medals? Oh. Someone else's medals? Sorry. That was a fugue of self-righteousness and those are freaking hard, you know.

"And here I am. Really. I have nothing. I am nothing. But I have the SMARM gene. I can always get a woman to think I have more than I really have, and sire a few kids on her, then leave her as soon as I meet Mrs. Big Ketchup, who had about three times more than my first dam.

"Now I've done the math. I put a sentimental value on my children's legitimacy but three times the amount of the first wife's fortune. Uh, what was her name? I don't recall.

"So there. Look how much I've done with so little, and how many people I've hurt. I'm a bigger prog than you are."

"Bullshit, John. I'm getting a kickback on https://www.terrapass.com. Every time that some poor fool donates money for carbon this and carbon that, I get some of it. Hell, it's all bullshit and was meant for my pocket. A fool and his money are soon parted."

"That's great, Father Prog, but you're still a callow fool. I have been one of the most ardent supporters of green energy, including ethanol. In this I am cheek-by-jowl with the Goracle.

"And here's how we prove you're a fool. We have made it required to put ethanol in gas. Although science says it's more polluting. Although it's raising food prices here at home. Although it's causing food riots in Mexico.

"Al and I have sneered and caused inflation and starvation just so we could talk about good we were. We're still up here. They're not able to buy food at all.

"So, dear Father Prog, I win. I'm the most vicious prog. For now."

I listened with growing horror. I realized that he was in effect right.

It hit me, it came on me like the roar of a freight train. My world rocked. I had the Ultimate Prog Orgasm. I had been been wanked--prog sex--over the phone by John Kerry, the most self-righteous mindless bastard of all time.

Unless he's in Washington and then it's within 100 feet.

[ off] What. Did I scare everyone. You all know that there is a very strong correlation between power and sex. And personally I really do think they're that self-righteous.

I have cake. I am a chicken. And I am not afraid Father Prog.

Now watch me eat this.

I too am not afraid of Father Theo - but I must admit that Bruno worries me a bit.

May I have a bite of your cake elephant?

Oh, Bruno scares the hell out of me too. You really ought to see him on poppers. Well, you ought not see him on poppers. It's not for the faint of heart. The sight will make strong men pale, women faint, and children cry. And even the most mindless bastard prog, i.e., moi, blench entirely white, almost to albinism.

It's when his beady eyes become unfocused. It's sort of like watching Nanski Peloski give a speech. They're both seeing into the middle distance and seeing something that isn't there.

Now I know that Bruno has nothing which even a planarian worm would call a brain, and we know that Nanski's brain is perfectly smooth from the botox given by increasingly long needles which penetrated her osteoporosis-soften skull. And I know that her brain is just rattling around in her skull, or would be if there weren't the force field of her superheterodyne, phased-antenna-array tin-foil hat.

So it's particularly distressing to see someone whose mother wouldn't even call intelligent or reasonable start staring into the middle distance and start mumbling. The fingers twitching. That fleck of drool at the corner of the mouth. The eyes not QUITE tracking the same thing. The dissociative affect.

Then I realize that we are breeding the perfect prog. I, Father Prog Theocritus, am proud to be the Madest of the Made Progs, having even made up that entire taxonomy, realize that my time as a Made Prog must soon end because I seem to have more brain than is necessary for a truly Made Prog.

I blush to admit this, but in the middle of the night, I wonder if I really needed to steal the pencils from that blind man's cup. I wonder if I really needed to support looting 3/4 trillion dollars from Medicare to pay for Medidontwanna patients. I wonder if I needed to calumniate those servicemen who were merely speaking out for their country. I wonder if I needed to excoriate some poor half-witted Todd Akin.

But most of all I wonder about unleashing Bruno on the world. Bruno. A monster of self-entitled vanity. He worships in the mirror. He cares for nothing but his own immediate gratification. He has no use whatsoever except as a warm body which can reliably get pissed off and shout. He has utterly no value.

He's the Modern Prog. And like the Samurai warriors, all we old progs need to bow out to let the new generation, which is truly mindless, not just a mindless bastard, but truly mindless, take over.

After all, there will be no Progressive World of Next Tuesday™ if anyone can remember the shameful old days of inequality, i.e., those days when virtue and work meant something and prudence was rewarded and random anger looked down on.

The New World will depend on not knowing the old one, just as Stalin murdered about 800,000 soldiers who were against their will repatriated to the Soviet Union. Stalin knew that if they talked about the bigger world, then he would have slave revolts. So they were murdered.

Now we old progs have to retire so that there will be no one to know about the days of AmeriKKKa's freedom. Because it was all a lie.