Comrades! Have you ever had that uncomfortable feeling of being, well, too fresh? Have you ever wondered if you were entirely too free? Have there been times when you thought that you might have to make your own decisions, have your own ethics, and actually make up your own mind?

Do not despair! Help is at hand. Just call 1 900 ENSLAVE ME and a friendly commissar on the other end of the line will tell you that your life is neither your fault nor your responsibility but someone else's. A soothing totalitarian voice will reassure you that it is just fine to feel that rage that someone somewhere is doing something that you don't like even if you don't know who that person is or what he is doing.

A friendly thug will tell you that soon all the world will be in submission, either to the state or to Mecca, which is much the same thing. And most of all, your kind and caring commissar will relieve you of any worries about ultimately being responsible for yourself for you will be wrapped in the strong arms of the State, which will succor and nurture you and see to all of your wishes. In its own terms, of course, but that's what you, as a good comrade, want, isn't it? The perfect freedom of having no responsibility for yourself.

Just by calling 1 900 ENSLAVE ME you will lose 98% of your property, but your neighbors will too! You will lose all of your freedom, but your neighbors will too! You will have every action that you take dictated to you, for the Common Good(tm), but your neighbors will too! And although your standard of living will drop to that of a third-world country, it will happen to your neighbors too!

1 900 ENSLAVE ME. Call today. It's what every self-hating, freedom-loathing comrade needs. And you know who you are.

I hate freedom, but I really, really hate being told what to do by people I deem as, well, not me. Can I enslave myself to, uh, myself? Is that possible? I think I would enjoy telling myself what to do and waking up every morning to serve myself with a smile.

While I welcome the chance to give my soul self over to a stern commissar who will discipline me as only a commissar can, I noticed that it's a 900 number. Now, I'll happily give up 98% of my property, my self-esteem and my future but I think I need to know what the connection and per minute charges will be. Is that how you get the 98% of my property or is it extra? Hey wait a minute, this commissar will discipline me, take almost all of my property as the commissar's, I'll lose my freedom, self esteem, have every action dictated to me. The commissar must be my ex, that explains everything!

Hello 1-900-Enslave Me......? Yes, I am an employed right wing Christian male and I'd like to talk to a petite little Commissarka that will tell me that I am a filthy, dirty, law abiding Republican because I pay my taxes on time! Ooohhh..she can then tell me I'm a facist war-mongering pig because I support the Troops in Iraq. I hope she will also call me a "bitter" redneck hick because I own several guns.... Will she make me grovel around on the ground because I endorse Home Schooling???....And then maybe, just maybe she'll crack her whip because I don't believe that you can resolve a recession by deficit spending your way out of it..... Hey, how much will this cost again??

Comrades you're sending a tingle up my shovel with that talk! I'll redistribute everything in my wallet to hear more of that talk! Call me a racist! Denounce me for not being PC enough!!! Now who is patriotic!?!? Ohhhhbama! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhbama!!!! You're gonna make me talent shit! Ahhhhhhhh.... Got a cigarette?

Meow wrote:I hate freedom, but I really, really hate being told what to do by people I deem as, well, not me. Can I enslave myself to, uh, myself? Is that possible? I think I would enjoy telling myself what to do and waking up every morning to serve myself with a smile.

Of course you can, Meow, of course you can. Calm your palpitating heart. Be still and smile.

You're <i>special</i>, dear Meow. Sister and I have had <i>many</i> conversations about how special you are. And you may enslave yourself to anyone that you want, as long as you do not have any ostensible personality left for the bemusement of the Little People.

Which says nothing about how you actually proceed. Take a tip from, oh, Tom Faschle Daschle and Bill Richardson and all those other appointments of His O'liness, who know, because they're <i>special</i> too, that laws just don't apply to them.

Remember the words of our patron saint, Leona Helmsley: "We don't pay taxes. Taxes are for the little people."

Meow, take a deep breath and repeat after me: "I am nothing and I am a progressive. But since I acknowledge I'm a progressive I have a right to shit on everyone else."

There. Feel better?

Robot, I fail to see how you can profit from invoking the spirit of John Maynard Keynes. After all, he's a DWEM and a poofter to boot. Or was; spending OPM made him marry a Russian ballerina, and there is a lot to think of in that alone.

But I do have some advice. If you insist, and I use that word carefully, on admitting that you pay taxes on time, I suggest that you admit it only to a shrink. Because you are treading a fine line here. If you want to be considered for the administration of His O'liness, you have to be crooked enough, and dismissive enough of the laws, to fit in--what price ACORN?--but you have to have your (cough, cough) moral lapses recondite enough that they won't be dug up.

So the simplest solution is Deny, Deny, Deny.

Well, it worked for the husband of Our Many Titted Empress. What's his name?

Vodkavich, when you do your talent shitting in an orgasmic rapture over His O'liness, and the <a href="https://www.jessicaswell.com/mt/archive ... ments">Hot White House</a>, please know that you have to stand in line to admire the soles of the shoes of His O'liness.

Because only a saint could get away with all these people. A normal run-of-the-mill, garden-variety mortal would have been booed out of existence by the media, who are nothing if not fair.

Nicht wahr?

What a wonderful idea, kind and generous leader. I called 1 900 ENSLAVE, unfortunately they could only max out one credit card at a time.

You need to put a disclaimer at the beginning that if your card limit is lower than $5,000 that you should hang up call your credit card company and get your limit raised. That low limit does not even get you through the beginning announcements. Perhaps a line of credit should be established prior to the first call.

Commissar Red Star CEO Hemlock Hospitality Inc
Director of kicking doors at Midnight
Keeper of the sacred Plasma Cutter
Herdsman of Rainbow Farting Unicorns
Keeper of the faith

I'm thinking instant approval for home-equity loans. Now we'll have the change RESPA which requires a three-day right-of-rescission, but that's easily done. I mean, what's RESPA if we have RICO? After all, getting rid of a cooling-down period is small beer compared to the feds seizing your property under the presumption that you're guilty.

I love how they do it. Here in Texas it's common for Mexicans to club together and pool all their money. One man will come over with say $10K in cash and buy up old farming equipment that is too expensive to fix here. But there is cheap and capable labor in Mexico. He and one or two others take it back to Mexico and they fix it up, the farmer gets some cash, and it's recycled.

Our law-enforcement thugs and goons highly trained law-enforcement officers think that some old Mexican couldn't possibly have a reason to have $10K so it must be drug money and so they seize it, giving a receipt for an undetermined amount of money. He has to put up 10% to even start fighting the seizure, and he has to <i>prove</i> that the money is his; the officers have time with OPM, and without any acknowledgement of how much it is. And a percentage of what gets back to the station house is kept. By the station house.

Gotta love that progressive law!

Comrades, the people will be made to understand that freedom is a poor substitute for a free ride at the expense of others.

Oh, Whoopie, we'll just use lots and lots of guilt to make them shoulder the burden and then <i>still</i> feel guilty about it.

Finally, the Hope and Change we have been waiting for! I presume there will be none of that Fourteenth Amendment whining about "seizure without due process" crap (how DARE the reactionary Suzette Kelo try to obstruct the state's taking of her property for The Common Good^TM!!! Bad, bad, bad, Suzette Kelo!)

But, why do I have to call the number MYSELF? That is a decision; it requires me to do stuff for myself like find a phone, dial it correctly (I do hope I don't dial Rush Limbaugh's radio show by mistake) and then tell the person on the other line what it is I'm calling about! I don't know how to do all that finding and thinking and talking myself. I bought a million dollar home with a negative amortization reset-in-2-years-to-10-times-the-prime-rate no-down-payment lose-your-shirt option ARM because the salesperson told me I was entitled to own it. I voted for Obama because everyone said he was the messiah and he would pay for my gas and mortgage. I can't do anything unless someone instructs me every step of the way. Wah! Why can't the 1-900-ENSLAVE people call ME????

I will be sitting on my couch eating cookies and watching Oprah while I wait for your call. Don't let me down! Remember, you HAVE to take care of me! Obama promised!

Can I enslave myself to, uh, myself? Is that possible?

To elaborate on Theo's post in reply to this request, simply dial the number and when prompted, press "6" for the "Self-Serf" option.

Brain in a Jar, Opiate, I'm thinking that here we have a possibility for new technology. Motorola has posted a loss of over $2b. Palm went from a $800M profit to $250M loss when the iPhone came out.

These people need jobs. They can develop a one-button telephone which is put on the Roomba
and which follows you everywhere, like an R2D2 based on a 1T4 vacuum tube.

You're in the kitchen? It calls 1 900 ENSLAVE ME. You're getting rid of your efforts in the kitchen? It slips under the door and calls 1 900 ENSLAVE ME.

The first few paragraphs sound like a porn ad for us Progressives. However, as we all know, us and the proletarians own nothing, The Party owns it.

Elliott, of course the party owns everything. But the trick is to be the bailee of what you want. That way you get to live in the manse and have others pay for it and look down your nose at others from the empyrean redoubts of your moral superiority.

Yet the irony is others are doing the same. . .

Elliott, do not be snared by irony. Because that implies a view bigger than your own self.

Phew. OK. Here I go. I am nothing and I am a progressive. But since I acknowledge I'm a progressive I have a right to shit on everyone else.

Wow, I feel better already -- with the exception of knowing that you and Sister have had many conversations about me. Maybe you and Sister are plotting to denounce me? Maybe you're trying to usurp my vast wealth! Yes! That's it, isn't it? You're after my money!

Well, I can assure you I have no money! Ha! That's right! I... I gave it all away to the, uh, to the peons who plow my fields -- fields that now belong to said peons, Theocritus!

Yes, I am turning a new leaf, Comrades. For now on I will devote myself to the Party and the service of others! Yes! And... And I will wear rags and thump the manifesto and decry the worldliness of my fellow Comrades! I will be a shining example of a good Party member -- modest, humble, self-righteous and bloodthirsty. Glory be the Party!

Now then, I do plan on keeping my trinkets, homes, cars, suits, jewelry, Hummels, boats and my new Vegas penthouse in order to *remind* myself of how awful it is to have such luxuries. Yes, I will use Luxury Shame as a way to keep me on the straight a narrow!

I have a great idea! I will drive down Madison Avenue in my limo full of shame and will then make others around me feel the guilt, misery and contempt I have for myself. Yes! I will make everyone miserable knowing that I live luxuriously!

Oh it will be wonderful! Just wonderful!

Oh, Meow, how you have touched my plebeian heart. For I'm so glad to have a heart--I've seen it on a fluoroscope--that plebeian is small beer for me.

How could you possibly suggest that Sister and I were plotting to denounce you? You are dear to us, Meow, very dear. So dear that we were wondering how to get back some of the things that you had temporarily relocated to your dacha in the People's Republik of Virginia. After all, she's in Kanuckistan and I'm in the People's Republic of Texas, and so we naturally want things returned, after the lending is over, to their rightful homes. And the rightful home is <i>not</i> the People's Republic of Virginia.

This old socialist's eyes teared over at your proclamation that you were turning over a new leaf. I do it at least once a week and it's very healthy for me. And sometimes I actually get a whole 24 hours with the new leaf! Praise Lenin.

How, dear Meow, could you thump the Manifesto more than you do? There is not a single thing that is too low, base or vile for me to think that you are incapable of it. My eyes, again, tear over with respect and love, Meow--you are unique in commissars in being utterly nasty, thieving, and shitty. I have it on good authority that Rahm Emanuel curses you every night.

Comradette Rahm wrote:I've tried and tried to be the meanest and nastiest partisan mother on the face of the planet and no matter what I do, that bastard Meowsevich manages to steal a march on me. It's not fair. I've <i>never</i> been kind or good or generous, and Meow has, without even trying, been even worse than I have been!

Oh dear Meow. You light up my life.

Comrade Vlad, is this highly progressive comrade perchance a friend of yours? I think he may need our help and support! As reported by the evil Faux NewsQuax:

'The Impaler' Jailed After Allegedly Harassing 'Vampire Hunter'

Doctor, sometimes I forget that some of our newer recruits to the shining light of socialism may not know a touch of Cube history. Meow is Chairman Meowsevich S. Punchenko.

And, Doctor, thank you for the link. I find vampires very amusing--after all, merely sucking blood? I snap my fingers at such trifling activities. I am a Made Progressive and I suck out the very life from people. People are evil, Dr., evil, because they're selfish. They do not want to surrender to the perfection of the totalitarian state. Everything for the state, nothing outside the state, as dear Benito M. used to say.

A pint of O+? The only use I have for other people's blood is to make really Bloody Marys for Our Many Titted Empress when she comes down here, and I'm damned careful. One time I ran out of Coumadin and she choked on a clot. The redecorating cost $250,000 and the lives of three wets.

Commissar Theocritus wrote:Elliott, do not be snared by irony. Because that implies a view bigger than your own self.

True, I shall now erase this from my head
(off)
True, I shall now consider you wrote that with your character on, and will still consider the irony of liberalism.

Blogunov, I do take your point and share your concern. But keep your weapon idle. We need these people and their righteous anger. Nothing is more important than their righteous anger. We can use their righteous anger.

These people will be needed to play Devil's Advocate before the beatification of His O'liness, which will occur even before he reaches room temperature. It's easy with a man who has never scuffed the sole of a new shoe.

I think that you can play them off each other. "Loser B, the reason you're behind Loser A is that he has more points on the grievance scale. Loser A is putatively female, sexually confused, with a learning disability--we have to swipe her Lone Star card for her when she buys food. In addition, she's fat and ugly and is 1/3 Inuit and 1/5 black. Whereas you are all of those things but you're only 1/7 black.

You lose.

See? It's merely the calculus of the spoils system.

But we must understand His O'liness not giving up Air Force One. He could of course merely levitate himself there but what to do with Helen Thomas and Charlie Gibson? They think that they can fly but they cannot. And you cannot expect Helen Thomas to cover a presidential trip without a full-service kitchen being hard by.

Also let us not be too hard on the economy. Do you recall when Mr. Clinton was elected? I do. It's burned into my brain. Before he even took office his staff was bruiting about that the economy was turning around <i>just in anticipation</i>!

And also do you recall how Reagan didn't improve the net worth of America? The comrades who did that put in Jimmy Carter's last year instead of starting at the Reagan tax cuts. Now that's how to lie with statistics.

Brilliant.

Commissar Theocritus wrote:Doctor, sometimes I forget that some of our newer recruits to the shining light of socialism may not know a touch of Cube history. Meow is Chairman Meowsevich S. Punchenko.

Comrade Vlad,

I, of course, am well aware of The Chairman. We hear of his exploits (and I really do mean EXPLOITS) even here in the furthest lands of the illegitimate southern breakaway region of the DPRK. I was referring to "The Impaler" mentioned in that unmentionable "news" source.

Yours always in The Revolution,^TM
Dr. Strangelove

Dear Dr., of course I should have known that you'd be very <i>au courrant</i> with the exploits of the chairman. In fact he has over and over gloated about how when he was at your...

Oh. I forgot. He told me that in confidence. But if I were you I'd be very sure to get some Cipro. Don't take it for more than two weeks though even if the lesions don't go down.

Meow is such a sharing and kind creature--he is determined that his weeping sore and lesions will be shared by all. Well, not quite all; Bruno is immune from Meow's weeping sores and lesions for even they can't get past the real mangos on his head and the false ones in his chest.

Yes, Meow is definitely a funny one, and I would have been disappointed, nay, insulted had he not attempted something against me. Apparently the ruffies I slipped into his Putinka gave him some really wild dreams as I pump-extracted a batch of ooze from his weeping sores to send to Dear Leader up North to aid his biological weapons program search for a cure at the People's Revolutionary Juche Center for Disease Control, a government charity to save The Children^TM who were intentionally infected.

Dr. I understand, and applaud your research efforts. May I offer advice? I've had Meow here many times, that is had him as a guest at the Rancho. I have over the years been forced to develop various sanitation routines.

First, when Our Many Titted Empress comes over to romp with Nansky and the Hildo Turbo-Hydramatic. The mess is amazing.

Second, when Meow passes out and the, er, purulence of his weeping sores and lesions sometimes defies the laws of gravity. I once saw a tidal pool of the green-and-ochre pus actually crawl <i>up</i> a table leg. Because I'd put a quarter on the table.

After you finish your experiments, which could easily top Fleming's, I suggest that you follow my cleaning regimen.

First, heat Varsol to just below the flash point. That's important. Once Bruno let it get too hot and that's why I'm in Rancho de Rio Grande II. Use fire hoses to sluice out the room with the nearly boiling Varsol.

Second, 200 proof grain alcohol. Let it dry.

Third, Sulfatrim and Rifamdin. That will take out the MRSA.

Fourth, another fire-house treatment of nearly boiling naphtha.

It's hard on the furniture and you may have further outbreaks but it's worth it.

You'll know you have to do it again when you find that all the spare change that you have is gathered up in the corner under what looks to be every lugie ever hawked from every nose on earth.

Comrade Vlad,

While your method sounds much more entertaining, I prefer to not have Meow inside my dacha. Instead, I have a group of violent thugs The People's Workers, Guardians of the Juche, erect a Potemkin dacha made from a simple wooden frame and walls with a facade out front made to look like my home. The Chairman is usually so loaded excited to see me by the time he arrives that he doesn't even notice or care. As an extra precaution, I give Meow a latex rubber smock to wear, and he seems to really like it since I have them made with a picture of 'Che' on the front and pink lace ruffles with fake silk bows stapled around as trim for the edges. After our visit is over, I have the Juche Workers douse the inside walls and floors with The People's Cocktail Mix^TM and light it on fire. In the future, though, I think I will follow your routine and then finish it with mine. You can never have too much fun be too safe!

Dr. S

Dr., your Potemkin dacha is a wonderful idea. Unfortunately Meow knows what the Rancho looks like and if I don't let him he, he sits outside and wails and wails and wails, which causes Bruno to do the same, to the point that I beg Bruno to put on Streisand. Yes. That bad.

But you've given me an idea. I'll tell him that I've installed a gatehouse which he needs to come through. It's a hospitality suite, you see, and I'll have all sorts of fancy liquor there. Well, it will be in fancy bottles but it'll just be plain old rubbing alcohol. For some reason those weeping sores and lesions have made him immune to the poisons in them.

Have you ever woken to find him stuck, gecko-like, to your window like a vampire? Most unsettling.