My fellow comrades:

ABC News is urging the masses to submit their stories about the many terrible ways their lives will be ruined by Republicans in the event of a government shutdown.

Here is my story, based on a conversation over a meal at my dacha:

I am contemplating my breakfast of Eggs Faberge, served with the portrait of Empress Alexandra facing me—or put another way, Sunny Side Up (I'd give Beet of the Week to the first person to correctly get that reference, if only the Republicans weren't threatening to defund BOTW on the grounds that it's “partisan, rigged, and frivolous feel-goodism disguising ‘shakedown socialism' through its phony ‘Give Back' program that's nothing more than another money-laundering scheme”**).

My male oppressor sits across from me, wearing his eyeglasses that he got from the VA. He says they haven't been working so well lately, that things are getting blurry and giving him headaches, so he needs to make an appointment with VA for a new checkup/prescription.

I tell him, “But if the Republicans shut down the government, you won't be able to make an appointment with the VA. And by the time Obama gets it up and running again, it'll be too late. You'll be blind, and it'll be all the Republicans' fault. If you don't believe me, just ask any Democrat.”

He ponders this. “Hm, this could cause problems. If I'm blind, I won't be able to find my keys.”

“You can never find your keys anyway. I always have to find them for you.”

“And I won't be able to look for the remote control you keep hiding from me. For that matter—HOLY CRAP! If I'm blind, I won't be able to see the NFL Draft!”

(Which happens to fall on the same weekend as the Royal Wedding, but I keep my glee to myself. Plenty of time to smile and dance with delight after his vision goes totally kaput—which, according to the Democrats, will happen the minute the government shuts down.)
~

Smugly, I say, “No, dear, you won't be able to see the NFL Draft at all. And it'll be all the fault of those evil Republicans you keep voting for.”

Desperate, he grips the edge of the table and stares wide-eyed at his cereal bowl, as if he knows that due to his Republican-induced failing eyesight, he's looking his last upon things like spoons and soggy Beet Flakes in a Corelle bowl. “I can't give up. I mustn't give up. I'm a Republican, dammit. That means I don't give in to anyone or anything. I don't budge. I STAY THE COURSE!” He pounds his fist on the table. “When the government is up and running again, I'll just call the VA for an appointment. Now pass the sugar, woman.”

“It's right in front of you, not that Michelle thinks you need it, anyway. Obviously you're already going blind because of the Republicans' hateful, intolerant, mean-spirited policies. You may as well forget about calling the VA. You won't be able to see the telephone to dial them, anyway.”

His mouth full of Beet Flakes, he says, “No problem. I'll just get you to dial it for me. After all, you're supposed to be my helpmate.”

I sadly shake my head. “I'm afraid that won't be possible. When the Republicans shut down the government at the stroke of midnight, the first thing they'll do is kill me in cold blood just because I'm a woman.”

“No problem. I'll just get married again. Maybe this time around, I'll find some woman who doesn't bore me to death with all her mystical New Age blather about how I should appreciate and celebrate the synergy of ‘her feminine', like those junkless losers over at consciousmen.com. Maybe next time I'll find a REAL woman who graciously submits to shooting and skinning moose, like my fantasy babe, Sarah Palin.”


“Haven't you been listening to the Democrats all this week? Oh, that's right, you only watch Fox. The Republicans plan to kill ALL women. Meanwhile, they've blinded you for life. And since they've eliminated all programs to help the blind, you'll be forced onto the street to sell pencils out of a cup. That's the GOP's idea of ‘job creation.'”

He scoffs. “No one buys pencils anymore, because pencils are obsolete.”

“That doesn't matter to the Republicans. They want to force us back to everything that's obsolete, from pencils to wire hangers.”

“Big deal. If there are no plastic hangers, then I don't have a problem using wire ones to hang up my pants.”

“Ha! Since when did you ever hang up your pants?”

“Never, so you see why I don't have a problem with it.”

“Either way, that's NOT why they want us to go back to wire hangers!”

Thoughtfully he chews his soggy, sugar-coated Beet Flakes, like a cow chews its cud as it stares blankly across the pasture. Finally he says, “You know, I can still listen to the NFL Draft on the radio. But if the Republicans kill you, then you'll miss the Royal Wedding.”

In summary, because of the Republicans:

1. My spousal unit will go blind and be forced to sell pencils from a cup.

2. I will die from lack of access to reproductive services or something.
3. I will miss the Royal Wedding.
4. Pinkie's prestigious Beet of the Week Awards program will be suspended indefinitely due to ideologically driven defunding.

5. Unruly proles can no longer be disciplined with Pinkie's shovel.

**Source: Numerous lying right wing media outlets.

Commissarka Pinkie is a regular contributor to The People's Cube, and is renowned, admired, and fawned upon by all the masses for her dedication to raising awareness of how much she cares. When she isn't busy making an issue out of everything, she enjoys beating proles with her shovel, spending their money, and indulging her Obamaphilia with Obamabilia until she's Obamabilious.

Commisarka Pinkie, I am for hereby feeling your pain, and while male, I am progressively male unlike Evil Husband Rethuglikan. Therefore, I will take his BeetFlakes™ when he is too blind to see them and treat you like Real Woman™.

Tell me - do you have swimming suit pictures?

The first Fabergé egg was delivered to the Empress on an Easter Morning. Within the first enameled egg was a golden yolk; within the yolk was a golden hen; and concealed within the hen was a diamond miniature of the royal crown and a tiny ruby egg.

Treasure within treasure within treasure. So to as our beloved Commissarka Pinkie. She is a treasure within treasure. Happy Easter Commissarka.

My Dear Commissarka Pinkie,

A most gracious and lovely story!!!! May I be so kind and show the secret footage taken of what you and your spousal unit were doing prior to getting your eggs for breakfast?

Of COURSE I remember mama's name was Sunny! Papa, the Tsar, always called her that.

Snoogie, Red Rooster would appreciate that video, all the more so since my eggs are genuine Faberge eggs that he lays especially for me.

In the meantime, if you'll all look behind me, you'll see acres of beet fields. It's from those fields that we harvest the beets used for that national treasure better known as Beet of the Week. After whacking John Boehner upside the head with my shovel, I'm pleased to announce that as of today, those beet fields will be open to the public, and thousands of eager young fresh-faced proles will be able to descend upon them with their shovels, and learn first hand how they can best serve The Party.

And with the shutdown averted, BOTW is saved and the Tsarevna is hereby proclaimed the latest recipient of Pinkie's prestigious Beet of the Week Award:


Your mama also gets a bumpersticker for the back of her troika:

Something told me you were the one most likely to get it, Tsarevna, but let me make it perfectly clear to all of you, and make no mistake. Let me repeat that--make no mistake: BOTW is in no way rigged to favor certain people.

Commissarka Pinkie wrote: “No problem. I'll just get married again. Maybe this time around, I'll find some woman who doesn't bore me to death... Maybe next time I'll find a REAL woman who graciously submits to shooting and skinning moose, like my fantasy babe, Sarah Palin.”

Pinkie, I just can't picture Mr. Lucky saying such things to your face and not waking up in the traumatic shovel wound ward of the local hospital hooked up to machines that go beep.

Snoogie, that video was most equally chuckle inducing.

It's too late now but we should have advised Comrade Dingy Harry to put the fear of God into our male population by threatening the removal of Viagra and Extenze due to a government shut down. I believe this would have swung the momentum to our side and made people stand up and think.

Commissarka Pinkie wrote:Snoogie, Red Rooster would appreciate that video, all the more so since my eggs are genuine Faberge eggs that he lays especially for me.

In the meantime, if you'll all look behind me, you'll see acres of beet fields. It's from those fields that we harvest the beets used for that national treasure better known as Beet of the Week. After whacking John Boehner upside the head with my shovel, I'm pleased to announce that as of today, those beet fields will be open to the public, and thousands of eager young fresh-faced proles will be able to descend upon them with their shovels, and learn first hand how they can best serve The Party.

And with the shutdown averted, BOTW is saved and the Tsarevna is hereby proclaimed the latest recipient of Pinkie's prestigious Beet of the Week Award:


Your mama also gets a bumpersticker for the back of her troika:

Something told me you were the one most likely to get it, Tsarevna, but let me make it perfectly clear to all of you, and make no mistake. Let me repeat that--make no mistake: BOTW is in no way rigged to favor certain people.

As I wipe a joyful tear from my eye, let me assure you that I expect no favors because of my heritage. Indeed, I am most grateful to Comrade Lenin for not putting a bullet in my brain as his minions did to the rest of my family. I can only guess it was because of my immediate embrace of the superior Communist worldview....and my womanly charms in the bedrooms of the guards. I keep the title Tsarevna only because inbreeding has caused me to be poor at thinking up new names. I am so excited to be BOTW!!!! It's a dream come true!!!!!

Congratulations Tsarevna!

Damn, I sure am hungry! Can we have chocolate vodka syrup on our beetcakes?

Red Rooster wrote:Congratulations Tsarevna!

Damn, I sure am hungry! Can we have chocolate vodka syrup on our beetcakes?

Talk to Snoogie. I think I'm running a little low on the chocolate vodka now...(hic)

Was it finger licking good? I think not! You should have shared it with your favorite Rooster.