Under the pressure of international community (B.F.M. Pravda) the People's Cube had no choice but to request a subpoena for the release of the pictures of Chairman Punchenko's Dachshunds - an issue that has plagued our group discussions and often distracted us from staying the straight course.

But while we may no longer make guesses as to the appearance of Chairman Punchenko's dogs, nor the reasons why he chose to hide them from the collective of comrades, a darker and much more sinister cloud may overshadow our collective spirit once the pictures have been released.

We expect that many comrades will be wondering as to what exactly happened to those dogs to make them look this way, if indeed they are dogs; what food is being fed to them, and - more importantly - for what purpose such hellish creatures are being used by Chairman Punchenko.

These are not, in fact, dogs. They are what the Hildo 7.1 fetched out. Meow is breeding them--and they will breed--to nip at the heels of his pleasants. That will stop them stealing food.

I have never seen these pictures before and I have no idea what you're talking about. There is no special breeding program in my underground bunker. There are no super hybrid Dachshunds that I would use to conquer Alaska. Now then, I am willing to meet SMO and B.F.M Pravda at the negotiation table for talks on the release of my pictures... that is... if my demands are met. To make the offer more tempting, I do have a picture of Nixon rolled over on his back with all fours in the air. I do not, however, have VP Agnew in the same damning position.

Your call, SMO and Pravda... your call (the Madam Speaker will mediate).

More damning evidence:



The last image supports Commissar Theocritus's hypothesis that indeed these apocalyptic creatures may have been spawned by either HRC, Janet, or Mo Dowd upon operating the diesel-powered Hildo 7.1 erotic appliance. We can further deduce that they were given to Chairman M. S. Punchenko as pets to love and spoil with cheese - but instead he utilized them for a special breeding program in his underground bunker. This makes me wonder if our Chairman hadn't quietly pirated Premier Betty's and SMO's weaponized poodle program, and adapted it to create a new tool to conquer Canada.

OMG!!!!!! what have YOU DONE??!!!!

I cannot forgive you for this, Meow! SMO may (she of charitable, compassionate persuasion), but I CAN NOT!!!!!!

(for anything less than $50K, deposited to my Swiss account, the same one you sent the hush money to when you had that fling with Phylis Diller that you needed my silence on...damn! oops!)

MEOW!!!! surely this is not offspring???!!

the shame!

No..no... and no. I've seen this picture before on the cover of Vanity Fair, and this picture is CLEARLY Her Excellency holding up Chelsea.







(I figured out how to send the pix. I have to subscribe to the web service Verizon offers but I will have to ask da fatha when he returns from a trip, his name is on the account. In the mean time, if someone wants me to send the pix to their phone I'm more than willing.)

Idunno, Meow! I see a family resemblance!

SHE HAS A GREAT PERSONALITY, PRAVDA! LAY OFF ME!

Bvt. Field Marshal Pravda wrote:OMG!!!!!! what have YOU DONE??!!!!

I cannot forgive you for this, Meow! SMO may (she of charitable, compassionate persuasion), but I CAN NOT!!!!!!

(for anything less than $50K, deposited to my Swiss account, the same one you sent the hush money to when you had that fling with Phylis Diller that you needed my silence on...damn! oops!)

MEOW!!!! surely this is not offspring???!!

the shame!

Nope... I'm not forgiving him for this... I'm sick of being charitable and compassionate. As Betty so rightly pointed out to me some time ago, Gandhi was a Nazi in a diaper... not that that really has anything to do with anything but we're having a late winter storm in T.O. and I'm stiff and sore and grumpy and not nearly medicated enough for mercy... and besides... there's one picture that for some reason reminds me of beef jerky...

And to think, Meow, that at this point you believe that YOU can negotiate with US! That after months of patience on our parts, of jovial banter and helpful suggestions, you attempt to extract ANYTHING from us for the PRIVILEGE of seeing proof of life of what are patently NO LONGER YOUR PERSONAL DASCHELS BUT MUST, GIVEN OUR CONCERN AND EFFORT, BE CONSIDERED COLLECTIVE DACHSHUNDS!!!!

After all we have put up with from you concerning the Cube's Creatures, when we receive the pictures (and perhaps even the Dachshunds themselves, should Glorious Red believe it should be so), they had better look as freaking cute as the Official Cube Dachshund...


<ooOOOooh!.. wook at the ooochy coochy widdle cutie pie dachsy wachs >... ahem... where was I? Oh yes...
... or I swear, there will be hell to pay! HELL TO PAY, I SAY!!!

Meow! In this matter is it you who must render unto the Cube that which is the Collective's, and not the other way around... Show the Dachs (and not some abomination!), or suffer the consequences!!! No Mercy for Dachs Interference, Meddling, or Mutation!!! Dachs Diddlers have no place in the The Progressive World of Next Tuesday™.

SMO points out

they had better look as freaking cute as the Official Cube Dachshund...

That IS a freaking cute poochie woochie

Um... I just realized something Red... these aren't even Dachshunds... they're Chihuahuas!!! Beef Jerky Like Mutant Chihuahuas... or maybe just regular Chihuahuas... I've always found them to be rather freaky little dogs...

Yo Quiero los Dachshunds de Meow!!!! AHORA!!!

Bvt. Field Marshal Pravda wrote:SMO points out

they had better look as freaking cute as the Official Cube Dachshund...

That IS a freaking cute poochie woochie

I know!!!... it's like eye crack as far as Dachshund pictures are concerned... You just look at the damn thing and feel better - all warm and gushy, and not in an "I visited Mexico and had a salad and a big glass of water with ice" kinda way... and then you go away and five minutes later you have to go back to it and look at it again... and you know I'm not a sucker for kitty pictures and crap like that... but there's just something about that Dachs...

Sister Massively Opiated wrote:The Progressive World of Next Tuesday™

I see that you have stumbled to the true da Vinci code. The one pertaining to Jesus was merely a red herring. This is really about the character that we all heard growing up:

Wimpy wrote:If you lend me the money for a hamburger today, I will gladly pay you Tuesday

And with this was born the Welfare State. People think that it was instigated by Krups to keep workers for his concerns. That is not so. It was an old secret, carried by Opus Dei, not the Knights Templar--they were really just bitchy money-lending queens who liked to dress up and flounce around their castles and they had 800 cathedrals; that's where all that about the altar boys started--and al this information was released by Elzie Crisler Segar when he was thrown from the order for heresy and had to make a living which he did by drawing Popeye.

So. The Ponzi scheme of Social Security. All public spending. And all the modern world. Does it matter when it all collapses? Not in the slightest. I was not really in San Antonio, for all that bit about the River Walk was mere window dressing, now that SMO has let the cat out of the bag. I was seeing to the stockpiles in my hideout in the Davis Mountains.

SMO, you have some splainin to do.

Hey Meow!

Lay off the chihuahuas and Phylis Diller already (what were you thinking??).

Here... (LINK)

Now here is something you can take advantage of without society-at-large having to pay a heavy price (unless it sucks your pecker off and you go to the emergency room claiming to be an indigent guest worker).

Note "full access" in the description...

And Red thinks that I made the most genital jokes. I deliberately tried to steer it away from them. Well, after my initial foray, but then nothing is my fault, you see.

Commissar Theocritus wrote:SMO, you have some splainin to do.

Ahem... well... I would but I just made my nighty-night cocoa and Rat needs his insulin shot (and this storm has my Bilderberg hotline down)... so, I hope you won't mind if I 'splain' tomorrow... my cocoa is getting cold.

And really... it's not like it's that big a secret... just as YHWH (Jehovah) is an acronym for "I am that I am", so too did Popeye oft remind us that "I yam what I yam"... it's not really that big a stretch as it is all there to see, for those who have eyes...

Sweet dreams, oh Trismegistus... ahem... I mean Theocritus...
Hermeneutically yours,
SMO

Bvt. Field Marshal Pravda wrote:Hey Meow!

Lay off the chihuahuas and Phylis Diller already (what were you thinking??).

ewwww... <shudder>... enough already... you guys alwasy do this to me right before bed and then I have nightmares... cow mascots... freaky chihuahuas... Meow and Phylis Diller... GM Chrysler! And you wonder why I medicate so heavily!...

SMO, I give you thanks for your compliment. But after all of the meals that I ate when I was off this weekend, I am looking like a tater Thoth.

And I'm rescinding my demands for some splaining. After all, who am I to get pissed when something gets out? Although I do cling to my original supposition that those dog things were out of Hillary, Janet and Mo by the Hildo 7.1. I personally think that they are out of Janet, using the carborundum tip.

In the House of Representatives....

<img src="https://www.cargo-cult.com/pictures/alienb01.gif" width="200" height="309" class="BorderGray"> <img src="https://www.cargo-cult.com/pictures/ali ... huab01.gif" width="200" height="252" class="BorderGray">

<img src="https://www.cargo-cult.com/pictures/ali ... ahua01.gif" width="205" height="186" class="BorderGray"> <img src="https://www.cargo-cult.com/pictures/alientwoface2.gif" width="225" height="161" class="BorderGray">

.... No One Can Hear You Scream....

I wonder why Nansky needs her own 757. Would not a 747 be more in line with her needs?

Or one of those new 777's. The big engines can move boulders with their exhaust. Just like her.

Considering that her mass is not as great as that of a 777, that means that the gases must be balanced. But since her exits are not symmetrical in her body, that means that she is not of the normal world.

She's the other end of a black hole. The other side of the event horizon. Make of that what you will.

The other side of a black hole would just be a clump of super-dense material in a ball. But some scientists say that it shoots what it sucks in out at the center, which doesn't make a whole lot of sense. Maybe you meant to say "wormhole", or "time-sphincter".

Ah, Premier Betty, I think that you have it. You have have heard that Stephen Hawking has recently recanted his theory that information is, indeed, lost over the event horizon. And therefore the universe is safe. But Professor Hawking was induced to recant this lest the enemy realize that Nansky really does lose information. That is the dirty little secret at the heart of the universe: that information is lost, after all. That the universe will one day disappear up Algore's ass. That Nansky is a true blob of irrationality. That with her the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle fails utterly--not only can one not know the position and momentum of a particle at the same time--one cannot know the position, or the momentum, or if it exists. Only if it votes, Premier, only if it votes.

And if it feels pain. Did you know that nonexistent subabtomic particles can feel pain? That we can share, of course, and leverage Our Concern ™ (Gospodin Zampolit is catching) to take money frorm people for an outreach to subatomic particles which do not exist except for the low self-image?

Onward and upward.

Hey all! Anyone miss me?

Interesting program, although I think that it cannot just be a breeding program, there has to be some genetic manipulation in there somewhere. Chairman? Have you check the various laws on this? A certain word is coming to mind p-pr-pro-pro-PROMOTION! That's it! Ah, here it is in the dictionary: Promotion - the act of not mentioning any dog breeding/genetic lab programs.

Theoritus and Betty, is there any reason to question why Nansky needs a 757? If she says she needs it, our response should be; "would you rather have a 787, it guzzles more gas?” Yes I know that they are not invented yet. Some one call comrade Gore!

Actually, Red, I thought that the 757 would be more suitable for Nansky. Its smaller footprint lets it get into airports closer to Vail, Gstaad and so forth. Her ego-support planes, an entire fleet of 747s, can fly into other, larger airports, which she can requisition. The various ego-support machinery can be brought in with a convoy of Peterbilt trucks, which will be stockpiled in hangars at every major airport on earth, and as we speak, the Army Corps of Engineers is building an airport and hangar, heated, of course, on the Ross Ice Shelf in Antarctica, where Nansky will go with our Many Titted Empress. Where no body can hear you scream.

Uhm, you got a point there, maybe bigger is not always better. And if it is convenient for you, setting the example might not be such a bad idea. But the moment that she feels that she is entitled to something bigger and better, we need to pounce upon it, make sure that everyone else accommodates her, every airport, every hanger, and if necessary, bigger Peterbuilt trucks.

And I have just thought of a new thing. Have the Mapplethorpe Design Studio, which has just merged with Warhol Enterprises, Inc., a subsidiary of Geffen Entertainment, design a special logo for the Peterbilt trucks. They can consult with Doc Johnson and do a product-placement deal for the Hildo 7.1, which will be manufactured by a J.V. with GE's Electric Boat.

When you think of it, a Peterbilt, correctly built, could like like a member, and if there were a hailstorm which came up, threatening the expensive paint job, it could be parked <i>in</i> Nansky.

Who will also get the Nobel prize. Being able to be hauled around in a Peterbilt and also having one parked in her. There we get back to the Event Horizon again.

My Texas Pecan coffee isn't working and I must go to work to be assaulted by the morons, who are assembling in serried ranks as I type. I can hear the tocsin of their call-to-arms--JayZ does it, and I hope that I got his name right.

Next week I'm having an iPod surgically implanted so that I can carry the Mozart Mass in C minor, which soothes me now, around with me and all I am exposed to is people uvulas, flapping, and the occasional hogo.

Go down to the store and pick up some Yanni CD's, Theocritus. That will surely scare away the huddled masses and their JayZ trash. Be sure to blast it so that all may enjoy the mind numbing experience that is Yanni. Yes, you will be sitting comfortably wearing Bose noise canceling headphones while watching these masses flop around on the floor like dead fish while merrily watching their pink mushy brains ooze out of their ears in silent delight.

Chairman wrote: while watching these masses flop around on the floor like dead fish while merrily watching their pink mushy brains ooze out of their ears in silent delight

Silent Delight... hmm... sounds like a desert, maybe a new soylent green food product for the masses who haven't had their puny brains leaked out through their ears yet.

Premier Betty, you posit that there are brains to link out. Daily I am met with people whose idea of thinking is weighing of prejudices. Oh. I forgot. I've made the mistake of watching national news. Bad Theocritus. Bad Theocritus. Never again. I sentence myself as penance to reading <i>The Fountainhead</i> again and not laughing at her savage wit. (Very funny these days, you know.)

Some days I see people whose brains could politely be described as a single ganglion throbbing at the base of the spinal column--and if it throbs, it's a good day.

But Meow, I do like the idea of Yanni. I still have some pictures of Crown Center with the Christmas Tree. Now I don't normally believe in Kirlian photography or other such manifestations or apparitions, but I swear that I see flying, spectral jars of honey. That with Yanni would be enough to send them all into insulin shock.

And we get to the central conundrum. These people are breeding, folks. Breeding and voting. Breeding more voters <i>made in their image</i>. To grow up and drive trucks worth more than their houses. Not to understand that the cost of something matters, not just the monthly payment. (I kid you not.) Who thinks that the tax refund is money from the government? I'm not kidding.

Guess who's not breeding? In a moment of arrogance, guess who not only knows the importance of the price of something, but can do the math of the amortization, prove it, understand the mathematical algorithms used to calculate it, the circuitry used to perform the calculations, the semiconductor theory which runs those circuits, and who paid cash for a house? Who can not only listen to Beethoven but play him on the piano? Guess who's not breeding?

And that's why I'm a progressive. So I can get as much from these people as possible, make them feel helpess and angry, and tell them that I'm the solution when I'm really the problem.

All hail the Goracle! Bow to our Many-Titted Empress! Let's hear it for Nansky! Bonnie Fwank (god if I believed in group guilt how I'd apologize for that thing)!

To grow up and drive trucks worth more than their houses

Yes, Theocritus, but these Rednecks have been to the moon!
Some people believe it was a Hollywood movie and a myth, but look.....
A mobile home
A satellite dish
An American flag
and a 4X4 wheel drive vehicle, the kind you despise.
Is it possible they may be breeding in space and spreading their seed?


And weewee Teeahcwitus, fwankwee dares no need to apowoahgize for Bonnie Fwank. He's in a vicktum gwoop all by himswellf.

Yes, Bonnie Fwank is in a victim group all by himself. He's what they chipped off from the H4 7.1 after an all-night session with Our Empress, Nansky, Janet, Maurine, Ellen, Barbara Mikulski, Sheila Jackson Lee and Molly Yard, all swept up into a pile, which then at a fantastic pace proved that Darwin was utterrly completely wrong, which you have to believe unless you want to go wall-eyed, staring blind seeing-to-the-ends-of-the-universe mad.

Laika - I only have this to add...

Actually my dislike of Rednecks is because they do not understand the advantages that the Party can give them. Why, when I tell them that I have better uses for their money than they do, they get out a gun! The nerve, to want their money. And they defend their other property, too.

Why can't they all be like Hollywood glitterati and the useful idiots on the Hill, always happy to oblige. Once I thought that I'd build another 2,000 beds in my concentation camp and it was a race between Countrywide and Wells Fargo for the financing, both offering me their chairman's daughters. That didn't play, of course, and when I told them why they offered themselves. Not out of any particular desire but they're always wanting to be seen as being as progressive as the next one.

I love those people. One of them saw me fingering the rope that I was going to use to hang him and made Lupe wash it and mend it. My eyes teared up and I decided to give him a reprieve, that is, until I'd drunk his cellar dry of the bits of it that I liked and learned the combination to his wall safe.

RedtheProgressiveHedgehog wrote:Hey all! Anyone miss me?

Yes... terribly... I have been quite concerned (you may find in other threads) that quite a few Cubists, including our dearest forward pointy rodent, have been missing of late... I was a bit worried that something had gone amiss with the babies, but also wondered if they had simply been able to return to the creche and so were keeping you busy... or perhaps that the apparent collective spring madness that seemed to have overcome the Cube had caught up with you - another worry. I am glad to find you are well and back with us... Some, however, are still missing... Where is O'Brien?... Betty has returned, thankfully, as has Pravda... I realize we are all faceless soldiers for the cause, but I cannot help but worry, especially when the Trolls are uncharacteristically weak in a fight that they aren't hatching some nefarious plot... and after the recent altogether too easy Troll-rollovers, I am beginning to wonder...

... but then, of course, I'm paranoid...

No, SMO, you're not paranoid. Mark Twain, while criticizing James Fenimore Cooper, said, "Use the right word, not its second cousin." But there are synonyms: paranoid, realistic, and cynical.

But that equality itself could be seen as evidence of all three, obviating the judgment. I think that the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principal may be invoked here.

Thanks for your concern SMO. Me and the children are just fine, I have just have had my head buried in research for the robots. We should have a new model out soon that will specialize in feeling guilty for you, taking the burden off of you so that you can spend more of your time working for the revolution.

I will be off again until tomorrow evening; the progressive ISP shares the bandwidth with all a whole. Those that go over the limit set by the Karl Marx Treatment Center will be forced to have their service rationed for the next 24 hours.

Hmmm... I disagree with the manufacturing of Robot-Amerikans to take on the "burden" of guilt. I feel that it is in our collective selfless interest to continue to place guilt on the White Christian Males for their crimes against the universe(s). I know... I know... I'm old skool - but, if it ain't broke, don't fix it with a workable solution. Instead we create multiple failing solutions that will be very expensive and time consuming... that, my dearest progressive rodent, is progress that I can support.

GUILT+REVOLUTION+HILLARY+AMERIKA'S DEFEAT = HOPE FOR FUTURE GENERATIONS.

We must work harder (without Robot help) to acheive The Progressive World of Next Tuesday™. And the only way to do so is by turning everyone into drooling self-censoring PC conformist guilt-ridden zombies... it is the only way.

Meow wrote:And the only way to do so is by turning everyone into drooling self-censoring PC conformist guilt-ridden zombies... it is the only way.

And the prize is a contract hosting the evening news for a national network. The sweepstakes is being programming direktor for MSNBC. Whose troubles are much like reports of a palace coup by the eunuchs in King Minos' court--for just as many living people have an interest in it.

And all hail, too, to Meow's understanding of solutions. Daily, nearly, I deal with Countrywide Home Loans, Inc., and Come the Revolution™, I shall use their business model.

Nothing works. No one has authority but the kulak at the top. The people that the public deals with are not guilt-ridden zombies for guilt implies a sense of self--does an armadillo have guilt? Even an armadillo as ugly as Our Many Titted Empress? Does a run-over lemur with eyes like Nansky's?

To keep the proles in place, the head of Countrywide shall become our Direktor of Operations. Every literate person shall be employed in arranging my library, although considering education today, I might have to get them to work double shifts. (Reading in the fields of resentment and victimology--sorry, redundant--doesn't count.) Every technically literate person shall be employed in researching entertainment for me, and in new wrinkles on electric fences to keep the proles in line.

And then socialist heaven shall be reached. Nothing will happen. All will stop. Such will be the stifling bureaucracy that time will cease to flow; electrons will no longer orbit their nuclei. Photons will stop in their tracks, and after the Universe ceases to exist, when the atoms themselves fly apart, some 30 billion years in the future, still there will be, in a bubble outside of time, outside of the physical universe, outside of the possibility of comprehension, our State, run under Countrywide Home Loans standards.

You see, that is what you get when you write post in the middle of the night and tired (here I am doing it again). When I was talking about "you”, I was talking of people that matter, the party elite. Because you are not "you" without the Nanny State, and the party elite run the Nanny State, thus they become the Nanny State and thus become “you”. So saying that these robots are for "you" is saying that they are for the elite. They have the heavy burden of trying to run the country and tax everyone, wealth needs to be redistributed, wars need to be lost, and people need to be purged. Our glorious leaders do not have time to be wallowing in the feelings of guilt and self-pity. I am also thinking of naming the robot series “Marvin”.

I know that I have no guilt, simply because I lack a conscience (among other things, spine comes to mind). No, my point (if we are calling it a "point") was that robots taking on guilt of the proles is not a good idea. I want the proles to feel guilt... guilt is an emotion that liberates, yes, liberates tax-dollars for bridges to nowhere, housing for nobody, healthcare for 40 million welfare reciepients, ect. ect. ect. infinity plus two. You see, I love money - your money! And the only way I can be happy is when the proles hate themselves, their house, their money, and their children. Their guilt = my happiness, all because their guilt will coerce them (if the jack-booted thugs don't) to hand over their money to me. And... and this is important... if and when, well there is no if, only when, they give me their money... then, and only then, will I tell them how wonderful they are and how many "children" they are feeding with their selfless contribution (which is really a contribution to me and my Party boss friends down in Norfolk).

I hope this made no sense what-so-ever and that you will openly embrace my logic for whatever it is worth (which is a lot, mind you, so embrace it! Do it dammit!).

Ah. I see that we have engaged in PsyOps. And it is an overlooked tool for us; we tend to think too much in terms of the gulag and the electrified fence. The concentration camp, of course. And our brothers in history with the iron maiden and the thumbscrew. Ah. Those were the days, making do with what they had at the time. Can you imagine a really good dungeon without Black and Decker? No? I can't either. And a fence needing guards? That cannot kill anyone? Just imagine having to worry about prisoners AND guards, and now the electric fence is lethal--to anyone.

You may have noticed that Pfizer is not supposed to show profits until 2009 and fools think that is because of Vioxx lawsuits. (We're collecting there; needed a bit of cash.) It is not; in reality Pfizer is dedicating the majority of its research to a JV with some scientists at Rice developing nanotechnology, and a start-up in Austin, plus a renegade in Cambridge--these useful idiots; they don't know they're next--to a shot. We shall of course market it as being nanotechnology which will rejuvenate the collagen in the skin, meaning no more face lifts or bat-wing reductions. Of course we do not need to use it on our news media for they are with us already, but it will be a time savings in not having to corrupt new ones. The old ones are so ossified in their leftist ways, blinded by the perks of their jets zooming over fly-over country, that they are ours. But if they remain looking young--so much the better.

No, this is for general control. But until such time as this device is available, we need PsyOps. The pioneering work in this was done by a man who has been silent lately. He's not fed until he's sated, like a very fat tick; he's really writing his magnum opus, with a little, er, encouragement from Ivan, my right-hand man. (He has no right hand owing to an unfortunate lapse of judgment but loves me all the more for my discipline.)

This man who is writing our ground-breaking treatise was a pioneer in telling people that they were helpless, that they were down-trodden, and therefore made them very angry and violent. He then told them that he was their savior, and that they could not exist without him. That everyone else, except him, was out to get them. That they could not survive without him.

And from this he gained wealth without talent, except for making people feel bad. He gained huge power, without talent, except for pointing fingers. He is above the law and above criticism when he will not allow an audit of his books which are known to be cooked.

I refer of course to the Reverend Jesse Jackson. The secret is out. He is working for us. I consider him my greatest triumph, although there were a few scenes which would have been ugly to someone less dedicated to the Cause than I am, but I am made of stern stuff--you ought to have been a fly on the wall a couple of times in a motel room--and the raging of Jesse Jackson was utterly nothing compared to a certain bug-eyed queen.

Expect the Reverend Jackson's dissertation three months before the release of Mens Sana in Corpora Ea--Sound Mind in Their Bodies, the drug which will ensure our power.

RedtheProgressiveHedgehog wrote:I am also thinking of naming the robot series “Marvin”.

All honour to Douglas Adams... PBUH

Hold Horns High
SMO

It's Friday and my diodes hurt.

Resistors are useless...

...and Countrywide Home Loans will never say, "Sorry for the inconvenience." And this morning I've already been here 634,353,352 years, 352 days and 15 minutes parking spacecraft for moonbats.

Ok, then what does the collective think about what we should do with these units? I have already spent over excessive amounts of tax money, time, and union workers developing these units. I didn't work hard blackmailing to get this position to only sit around and twiddle my thumbs. I am doing great with the wildlife department; never have the endangered species list been so high. Now the progressive elites can blame it on global warming. <phone rings> No Jim, I told you we cannot go hunting next weekend. <looks up> I got to go! <looks around nervously> You didn't hear anything.

Well...hmmm... wasted amounts of tax-dollars/time and labor is not a problem - not a problem to me that is. Hmm, the union workers should be compensated well over what they are worth.... maybe....hmmmmm... I'm thinking of a number.... $300,000 a piece? Is that fair? Maybe we could throw the union workers on the endagered species list as well so that they can have whatever they want when the revolution comes. I'm thinking choice pieces of property here. Yes, that and of course everything else we promised (which is free-everything). OK, I'm done for the day making these difficult and wise decisions, I need booze, hookers and Hollywood gliteratti now <claps hands> send in the dancers!

Ah, folks, this gives me pause. I feel that our position is not as secure as it could be. Now I feel that we have been served well in the past by various union leaders--excepting that damnable George Meany who purged all leftist unions. But he died in 1980 and I wonder how that happened? But we cannot rely on the other ones utterly.

And what happens if, say, CBS or NBC actually gets a reporter who is not one of us in the closet? (He can wish; I let them think so.)

Now I am the first to enjoy a good old fashioned riot of the useful idiots; it's right up there with shooting wets, er, undocumented workers, out of the back of my built-up Hummer along the Rio Grande. (Meow, when can you shake your ass loose and come down to Texas again? I have a very succulent young thing, Tencha, just for you, and Red, why don't you come down yourself? I'm sure that I can round up something.) But as much fun as this is, it is a high-stakes game.

And the sad thing is that I turn 52 Tuesday. I realize there are only so many more seasons of rolling in the vaults of Fort Knox, taking souvenirs from de Beers, left to me before I join that great collective in the sky. And frankly stepping on necks just takes energy, damn it, and I don't have as much as I once did. Why, 25 years ago I could flog peasants all day and then foment riots all night. But I'm slowing down. Do you realize the the time delay between Matt Shepherd and James Byrd? Ah. You didn't know I was behind that? Didn't advance our cause though, just to keep my hand in.

So let's do some serious thinking about electronic and biological control. This PsyOps just is too risky. But a lot of the fun will leave. I realize that. But when you are older, you'll thank me.

Ok Chairman, but what about me? What about my time? What about all the sleepless nights and blackmailing I have put in to get this job -- and for what?! To have my projects purged like a white male protestant?!

Don't forget about the topic for this forum. It sure would be a shame if someone made call to the Humane Society, wouldn't it Chairman? Of course SMO may have already done it.

I AM THE HUMANE SOCIETY... AND DON'T YOU FORGET IT!

OK... I'm sorry... that was uncalled for. Errhmmm... you will be compensated for your tireless efforts, Progressive Rodent. The Party always rewards it's own... therefore I present you with this medal of achievement in the field of People's Labor.


This medal is most lovely and would fetch a pretty penny (yes, only a penny) at a fine pawn shop near you! ENJOY....

Chairman Meow, please give our Esteemed Rodent something of more significant value. Such as a wallet made of road-kill Brits.

Commissar Theocritus foolishly wrote:Chairman Meow, please give our Esteemed Rodent something of more significant value. Such as a wallet made of road-kill Brits.

A wallet!?!? Why in the non-existent hell would he need a wallet for??!?! It isn't like he has any money on his person to carry around or anything!? A change purse I can see, yes... but a wallet!?! No... absolutely not. His medal is most generous and can be used to make others envy him for his selfless actions on behalf of the Common Good. Anything else might spoil him too much and lead to undesirable counter-revolutionary behavior (which will not be tolerated!).

Commissar Theocritus, I am APPALLED at your sense of generosity... absolutely APPALLED!

Chairman Meow, you forget that I was being generous with Other Peoples Money. OPM simply doesn't count. I love you like a brother, well I turned mine in, but still, your money, no matter how you esteem it, no matter how you love it, is still OPM. To me.

Now <i>my</i> money is something else entirely. That's real money.

Don't tell Our Many Titted Empress, but once I take a few post-doc courses on liberating OPM from her, she'll be packed off to the Armour meat-packing plant to be made into dog food to be fed to Chinese dogs.

Nansky, on the other hand, I'll keep around. I invested my best electronic pogo stick in her, shoving it up her ass, and my crack programming team has made an algorithm with an Intel Core 2 Duo with 4GB of 1GHz front-side RAM, and a 1 TB striped RAID NAS to give her that look of pop-eyed surprise.

But you know the hardest thing was the non-sequiturs. I tried training a monkey to yank the power cord at random intervals, thinking that the Blue Screen of Death, oscillating enough, would do it, but Nansky really is a true random number. She gets an idea in that echo chamber of her mind and it collides with the one or two oxygen atoms inside it and all this shit pours out her mouth and it doesn't make any sense at all, even if you squint your eyes and pretend that Mulva is writing her speeches. Talk about lowering the bar. Defining idiocy downward. So fucking stupid that it makes my cat laugh.

Really. Utter random action. Her thinking is merely Brownian motion--the collision of air molecules in a bozon flux, and she's really a victim of Algore, the People's Pope of the First Church of Climatology, who knows that if the world warms up, Nansky will get more excited and take attention from him, which is not a good thing because if you put him on stage with a swatch paint from a Glidden can, the audience would pay a lot more attention to the paint drying and even make book on any bubbles bursting.

A wallet!?!?

Did somebody open a wallet? Why wasn't I immediately notified?

Now my money is something else entirely. That's real money.

Well, well, well......Comrade Theocritus has just committed a 3rd Degree Thoughtcrime. He can thank his lucky stars that he's in a protected minority class. Cross over to hetero and I'll own you, your balls (just like Bill) and your so called "my money".
"My money" Gawddamn nerve. I've never, NEVER heard of such insolence!
I guess I'll just have to get over it. A protected minority class is a protected minority class. It's in the Constitution, right before Abortion Rights and right after Seperation of Church and State.

Hillary '08

My Empress, I thank you humbly for my protected status...Lupe! Goddamn it! Hide those <i>Playboys</i> before the Iron Maiden finds them, and tell Juanita I don't need her tonight!...

Yes, we must protect the minority classes because I can say much nastier things than a straight man can and get away with it. And I can let the bitch out of the box. Or is that your venue, Empress?

Your Excellency, I assure you that no one's wallet was opened and that if one were I would immediately contact you and your goon squad within "HillaryLand". You well know that I'm but a meager peasant serving at your pleasure (yes, yes, put the Picasso's next to the Van Gogh) and that I would never... and I mean NEVER... spend what little savings I have on anything but your campaign (no dammit, I don't want a knock-off David... I want the real thing! And get someone over to Europe to import that castle I like) Your Excellency, I will make it my personal duty to destroy anyone who is hiding $oft-ca$h from you (yes, the one built by Ludwig... the mad guy, yes...mmmhmmm... starts with an "N" and it's German...uh huh... yeah that's the one) to think of someone other than you spending copious amounts of OPM makes my stomach turn! (Yes, I want the Pope's hat too... no, I don't care how much it costs... I WANT IT DAMMIT, SEND HIM A BLANK CHECK AND LET HIM DETERMINE A PRICE!) Uggh... some people are soooo careless with their money, especially when it can be used in better ways to help the ailing masses... Excuse me for a moment, I have some movers here to install a swimming pool full of jello....uhhh... I mean to install a new bale of hay for me to sleep on... yeah, a bale of hay.... <looks around nervously> I have to go now...ummm... I won't be at Party HQ for a few days <slips toe into pool of jello> I....uhhh... have the...uhhh.... I have chronic diarreah...yeah, I have chronic diarreah and am unable to work for the next three weeks... <scurries away>.

Ah, Meow, the reason that you don't have the real David is that I have it--onanism as it were. Not only that but I found the last surviving descendant of Leonardo da Vinci, well he didn't really have any kids, you know, but then he did adopt some by Salai, and these children had some of his notebooks. They're very interesting of course, but when I finish with a page, I use it for bumf--for whose ass is more needing of a quality(tm) wipe than mine?

But why settle for the Pope's miter? After all, it's old an tatty. Now I happen to know that in the catacombs of the Vatican, in the sarcophagus of Pope Innocent IX--it's secure because it's old and small and unadorned and chipped--there are all the jewels stolen by that damnable de Medici pope. They didn't really go bust and they're there in the Vatican. They were in hiding, for the pope hid them until he and Mussolini got round to the Vatican compact setting up Vatican State and the pope decided that he just might keep them for himself. So I have those too.

Now I'm merely waiting for Lalique to finish my Crystal Palace, which will make Robert Schuyler's seem like something out of Lillian Vernon.