Forget a five year plan, Dear Leader offers a SIX Year plan!

More is better comrades, and Dear Leader Obama has obsoleted the five year plan by making it into a six year plan.

Comrade Laika sent message of this speech through my tinfoil hat earlier.

Quote:

"This is not a stimulus, immediate-jobs plan," one senior official said. "This is a six-year reauthorization (of transportation projects) that is front-loaded" with money to try and spark the economy once Congress passes it.

There you have it Comrades. Five year plans have evolved into the more glorious six year plan. I have directed all encyclopedias to change references of five year plans to six year plans. In addition, we are considering banning every fifth year, and simply renaming them "year 4, Mk II"Now hurry up and lobby congress to pass this Six Year Plan! Remember, it's for The Children(TM)
 

Yep, it's NEP
 

Comrade Colonal,

You might just want to hold that thought about the 6-year plan. When Dear Leader figures out that 6 is really 9 he may just jack it up to the infamous 10-year plan. Hold onto your wallets horses!
 

[OFF]

Are we sure he didn't just call it the 6 year plan because only a 6 yr. old would believe it will accomplish anything?

Resurfacing roads whether they need it or not is not the same as creating longterm good paying jobs by developing new products that the world needs and rebuilding the factories that would manufacture them.
 

Whinny-da-PBUH

Comrade Colonal,

You might just want to hold that thought about the 6-year plan. When Dear Leader figures out that 6 is really 9 he may just jack it up to the infamous 10-year plan. Hold onto your wallets horses!
One of my jobs as Commissar of Time, is ensuring 6 year plans are always finished on time. Even if we have to rewrite history, and redefine how we measure time.
 

I am confused, Comrade Colonel. Why are six year plans more glorious than five year plans? Would it not be more glorious for the plan to come to fruition one year sooner? Hmmm, on the other hand, if the plan does not work as excellently as anticipated or if it is an unmitigated disaster like the last one was a six year plan will give the Party an extra year of breathing room before the failure is certain (hey, so what if unemployment is up to 30%? We're only in the fifth year of a six year plan! Be patient!) So for the common good, we should commence designing a hundred-year plan as soon as possible.
 

Because MORE is BETTER! More years in a plan means we can fully ensure the plan will work. Six is bigger than five, and we know that if the government spends more on anything (time, money, lives, whatever) that it must be better. Unless of course the Bushhitler did it, then more is evil.

But when our Dear Leader wishes to give us an EXTRA YEAR in his glorious plan, what is there not to love?
 

Opiate of the People

I am confused, Comrade Colonel. Why are six year plans more glorious than five year plans? Would it not be more glorious for the plan to come to fruition one year sooner? Hmmm, on the other hand, if the plan does not work as excellently as anticipated or if it is an unmitigated disaster like the last one was a six year plan will give the Party an extra year of breathing room before the failure is certain (hey, so what if unemployment is up to 30%? We're only in the fifth year of a six year plan! Be patient!) So for the common good, we should commence designing a hundred-year plan as soon as possible.

Comrade Colonel as Commissar of Time™ has it all worked out on direct Party™ orders coming straight from Comrade Zero!!
The New Economic Plan will show the world that it is ABOUT time we get on the platform and dress warmly. It worked before, it will work again!
 

This is lovely new, loyal comrade Colonel, but I wish you had informed of such before I marked up my calender. drats!




 

Comrades, I shall settle this one once and for all. And the wisdom that I got came from a RethugliKKKan psychopathic monster, Thomas Sowell. He said that you don't understand bureaucracy until you understand that the process is everything and the result nothing.

Even a stopped clock is right twice a day and Sowell, quite inadvertently, gave some good advice.

So what does the term matter? It's just packaging. We're never going away. We're here forever, like herpes. We are the pox on the body politic.

Call it a six-month plan if you want. Just know that it will still be in force after the atomic nuclei disintegrate and there is nothing left in the universe except photons. Even then our six-year, or six-month plan will still be in force, and will be the only think keeping the universe from winking out of existence.
 

Our dear Comrade Theocritus has hit the nail on the head.

Besides, can you imagine the environmental injustices that would occur if the universe winked out of existence? We MUST have our plans, otherwise life itself, and the entire universe would cease to exist.
 

Yes. There is nothing that is permanent except rules and bureaucracy. Stephen Hawking et al have some out with a new book postulating that the universe, with present quantum physics, could create itself spontaneously. And that after a few trillion years any sentient being, made of photons, might take a hundred million years to decide what to have for lunch, and then that universe would wink out of existence to be replaced by others, and others which grow in little bubbles off our current universe.

The multiverse. Where membranes touch each other and create a new universe.

And in a future so impossibly remote that we need an infinities of infinity.

But the year 1234643E2343532!5342599993E65234123499^55234544E44 will still have April 15 as its tax-filing date and the only thing left of the NYT is five protons which spell out, "It's Bush's fault."
 

Shelly told me I once had a Six Minute Plan but now it's down to Six Seconds.
WTF Biatch!

It's a SIX YEAR PLAN!

I am going to hump the taxpayers dry until they beg for some KY lead this great nation of mine ours with a glorious SIX YEAR PLAN!
 

Commissar Theocritus

So what does the term matter? It's just packaging. We're never going away. We're here forever, like herpes. We are the pox on the body politic.

Call it a six-month plan if you want. Just know that it will still be in force after the atomic nuclei disintegrate and there is nothing left in the universe except photons. Even then our six-year, or six-month plan will still be in force, and will be the only think keeping the universe from winking out of existence.

Commissar Theocritus,

This is very encouraging! I am amazed at the ease in which you make the complex—e.g. edicts, commands and overbearing mandates emitting from the dark, sciolistic abyss often referred to as 'O's 'inner intellect'—and make it simple and understandable for us common proles.

While this excellent explanation is the substance of textbooks that unfortunately may never reach the grasp of the unworthy, it's still comforting to know it in its essence as HOPE and CHANGE™
 

Fraulein, it is simply. We assume your calender was made up a year into the six year plan, and will add that year to the five years that have been marked. Or issue you a new calendar. Or something. Do you have any vodka?
 

I like a six year plan. One six year plan is a nice round number, an even number; it bodes that all will be equal at the end of it.

Two six years plans will be like a road trip down Route 66, a tour down the Mother Road through the heart of our new-found socialist utopia.

Ah, But THREE six year plans...
 

Whinny

While this excellent explanation is the substance of textbooks that unfortunately may never reach the grasp of the unworthy, it's still comforting to know it in its essence as HOPE and CHANGE™
Comrade, I hereby promote you, just a stripling prog, for learning that great distinction.

HOPE and CHANGE™ mean even more of the same old shit. The government doesn't change.

And we are to have an industrial bank, I'm told, which will direct research by giving money. How wonderful. In this way we can manipulate what research or products are correct and we can penalize people who don't agree with us.

Just one more hand on the throat of capitalism.

What's that phrase? Autoeroticasphyxiation?
 

Commissar Theocritus

Comrade, I hereby promote you, just a stripling prog, for learning that great distinction.

HOPE and CHANGE™ mean even more of the same old shit. The government doesn't change.

And we are to have an industrial bank, I'm told, which will direct research by giving money. How wonderful. In this way we can manipulate what research or products are correct and we can penalize people who don't agree with us.

Just one more hand on the throat of capitalism.

What's that phrase? Autoeroticasphyxiation?

Thank you, Comrade. HOPE and CHANGE™ has always been the flatulence and piffle exuded by charmers/charlatans extended out to the booboisie like a bright, shiney coin.

It's like the old, rundown car being driven around the block, but before making it's complete round, was spray-painted a different color (so as not to go noticed being the same car) before arriving at its starting point.

If HOPE and CHANGE™ can manipulate the minds of drones into believing a New Dawn has arrived, then even more so the research of products. And for those who don't agree, that's were a liberal dose of HOPE™ comes in; as in HOPE you can afford the alternatives.

I believe the phrase "auto-erotic asphyxiation"—something the late David Carradine would be expert on if only he lived to tell about it—would require the second hand to be somewhere around the "Bawney Fwank" zone to make it complete. But then again, there were also "strings attached".
 

Oh dear, PBUH, I didn't know that David Carradine had wanked himself to death. How sad. There was an episode of Six Feet Under, a series I liked until it became parody of itself, which started with a similar death.

But you must watch it. The term "booboisie" wounds horribly Menckenesque. H. L. Mencken is the one man that we must never mention at the Cube. He had an astonishing ability to call out bullshit when he saw it annoy progressives set in their godly ways of changing the world as we know it for the Progressive World of Next Tuesday™.

And what's worse, the horrible Roger Kimball applied some words that Mencken wrote about a speech by Warren G. Harding to a speech by Dear O'Leader:

H. L. Mencken

of a string of wet sponges, it reminds me of tattered washing on the line; it reminds me of stale bean soup, of college yells, of dogs barking idiotically through endless nights. It is so bad that a sort of grandeur creeps into it. It drags itself out of a dark abysm (I was about to write abcess!) of pish, and crawls insanely up the topmost pinnacle of posh. It is rumble and bumble, it is flap and doodle. It is balder and dash.
 

Comrade Theocritus,

One of my specialties is Disseminator of Propaganda and other particularities, but I'm sorry for being the bringer of bad news about "Grasshopper". I guess there was a side of him that was about as perverted as it gets not even all the meditation in the Shaolin temple could reach.

I will strike the word "booboisie" from my lexicon (at least in this forum) so as not to end up months on end in the gulag for making any false claims.

That is quite a homily H. L. wrote. To adapt such turgid prose to be used as a surgical instrument disecting bits and pieces of Dear Leader's speech must not reach the attention of Dear Leader, or his winged monkey Mr. Fibbs, lest his fragile self-esteem gets gently bruised.

Honestly though, after hearing 45 minutes of Dear Leader droning on this morning in slow motion with something he euphemistically calls a "speech"—stammering something about the economy, 'creating jobs', and how "rich" people should be footin' the bill—I think the "stale bean soup" analogy holds a special description in my heart.

Comrade, I wanted to let you know that during my short time so far here in the Cube, I really enjoy reading your posts. You're one of my favorites—besides Red Square.
 

Ah, Whinny, you are learning the excellent skills of the suck-up. That's how you get to be a made prog, you know--by sucking up. The Italians say hold your friends close but your enemies closer. Just so with us progs.

Because we're progs because we have undeveloped personalities and never grew up past the emotional age of ten. Which is just fine.

"I won't ever grow up! I won't ever grow up! I won't ever grow up!" You think that's a children's tale, don't you? But it's not. It's the mating call of the Progressive.

I have such contempt for my neighbors. They all have jobs and all go to work. The DA is my next-door neighbor, and he goes to work every day. Lots of doctors here, and they go to work every day.

While I sit here an laze at the Rancho. Doing nothing but feeling superior.

And that, dear Whinny, is why I'm a made prog.

Because there is nothing quantifiably superior about me and so I just declare it.
 

Oh, and Whinny, let me suggest that you get a good set of titanium pitons. They're very useful as you put your foot on the head of slower comrades. I suggest titanium. Some comrades have heads too hard for aluminum.

I know. I have tried. You ought to see Pupovich's head after I spent the night trying to drive spikes into his temple. A bit misshapen but he still keeps going. And going. And going.

Ah. If I'd only had the titanium...
 

Thank you Commissar Theocritus for the sage advice! The more I search my inner prog the more I realize the skills needed to go deeper yet. There are no limits to the depths of progdom within the realm of unfettered personal irresponsibility and moral reprobation.

Alan Grayson and Keith Olbermann are my inspiration in exploring undiscovered and uncharted depths of depravity extending far beyond mere human imagination.

There is something vaguely familiar and resonating with the chanting of "I don't ever wanna grow up" : for some reason, it reminds me of Algore and the 2000 election, but I digress.

Not wanting to grow up does have its benefits, though. The hippy chicks seem to dig it when their maternal instincts kick in. But then again, the only "maternal" experience most of them have is resigned to an abortion clinic and the end result thereof. Again, I digress.

Talking about neighbors; such a coincidence! My neighbor is a... oh, I don't know what he does besides drinking beer and being unemployed for 2+ years. Sweet when you have a wife that's working steadily demonstrating her prog feminist side in role reversal. He's a prog, though, he told me he voted for Obama after he told me how much he hated black people. Lucky for him that Obama's a mulatto lest he assumes the title of a 'racist'!

Thank you for the suggestion of titanium. I've heard nothing but good things about it, and worth the extra stimulus money.

I think I may have seen Comrade Pupovich's head! There was this movie—I can't recall—that would use a stand-in for the main actor. Maybe from this picture you may know whom I'm referring to?:



Also, thank you for directing me to jessicaswell.com in one of your posts here. Again, I enjoyed reading your posts there and will probably continue to visit often.
 

Whinny, I am so glad to able to spread the Most Equal Sunshine of the Perfect Progressive Freedom of utter slavery and penury. Oh. Did I say that aloud? Sorry. My bad. I take it back.

The Perfect Freedom where there's Frenchman in every pot.

Poor, dear Pupovich.

https://thepeoplescube.com/peoples-blog/ ... t2664.html

Well, he asked for it with his talent-shitting pigeons.

I had to take severe action with my dear friend Pupovich.

Do be careful at http://www.jessicaswell.com, though; I have a horrible feeling that reactionaries might visit there. Have to assassinate the character of any that I find, of course.
 

What is this? Has my Party lost it's principles yet again? Five year plans, six year plans....

Let me simplify things yet again, without even the need to resort to PeoplesMath™.

XXXXX

How many X's are there?
5

XXXXXX
How many X's are there?
5

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
How many X's are there?
5

Perhaps the JiffyLobo franchise does need a bit more business.....
 

Pupovich, as usual you are a beacon of rationality. Of course XXXXXXXX is just five. Obviously. And is five too.

Thank you. I shall submit myself to Jiffy Lobo instantly.
 

Commissar Theocritus, it is so wonderful to see you again. I must admit that for some strange reason, I have felt even a bit more, dare I say guilt, for having been out of contact with you for some reason. I trust all is well with you and you have not had any more (unreasonable) problems with my pigeons?
 

Colonel 7.62,

If this 6 year plan is to be implemented, and we start right now, then in 2016, what will we accomplish at the end of those 6 years? What is the plan? You didn't say what the plan was. A Jiffi-Lobo within every square mile? All children korrectly educated according to the Olympia, Washington school of Most Progressive Progdom? 1000, or 100,000 Rachel Corrie martyrs? We must have details to our plan.
 

Leninka, your avatar scares the shit out of me. That's a good prog. Scaring the shit out of people.

Pupovich, thank you and I'm doing just fine. No, no more problems with the talent-shitting pigeons, but Calvin and Hobbes have learned to enjoy squab. Now it's the nano Jimmy Carter rabbits which confound.

I turn on the light in the great room of the Rancho and the floor seethes and heaves, and I hear this massive hissing, "Nuclar! Nuclar! Nuclar!" and it's a floor made of nano Jimmy Carter rabbits.

Thank you so freaking much, Pupovich. I go to the little room and the rabbits hiss at me. I cook and the rabbits hiss at me. I try to put my wallet in my pocket and the rabbits do their best to wrest it from my hands. After all, no good prog will ever turn loose of a wallet until the survivors pry his cold, dead fingers off it.
 

Whinny, never ever get out of touch with your Inner Prog™. That's what lets you react instantly and authentically whenever someone seems likely to diss you, or keep his own money, or suggest that you don't have a right to his property and liberty. That's why you hone your Inner Prog™, because you can't afford the time to think.

Do you think that Bruce Lee ever stopped to think before he fought? No! Of course not! He was trained beautifully and could spring to any side at any moment. And that's just martial arts.

A good prog will have taken at least 16 years of education of a proggish hue, and by the time he gets out of college, he will know instantly how to look for the iniquities of Western civilization and how to ignore the barbarities of all other civilizations. A good prog can read Susan Faludi complaining that only about 5% of the plumbers and pipe fitters are female, while Susan, excellent prog that she is, completely ignores community outreach by socialized medicine to Muslim families wishing to mutilate the genitals of their female babies to make them more marketable.

Now. If that's not a woman in touch with her Inner Prog™, I don't know what is.I just love Susan Faludi. How much more prog can you be? Complain that Joe the Plumber isn't Josephine the Plumber while ignoring Muslim girls' genitals being cut off and/or being sewed up. But then really, Muslims are pets to them, aren't they? I'm a gentry liberal and I think that those robes on the men are so cute. And there is nothing more beautiful than the call to prayer. And I don't believe that they want to kill us, even when they swear that they do, and when the do, because I don't want to kill me.See how that works? I'm a made prog, a gentry liberal, and it's all about me.Reality comes out of my ass.
Barry Hussy Obozo says so so it must be true.
 

Marshal Pupovich

What is this? Has my Party lost it's principles yet again? Five year plans, six year plans....

Let me simplify things yet again, without even the need to resort to PeoplesMath™.

XXXXX

How many X's are there?
5

XXXXXX
How many X's are there?
5

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
How many X's are there?
5

Perhaps the JiffyLobo franchise does need a bit more business.....

Perhaps Pupovich didn't get the memo?
How many X's are there?
V V V V V
5

Now how many X's are there?
OOOOOOO
5
Now how many X's are there?
5555555555555
6 year plan.

Easy as beet cake.
 

Laika, as usual you have nailed it absolutely. I'm sorry when I replied to Pupovich before; my superheterodyne, phased-antenna array, tin-foil hat was slightly out of kilter and I heard one single word of that fascist Rushmonster.

I beg your pardon. I'll repair instantly to the nearest Jiffy-Lobo.

Coming soon to a location near you! Jiffy Lobo for the Democrats, castration and nullification services for the RethugliKKKans lest they breed, and they're all monsters anyway.

We all know that the only way that a person can live is if he gives up what's important for the cause. Because I don't have a life unless I have a cause. I don't exist alone in a room.
 

We have beet cake? Nobody told me there was beet cake. Or is this cake a lie? If so, I'm going to be real unhappy.
 

Colonel 7.62

We have beet cake? Nobody told me there was beet cake. Or is this cake a lie? If so, I'm going to be real unhappy.
We have beet punch. Line forms to the Left. Beat you to the beet punch line.
 

This is what I get for standing in the latrine beating my.... oh never mind. Save me some of that beet punch please. I need to wash my hands.
 

7.62, because of your unswerving loyalty the party, I have made a conference with Laika and Pinkie and we have accorded you, and sit down for this, one extra beet a week. And if you are good with your pillaging and rapine, we'll make sure that least one half of it doesn't have mold.

Don't let it go to your head. Which is by the way NOT what Monica said to Bill.