Comrades! I have fabricated received this story from a good friend of mine at the National Geographic.

In a documentary on paleontology, an ancient microphone was found in Southern Washington D.C. My friend told me it was dated around the time of the Jurassic Period, circa 200 MYBC MYBCE.

Here's a photo.



On the bottom of the microphone, they found some ancient symbols, some kind of alphabet, which they had trouble decoding, so the people at NG ended their program with a call number if anyone had any clue about this microphone, obviously it isn't designed for dinosaurs of the fossils we find, it had to be a dinosaur of a different kind.

Later the next day. . .

National Geographic received a call from Helen Thomas, aparantly she is claiming ownership of said microphone.

Seen here at a press conferance.

Helen Thomas wrote: That was my 50th microphone! I created that from stone, a new material at the time. It replaced wood, which would be replaced by wood again.

The description says "I, Helen Thomas, declare this is my microphone. It is my 50th microphone."

She later went on to say she used the microphone to inteview herbasours and their struggle against the evil KKKonservative carnivours, climate change, continental shifts, and migrations.

The microphone is currently being cleaned up and processed. It will be displayed in the Smithsonian in about 3 months.

(off)

Again, I don't have a friend in the National Geographic, and please excuse the spelling errors. The public indoctrination system failed misurably with me in that department.

Back when Helen was a girl, the continents were all together as part of Pangea. Continental drift begn at her urging, as she foretold North America would one day attack the other continents so she said they should get as far away as they could from it. Unfortunately, she failed to forsee aircraft carriers and cruise missiles (i.e. weapons of terror) so in the end her continental drift did not protect the other continents from the imperialist North America anyway. But it was a good try.

Opiate, you are showing your characteristic generosity with Comradette Helen. She was actually middle aged when all the continents were one. I still recall when she and Sam Donaldson would share a microphone at the pressers of the odious Ronald Raygun and she would caw, in her screeching voice, questions at the repulsive Gipper.

I also recall when UPI was forced to admit that although they were the progs' prog, no one gave a damn about them and all of their minions had to take a 35% pay cut. Helen, in her dedication to progitude, stayed on, to make sure that we all received the Current Truth on our tin-foil hats.


I nearly soiled myself laughing when that screeching bitch had to take a 35% pay cut. I wouldn't have paid her in burnt matches but still her stock was so low that <i>she had to take it</i>.

Yes, Commissar, those were the days... While observing the flurry of righteous progressive indignation that was the media's questioning of Raygun, I often wondered whose toupee was more in danger of coming loose, Sam's or Helen's. I'll tell you a secret; I sometimes wish there were a Republican president again only to relive what it was like to see reporters metaphorically attack a politician like a wolf pack attacks its prey (and surely if the Secret Service were not present, it would be literal instead of figurative.) Such a stark contrast to the entirely justified (but visually boring) journalistic fellatio - which would probably also be literal instead of figurative - that we have now.

[microphone off]
Helen gets paid????? I somehow thought she hectored for a hobby, sort of like termintes eating wood because what they do is who they are; and it was focused on the president because everybody else would throw her out after 5 mintues of non-stop querulousness.

I've always had the uncanny ability to spot a fellow traveler just by their appearance (or body odor).

After years of anger, resentment, frustration and intolerance the face becomes contorted, personal hygiene becomes an afterthought as does any sense of fashion. Often our comrades acquire a taste for strong drink which leads to a bulbous red fibrosal nose. In the end they often succumb to drug addiction or cirrhosis.

I can only imagine what this next generation of comrades will look like in old age with the addition of facial tattoos and piecing scars.

Ah. The joy of tattoos on sagging skin. I wonder what the rubber doughnuts in the ear lobes will look like by then. The implanted horns and all the metal studs and beads. And of course the tongue balls, which are meant, I'm told, to improve oral sex and which will be entirely appropriate while expressing their devotions to Rock Obama.

You can spot the prog with the sound off on the television from the hunched shoulders, the indrawn head, and the palpable resentment.

Commissar Theocritus wrote:Opiate, you are showing your characteristic generosity with Comradette Helen. She was actually middle aged when all the continents were one. I still recall when she and Sam Donaldson would share a microphone at the pressers of the odious Ronald Raygun and she would caw, in her screeching voice, questions at the repulsive Gipper.

I also recall when UPI was forced to admit that although they were the progs' prog, no one gave a damn about them and all of their minions had to take a 35% pay cut. Helen, in her dedication to progitude, stayed on, to make sure that we all received the Current Truth on our tin-foil hats.



I nearly soiled myself laughing when that screeching bitch had to take a 35% pay cut. I wouldn't have paid her in burnt matches but still her stock was so low that <i>she had to take it</i>.

Let's see, that would make her about. . . aw heck, I don't know her age, both now and back when the continents were one.

However, I looked up what that pay cut was about. First off, I'd of loved to of heard her scream, a 35% cut is a big cut, and someone like her just sounds like a screamer. Second, I'm surprised her scream didn't break the sound barrier, or at least our eardrums.

Commissar_Elliot!!

There has been an urgent update on the artifact found. It turns out that in National Geographic's usual fashion of printing theories and speculation assuming if repeated often enough it will sooner or later be taken as cold fact, however; their "scientists" have discovered (blind squirrles too may accidentally find a nut) what the relic really is......

It turns out to be one of Helen Thomas' fossilized tampons! The process of fossilization has dramatically shrunk it but none the less this has been comfirmed.

Vernon Wes at AIM said this about her: “Saturday Night Live” or the former Fox News “Half Hour News Hour” satire could not produce a fictional character who more tellingly parodies the liberal media than this grand dame of the liberalism that pervades the mainstream media."

First off, my name is spelled Elliott, two t's.

Second, I'm cringing at the thought of her fossilized tampon.

Third, what is up with people giving me skullf_cks recently?! First Theo, then the Colonel, now this?! What's next, they will tell me Hillary Clinton's vagina eats people? Wait, it already does.

Fourth, what is next?

Proletarian Robot, that was Helen's Mesozoic Marxipad. It has been reliably dated to 151 million years ago, give or take 10,000 years.

Elliott, have you heard of MSNBC's newest political coverage? Helen Thomas and Keith Olbermann make a porn movie and between couplings denounce the Rethuglicans.

Yet another Helen artifact found! The condom from Helen's first date. And it's still in use!

For a second I thought that was her nose.

Commissar Theocritus wrote: Elliott, have you heard of MSNBC's newest political coverage? Helen Thomas and Keith Olbermann make a porn movie and between couplings denounce the Rethuglicans.

. . . rrrrrrrrRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAH .

Now that that is out of the way, I haven't heard of this, I may have to look into this WITH EXTREME CAUTION.

Leninka wrote:Yet another Helen artifact found! The condom from Helen's first date. And it's still in use!

Something of that magnitude might get broken off during sex due to Helen's many, many folds of skin.

If Helen stops having sex, the flour saved will feed a family of four for a year.

Elliott, I thought that you were as much of a prude as I was when I was your age. But since then...

Commissar Theocritus wrote:If Helen stops having sex, the flour saved will feed a family of four for a year.

Be warned, I don't have a server I can upload this to so be warned people.

Commissar Theocritus wrote:Elliott, I thought that you were as much of a prude as I was when I was your age. But since then...

Heavens no, thanks to some of my friends and classmates, sex/sexual innuendos don't shock me that much anymore, as a matter of fact, not much else does, but that's beside the point.

What bothered me about THAT IMAGE was I could picture it perfectly, and to describe my imagination on normal function, let me quote Bart Simpson, "Damn TV it ruined my ability to um. . .uh, well you know." So seeing something like THAT so perfectly disturbed me a bit to much.

When I was perhaps 15 I was a goody two-shoes; teachers' pet and so forth. So I determined that I'd learn everything blue that I could, to the point I probably know more dirty jokes than anyone else I know. Good ones, that is.

Commissar Theocritus wrote:When I was perhaps 15 I was a goody two-shoes; teachers' pet and so forth. So I determined that I'd learn everything blue that I could, to the point I probably know more dirty jokes than anyone else I know. Good ones, that is.

At least you know good ones as opposed to crappy ones like I heard all the time, how many times did she actually say what you said?!

The Cajun Phillipe wasn't at work for two days. His friend Boudreau went to look for him and found him sitting on the front porch of his house drinking red wine.

"Phillipe! What's up with you? You look like you done lost your best friend!"

"Boudreau, Marie done left me. I think she go with that drummer from Baton Rouge," and he takes another swig of wine.

"Phillipe," Boudreau says, "I got some bad news and some good news. Which you want first?"

"I think I take the bad news first."

"Me and my brother was crabbing in the bayou last night and we don't find no crabs for hours. So we take the boat in and we turn around a cypress tree I see something red. 'Boudreau,' I says to myself, 'That surely do look like that red dress my friend Phillipe give his wife Marie last Christmas.'

"We take the boat over to the red and Phillipe, I got to tell you that your wife Marie is dead."

Phillipe wipes away a tear and takes a drink. "Now after that bad news, I think I got a right to the good news."

Boudreau said brightly, "There was 19 crabs on the body and we gonna drag it through the bayou again tomorrow!"

You just had to pick crabs, didn't you? Hahaha. . . I am actually laughing though.