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Here you go Pinkie

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I think I got everything you specified.

Golden shovel...check

Golden boob armor with cleavage spike...check

Your lucky red head scarf that was worn by Che'...check

White rose to accent your beauty, grace and charm...priceless
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Whoopie, I saw on the news this week (Diane Sawyer, who specializes in all the hard-hitting stuff) that Wonder Woman has undergone a makeover to give her a more "global" appearance.

I have no idea what the hell they meant by that, since she already looked pretty global to me. But you have certainly done the same to me! I love it!

Now all I need is an invisible Gulfstream so I can jet around raising awareness of how much I care about the issues I make out of everything, without the unwashed masses complaining about my carbon footprint. I know neither Al Gore nor Laurie David have one, and I bet they wish they did. In fact, I'll bet Al wishes a lot of things were invisible right now.

Oh, and as promised, Whoopie:
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BTW, for one week each month, a red rose should be substituted for the white one a la Camille. I don't need to tell you which week, anyone can deduce it easily from my mood.

Now what have the rest of you comrades done for me lately?

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I'm deeply honored Pinkie, I shall cherish your award and hold it dear to my heart.

Oh, the "global" change amounted to stripping off Wonder Woman's star spangled shorts, replacing them with black skin tight long pants.

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Oh Commissarka!!!!!! If I was only 90 years younger, sigh...............................

[highlight=#ffff99]"Now what have the rest of you comrades done for me lately?"[/highlight]
Remember a certain Egg I paid 500 Euros for after it was switched for a fake? (the joke's on the thief because it was worth 5,000).

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Commissarka Pinkie wrote:
Now what have the rest of you comrades done for me lately?
Commissarka! Have you forgotten that I ordered for you the Lakia™ edition Kosmokar?
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You would look stunning with such attire...men would be dazzled as you drove about swinging your shovel and speaking words of encouragement to the masses. Words such as 'The light's green, let's GO!' Please remember, you were the inspiration behind the poster that quickens the pulse of any red-blooded proletariat! Though your dress might be mundane, your beauty understated to be more politically acceptable for an audience of complete rubes and imbiciles, it is nonetheless breathtaking!
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Always available to be scratched behind the ears, your humble servant, - GMT
Last edited by General Mousey-Tongue on 7/3/2010, 2:11 am, edited 1 time in total.
Reason for editing this post: purrsuit of purrfection!

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General, how good to see you again. We have several reports to review.

Will you be visiting again soon, or was this a vacation from your vacation? (I realize you do not intend to exceed his O'liness in vacation and golf time away, I'm just trying to keep your schedule up to date)

How's the Texas Hold-em tourney going any way?

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Most Glorious depiction of the fair Commisarka Comrade Whoopie and congrats on your Beet!

Now if you'll excuse me, gotta go fetch some Neosporin and a few band-aids. That Cleavage Spike ™ leaves a mark!

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Yeah don't it though? I almost put out an eye.

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Grigori! General Mousey-Tongue!

I can always count on my favorite drunken holy man and my favorite cat to come through for me with the usual array of fresh, free range Faberge eggs and Pinkie-pink Cadillacs!

If Red Rooster were here, I would pluck him, truss him, roast him, then carve him up into little bits just for you, Mousey-Tongue, because I know just how much cats love chicken!

And then I would take his red feathers and turn them into a boa for myself.

Where is he, anyway?

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Comrade Whoopie, congratulations on your Beet of the Week award! (snif) I have never received such an honor, but it must be purrfectly divine to proudly display your beet to the envy of all your friends and family.

My good comrade Reuixcat, how good to see you again! I have always been toiling for the party, sometimes here, sometimes there. I tend to go where my feline fancies lead me. After an informative fact-finding mission at the cathouses of Kunming, I am back (at least until my next assignment). The poker game, well, let's just say those clueless pooches had not a collar left among them by the time the night was out! They obviously never learned 'when to fold 'em' like the song goes.

Commissarka Pinkie wrote:If Red Rooster were here, I would pluck him, truss him, roast him, then carve him up into little bits just for you, Mousey-Tongue, because I know just how much cats love chicken!

And then I would take his red feathers and turn them into a boa for myself.

Where is he, anyway?
I do love chicken so, I was thinking Colonel Saunders thoughts about him myself when I read his recent outrageous thread on this blog. He would probably not be as tender and juicy as I prefer, but if you wish to reward me for my tireless work for the party (OK, tireless for a cat, maybe) I would most enjoy him in a sherry glace, with a touch of endive. His absence after throwing this Molotov cocktail is most suspicious indeed. And speaking of suspicious absences, what of our favorite furry buffoon, Marshall Pupovich? I have not caught a whiff of him for quite some time now. It may sound strange, perhaps even a bit disturbing, but I actually miss him and his show-trial fetish.

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I've heard many rumors about Pupovich. One person claims he was seen in the Nicaraguan jungle trying to re-organize the glorious Sandinista army. Another swears he's been in Venezuela helping Chavez nationalize oil rigs. I think the most credible report places him in Bangkok Thailand recruiting new talent for his pleasure palace.

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I think the most credible report places him in Bangkok Thailand recruiting new talent for his pleasure palace.

I have credible intel that such "Pleasure Palaces" typically shirk their forced duty and responsibility of paying taxes for the collective.

Not to say Comrade Pupovich isn't pitching in his share mind you... just sayin' someone should drop by to keep things on the up and up...

My cousin Comrade Cletus is exactly the man for the job! He only request from the state six bottles of vodka, $10,000 in ones, a tip calculator and one new Hawaiian shirt ....

NOTE: If you search for Comrade Cletus on Youtube the following shows up.



If you sat through that (I still haven't made it to the end, BUT I'M GONNA!) without at least a drop of drool hitting your shirt..... well, I denounce you...

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That Lucy (@5:22) looks a lot like Leninka. Maybe it's just the yellow bows on her pigtails. Oh and red eyes and horns.

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I too miss Pupovich and wonder what became of him, though I can't say as I miss the dog hair and fleas he got all over the furniture in the corner office we shared. I can remember a time when he slept here, had his mail forwarded here, claimed the Cube as his voting precinct, and even brought his laundry here every weekend.

Now I worry that he may have been hit by a Prius, or that he's one of over two hundred dogs, cats, rabbits, and other animals being kept by some demented old lady auditioning for that "Hoarders" show on A&E.

But I also can't help wondering if I could get the promotion that would surely go to him if only he were here to denounce himself and act in his usual whiny downtrodden way. Talk about an attention hound.

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Even after searching through several dimensions (and boy the Pup's Pleasure Palace in Dimension 3.11 is WILD!) I still haven't seen the old pooch.

Pinkie, I don't think you need a promotion. You are THE Commissarka. The flash of light off your golden shovel, and your brilliant red headscarf (BTW, did you get that bolt of red hand woven silk?) tells the whole world your rank. I mean damn, you are the only person my controls over space and time don't work on. It's as if you have your own gravitational well surrounding you or something. Nobody else ranks that.

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Colonel 7.62 wrote:Even after searching through several dimensions (and boy the Pup's Pleasure Palace in Dimension 3.11 is WILD!) I still haven't seen the old pooch.

Pinkie, I don't think you need a promotion. You are THE Commissarka. The flash of light off your golden shovel, and your brilliant red headscarf (BTW, did you get that bolt of red hand woven silk?) tells the whole world your rank. I mean damn, you are the only person my controls over space and time don't work on. It's as if you have your own gravitational well surrounding you or something. Nobody else ranks that.

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I stand in solidarity with Colonel 7.62... true there is none other...

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...that really kinda scares me.


 
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