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I denounce Marshall Pupovich

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Cradle to Grave Marxist wrote:I wan a Turducken.

I don't know if they have them where you are, but they had turducken's at the Walmart for about $50 the other day. Here it is the Marshal, practically living in the home of the turducken, and have never had one.

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Reiuxcat wrote:He he, the potato vodka has been particularly good this evening.

I have only now discovered I was logged out of the web site. It is evident to me someone here has been trying to silence me. The question is why?

I will find out, and let the guilty party beware!


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You go, CAT!

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General,

I would like to take this moment to remind you that dolphins and other cetaceans are not 'seafood' but mammals, like yourself. We enjoy fish as much as you, and I have a lovely can of security sealed caviar with your name on it, as a welcome gift from Housekeeping to Security and Seafood testing. Should you find yourself in need of any quick wetwork, cleanup, backup, or emergency extraction, Housekeeping exists to serve.

Yours in the Cube
Sister


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Marshal Pupovich wrote:
Cradle to Grave Marxist wrote:I wan a Turducken.

I don't know if they have them where you are, but they had turducken's at the Walmart for about $50 the other day. Here it is the Marshal, practically living in the home of the turducken, and have never had one.

The Terduckens I saw ranged from $50 to $100 uncooked but assembled, and even to buy the birds boned, end up costing about the same amount... and it is wise to let a butcher bone the bird as it is a good way for those not good with knives to end up with a Terdigiducken... mmm... chicken fingers... but almost all the videos I watched mentioned that there are great disparities in the directions concerning cooking time and temperature that could lead to food poisoning, and so to cook properly, can, supposedly take up to 9 hours! As one lady put it, who wants to get up at 5:00 a.m. to start cooking Christmas dinner. However, a number of caterers will deliver them fresh cooked, hot, and ready to serve on the day of, and they all seemed to be in the $200 range... it all seems a little unnatural to me, frankly.... Like Frankenturkey.

Although a iittle turkey would not go amiss right now... it's supposed to make you sleepy isn't it?... I have been trying to fall asleep for an hour and I can't stop fidgeting... maybe some cocoa...


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Yes Heir Doktor... it was just this and several other videos that I found... some quite disturbing... perhaps it is why I cannot sleep... or not...

I cannot seem to get my brain to shut off... a condition known as monkey-mind among Buddhists... and so all the more troubling that I should suffer from it... monkey-mind, my blow-hole! Pah!... I shall simply have to take four or five more Valium... now, are the blue ones 1 mg or 10 mg?... the yellow 5 mg or 10?... the white 1 mg or 5mg?... Damn... I can never remember... well... might as well take one of each... 16 mg will knock me on my flukes and wear off in five hours which is when I have to be up and I won't have bad dreams of Frankenchickens... or I could just try another cup of cocoa... oh.. wait... there are little numbers on them... well.. that makes it easier, doesn't it...

Toodles...

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Dearest Sister,

I also have the same difficulty getting my brain to shut off at night. Unless I'm way too stressed or excited, it helps to have some background white noise (like the TV or radio with the volume down to the point that words are just barely audible such that my mind latches onto them instead of making its own words/thoughts) along with this:

http://www.swansonvitamins.com/SWU114/ItemDetail

It works well most of the time.

TTFN

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Sister Massively Opiated wrote:General,

I would like to take this moment to remind you that dolphins and other cetaceans are not 'seafood' but mammals, like yourself. We enjoy fish as much as you, and I have a lovely can of security sealed caviar with your name on it, as a welcome gift from Housekeeping to Security and Seafood testing. Should you find yourself in need of any quick wetwork, cleanup, backup, or emergency extraction, Housekeeping exists to serve.

Yours in the Cube
Sister

Thank you, Comrade Sister! Of course our aquatic mammal comrades are an important political caucus, and perhaps we can form an awareness committee to raise the issues of gill nets, boating accidents and other unfortunate risks that negatively impact the quality of life experienced by aquatic mammals. Every manatee scarred by a boat propeller in the bayou, every porpoise purposely snared in tuna nets, is another potential aqua-voter eliminiated.

As to the caviar, YES! Some mop-up will be necessary from time to time, as we need to clean up any motherland security unpleasantness. My seafood testing, facilitated by Comrade Che Gourmet, might also get messy at times - but I will attempt to keep the collective in tidy order, as any self-respecting cat would do. Your thoughtfulness is greatly appreciated!

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Marshall Pupovich, why do I need to keep reminding you that I have many titles? I am indeed a plenipotentiary. Need I remind you about the impaling? I swear, Pupovich, a stake beats a medal any day.

And Dr. Strangelove, yes indeed the gay identity is factitious. But then any identity manufactured by identity politics is the same, which is I suppose tautological. Nonetheless there are, I've found, a few differences other than the obvious sexual proclivities. I've found for example that husbands tend to pay more attention to their wives when I'm around, and a (straight) friend said that he thought that gays often were able to see through things that others simply took for granted. I'm still not entirely sure about that. Because if I start making identity-group claims soon I'll try to walk on water and his O'liness has that one locked up.

But there is one thing that I will credit the gay world with doing, and that is coining the phrase "drama queen." If you have a hammer every problem needs a hammer. And ever since I heard "drama queen" I realized that the world is run by them, gay, straight, male, female, and all the shades in between. It explains all begging letters and commercials which present a problem in terms intended to scare you and then your salvation is at hand--by the person who, entirely disinterestedly, is at hand to relieve you of the problem. And your money. Drama queens all.

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Commissar Theocritus wrote: the gay identity


I have read that tomorrow is "Day without a Gay" day in support if the Kalifonia Light Loafer Brigade, let us see who "calls in sick" tomorrow.

Why bother with actual facts when circumstantial evidence is sufficient?

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Reiuxcat, let us never forget that circumstantiality is now the same thing as causality. This was proven when the Right Honorable High Priest of the Church of Gaia, Al Gore, was born nine months after the arrival of the UFO in Roswell.

As to that "Day without a Gay." Hard to imagine anything more preening and pompous. This reminds me for some reason of the time that some moonbat feminists decided to make men appreciate what it was like to be hit on. They said, "Grab a man's ass and see how he likes it."

We do, we do, we do.

I insist on being tolerated, which does <i>not</i> mean being embraced, licked, affirmed, supported or even liked. Anything else is gravy.

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Reiuxcat wrote:I will grovel repeatedly as soon as I am released from the rack and my feet touch the floor.

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Reiuxcat, I will gladly release you for a little groveling if you'll tell me what sort of sick mind would have a closet so well organized, that all their pants are hung neatly together on those hangers with the cardboard thingies.

And should I find out this same sick mind has the temerity to own--and USE--some kind of shoe rack, instead of letting the shoes pile up in mismatched disarray on the closet floor (or better yet, scattered all over the house), I will personally see them against the wall.

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Pinkie, do not despair. Notice that the pants are <i>not</i> in order by color. That would of course be grounds for instant impalement. And the hangars are not the same color, so be not disturbed.

But, and I blush to say this, my shoes are on a shoe rack. In fact the house has eight built-in shoe racks. But my redemption is that my dress shoes stay in my luggage and I wear the others until you can count my toes. The only shoes on a rack are two pairs. Shoe-proud I'm not.

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:Pinkie, do not despair. Notice that the pants are <i>not</i> in order by color. That would of course be grounds for instant impalement. And the hangars are not the same color, so be not disturbed.

But, and I blush to say this, my shoes are on a shoe rack. In fact the house has eight built-in shoe racks. But my redemption is that[HIGHLIGHT=#ffffff] my dress shoes [/HIGHLIGHT]stay in my luggage and I wear the others until you can count my toes. The only shoes on a rack are two pairs. Shoe-proud I'm not.



So tell me my dear Commissar, Do you prefer pumps or mules with your dress? And where do you keep your suit shoes?


Sometimes I like to wear high boots and pretend I am a froggie in Montmarte.

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You laugh but haven't you seen the fashion of men wearing Gummi-Bear mules with holes in them?

I personally quit even camp drag when I saw a picture of me (and I'm a big guy) at a Halloween party as Ethel Merman. I don't know if not shaving my mustache made me more of a realistic Ethel Merman or not.

But there is a saying in the gay world: All clothing is drag. How true. And to extend it I go in drag as a caring-n-compassionate person. In fact I use the Democratic party as a personal shopper for my conspicuous compassion. And when I do that I wear a fair-trade hair shirt.

Which I'm <i>always</i> ready to give someone--right off my back.

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:You laugh but haven't you seen the fashion of men wearing Gummi-Bear mules with holes in them?

I personally quit even camp drag when I saw a picture of me (and I'm a big guy) at a Halloween party as Ethel Merman. I don't know if not shaving my mustache made me more of a realistic Ethel Merman or not.

But there is a saying in the gay world: All clothing is drag. How true. And to extend it I go in drag as a caring-n-compassionate person. In fact I use the Democratic party as a personal shopper for my conspicuous compassion. And when I do that I wear a fair-trade hair shirt.

Which I'm <i>always</i> ready to give someone--right off my back.


Who's laughing, Bunions are a serious health issue. I ask all comrade pump wearers, "Am I right?"



Hair shirt? Quoting Betty, "Ewwww..."

I'd like to laugh now if it is permissible.

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:In fact the house has eight built-in shoe racks.

We would be disappointed, Comrade Vlad, if you had fewer than eight built-in racks at your house.

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Just out of curiosity, how many built-in hanging cages and cradles are there at Rancho del Rio Grande?

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Marshal Pupovich wrote:Perhaps, no.... I am sure you don't have more of them Dolphin's around you could give a humble Marshal eh?

Yo G, be careful. We tend to tack the pins, medals, and badges on when awarded. Oh, I forgot to explain why I hit SMO on her chest after I pinned on her dolphins.

Naval MORONS
<br>Other Naval (USMC) MORONS

Theo wrote:I swear, Pupovich, a stake beats a medal any day.

Let me see, you can pin a medal on a stake or pin the medal on WITH a stake--seems equal to me.

Yo, Commissars,

Not to complain, I do like carrying my people's rappin boom box with 12 volt car battery, and my people's hand-pump tagger paint sprayer, and my people's lead-lined reactor-safe shovel, my people's urban bar kit complete with the new deal MD 20/20 favors, and my people's purge-time mosin vintovka with 5 live rounds (may The One bless you MTE for that gift to this undeserving prole)

BUT

when can I get a fancy Pistol Makarova like Commisar Theo? Not to complain, but the people's drive-bys are a bit akward with the M91/30 rifle in my apartment-block's Trabi 601 (thank Lenin we were able to trade in the P 50 Trabant)
ImageHell, I'd even settle for a good Nagant revolver, Image for Obama Nativity Day this Dec 25th.





Da Peep's Rapper
Comrade “Pul” хулиганье
Tiglath-Pileser III
Over 2753 Years of Organizing Communities

And makin' thugs out you suckas.
From the cradle to the grave.

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Commissar Theocritus, I am still a bit dismayed that you would think I was responsible for your recent "talent show" at the Ranch. I have just reviewed the BDA (Bird Damage Assessment), While the images are not as clear as we would normally develop. This appears to be due to two reasons. First there was a good bit of smoke from the burning stakes surrounding your property. Apparently the unfortunates who were impaled there had a high fat content and thus produce a great deal of smoke. Then there is also a problem caused by atmospheric inversion layer distortion caused by the warm thermal layer and what spectral analysis reveals as a dense layer of cheap perfume and cheap cigar smoke from Bruno's quarters. However, from the images we were able to develop, there only appears to be a passing resemblance between what you report and that which we normally would expect from a BTS LGB 500 (Bird Talent Shitting Laser Guided Bomb). Now while it is true the 4th Avian Bomber Wing was conducting an exercise in an undisclosed testing range not far from your ranch, I have been assured that all weapons were delivered on target and there were no "friendly fire" incidents. However, would you say that this attack was effective in theory? If one had actually been ordered?

Now I have heard they are making some fine progress with Project Pigeon which has been revised. Did I forget to mention that I studied Psychology and was trained in the Behavioral School? But I can neither confirm nor deny having any knowledge of this. Either way Commissar, I am truly hurt that you would think that I would have any thing to do with this unfortunate incident. Have you investigated the Chairman's whereabouts during this time? Perhaps someone was trying to "reach out and touch" the Chairman, and mistakenly got you. Were you wearing a hat at the time or have any money in your pockets?

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[HIGHLIGHT=#ffff00]Che, I do love sea scallops, and halibut. Never fried[/HIGHLIGHT][HIGHLIGHT=#ffff00]
[/HIGHLIGHT][HIGHLIGHT=#ffff00]As to the caviar, YES! [/HIGHLIGHT] [HIGHLIGHT=#ffff00] My seafood testing, facilitated by Comrade Che [/HIGHLIGHT][HIGHLIGHT=#ffff00]Gourmet, might also get messy at times[/HIGHLIGHT]

[HIGHLIGHT=#ffff00] [/HIGHLIGHT]


To General Mousey-Tongue & SMO

Speaking of Seafood Testing ~ I have just received my first order of stone crab claws, halibut cheeks(taste like scallops), wild Alaskan blackcod, and yelloweyed rockfish (snapper) fresh from Kodiak, which is where the disgraced Senator Ted Stevens is working now. He gave me such a price break, so come on over and do your thing; test this fantastic catch at Lucretia Borgia People's Restaurant. I'm working over there now, as I have promoted Wolfgang Pup as the PHK's new top chef. Whenever Commissar Theocritis gets around to actual menus, he will need your important input.

As to the messiness, "clean as you go" is the motto of any chef worth his salt!

poring over recipes for seafood,

Che' Gourmet

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Dr. Strangelove, I have taken down all the hanging cradles. I found that they attracted the less desirable element of Bruno's little friends, and the clean-up. The clean-up. I know that I built the Rancho to be sluiced down easily after each visit of Our Many Titted Empress, but once Bruno's little friends left a mess rivaling the mess that our MTE, Molly Yard and Janet Reno left after a two-day bender with a welding truck.

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Pupovich, I applaud your efforts at training a BTS LGB 500. We can use these to bomb the Rethuglicans at their next convention, if there are still elections after four years of his O'liness. I have noticed that the volume/weight ratio of pigeon shit to pigeon weight is the highest of any of the birds. To increase that and thereby increase the talent-shitting abilities of the pigeons I am planning on inserting some of Bonnie Fwank's DNA into a benign virus and injecting it into pigeon eggs. I'm sure that we can get some of his DNA from his Georgetown townhouse, but must be very careful not to get any from the customers that his boyfriend found for his rent-a-boy ring.

Although if we got the DNA of his boyfriend, and injected it into a pigeon for a cross-species hybrid, it could rival Meow for sheer reckless greed.

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Che, I know that Mousey-Tongue wants seafood, and in fact insists on seafood, as though were we not all subject to the diktats of party service in furtherance of the Progressive World of Next Tuesday.

Why do you not make a nice fish stock and use it to poach the pigeons who gave their all in their talent-shitting at the Rancho? Mousey-Tongue won't know as long as it reeks of fish.

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:Pupovich, I applaud your efforts at training a BTS LGB 500. We can use these to bomb the Rethuglicans at their next convention, if there are still elections after four years of his O'liness.

Thank you Commissar, and rest assured, I am still looking into whether there was an unauthorized attack on your ranch or mistaken friendly fire incident, and you can be sure, if so, heads will roll! Not mine of course, I will take credit for a successful test. However, there is one other source that we need to consider. As you know, our Hero Space Dog has been in orbit for a very long time in a small capsule. So as you can imagine, he must release his wastes from time to time. Now we track thousands of such space debris in our Space Command headquarters, but while such small bits of waste matter burn up upon reentry, occasionally some survive to hit the earth. So depending on what he ate for that batch, it is possible that you may have been just an unfortunate victim of shall we say, a "shooting shit" from the sky?

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:Dr. Strangelove, I have taken down all the hanging cradles. I found that they attracted the less desirable element of Bruno's little friends, and the clean-up. The clean-up. I know that I built the Rancho to be sluiced down easily after each visit of Our Many Titted Empress, but once Bruno's little friends left a mess rivaling the mess that our MTE, Molly Yard and Janet Reno left after a two-day bender with a welding truck.

Comrade Vlad, you can take some shot gun shells and empty out the shot and replace it with the seeds of flowing vines to make "seed shot." Then, after having your victim guest enter into the cold warm embrace of the hanging cradle, you can shoot the victim worthy sacrifice for The PartyTM with the flowing vine "seed shot." The vines will take care of the mess as the corpse decomposes, thereby, as Comrade Che will tell you, cleaning as the corpse goes, and the "shooting shit" from the sky will act as additional fertilizer. The result will be a beautiful ornamental hanging plant, and haven't you always wanted a hanging garden at Rancho del Rio Grande?

I've prepared these short demonstrational videos to help get you started, the second video being the most pertinent:





Of course, the alternative method is to mix the vine seeds into some Wealth SpreadTM and slather it onto the host body after a day on the dunking stool, keep watered, and then CH-CH-CH-CHIA! (Won't Bruno be excited by such a Solstice surprise?!)




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Hmm, Dr., you give me pause to think. If we put flowering seeds in the fruit that Bruno wears on his head when he's doing Carmen Miranda, then he could have a Cha-Cha-Chia.

You know, I have to admit I simply don't remember what Bruno looks like when he's not doing Carmen, or Liza, or Babs--now <i>there's</i> a racket for you. Hey! Maybe that's what caused the bird attack, all that caterwauling. As we know Babs doesn't as much sing as wrestle the song to the ground and kneel on its throat.

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Goddamn it, Pupovich! On leaving the Rancho this morning I saw some more evidence of your perfidy! Another of your birds did talent-shitting on my garage door, with no place to perch to do it!

<b>You shall pay</b>.

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Commissar, did I not swear to you that have taken steps to ensure such an incident would not repeat itself? Even in the light of your alleged attempt to Jeffo Lobe me I would not allow this. BTW, You must know I would notice if you had messed with my brain. You must know I would notice if you had messed with my brain. You must know I would notice if you had messed with my brain. You must know I would notice if you had messed with my brain. Da?

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Okay, Pupovich, I believe you. Let's meet at the the Jifi-Lobo at 203 Main Street in Houston. Let's be sure to get there at the same time, though. I've been going to Jifi-Lobo so much, owing to impure thoughts like capitalism and the worry that His O'liness may be a self-righteous sack of America-bashing socialist shit that the last time I was there I stuffed a grease rag into my mouth, thinking it was a doughnut.

I don't want that to happen again. That left a taste in my mouth the last last time that our Many Titted Empress was at the Rancho and she teabagged me.

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I would love to meet you at the Jiffi Lobo.... but lately I have noticed it is difficult for me to navigate, much less to do so on time. But if I were you, and thank Lenin that I am not, I would not worry about those impure thoughts. No, relish them Commissar, let the guilt infuse you completely. Guilt is a good thing for a progressive such as you.... up till the time SMERSH collects you.

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Sister Massively Opiated wrote:
Lenin 'n' Thingies wrote:Pupovich is being denounced once again? WTH?! Let's just denounce him in perpetuity,and call it a day :)


But,while I'm on the subject,I would like to denounce pneumonia. You suck,Pneumonia!!....... I'm hockin' my lungs up. :(

Dear Comrade Lenin 'n' Thingies,

I devoutly wish that you had not also been afflicted. I am just getting over a bout, though not remotely as bad as the one that put me in the hospital last January. Beside the obvious, it is exhausting and frustratingly slow to bounce back from. But please, take advice from a pro, cough and cough and cough as much as you can... drink ridiculous amounts of water and although it's exhausting, get up and move around as often as you feel you are able. If there is someone available to help you and you are not too sore, or like me, at risk of breaking a bone, if someone can thump you gently on the upper back (not too low... just over where your lungs are and not your spine... just a gentle thumping) for a minute or so several times a day, it will, surprisingly, help to loosen things up. I thought this was ridiculous the first time I had pneumonia before my bones were so weak, and a nurse practitioner showed Javier how to do this for me, but then a friend who has cystic fibrosis in her family - a disease where the lungs fill up uncontrollably with mucus - told me that people with CF often have to have this done to them several times a day and it is a useful therapy... who knew! Also, if you can tolerate a shower and the steam doesn't make it too difficult to breathe, a few drops of essential oils - menthol and eucalyptus - in the corner farthest from the shower head will vaporize and will help open up your chest to help it clear out that much faster - also a tip from a nurse. I know it's exhausting and painful to cough so much, but it's the best thing for you to bring up as much gunk as possible. And it will help you to feel less exhausted, as paradoxical as that sounds, because the clearer your lungs are, the easier it is for you to oxygenate your blood.

I'm so sorry you're sick. I've just finished my antibiotics and although I'm done with the bug, I'm still coughing with a couple fractured ribs, and I have to push myself to not sleep constantly, though I'm still resting a lot. After you're over it and out in the world again, if you're in a place where it is already winter, like I am, make sure you cover your face with a scarf when you go out because the cold air is going to be really bad for your chest for a while, despite the fact that it is still good to go out in the fresh air... it just needs to be warmed up a bit before you breathe it in.

Sorry for the info dump. It's just that once you've had it, pneumonia is easy to get again if you're not careful, and you'll be especially susceptible this winter to not just pneumonia but to any upper respiratory bug, and if you get a cold or flu, it'll be easier to get an opportunistic bacterial respiratory infection. I hope you feel better soon and that you're not too sore from coughing. I know how uncomfortable it can feel.

So... I concur... forget Pupovich... he will always be getting up to some trouble and we will always forgive him because he's OUR Pup.. Instead, denounce pneumonia... and Comrade L'n'T - by all means, keep purging it as well...

Be well
SMO
I feel so bad...i never did see your missive to me,SMO...after I wrote that comment I was not feeling too swell,so I never checked back. But thank you for your kind words and for wishing me well :)

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I missed that too, SMO. And you're right about pneumonia. I had it in 1996 and haven't had it since but lungs do tend to want to fill up. Mine are somewhat strange though--everyone asks if I'm a heavy smoker. No, never. But the peritonitis in 1995 filled my chest cavity with pus--24 surgical drains, which are like clear plastic lemons with fiber tails which suck it out--about a quart a day, I was told, but I was out in a coma for five weeks. But that purulence causes scarring, and my lungs are scarred, and my intestines are locked into place. Twice I've had an NG tube because something--broccoli, dried apple--couldn't work its way through. Several days in hospital, craving morphine until the tube gets in, that sort of thing. But never, thank god, another case of pneumonia.

Hey! Do you think i could go to one of those shyster firms for mesothelioma or something like that and get some cash? I'd open up some more Jiffi-Lobos then and really rake it in.

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Thanks for all of those details, Vlad. I think I'll take that Jiffi-Lobo(TM) now, so long as you can guarantee it will erase the memory of your story of having pus drained from your lungs 24 times...

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No, drained twice a day from 24 drains for about four weeks. Actually I was at first in a chemically induced coma, and then intensive-case psychosis, which is a real treat. The sensory deprivation of ICU causes all sorts of lovely delusions.

This was just after the OKC bombings. I'd shift around and throw off a heart monitor and the machine would squall. Or I'd throw out my trach tube and that machine would squall. I thought that something was going to blow up. I'd see the surgical drains in my chest and think that someone had put a bomb there, and I'd start to pull them out. They'd strap my hands down to the bed rails.

Then the psychosis would get worse. I'd pass out. When you're like that you don't know where you are and sounds trigger more than anything else. Lots of nurses were Filipino, and Tagalog is unmistakable. I'd think I was in the Philippines. Once I thought I was in the back of a bar, strapped into a barber chair (too heave to move; I was tied down), and a column of ants was marching toward me. I'd try to yell but couldn't--trach--and then I'd try to move, but couldn't, and the ants would crawl up my ass. I suppose someone was getting a stool sample. This was terrifying. Pass out, and it starts over.

Then you get to learn to breathe again, sit up again, walk again, use your fingers again. It's obvious I learned how to do that because I've been slagging moonbats ever since.

Not that horrible, Dr. Just something to get through. My life at the time was so grey and awful and grinding and terrible that in its way it was a welcome diversion.

But here is one thing that is <i>very</i> useful, to everyone I've heard.

When I was in psychosis or a coma, I didn't know where I was. Three years to the day after my mother died I was in the hospital. I had never forgiven myself for freaking out when she was dying, of sepsis, which nearly got me, as it happens. I was overcome with horror and left.

It didn't matter. She didn't know I was there. You have no sense of place. When you hear the voice of someone you love, you remember that person in a good situation, in the past. It's simply not needed to spend all your time at a deathbed. The sick person just has no idea of the severity of the problem--he's lost in his memories, swimming in and out of them.

Play the music that the person liked. Friends lent me tapes and a boom box--the Bach was great but the nurses loved "Rhapsody in Blue," which I am quite tired of.

Get a tape of the loved one's talking. Play it. Because when your mind isn't working you're afraid of unrecognized noises. But the family just doesn't have to be there at the moment of death for the dying person is lose in his own memories.

I was for years, may still be, the sickest person ever to survive in Odessa's Medical Center Hospital. My experience is unique insofar as the people there knew. But I can saw with assurance that dying is just not that bad.

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You were never in the hospital, Vlad. You were in one of the Chairman's secret information extraction centers located in an isolated jungle of the Philippines. I seem to recall him saying something about how difficult you were to break and how much gravy for the brain you required. He put Pupovich in charge of your treatment, which is why I think you still have a remaining mistrust of him.

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Dr. I <i>adore</i> Pupovich. In fact you cannot believe the party that I have planned for him, when next I can get him over, er, he accepts an invitation to the Rancho de Rio Grande.

And you ought to know Meow better than that by now. Meow is entirely too shiftless to engage in brain washing. I've seen him lose interest before cleaning out a safe. In some ways he's just as bad as Bruno. Bruno will sit for hours fascinated by a bit of shiny tin foil, and Meow can be stuffing his pockets full of OPM and see a nickel on the sidewalk and leap for it.

That's our Meow.

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That's just what Meow wants you to think. Well, that is with exception to when he gets totally shitfaced, which is more than 90% of the time.

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I've known Meow for years and I have never seen him when he wasn't shitfaced. In fact the only reason that I have any Waterford and Stuben left is that I pour Everclear into Bombay Sapphire gin bottles. When he's entirely out, I go through his pockets.

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:I've known Meow for years and I have never seen him when he wasn't shitfaced.

Which is, as I said, more than 90% of the time.
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Speaking of Meow, where has he gone? And for that matter where is Cradle to Grave Marxist? Have there been purges I didn't hear about in the State Media?

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Doctor, you know of course that the Esquimaux have over 100 words for snow. Over the years I have developed over 100 terms for Meow's dipsomania. Passed out cold. Passed out but really faking. Passed out but rousable by a noise.

Tipsy. Tipsy spilling drink. Tipsy slurring words. Tipsy with wandering eyes...

You get it.

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:Doctor, you know of course that the Esquimaux have over 100 words for snow. Over the years I have developed over 100 terms for Meow's dipsomania. Passed out cold. Passed out but really faking. Passed out but rousable by a noise.

Tipsy. Tipsy spilling drink. Tipsy slurring words. Tipsy with wandering eyes...

You get it.

Yes, Vlad. In fact, I'd say that is the very definition of Meow in his grand totality. That is, so long as you add in something about Hummels and venereal disease.

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Dr. Strangelove wrote:You were never in the hospital, Vlad. You were in one of the Chairman's secret information extraction centers located in an isolated jungle of the Philippines. I seem to recall him saying something about how difficult you were to break and how much gravy for the brain you required. He put Pupovich in charge of your treatment, which is why I think you still have a remaining mistrust of him.

Dr Strangelove....well, now the Pelosi has hit the fan! Up until now this had been a well kept secret, though I suspect the Commissar has been having some vague memories of this. Then again, perhaps it is time that the truth be known. After all, the treatment helped make the Commissar Theorcritus into the sterling progressive that he is today, well, that and his previous history.

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:And you ought to know Meow better than that by now. Meow is entirely too shiftless to engage in brain washing. I've seen him lose interest before cleaning out a safe. In some ways he's just as bad as Bruno. Bruno will sit for hours fascinated by a bit of shiny tin foil, and Meow can be stuffing his pockets full of OPM and see a nickel on the sidewalk and leap for it..

You are correct as usual Commissar..... which is why he left me to complete the treatment. Yes, I feel better now that the truth is out. You feel better now as well Commissar, if you only knew the shape you were in when you came into our care.

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<i>This is calumny!</i> I am Commissar Theocritus! I am what I was in the beginning. Time defines itself by changing around me! I am the progressive that I always was, and all of you other shiftless people go in and out.

I was not in treatment. I was never in treatment! No one changed me!

Bruno. Bruno! Where are my pills? I have a headache now. Where are my pills? You know, those pills that we found in the luggage which make me feel so good..

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Marshal Pupovich wrote:
Dr. Strangelove wrote:You were never in the hospital, Vlad. You were in one of the Chairman's secret information extraction centers located in an isolated jungle of the Philippines. I seem to recall him saying something about how difficult you were to break and how much gravy for the brain you required. He put Pupovich in charge of your treatment, which is why I think you still have a remaining mistrust of him.

Dr Strangelove....well, now the Pelosi has hit the fan! Up until now this had been a well kept secret, though I suspect the Commissar has been having some vague memories of this. Then again, perhaps it is time that the truth be known. After all, the treatment helped make the Commissar Theorcritus into the sterling progressive that he is today, well, that and his previous history.


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Pup, Do you want to tell Theo that he used to really be William F. Buckley, Jr. or shall I? Betty's temp Buckley clone was good, but it was SMO who really outdid herself with the faked Buckley death last year before the clone started to draw too much suspicion.

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:<i>This is calumny!</i> I am Commissar Theocritus! I am what I was in the beginning. Time defines itself by changing around me! I am the progressive that I always was, and all of you other shiftless people go in and out.

I was not in treatment. I was never in treatment! No one changed me!

Bruno. Bruno! Where are my pills? I have a headache now. Where are my pills? You know, those pills that we found in the luggage which make me feel so good..

Commissar, as Commissar of Mental Health, it is my duty, since the Peolsi hit the fan, to explain something to you. Remember when you were telling us about hallucinations and psychotic episodes when you had pneumonia? The facts are that these episodes are the result of the treatment that the Chairman ordered, but you have associated them falsely with your pneumonia. It is a disassociative memory, a post traumatic shock disorder if you will. See, the "brain drain" that the Chairman ordered, can be so.... so....horrifying, that it has been known to make some subjects, such as yourself, to associate these memories to a less frightening event in their life, such as a case of pneumonia in your particular case. It is better this way Commissar.

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Dr. Strangelove wrote:
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Pup, Do you want to tell Theo that he used to really be William F. Buckley, Jr. or shall I? Betty's temp Buckley clone was good, but it was SMO who really outdid herself with the faked Buckley death last year before the clone started to draw too much suspicion.

I will leave that to you Dr Strangelove. As everyone can see, Commissar Theocritus has always shown his intellectual side, using language and a knowledge of the arts that most Party members simply can not relate to, so it should not come as any shock to discover that our beloved Commissar was once the notorious arch conservative. Verily, it is a victory of Progress over imperialism.

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Uh, Commissar Comrade Theo, there's something I need to tell you. I just wanted to let you know that, uh... In no way were you ever William F. Buckley, Jr. in the past. After all, he died last year, so that's proof that you never could have been him. OK, I'm glad we had this little talk to clear things up and got that out of the way.


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Sorry, Pup. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I'm afraid it might be too much for any comrade, even the most made progressive after 10 JiffiLobos(TM), to mentally withstand.

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I am not and was not and will not be William F. Buckley, Jr! I am a <i>Progressive</i>! I'm nasty, larcenous, treacherous, supercilious, self-regarding--all in spades like a really good progressive. All those big words were just birdlime. Stolen birdlime, I might add. I stole Buckley's vocabulary. And Rex Stout's. That's how progressive I am.

I am so confused right now. Brain washing, the calumny of being called Buckley [ that anyone could rise to that level... ]

I have a most disturbing sense of anomie. Who am I? I think I'm going to think about it while I watch the Playboy channel...

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:I am not and was not and will not be William F. Buckley, Jr!

Yes! That's exactly what I was saying, so good. Then we're all in agreement here. Ah, I think I can hear Betty calling me. Well, if that's all, I'll be off now...

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Hello? Hello? Hello!? Is there anyone out there? The phones here don't work and I'm stuck in a house in the desert and there is this huge nut case dressed like a fruit stand but my lord he's 6' 4" tall and he keeps looking at me like he knows me. And I'm sure he doesn't.

I don't know me. I don't know where I am. What am I doing here?

And what's all this...gaudy shit...all over the place. And there are pictures of <i>men</i> on the walls.

And books. Lots of books. WTF? I can't find a single Bud or a game on the television, and this...thing..dressed like a fruit stand keeps singing show tunes!

God help me! I need rescue! Is there anyone out there?

Help me! Help me! I'm trapped in a loony bin! Help me!

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There now Commissar.... this is most distressing indeed. Of course you have never been William F Buckley. You have always been a progressive's progressive. It hurts me to hear you in such a state. Look around Commissar, I am sure there must be at least one Hummel around that still contains the smell of the Empress' nether regions, Sniff it deeply....and repeat to yourself...
There is no place like the Collective...
There is no place like the Collective...
There is no place like the Collective....
except perhaps the NY Times newsroom, or Washington.

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You're right, Pupovich. I do feel better. I walked into the living room and saw the imprint of the ass of our Many Titted Empress when she fell, drunk <i>as usual</i> on virgin's blood. I knew it was the Empress because it was in flagstone and I recognized the stippling in her ass. Now that in and of itself may send me into analysis for the rest of my life.

No, there is no place like the collective. I'll click my ruby-red slippers and go home to the collective.

Hey! I'm home!

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It is good to have you back Commissar, ready for more pusillanimous progressive party deeds and the impaling you do so well.

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Thank you, Pupovich. I just finished sharpening the stakes in the north forty.

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Speaking of Buckley, here's <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/26/maga ... -t.html">a very nice piece</a> on his parents by Christopher Buckley.

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I denounce Pupovich, <b>again</b>. Owing to the arial-bombardment skills of his talent-shitting pigeons I am having to have a new garage door installed. And until that's done <i>I'm having to park on the street!</i>.

This just won't do. A high-ranking Commissar like me, parking on the street like a mere prole? That's like Nero leaving his sedan chair out overnight on the Appian Way.

Pupovich, Miss Resentment and her pink, sparkly-toed French tennis shoes are coming over to your dacha to do clog dancing.

And you won't like it.

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Comrade Theo, I can understand your pain. In fact I have a similar problem, although as far as I know they don't come from Pupovich. Seagulls. Ever see the mess ONE seagull can make when they drop one on your boat? It's disgusting. They fly over, and all of a sudden there is a nasty splatter, and a horrible mess, worse than any four or five pigeons. Of course you cannot purge them, there are still unprogressive laws on the books stopping that. The most you can do is angrily wave a People's Rifle at them while using the squeegee bayonet to clean up their mess.

I'll gladly trade you my Capitalist Seagulls for your Talent Shitting Pigeons.

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Colonel, I realize that bird shit. That's what they do. As I recall, the Middle English word for crane was "shytepoke," or shit-bag. But although the neighborhood has birds, the only bird shit that I ever see is on my garage door. And since there's nothing for them to perch on, it has to be an attack of Pupovich's talent-shitting pigeons.

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What if Pupovich crossed birds with monkeys? They sneak up and fling their genetically altered shit at your doors and then scamper off? So while you are looking for birds you ignore the monkeys.

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Colonel 7.62 wrote:What if Pupovich crossed birds with monkeys? They sneak up and fling their genetically altered shit at your doors and then scamper off? So while you are looking for birds you ignore the monkeys.

I DENOUNCE COMRADE COLONEL 7.62 FOR REVEALING (ALLEGED) STATE SECRETS!

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Marshal Pupovich, a shipment of these monkeys was delivered to my command tent at the Revolutionary Guard with my name clearly on it. No mention was made of State Secrets, although there was a message written in glitter on the crate that said "Screw Pupovich"!

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7.62, I denounce you for revealing the top-secret pigeon-monkey talent-shitting cross. The working name is the Schumer.
Image The Schumer which graced my garage door with shit had indeed fouled his hand and thrown it. He's still in training for public office though; we're getting the training time down using only the best Pavlovian conditioning. This one had not been suit trained. That's the first step toward shitting on people using law-making.

Notice how rapidly Al Franken went from shitting camera monkey to Senator.

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I denounce who ever sent me the Schumers because they never bothered to tell me they were a State Secret (Pat. Pending).

Also I I denounce who ever told me that BBQ Schumer tasted like chicken.

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Colonel, all the barbecued Schumer that I've had tasted not like chicken but like rat.

Remember Pupovoch's fried rat on a stick? He would have called it fried Schumer on a stick except for copyright problems.

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Don't forget about the Pelosis that Betty has been working on in addition to the Shumers and Frankenmonkeys.

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Colonel 7.62 wrote:Marshal Pupovich, a shipment of these monkeys was delivered to my command tent at the Revolutionary Guard with my name clearly on it. No mention was made of State Secrets, although there was a message written in glitter on the crate that said "Screw Pupovich"!

So Comrade Colonel, you compound your guilt with ThoughtCrime™? You would have us believe that someone else had tagged this crate with counter-revolutionary graffiti? You compound your crime with failing to notify the proper authorities of this transgression in a timely fashion and failed to produce even a trifle of suspects to be interrogated?

I DENOUNCE COLONEL 7.62!

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:Colonel, all the barbecued Schumer that I've had tasted not like chicken but like rat.

Remember Pupovoch's fried rat on a stick? He would have called it fried Schumer on a stick except for copyright problems.

Whoa there Commissar Theocritus..... please do not say this is "Pupovich's fried rat on a stick!" The Chairman would be most unhappy if he were to decide that I had somehow infringed on his brand.

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If we are to keep truth in advertising and avoid the DTPA with the treble damages for deception, then we would have to say that fried Schumer is meant to taste like fried rat on a stick.

This is like someone selling a patent nostrum, "Formulated to support bone health." Which of course says nothing but is good birdlime for gullible proles.

Fried Schumer. Made to be as lip-sealing, lip-smacking, and umm-umm good as Fried Rat on a Stick dipped in People's Tasty Crème Dijonnaise.

BTW, do you think that His O'liness would have approved of PTC Dijonnaise on his hamburger?

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:BTW, do you think that His O'liness would have approved of PTC Dijonnaise on his hamburger?

But of course! It's already one among the many of Obama's Wealth Spread(TM) flavored spreads, along with Talented Pigeon Shit.

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Marshal Pupovich wrote:
Colonel 7.62 wrote:Marshal Pupovich, a shipment of these monkeys was delivered to my command tent at the Revolutionary Guard with my name clearly on it. No mention was made of State Secrets, although there was a message written in glitter on the crate that said "Screw Pupovich"!

So Comrade Colonel, you compound your guilt with ThoughtCrime™? You would have us believe that someone else had tagged this crate with counter-revolutionary graffiti? You compound your crime with failing to notify the proper authorities of this transgression in a timely fashion and failed to produce even a trifle of suspects to be interrogated?

I DENOUNCE COLONEL 7.62!

Marshal Pupovich, perhaps you misstate yourself there. This is a matter of Revolutionary Justice(TM) which is meted out by the Revolutionary Red Guard(TM). Therefore in that matter I am the proper authorities. I've already purged three NCO's and their squads. The one who delivered the crate to me, the one who let the delivery driver through, and the one who saw the crate as it was delivered to my command tent. Plus I purged the delivery driver, his dispatcher, and four or five other random people.

Also we exerted Revolutionary Justice(TM) on the package distribution center, resulting in among other things, the seizure of a large quantity of women's bloomers for The Revolution(TM).

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Colonel 7.62 wrote:Marshal Pupovich, perhaps you misstate yourself there. This is a matter of Revolutionary Justice(TM) which is meted out by the Revolutionary Red Guard(TM). Therefore in that matter I am the proper authorities. I've already purged three NCO's and their squads. The one who delivered the crate to me, the one who let the delivery driver through, and the one who saw the crate as it was delivered to my command tent. Plus I purged the delivery driver, his dispatcher, and four or five other random people.

Also we exerted Revolutionary Justice(TM) on the package distribution center, resulting in among other things, the seizure of a large quantity of women's bloomers for The Revolution(TM).

Marshal Pupovich mistaken?! I think somebody has forgetten that a Marshal outranks a Colonel. But, to show that there're no hard feelings, here is a coupon for a free stake at the Rancho del Rio Grande BBQ Grill Pits. You can order it sharp or extra sharp, and it won't matter either way: it will still be given to you dull. Just turn the coupon into Commissar Theocritus, and he'll take good care of you!

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I understand a Marshal outranks a Colonel. The question is, is he Marshal of the normal Red Army, or of the Revolutionary Red Guards? After all, as even Chairman Mao would acknowledge the Red Guards are a bit outside the usual chain, or ability to command. It's all the Revolutionary Fervor(TM) you know. And besides I denounce Pupovich for not showing proper Revolutionary Fervor(TM).

Also I plead the 5th(Inner Comrade(TM) ) that is. If needed. Between the Revolutionary Fervor(TM) and using the appropriate Inner Comrade(TM) I should be able to get away with nearly anything.

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Comrades! Comrades! Let us not get our panties in a wad over all this. Pupovich is always right, except when he's not. When he's right, one says, "Absolutely!" When he's not, you say, "Up to a point." Ask Evelyn Waugh about this. When I, on the other hand, think that he's overstepped himself, I plan a revenge attack on his digs in Louisiana. I have told Rosie O'Donnell that Pupovich has a really nice balcony for her to stand on, naked, when she's all sweaty in bed with Kelly. And I am sure that he'd enjoy it
Image Do not worry about my stake accommodations. I am very hospitable here. Just like the robes in a hotel room, my stakes fit all.

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Very well Comrade Commissar. Comrade Pupovich is absolutely right. Up to a point. I propose we work out the clear chain of command in this matter. Where does blind and destructive Revolutionary Fervor(TM) bow out to writing reports to Marshal Pupovich? It is much more fun to raid homes looking for capitalists and pulling down religious monuments (except the progressive ones of course) than to write long winded reports regarding crates full of bird poop shitting flying monkeys with insulting phrases written in glitter on them. (Oh, try a Schumer-On-A-Stick(TM) with the chipotle dipping sauce. Most equal.)

Doubtless in the excitment of a promotion and Revolutionary Fervor(TM) I have tried too hard and stepped on one or more of the good Marshal's paws. I will go purge some capitalists now to repent for my errors.

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Don't forget to say 100 Hail Anns in addition to the capitalist pigdog purging.

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Of course Comrade Doctor. What is great about my new job is that instead of digging beets For the Greater Good(TM) I now get to purge thoughtcriminals, also for The Greater Good(TM). Isn't it wonderful?

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Colonel 7.62 wrote:The question is, is he Marshal of the normal Red Army, or of the Revolutionary Red Guards? After all, as even Chairman Mao would acknowledge the Red Guards are a bit outside the usual chain, or ability to command.

The most elite of the special ops shock troops and guards is the Red Red Kroovy:™

That is why you never want to piss off the Chairman, and also why it is fortunate that he is shitfaced more than 90% of the time.

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Dr., Is it wise to suggest to less-equal comrades that the Chairman is shitfaced 90% of the time in the same thread as the talent-shitting Schumer pigeon-monkeys? I know Meow very well--I dote on Meow, especially when I've locked him into the cage with Our Many Titted Empress.

But even Meow has standards, hard to believe. Very hard to believe, I know, but in this alone you will have to have faith.

He would not want even the implication of having his face covered with Schumer Schit.


 
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