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The Cowective Weeps: Comwhad Bonnie Fwank to Weetire

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Duty is its own reward. What must be done for the Party must be handled professionally; and I'm just the one to do it right.

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Ah, Pinkie, I have been thinking about What Might Have Been. Yes, pumping out the progs for the Cause of Socialism. But one question has not been answered. Are we actually live breeders? I don't know because by definition progs are parasitical. For all I know, we progs could be parasites just like in Alien, jumping out of John Hurt's chest.

And those teeth... One doesn't normally see two layers of teeth except of course for Redumdimski's shark's mouth.

And this bit about the lady or the tiger. Well, isn't this a false choice? We only like cute, pathetic little things like flyspecked children or newts or Concho Valley snakes which we can use as weapons. They exist because we will them to exist. Unlike fetuses.

It's the sentimentality that counts, you see, because sentimentality is ALWAYS self-referential. We love anything that is small and possibly cute and which, repeat after me, is no trouble to us but is trouble to someone else, and again repeat after me, which we can use to beat someone over the head with.

Because without our promoted hysteria, self-righteousness, hubris, and manufactured sense of mission we would be shown up for what we are, which is, well, second-rate people of no accomplishment except in working other people.


 
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