The infomercial that launched a thousand lip biters

Once upon a time I was down on my luck. I was a nobody in a somebody's world living off of the benevolent social safety net given to us by the most merciful LBJ. Yes, I am still living off that said social safety net, but more importantly I became a somebody -- more specifically, I became a somebody thanks to my good friend, former President Bill Clinton.

The year was 1985, comrades, and Ronald Reagan was busy destroying children, the elderly, and ethnic/sexual minorities through his reign of pure economic terror and AIDS (Reagan invented AIDS; look it up on the Google.) The whole world was on fire with the slow demise of the Soviet Union and the Mad Woman of England, Margaret Thatcher, kept the UK in a fascistic dictatorship -- even going so far as to privatize everything short of Grandma's dentures! That monster. Huh, I lost my train of thought at Mad Woman of England. Well, that's because she privatized the trains, that bitch! My train of thought was privatized!

Where was I? Oh yes, it was a bleak and tragic time, but even HOPE™ found a way -- HOPE™ always finds a way!

We needed a game changer back in '85, something that would set America straight on the glory and bounty that the Democratic Party had to offer. What we needed was an infomercial. What you heard was true, I was instrumental in producing, creating, and directing the legendary '85 infomericial that lead us to victory in '88 with the election of George H.W. Bush -- you remember him: that softer, gentler version of Ronald Reagan that raised everyone's taxes increased revenues™.

If it wasn't for this infomercial -- this expression of pure ideological art -- the election of the First Black President of the United States™ would have never happened; the moon landing would have never been possible; and Monica Lewinsky would have been just another porker intern working on Capitol Hill.

Enjoy this piece of Party history, comrades. Enjoy this glittering example of agitprop and learn from all it has to offer.




 

Those were the days my friend. Hope was alive and a gleam in every Progressive eye. It's just a shame that it took an additional 7 years for the Proletariat to come to their senses and elect Bill Clinton...sigh

Half Ass World of This Monday? Maybe Mundane Monday? Comrades, I have to say it, is your world better today? I think not. This administration has forgotten the very Comrades that worked for decades to bring about the Progressive World of Next Tuesday. I've read the evidence within these pages. Our Marshal is hawking his Poo Poo Meat. Father Prog is overrun with lizards. Commissarka Pinkie is still watching world news on only a 36" flat screen. Commodore Snoogie has been hitting the sauce (not the sauce you cook with). I've had to half the earnings of the NC Kollective's workers and...gasp...and turn off the chillers to the swimming pool. Have you any idea what it's like to swim in 98 degree water? For crying out loud, I'm down to only once a week for Maine lobster! I could go on and on, but I would fill the page.

Good Brothers and Sisters, this is a travesty. We, the Party Elite, are suffering. This is not the way the program works. Yes, the Proles need to give and give until it hurts, but not us. It's just not fair.


 

I proudly see these past and future party leaders and think Statue of Liberty torch MUST immediately be replaced by chandelier of many small, energy saving, equally dim mini-lights.
 

Boy! How in the world did Raygun ever fool most of the country into voting for him when these people were around and coming up with all sorts of good reasons for why we needed them?
 

We are missing the "bimbo eruption" representation to complete the Clintonian ethos.



 

We need to get back to those grassroots days like when the Bulger Brothers ran Massachusetts.
Btw Chairman, Whitey has received your cash bribe and you can count on his perpetual silence as long as these bribes remain perpetual.
 

ThePeoplesComrade

We are missing the "bimbo eruption" representation to complete the Clintonian ethos.
Comrade Peoples Comrade (but I repeat myself myself) - do you, like I myself, wonder what has happened to the lips and mouths of half of an entire generation? Could this be yet another example of evil rethugglikan action, hating women so much that they have somehow, in their dastardly ways, managed to warp all the young women's lips such as is seen in your gruesome example above?
 

Laika the Space Dog

We need to get back to those grassroots days like when the Bulger Brothers ran Massachusetts.
Btw Chairman, Whitey has received your cash bribe and you can count on his perpetual silence as long as these bribes remain perpetual.


We do, we really do, Laika. We need to get back to our Democrat grassroots and dump the effete netroots and all of their decadence. A lunch bag full of cash use to work wonders back in those days, comrades. We didn't have any of this Chris Christie crap. No sir, we had the Bulger Brothers keeping the proles in check.
 

Comrades, here in Texas we had Ma and Pa Ferguson--she was the first woman governor. I believe that her husband was a guest of the government for a while; but then after all, he did nothing that any good prog wouldn't have done. Unfortunately, the dim-witted Texans here redid our constitution reducing the power of the governor's office, making this less possible.

I ask you: what is the point of a government if it cannot be hijacked by the man at the top?

And thank you, dear Meow, for the link to Tom Brokedique. It's so good to know that he's still around. I hope that Commissarka Couric is too. Finally I could take no more of the Couric Head at the Rancho, and sent it back to be reunited with its body. I sent it out of the Rancho by a very slow courier, so as not to outrace the flies.
 

Meow, I have been considering your claim that you exist on the social safety net. My god, man, have you fallen that low? I claim the benefits too, as well as CRP payments and every other little bit of titty-licious goodness to come from Uncle Sugar. But I had truly hoped that you would have perfected your various little schemes of graft and corruption. You know, the penny-ante stuff that all good progs have in their genes and jeans.

What's happened, old friend? Your addiction to Hummels? I've never known you to pay for one. In fact I'm still waiting on you to return the ones that you, er, liberated when you were at the Rancho.

It hurts me, seasoned comrade, to see you so down on your luck.

I'll send Bruno over to console you.
 

Father Prog Theocritus

Meow, I have been considering your claim that you exist on the social safety net. My god, man, have you fallen that low? I claim the benefits too, as well as CRP payments and every other little bit of titty-licious goodness to come from Uncle Sugar. But I had truly hoped that you would have perfected your various little schemes of graft and corruption. You know, the penny-ante stuff that all good progs have in their genes and jeans.

What's happened, old friend? Your addiction to Hummels? I've never known you to pay for one. In fact I'm still waiting on you to return the ones that you, er, liberated when you were at the Rancho.

It hurts me, seasoned comrade, to see you so down on your luck.

I'll send Bruno over to console you.

My schemes are perfected, noble Theocritus. I am, after all, a Democrat's Democrat. My issue is greed -- the millions I make off of graft, kick-backs, and the occasional bilking of little old ladies just doesn't cut it for me these days. I mean, why settle for millions when I could have billions? Why settle for billions when I can have trillions? Why settle for any of the crumbs this world has to offer to begin with, Theocritus? Why am I not a god??

Money and power is simply not enough, Theocritus -- I need more. So, knowing that I am limited as a mere mortal, I became depressed. Utterly and miserably depressed. I stopped my schemes and my rackets, took to my bed, and began to sulk over how I don't have everything and everybody. I am having a life crisis, Theocritus.

I think I need to turn over a new leaf and do what men of my age do once they stepped on all the necks that could ever have been stepped on: I need to launch a Global Initiative.

Yes! Now that's the ticket! I need to go global. I need one large charitable foundation -- named after myself, of course -- that will feed my sense of self-importance and megalomania all the while bilking other like-minded rich megalomaniacs. YES! I can see swanky whore-laden conferences in Switzerland! I can see a mishmash of the world's most powerful people -- media, academia, politics -- all feeding on each other's self-importance! Oh what a glorious idea, Theocritus! What a wondrous idea full of opportunity and self-satisfaction for ME, ME, and more ME!

I shall call it... the Punchenko Global Initiative!
 

Meow, I do like your Punchenko Global Initiative. It sounds very sincere, and very proggish. And therefore can be used as a cover for everything from laundering money from underage whores to destabilizing the United States of America. And the two are really the same thing, aren't they?

And I do understand the agony of having all the money that you need to spend on yourself. After all, look at the Holy Gore: he does good work while never stinting himself. But it's hollow, isn't it, when the world doesn't acknowledge one's complete stupendous magnificence.

I hereby declare you Punchenko Agonistes. You can have Gucci design you a special sackcloth-and-ashes couture look, which will be so fetching at Bali or Davos.

Have you thought of your transportation? If I were you, I'd get rid of your Zhiguli and drive a Toyota Pious. Of course rip out that electrical crap and drop in a real engine. That way you can seem to be pious but can get away in a hurry when your petty thefts are discovered. I can see you stepping into the shoes of the Holy Gore, Meow: you have the right condescension, scruples, or lack thereof, and arrogance.

There is only one problem, though, Meow: I have seen signs of lucubration in you that I've not see in the Holy Gore. Report to Jiffy-Lobo instanter.
 

R.O.C.K. in the USSA

Could this be yet another example of evil rethugglikan action, hating women so much that they have somehow, in their dastardly ways, managed to warp all the young women's lips such as is seen in your gruesome example above?
We are striving for full employment by keeping our cosmetic surgeon comrades as busy as possible.
 

ThePeoplesComrade

R.O.C.K. in the USSA

Could this be yet another example of evil rethugglikan action, hating women so much that they have somehow, in their dastardly ways, managed to warp all the young women's lips such as is seen in your gruesome example above?
We are striving for full employment by keeping our cosmetic surgeon comrades as busy as possible.
Ah! Now I am understanding! And with Obamacare, the lip/mouth Puckery Surgery™ costs these young women nothing!

I am particularly excited now as I contemplate the intersection of THIS noble cause with that of Operations Gunrunner and Fast & Furious - hordes of young Hispanic™ post-surgery women, all with puckered smiles, and all armed to the "teeth" (which you, of course, can no longer see) by American Stimulus Dollars™!!!

The wisdom of Dear Leader is impeccably brilliant.
 

ROCK, personally I think that Fast and Furious was badly bungled. The guns were supposed to be planted on white RethuglikKKans, to incriminate them and work up hysteria. That way we could have our dear Many Titted Empress engage in gun-grabbing, as she wanted to do as part of Hillarycare.

The point is not the guns. The point is of course making sure that honest Americans are disarmed, the thugs aren't, and only the storm trooper goons of BATF highly trained federal agents can intercede between the two.