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New Year's Drunken Incident Sends Cube Into Wormhole

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As the entire People's Cube collective celebrated the New Year with extra rations of beet vodka, all wishing for a faster arrival of a better, centrally planned, state-subsidized, and more tractable future, our massively inebriated collective willpower somehow opened a wormhole in the temporal reality. At the same time, as we clanked our tin cups, some vodka spilled into the server's Motherboard and started a reaction that rearranged zeros and ones in the Mother Code, linking it to the People's Cube database as it will exist in the year 2100 instead of 2010 2011. The result is a direct RSS newsfeed from the future. This is a Mother Page from the People's Cube as it will exist in the year 2100 instead of 2010 2011.

We hope to bring the old site back soon, although anachronistic glitches may occur. Our engineers are working selflessly to block the unauthorized RSS syndication. To make their sacrifice worthwhile, we are keeping their families locked up with no food or water in a storage closet. As a result of this joint effort, most of our old website has already been recovered.

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The old Mother Page can be found here.We have also established a sketchy email exchange with the future People's Cube editorial staff. Unfortunately, not all of our future editors are literate, but at least they have enviable self-esteem. The language itself seems to have changed. In the future, emails are called Emessages, as all words signifying gender, or even sounding as if they might (i.e. mail sounds like male), will be expunged. To make the news feed from the future understandable to readers in 2010 2011, we substituted such terms with more recognizable, soon-to-become-obsolete words in brackets.

For inquiries of how this may affect the existing redistribution of moments, intervals, and infinity to which you may feel entitled, please contact:

Colonel 7.62, Commissar of Time™
Temporal Counterproliferation Unit
Department of Chronological Warfare
Control and Measurement of the Past, Present & Future

If that fails to satisfy your curiosity, feel free to escalate the issue to:

Acting Commissarka of Housekeeping,
Disappearances, Composting,
Dissection, and Limo Service

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Ahh those wormholes can be problematic. Just the other day one opened up in the communal outhouse and dumped a load of sh*t into the past. Much to my surprise I saw a picture of it in the history books being elected a governor of California. But I digress. Now that we are in touch with the Glorious World of Next Tuesday(TM), it is Hoped(TM) we can Change(TM) a few things faster. We can now find out who might oppose final changes to ObamaCare(TM) for instance and purge them. Or place bets on sporting events, and use the money to fund Obama's campaign to repeal presidential term limits. The possibilities are without end!

Meanwhile Comrades who are affected by this perfectly normal drunken wormhole link into The Future(TM) may file a grievance with their local Commissar. Afterwards you may pay a small filing fee for the bullet used to redistribute your remaining moments on earth. A second fee will go to the acting Commissarka of Housekeeping to ensure your corpse is properly composted for the Greater Good(TM) of The Environment(TM).

As we are still studying the effects of this perfectly normal wormhole, and the perfectly normal side effects (such as nausea, vomiting, headache, death, missing limbs, family members or pets, and extra long terms in the Gulag) please be patient, and remember that The Party(TM) has all your best interests at heart.

Preemptive imprisonment in the Gulag may result for crimes against The Party(TM) that have yet to be committed.

Thank you, and have a Nice Day!

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I thought the bed-spins were particularly vicious this year. This explains it.

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Whew,

It could have been worse! Just think. We could have been sent back in time to the era of the Bushitler era. THE HORROR! When unemployment was as low as 1.8% in places like Houston, TX, even after absorbing 100,000 victims of the evil Kapitalist caused Katrina hurricane. Being propelled to 2100 is heaven compared to that!

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Dear Leader's People's Penicillin worked Marxist medical wonders with my last case of the wormholes.

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Well, crud. I knew I shouldn't have mixed that last bottle of Putinka with that last bottle of Obama's snake oil that Betinov sold me at such a ridiculous discount because of the mustache side effect.

Comrades, I must warn you of the dangers here, chiefly the dangers of running into our future selves. Not long after I woke up this morning, I ran into someone who looked just like me--red headscarf, shovel in hand, vodka bottle in the other--only the Pinkie I saw before me was hunched over, with huge bags under her eyes of Bolshevik red, stringy gray hair hanging out of her headscarf, and deep red wrinkles all over her face. She looked just like me, as I might look 90 years from now when I will be--how old? My current age + 90 = 112 years old.

I screamed. So did she.

I swung my shovel at her. So did she.

There came a loud crash as she shattered into pieces like prisms that caught the blinding light. Years of watching Hollywood movies told me in that split second that I'd brought on a paradox, and now I had to figure out a way to travel even farther into the future to escape the consequences.

Then I realized all I'd done was break the bathroom mirror. And these wrinkles on my face? They come from spending all night lying face down on Bruno's old chenille bedspread. At least I hope that's what they're from, and that they'll fade by this evening.

In the meantime, what about shovels in the year 2100? Would a shovel-wielding Commissarka of the Future have the same kind of shovel I wield now, or would it be a virtual shovel, a hologram of one that makes all sorts of laser-like Space Invader noises with every whack?

Or do I just stand there like Captain Picard and say, "Computer, shovel-whack Colonel 7.62. Maximum firepower!"

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Pinkie brings up a good point regarding the paradoxes of time travel.

If my present self reads a comment posted by my future self and becomes enraged by the fool's idiotic statement thereby causing my present self's heart to attack, will Obamacare pick up the tab?

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Image Fortunately for me they didn't take away my slingshot.
I may be needing a wormhole in the future.

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Comrades, comrades. Please. Relax. The glories of ObamaCare have taken care of Paradox as well. Col. 7.62's Anti Paradox and Hemorrhoid Cream(TM) is just the ticket. Apply liberally to affected areas, and pesky paradoxes will vanish.

Meanwhile Pinkie's attempt at being so lazy she requires a computer to whack people with a shovel has not gone unnoticed. While I'm sure she is entitled to have a machine do her work, I believe I'm entitled to be whacked by a real human. On top of that, there is some fascinating research in 2100 about anti shovel shields being developed for me...

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Comrades I thought The People's Science Directorate determined that time travel is not possible.

(This ain't happenin' man)

And for some reason, in this new relativistic existentialism, I don't seem to be around anymore. Perhaps the result of some grievous oversight by the ObamaCare death panel?

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At Peoples' Cube the future is known. It's the past that's ever-changing.

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I denounce Comrade Whoopie for not only failing to notice the very existence of my department (which clearly involves being able to travel through time) but also questioning anything The Party has said recently regarding time travel.

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This is a worrying development.

*hic*

I thought true progressivism could only come from the past.

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Pass the bottle around and look who shows up.
Greetings Vodkov. How was Kolyma? Who did you bribe this time?

At Peoples' Cube the future is known. It's the past that's ever-changing.
Come gather 'round commies wherever your grow
admit that the future is the place we will go.


La de da da da changing.
Hmm Hmm Hmmmm...how does the rest of that song go?
I know this tune. It was very popular back in 2010.

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I'm guessing this is a future Vodkov who finally finished his reeducation sentence, and came back to 2010 to engage in more mischief.

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Comardes,

In 2100 were we successful in determining the whereabouts of one Chairman Meowsevich S. Punchenko?

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What a glorious difference 90 years makes! For example, think of my EcoTractor™ . Ninety years ago it looked like this...

Tractor.jpg

But thanks to 90 years of socialist progress, my Utopian era tractor now looks like this!

Tractor.jpg

Where are the skeptics now!? Present and denounce yourselves! You who doubted that state run education would make children better informed, thinking citizens! You who doubted that state run health care would provide the best care for all! You who claimed that state run retirement plans would be inferior to private, free market retirement plans! Show yourselves! If. You. Dare.

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And there were happy moments, too.

Here is the in vitro grandson of Colonel 7.62 marrying the granddaughter of Red Square. Really, it was considered an old fashioned gimmicky ceremony by that time.

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Wait a minute. I have a grandson? Which means I had children? I wonder what drunken, Party Approved(TM) party this happened at? And who the mother was?

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Who was the mother? It was quite scandalous, actually. You had an affair with my sister, the wrinkled one who lives in Montana, but is a good sturdy worker, who was already living with another spousal unit, but it ended happily, when she left him, to live with you.

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Ahh I feared it was a "turkey baster" style incident where two Prog Wymyn wanted a child, but did not want a man involved with it. The problem is, I'm pretty sure as Commissar of Time I could have a spousal unit that wasn't wrinkled and still a good worker. Please tell me I wasn't on ObamaCare issued painkillers that clouded my mind while I was waiting for an optional procedure to put a cast on a broken leg?

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No, you actually fell for her, wrinkles be damned, and she never got sea sick, which was a plus.

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Дамы и господа,
Я не понимаю!

Image пить, на здоровье, я больше не буду пить!

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Colonel 7.62 wrote:Comrades, comrades. Please. Relax. The glories of ObamaCare have taken care of Paradox as well. Col. 7.62's Anti Paradox and Hemorrhoid Cream(TM) is just the ticket. Apply liberally to affected areas, and pesky paradoxes will vanish.

Meanwhile Pinkie's attempt at being so lazy she requires a computer to whack people with a shovel has not gone unnoticed. While I'm sure she is entitled to have a machine do her work, I believe I'm entitled to be whacked by a real human. On top of that, there is some fascinating research in 2100 about anti shovel shields being developed for me...

Really Colonel,

I'm suprised that you would actually relish a whack on the head by our as-always-lovely, Commissarka Pinkie!
And she is far from lazy, comrade....why she works her miracles on the proles of our glorious collective with such aplomb that one would have to say she is "gifted with foresight as well as hindsight",(and she does have eyes in the back of her head....so look out), thus making her absolutely impervious to the wild fluctuations of the past or future of the World of Next Tuesday(tm) I would tread softly if I were you, Colonel......LOL

Commissarka, How ya doin' my proud crimson belle?

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I don't relish a whack on the head from Pinkie, but if she is going to do it, I demand the real deal, not a machine damnit!

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Oh, baloney. Scroll back and read what I wrote, Timeboy. I never said I want a machine or a computer or a virtual holoshovel (though I am intrigued by the idea of doing it with a Wii)--I merely asked if there'd be such things in 2100. You see, Yelling Yelena used to tell me I could be replaced by a computer, so naturally I'm concerned.

But I can't help thinking you do want a good old-fashioned shovel-whacking, Colonel. The question is why? Is this some roundabout reverse-psychowacko plot to suck up to me and perhaps even get Beet of the Week out of me?

Or do you just have a crush on me, in which case you'll do anything to make me notice you, even if it means getting shovel-whacked?

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No. I simply have standards. And one of those standards involves being whacked by a real shovel if it is to happen. To be whacked is insulting enough. To be whacked by a holo shovel is simply degrading.

I am in a drunken process to try and open more wormholes and see if I can find a future where you are replaced by a computer. Many comrades are secretly funding this endeavor in order to spare their poor cracked heads anymore abuse.

Unfortunately the last three wormholes opened have gone to the Bushitler era, the far future where earth is covered in ice, and the few surviving groups of people have a religion with a demon figure called AlGohr, and one that just opened up into my bathroom. Although I have to admit standing up, and peeing into a wormhole is much easier than getting up and walking to the bathroom.

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Komissar Blogunov wrote:Image
Say, that's a pretty nice tractor you got there, Blogunov. A little Fabreze on that and you got yourself a crib! How much you want for that little number anyway?

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Being a loyal consumer of comradick vodka, I salute you all and the new year, but I shall miss the old mother-dubber page.

Wormholes? Doesn't our grandiose leader, comrade Obama, have a cure for that in his bloated bill?

My NEW crib! I hope it doesn't cause envy from fellow comrade's or angst from
from the minions. That would be truly distressing . . .

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Fraulein, I am so envious of your new home. What a fine dacha. And the best part is that if Commissarka Pinkie whacks any of it with her shovel, you won't be able to tell the difference. It's like the time that Pinkie, drunk entirely on Putinka, whacked Nanski Peloski in the face and no one could tell the difference. In fact her surprised look didn't even change, although overnight some stitched did give out in Nanski's face and she had three boobs.

Pinkie, I had wondered where Bruno's chenille bedspread had gone to. That's the purple one with the sparkly bits, isn't it? That's a homing bedspread too. I cannot tell you the number of times that I've tossed it out only to have it reappear.

If you like it, please keep it. With my compliments. And it comes with Bruno too.

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My dear comrade Commissar

Huge gravitas dankes! I am pleasured . . . errr, pleeeased you find visual enjoy from my new digs. Please note, it's as cozy as it appears. If you travel to Dumpskies R Us, you too can pleasure yourself with equally enjoyable accommodations. There were 2 left after New Years. . . one not nearly as "cozy" as the other though . . . so rush.

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I do wonder, however, Fraulein, where your hammer and sickle are. You know, the sickle cutting a dollar sign in two. We need to pay homage to Nanski Peloski and honor her destruction of American wealth.

I really must rush to get one of those. It would look so good on the south forty with the impaling stakes. Wouldn't it be great for a tailgating party?

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Ah ha! And I love to gate tails, party or no! (as long as it's not Nanski's tail).

My ham and sic are being polished and primed! Ready for our Comrade Great Leader Obamski, to send me to the field to gather conservative heads . . . . to gather food for our leaders! (don't you hate it, when you speak out of turn and say things you don't want the Great One to SEE).

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Citizen's

The mere mention mention of "wormholes" brought me back to 2008, when political scientists discovered that "Progressive A-holes" were a danger to the planet! Thank goodness for Al Gore, who alerted us to this fact!


Publius

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Heil our glorious, magnificent Algore Al Goreski!

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Fraulein, I must take you to task. That's not <i>nearly</i> enough money for the Holy Gore. Why, that won't take care of the landing fee for the private jets that he's used to. And all those limousines which must be kept running while he speaks?

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Call me a wrecker, a scoundrel, a no good rabid hound, just don't call me late to dinner....but I can't help but wonder comrades...just what is this non-sense about mixing up the 0 and 1's in the PeoplesCode causing a problem? After all, we have proven with PeopleMath™ that all numbers are equal. Surely there must be another cause for this temporal anomaly? This may also explain how some rethuglican scoundrel can somehow take the seat that belongs rightfully to Sen Ted "The Swimmer" Kennedy? Clearly this was some temporal whirlpool that allowed this seat to slip from our collective hand?

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Marshal Pupovich wrote:Call me a wrecker, a scoundrel, a no good rabid hound, just don't call me late to dinner....but I can't help but wonder comrades...just what is this non-sense about mixing up the 0 and 1's in the PeoplesCode causing a problem? After all, we have proven with PeopleMath™ that all numbers are equal. Surely there must be another cause for this temporal anomaly? This may also explain how some rethuglican scoundrel can somehow take the seat that belongs rightfully to Sen Ted "The Swimmer" Kennedy? Clearly this was some temporal whirlpool that allowed this seat to slip from our collective hand?



No comrade! It's Bush's fault!!!

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Pupovich, you are right. Since we have proven that all numbers are equal, there is no reason that the election should not have been a proper one.

Also since 7.62 is the Commissar of Time, he ought to be able to to back in time and make sure that the proper people voted. Or that the improper people didn't. For example, we should have had more SEIU goons "helping" people vote.

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The problem with space and time is that it is infinite. And while manipulating space and time to ensure we have the proper Glorious World of Next Tuesday, sometimes errors are made, and timelines from other worlds pop up into this one.

The Glorious and Heroic thing though, is once the error is undone, nobody will know it happened. You only *think* Brown was elected. And that is not a Party Approved(TM) thought. Therefore, anyone who thinks Coakley lost, is a thought criminal. Meanwhile you can rest assured that The Office of the Department of The Commissar of Time is working day and night to correct any errors that might pop up in the Space/Time Continuum. Thank you for your patronage, every third prole in this room will be shot, and the remainder given a Jiffi Lobo(TM) and sent to Gulag for an extra week.

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7.62, I am as I write constructing extra Jiffi-Lobos. In fact I'm putting one in every WalMart. Large cities have assembly-line Jiffi-Lobos. The comrade who is suffering from cognitive dissonance goes in and a smiling comradette helps him strip and put on a diaper and a hospital gown.

He's sitting in a chair on a conveyor belt. He goes to the next station, which washes his head with antiseptic soap. Can't get an infection you know.

The conveyor belt then goes to the next station, where our surgeons, trained in the Mengele School of Health and Public Policy, perform the actual lobotomy. Each surgeon has an operating room assistant who is responsible for the autoclave for the knives and other things. The surgeon lifts up the eyelid and inserts the knife, and then swishes around for a while.

If the comrade has been having some serious Thoughtcrime(tm), then he signs up for the Cut and DNC. This is more complicated. The assistant shaves the patient's head, and the surgeon drills a hole with a bone saw into the frontal lobes.

The surgeon then takes a sterilized inside-the-egg scrambler, and goes back and forth, back and forth, and how long depends on the level of Thoughtcrime(tm). If the patient has merely wondered if President Awesome can walk on water, the eyelid surgery will do. If the patient has wondered if socialism can possibly work, then the doctor will do the Cut and DNC. The brain is scrambled for 30 seconds.

If the patient has smiled at a picture of Ronald Reagan, then the brain is scrambled for 15 minutes.

The surgeon then inserts a small vacuum hose and sucks out the scrambled brain, which will be treated as toxic waste. At one time we tried to make it into a sauce for fried rat on a stick, but the thoughts in the excised brain were contagious and so we had to start flash-burning it.

Finally, after closing the wound, the patient's conveyor belt takes him to the departure station. Two large orderlies help him out of his chair, because he will have lost motor control. If he has fouled his diaper owing to incontinence, it is changed.

Then the orderlies help him get into the car of the person who brought him to Jiffi-Lobo.

This is the way that we have happy, healthy, unquestioning progs.

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Red Square wrote:We hope to bring the old site back soon, although anachronistic glitches may occur....
Comrade Red Square, if you comrades had given me the admin password to this website back when I told you to, you wouldn't have to put up with all this.

Oh well, I told you. If your engineers can fix it, let me know, I'll take em out for to lunch.

Next time, you pay attention to me.

"His Excellency President for Life, Field Marshal Al Hadji Doctor Idi Amin, VC, DSO, MC, Lord of All the Beasts of the Earth and Fishes of the Sea, and Conqueror of the British Empire in Africa in General and Uganda in Particular."

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Comrade Pinkie, please talk more of shovels and whacking! I will pay you with beet and vodka rations not to stop! I have "friends" who like this also.

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Comrade ProleReady,

We'll caution you here ONCE, SHE has the shovel, NOT your shovel comrade -- HER SHOVEL! So be careful what you ask for thoughtcriminal, you just might get it!


Image Welcome to The Cube

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Most infinate protector of the Peoples Equality....I accept your warm welcome to the struggle which will see no end! I'ts just that I work in a shovel plant ( an indispensable industry here in the Utopia which we call THE CUBE.) I have a vast collection of shovels and after being raised on a farm where we grew shovels from seeds given to us by the state. I was hoping that Most Elevated Exellancy RR might appreciate my thoughtcrimes from a different perspective.

Do you know if Pinky has "strong" arms?

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Pinkie has very strong arms--I have several creases in my skull which prove it. Do NOT let that woman get behind you with her shovel. You'll regret it.

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She can really "shovel" out the corrective action any Thoughtcriminal™ requires.

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COMRADES!

Why didn't any of you tell me I had a new admirer? (As if I didn't know why!)

ShovelReady, come forward! You may well be the one I've been waiting for ever since I came to the Cube.

I see you have abs of steel. Smooth, broad, strong, powerful. How they glisten and gleam in the moonlight. I'd love to stroke my fingers across them, and mark them with my prints . . . maybe put my lips right up to the silver expanse of your rock hard pecs and admire my reflection for a heartbeat before I breathe on it, leaving clouds that shrink and evaporate before my eyes . . . but I fancy I won't see anything else shrink, will I?

Tell me, do you enjoy digging long ditches on the beach at sunset? Cozy evenings at home raising awareness in front of a roaring fire?

Ah, that round, smooth, shiny dome that is your head. You know what they say about male comrades with THAT attribute, don't you?

Many a comrade, such as Zampolit or Theocritus, have invited me up to their dachas to show me their collection of shovels. I've been disappointed every time, and they all have the shovel-shaped dents in their heads to prove it.

Would you like me to whack that hard, domed head of yours?

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Pinkie. Pinkie. Pinkie. I so didn't want to tell you this but those shovels that I showed you weren't my A list shovels. I love you dearly, <i>ma petite socialiste</i>. but this Made Prog knows enough to start his offers low. Who knows? Something might come from it.

And I prefer to think that that compression on my skull, left by your shovel, was accidental, and that you were aiming, with one eye closed, at Bruno. Who had doing Ethel Merman, which on consideration, is the very worst of the things that he does.

If I weren't inured, I myself would have grabbed your shovel and taken after Bruno when he started holding out his arms and belting out, "Every...thing's...coming...up...roses..."

Come back and you can look at my A-list shovels.

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Pinkie, darling!

You know full well that I mentor a fine group of Young Pioneers. And you know full well that I allow my young proteges' to make use of my collection of shovels for training purposes, all while I read to them from the Communist Manifesto.

Rest assured that I have taught my younglings well on the proper cleaning and care of a shovel. They will grow up to be fine young Democrats, make no mistake.

Now that they have thoroughly polished each shovel, I invite you visit my dacha once again so that I may "show off" my prized collection. Look on the bright side... at least you will not have to endure Bruno performing a number from La Cage Au Follies, basso profundo.

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She liked it! She liked it! She <i>told</i> that she liked it.

Just before she passed out.

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Commisarka Pinke, I have admired you from the shadows of the wormhole that brought me here to THE CUBE for over 200 years.
I am fast learning the ways of the Commisars, directors, overlords, chairmen, and party bosses who populate these pages. They start to grunt like pigs when a prole like me can get your slightest attention!....(OOHHH Pinkie..come back and check my shovel...etc...) What I'm hearing from you is "Shovel nothin hunny, you had your chance!"
These are emotionally stunted and cretinous frauds. Drinking vodka to extreme excess is their only redeaming factor. Oh. I forgot, ..they love their mothers..at least thats what their files from CENTRAL BUREAU say.
However being a Prolebot of the First order of Stalin...I will refrain from naming names. (unless provoked!!)

I think you should be progressive in the matter. Move forward..shovel in hand...meeting all obstacles with a mighty swat.

As for me Pinkie,...I must return to the vast eternity of toil for our collective salvation...My shovel will never cease!
ps..Want to go to Palm Springs next weekend?

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Ah, ShovelReady. Welcome to the Kollective.

The party does not countenance blatant liaisons between party members; this leads to maudlin sentimentality. Sex is ordained by how best to help the state.

And it has be determined by high-ranking party officials, well, by me, who am a high-ranking party official, and in fact the rankest, that your genes would be most beneficial when commingled with those of this faithful party stalwart:
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If you wish you may shave her back, but it will have to be in cold water to reduce your carbon footprint. If you want to shave her feet, to reduce her footprint, you'll have to buy carbon credits.

No, no, no, dear Comrade. No reason to thank me. I'm just doing my part as the rankest party member.

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Indeed! Welcome to the Kollective, Comrade ShovelReady!

Let me assure you that if a member of The Party™ was partaking a little too much vodka it is no big deal! As made progressives we can do as we damned well please. That's the beauty of being a progressive. Ask any member of the Kennedy family.

However, if you did see a member of The Party™ on a vodka induced bender... it was probably our beloved Chairman Meow. It's okay to feed him vodka that is Party Approved™. Just remember to keep tequila and single malt scotch away from him or there could be ... uh ... problems. Trust me. I know what I'm talking about here.

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ShovelReady wrote: These are emotionally stunted and cretinous frauds. Drinking vodka to extreme excess is their only redeaming factor. Oh. I forgot, ..they love their mothers..at least thats what their files from CENTRAL BUREAU say.

They are indeed emotionally stunted and cretinous, ShovelReady. And frauds. However, drinking vodka to extreme excess is a quality I've always admired in a male comrade--that, and loving their mothers. I'm all for love. Now, LIVING with their mothers is another basket of beets entirely.

Of course, if they were the types who lived with their mothers, they wouldn't even know I exist, for what world do they know outside their mother's basement and the occasional Star Trek convention?

ps..Want to go to Palm Springs next weekend?

It gets awfully hot there, doesn't it? What if the desert sun heats up your steel? I won't be able to wrap myself around your hard body for fear I'll get badly burned.

And I've been burned by enough male comrades already--as you can see, Exhibits A, B, and C have already chimed in.

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Welcome to the Collective Shovel Ready! Be careful of Pinkie, she is a bit on the umm fickle side. And I have the dents in my head, helmet, and DeLorean to prove it. In fact I finally gave up, and decided she wasn't worth the dented skull, damaged gullwing doors, and cracked kevlar. You can distract her with chocolates, vodka, and obscure pattern shovels.

I keep a pocket full of vodka soaked chocolate covered beets in my pocket. When pinkie comes rampaging around the corner, I throw a few to distract her, and duck into another dimension. Where I usually find a trans dimensional pinkie waiting to whack me with a shovel. Oh, why oh why did I ever denounce her for the way she trimmed her mustache?

Anyway, again welcome to the Collective. Do you perhaps have any experience with repairing cars with large shovel shaped dents in them?

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7.62, I see that you too are ready to hew a tough line with Pinkie. Now no one admires and respects the esteemed Commissarka more than I do, not even Pinkie herself. In fact I don't think that Obama respects Obama more than I respect Pinkie. But I am getting tired of all this abuse.

I have <i>not</i> burned Pinkie. All I have wanted to do is to let her teach me the error of my ways. Is that too much for two Made Progs to help each other with?

Now I admit that once she did start to show me the error of my ways and then Bruno woke up, and that scene was like lifting the door into hell and taking a guided tour. Pinkie's damned good with that shovel--do you have any sense of how long it took her to develop that backhand?--but if properly provoked Bruno, even on size 14EE 6" stiletto heels, can fly into a towering rage which has the roaches fleeing the Rancho for the relative safety of the rattlesnake dens in the yard.

But then don't pay attention to me today. I was had popped popcorn and was watching, as usual, Keith Doberman on MoonbatSNBC and all of the sudden I had a strange thought. I thought that he was mean, nasty, vicious, misogynistic, not that bright, and the biggest asshole on earth, a loser, with 20% of O'Reilly's audience and growing smaller by the day.

So as soon as it opened I went to Jiffi-Lobo today to remove those unclean thoughts.

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The problem is, in 2023 Pinkie whacks me with her shovel in a most sensitive area, and thus ruined an evening with a most eligible femyle prog. I hold a grudge damnit. Even if it hasn't happened yet!

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Even if it hasn't happened yet?

Oh. I get it. This is like all the jobs that the Holy One will save.

It's like the Clintonistas saying that they'd transformed America the day after the election.

This is like me saying, "You'll get a check by the end of the week."

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Yup. As a good progressive, (and one with access to the space time continuum no less; wanna see what bruno will do next week?) I feel it is my duty to be properly aggrieved at things that have not yet happened. Pinkie whacked me in a sensitive location, banks will make profit, people will die from lack of medical care, someone will utter a racial slur, and poor people will suffer. Much better to focus on the future than the present. The present is too immediate. The future is something we can all rally against!

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I take your point. Let's rally against the future because it might not be as good as the past that we were denied by our gender, national origin, race, or sexual orientation. Or by being just a major dumb-ass jackass. That'll do it.

If you can see the future, then you can see what industries the Progressives will nationalize, and let me know to dump the stock first.

And thank you but I'm terrified of knowing what Bruno will be doing next week. I think that Bruno actually can be described as Brownian motion. Even he doesn't know what he'd going to do in the next five seconds. And next week? To him that's as far off as the Great Pyramid.

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Colonel 7.62 wrote:The problem is, in 2023 Pinkie whacks me with her shovel in a most sensitive area, and thus ruined an evening with a most eligible femyle prog. I hold a grudge damnit. Even if it hasn't happened yet!

That's not your only problem, Timeboy. I also do it to you in 2010.

WHACK!!!

Accuse me of having a mustache, will you? That was but an unfortunate side effect of Betinov's Obama snake oil.

How dare you try to scare ShovelReady off of me. Oh, let me rephrase that. How dare you scare him away.

BTW, Theocritus, my heart is bleeding after reading that article about Keith. I had no idea he was such a sad, lonely man. But when I read that he doesn't like attractive, successful women, I had an epiphany--that can only mean he likes women who are unattractive and unsuccessful.

As a good prog female, clearly I am neither--unless by success, one means that I always succeed in raising awareness about how much I care about the issues I make out of everything.

But I've been brooding over how pitiful Keith is, and thinking what he needs is the love of a woman like me. We have so much in common--like our hatred of Bush, and dwindling audiences.

Colonel. Colonel? Colonel, get up off your hands and knees, stop whimpering like a puppy, and stop clutching your guest soaps. I want you to check the wormholes to see if I could hope to have any kind of future with Keith Olbermann.

Just don't tell ShovelReady. He strikes me as the insanely jealous type.

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Comrades!..My welcome to the CUBE has been, shall I say a little too warm. I am wary of Made Progs.
You see..I am old..I was manufactured during Stalin's 1939 <F--k ..I mean "Free the People" five year plan...
Coming from the wrong side of the Urals and being a Prolebot ..well lets face it. I have a triple chip on my shoulder.
Of course I get "retooled" every 6 months so Pinkie should have no fear of "metal fatigue"..the stories I could tell her of raising "awareness" during the 60s'.! ...;oD

RR,7.62, Commisar Theocritis, Commisarka Pinkie, Zamploit and yes , even Bruno, I accept your welcome and your friendship. However, I will watch my back!..and not just for Pinkie's shovel!. That should be easily done as I can rotate my neck 360 degrees. ...my ability to do this is something Pinkie should also condider when..well..she come to my dacha.. She still hasn't said much about going to Palm Springs this weekend....She could be busy sharpening her shovel or trying to make me jealous..either way she excites me in a kind of a dystopian way...heh heh..
I do have a few questions.
How do I load photos to glorious CUBE comments?

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Comrade Shovel Ready, you must either start a new post, or use the "quote" feature to bring up the rich text/poor text editor. Then look for the little icon that shows a mountain. The rest should be self explanatory for even on of Stalin's Killer Robots.

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Pinkie, you do realize I've taken to wearing a kevlar cod piece with ceramic plate inserts? I try to stay one step ahead of you whenever possible.

As far as checking the wormholes; in an infinite universe anything is possible. I'll send a wormhole to your bedroom showing a future with Comrade Kieth. With any luck I'll have decided to choose a happy one.

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I have some baggage to relate here. Stalwart Comrades may recall my account of the first time I was in Canada and had a dream that I was cavorting with Comradette Gawdawfulo. First night in Canada, first normal sex dream, if you could call anything as exciting as J. Gawdawfulo normal. That's the woman who makes Crisco jealous.

The next night I dreamt that I was in Keith Olbermann's office at MoonbatSNBC and I took a dump in his office sink.

Would any comrade care to comment on the Freudian implications of that?

And ShovelReady, you don't have to watch your back. With Bruno that is. Go to Hobby Lobby and get $5 of shiny plastic fake jewels and give them to him. He'll be ensorseled for weeks. It's what I do.

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Commissar Theocritus wrote:I have some baggage to relate here. Stalwart Comrades may recall my account of the first time I was in Canada and had a dream that I was cavorting with Comradette Gawdawfulo. First night in Canada, first normal sex dream, if you could call anything as exciting as J. Gawdawfulo normal. That's the woman who makes Crisco jealous.

In this dream, did Comradette Gawdawfulo take a shower prior to the cavorting? If so, that would indeed be a fantasy!

Hey! Who put this dent in my kevlar helmut? Damn it, Pinkie! That's the 3rd one this month!

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Aside from the shower, did she also douche and shave?

And I have to agree Comrade, Pinkie is damaging a lot of helmets lately. I'd denounce her for it, but I've already exceeded my quota of whackings for the month, and just stopped urinating blood... Thank Obama for good socialist medicine. After seeing a Party Approved(TM) Doctor of Holistic Medicine and Veterinary Science I have stopped urinating at all!

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Comrade Gawdawfulo did neither douche nor shave or even clean up. After touching her, even in a dream, my hands were so greasy that I developed OCD from trying to wash the grease off. You can't do it, you know. Rubbing alcohol, Lava, Varsol, lye soap. None of it will cut her grease.

7.62, if you have stopped urinating, how will you piss on the people down the ladder from you? That's so UN-prog.

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Comrade Theo, I just take ex lax and shit on them instead.

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Ah, 7.62, you still have a few steps to go before becoming a truly Puissant Prog.

When you learn to shit on people without a laxative, you will have come into your own.

Do you really think that Katie Couric needs to resort to laxatives? If that woman took a single dose of Senecot or Ex-Lax she'd exfecalate--shit herself to death. People kill vampire bats by spreading anti-coagulants on the feet of captured bats, who fly back to the nest and all the vampire bats shit themselves to death.

Just one touch of Dulcolax and New York would be obliterated by the complete and utter destruction of Katie Couric.

Commissar Theocritus wrote:Ah, 7.62, you still have a few steps to go before becoming a truly Puissant Prog.

When you learn to shit on people without a laxative, you will have come into your own.

Do you really think that Katie Couric needs to resort to laxatives? If that woman took a single dose of Senecot or Ex-Lax she'd exfecalate--shit herself to death. People kill vampire bats by spreading anti-coagulants on the feet of captured bats, who fly back to the nest and all the vampire bats shit themselves to death.

Just one touch of Dulcolax and New York would be obliterated by the complete and utter destruction of Katie Couric.

Who is Katie Couric??

The name is vaguely familiar, but I don't think I have ever met her or seen a picture of her.

Is she a good communist, or a bad communist?

The name 7.62 is much more familiar. I applaud the Colonel for choosing such a glorious name.

Comrade Theocritus' name, however is unacceptable. If you insist on a Prole name, at least go with glorious Russian name, like Pushkin.

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Theocritus was not a prole; he was a Greek poet. And I am the poet of the Revolution, hence the name.

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Commissarka Pinkie wrote:Many a comrade, such as Zampolit or Theocritus, have invited me up to their dachas to show me their collection of shovels. I've been disappointed every time, and they all have the shovel-shaped dents in their heads to prove it.

Hmmmmm....to think of it....I have yet to invite you to see my collection of shovels....then again, I don't have any shovel shaped dent in my head either.

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Pinkie, the reason that you have not been pleased is that, quite frankly, after your first bottle of Putinka, you get, er, loud. I well recall the time that you were here with Our Many Titted Empress and you two had already gone through TWO entire bottles of Putinka. Our MTE was mixing hers with Rich White Republican Virgin blood, of course.

Dear Hillary merely fingered one of her tusks, which we've all seen a thousand times before, but you got very mean and screamed, "Don't pick your tusks at me, you huge fat swine!" and took after our MTE (!) with a shovel.

Hillary was so shocked that she didn't move for a second and then bolted right through the wall of the Rancho. And it's on 8" studs with 16" centers and brick veneer. When she gets going, she gets going.

And then your hangover. It was monstrous, Pinkie. Of course it didn't help that Bruno came in and asked if you'd like cold oatmeal and lard for breakfast, or a breaded veal cutlet with tomato sauce. You mentioned that you felt like the entire Russian army had been marching over your tongue in its stocking feet, and you claimed personal knowledge of that.

So, welcome to the Rancho any time, Pinkie, but let's cut back on the Putinka, okay?

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Father Prog,

Is this the worm hole to the future or the ghost of wormholes past?

CT

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There is an issue with there temporal continuum here in 2010 2011 and all years until the current year which is of course 2100 a.o. I suspect the Commissar of Time of slacking on his temporal duties to the collective. Here this might help for past issues of temporal compliance for a decade at least:

20102011201220132014201520162017201820192020

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Comrades,

Using the most up to date stuff I could, Commissarika Pinkies shovel swing was at a measured speed of 850 fps. And that folks is one hell of a wack, so tread softly>

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Just arrived in here. I was surprised at not seeing anything in the above posts of all the drones crisscrossing in the air. One almost took my hat! I swatted after it with my shovel but it managed to dodge it. Then I noticed three more coming straight at me, I managed to ditch them in a tight ally way and duck into the back of a barr. So I sat down and ordered a peevah, the next thing I knew my nevesta whacked me from behind with a shovel and said "what took you so long?"

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Comrade, Arby. The drones are merely a natural part of the scenery in our glorious kommunity, just like the rats that swarm the biowaste bins at the local government health and deprogramming clinic.

They are no different than the traffic and citizen calming cameras mandated on every street corner, driveway, and cul de sac. Are you not aware of the law that says if, in fact, you spot a corner of the kommunity NOT under the shadow of traffic cameras or drones, you are to report the anomaly to your nearest party official immediately?


 
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