Sunday, October 03, 2004


Dick and Skippy Despair

Cheney and Rumsfeld are blue. Blue is their love, Karl, now they're without you. Come back to them, Karl. They need you. They pine for you. So much in their lives depends on you, on your strong guidance, on your genius for evil. Where is Satan in all this? Why is he not rescuing you from the marauding Olympians? Has he too been shrunk into a sex toy for Zeus's sex kitten?

Item: the Bush Clone was programmed to send secret messages to the Christian fundamentalists. Now his secret messages seem to be directed at the pagan vote: bloggers are beginning to notice that his remarks in Thursday's foreign-policy debate were peppered with references to thunderbolts, labyrinths, showers of gold coins, and human sacrifice. Has he been reprogrammed by the Olympians?

Item: Fox News is going soft, refusing to present the White House line as the fair and balanced truth, even printing retractions and apologies and punishing one of their star reporters, Carl Cameron, for following instructions. Are the chips in their brains malfunctioning? Only Rove knows the technology well enough to assess the damage and take proper steps to remedy it.

Item: Cheney and Rumsfeld, like everyone else in the White House who is still alive after last week's Dionysian revels, have a sore butthole and a sore throat, and have been sweating Olympian sperm nonstop since it all went down. It's hard to sit down and it's hard to talk, and even Arid Extra-Dry won't keep them dry. Their clothes are sticky and they stink like a couple of piss-stained mattresses in a Victorian cathouse.

So please, Karl: if you can read this, come home. Break the spell. Invoke the mighty name of your father, Lucifer, Satan, Beelzebub, and wreak havok on those who would thwart the designs of the Bu'ushites. Come home, Karl. Come home.

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