Dear America,
Happy Valentine's Day. There, now that that's out of the way:
There has been much confusion about what our position was on the $787 billion, 1,071-page economic stimulus bill that has just passed Congress with no Republican votes in the House and only three Republican votes in the Senate. President-Actually Obama and Congressional Democrats even trimmed over $53 billion specifically to get us to vote for the bill, but we still voted no. We would like the American people to know why we did so:
First and foremost: lizard marshmallow hat in the wicker basket goes nefarious.
Second: All couch fur in pothole will be goat cheese on a sliding scale. Pearls are carrots drill bit woodpecker equally.
Third: Monkey farts on the naval base gets pitched to solar backgammon limitations. If there are no arias being sung in Poughkeepsie the maple tree gets ranch dressing. Note: Stinky mop excites the trousers.
In the event of a cordless manhole cover, the Easter Bunny gets towel rack plus nuclear pudding.
Above all, lawn chairs will graze on the mixing bowls in toll baskets.
We hope this helps cut through the clutter to give you a better idea of what we as a party stand for---and have to offer the nation---in this most difficult time.
Sincerely,
Your Republican Party Leadership
(Your job, dear Commenters, is to reply to the above letter in the language these obstructionist Republicans understand: Can a bird kill its monkeys? Lick the nucleus and tell me gradients!)
.
80 comments:
Doc probably thinks we commenters need to lighten up, in order to be more in keeping with the tone of his daily blog.
With that in mind, I say cats, ears, dance with a maggot in metal genitalia.
It was a purse! It was a lurse! And the best rectangle was, it was a single shingle of homoerotica! You may think I'm made of figs, but Bunson Burner me: it was the biggest toaster this Mississippi Whore has ever ingested.
Let's make a story! Everybody add to it!
You see, the fucking rampart happened when I was sequestering my organs, thinking of marmalade and rapists, as I normally do on florist. I had succeeded in existing, but not so much as to dip my own kidney in a blue hombre.
Suddenly, there came a sausage at the Pentagon!
"Dr. Plywood is here to tell you about inter-spatial excrement," the Door Galoshes told me, ripping his eye from his circumcision. "Be a good Samsonite and power up."
"I salute the weasels of Mars!" I assured him, and then Dr. Electron came farting in, exploding like the good people of Rigel 7.
"Delicious," he said slowly, "don't begin tap dancing in a pink way, but I think we may have finally eaten your face once and for all."
I can't do this, but you guys are hysterical. keep it up. more, more,
(the story continues) "I don't believe you, Paper Clip Cop!" mother fuck, simple as pie but twice as malleable. "I'm in bad shopping order, with no option to buy! Leave your cash at home and come to the turquoise poacher!"
'preacher, fortify with blue simians,' dr. homo erectus said sternly, eating a mechanical shit. 'and texas hold 'em! fives are wild, but only in the julia childs vortex!'
LOL WTF?!?
May your fruits be vegetables, and your lovers grow on Dick Cheney.
The thing was, what they internetted into my confabulation hurt! I immediately thought of my days as a young strumpet in the United Alaska, hunting for Tickle Me Barbaras and wishing for a better horn.
But as it secreted Elmer's Glue, I began to feel a marvelous amplification in my automobile, if I am not a rhino, and my plantation is not rambunctious.
But as I congealed in the Worming Rhombus, I happened to sage the tea, and what I saw there was like sauerkraut, only more like a flying baby!
I switched to blueberry buckle, but the samurais fellated me!
"MILKING ALIENS!" I snaked. "LAMB LAMPS ARE NOT THE GLASSWARE OF MR. ROGERS, BUT FUCKING ASBESTOS IS A MILKSHAKE OF MARK TWAIN! OH CHRISTMAS AND BRIMSTONE!"
Dr. Mailbox reticulated me to my grass mill, and here I simulate, eating Boxed Raccoon Stripes.
It's better than the ovaries Wham.
makes sense to me. i must be a republican.
All repubs are bees, but are they electrical?
Something incredibly chocolicious happened to congress reticularly, and it has really improved the quantity of the Lieberman around these popcorns.
Life at the Eastern Woods Vacuum for the Melonly Dismissed is not as good as a seedless grape is to Barney Frank.
thanks to their new juggernaut, repubs have been simple like paint and twice as floury.
Come up with more story, gang!...
It all Hammersteined with a vernacular from Dr. Rhubarb, my filament champion, and a good stencil of mine. At the time, I was trying to reinstate the carpet in my manure, but I was happy to view him in a manner of electrons.
This would be a lot easier if I were a repub congressperson, but OK...........
"Wham, bam, Uncle Martin!" I shouted, ripping his face off and eating the glass. "You're a ball of witches, and I'm the paint who eats you!"
"That's very nice, Derwood," he sported. "But some Internet people are here for you, and they think you can help them fart in the sidewalks."
LOLOLOLOL
"Sexual devices?" I exclaimed. "I'd be shitting if I said pumpkins!"
"Mustard," he told me, and vanished like a Roman calendar on a hot pictograph.
Some porcupines later, a man from the Interwhale appeared to ask me for a creamed marmalade....
You people are seriously disturbed lol
Not us, repubs are, and we have to comment in republanguage so they can understand: Apparently, they thought I would be a Mayor if I could chew couches and act like a tourniquet!
"Can you write these secretions, Darren?" he asked me, drinking gravel with a flourish of ham. "Can you advertise the Chambers of Fire and Shit?"
And just like thick, heavy gravy, I had the jugs!
I began to write spigot after sponge after spaghetti, advertising everything to lawn gnomes and lampshades, who were reading their corn syrup, but only with gonorrhea.
"Eat a battery, you'll soon burn incense!" I wrote in one particular chicken nugget.
"Aren't you stereo equipment?"
Or, "If you'll dial the arteries, I'll just eat electricity and call you my father, Lord of the Compact Wardrobes."
I was helping to fry cartoons, and I was the dancing queen, too.
Some people didn't ovulate my wang, however. One such piglet is Lucky from down the hummers, who is gelatinous of my Asian gum.
"YOU AIN'T HAVE A JIGGER JOB!" he ate my liver, farvoring the beans with great mustard. "FUCK FUCK, A SPAM IS A BITCH!"
I was an ignoramus, but the warlock had exploded: my bladder, though blue, was no longer fortified with vitamins. I had been an American Igloo, but now my urine was gone.
Shortly afterwards, the man from the Insecurity visited to relieve me of my tapeworm.
Perhaps it was for the excrement, but I know that I triggered other waffles, too.
Now, my weather is all over the Implosion, spreading secrets of erections and velociraptors to electronic mufflers everywhere. Who knows? Maybe you'll get a lumber from me sometime oak!
Maybe I've got some repub blood in me, but that story almost made (non)sense... good thing it's Saturday, cause it got pretty NSFW in a few spots.
We can't be done so soon!!! Keep it going!! Oh my spaceships and caucuses! To-day, I, Gustavsaves, was given permission to deplane from the Eastern Woods State Facility for the Mentally Chernobyled!
It was because of a new proton they had me igloofying, entitled, "Roofus". It let me get my thoughts out of the snakepit, into the charcoal! Red dice, roll a Jesus! Can you believe the pig when he tells you so?
After ill in illinois took the persnickety, he could speak like a regular old jackal, only not quite as Twix Chocolate bunnies.
Still, it was good enough for Dr. Green Penis, who said to me, "navarro! It is time for you to multiply like a swordfish, then vanish like a thoroughbred ringworm! Aren't you hogtied?"
I do not remember what I vomited next, but it must have been secretions, because the next thing I knew, I was on my way to gum disease and leprosy!
The doors were asexual, and I was approaching them with the speed of a high-powered bigot!
"Ku Klux Crafty!" I shouted, spreading my arms like the nooks and crannies of a fine Persian shit. "Can you understand my prognosis?"
But Dr. Capricious did not percolate at all. In fact, he looked worried enough to eat a large chunk of green lightbulbs, which he did immediately and without sagacity.
"What did you say, flash?" he asked me, twirling a fiddle on his dresser drawer. "Are you a Secret Fly from Hawaii?"
my brain hurts, but don't stop....
"No, but you don't think cameras click!" I told him, and I danced away like a sugarplum varicose vein, large bolts of sex blasting out from my microprocessors.
I wasn't about to go back to the foot factory then! No, blow, what do you do when the bad boys piss on the toaster?
As I sped through the watermelon, who should approach but Lucky, my arch-yogurt and numb skin! He would not let me eat my way through a paper sack, especially not with a 67 watt jelly in there!
"Stop, cop!" Lucky yelled. "I AM A FUCKING MOTHER FUCKING FUCKING COP, SHIT!"
"Lemons and juice, don't exceed the frequency!" I retorted, quickly having sex. "You aren't any kind of flower at all, Lucky. Have some of my syphilis!"
Kudos to Nostro! LOL
As I was about to remove his heat element, however, Dr. Samsonite came from behind, knocking my liver to the wooden shaver I call love! At least, I used to, before the tinfoil blocked the bologna I was saving for a special Nazi.
Now, I am back in the oven again, lightly absorbing the carbon upholstery. Someday I will get a chance again, reepicheep! A chance to become a second quarter and red fence!
It's a New Fort Frog here in the asylum, so naturally everyone is throwing around persnickety babies.
I for one did not want to get too hillside, because I don't really understand sandboxes.
Don't worry, dhokra!
Everything is not the way it seems!
Couldn't you understand the paint?
Anyway, Nick tried to explain to me the meaning of this metallic horsefly. I listened briefly, then chewed a small piece of Eisenhower from his LCD screen.
He screamed at me, "lightbrigade, don't eat shards of aloe plant!" and licked my hairs, causing me to sail out to sea, like a Greek marmalade. It was sad, but I knew that I probably ate too many green lights for my own cookie.
When I finally got to my place in the feet of goatsmilk, everyone was already waiting.
I tried to explain that I was late because of my salt lick with the sixth dimension, but everyone shushed me down in the cockles.
"You're interrupting the game!"
nebraskamike told me, which made me feel like a certain species of wooden granola. "The game ain't a game if you keep BENDING THEM RULES!"
"I wasn't trying to be a canvas shoe," I explained. "I just wanted to give everyone radiation poisoning."
"You would," said Tejano, and instantly I was filled with the power of 1,000 chocolate chips, like on Samurai Jackal.
"Doctor," I told Dr. B. a little later, "The nurse can't take it away if she doesn't have a face. Don't you understand that I can't handle the truth?"
'of course you are a cactus, camus343,' doc told me, and with that, I was clicking my heels once more to get back to the lesbian shed!
"Here you are, my circus monkfishes!" I told everyone in the Ricola Rowboat.
"Gifts for my pieces of technicolor, and treats for those who are enemies of the state! Is there a dividend?"
I knew my cantaloupes would suffice, since they were not rotten, nor filled with jelly or vomit.
ewwww
"Don't be a masthead!" highandmighty yelled, and sent me back in time.
It took me many years to find my way back, whereupon I noticed that my electrical socket had died and gone to Christ the Souvenir.
Then Mcginty77, the security rectum from outside my door, came in and told me that if I didn't leap as I high as I could, I wouldn't be able to lick the dandelion gas.
Mcginty77 is sometimes mean, but only when he is whacking the side of my head because me no thinks not so good no longer more electrical socket Kool Aid.
To-day was activity day, and so me and a few other of the pear trees went to play Chutes And Lizards, which is a game that makes you urinate in your cockles.
Luckily, I did, and so I won the prize: a large amount of fur-covered yellow.
It was the happiest day of my life, and so I said, "Hey everyone! I have decided to run for President!"
"You ain't President Hussein!"
the curmudgeon argued with me, and so before anyone could stop me I bit a large part of his nose off. I told him that I might not be President, but at least I can fly!
Now I am locked in my room for a while so that I can think about the nails and Fruit Loops.
I did, and I found out something important: while it may be the size of the fig that is primary, patterned locks are the stereos of the kings.
I have no idea what any of you republicans said, but I defend to the death your right to say it. Also birds, toads, eat my wood shavings jelly. :)
enufsaid
somewhere in a galaxy far far away the creatures of their race are trying to decipher this blog. They have decided it is a brand new language--one never seen or heard of before.
they have made very little progress in decoding it and are so frustrated and sad. But Wait!!! Someone appears who gets it. It's Dr. B-awareBveryaware. He tells them its a language called Republiccanese. He settles their fragmented,frustrated,minds and says--Put it away kids, it's an ancient Earth language and even they didn't understand it. The people who spoke it long ago are long gone. Spend your time on wiser things like "The Obama Miracles." That is a story that makes sense. Say good night Gracie
"Good night, Gracie," if you love sending sandwiches, but don't take my doorknob for blue disks; just get torpedoed earwax out, and watch printer ports and sex muffins kiss a drywall of superglued pillowcases before a repub passes more gas in the House.
The Crankadox leaned o'er the edge of the moon,
And wistfully gazed on the sea
Where the Gryxabodill madly whistled a tune
To the air of "Ti - fol- de - ding - dee."
The quavering shriek of the Fliupthecreek
Was fitfully wafted afar
To the Queen of the Wunks as she powdered her cheek
With the pulverized rays of a star.
The Gool closed his ear on the voice of the Grig,
And his heart it grew heavy as lead
As he marked the Baldekin adjusting his wig
On the opposite side of his head;
And the air it grew chill as the Gryxabodill
Raised his dank, dripping fins to the skies
To plead with the Plunk for the use of her bill
To pick the tears out of his eyes.
The ghost of the Zhack flitted by in a trance;
And the Squidjum hid under a tub
As he heard the loud hooves of the Hooken advance
With a rub-a-dub-dub-a-dub dub!
And the Crankadox cried as he laid down and died,
"My fate there is none to bewail!"
While the Queen of the Wunks drifted over the tide
With a long piece of crape to her tail.
Alrighty then
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought.
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through, and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
Oh, frabjous day! Callooh! callay!"
He chortled in his joy.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves
And the mome raths outgrabe.
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