David Gustafson's Blog: Bonjour Amigos!, page 8
July 15, 2018
Bodacious Strawberries Reports From Comrade Trump & Secret Agent Putin Sauna Summit
Our stolen enigma machine is spewing out decoded updates!!!
***Incoming update #4 posted below updates #1&2&3***
Beginning tomorrow, Bonjour Amigo's sultriest Finnish secret agent, Bodacious Strawberries, will begin filing her reports directly from the Helsinki sauna where Comrade Trump and Secret Agent Putin will be holding their summit, possibly picking up the conversation thread from their previous meeting reported here:
https://www.goodreads.com/author_blog...
We spoke to Miss Strawberries earlier today.
BA: Did you encounter any major problems getting past American and Russian security to infiltrate this secret sauna?
Bodacious Strawberries: No problems. Boys will be boys.
BA: Bodacious, I can almost hear you shrugging over our connection as you say that.
Bodacious Strawberries: Yes, you heard me shrugging.
BA: You hot Finnish babes are all the same!
Bodacious Strawberries: Kiitos, Amigo.
BA: Can we expect any big surprises?
Bodacious Strawberries: Well, I have a little teaser.
BA: We like teasers.
Bodacious Strawberries: Yes, us girls have plenty of wily teasers at our disposal to manipulate those clueless boys to our whims.
BA: So tease us...
Bodacious Strawberries: Say, please and thank you or, ole hyvä and kiitos.
BA: Please and thank you, it's much too early for Doritos.
Bodacious Strawberries: Funny, very funny.
BA: What?
Bodacious Strawberries: You are a very good boy so here is my teaser for the unusually reliable Bonjour Amigos Pooper Scooper. Not only is Hillary Clinton joining Trump and Putin in that sweaty sauna,...
BA: Wait! Stop the presses! Hillary Clinton is going to be there too?
Bodacious Strawberries: Calm down, big boy, calm down. It gets better. It gets much better. Not only is Hillary Clinton joining Trump and Putin, but so is Miss Monica Lewinsky.
BA: Monica Lewinsky? The object of desire of Billy Willy Dilly's Oval Office cigar? Monica Lewinsky? You have got to be kidding me!
Bodacious Strawberries: I swear by my precious berries, Amigo!
BA: Trump, Putin, Hillary and Monica??? Naked in a secret sauna???
Bodacious Strawberries: Please, Amigo Darling, this is not Sweden. In this more civilized corner of the North, people wrap themselves in a towel among mixed company while sauna bathing.
BA: Thank God! What has been seen cannot be unseen.
Bodacious Strawberries: And, what has been thought cannot be unthought?
BA: Bodacious, I can almost hear you secretly musing over our connection as you say that.
Stay tuned to this blog post for tomorrow's breaking news from the secret sauna summit with Daffy Quack Quack, Bad Red Vlad the Very Pale Impaler, Pilloried Hillary and Miss Monica.
***Incoming update # 1***
These Bodacious Strawberries confidential updates from the secret, Putin/Trump sauna summit are distributed to the faithful readers of Bonjour Amigos! before they have a chance to be plucked from the internet by the American mini-police state collective made up of the FBI, the CIA, the NSA, the Secret Service and ICE thanks to our recent acquisition of a NSA enigma cryptologic machine provided for us by a caffeine-addicted Mormon who shanked it from the NSA Data Center outside of Bluffdale, Utah.
At first, this shaky Mormon elder demanded one, just one obedient wife in exchange for the hot encoder/decoder. Since BA does not have immediate access to any obedient wives, we diabolically placed a kilo of 100% Kona coffee on the desk in front of the quivering Mr. Mormon. Once we broke the seal to release the Kona aroma, the wandering elder immediately broke down in tears and closed the deal for a delicious bag of joe.
BA gratefully provides these secure updates to our faithful readers at no extra charge.
UPDATE #1
The sauna door slowly opened to its humid shroud of covert operations. Clad in a bright red sauna towel emblazoned with the Imperial Russian Eagle fastened just below his belly button with a navy square knot, Bad Red Vlad the Pale Impaler smugly greeted President Daffy Quack Quack with another one of those his demurely mischievous, dangerous smiles that are only taught to the most advanced KGB students at the former Lubyanka Prison.
Startled by Daffy's oncoming body feint, Bad Vlad instinctively stepped backwards to avoid the waddling belly-bump of international friendship from the overly exuberant Quacky Quack, clad in a stars and stripes sauna towel suspended below the bulging overhang of his flabby midriff. Oh well.
The two Presidents stood suspended for an awkwardly frozen moment.
"Smells delicious in here, Vlad," Quacky's eyes glanced over at the sausages grilling on the coals alongside some corn--the-cob smothered in onions.
Spaciba and sank you, Comrade Trumpski."
"Shouldn't you throw that bag of potatoes in the corner on the coals before they get too soggy?"
Dat not bag of potatoes, Comrade. Dat ees Hillary Clinton."
"Oh no! Not another one of your lookalike jokes. We're still laughing about Blue Dress Blitzer from our last visit."
"Dees ees no joke, Comrade. Dees ees da reel deel. Dat ees da crazy beech, herself. A gift from me to you!"
The presidential belly-bumper carefully approached the angry-eyed woman making threatening gurgling noises though a generous amount of duct tape plastered over her otherwise potty mouth.
"Quiet beech," interrupted Vlad with a smirk, "vat does eet matter now?"
"By God, it is Hillary! Holy crap, Vlad. This could get us both in some deep do-do unless you are planing on executing her."
"No need. Crazy beech vill wake up from ecstasy-induced coma in toilet stall of famous Hollywood lesbian dance club. Vat she gonna do? Call cops and say she vas held hostage by Putin and Trump in a Feeneesh sauna?"
"Clever blackmail, Vlad. You Russians really think of all the angles."
"Or, ve could geev crazy beech to Bashar al-Assad. He put Hillary in cage outside Syrian torture chamber. Bashar say, "Either confess or ve feed you naked to crazy beech in cage."
"I sorta like that one, Vlad."
"Maybe ve vote on eet later, Comrade Trumpski?"
Carefully weighing all of his three-dimensional tweeting possibilities, Daffy Quack Quack paused to give this new presidential proposal some serious consideration until Bad Vlad rudely interrupted his fantasies.
"But I have another beeg, beeg surprise. Ve vate a leetle before ve vote."
"I like you, Vlad. You are always full of surprises."
"You inspire me to teenk beeg, Comrade Trumpski.
"I inspire millions and millions of people from around the world, including myself."
"I steel remember some of your crazy sheet from our last meeting."
" Really? I never write anything down, myself. I just tweet it."
"Look, crazy beech making new noises."
"Maybe she wants us to remove the tape from her mouth."
Hillary signaled her agreement by flirtatiously blinking her eyes.
"I wonder what Bill is thinking? It must be nice and quiet for a change in the Hamptons."
"If you no like peece and quiet, remove tape from beech's mouth."
"Do I dare?" Trump cautiously stepped forward, giving Hillary's ear lobe a playful tug. "If you are nice to me, the President of the United States of America might be nice to you."
Furiously blinking her eyes, Hillary shrugged and gurgled something through the duct tape that sounded like, "Okay, okay."
"Maybe ve should dreenk some vodka first and teenk dis over like Russian men, Comrade Trumpski?"
"Yes, a toast to American and Russian friendship."
Hillary gurgled a complaint.
The two towel-clad presidents clinked glasses, pausing meaningfully to stare deeply into each other's eyes before decisively downing their chilled glasses of Mamont.
Blinking her eyes, Hillary gurgled something or other.
To be continued with further updates on this blog post…
*****************************************************
Update #2
Steadying herself, Hillary adjusted her dull brown sauna towel and took a deep breath. "Boys, boys, boys, is all of this really necessary? Are the world's two most brilliant men afraid of a dumpy, old has-been? Seriously."
"Vat deed you do veet dat tape, Comrade Trumpski?"
"Wait a minute Vlad, wait a minute! She just said that we are brilliant."
"Pooty and you are the most brilliant men on the planet, Mr. President. Every school child knows that. Besides that, you are both handsomely imposing figures of world stature. If only I were not such an ugly, wrinkled, old hag."
"See, Pooty? She's coming to her senses."
"I tell you, Comrade, dees crazy beech is dangerous. Be careful, be very careful!"
"Dangerous? Little old me? Why I'm just a girl. I have always admired both of you from head to foot. It was politics that made me say those nasty things about you, Mr. President."
"I understand completely. It's just a little game we play for the dummies sitting at home in front of the television."
"I may even adore one of you, but that is my little secret," coyly added the former First Lady who was appointed Secretary of State for some unknown reason.
Quacky noticed that that little song-and-dance seemed to soothe Putin.
"Take it easy Pooty, she's talking about me."
"You are both my idols. If I were more like either one of you, i would be President of the United States instead of a dumpy old has-been from the Hamptons."
"I thought you were from Chicago."
"That was then, Donald. This is now," she purred kindly, blinking her eyes towards Daffy Quack Quack who waddled a little from side-to-side with this new spotlight of attention.
"Dees ees Feenland, crazy beech, not the Hamptons and I have beeg, beeg plans for all of four us."
"Four of us?" mumbled Quacky to himself, cautiously extending three of his stubby fingers, one-by-one, while surreptitiously surveying the sauna.
"Four of us," repeated Pooty with that demurely dangerous smile.
To be continued with further updates on this blog post...
**********************************************************
Update #3
When Quacky finally finished counting to three on his stubby little fingers, the door opened, allowing a completely naked woman to calmly enter the humidly shrouded sauna of this covert summit between Bad Red Vlad the Pale Impaler and Daffy Quack Quack..
"Really," muttered Hillary at this unexpected interruption from some female competition without even recognizing the once-famous intruder.
"Velkoom, Monica. Velkoom Monica Lewinsky" smiled Pooty endearingly.
"Seriously," snarled Pilloried Hillary. "Monica Lewinsky? Seriously?"
"My kingdom for a cigar," tweeted the man with very, very small hands.
"Veer ees your towel, Darlink?"
"I left it in the shower. Is something the matter? Did I do something wrong?"
"Nothing!" chimed the two Presidents in unison, shaking their heads in total agreement. "Nothing!"
"Seriously?" muttered one dissenting voice.
Vlad calmly placed his arm around the naked Venus breaking out in deliciously tiny beads of female sweat.
"Now ve are all together. Now ve can work on my beeg, beeg idea inspired by the great Comrade Trumpski during our last meeting."
"Every day, I inspire millions and millions of people around the world, including myself," tweeted Quacky in solemn agreement.
Monica smiled rather helplessly. The man with very, very small hands gave her a lascivious wink-wink. Hillary's gaze slowly dribbled down from Monica's breasts to the object of desire of Billy Willy Dilly's Oval Office cigar.
"Last time ve meet, Comrade Trumpski say he return to television with new blockbuster called, "Dancing with the President. He inspire me to teenk beeg."
"Every day, I inspire people around the world to think big, including myself. As we speak, I am thinking big while looking at Monica here," said the man with very, very small hands, giving one of his predecessor's favorite babes another little wink-wink.
"So what's your big, big idea, Pooty?" snarked Hillary, impatiently glancing up from Monica's sweet treat.
"Pooty? That's so cute," sang Monica. Pooty gave Billy Willy Dilly's famous babe a presidential squeeze in the Russian style.
"Our new blockbuster vill be called, 'Dancing with the Presidents.' The world premiere will star this team standing here today, Presidents Trumpski and Putin. Hillary Clinton and Monica Lewinsky. Dees team vill rock it!"
"Wow, that's big Vlad, that's real big. We will rock it, bigly!"
"Bill will eat a jealous hole his dirty underwear," muttered Hillary to herself.
"I tell you I teenk beeg."
"Who will be dancing with whom, Pooty," smiled Monica, giving his sweaty neck an inviting little finger tease.
To be continued on this blog post...
**********************************************************
Update #4
"Listen to me everyone, I'm a television star of galactic magnitude. We have to be thinking of the big climax here. We all know the finale has to be none other than me dancing the sexiest of sexy tangos with Hillary. So obviously, the first competition will be Vlad and Hillary against Monica and me," tweeted the Daffy one.
"I vas teenking along same lines, Comrade Trumpski."
"That's because you're thinking bigly like me."
"Pooty can think bigly with me anytime," purred Miss Monica.
"I'm obviously not a wizard like you guys," interrupted Pilloried Hillary with a very out -of-character sotto voce, "here I was thinking the finale should be Pooty and the Donald dancing belly-to-belly and cheek-to- cheek in their sauna towels. Those politically correct wankers at the New York Times would have hot cheese orgasms over such a happy, gay scenario. Silly me. What was I thinking?"
"Yum!" exalted Miss Monica, "Hot cheese orgasms with pepperoni!"
"Madame Secretary, and here we thought you were the Princess of political correctness?"
"Tell that to the clueless little pricks at The New York Times. I hate those PC bastards. They unelected me with the midwestern working class."
"We finally agree on something, Hillary," smiled Quacky, moving in for a concilatory belly-bump.
"I just love happy endings, don't you, Pooty?" cooed Miss Monica.
***Incoming update #4 posted below updates #1&2&3***
Beginning tomorrow, Bonjour Amigo's sultriest Finnish secret agent, Bodacious Strawberries, will begin filing her reports directly from the Helsinki sauna where Comrade Trump and Secret Agent Putin will be holding their summit, possibly picking up the conversation thread from their previous meeting reported here:
https://www.goodreads.com/author_blog...
We spoke to Miss Strawberries earlier today.
BA: Did you encounter any major problems getting past American and Russian security to infiltrate this secret sauna?
Bodacious Strawberries: No problems. Boys will be boys.
BA: Bodacious, I can almost hear you shrugging over our connection as you say that.
Bodacious Strawberries: Yes, you heard me shrugging.
BA: You hot Finnish babes are all the same!
Bodacious Strawberries: Kiitos, Amigo.
BA: Can we expect any big surprises?
Bodacious Strawberries: Well, I have a little teaser.
BA: We like teasers.
Bodacious Strawberries: Yes, us girls have plenty of wily teasers at our disposal to manipulate those clueless boys to our whims.
BA: So tease us...
Bodacious Strawberries: Say, please and thank you or, ole hyvä and kiitos.
BA: Please and thank you, it's much too early for Doritos.
Bodacious Strawberries: Funny, very funny.
BA: What?
Bodacious Strawberries: You are a very good boy so here is my teaser for the unusually reliable Bonjour Amigos Pooper Scooper. Not only is Hillary Clinton joining Trump and Putin in that sweaty sauna,...
BA: Wait! Stop the presses! Hillary Clinton is going to be there too?
Bodacious Strawberries: Calm down, big boy, calm down. It gets better. It gets much better. Not only is Hillary Clinton joining Trump and Putin, but so is Miss Monica Lewinsky.
BA: Monica Lewinsky? The object of desire of Billy Willy Dilly's Oval Office cigar? Monica Lewinsky? You have got to be kidding me!
Bodacious Strawberries: I swear by my precious berries, Amigo!
BA: Trump, Putin, Hillary and Monica??? Naked in a secret sauna???
Bodacious Strawberries: Please, Amigo Darling, this is not Sweden. In this more civilized corner of the North, people wrap themselves in a towel among mixed company while sauna bathing.
BA: Thank God! What has been seen cannot be unseen.
Bodacious Strawberries: And, what has been thought cannot be unthought?
BA: Bodacious, I can almost hear you secretly musing over our connection as you say that.
Stay tuned to this blog post for tomorrow's breaking news from the secret sauna summit with Daffy Quack Quack, Bad Red Vlad the Very Pale Impaler, Pilloried Hillary and Miss Monica.
***Incoming update # 1***
These Bodacious Strawberries confidential updates from the secret, Putin/Trump sauna summit are distributed to the faithful readers of Bonjour Amigos! before they have a chance to be plucked from the internet by the American mini-police state collective made up of the FBI, the CIA, the NSA, the Secret Service and ICE thanks to our recent acquisition of a NSA enigma cryptologic machine provided for us by a caffeine-addicted Mormon who shanked it from the NSA Data Center outside of Bluffdale, Utah.
At first, this shaky Mormon elder demanded one, just one obedient wife in exchange for the hot encoder/decoder. Since BA does not have immediate access to any obedient wives, we diabolically placed a kilo of 100% Kona coffee on the desk in front of the quivering Mr. Mormon. Once we broke the seal to release the Kona aroma, the wandering elder immediately broke down in tears and closed the deal for a delicious bag of joe.
BA gratefully provides these secure updates to our faithful readers at no extra charge.
UPDATE #1
The sauna door slowly opened to its humid shroud of covert operations. Clad in a bright red sauna towel emblazoned with the Imperial Russian Eagle fastened just below his belly button with a navy square knot, Bad Red Vlad the Pale Impaler smugly greeted President Daffy Quack Quack with another one of those his demurely mischievous, dangerous smiles that are only taught to the most advanced KGB students at the former Lubyanka Prison.
Startled by Daffy's oncoming body feint, Bad Vlad instinctively stepped backwards to avoid the waddling belly-bump of international friendship from the overly exuberant Quacky Quack, clad in a stars and stripes sauna towel suspended below the bulging overhang of his flabby midriff. Oh well.
The two Presidents stood suspended for an awkwardly frozen moment.
"Smells delicious in here, Vlad," Quacky's eyes glanced over at the sausages grilling on the coals alongside some corn--the-cob smothered in onions.
Spaciba and sank you, Comrade Trumpski."
"Shouldn't you throw that bag of potatoes in the corner on the coals before they get too soggy?"
Dat not bag of potatoes, Comrade. Dat ees Hillary Clinton."
"Oh no! Not another one of your lookalike jokes. We're still laughing about Blue Dress Blitzer from our last visit."
"Dees ees no joke, Comrade. Dees ees da reel deel. Dat ees da crazy beech, herself. A gift from me to you!"
The presidential belly-bumper carefully approached the angry-eyed woman making threatening gurgling noises though a generous amount of duct tape plastered over her otherwise potty mouth.
"Quiet beech," interrupted Vlad with a smirk, "vat does eet matter now?"
"By God, it is Hillary! Holy crap, Vlad. This could get us both in some deep do-do unless you are planing on executing her."
"No need. Crazy beech vill wake up from ecstasy-induced coma in toilet stall of famous Hollywood lesbian dance club. Vat she gonna do? Call cops and say she vas held hostage by Putin and Trump in a Feeneesh sauna?"
"Clever blackmail, Vlad. You Russians really think of all the angles."
"Or, ve could geev crazy beech to Bashar al-Assad. He put Hillary in cage outside Syrian torture chamber. Bashar say, "Either confess or ve feed you naked to crazy beech in cage."
"I sorta like that one, Vlad."
"Maybe ve vote on eet later, Comrade Trumpski?"
Carefully weighing all of his three-dimensional tweeting possibilities, Daffy Quack Quack paused to give this new presidential proposal some serious consideration until Bad Vlad rudely interrupted his fantasies.
"But I have another beeg, beeg surprise. Ve vate a leetle before ve vote."
"I like you, Vlad. You are always full of surprises."
"You inspire me to teenk beeg, Comrade Trumpski.
"I inspire millions and millions of people from around the world, including myself."
"I steel remember some of your crazy sheet from our last meeting."
" Really? I never write anything down, myself. I just tweet it."
"Look, crazy beech making new noises."
"Maybe she wants us to remove the tape from her mouth."
Hillary signaled her agreement by flirtatiously blinking her eyes.
"I wonder what Bill is thinking? It must be nice and quiet for a change in the Hamptons."
"If you no like peece and quiet, remove tape from beech's mouth."
"Do I dare?" Trump cautiously stepped forward, giving Hillary's ear lobe a playful tug. "If you are nice to me, the President of the United States of America might be nice to you."
Furiously blinking her eyes, Hillary shrugged and gurgled something through the duct tape that sounded like, "Okay, okay."
"Maybe ve should dreenk some vodka first and teenk dis over like Russian men, Comrade Trumpski?"
"Yes, a toast to American and Russian friendship."
Hillary gurgled a complaint.
The two towel-clad presidents clinked glasses, pausing meaningfully to stare deeply into each other's eyes before decisively downing their chilled glasses of Mamont.
Blinking her eyes, Hillary gurgled something or other.
To be continued with further updates on this blog post…
*****************************************************
Update #2
Steadying herself, Hillary adjusted her dull brown sauna towel and took a deep breath. "Boys, boys, boys, is all of this really necessary? Are the world's two most brilliant men afraid of a dumpy, old has-been? Seriously."
"Vat deed you do veet dat tape, Comrade Trumpski?"
"Wait a minute Vlad, wait a minute! She just said that we are brilliant."
"Pooty and you are the most brilliant men on the planet, Mr. President. Every school child knows that. Besides that, you are both handsomely imposing figures of world stature. If only I were not such an ugly, wrinkled, old hag."
"See, Pooty? She's coming to her senses."
"I tell you, Comrade, dees crazy beech is dangerous. Be careful, be very careful!"
"Dangerous? Little old me? Why I'm just a girl. I have always admired both of you from head to foot. It was politics that made me say those nasty things about you, Mr. President."
"I understand completely. It's just a little game we play for the dummies sitting at home in front of the television."
"I may even adore one of you, but that is my little secret," coyly added the former First Lady who was appointed Secretary of State for some unknown reason.
Quacky noticed that that little song-and-dance seemed to soothe Putin.
"Take it easy Pooty, she's talking about me."
"You are both my idols. If I were more like either one of you, i would be President of the United States instead of a dumpy old has-been from the Hamptons."
"I thought you were from Chicago."
"That was then, Donald. This is now," she purred kindly, blinking her eyes towards Daffy Quack Quack who waddled a little from side-to-side with this new spotlight of attention.
"Dees ees Feenland, crazy beech, not the Hamptons and I have beeg, beeg plans for all of four us."
"Four of us?" mumbled Quacky to himself, cautiously extending three of his stubby fingers, one-by-one, while surreptitiously surveying the sauna.
"Four of us," repeated Pooty with that demurely dangerous smile.
To be continued with further updates on this blog post...
**********************************************************
Update #3
When Quacky finally finished counting to three on his stubby little fingers, the door opened, allowing a completely naked woman to calmly enter the humidly shrouded sauna of this covert summit between Bad Red Vlad the Pale Impaler and Daffy Quack Quack..
"Really," muttered Hillary at this unexpected interruption from some female competition without even recognizing the once-famous intruder.
"Velkoom, Monica. Velkoom Monica Lewinsky" smiled Pooty endearingly.
"Seriously," snarled Pilloried Hillary. "Monica Lewinsky? Seriously?"
"My kingdom for a cigar," tweeted the man with very, very small hands.
"Veer ees your towel, Darlink?"
"I left it in the shower. Is something the matter? Did I do something wrong?"
"Nothing!" chimed the two Presidents in unison, shaking their heads in total agreement. "Nothing!"
"Seriously?" muttered one dissenting voice.
Vlad calmly placed his arm around the naked Venus breaking out in deliciously tiny beads of female sweat.
"Now ve are all together. Now ve can work on my beeg, beeg idea inspired by the great Comrade Trumpski during our last meeting."
"Every day, I inspire millions and millions of people around the world, including myself," tweeted Quacky in solemn agreement.
Monica smiled rather helplessly. The man with very, very small hands gave her a lascivious wink-wink. Hillary's gaze slowly dribbled down from Monica's breasts to the object of desire of Billy Willy Dilly's Oval Office cigar.
"Last time ve meet, Comrade Trumpski say he return to television with new blockbuster called, "Dancing with the President. He inspire me to teenk beeg."
"Every day, I inspire people around the world to think big, including myself. As we speak, I am thinking big while looking at Monica here," said the man with very, very small hands, giving one of his predecessor's favorite babes another little wink-wink.
"So what's your big, big idea, Pooty?" snarked Hillary, impatiently glancing up from Monica's sweet treat.
"Pooty? That's so cute," sang Monica. Pooty gave Billy Willy Dilly's famous babe a presidential squeeze in the Russian style.
"Our new blockbuster vill be called, 'Dancing with the Presidents.' The world premiere will star this team standing here today, Presidents Trumpski and Putin. Hillary Clinton and Monica Lewinsky. Dees team vill rock it!"
"Wow, that's big Vlad, that's real big. We will rock it, bigly!"
"Bill will eat a jealous hole his dirty underwear," muttered Hillary to herself.
"I tell you I teenk beeg."
"Who will be dancing with whom, Pooty," smiled Monica, giving his sweaty neck an inviting little finger tease.
To be continued on this blog post...
**********************************************************
Update #4
"Listen to me everyone, I'm a television star of galactic magnitude. We have to be thinking of the big climax here. We all know the finale has to be none other than me dancing the sexiest of sexy tangos with Hillary. So obviously, the first competition will be Vlad and Hillary against Monica and me," tweeted the Daffy one.
"I vas teenking along same lines, Comrade Trumpski."
"That's because you're thinking bigly like me."
"Pooty can think bigly with me anytime," purred Miss Monica.
"I'm obviously not a wizard like you guys," interrupted Pilloried Hillary with a very out -of-character sotto voce, "here I was thinking the finale should be Pooty and the Donald dancing belly-to-belly and cheek-to- cheek in their sauna towels. Those politically correct wankers at the New York Times would have hot cheese orgasms over such a happy, gay scenario. Silly me. What was I thinking?"
"Yum!" exalted Miss Monica, "Hot cheese orgasms with pepperoni!"
"Madame Secretary, and here we thought you were the Princess of political correctness?"
"Tell that to the clueless little pricks at The New York Times. I hate those PC bastards. They unelected me with the midwestern working class."
"We finally agree on something, Hillary," smiled Quacky, moving in for a concilatory belly-bump.
"I just love happy endings, don't you, Pooty?" cooed Miss Monica.
July 4, 2018
July 4th Reconsidered
Let us pause for a moment of reflection while America celebrates itself on this July 4th and ignite a few cherry bombs of objectivity in honor of this auspicious day.
How can we celebrate this day without first mentioning President Daffy Quack Quack, Pilloried Hillary, Snoop Dogg Barry Obama, Whacky Bush Doodles, Billy Willy Dilly, Bonzo Gonzo Reagan and Peanuts Carter?
How can we celebrate this day without mentioning two of the greatest war criminals in the 20th century, Lyndon Johnson and Richard Nixon?
How can we celebrate this day without mentioning the wars in Iraq, Afghanistan and Vietnam?
How can we celebrate this day without mentioning Agent Orange that is still poisoning people, fields, forests and rivers in Vietnam?
How can we celebrate this day without mentioning the mini police states of the FBI, the CIA, the NSA, the Secret Service and ICE?
How can we celebrate this day without mentioning the lack of a universal health system such as the one Germany introduced for its citizens back in 1883?
May we humbly ask Messieurs Washington, Franklin, Jefferson, Adams, Jay, Madison and Hamilton, "is this is really what you had in mind? Is it really?"
How can we celebrate this day without first mentioning President Daffy Quack Quack, Pilloried Hillary, Snoop Dogg Barry Obama, Whacky Bush Doodles, Billy Willy Dilly, Bonzo Gonzo Reagan and Peanuts Carter?
How can we celebrate this day without mentioning two of the greatest war criminals in the 20th century, Lyndon Johnson and Richard Nixon?
How can we celebrate this day without mentioning the wars in Iraq, Afghanistan and Vietnam?
How can we celebrate this day without mentioning Agent Orange that is still poisoning people, fields, forests and rivers in Vietnam?
How can we celebrate this day without mentioning the mini police states of the FBI, the CIA, the NSA, the Secret Service and ICE?
How can we celebrate this day without mentioning the lack of a universal health system such as the one Germany introduced for its citizens back in 1883?
May we humbly ask Messieurs Washington, Franklin, Jefferson, Adams, Jay, Madison and Hamilton, "is this is really what you had in mind? Is it really?"
July 2, 2018
President Daffy Quack Quack Offers Limited Amnesty to Certain Illegals
In a surprise announcement celebrating the election of Mexico's Lopez Obrador, President Daffy Quack Quack offered a complicated amnesty to an unspecified number of illegal Mexicans in a curious trade involving PC snowflakes and pajama boys from America's bubble-wrapped suburbs.
The Rose Garden announcement was momentarily delayed after the President's aides complained about the swarms of hornets. Masked swat teams from America's resident mini-police states, the FBI, the CIA, the NSA and ICE, hosed down the flowered area with a secret formula. Several reporters collapsed and were taken away by ambulance before Daffy Quack Quack finally appeared.
"Who says America doesn't need a little Agent Orange now and then?" quipped Quacky. "Thank you, Monsanto. Thank you, Dow Chemical. In spite of my many, many, many, many great successes, these are still troubled times. If we are going to build a wall along the Mexican border we will need competent skills to erect that infrastructure. Quite frankly, due to the misguided education policies of my predecessors, the little, whiney-ass snowflakes and pajama boy gamers from the suburbs have been a too busy twiddling their smart phones and noisy video games to acquire any useful building skills. Therefore, I am offering President Obrador a brilliant, and I mean brilliant, deal. Not only will America trade Mexico 100 snowflakes and pajama boys for every 10 illegal Mexicans with some basic infrastructure skills, we will pay Mexico $100,000 for each one of those useless PC creeps as long as they are kept for at least 10 years. Throw them all in a Tijuana jail for all I care...whatever! Of course, that money has to be used to buy the building materials for my new wall from US suppliers. And my wall will shame the Great Wall of China! My wall will humiliate the Berlin Wall! This is a win-win situation for both America and Mexico. This deal is like magic, if I say so myself. It is brilliant, if I say so myself. It is stunning, if I say so myself! It is pure genius, if I say so myself and I say it , here and now! I say it, loud and clear Thank you, thank you, thank you, Donald Trump!"
The President did not take any questions since the surviving media wankers seemed to be gasping for breath as they collapsed onto the ground.
The Rose Garden announcement was momentarily delayed after the President's aides complained about the swarms of hornets. Masked swat teams from America's resident mini-police states, the FBI, the CIA, the NSA and ICE, hosed down the flowered area with a secret formula. Several reporters collapsed and were taken away by ambulance before Daffy Quack Quack finally appeared.
"Who says America doesn't need a little Agent Orange now and then?" quipped Quacky. "Thank you, Monsanto. Thank you, Dow Chemical. In spite of my many, many, many, many great successes, these are still troubled times. If we are going to build a wall along the Mexican border we will need competent skills to erect that infrastructure. Quite frankly, due to the misguided education policies of my predecessors, the little, whiney-ass snowflakes and pajama boy gamers from the suburbs have been a too busy twiddling their smart phones and noisy video games to acquire any useful building skills. Therefore, I am offering President Obrador a brilliant, and I mean brilliant, deal. Not only will America trade Mexico 100 snowflakes and pajama boys for every 10 illegal Mexicans with some basic infrastructure skills, we will pay Mexico $100,000 for each one of those useless PC creeps as long as they are kept for at least 10 years. Throw them all in a Tijuana jail for all I care...whatever! Of course, that money has to be used to buy the building materials for my new wall from US suppliers. And my wall will shame the Great Wall of China! My wall will humiliate the Berlin Wall! This is a win-win situation for both America and Mexico. This deal is like magic, if I say so myself. It is brilliant, if I say so myself. It is stunning, if I say so myself! It is pure genius, if I say so myself and I say it , here and now! I say it, loud and clear Thank you, thank you, thank you, Donald Trump!"
The President did not take any questions since the surviving media wankers seemed to be gasping for breath as they collapsed onto the ground.
June 29, 2018
The PC Blitzkrieg Scatters Swedish Voters
Well, young grasshoppers, as we all know by now, it was the hysterical PC snowflakes and pajama boys that drove the midwestern working class out of their traditional roost in the Democratic Party and into the arms of Daffy Quack Quack stealing that smug,
PC media-annointed victory from Pilloried Hillary.
In related news, the ongoing PC blitzkrieg across Europe is also taking its toll, especially in dear old, Sweden.
For several generations, Swedish politics have been a balancing act between the Socialists and the various Moderate alliances. A few years ago, the "radical" Swedish Democrats appeared out of nowhere upon the lovely Swedish landscape, railing vociferously against Sweden's open borders and the cultural disrespect paraded daily in the media and academia against traditional family values.
The snowflakes and pajama boys immediately mounted a vicious counter attack 24/7 across all of the (not so) public Swedish forums and just when everyone thought this new menace to the tranquility of a PC lobotomy had been securely contained, the latest poll shows that the Swedish Democrats are now the second largest party in the country, just two percentage points behind the Socialists!!!
https://www.svt.se/nyheter/inrikes/sd...
Who would have thunk it?
Well, this is what happens when you piss off working class families. This is what happens when you disparage the traditional values of the working class that adds value to all goods and services.
Say, are not those always-on-the-march-with-their-red banners Socialists supposed to represent that working class? That was then and this is now.
Like the US Democrats, the Socialists have become more PC than working class. Goodbye Marx! Hello Snoop Dogg Barry Obama.
Worry not, young Svenska grasshoppers, when democracy gets old and tired it demands a little chaos to refresh itself.
PC media-annointed victory from Pilloried Hillary.
In related news, the ongoing PC blitzkrieg across Europe is also taking its toll, especially in dear old, Sweden.
For several generations, Swedish politics have been a balancing act between the Socialists and the various Moderate alliances. A few years ago, the "radical" Swedish Democrats appeared out of nowhere upon the lovely Swedish landscape, railing vociferously against Sweden's open borders and the cultural disrespect paraded daily in the media and academia against traditional family values.
The snowflakes and pajama boys immediately mounted a vicious counter attack 24/7 across all of the (not so) public Swedish forums and just when everyone thought this new menace to the tranquility of a PC lobotomy had been securely contained, the latest poll shows that the Swedish Democrats are now the second largest party in the country, just two percentage points behind the Socialists!!!
https://www.svt.se/nyheter/inrikes/sd...
Who would have thunk it?
Well, this is what happens when you piss off working class families. This is what happens when you disparage the traditional values of the working class that adds value to all goods and services.
Say, are not those always-on-the-march-with-their-red banners Socialists supposed to represent that working class? That was then and this is now.
Like the US Democrats, the Socialists have become more PC than working class. Goodbye Marx! Hello Snoop Dogg Barry Obama.
Worry not, young Svenska grasshoppers, when democracy gets old and tired it demands a little chaos to refresh itself.
June 28, 2018
Supremely Underwhelming
Just when Bonjour Amigos thought that the daily fire fights between the blustery President Daffy Quack Quack and the adolescent PC media spank-wankers could not possibly get more hilarious, Justice Kennedy has announced his retirement from the Supreme Court, tipping the court one more vote in favor of a conservative majority.
The Senate has promised a confirmation vote on Quack Quack's nominee this autumn. This will not be a Senate hearing. This debate will be an endless interrogation on one topic and one topic only.
Butter the popcorn, Mama, we are about to witness an historic screaming match between the PC pajama boys and Daffy Quack Quack over whether or not an abortion is truly a blessing upon a woman's immortal soul.
Could there ever be two sides so ill-equipped to wrestle with a matter of such gravity?
On one side we will have the hysterical PC snowflakes and pajama boys backed-up 24/7 by the high-pitched chorus of pompous media wankers while on the other side, we will have Daffy Quack Quack who brings to this weighty argument all of the intellectual acuity of a real estate trust-funder punk and boob tube reality star.
Given the character of the combatants, this historic duel promises to have all of the intellectual velocity of a water balloon bombardment.
In all fairness, we must also give consideration to the quality of the target audience. America does sport the largest population of over-forty adolescents on the small planet earth.
Butter the popcorn, Mama! This is going to be very, very hilarious and very, very loud and and very, very pretentious and very, very silly!
The Senate has promised a confirmation vote on Quack Quack's nominee this autumn. This will not be a Senate hearing. This debate will be an endless interrogation on one topic and one topic only.
Butter the popcorn, Mama, we are about to witness an historic screaming match between the PC pajama boys and Daffy Quack Quack over whether or not an abortion is truly a blessing upon a woman's immortal soul.
Could there ever be two sides so ill-equipped to wrestle with a matter of such gravity?
On one side we will have the hysterical PC snowflakes and pajama boys backed-up 24/7 by the high-pitched chorus of pompous media wankers while on the other side, we will have Daffy Quack Quack who brings to this weighty argument all of the intellectual acuity of a real estate trust-funder punk and boob tube reality star.
Given the character of the combatants, this historic duel promises to have all of the intellectual velocity of a water balloon bombardment.
In all fairness, we must also give consideration to the quality of the target audience. America does sport the largest population of over-forty adolescents on the small planet earth.
Butter the popcorn, Mama! This is going to be very, very hilarious and very, very loud and and very, very pretentious and very, very silly!
June 20, 2018
About Those Sneaky Mexicans...
Dear President Daffy Quack Quack,
I see that your administration is separating families illegally crossing the border with Mexico from their children. You are obviously a silly little duck who is not afraid of being compared to those nasty Nazis that rounded up Jewish families for deportation to the concentration camps.
Oh well, Quack Quack, you are probably just a few steps away from that holocaust thing, but may I offer a dissenting voice in the middle of your ongoing border-wars game?
Personally, if I were wanting to complete any infrastructure requiring manual labor and building skills, I would gladly trade you 100 snowflakes and pajama boys from our bubble-wrapped suburbs for 10 sneaky Mexicans, legal or otherwise. That’s 100 snowflakes and pajama boys for 10 sneaky Mexicans, all day/ every day.
Gracias and Bonjour Amigios!
I see that your administration is separating families illegally crossing the border with Mexico from their children. You are obviously a silly little duck who is not afraid of being compared to those nasty Nazis that rounded up Jewish families for deportation to the concentration camps.
Oh well, Quack Quack, you are probably just a few steps away from that holocaust thing, but may I offer a dissenting voice in the middle of your ongoing border-wars game?
Personally, if I were wanting to complete any infrastructure requiring manual labor and building skills, I would gladly trade you 100 snowflakes and pajama boys from our bubble-wrapped suburbs for 10 sneaky Mexicans, legal or otherwise. That’s 100 snowflakes and pajama boys for 10 sneaky Mexicans, all day/ every day.
Gracias and Bonjour Amigios!
June 13, 2018
Let Us Now Praise Famous Censors
Let us now take a moment to praise famous censors.
Political censors may appear to be slightly different, but they all belong to the same family regardless of whether they are Nazis, Communist apparatchiks or PC snowflakes and pajama boys or, even some Goodreads contributors, for that matter.
Censors are censors. They are all brothers and sisters. They are all little fascists dancing a lonely, pornographic tango with themselves in a suffocating, mirrored cubicle.
Currently, the PC spank-wanking censors are a particularly amusing specie with their fancy panties all bunched-up over President Daffy Quack Quack.
The PC spank wankers do not like to be reminded that they are almost solely responsible for putting that blowhard, boob tube bubble-head, Mr. Daffy Quack Quack, into the highest office in the land.
The utterly corrupt, Pilloried Hillary, would have won the electoral college with any three of the midwestern states that surprisingly jumped the jagged fence of infallible polling predictions to crawl into the stinky, wet bed with Donald Trump.
What the hell happened?
It was the eight years of unrelenting PC hysterics championed daily during the bong-headed Snoop Dogg Barry Obama, blessed be His name, regime that drove the beer drinking, midwestern working class out of the Democratic Party, where it had taken up a comfortable residency for over half-a-century, and into the waiting wings of that crazy Daffy Quack Quack.
The American working class, that adds value to all goods and services, absolutely despises the PC'ers mendacious insistence that they and their children conform to the howling screed of the warped PC catechism relentlessly preached by every little evangelical snowflake and pajama boy gliding out of the bubble-wrapped suburbs on their skateboards while thumb-twiddling their smart phones. Give it a rest!
So take a bow snowflakes and pajamas boys! You did it! You insulted the traditional values of the working class families and drove them out of the Democratic Party in hordes. You elected Donald Trump. Why are you so shy about your accomplishment? It was an historic upset!
Well, the shy little PC snowflakes and pajama boys despise Daffy Quack Quack and do not like to be reminded of their historic role of putting that squatting duck into his nest in the Oval Office.
Consequently, the PC censors do what censors have always done. They reach out for their Holy eraser and try to purify history wherever its sticks up its ugly head and cries out with some objectivity.
Communists, Nazis and PC'ers are never comfortable with history unless they can edit it to suit the Party's perverted narrative.
Thus, America's PC snowflakes and pajama boys feel duty bound to erase any unpleasant reminder, including a random Goodreads comment, of their embarrassing collaboration with Donald Trump, from the annals of history.
Censors will be censors and fascist collaborators, even perverted, clueless Goodreads ones, will be fascist collaborators.
Political censors may appear to be slightly different, but they all belong to the same family regardless of whether they are Nazis, Communist apparatchiks or PC snowflakes and pajama boys or, even some Goodreads contributors, for that matter.
Censors are censors. They are all brothers and sisters. They are all little fascists dancing a lonely, pornographic tango with themselves in a suffocating, mirrored cubicle.
Currently, the PC spank-wanking censors are a particularly amusing specie with their fancy panties all bunched-up over President Daffy Quack Quack.
The PC spank wankers do not like to be reminded that they are almost solely responsible for putting that blowhard, boob tube bubble-head, Mr. Daffy Quack Quack, into the highest office in the land.
The utterly corrupt, Pilloried Hillary, would have won the electoral college with any three of the midwestern states that surprisingly jumped the jagged fence of infallible polling predictions to crawl into the stinky, wet bed with Donald Trump.
What the hell happened?
It was the eight years of unrelenting PC hysterics championed daily during the bong-headed Snoop Dogg Barry Obama, blessed be His name, regime that drove the beer drinking, midwestern working class out of the Democratic Party, where it had taken up a comfortable residency for over half-a-century, and into the waiting wings of that crazy Daffy Quack Quack.
The American working class, that adds value to all goods and services, absolutely despises the PC'ers mendacious insistence that they and their children conform to the howling screed of the warped PC catechism relentlessly preached by every little evangelical snowflake and pajama boy gliding out of the bubble-wrapped suburbs on their skateboards while thumb-twiddling their smart phones. Give it a rest!
So take a bow snowflakes and pajamas boys! You did it! You insulted the traditional values of the working class families and drove them out of the Democratic Party in hordes. You elected Donald Trump. Why are you so shy about your accomplishment? It was an historic upset!
Well, the shy little PC snowflakes and pajama boys despise Daffy Quack Quack and do not like to be reminded of their historic role of putting that squatting duck into his nest in the Oval Office.
Consequently, the PC censors do what censors have always done. They reach out for their Holy eraser and try to purify history wherever its sticks up its ugly head and cries out with some objectivity.
Communists, Nazis and PC'ers are never comfortable with history unless they can edit it to suit the Party's perverted narrative.
Thus, America's PC snowflakes and pajama boys feel duty bound to erase any unpleasant reminder, including a random Goodreads comment, of their embarrassing collaboration with Donald Trump, from the annals of history.
Censors will be censors and fascist collaborators, even perverted, clueless Goodreads ones, will be fascist collaborators.
January 19, 2018
Bestowing Shame and Dishonor Upon One Billion Catholics
We are well into the SECOND generation of the Catholic clergy and Vatican hierarchy bringing shame and dishonor upon the worldwide laity. Recently, a promising Pontiff has cast his lot in with the offenders.
http://www.bbc.com/news/world-latin-a...
https://www.bostonglobe.com/metro/201...
I filed a complaint with the Vatican's Congregation for the Laity over pedophiliac Cardinal Law's Vatican funeral. Not surprisingly, I never received a direct reply. Instead, all Catholics received a reply from Pope Francis himself, when he defended Chile's pedophile Father Fernando Karadima and his protector, Bishop Juan Barros.
Very soon, Catholicism will be entering its third generation of Vatican goons covering up for pedophile priests, Bishops and Cardinals.
The universal Catholic family is weary of this shame and dishonor. When is enough, enough?
http://www.bbc.com/news/world-latin-a...
https://www.bostonglobe.com/metro/201...
I filed a complaint with the Vatican's Congregation for the Laity over pedophiliac Cardinal Law's Vatican funeral. Not surprisingly, I never received a direct reply. Instead, all Catholics received a reply from Pope Francis himself, when he defended Chile's pedophile Father Fernando Karadima and his protector, Bishop Juan Barros.
Very soon, Catholicism will be entering its third generation of Vatican goons covering up for pedophile priests, Bishops and Cardinals.
The universal Catholic family is weary of this shame and dishonor. When is enough, enough?
January 15, 2018
Dear President Quack Quack
I read books. I have not been to a movie theater in a long, long time. I believe "Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World," was the last flick I saw in a theater.
Since I am a poker player, a dear, old friend of mine who had an interesting Hollywood career back in the days of Carey Grant, Ingrid Bergman, Grace Kelly, Jimmy Stewart, Clark Gable and Orson Welles and who is one of the very few living souls outside of my family whose opinions I universally respect, literally insisted that I see the movie, "Molly's Game."
I was vaguely familiar with the background story of Molly Bloom, the underground poker princess, from the NY newspapers and various online poker sites. I had some errands in the neighborhood of a cinema showing the flick and I had not had a bag of buttered popcorn in ages. Okay. Why not? It was the buttered popcorn that sealed the deal.
Never again. I will never again set foot in an American movie theater.
No, this has nothing to do with "Molly's Game." It was an excellent movie. The acting was superb. The directing was intelligently restrained. The screenplay even had an air of sophistication unseen since the 50's and 60's when American screenwriters still had some Broadway connections.
I highly recommend this movie based on a true story. It is a character study of a resilient young woman, a former Olympian, and you need not know diddly squat about poker to savor it.
My complaint is the imbecilic previews for upcoming attractions that took the audience hostage for almost twenty minutes. There were at least eight them. Eight blaring, shouting, shit-for-brains previews of shit-for-brains movies targeting an audience with shit for brains while degrading, demeaning and insulting the dignity of anyone with a shred of intelligence for twenty unmerciful minutes…in the dark!
This is Hollywood. This is the average IQ of America's millennials. They feed off one another. Hollywood and millennials. The millennials and Hollywood.
Dear President Quack Quack, if you want to know the truth, Hollywood is the "shit hole country" America should be most concerned about. Quick, build a wall or something!
BTW - It should come as no surprise whatsoever that in a recent PISA student assessment of 35 OECD countries, this target audience, these snowflake and pajama boy grandchildren of the pugnacious people who landed a man on the moon, scored 20th in reading, 19th in science and 31st in math out of...must I remind you so soon? 35 OECD nations.
The Hollywood ditch pigs certainly know a target audience, don't they?
BTW-BTW Does not President Quack Quack owe much of his celebrity status to this shit hole country called Hollywood?
Oh! BTW! BTW! BTW! The buttered popcorn really rocked!
Since I am a poker player, a dear, old friend of mine who had an interesting Hollywood career back in the days of Carey Grant, Ingrid Bergman, Grace Kelly, Jimmy Stewart, Clark Gable and Orson Welles and who is one of the very few living souls outside of my family whose opinions I universally respect, literally insisted that I see the movie, "Molly's Game."
I was vaguely familiar with the background story of Molly Bloom, the underground poker princess, from the NY newspapers and various online poker sites. I had some errands in the neighborhood of a cinema showing the flick and I had not had a bag of buttered popcorn in ages. Okay. Why not? It was the buttered popcorn that sealed the deal.
Never again. I will never again set foot in an American movie theater.
No, this has nothing to do with "Molly's Game." It was an excellent movie. The acting was superb. The directing was intelligently restrained. The screenplay even had an air of sophistication unseen since the 50's and 60's when American screenwriters still had some Broadway connections.
I highly recommend this movie based on a true story. It is a character study of a resilient young woman, a former Olympian, and you need not know diddly squat about poker to savor it.
My complaint is the imbecilic previews for upcoming attractions that took the audience hostage for almost twenty minutes. There were at least eight them. Eight blaring, shouting, shit-for-brains previews of shit-for-brains movies targeting an audience with shit for brains while degrading, demeaning and insulting the dignity of anyone with a shred of intelligence for twenty unmerciful minutes…in the dark!
This is Hollywood. This is the average IQ of America's millennials. They feed off one another. Hollywood and millennials. The millennials and Hollywood.
Dear President Quack Quack, if you want to know the truth, Hollywood is the "shit hole country" America should be most concerned about. Quick, build a wall or something!
BTW - It should come as no surprise whatsoever that in a recent PISA student assessment of 35 OECD countries, this target audience, these snowflake and pajama boy grandchildren of the pugnacious people who landed a man on the moon, scored 20th in reading, 19th in science and 31st in math out of...must I remind you so soon? 35 OECD nations.
The Hollywood ditch pigs certainly know a target audience, don't they?
BTW-BTW Does not President Quack Quack owe much of his celebrity status to this shit hole country called Hollywood?
Oh! BTW! BTW! BTW! The buttered popcorn really rocked!
January 9, 2018
Time for Reflection
Read each name carefully and then pause one beat:
George W. Bush...Barack Hussein Obama...Hillary Clinton...Donald Trump...and now...Oprah! ...
My sincere condolences Messieurs Washington, Franklin, Jefferson, Adams, Jay, Madison and Hamilton... I am not making this shit up! I swear!
George W. Bush...Barack Hussein Obama...Hillary Clinton...Donald Trump...and now...Oprah! ...
My sincere condolences Messieurs Washington, Franklin, Jefferson, Adams, Jay, Madison and Hamilton... I am not making this shit up! I swear!
