Prez Dunce felled by Sir Colbert
Across the kingdom, the maidens cry, “ Sir surColbert is rare, is fair. We care!”
Prezident Dunce squats leeringly over the Land loosing bolts of Dunce Flatulence like bulletins from the bowels, messages from the Dunce Gut, smoke signals from .. well, you know. They blundered, then they plundered, and the Land lay bereft, baffled, its noble name besmirched, flagrantly befouled.
Unarmored but not unarmed, our champion, Sir Stephen surColbert, in the face of the most damnable danger, stood his ground, stood our ground. It was sursurreal.
Calling upon the shade of Sir GoodLuck Murrow, Sir surColbert des Ouefs with mad aplomb sent forth his shafts to smote Prez Dunce who was so deep in fell falsehoods that he looked utterly besmattered, completely encrusted with the droppings of the great leathery-winged DownRightLiesOndor Bird.
As tiny a target as was the small hard little heart and narrow mind of Prez Dunce, these precious shafts tipped with curare-grade Irony sped to fiercely pierce the bloated hubris and rot of contumely (the telltale thin-lipped sneer) to snick him where he lived, to draw his thin, mucus-colored blood.
Brave brave Sir surColbert lanced the disgusting National Boil, an operation that took <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />23:48. 23 seconds & 48 seconds. Blessings be showered upon you like a golden rain, citizen Colbert.
BC indeed, Before Colbert. After 4/29, after then we were never the same again. It wasn’t a sword what freed us, it was The Word.
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'He stands on things, air craft carriers, rubble, recently-flooded city squares; Stand on banks of computers & send men into battle;14 black bulletproof SUVs; mesquite-powered car; Monday Wednesday, Tuesday; glass 2/3 empty; 68% approve of the job you’re not doing; Doubting Thomas; Eat salad with a spoon; Don’t let generals retire; shoot me in the face; Intrepid reporter book = fiction. He stands on things, America’s crises resolved by the most powerfully staged photo ops in the world.’ Words won. ’Twas words what won. Not gun powder, but wit powder. Fractal entendre. Obsidian humor.
Against Irony, the Secret Service had no plan nor guard. Sir surColbert was the sleekest stealthiest of all possible moles – an invited dinner guest for all national tv to see. At the head table eating what? chicken breast (oh immortal fowl)? raspberry sorbet? haute chic no doubt. Who knew that in moments, the comic magnetic field, the Irony core of Earth, would flip poles?
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7 Serpent . Chicchan . East . tzolkin 83 05.12.06 fri
984 days/2y8m08d left
the education-obsessed world begins today with you ..
.. let’s spend the $820,000 per minute Military Budget on education instead