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political satire

At least one patriotic citizen in Shaggy Butte understands what needs to be done now that Obama and his liberal legions are finally in a position to destroy America:

I intend to ramp up my campaign of public protest to levels of unprecedented effectiveness. If I am shopping in a grocery store that accepts food stamps, I will exclaim my full-throated disgust at anyone within earshot (I am still investigating whether my state allows "open carry" of megaphones, so one day I might reach moochers well beyond earshot). I will boycott any store that does not accept payment in either bullion, Bitcoins or my own gold-backed "Liberty Bucks." If I am forced to use American cash money, I will register my disgust with the Treasury Department by crumpling my bills unflatteringly.

 

- As of this moment, I will be "Going Galt" in my personal businesses. If I cannot operate within a just free-market business climate, I will scale back my ventures to deprive the nation of my productivity. I hope liberal America starves without access to my clever conservative buttons and customized libertarian Warhammer miniatures.

...More >>

The sun came out blazing today. I mean, it’s hot everyday, but today it’s been brutal, and since no one has air conditioning anymore, it can be lethal. The pool is the only option to cool off, and for many, it’s literally life saving.

On my way back from the hardware store in yet another failed attempt to buy an AC window unit, drenched in sweat, melting with every step I took, I considered going to the pool myself. But when I approached, the lines stretched past my scope of vision, so I decided against it. Plus it’s expensive, and while many people’s jobs supplement the cost of the pool pass, I work for myself (never took well to having a boss, so I became my own). I'd have to pay sticker price for the pass. I’m relatively young and in shape, and the heat ain’t gonna kill me, so I opted out of a dip in the pool.

But as I passed the entrance, a cop stopped me. “You gotta pay here to get into the pool,” he demanded.

“Oh, that’s alright officer, I’m not gonna get in. It’s hot and all, but I don’t have to go swimming,...More >>

We all suspected it, but the truth is far more flamboyant than we ever realized.More >>

The Clash of the Titans is reclassified as The Compromise of the Titans. Wrath of the Titans is downgraded to Irritability of same. If required there will be a Mass Layoff of the Titans.

The release of the Kraken is indefinitely postponed.

Henceforth, all Minotaur functions will be performed by Satyrs. Satyr duties shall be carried out by Nymphs. Dryads will be fired, then re-hired at a lower wage.

The Oracle of Delphi's prophecies, going forward, are now warrantied for just 60 days, and then only on major components.

All wooden horses are hereby de-staffed.

Odysseys must be pre-approved by Ms Penelope in Human Resources. Expense claims for magical transformation and / or Cyclops attack now require both invoices and receipts.

The Three Fates now share Two Jobs. There are 6.75 Muses. The gate to the Underworld is guarded by a one-headed dog. The Ferryman only accepts drachmas, and cannot make change.

The Spartan budget is unchanged. Stoic philosophers however are advised to brace themselves. The Socratic Method will be replaced by a brief multiple-choice quiz. All hemlock requisitions shall be fulfilled in rhubarb.

Achilles has to work overtime like everybody else.

Zeus agrees to a 25% voltage cut, with...More >>

Gunter Grass, the elderly German novelist and former Waffen-SS inductee, raised eyebrows recently with a controversial poem criticising Israeli foreign policy. The Propagandist’s crack team of investigative (literary) journalists began delving into the affair immediately, and have now submitted their conclusions. Unfortunately, they are obvious.

First, they say, Germany and Israel seem to have some kinda crazy history/ background/ story thing goin’ on. Secondly, for chrissakes, who but a German writes a poem about foreign policy? Thirdly, the following excerpts from other Grass poetry on Judeo-MidEast themes seem to reveal a certain... ambivalence on the subject.


I think that I shall never see
A poem as homely as Tel Aviv.
Poems are made by fools like me,
Poetry that analyses foreign policy
Which in German is called Poesituttheingotfermechten...


… Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falconer cannot hear Golda Meir.


Roses are red,
UN helmets are blue.
Palestinians love their children,
Don’t you?


A drop of water
Sighs. Uphold Resolution
338-A, ja?

Profileration’s
Just awful, like some flowers
In the attic, or not.

Cloud over Tehran
Spells out, please quit it with the
Bomb menacings, Jews.

(--...More >>

The tiny Asian kingdom of Bhutan, known by some as The Mouse That Prattled, is the main source of the notion of Gross National Happiness. This is best summarised as the idea that economists should attempt to count the uncountable; its proponents, typically of a leftish cast, appear to consider “money isn’t everything” a truly innovative idea.

Why stop there? What about...

OTHER CONCEIVABLY IMPORTANT ECONOMIC INDICES

Gross National Bitterness: An important dataset which considers the annual number of sneers, eye-rolls, and pooh-poohings in a given population.

Consumptive Confidence Index: Measures buying intentions among 19th-century poets who are dying of tuberculosis.

Housing Non-Starters: Count of households unwilling to consider Xander and his python as potential roommates.

Bhutanese Trade Balance: Indicator of the amount of misery Bhutan must import to achieve parity with its happiness exports.

NASDAQ: Nearly All Software, Dude; Any Questions?

EBITDA: Considers the economic status of the mean old lady who lives above the dollar store and whose name is possibly Croatian.

Gross National Confusion: Measure of a population’s ability to understand economic indicators; potentially unreliable.

National Indifference Index: Counts the number of friends made by Bhutanese economists at any given party;...More >>

Ever on the cutting edge of Canadian federal politics, the Propagandist dispatched intrepid cub reporter Lyle Neff to Stornoway recently to interview an important new figure on the parliamentary scene: NDP leader Thomas Mulcair's celebrated facial hair.

THE PROPAGANDIST. So, Thomas Mulcair’s beard.  You’ve recently experienced a burst of new growth.

THOMAS MULCAIR’S BEARD. Why yes, thanks. It was a tough leadership contest. Very hairy for a while there.

THE PROP. Not to mention your party’s spurt in Quebec at the last election.

THOS. MULCAIR’S BEARD (visibly bristling). You sure you want to use that language?

THE PROP. No need to be prickly, sir. We just want to know why people feel so warm and fuzzy about you.

TCB.  Well. It all started with my idea to trim the policy committ--

THE PROP.  Wait. Sorry to interrupt, Thomas Mulcair’s beard. My editor insists on speaking to-- Jon? What can it be? Wait. Calm down! You say -- (lengthy pause)

TCB. Oh, this is intoler--

THE PROP (laughs). Horrible! Close shave indeed! Thanks Jon, I’ll ask him now. (audibly tents fingers) So... Thomas Mulcair’s beard.  Seems there’s a whisker of suspicion about your campaign tactics. Something about... free moustache waxings in...More >>

VANCOUVER - Remembering the 1997 Blanche Royal Commission on the Status of Translucent-Canadians, Anemia Wan grows pale with anger. “That report solved nothing,” says the White Rock-based albinism activist, a past president of Albinos From Nanaimo:  “It was a total whitewash.”

Over a bowl of White Spot chowder, Wan is reflecting on her three decades’ advocacy for the Canadian unpigmented. “In this supposedly colour-blind society,” she notes, “we albinos are a nearly-invisible minority.”  

Wan, 38, says the controversial Earl’s human-rights case, wherein the restaurant chain stands accused of selling albino-themed food, proves that pro-pallidness campaigners can’t give up. “What are we supposed to do,” she asks, “just stand on equality’s battlefield, waving some kind of defeat flag? We albinos refuse to be the missing pieces of the cultural mosaic.” 

Wan’s own life suggests that, if it’s hard to be white in rainbow Canada, it’s harder to be whiter. Raised in the village of Snowball, Ontario, of mixed African-Asian and Algonquin-Scots heritage, she remembers the childhood embarassment of attending weekend ECHL hockey games, carrying her prescription parasol. The home team’s name? The Whiteout. 

“Their goalie was black, and so were their home uniforms,”...More >>

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