I Can Haz Shortwave Radio Nao?

Mr. Grain posed a puzzler.

Per Alex Jones, President Blackenstein had a Judge offed. TenGrain is holding a small collective creational Kaffeklatch to figure out how. This aggression cannot stand.

Thus, I posit this.

President Obama put his PLAN into place shortly before New Years with a diversion in Oregon. Special Raptorforce Agent Ritzheimer, J., put the ouija-board pieces in place, then, informing his pawns that there had been a contrail sighting at the Jade Helm Camp Alphabits and his presence was required, he headed for Texas.

Wearing his issued Hyperthelegic Duck-aticion Inviso-foot Caster, he snuck 4 cases of Megovaltine into the Palatial Patriotic Palace and Pyoluretic Podiatrics Practice in Paris, Texas, where the Council on Fraternal Relations was having its annual epistemic closure.

On Friday night, the ELF receiver implanted in Deep Stage Agent Ritzenwollenstein (his actual name, and a lot of good men died horribly of Samoan Cunnilingusboarding to get that information) gave the go signal, three short brrrrrts and a beep. He turned on his negroidizer to blend in with the staff, and upon Shadow Chief Justice Scalia’s page requesting a warm milk and two small pre-punctured children, entered the moratorium, where Scalia had already spread plastic, making the agent’s job even just that much more pleasant.

Pulling his gauss gun, he quickly injected electromorphins in the judge’s chest region. Placing the gun in the hand of one of the, by now, rather sloppy children, knowing that in doing this, the mainstream of the party would blame Scalia’s passing on age and the continuing presence of America’s Funniest Home Videos on many Fox affiliates, the Agent tapped the transmitter stitched to his prostate, announcing the deed had been done, and bit down on his thermite molar.

Rich Snots Behaving 'Orribly

Apropo of nothing...

This is the third time I've watched some of Downton Abbey with mah Sweetie. I don't like it, not one damn bit. These are the people the guillotine was invented for. But I must say:

It occurs to me, the Head Butler is as awful a human being as the rich hemophiliacs living in the larger bedrooms. In a perfect world, I'd have one more basket ready.

Just saying.

The Jon Swift Memorial Round Up Is Out

From batocchio, doing the work of the the angels, or more entertaining devils, the Jon Swift Memorial Roundup is out. I've already read about a half a dozen, some great stuff. Give those folks some love and linkage!

#jonswift2015

Disclosure: I submitted, one of my more vicious posts, maybe not the right one, but I went for the snark.

There Is Something Wrong On Teh Internet

I, a mere paleo, have busted the mighty Wonkerados on an inaccuracy! This aggression will not stand, man!

In a post about some talibangelical football coach in Washington State, they posted the famed, and I would call faked, photograph of Jesus in his sportsball days.






















"'Faked', you say, paleo? Balderdash!"

Dash your own balls, please. I have the original photo.

QEmofookinD, bitches.

In Which paleo Finds The Muse Of Poetry

I saw my psychic this morning. I was hoping to find my Grannie Erma's famed cache of filberts, as I'm a bit peckish. (Not especially in a mood to drive to Wisconsin, but then, my decision making goes to hell when I need to suck down some nuts.)

Lo and begoddamhold, I inhabited the thrice virginal Brisket (h/t Tengrain's never-out-of-the-shrinkwrap menagerie of loonies) Palin. 

She was reflective, diarizing, having Tripp help her with her multiplication tables. But she then, mindlessly doodling, wrote this:

The Northern Lights shine
Above my ankles, glowing
Fuck, is he done yet?

Wow. I... Beautiful.

And then I bought some Combos.