Wednesday, July 25, 2007
"Our Beloved Sovereign"
As you can see your beloved Emperor is well, and in good humor. Despite the best efforts of the enemies of truth, justice, and the American Way! Ha! I say to them. Indeed ha! again. Our free, and just realm has survived.
Also as I say below all of our sacred archives are safe for future generations to study. All is well. Let us take this opportunity to build our Blogsphere Royal Republic anew!
Btw note your beloved sovereign giving our naughty "Astro Boy" a right dressing down,...so to speak. This for getting the whole realm in trouble with that perverted orgy he had with his cousin the other day on the Royal "Inkplum" page!
(Sez Uncle Walt,..."Oh Astro you what 'am' I gonna with you?)
Now look what you've done! You, and your nasty cousin Jiro had yourselves a Queer orgy! You little perverts was fuck'n, and suck'n all over the place where the "Sex Police" could see you!
This after I paid them off to forget that 'other' thing you two horny hudlums did. You had yourselves all sorts of sinful fun with "Muffin" that donkey puppet didn't you! Lets not forget the electric dildo, that can of Crisco, and "Ken" from the Barbie dulux playset. ...and ya's did it 'all' on the front lawn where all the neighbors could see!
Bad boy! Nasty Bad Boys!
You Just wait till I get you home. I'm gonna warm your little pink behind good! When your pervert cousin gets home from Ninja school he's getting the same! Now get in the car. I've a good mind to call your step father Dr. Elephant.
Oh the shame!
(Click on all photos to enlarge'em.)
Here's some nice naked people. Ladies, and lovely youths for you to honor with thoughtful meditations.
(Right,...everyone okay? Good, now on with the rest of the blog.)
(Below is a fun little story about the Tribulation during the soon to come End Times. Enjoy.)
It was a dark, and stormy night my phone rang. It was Satan again. He wanted to know if I had the "merchandise?" "Yes!" I said for the tenth time that day, and hung up. What's the big deal I thought. One priceless severed head of a Pope is as good as another. Still I can't blame da "Prince'a Darkness" for be'n nervous. Especially after what happened to him the last time he went toe to toe with the "Big Guy" upstairs.
My TV turned itself on, and a simulacrum of a young Harry Truman appeared. He was wearing a geisha outfit, and had a rosebud smile on his pouting lips. "Oh Uncle" She purred. "You know this isn't wise", she/he said in Meiji upper caste Japanese. "There's still time." "Heavens Leviathans are still chaseing their ample tails."
"Give Purgatory that fools head, and we'll call it even." Crap! I threw a Stuben figurine of Amy Goodman through the screen. Who could have imagined that the fate of the multiverse would depend on a hasbeen radio announcer, and the rancid head of an ex-Pope.
Traffic was backed up on the Jerry Lewis Memorial Bridge. My skate'n to 'Jersey plan was go'n seriously south. Homeland Security had gone nuts, and was strip searching everybody try'n to get out of town. They wanted that "Head", and they wanted it bad!
My options was dry'n up faster than the Pacific Ocean. Which was just the first plague. One down ten to go. It was time to call in some "markers." I took off my glass rollerblades hailed a peddle-cab, and was biked over to Sutton Place,..the new homeless encampment.
Boy, "New York, New York, a Hella'va Town." All the more so now that Satan, and his bully boys was in City Hall. Still things ain't changed 'that' much. Houseing was unaffordable, the schools sucked, it was too hot, and ya could get shanked in da kidneys for your shoelaces after dark.
I paid the "undead" cabbie with cats eye marbles, the only solid currency these days. I climbed off the yellow tricycle, and joined the ragged shellshocked mob as they shuffled by. I did my best to look inconspicuous. Not easy what with me still wear'n my Gay Gaucho outfit, don't ask, and carry'n a large Kentucky Fried Chicken bucket under my arm.
Yeah that's where I keep it.
I reach's my destination with only minor incidents. Former yuppies begg'n for forgiveness, and fuck'n Jehovah's Witness's. Frigg'n end'a the world, and they're still get'n on peoples nerves.
Anyhow I knocks on the steel plated door of a fortified "Starbucks." A little slot opens'n someone eyes me up'n down. The door suddenly slides back, and I'm stare'n down the muzzle of an AK-47 expertly held by a 13 year old girl.
She wasn't smile'n.
"Eh,..the Cardinal in?" I politely asks.
"You the Head Man?" Replies little snake eyes.
"The same." "Tell ya boss I gots the "Original Recipe", and I'm here to talk turkey." "Ya might also mention my home movies of his indisgressions at a certain boy scout jamboree." "I think he'll want to see me."
Short Pockets lets me in, and goes to fetch her master. While I'm wait'n I makes myself at home. 'Always liked Starbucks, and these days it's the only place ya can still get a cherry coke,..uncut! Yeah looks like the "Cardinal's" do'n okay for himself. He's got the major food groups covered,..loose shoes, tight pussy, and a warm place to shit. Not bad.
I was just knock'n back my third "Cuba Libre", and watch'n a bunch'a drunken batwinged demons abduct a crowded crosstown bus into a mini blackhole when the Cardinal stumbled in. I had apparently interuppted his meditations with Saint Angel Dust. Hey who could blame'em the "Tribulations" haven't exactly been a barrel of laffs for anybody.
"So Uncle, you're still alive." His eminence hissed. "That is unfortunate."
"Well I'm glad ta see you too." I sez put'n on my altar boy with fresh jizz on his lips face."
"Is that him?" Eye'n my "Colonel Sanders" box.
"Have a look" I tell g-ds ex-civil servant. "He likes visitors."
The Cardinal who btw was in full drag, miter, robes, ring, hooked staff the works popped open the bucket. The Vicar of you know who on Urth stared up, and blinked at the sudden light.
"He don't say much" I said,.."seems when they did the deed in Mecca they cut'em above the vocal cords." They don't like their victims talk'n. Bad for business or something.
Ya know the final day's is just full'a interesting sights. The "Statue'a Liberty" recite'n from the Torah, talking fish, and the "undead" re-register'n to vote. But I must admit I getz a kick out'a watch'n the faithful meet'n their underboss. Which is to say 'the' Pope.
The last in a line that started with St. Peter or Mary of Magdeline. Depending on which one ya believe. I remember the both of 'em have'n it out on "Letterman" talk about ya blooper reel! Anyhow the Cardinal was get'n an eyeful. I can only guess at what his former-holiness was think'n.
While still enraptured with the sight of the pontiff's head in a fried chicken box the Cardinal asked.
"What do you want?"
"Who me or ya pal 'extra-crispy' in there?"
His Eminence looked up ashen faced from clear evidence of the 'end' of Faith as we knew it , and said.."You don't fear for your immortal soul?"
"It's in a safe place, but let's get to it." "I wanna ticket out'a town, and a safe conduct pass to the Angelic frontlines."
He smerked,.."Yeah you, and six billion other people."
Well didn't hurt to ask I thought.
My ex-confessor continued,..."Best I can do is maybe a seat on the next migrant ship headed for the "Yankeetown" slums of Shanghai."
My blood ran cold for an instant. "Shanghai", if there were a place that made be'n in hell feel like a "speedball rush" that was it. "No thanks" I said, "I don't do windows."
"Whatelse do you want" asked his eminence cluth'n his monkey's paw tailisman.
"Okay, behind door number two I might like ten onces of "pre-tribulation" Holy Water." (The only kind that still works.) That'n a crate'a .45 caliber hollow point zombie sluggs. The 'real' stuff not that U.N. crap that only piss's 'em off. Throw in they keys to your "enchanted" Studebaker'n were jake.
"In return for?"
"In return for his former holiness's left eye."
Talk about a conversation stopper. Even little "Snake Eyes" who'd been cover'n me with her trusty kalashnikov went pale. See the left eye of a Pope,..any Pope can ward off demons, and all their evil fucked up enchantments too. A real handy thing to have now'a days.
Don't leave home without it. I don't neither. I got's an even set of four mummified "papal peepers",..okay corny, but they work. Like a charm in fact, beats the hell out'a them monkey paws everytime! If you'll excuse the expression. Heh, heh. Again not funny, but like I sez these daze ya gets ya laffs where ya can.
"So can we do biznezz?"
Studebakers, enchanted or not, is the most underated car Detroit ever crapped out onto the interstates! When I was a kid these things was as common as crucified nuns are today, and just as popular. Don't know why they stopped make'n 'em.
The light changed to blue, and I accellerated down Himmler Avenue. I made a left onto Broadway'n had to swerve around all the wreckage the "Rapture" had left behind. The National Guard was still scrape'n all that crap up.
Every make of smashed car, truck, and ocassional pulverized airliner littered the landscape. On the upside tho' most of the assholes, fanatics, and busybodies of the world disappeared. Poof! Just like that.
I guess we all gots a story 'bout that day. Sort'a like where were you on 9/11 or when that UFO flew over Dodgers Stadium during the Pennant Game. Ha! There was no hush'n that one up.
With me I was at a staff meeting at my job. I used to work at a radio station. This is before Satan ordered them all closed except for his outfit. Actually their stuff ain't bad. They tell it like it is, and their game shows is funny.
"You Bet Your Life" is my favorite. You win you live, you lose you die. Straight up no bullshit. 'Course most of the show is the losers be'n slowly roasted, and eat'n by the winners, but still. It's an honest game.
Anyhow there I was at this stupid meeting surrounded by untalented morons, and butt kiss'n yes men when,..."Poof!" Them jerks was gone. This followed by the sound of chainreaction accidents on the street outside. Point is every "pain in the ass", and you know the kind, was gone. Btw, the rapture effect really sounded like,..."Poof" 'Heard digital analysis of it CNN 'fore they shut it down.
Here's the kicker. They didn't go to Heaven. The "Poofed." Least that's what Moses said when he was interviewed by Satan on that new "Demonic Network" of his. According to Moses, and btw Cain backs 'em up, seems there's more out there besides Heaven'n Hell or Purgatory.
Apparently the "Big Guy" set up all sorts'a players we never heard of. Well the "Rapture" scooped up millions sure. Zapped them to,...where? Nobodies knows. Not even da Lord'a Darkness. Ha, I luv'z a mystery.
But I digress's.
The Head. My little pal here seems to be the key to alot'a whats go'n on. Yeah, yeah it's the end of the world, and this Tribulation shit sucks. Ocean's dry'n up, devils everywhere fuck'n with folks, mayhem, slaughter, high tax's, and only one channel ta watch. It's like the whole frigg'n world ate a box'a the brown acid then drank the "Koolaid!"
Ain't we got fun.
But underneath it all is a purpose. The "Big Guy" is up to something, and he's gonna let us all in on it this time. That explains the chaos. See 'before' everybody was in his own patch'n it was business as usual. Now all these weird realities is bump'n into each other, and life is like rent'n a studio apartment in one of Dali's nuttier paintings.
There's a map to where all this shit is go'n locked inside the Popes head. I imagine that's why he's still alive'n so popular.