Never mind which level of Hell they’re on…
The grounds of the Institute was, as usual, cloud-free and Hellishly warm. Numerous residents ‘convalesced’ upon entry into the Infernal Realm, while Centurions stood watch. Charles Johnson, having lapsed into his previous habits, once again experienced disembowelment with his own Banning Stick…courtesy of one of his own copies.
On the grounds, while Simon was needed elsewhere, a few Comrades debated the progress of their ideals in the world above. “Ah,” observed Vladimir Ilyich, “while our cause falters in our Mother Russia per se, it continues apace as theorized by Comrade Marx.”
“I’m distressed,” replied Fidel Castro. “for that very reason.” “Don’t be!” smiled Joe Slovo, a resident since 1995. “It’s succeeding better than expected in places such as Zimbabwe and my own South Africa. And,” he pointed, “as Comrade Hugo here can tell us, Venezuela and Bolivia are coming along quite nicely.”
“Indeed, Comrades!” exclaimed Hugo Chavez. “Although I must admit that I am still unsure just whose side Comrade Обама is on, if you know what I mean and I think you do.”
Suddenly Ché rushed up to them. “Did you hear! Did you hear!” He panted out of excitement, having beat the Centurions to tell them the news.
The Cuban terrorist grinned from ear to ear. “Comrade Mandela…he’s finally arrived!” This announcement was followed by this group of Communists high-fiving each other and slapping each other’s backs.
“Well it’s about damn time!” Lenin whooped. Just then, John Cavil appeared at the gate to the Institute, along with two Bulletheads and the new resident. Nelson Mandela ran as quickly as his 95-year-old body allowed him, and embraced old friends.
Cavil gestured to Charles Johnson. “Mr. Johnson! Please come here and meet a person you admire!” The copy stopped his task; Johnson got up from the ground, straightened his clothes, and walked over.
“Mr. Johnson!” smiled Mandela. “I’ve heard much of your work and it is most commendable. A pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” replied the bicycling blogger, and the two shook hands.
Just then, Cavil nodded to the two Bulletheads, who took custody of not only Johnson, but also Mandela and the other Communists. He addressed the group. “Gentlemen, I have decided that it is necessary to extend a special reprieve to your daily punishments today.”
The Communists were genuinely surprised to hear of Cavil’s clemency. And then, it hit them…especially Slovo, who knew what was coming.
“Centurions!” ordered Cavil. A phalanx of Toasters arrived to surround the group and immobilize them. “As you can see by these tires we’ve brought in for the occasion, this is but one item your Comrade friend was most infamous for in his native South Africa…that is, when he wasn’t busy hobnobbing with the despots of the world above while suckering all the people of his country. I know he’d want to share this with everyone….you most of all, Mr. Johnson.”
One gasoline-soaked tire was placed around Lenin, Castro, Ché, Chavez, Slovo, Johnson, and Mandela himself…who realized the utter hopelessness of his situation. One Centurion garnished a flamethrower instead of an automatic rifle.
Cavil smiled one more time. “And Mr. Mandela, don’t worry about your wives. We will also welcome them here in the same fashion.”
“You son of a bitch!” screamed Mandela.
“Cavil, you psycho asshole!” scowled the bicycling blogger.
The Number One Cylon relished giving this command. “Centurion…open fire!” The flamethrower let loose and consumed the small Communist cabal.
Two mysterious figures nearby, a male and female. gasped in horror at what they had witnessed from the shadows. Fifteen minutes later, the Toasters cleaned up the mess and things at the Institute went back to normal.
Never mind which level of Hell they’re on…
“You gotta be kidding me!” Saddam exclaimed under his breath as he rushed to the central command hub of the base ship. After the last debacle which transformed him, Barney Frank, Fred Phelps, and John Cavil into pillars of salt, the former Iraqi dictator was very loathe to step foot onto the abomination which it had become.
But, a request from his boss (not necessarily The Devil) was not simply a request, and so he went straightaway.
Fifteen minutes later (considered immediate in the Infernal Realm), Saddam arrived, and he found Cavil in the darkened control tub location. “OK Cavil! Who have you conjured up this time?”
The Number One Cylon laughed. “I assure you no conjuration was necessary. She just arrived today.” He plugged the cable in and the tank lit up the entire room.
“Son of a bitch! HELEN THOMAS!” He silently thanked both his bosses that he didn’t have to throw his shoe like he wanted to do with Nancy Pelosi back in the day. “Man, you sure work fast!”
“You’re welcome,” replied Cavil. “By the way, the Boss will still have her fulfill her Punishment Battalion duties when needed. At least we now have fresh DNA instead of a transmitted sequence the last two times I tried this.”
“Awaiting instructions,” said the Hybrid. The ship throbbed.
“So,” Cavil inquired. “Who would you like to invite to this unveiling?”
Saddam had to think for a moment. “I have two people in mind, both of whom were her peers when she began her career at the White House. May I go and fetch them?”
“Certainly,” smiled the Toaster.
Thirty minutes later (not considered immediate), the Iraqi returned with Ted Kennedy and Fidel Castro! The Senator thoughtfully brought along his best bottle of scotch when Saddam asked him to attend. The Cuban dictator dutifully carried a box of cigars and a lighter.
Cavil retrieved some shot glasses from a nearby cupboard in his office, poured out the scotch (sans ice of course), and passed them around.
“WHOOOOAAAAHHHH!” Kennedy happily muttered. “I’m not even gonna ask.”
“Good thing too, Comrade Ted,” Castro replied. “If there’s one…ahem!...good thing I can say about The Opposing One, He knows who to send our way.”
“Indeed.” Cavil was even enjoying the cigar, the scotch, and the company, a rarity for him.
After another fifteen minutes, everyone was satisfied. “Let us begin,” said The Number One Cylon. “Hybrid…status, please.” “A teacher praised my work, and I liked the bylines..all systems nominal, FTL online, weapons systems online…When you’re having fun, why stop having fun…end of line.”
Saddam shook his head. “Don’t look at me. I know better!”
“Comrade Fidel?” Cavil shook his head. “I suppose I owe you one after the unceremonious matter in which you arrived here.”
“Thank you.” Castro placed his hands into the nearby data stream water console, and simply said, “I miss Havana.”
Ted Kennedy gasped. “Holy Crap! We can’t go there! That’s outside the Infernal Realm!”
Cavil stroked his chin. “An interesting choice, actually. Hmmm….”
The Hybrid complied. “We won’t really know what will happen until it happens…JUMP!” The Hybrid arched its back in ecstatic transition. One moment the base ship serenely floated above the ancient fortress…
...the next, it appeared over the exact same coordinates. Except inside the ship, the atmospheric pressure was rapidly dropping! Cavil, Saddam, Kennedy, and Castro began to turn blue as they reached for the next breath which would never come; not even the Number One Cylon had a chance to utter his last words as the Hybrid issued its status since it was unharmed. “I’m a liberal, I was born a liberal, and I will be a liberal till the day I die…internal life support offline, FTL offline, weapons systems offline…Oh my God, they’re going to fire me…end of line.”
In a corner of the control tank area, two figures observed the Centurions enter to retrieve the corpses; since the Bulletheads did not rely on oxygen, it was simply business as usual for them.
“Will they ever learn?” said the male.
The female shook her head. “I highly doubt it.” Then they vanished.
The other night I read about a tool which helps to block all the tracking done by social networks, ad networks, and companies on many web sites. It’s called Do Not Track Plus and it’s a FREE DOWNLOAD. Here’s an example:
Frak you, selrahC!
Since installing it, it’s blocked over 500 entities! So yeah, me likey. You should too. It works on Firefox, Safari, Chrome, heck even Internet Exploder for PC users who still torture themselves. Doesn’t work on Opera though.
Go Ye and download and install Do Not Track Plus. The Macker Commands It!
Wow…I actually bought something on eBay for the first time in over two years! You know, sometimes one’s economic situation is a factor, and that was the case for a while. Still is.
One of my friends in town proudly showed me their new Pantech Link II messaging feature phone, and believe it or don’t, I was very impressed with the form factor…being able to comfortably hold it in my hand and hunt-and-peck text out a message on the portrait-format QWERTY keyboard, with buttons that, while conforming to the design, I could actually discern one from another!
At that point I resolved to get the phone, and switch back to AT&T.
I managed to scrounge up the funds to do it, and found a decently priced model someone was selling who only used it for two months while their iPhone was in the shop. I should have it by the end of this week, and then I can take it right away to an AT&T store to activate it as a GoPhone, and be done with Verizon.
Our refreshed logo is rooted in our proud history and reflects a dynamic future. It’s eBay today: a global online marketplace that offers a cleaner, more contemporary and consistent experience, with innovation that makes buying and selling easier and more enjoyable. We retained core elements of our logo, including our iconic color palette. Our vibrant eBay colors and touching letters represent our connected and diverse eBay community – more than 100 million active users and 25 million sellers globally and growing.
Kinda reminds me of Microsoft’s recent brand image revamping. But no matter. And there you have it.
It is rare to hear a politician say, “Of course it was a set up.” But Russian President Vladimir Putin told a Russian journalist that many of his most picturesque media appearances — shooting a tranquilizer dart into a tiger who appeared about to pounce; tagging a wounded snow leopard; and, just this week, wearing a feathery white suit to pilot a glider to guide a group of cranes south for the winter — were staged.
“Of course there are excesses,” he told Masha Gessen in Bolshoi Gorod magazine. But they were constructive deceits, he said, because they called attention to endangered wildlife.
A lot of Russians had been skeptical about President Putin’s highly publicized displays of environmental daring. They thought the tiger looked a little glassy-eyed, and suggested he might have been trucked in from a zoo.
“But I thought up these tigers myself,” Mr. Putin said. “Twenty other countries where tigers live also started taking care of them. ... The leopards were also my idea. Yes, I know they were caught before but the most important thing is to draw public attention to the problem.”
Read the rest. There is a saying in Russia: In Truth there is no News, and in News there is no Truth. Imagine that!
They do not care about History…unless it suits them. Witness the following photo at the close of the Demo☭rat National Convention in Charlotte, wherein an effort to sucker The American People into believing they care about our military, backfires in a most egregious fashion:
The background — featured in the carefully choreographed hour leading up to the president’s Sept. 6 speech accepting the Democratic Party’s nomination — showed four ships with radar designs not used in the U.S. fleet.
For example, the ship in the foreground, on the far right, has a square radar antenna at the top of its masthead. That is the MR-700 Podberezovik 3-D early warning radar, commonly identified as “Flat Screen” for its appearance, a three-dimensional early warning radar mounted on the Kerch, said Eric Wertheim, editor of “Combat Fleets of the World.”
Similarly, the third ship has a MR-310 “Head Net” air search radar, shaped like two off-set bananas, at its masthead and is mostly likely the guided missile destroyer Smetlivyy. The first two ships seem to be Krivak-class frigates, but it’s hard to discern from the silhouette, experts said.
But the fact they are Russian ships is not in doubt. In addition to the ship’s radar arrays and hulls, which are dissimilar from U.S. warships, the photo features one more give-away: a large white flag with a blue ‘X’ at the ships’ sterns.
Polmar, who authored “The Naval Institute Guide to the Soviet Navy,” recognized the blue ‘X’-mark: “The X is the Cross of St. Andrew’s, which is a Russian Navy symbol,” Polmar said. (An anchored U.S. warship, by contrast, flies the American flag on its stern.)
Based on this specific group of these ship types, one naval expert concluded that this was most likely a photo of the Black Sea Fleet.
These people don’t possess the intestinal fortitude to show the REAL a**-kicking ships of the United States Navy. Yet another reason to reject the Demo☭rat Party come November 6.
Владимир Владимирович may be an autocrat, but he sure is more MANLY than The Empty Chair!
VLADIVOSTOK, Russia (AP)—Vladimir Putin flew a motorized hang glider to lead a flock of young Siberian white cranes in flight, a characteristic stunt for Russia’s action-man, animal-loving president.
Dressed in a white costume meant to imitate an adult crane, Putin was taking part in a project to teach the endangered birds who were raised in captivity to follow the aircraft on their southern migration to Central Asia. It follows a series of adventures for which the Russian leader has become alternately notorious and beloved, from flying a fighter jet to riding a horse bare-chested.
Perhaps Pooty and Romney could have some sort of competition?
We really should! After all, the only verse referenced is Psalm 109:8. But seeing as the Demo☭rats have taken God out of their platform, do they really want God Himself to take the entire psalm into consideration?
Let us hope not. For He is a Merciful and Loving God.
The Demo☭rat National Convention festivities has barely begun (what with 20,000 Mohammedans at yesterday’s Jumah), and already things are starting to go awry. To wit:
CHARLOTTE, N.C. — A torrential downpour that struck Charlotte Saturday afternoon damaged the Mount Rushmore-style sand sculpture bust of Президент Обама — an ominous beginning to what many fear is a plagued convention.
Workers were trying Saturday afternoon to reform the base of the sculpture, built from sand brought in from Myrtle Beach, S.C., pounding and smoothing out the sand that had washed off the facade of the waist-up rendering of the chief executive.
The sand sculpture was protected from above, and Mr. Обама‘s face didn’t see too much damage. But the storm was so strong that its heavy winds blew the rain sideways, pelting the president’s right side and leaving the sand pockmarked and completely erasing his right elbow.
I wonder if God is laughing at this…edifice of narcissism?