Thursday, January 31, 2008
Much of the credit, of course, has to go to his partnership with Bedlam Tom and the Screaming Glory Players, whose dramatizations of The Morning After continue to pack in audiences. Here is a transcript of one that took place Sunday evening in a church basement somewhere along the St. Johns River:
Scene: the Womyn’s Sweat Lodge. TARYN and JANET RENO are cuddling under a blanket. Their shoulders are bare, so presumably the rest of them is too.
TARYN: Janet, that was wonderful!
RENO (coyly): So - am I better than the President?
TARYN: well - ah - ahem! You each have your own unique - ahem!
RENO: Don’t worry about offending us. Jealousy is an outdated construct in this post-Apocalyptic world, just like God, family and property. Everything is shared now, including love.
PIAPS enters, without knocking, in leather Speedo, sleeveless leather vest, black fishnet thigh-highs and six-inch black heels. She is holding a double leash in one hand and carrying a whip in the other. TARYN and RENO sit abruptly upright, letting the blanket fall. Cheers and hoots from the congregation.
PIAPS (in high spirits) Oh, there you are! I thought I’d find you here. Well, my dears, it was a challenge, but I did it! And I’m so proud! I just have to show you. (Cracks whip in the air and tugs leash). All right, boys - come in. Now!
Enter SEAN HANNITY AND BILL O’REILLY, wearing studded dog-collars, one on each leash. They stumble as if sleepwalking, and their eyes are vacant.
PIAPS: Now, boys. I want you to tell my senior advisors exactly what you learned under my tutelage.
Brief silence. They fidget and stare at the floor.
PIAPS: NOW!!! (cracks whip harder.)
HANNITY (mechanically): Praise to PIA- (crack of the whip) I mean President Clinton.
O’REILLY (mechanically): She has saved the world.
HANNITY(ditto) : May she live forever!
O’REILLY (ditto): We love the ground she walks on!
RENO: My God, Hill, you’re amazing! I didn’t think you could do it!
TARYN: What will happen to them now?
PIAPS: That’s the brilliant part of my plan. I’m going to send them back to Fox News, to their old jobs. They’ll host their shows every night, same as before; but now they’ll tell their viewers what I want them to hear.
HANNITY: Let all America bow low before her!
O’REILLY: Blessed be Allah for sending her to us!
TARYN: But - Ms. President - that’s not what people are used to hearing them say. Won’t they suspect anything?
RENO (laughing): Taryn, sweetie, you are so naive. You’re assuming that right-wingers have brains.
PIAPS: When in fact nothing could be further from the truth. The right will believe anything these men say, without questioning it. So if they tell America I should be worshipped - millions of viewers will believe it automatically. I’ll have brought my enemies under my control, with a minimum of effort.
TARYN: That is brilliant, Ms. President!
PIAPS (modestly): I’m glad you agree. Now, boys, turn around and go outside. I’m going to stay here for a while. But behave yourselves. I’ve hired the Newshounds of the Caribbean to keep a watch on you, and if you aren’t good little boys - well, Captain Elijah Ballkicker has lots of rope. Do you understand me?
O’REILLY (shuddering): We will never disobey your wishes, O Glorious One. (They stumble out.)
PIAPS: Oooh. Now I’m really in the mood. (Kicks off her shoes, and begins to strip off her stockings.)
TARYN: You can’t stay here too long, Ms. President. You have the post-peace-treaty dinner party with Osama Bin Laden tonight.
PIAPS: Oh, Sammy can wait. But I can’t. (As she begins to remove her vest, the curtain falls. Thunderous applause. Cries of “Rapture! RAPTURE!”)
How can Konservo ever compete with that?
Saturday, January 26, 2008
A lot of the credit goes to Rev. Thomas P. Zacharias and his family. Their dramatizations of The Morning After which are packing in audiences. Here's a sample of what people saw in South Carolina this week:
TARYN, clad only in Speedo and Doc Martens, is standing alone on stage with a tense look on her face. Enter JANET RENO (played by Rev. Tom’s sister, Rebekah McNish).
RENO: Is the interrogation still going on?
TARYN: Yes. It’s been ages, too. My God, how can they hold out so long?
RENO: They're tough; but the President is tougher.
PIAPS (offstage): All right, you snivelling wingnuts, I am going to give you one more chance. For the last time: Where is the printout of Americaphile?
HANNITY (offstage) Do your worst, Clintoon; we’ll never tell you a thing.
O’REILLY (offstage) There are at least two people in this room who love America, you secular progressive, you!*
TARYN: I never expected them to be that strong.
RENO: Well, we knew they would be difficult to break.
PIAPS (offstage): Very well. I didn’t want to do this, but since you’re so obstinate I have no other choice. Igor... bring out the Box.
(Dead silence. TARYN and RENO both gasp in horror.)
IGOR (offstage): No, Ms. President.. Not ... the Box!
PIAPS (offstage): you heard what I said, Igor. Bring out the Box. All right. Where shall I begin? (Sound of rattling and rummaging). Oh, I think I’ll start with this one here. Igor, put this in the VCR. All right, Foxy boys - you asked for it.
(Whirring noises; then the voice of Rosie O’Donnell fills the air. Horrible screams off stage.)
O’REILLY: Cut her mike! CUT HER MIKE!!!!
HANNITY: You ruthless, heartless bitch! Is there no limit to your cruelty?
PIAPS: I told you I’d stop at nothing to learn the truth.
TARYN: Oh, my God, I can’t stand it!
RENO: They won’t last long now. Soon it will be over and Americaphile will be no more - and then will be helpless against us (chuckles). Why don’t you go to the sweat lodge and relax? Come to think of it, why don’t we both go to the sweat lodge and relax? (They exit with their arms around each other.)
The audience left the rally bubbling with enthusiasm.This blogger overheard repeated comments like, "I wonder if Sean and Bill will break," and "You don't see anything like that at Romney's rallies," and "I wouldn't mind an hour in a sweat lodge with that Speedo gal."
"Great to see him getting back on his game," said commentator VermontDave. "Though I'm a California Blat man myself."
Stay tuned for Florida and Super Duper Tuesday!
*Hannity is played by Micah Zacharias; O'Reilly by Rebekah's husband Elihu McNish.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Caucus day in Las Vegas dawned sunny and bright; but there was no sunshine on the face of Roger Constantine. He stood on the roof of the Plaza Hotel and Casino, looking down on the busy street below, muttering a prayer as he dashed a tear from his eye.
“What do you think you’re doing? ” said a voice behind him. Roger looked around to see a man in jeans, baseball cap and flak jacket standing behind him, heavily tattooed bare arms crossed over his chest. “If it’s what I think you’re doing - well, you’re not doing it. I’m not going to let you.”
“Why not?” asked Roger despondently. “I have nothing left to live for. I’ve gambled it all away. I’ve lost my home, my job, my family. I’m $300,000 in debt. I wish I had never seen a slot machine; at least now I won’t see them any more. Goodbye.” He stepped toward the edge of the roof but suddenly froze in mid-stride.
“Now you are in my power,” said the stranger. “And you will do what I tell you to. You will climb down from this roof and go out into the street. See that red, white and blue GMC Sierra down there, with I’M AN AMERICAN HERO painted on the side? You are going to climb into the cab and wait for me. Don’t worry about the seven Rottweilers. They won’t hurt you - not unless you try to get out of the truck before I say so. You agree?”
“Yes,” said Roger vaguely. Then, stumbling like a sleepwalker, he dragged himself away from the edge of the roof and toward the open trapdoor.
A few minutes later, a tattooed stranger in baseball cap and flak jacket entered the casino. He went to one slot machine and emptied it. He went to another slot machine and emptied it. He emptied a whole row of slot machines, then headed for the blackjack tables. By this time he’d attracted an astonished and admiring crowd.
“Hey, I know who that is!” said a white-haired woman who happened to hail from Flagstaff, Arizona. “It’s CALIFORNIA BLAT!” Loud gasps of amazement; then cheers.
An hour later, California Blat (for that is indeed who it was) came back out to the truck. “Here you go,” he said, handing Roger a check. “I’ve paid off all your debts, and here’s $50,000 extra to help you start over. I will put a charm upon you to remove your urge to gamble; slots and casinos will never attract you again. Now go, and begin anew!
As Roger fell down on his knees in the street, weeping and kissing the stranger’s dusty hiking boots, the crowd cheered and cheered and cheered.
But the people were already running en masse to the nearest Nevada Caucus precincts. And when all the ballots were counted, California Blat had 21,722 votes - almost as many as Mitt Romney.
But Blat said, “Please don’t count those votes. I’m grateful that you love me as much as I love you; but I am not a candidate. I don’t really want to be president.
I want to roam the desert
In my pickup truck
Helping all the people who
Are down upon their luck,
I’d rather be a hero,
(A mighty hero),
And not a big fat zero
Just like RALPH.”
“He’s a idiot,” commented Moment-Man Eustace Whazzup. “I'd run after him if I could but I still cain't walk too good. He's gotta come back. He's gotta run for President. I mean, who else is there? That Kon-pervo character? I betcha anything CB’ll change his mind if’n we git enough people beggin’ him.”
Ohio general veterinary clinic has had a controversial patient staying with them. "Billy-boy",the Masonic lodge goat has been under observation for some days,as a result of the horrid(alleged) sexual molestation he received during a honorary bestowal of the order for the troll party candidate Ralph. The veterinarians examined said goat,and although the animal has passed with a seemingly clean bill of health,there's a problem.....
Billy-boy is pregnant.
This astounding revelation was discovered by Dr. Walter P. Blastocyst or the Sainted Virgin Animal Hospital at the corner of 4th and Bush streets. Dr. Blastocyst told this reporter:
"It's the strangest case I've ever been on in all my years. Frankly I feel it's a sign from GAWD. This is a child of some special purpose."
Others in the Hospital are not so generous. Nurse Peony Smellerot had this to say:
"It's the DEVIL! THE ANTI-RALPH! IT HATES RALPH-MASS I CAN ALREADY TELL!!"
People in the community are shaken by this strange occurence. Manly are speaking of switching their votes over to troll party candidate Konservo. The sentiments expressed, "At least we know that thar Konservo feller is one of them gaybirds! This goat thing,this kid could be the start of the triberlayshun!"
We once again tried to speak reasonably with Ralph the Prophet over these allegations of a connection to ultimate evil and his seed. The response was as androgynous as usual:
""THEY SHOULD NAME THAT DEVIL APOCALYPSE! AGENT OF PIAPS AND CLINTOON! HATE! HATE! HATE!"
A released,pre-prepared statement was read in the evening. Transcript as follows:
"The campaign for Ralph, America's greatest President in waiting, would like to lay these false allegations of goat-fucking and other criminal and immoral acts to rest.The candidate was not at the Masonic lodge downtown on the evening in question,regardless of what may be believed from those doctored photographs. We would like to assure our faithful followers, that a man such as Ralph would not lower himself to sex up a ruminant,nor would he raise said ruminant to sex it up. Ralph apologises for not being here,as he's having some slight medical difficulty himself,but would like us,his voice to leave our congregation with the following words on his behalf. In his words, "Sometime after the secret snatching away of my SAINTLY VISAGE,knowing I AM READY FOR THE RAPTURE [TUESDAY, JANUARY 20, 2009!!!!!!!], MY IMAGE WAS IMPOSED WITH AN ANIMAL OF LOW QUALITY!!!! The dreaded battle variously known as World War III, Armageddon, brought about the DEVIL-BORN Apocalypse, or the Battle of Gog and Magog will MAKE YOU ALL SUFFER FOR YOUR DISBELIEF!! This is when the VIRGIN will take on its dual role as a symbol for evil, AND THE VAGINA, and will represent the Harlot called the GOAT!!!!!"
As ambiguous as always,the candidate and his team are keeping the story close to their vests. Or at least in a pocket,notably located in the groin area.
Updates as they become available.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Below is a transcript of the "special service" held last night at the Screaming Glory Tabernacle in Bedlam Junction, Pennsylvnia.
REV. THOMAS P. ZACHARIAS: And now for our feature presentation...
Entire tabernacle is suddenly plunged in darkness.
VOICE OF REV. TOM (from the rafters) “Behold, the Lord has sent a messenger among us. Even as He sent Jonah to warn Nineveh, so has he sent RALPH to warn America, and I have promised to help him spread his message during this election season. Tonight, we are pleased to present a dramatization of his prophetic work, The Morning After. It is still a work in progress, but once we’ve perfected it – as far as we can, given that we are but following in RALPH’s footsteps - then look, listen, and tremble!
Sinister music. Smoke and a smell of sulphur. Lights come up. Enter PIAPS (played by Mrs. Esther Zacharias), wearing a polyester pantsuit, with the number 666 written on her forehead.
PIAPS: Ah, what a wonderful day! My first day as President of the United States. I have just left the Lincoln Bedroom, where I spent last night writhing in ecstasy with Rosie O’Donnell and Janet Reno. Now I must get down to the business of establishing my dark master's Reign on Earth (chuckles evilly). Let me call my assistant. Taryn, come here!
Enter TARYN (played by Miss Zipporah Zacharias), tattooed and shaven-headed, wearing only Speedos and Doc Martens.
TARYN: Yes, Ms. President?
PIAPS: What is on my agenda today?
TARYN: First, you have a meeting with Osama bin Laden to sign a peace treaty. Then you have a strategy planning session for world domination with Pope Benedict, and after that lunch with Gerry Adams and King Harald of Norway. Then we have some bills for you to sign – the ones abolishing the Constitution and closing all the churches. We’ve cleared the rest of the afternoon for your interrogation session of Bill O’Reilly and Sean Hannity.
PIAPS: Wonderful! I can’t wait to hear their screams! It just gets me right here! (Rubs her hands across her pelvic area with sighs of ecstasy.)
Thunderous sound of hooves. Wagnerian music. Enter the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse [played by Reverend Tom’s sons Micah, Ezekiel, Jedediah and Habakkuk]. They ride howling across the stage.*
TARYN: I know, Ms. President. That's why I’ve booked the Womyn’s Sweat Lodge for after the interrogation.
PIAPS: Oh, that'll be just what I need. (Gasps ecstatically.) And will you join me there, my sweet? (caressing Taryn’s earlobe).
TARYN: Oh, Ms. President, there’s nothing I would like more! (Leaps up and down with anticipation. A large amount of jiggling. Males in audience show their appreciation)
PIAPS: Nor I; but we can't stay there long. We have a lot of work to do before my task is fulfilled. Isn't it wonderful? This is the beginning of the End of Days! Isn’t it wonderful?
Thunderous hooves, Wagnerian music. The Four Horsemen ride back across the stage. Exit PIAPS and TARYN.
REV. TOM (from the rafters): Listen and fear, fellow Americans. Do you want this scenario to come to pass? (Loud cries of “No!”) Then embrace the Rapture! Heed the words of RALPH! He speaks with the tongue of the Prophet! BEHOLD HIM!!
A burst of flame shoots up from the stage. As it subsides, we see RALPH standing stage center, arms upraised. Deafening cheers.
RALPH: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!!!! YOU ARE EXPOSED, PIAPS, YOU SKANKY DOUGHNUT-BUMPING BITCH! AND AS FOR YOU, KONSERVO, YOU PATHETIC LITTLE ASSWI -
REV. TOM (hastily interrupting): Over the coming weeks we’ll perfect this dramatization, and we’ll take it across the country, so that all America can see it and tremble at the fate that awaits the Unraptured. We will take it into every primary state! We’ll make sure that all Americans see it and take heed. Don't spend the rest of your lives, and all eternity, with PIAPS! RAPTURE!!! HALLELUJAH!!!!!
*An unidentified member of the congregation commented, “Those stick horses with the painted heads sort of spoiled the effect. But the intent was good.”
The Biography,entitled " Ralph:Story of an American Hero" made notes of his early history,including that he had been married to one Phyllus Smegma-Diddlefiddle. Ralph himself,on September 13,2007 had previously said this:
"SHE'S DEAD!DEAD!SHE CAN'T EVEN THINK!"
Of course,it was not surprising that the candidate began looking for a trophy wife,under those circumstances. Now it seems that this may have been an untruth,as Chillingham Travesty has had a woman on her show today,claiming to be the candidate's wife!
Transcript as follows:
Chillingham: "Okay,so you're actually Ralph's wife? Tell us about it."
Phyllus(allegedly): "Well,me 'n Ralphie gots married when we's just kids. He's allus wanted ter be Preznit. He lef' a few months ago,while I was out back cookin' chitlins. I thought he wuz goin to the store,but he never came back! Armageddon called wonderin' where her daddy got off to. I don't got no tv,but the newspaper came yesterday and there he wuz!"
Chillingham: "He was in the paper?"
Phyllus(allegedly): "Ayuh. Jus' as big as life! We done thought somethin' had a happen'd to him. Then I got ter readin',and it said he wa lookin' fer a wife! I'm his wife! Why's he need 'nother one?"
We followed Mrs. Smegma(Diddlefiddle) home as part of our investigation,and true enough,she does indeed live in a small backwoods cabin. There are numerous doghouses in front,and several photographs of Troll Party candidate Ralph in the home.
We spoke to Phyllus as well,who I might add is a rather sweet woman,though she's a might narrow between and hard on the eyes. She laid out a sketch of their life,which strangely coincides with the biography. Our team is working diligently to solve this mystery for our readers.
Spokesmen for the Ralph/Blat 2008 campaign weren't available for comment,and the candidate seems to have dropped off the map,somewhere in the Appalachian Mountains.
As servers passed trays of miniature quiche and prosciutto-and-crab puffs to the excited throng, Konservo was nonchalant and relaxed, seemingly oblivious to the large-screen displays showing minute-by-minute election returns as he leant seductively on the grand piano and crooned (to the strains of “As Long As He Needs Me” from Oliver!):
You take care of me, oh, so good:
And that is why I rate
As your candidate!
As long as you need me,
I’ll be what I must be,
Just send me to DC –
For that’s where you need me.
Long as my term goes on,
I’ll bring the Right, not wrong,
Together we’ll be strong,
Because you SO need me…
If you are right-wing,
Then it’s SO TRUE
You know KONSERVO
Knows what to dooooo…..
But, as the accompanist provided a sweeping crescendo and Konservo prepared to modulate upwards to the Big Finale, the unexpected arrived.
Security at the entrance scrambled but failed to halt the appearance on the scene of a newcomer without credentials, who squealed “Take your filthy Islamofascist mitts OFF me, you vulgar man! Don’t you recognize me? I’m RODAN, Konservo’s Number One FAN!”
Indeed, as he shook off the security guards, Rodan certainly appeared dressed to venerate Konservo as his own personal American Idol. He was wearing a substandard knockoff of one of Konservo’s striptease outfits from one of his legendary acts at the Lookout Bar & Bistro in Ottawa, complete with an wig and headpiece which did little to detract from his own neglected shag cut, wisping out at the edges. Efforts to replicate Konservo’s distinctive face makeup did little but impart a clownish aspect to his features. He even teetered a little on his T.J. Maxx pumps as he tried to pull himself up to full dignity and rush his hero, brandishing as he did a congratulatory bouquet.
Konservo quickly beckoned to him the members of the band engaged for the evening’s later planned revelry (“Reverend Raven and The Chain Smokin’ Altar Boys,” reportedly a local favorite), and they formed a perimeter between the prospective candidate and his devotee.
“But, Konservo, WHY?” wailed Rodan, grasping ineffectually toward his role model. “You know I’ve always been there for you…” Oddly, the spotlight suddenly began to track Rodan’s tearful declamation as he moved across the scuffed dance floor in the body language of a lover scorned. “Who followed you to Think Progress and championed you? Who assailed Huffington Post and DailyKos? Who spawned a horde of sockpuppets on News Hounds? WHO?!” The last exclamation came out in a piercing, desperate wail that made the band’s microphones screech with feedback.
Rodan wiped away a melodramatic tear. “It was ME, Konservo. Your truest friend – nay, perhaps your only real friend – and now you spurn and reject me, on the very eve of the glory we’ve worked so hard for you to attain. OH, I can bear it no longer!!”
The crowd moved in to restrain Rodan as he groped to snatch up a serrated steak knife, perhaps intent on ending it all right then and there. But he collapsed into a moaning shell of himself, shoulders heaving, as a security guard gently took the knife away and compassionate voices assured the hapless Rodan that it was all right, everything was OK and he was still…
“EXCUSE me!?” snapped Konservo.
The rest of the room froze.
“WHO exactly is the CANDIDATE here? Hmm?” Konservo’s pique was obvious, and he threw his boa contemptuously over one shoulder and stalked toward the exit, shoulders held in a furious stance.
“But…er…the returns, Konservo…?” said one hapless campaign aide toward his retreating, offended back.
At the backstage door, Konservo slowly turned to face the crowd, the tiniest of tears extending the makeup around his left eye into a poignant streak of black down one cheek. “I don’t even care any more,” he said, with a catch in his quiet voice, before heading into the backstage area. The group heard one THUD of a slammed exterior door, and then the roar of a snowmobile, before the room faded again into silence.
Rodan sobbed openly. “I only wanted to congratulate him!” he groaned. “To celebrate this special moment…with someone special! Why?! Oh, Diebold in Heaven, WHY?!?!”
As security made to track Konservo’s trail, the rest of the campaign staff reasoned there was no point in wasting perfectly good canapes and an open, prepaid bar, and settled in for the evening’s returns. By the midnight report that Konservo had bested not only his Troll Party rival RALPH, but also Republican hopefuls Ron Paul and Fred Thompson, in the final projections, it was Rodan who was belting out “Happy Days Are Here Again!” at the piano…the remaining unresolved issue being, could Konservo be persuaded to return to the campaign trail after being upstaged by a fan, and did this episode boost or further damage the candidacy of former Troll Party frontrunner RALPH?
Citizen-journalist Kate Stone and noted blogger Zen Caviar are among those expected to weigh in on this potentially explosive development in an already-heated campaign.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
We pick up the tale of RALPH’s current whereabouts where we left off a few posts ago: with the Candidate being chased by police in a small Pennsylvania town after being caught putting "The Morning After" on windshields at the local mall.
As he was panting for breath, a battered white van with the words "Central PA Heating and Air Conditioning" lettered on the side pulled up beside him and a man shouted, "Get in, quick!" Instinctively, RALPH obliged, and the van took off toward I-76. The policemen gave up the chase, though RALPH could hear them in the distance calling "...and don’t ever come back!"
The driver didn’t look much like an HVAC guy - he had nothing in common, for example, with the tattooed skinhead who installed this blogger’s new water heater two days ago. He wore a long white beard down to his waist, a floor-length homespun robe that looked like something out of the Bible (though the authenticity was destroyed by his wearing rubber boots instead of sandals), and a big cross around his neck. Another cross hung on the rear-view mirror, one with red, white and blue flashing lights that lit the van up like a strobe.
"Welcome, brother RALPH," said stranger. "Yes, I can see your surprise that I know your name. But among my flock your writings are revered like those of Revelation. Would that they were so revered everywhere!"
"THEN YOU AREN’T REALLY AN AIR-CONDITIONING MAN?" gasped RALPH.
"Not literally - this van is a device to allow me to travel incognito. But perhaps metaphorically, since my job is to save America from the burning flames. Allow me to introduce myself; I am the Reverend Thomas P. Zacharias, pastor of the Screaming Glory Tabernacle in Bedlam Junction. We have heard your warning, and it has touched our hearts very nearly. In my church we are making a study of The Morning After as all Americans should do. At tonight’s service we’ll be doing a special presentation on The Morning After; my daughter Zipporah will read from it while walking a tightrope above an open fire pit. I know you will love it. My home is yours, brother RALPH. I am honored to have you in my car, shining beacon of purity that you are."*
At this, RALPH began to sob and embrace Reverend Tom. "THE LORD HAS BROUGHT ME AMONG MY FRIENDS! I HAVE BEEN PLUCKED FROM THE JAWS OF MINE ENEMIES AND LED TO GREEN PASTURES! I HAVE FOUND A LOYAL RAPTURE AMERICAN AMID THE MOB OF BLOODTHIRSTY DEMLIBS AND AGENTS OF VILE MURDERING PIAPS THAT SURROUND ME!!! TAKE ME TO BEDLAM! IT IS WHERE I BELONG!!!!"
So off they rode into the Appalachians, while back in Dubois, his entourage remained scratching their heads. "I thought we're supposed to be rehearsing for debates," said a campaign worker who identified himself only as "Henry".
* We’re not sure whether Rev. Tom has heard about the goat yet.
The photographs while grainy and somewhat out of focus seem to show America’s Greatest President in Waiting caught in flagrante delicto with a defensless animal! The pictures were taken at the bestowing of the Ohio Mason’s society.
I asked Tom Bedlow what he made of the situation:
Mr. Bedlow, can you tell me what happened?
“Well, we decided after following Ralph’s campaign bid, that we would offer him an honorary membership in the Order of Masons. We contacted him and he seemed really excited about it. We were too, as you well know that there are many former Presidents who were honorable Masonic brothers.”
Yes. And what happened at the inauguration?
“I can’t tell you everything, you realize, as our ceremonies are quite secret. However, you do know that one inducted must ride a goat. That’s a part of the ceremony see. It’s a long standing practice, and quite harmless fun!”
Yes sir, I understand. And when coming to this part of the ceremony, what happened?
“We told RALPH that he would ride the goat to be a member. He looked at us strangely at first, and then he smiled real funny like."
Then what happened?
“Well, Billy-boy’s handler (Billy-Boy is the pet goat’s name) is Tommy Larson. Anyways Tommy brought Billy-Boy out for the ride. Ralph got this queer look in his eyes and I kind of got scared for a minute. Then he takes off running at Billy-Boy!”
He did? What happened next?
“Well….*sniff*…this is tough. He grabbed Billy by the neck and spun him around. Then he dropped his buh-buh-britches…..OH GOD IT’S HORRIBLE!”
It’s alright sir. Take your time.
“Naw, it’s ok. Need to talk about it, you know? Well he grabbed Billy and dropped his pants. Then he started screaming something about Pips? Paps?...”
“Yeah, that’s it. He said something like, ’You’re mine PIAPS!’. I was scared out of my wits. Billy was straining to get away and everything and we were all shocked, like paralyzed. Finally Tommy got his wits about him and pulled Ralph off.”
“Nothing. When Ralph got jerked loose from Billy, he grabbed his pants and ran like the dickens. Tommy chased him, but it was no use. That Ralph is fast I tell you!”
The pictures in question were printed yesterday in the Ohio Coon-skinner Times. I tried to get a comment from Ralph today, but all he would say on the matter was:
“LIBTARD CONSPIRACY! IT’S NOT ME! THEY CAN”T EVEN THINK!! THEY ARE JUST FULL OF HATE!
This reporter did speak to the veterinarian in charge of Billy-Boy’s case. Other than a ruptured rectum and some psychological problems, Billy should be back out head-butting visitors to the lodge in a few weeks.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
A tale that truly needs telling, and one that will soon be in the description of America's Greatest President!
Some years ago:
1: A star is born!
It was the summer of 1965 on a cold winter’s morn, when a little bitty baby-child was born in an Ohio Ghetto. He was a small-built child, but perfect in his smallness. His one feature (and the one that would give him so much pain over the years) was a deformed cranium. His saintly mother, being blessed by Gawd loved him dearly. His father was rather disenchanted with the child, despite having been blessed himself with an immaculate erection with which to create the wonder that would become the President In Waiting. (For quite some time, the President In Waiting’s father was unknown. This biographer, however, has spoken to Ralph and attained permission to print the aforesaid father's identity. It was none other than Dark Lord of the Sith Vader - he who would bring balance to the Force.) They named him Ralphie Georgeous, and his surname was DiddleFiddle.
Ralph DiddleFiddle grew to be a somewhat weak young man. (It has been theorized that this was in fact a ruse perpetrated by Ralph himself, so as to experience what the weak had to endure so as to save them later with his great sacrifice.) Nevertheless, by the time 1969 had rolled in, he was already developing those characteristics that would make him the "great one". It was also in 1969 that he first became acquainted with what he would later scorn, the Libtards.
Local children in his neighborhood were quite cruel to Ralph, due to his misshapen skull. The evil names that flowed from their lips wounded him greatly..."pinhead"..."pokernoggin"..."peckerhead". It was then that he learned what really caused them to tease him mercilessly, from his friend Stubby.(Stubby was also a malformed yet great youth, who had the unfortunate curse of being born a turdbaby with bucked teeth.) Stubby insisted that these children were Liberals, and that they hated all that was good and holy in life. Ralph soon learned through their mercilessness and cruelty that this was the truth.
The neighborhood children constantly gave him grief. He tried to proselytize to them, to give them prophetic knowledge. They laughed. He offered to tutor them in real Conservative values. They derided him. Is there any wonder to the evilness that a liberal represents? To Ralph, there was no doubt. He therefore at that young age rejected Liberalism. Rejected the free love of the Hippie movement(those dirty bastard Satan-worshipping heathens).
Time marched on, and Ralph DiddleFiddle grew into manhood. His teen years were uneventful until the year 1981, when he joined his high school's debate team. A President was elected in that year, a great and noble prophet of the future, named Ronnie Ray-gun. Ralph became enamored with him, and emulated the greatness of the man at every opportunity. The sudden stops in speech, the mysterious memory loss...all those became Ralph's keys in debate. And he was a fluid and fierce debater! One could hear his voice (gravelly, though melodic) echo through the halls:
"ROOSTERFELT WAS A DEMLIB HATER! HE CAN'T EVEN THINK! SOCIALIST! COMMUNIST! FILLED WITH HATE! AMERICA-HATE, FREEDOM-HATE! BWHAHAHAHAAAA!!!"
His opponents would wither under the intensity of his power, and Ralph DiddleFiddle knew he was on his way!
Ralph graduated from high school, and eschewed college education due to the dangers of intermingling with evil liberal ideas. Instead he entered the workforce, and through extreme power of will became the manager for a local media conglomerate (The T-Shirt Shack of Ohio). Through his connections he steadily gained momentum in a bid for county constable, and his speech at the local meet and greet was a shining moment for Conservative values:
"I'M HERE FOR ALL THE REAL COMMUNITY CHRISTIANS! WE WILL STOP THOSE LIBTARDED IDEALS! NO MORE MIRANDA! NO MORE WARRANTS! DOWN WITH THE DEMOCRAPS!"
Ralph was quite destroyed however, when he failed to secure the constabulary seat. He brought to attention the hanging chads on ballots, but of course the liberal machine suppressed him. He went back to work, performing his duties with the same dedication, producing the world's greatest t-shirts and sloganeering to the world of liberal evil on them. At night he would immerse himself in "the good book", and speak to Gawd, who quelled Ralph's fears by explaining that soon he would be great among men!
Ralph also became enamored of a local girl, named Phyllus Smegma. They married and began to bring into the world two lovely children, Armageddon and Rapture DiddleFiddle. There was a third child named Ragnarok, who unfortunately was stolen away by Cuban slavers and forced to work on a sugar cane plantation. Ralph and Phyllus never laid eyes on him again. When I asked Ralph his feelings on Ragnarok he stated:
"HE'S A DEMLIB!!! HE CAN'T EVEN THINK! A DIRTY CASTRO LOVING LIBOTARD!!!!"
When I pointed out that the child could hardly help being abducted, Ralph explained the situation to me:
"HE COULD HAVE LEFT ANYTIME! BUT HE CAN'T EVEN THINK!"
Duly chastised, I left him to his pain on the subject and moved on.
Armageddon and Rapture were the light in Ralph's heart, and to keep an uncaring public from belittling them over their shortcomings (both have watermelon heads) he hid them away in a forest retreat deep in Ohio's woodland. There he returned to working t-shirts and studying to become America's Greatest President.
3: The evil that PIAPS do.
In 1992, Ralph was an industrious man. Still managing the Ohio Branch T-shirt Shack, he had collected a vast nest egg for a campaign bid (some $240) and had bought the prerequisite suit and tie. Knowing he was far too late to be in the race that year, he watched the election vigorously, noting the tactics and demeanor of all and scoping out the libtards wherever he could.
It was there that he saw her. She was sitting behind her husband, the Libtard Democraptic candidate. She wasn't that large of a woman like his dear Phyllus, nor did she have the humongous cauliflower ears of his beloved wife. Ralph was smitten. He vowed this pant-suited vixen would be his, and promptly began studying Mormonism in a bid to change his religious directions. After finding that polygamy was not allowed to Mormons anymore, he threw all caution to the wind and sought this woman as his own, this Hillary Clinton.
Ralph withdrew his campaign funds from the savings account and, taking the money, bought a bus ticket for Arkansas where he knew she and that LIBTARD husband of hers lived other than Washington. Telling Phyllus and the girls he was off to a Sweater convention, he boarded the bus for the long crawl to Arkansas, a song in his heart. He arrived four days later and began to seek his newfound love out.
Finding the Clinton home was not easy but he was a determined man. Sneaking around the back in a black uniform and mask, he avoided those CIA men(good Americans all!) to approach the rear windows of the house. Jimmying a lock, he crawled into a parlor and waited. Soon she arrived and though he thought he should wait, he immediately popped up and began espousing his undying devotion. Even though she was a "LIBTARD'S WIFE!" To his horror, she not only spurned him but called those agents to take him away.
After questioning him at length, the CIA and the now evil "PIAPS!!!" released him into the street(it has been speculated that they called him a “masturbating nutcase with PIAPS derangement syndrome”, but this has never been proven). He howled into the night his anger and sexual frustration:
"I'LL GET YOU MY PIAPS! AND YOUR LIBTARD HUSBAND TOO!"
Ralph caught the bus as quickly as he could to distance himself from his shame. Four days later he returned home, his tears fully dried and the vengeance of the righteous in his heart. Phyllus was angry, yet she understood his desire for power and forgave him. Ralph however, could not forgive the evil woman who took his heart.
4: It protects from the Liberalness.
Ralph became fixated on the Clintons and their evil. He knew for a fact that they were spying on him now. He knew that PIAPS' libtard husband feared his manly prowess. Then one day he had an epiphany whilst inspecting his cone shaped cranium in the mirror.
A box of Reynolds Wrap later, he could finally plot in peace.
He began to scrimp and save for another bid at the presidency. This time he would not be denied! Working in his basement, surrounded by his arsenal and his Pit Bulls, he thought manly thoughts as hard as he could think. Finally after 7 years of waiting he knew what he must do.....
HE MUST GO VIRAL ON THE INTERNET!
He bought a computer. In that year the Libtard was facing off against a real American by the name of George Bush. Ralph was in a quandry, as here was a man who fit Ralph in almost every way. Some ISLAMOFASCISTS attacked America in the first year of this newcomer's watch, and Ralph was stunned by the honorable and incredibly decisive actions taken. Certainly it stung Ralph to hear him being called "America's Greatest President", but that soon passed as war was instigated in two areas of the world that were filled with FREEDOM-HATERS.
Ralph began to pray unceasingly to Gawd for what to do. Days upon days passed whilst Ralph sought his Gawd's directive. All he could do was make T-shirts and pray. He didn't even stop to bathe (As acknowledged by coworkers which this biographer spoke to. As one coworker who knew Ralph day to day would tell me, "He's a fucking nasty son of a bitch. I hope he dies."). After 3 months of solid seeking, Ralph had his answer! This was the John the Baptist to his Christ! This man, this Bush, was the precursor to Ralph's conquering of the great libtard nation! He would support him fully.
Ralph got up, turned on his computer and began to berate those evil libtards. He praised this Bush, supported his every action. Even the fart-lighting was needed:
"IT'S INCENSE TO GAWD! AMERICA'S (SECOND) GREATEST PRESIDENT! YOU LIBTARDS CAN'T EVEN THINK! GAWD-HATE, FREEDOM-HATE!...."
Even so, Ralph realized that this president had flaws. He was not the perfection that Ralph was. Ralph continued his support however, knowing that he was building his name and base. Eight years rolled by while Ralph studiously defended and lauded this second best man, while he built his empire.
Then in 2008, the election came round and Ralph decided that he no longer needed the old remnants of his former life. He emulated a Libtard he'd read about, and made his name monosyllabic (PRINCE). From that time on, he was no longer Ralph DiddleFiddle, but just RALPH the PROPHET!
Ralph now has a rabid following, and his bid for the presidency of America is coming to fruition. Like a weed growing through the tough concrete of Ohio's ghetto, he's standing tall for all that is RIGHT and HOLY in America.
5: In closing.
In the writing of this piece, I have been approached by many Democraps asking me some of the most foolish questions. Like:
"Who is RALPH?"
"Is he insane?"
"Why does he have a tinfoil hat?"
But the most incredible question, the most foolish, is the one that was asked me by a young Demotard in Montana:
"What makes you think he can defeat us, the LIBTARD ARMY?"
Such a moronic question deserves no answer, but I gave him the truth anyway to teach this socialist-commie demon:
"BECAUSE RALPH SAYS SO! LIBTARDS CAN'T EVEN THINK!"
And with that, I hail America's Greatest President in Waiting!
Thursday, January 10, 2008
They love him in Littleton; he's knocked 'em dead in Nashua; he's the Pride of Portsmouth, the King of Concord. I am referring of course, to Konservo, who won 1,735 votes in the New Hampshire primary.
"Which is about 1,734 more than I’d expected," said superblogger Zen Caviar, shaking his head. "For someone who’s only been campaigning for a month, and whose favorite outfit is gold lamé with a mink stole, and whose main campaign promise is to index all worldwide currencies to diamond jewelry - this is positively earth-shaking - it's cataclysmic - the man is a veritable tsunami!"
The candidate himself was astonished. Speaking from the Naswa Resort in Weirs Beach, he repeatedly wiped the tears from his cheeks as he gushed, "You are wonderful! Wonderful! I love you from the bottom of my heart! I want to hug and kiss you all, I want to make love to all of you! You've given meaning and purpose to my life! I see God in all your faces!" He stopped to wipe his eyes and sip from his glass of champagne; then, hitching his skirt up above his knees and turning to wiggle his butt at the crowd, he added, "Hey, Ralphy! Are you listening? I am a star! Spread that on your doughnut and eat it!"
We don’t have RALPH’s reaction. When last seen, he was putting copies of The Morning After on windshields at Dubois Mall in Dubois, Pennsylvania - and later running madly as two policemen pursued him down Bee Line Highway.
Monday, January 7, 2008
When his campaign trailer reached Cleveland, sometime on Friday, the Candidate began finding a number of pretexts to stop. "He stopped for coffee three times in an hour; the next hour he stopped to go to the washroom seven times," said a campaign insider who wouldn’t give his name. "Now his detractors might accuse him of getting cold feet, but think about it. Coffee - washrooms. Eh?"
Campaign Blat, accompanying Konservo on the piano at a stump speech in Plymouth, New Hampshire, wasn’t so charitable. "He’s scared to set foot in New York or New England. You know - PIAPS country. Hotbeds of liberalism. Everyone out to get him, even more than usual."
By Saturday evening RALPH’s had reached western Pennsylvania, where they stopped at the Elephant and Castle in Grove City for dinner. Perhaps it was anxiety, fuelled by a few pints of draft, that caused him to suddenly climb atop the bar and rant:
"PIAPS IS COMING!!! PIAPS IS COMING!!! I AM RISKING MY LIFE ON A DAILY BASIS TO WARN AMERICA!! PROTECT YOUR COMMUNITY, YOUR FAMILIES AND YOUR PETS!! HER AGENTS ARE EVERYWHERE!! THE KING OF NORWAY IS HER AGENT!! THE POPE IS HER AGENT!! MIKE HUCKABEE IS HER AGENT!! EVEN SANTA CLAUS IS HER AGENT!! THERE IS NO SAFETY ANYWHERE FOR THOSE WHO LOVE AMERICA!!!"
"I ENTREAT YOU ALL TO TAKE ACTION!! HANG SIGNS ON HIGHWAY OVERPASSES, ROOF TOP AND PIAPS-RALLY LOCATIONS: "9/11 WAS A PIAPS JOB", OSAMA LOVES PIAPS" ET CETERA. TAKE THE COPY OF THE MORNING AFTER WHICH IS EVEN NOW BEING HANDED OUT BY MEMBERS OF MY CAMPAIGN TEAM, AND TAKE IT TO YOUR PASTORS. URGE THEM TO ORGANIZE STUDIES OF DANIEL AND REVELATIONS, USING THE MORNING AFTER AS A STUDY GUIDE!!!!! FORWARD IT TO YOUR LOST FRIENDS!!!! I CANNOT OVERESTIMATE THE DANGER TO AMERICA!! TAKE ACTION NOW AND..." but the remainder of his speech was lost in a chorus of gasps and guffaws as the other patrons began reading the sheafs of paper that had just been put into their hands.
After dinner RALPH left town, which was just as well; because complaints were coming in from furious shoppers at Prime Outlets, who had returned to their cars to find "The Morning After" on the windshields. "My ten-year-old daughter took a look at it before I could stop her," wailed one woman. "Now she can’t stop talking about that horrible strap-on - thing! She’ll be scarred for life! I’m going to have to put her on Risperdal. Whoever did this is a menace! He should be locked away for life!"
He appears to be headed eastward on I-76, into the Appalachians.
"He doesn't want to face me," was Konservo's opinion. "He knows that I’ll knock him dead in my purple velvet gown, and he can't even find a comb, let alone a good make-up artist. Come ON, sweetie - I dare you! Come to New Hampshire and look me in the eye!"
California Blat was unavailable for comment, having left Palm Springs early this morning, headed in the general direction of Bakersfield. Hiram T. Peashucker, speaking on his behalf, said: "I done give up tryin to understand Ralphy. Don’t care about him no more anyway. We been havin' us the time of our lives here in Palm Springs. My hotel room is bigger’n my whole cabin back in Copperhead Gulch. I brung my wife out here and she’s been havin’ a great time too, now she’s stopped lookin’ for the outhouse. We’re gonna bide here a little longer - RALPH kin do what he wants."
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Trailer, en route to New Hampshire…5 January 2008...1:15AM PST
Not to be outdone by Christian broadcaster Pat Robertson, whose annual revelations from his traditional New Year’s chit-chat with the Supreme Being were announced earlier this week, Presidential Candidate RALPH of the troubled Ralph/Blat 2008 campaign recently spent an hour in the men’s room of the Plaid Pantry attached to the nearest Shell station, and emerged with a set of astonishing predictions for the year ahead. His formal announcement was released at the Super 8 Motel on Interstate 80 in Mishawaka, Indiana, where the candidate’s Winnebago made a brief stop en route to further campaign events in New Hampshire prior to this coming Tuesday’s primary.
Perhaps inspired by the surroundings of his impromptu retreat, RALPH stated that it had been revealed to him that numerous political figures and celebrities besides Idaho Senator Larry Craig would come forward as having “a wide stance” in 2008. Among the names mentioned by the candidate were Michael Jackson, Donald Trump, former Attorney General Alberto Gonzales, Madonna, and Sanjaya Malakar of American Idol fame. He went on to suggest that these luminaries would give up their careers – such as they presently are – to form a percussion band based on synchronized toe-tapping.
RALPH also had harsh and cautionary words for the nation’s doting pet owners, urging all American families to protect their domestic animals by keeping them in windowless rooms reinforced with plastic tarps and duct tape. “PIAPS AND HER FREAKING DOUGHNUT-BUMPING HORDES CAN STRIKE AT ANY TIME,” he stated for the record, “AND IT WON’T MATTER TO HER WHETHER IT’S A PARAKEET, A POMERANIAN OR A PORPOISE – SHE’LL STOP AT NOTHING!!” He added that our precious pets should also have access to “Life Alert” buttons, “OnStar” GPS assistance, the remarkable stick-on “Handy Switch” and be able to use “The Clapper” to turn lights off and on in their sealed bunkers. (One reporter, speaking out of order, asked how creatures without opposable thumbs or basic English language skills would be able to take advantage of these devices; RALPH immediately dispatched newly-hired campaign consultant Billy Mays to take the presumptious journalist down under a barrage of OxiClean and KABOOM!)
The price of oil was another concern addressed by RALPH. “THE LORD HAS TOLD ME THAT WE MUST ALL SWITCH TO OLIVE OIL TO POWER OUR VEHICLES!” he insisted, going on to show an “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter” commercial on his cell phone and extolling the virtues of all things Mediterranean. On a related subject, he stated that God wants all new SUVs to be capable of transforming themselves into hovercraft, submarines and helicopters, “EVERYONE KNOWS JESUS WANTS TO TRANSFORM US, SO THAT MEANS WE HAVE TO DRIVE TRANSFORMERS!!!” Naturally, he advocated a substantial tax credit for new buyers of such multi-purpose vehicles.
On the subject of terrorism, RALPH’s predictions were less definitive. “WE CANNOT AFFORD TO BE LUKEWARM! LUKEWARM!! LUKEWARM!!! ABOUT TERRORISM. JIHAD-SITES AND DEMLIB BLOGS CONTINUE TO INCITE RALPH-HATE, RAPTURE-HATE, THE-MORNING-AFTER-HATE AND INSIGHTFUL-MINISTRY-AND-REPORTING-HATE ON A GLOBAL SCALE!!!! ALL POSTS THAT DO NOT APPEAR COMPLETELY IN CAPS ARE SUSPECT!!!! NOT TO MENTION EXPOSED!!!!!!!!” He did suggest that a blogger failing to pay at a Carl’s Jr. drive-thru sometime during 2008 was a strong possibility, as was that the sun would continue to rise in the East at earlier and earlier times during the months to come…until the latter part of June, when the trend would alarmingly reverse itself. He cited Revelations and Daniel as the source for this amazing discovery.
Were any particular cities or regions under an unusually grave terror threat? After noting the usual suspects such as San Francisco, the Pacific Northwest, New England, and in general all other worldwide locations not considered U.S. territories, RALPH then stunned the press corps by specifically calling out Pretty Prairie, Kansas (pop. 615) as a “HIGH-PROFILE TARGET,” urging the diversion not just of several military units to the town’s protection, but also the marshalling of numerous Polly Pocket playsets from Mattel, apparently in the hope that the alliterative similarity would confuse any terrorist organization, thus containing the damage to a massive meltdown of orange and purple plastics.
RALPH refused to elaborate on any of these prophecies or to answer any questions regarding the burgeoning challenge by his estranged adherent Konservo for the Troll Party nomination. He paused only long enough to unveil a banner reading “AMERICAPHILE!!!!! R O T F L M A O!!!!! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!” on an I-80 freeway overpass before continuing his journey.
Reporters seeking Konservo out for direct comment on RALPH’s press conference were unable to converse in person, as Konservo had wrangled a lift to New Hampshire aboard Fred Thompson’s private jet, promising Thompson’s glamorous trophy wife Jeri the manicure of a lifetime and lots of dishy in-flight gossip. However, they did reach him briefly via cell phone just upon arrival in Concord, New Hampshire. Konservo offered his own predictions for 2008, including that rich plum would be the “new black” for the autumn campaign season, that Les Mis would finally close on Broadway early in the New Year, and that not only would Britney Spears regain custody of her children by Spring, but that they would all shave their heads as a family and join the Hare Krishnas, inspiring a new saffron yellow trend for summer. He added that RALPH’s proposed economic stimulus package was “hogwash” and that his own proposed plan to index all worldwide currencies to diamond jewelry was “simply the ONLY way to go, dah-ling.”
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