Scribe offers two fictional shorts just to make a few valid, chuckle-based, points…
Broken Record
Scribe was at a party and the host, a Neo-Con, was playing a record. It was skipping, “Weapons of mass destruction, weapons of mass…
The player, a rather odd looking contraption: short, stupid looking, sort of human-like in an evil, satanic way… amazing how some appearances are deceiving, and some aren’t… was in the corner. Scribe gave it one swift kick in what was shaped like a crotch.
Scratch…
“Give the surge time to work, give the surge time to work…”
“Son of a bitch,” Scribe cursed, “whatever happened to decent, intelligent, less-propagandistic sounding records?”
He kicked it again.
On and on the evening went with the record skipping and spewing the same inane talking points like “Stay the course,” “it’s never been ‘stay the course,’” and labeling all those in Iraq who resist, or even disagree with, occupation as al Qaeda instead of “insurgent,” or even just a “tortured free speech advocate with a bag over his head.”
“Scribe, what in the ^%$#@! are you doing?”
“Um, your record player isn’t working right you Nazi-Neo-Con FUC…”
“That’s the way I like it, Scribe…”
Then the SS showed up to escort Scribe out of the party. Did Scribe type “SS?” He meant Homeland Security, or the FBI, or the Supremes…
With Junior in control… is there a difference these days?
Dana Dies
Dana Perino, Junior’s helium addicted spokes-bitch, was doing her usual high voiced act, talking as fast as she can. Scribe had snuck into the briefing disguised as a helium vendor. Hippies must have their pot. Junior must have his war-based, hit-like, murder sprees. Gonzo must have his torture. Condi is addicted to smiling so much she has to use an extra-wide paint brush to slather ten gallons of starch on her lips every morning. Of course, they’re ALL addicted to lying.
But Dana? This Fem-bot-spokes-liar must have her helium. That’s why she not only speaks fast but sounds like a Munchkin.
The controls? They prop her up and feed them under the podium where the helium controller regulates both pitch and helium flow.
Scribe had brought his friend Bartcop along with him.
“Why did you bring me here, Scribe?”
That’s BC.
“Well, I know you refer to them as the BFEE, but I just wanted you to see how managed they are; how mechanized, why they regurgitate as if they were programmed by Rove. That’s because they are. Watch…
Scribe turned up the helium. The voice went higher. He raised the pitch control… Dana’s words flew by faster.
“Look, Scribe, I don’t want to even be around these criminals. If you keep doing that, we’ll get caught, so stop, stop, damn it, STOP…”
When Bart grabbed the control box he accidently hit both the helium control and the pitch…
Faster, faster, higher pitch, faster, higher pitch, faster, higher pitch….
Explode… and then candy spewed all over the press room. Like little kids the press started shoving it into their pockets, down their pants, into their bras…
Scribe said, “I didn’t know she was a pinata too. They’re too busy to notice, let’s get the HELL out of here Bart. I don’t know about you, but I’m certainly not going to warn the FOX folks about those apples that they’re grabbing. I know those are White House Halloween candy leftovers and Junior put razor blades in them.
“Junior did that? Well, that doesn’t surprise me at all Scribe.”