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Detention Diary: Christmas Comes Early For Political Prisoners
WEEK FIFTEEN
"Psst. Come with me."
The door to my cell was open. A woman was beckoning me to follow her out of it. Okay, she was in uniform, which could have been a buzz kill if I let it. However, this was my dream, so I wasn't going to let such details kill the buzz.
I followed the woman down several halls. "Where are you taking me?" I asked.
"We need a star for our Christmas tree," she answered. I was pretty sure it wasn't December, but there is no concept of time in the unconscious, so I decided to go with it.
We took an elevator to the basement. In a wide hall in the basement, two soldiers were standing in front of several naked Arab men.
"Wha...why aren't they wearing any clothes?" I asked.
"Their clothes are in the laundry," the woman told me. "You know, come to think of it, you've been wearing the same clothes for several weeks. Don't you think it's time for your clothes to be washed? Why don't you take them off and give them to me?"
Now, ordinarily, when a woman in my dreams suggests that I take off my clothes, I quickly obey. (Well, except for the one time the woman in the dream was Margaret Thatcher, but that's perfectly understandable.) However, this time was different. The female guard's head was momentarily replaced by the cockroach's head, which shook violently.
"I...I wouldn't want to get cold," I demurred.
"This is a federal facility," the female guard icily argued. "We maintain a constant temperature of 72 Fahrenheit degrees, as mandated by the Incarcerating Scumbags Act of 1937. Come on, it can't be pleasant being in those clothes. Give them to me."
I shrugged against the wall, wrapping my arms around myself.
The female guard took out her gun. "I insist," she insisted.
I took my clothes off.
While the female guard and I were bantering about my attire, the other guards had hustled the Arab men into a rough pyramid. "Now, climb on top," the female guard ordered me.
"Why?" I croaked.
"It's our Christmas card for the Pentagon," one of the male guards sneered.
"It isn't Christmas," I pointed out. "Is it?"
"Yeah," the male guard continued. "You're just the kind of scumbag who would leave his Christmas card signing to the last minute, aren't you? Get on the pile, asshole!"
"It will look good in your file if you cooperate," the female guard told me, although the way she was brandishing her gun suggested that I really didn't have much of a choice.
I climbed to the top of the pile. The other male guard took out a digital camera and started taking pictures.
I'd like to think that somewhere in the Pentagon, a high-ranking CIA agent has a Christmas Card with me acting as the star on top of a tree of naked brown men. But, dreams don't manifest themselves in real life, do they?
SOURCE: Harpo's
[http://harpos.org/archive/2012/04/15/dd-9000015]
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The Harper Government of Canada has stated categorically that it will not pay more than the original $15 billion price for American F-35 fighter planes. Of course, by the time they are ready to be delivered, that may only cover the cost of one...
SOURCE: Ottawa Stunned
[http://www.canoodle.com/NewsStand/OttawaStunned/News/2012/04/02/509727.html]
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SOURCE: Les Pages aux Folles
[http://www.lespagesauxfolles.ca]
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Four Lies Add Up To One Truth
SOURCE: Politics For Dummies
[http://www.politicsfordummies.com/home.asp?did=745&dir=bb]
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Season's Beatings!
Three people were killed and 27 injured when an Easter egg hunt in Pergammy, South Alabammy went horribly, horribly wrong.
"The adults stormed the barrier before the hunt began," said shocked professional volunteer Peggy Astridson. "Oh, the humanity! The eggy, colourfully dyed humanity!"
Could the adults have been reacting to news that there was an Easter egg shortage in Europe due to the introduction of rules banning battery cages for hens? "Naah," said volunteer professional Astrid Peggyson. "They was just greedy bastahds, innit?"
Meanwhile, Australia seems to want to replace the Easter Bunny with the Easter Bilby, a long-nosed rat-like animal native to the country's desert. Is this a reflection of Australian disgust with the North American commercialization of the holiday? "Not so much, no," said professional Easter egg wrangler Bertie Bomcomb. "Our young'un's just like playin' with their Bilbys!"
Why does everything Australians say sound dirty?
SOURCE: Unicycle
[http://www.unicycle.com/new.php?p=articles&id=522&but=allis1]
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Or, Perhaps He Was Signalling To Israel That It Was Okay To Bomb Iran - Hand Signs Are Notoriously Easy To Misinterpret
A photo was just released of President Obama and Nichelle Nichols, who played Lieutenant Uhura on the original Star Trek, making the Vulcan sign with their hands in the Oval Office. Fox News immediately reported that the President made the secret sign telling the Black Panthers to activate the death panels that would take away people's guns and kill their grandmothers.
SOURCE: Late Tonight with David Lenoman
[http://marketing.ubs.com/latetonight/latetonightshow/monologue]
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Oh, Please! Don't You Know It's Not The Size Of The Horn On Your Forehead That Counts - It's The Way You Lord It Over Other People!
I think I know why working people so often vote against their own interests. It's because they spend too much time with working people.
Seriously. They see each other cheat on their spouses, fiddle their taxes, find ways to goof off of work or otherwise behave badly, and they say to themselves, "I don't want to make common cause with this lot!"
Rich people, on the other hand, are like unicorns to them: distant, dream-like creatures that working people project their fantasies onto because they have never actually had any experience with them.
Of course, unicorns probably shit on your sofa and maim folks when they try to sniff their butts. Just like rich people. But, working people don't know that because they never have contact with the creatures, do they?
SOURCE: Bill's Bitter Pills
[http://bill.geekgoons.com/]
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Carrying A Concealed Fake Weapon With Intent To Squirt - The Crime Nobody Wants To Talk About!
A man was arrested at the Republican National Convention on suspicion of carrying a squirt gun. "We thought he might spray a delegate with some kind of coloured dye," said Tampa police chief Ernesto Snoopy. "Anti-Republican activists will go to any lengths to embarrass the party!"
Shadrach Meeshack was quietly let go 10 minutes later when it turned out that the weapon he was carrying was an actual gun. "My Ruger was in the shop - I had been having trouble with the firing pin - so I was packing Amanda's My First Semi-automatic," Meeshack explained. "Amanda - that's my four year-old daughter. Anyway, it does kind of look like a squirt gun, but I would have thought that police professionals would have been able to tell the difference."
Snoopy was quick to apologize. Then, he pointed out that his hands were tied by the city law that temporarily banned clubs, hatchets, switchblades, pepper spray, slingshots and, yes, squirt guns from the downtown core and the state law that forbade local governments from imposing any limits on the sale, possession, or use of firearms.
"Please don't sue us," Snoopy whimpered.
SOURCE: Alternate Reality News Service
[http://www.arns.com/sinbin?id=32350641889641312067fx]
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