We needed some Spanish around here. For Jeff and Armando:

Candidatos venden chácharas para sobrevivir

Ciudad de México – Tras un castigo presupuestal del IFE, debido a los excesos económicos y pobreza en propuestas, las incomparablemente patéticas campañas presidenciales han recurrido a un giro mercadotécnico sorprendente: la venta de un producto promocional que les permitirá generar los ingresos necesarios a sus campañas.

Durante un juego de la selección de fútbol, en el medio tiempo, salió al aire el primer comercial de “PRI-merClean”, un detergente viscoso tricolor con el lema “Dale un Madrazo al Pasado”. El candidato priísta aparecía sonriente, cantando con un tonito pegajoso: “¡No hay mancha tan fuerte, ni fango tan hondo, que no quite a fondo, nuevo PRI-merClean!”

City Dog Catcher of Reno, NV Endorses Mike Gravel

Reno, NV – Local Dog Catcher Joe Karren has announced he will be endorsing Democratic Nominee hopeful Mike Gravel. He even called the campaign headquarters himself to let them know he was firmly in their camp and planned on a press conference at the local diner, Angie’s Spot, to formally announce.

“I was shocked Mr. Gravel picked up the phone,” said Karren, whose support is supposed to bring in at least 2 votes for the Gravel ticket. “Even more shocking was when he said he would actually show up to my presser. I was just joking, I was really just going for a cup of coffee. But now he is coming, I feel like I gotta get a banner or something.”

“It’s about meeting the people,” said Mike Gravel, who once led a filibuster that led to the end of the Vietnam War, and who was shat upon at last summer’s Yearly  Kos. “About meeting one voter at a time.”

If Gravel completes his quest to meet every voter in America, he will be prime to win the nomination in 3012.

When you close your eyes and become a viking, do you actually become a viking in a realm far, far away?  I have often wondered about this, does your soul go on holiday when the sand man comes? Does your essence travel the universe leaving just your body here while you sleep?

I have long believed that our entire universe is just an quantum reaction to a system above us. And that our own atomic reactions are entire big bangs to implosions of universes below us. In a mobius strip structure, the loop of bigger to smaller is infinitely looping. To where the system above us is actually infinitely big, but going down the other direction of the mobius strip it is infinitely small. Vice versa for the one below us.

There are also infinite dimensions that have branched off in what we consider to our universe-centric spot on the mobius strip. In another dimension on this same spot, you never read this, and a whole new universe was created. Not only are the chains infinitely big and small below us, each level is also infinitely dense.

Poor Grandpa Fred, he has no idea where he is or what he is doing. Thank god that trophy wife of his helps pull his puppet strings all day, or he might just sit in a chair all day demanding more go-carts on his pancakes. But now that they have trotted the zombie remains of Ronald Reagan out on the road and into the public sphere, let the gaffes begin!

Today Grandpa Fred was in Florida, where he signed autographs, and unfortunately talked to the cameras.

How to be a paparazzi in London

I have had many jobs in many lands, some more honorable than others. But at the end of the day, they were all amusing. And one of the most amusing ones was my time as a paparazzi. And as with most of my dealings with the world, I had to do it in style. I worked for the most notorious paparazzi in the world, Big Pictures. Some might wonder how does one become a paparazzi, since you can’t exactly put your resume in somewhere. Well, here is how to be one in London, England.

Washington, D.C. – What began as chance meeting during a morning jog snowballed into a screwball comedy of errors as President George W. Bush met his exact look-a-like in a transient by the name of George Burnswick. After a heartfelt speech by President Bush to his Secret Service Agents about his need to get back to the people, the two men decided to switch places for a week. Formerly homeless Burnswick would take the helm of one of the most powerful nations in history, while Mr. Bush would take over Mr. Burnswick’s role of screaming at cars on random corners and digging through trash cans for lunch.

The men’s switch went seamlessly, in a transition only noticed by Karl Rove, who was already getting his media puppet strings ready to cash in on the delightful affair. Though there were some madcap capers as each man adjusted to the life of the other.

“How hard can this job be?” said Mr. Burnswick from the decadent leisure of the Oval Office. “Cheney practically runs the show here, and whatever is leftover goes to Karl Rove and his pack of hounds. All I do is rubber stamp bullshit and take full advantage of the buffet. Life is good for Burnswick. Did you know I can call anyone in the world? Right now? Before I had to wait 6 months to talk to a lowly case worker.”

Kennebunkport, Maine  – Dissent was the word of the day last week when Osama Bin Laden received his copy of the script for his video released last weekend. After what was described as near total meltdown in his trailer on-location in Kennebunkport, Maine, Bin Laden at first refused to shoot the latest installment of the War on Terror.

“This is always what happens when a show fires its writers,” said a distraught BIn Laden, who has captivated the country’s fascination with his betrayal of a blood thirsty mullah. “I just knew when they let Karl Rove go, the quality of writing would just fall to the floor. I don’t know whose ratings are going to be worse, President Bush’s or ours.”

“Remember when Karl wrote that piece where I praised Kerry, like he was my best friend in the world and I wanted to basically get him a pony? America loved that episode. How else can you explain how a country would re-elect a cowboy who is afraid of horses?” Bin Laden continued, as make-up dyed his beard back to show quality black. “Man, I used to put the fear of God into Americans. Rove knew just how to push the audiences buttons, keeping them on the edge of their seats.”

In Honor of buhdydharma’s successful move to Mexico and blog launch:

Please Drop The Torta
by Dog Staring Intently at You

So, I noticed you got a torta there. Nice torta, I might say. You got that at Ruchi’s, or is that possibly from Torta Mundo? See, I am what you could say a connoisseur of tortas. I even spotted you holding that torta from across the Jardín. But I noticed, you have not dropped the torta.

Okay, we both got all day, but that torta needs to take a fall. While you talk to your friend there, that torta is just dangling in your hand. You neglect your torta, while I cherish the ground it walks on. Speaking of the ground, please drop that torta there.

How can you resist my puppy seal stare? I worked on this sad look for hours back in the old days in Colonia San Rafael. It was not until I was able to bring tears to even the most hardened hearts with my big brown eyes did I earn the right to be a street dog in el Centro. Yet, you are resistant to my well-honed skills, refusing to drop that torta.

Please drop the torta. No? Oh please, oh please, oh please? Still no?
That’s cool. This one time, back in September, this totally drunk dude spilled trying to sit down on that very bench. And this dude, right, he totally dumps a whole box of pizza all over the ground when he bit it. I’m more of a torta dog myself, as you well know, but this was from Juanita’s. That’s choice. But the dude gets up, all pissed off you know, because of the pizza, and starts just flailing away with his arms and screaming and jumping up and down. Well, you know what kind of effect that could have on a drunk dude, and he totally blows chunks all over the bench. But get this, he totally misses the pizza. I ate well that night. I was hoping this long rambling tale would lure you to sleep, so you would drop that torta, helping to bring back those good well-fed times.

Oh, that was just cruel. Did you just pull off some bread for that pigeon, that rat with wings, just to spite me? What do you have against other mammals? Are you leading me to believe that if I walk around like a bad caricature of a 70s pimp going cooo cooo cooo, I am then worthy of that torta? Sir, please, let’s digress, and just drop that torta.

We’ve been at this for, what, 10 minutes now, and not only have you not dropped that torta, you haven’t even eaten it. While I have stared holes through you, using all my Jedi skills to get you to drop that torta, you have regaled your friend there with the latest cantina gossip. That’s great what that dude said after his fifth tequila, but you have wandered off from the issue at hand, the torta. And while she found what he said flattering, while in its own right funny as all heck, that jamon con queso amarillo should be the center of all of our attentions. I know it is mine. Please drop the torta.

No? Oh, well, okay then, I will just sit here and stare and stare and stare and stare…

——-

¡Viva Mexico cabrón, don’t ever be the dog with two tortas, or with none!

When I walk around Midtown Manhattan with the Midwestern tourist, I truly am lost in the supermarket of cultures. I can no longer shop happily. So of course my inclination was to do the slugliest of articles called: “The Time of Their Life: A Day in the Life of Midwestern Tourist in Times Square.” But the more I thought about it the more I was unable to write it. Who was I to say that their ability to stare up straight into the sky like turkey in a rainstorm was not an asset? Who is to say what is right or wrong in this day and age? Why, with all our modern ideas, and products!

I did a lot of soul searching about if I was being judgmental and condescending against these simple rotund  beasts. Since the closer you are to a problem the harder it is to view it clearly, other New Yorkers were not much help. This is mainly  due to the basic image these tourist generate for themselves by their actions while moving in herds on the busiest of streets.

So I knew I had to reach out to an old Instant Messenger Buddy and luckily he was on-line. So I had an impromptu to IM session with him. A few basic changes were made to the grammar to make it more readable, but here is the unedited version of my chat session with God.