Governor Shakedown interrupted his jogging long enough to grant his loyal subjects a presser.
And it went a little something like this…
Turns out, when you read the ingredients list on the side of the box, the presser came with twice as many lawyers as actual governors, but hey.
Also the governor’s not gonna apologize for loving sick children and da elderly, no matter how hard you try to make him! No he's not!
Ain't gonna explain nuthin'
Ain't gonna answer nuthin'.
Gonna fight fight fight.
But we heard him on tape!
Turns out it was all a merry mixup. A silly mistake.
Just a lot 'a talk. 15-second snippets taken out of context.
And, hey, all da missus did was talk a little smack about da Cubbies, which about half da city woulda agreed wit. Hehehe.
On fucking tape!
Honest... I ran out of gas.
I, I had a flat tire. I didn't have enough money for cab fare.
My tux didn't come back from the cleaners.
An old friend came in from out of town.
Someone stole my car.
There was an earthquake. A terrible flood. Locusts.
IT WASN'T MY FAULT, I SWEAR TO GOD.
Sigh,
Fight, fight. fight!
Sigh.
In other words, he ain’t leaving until he can’t govern no more.
Q: How do you know what da threshold is when he can't govern no more?
A: 4-5 days before Christmas, I cain't tell youze. Tree, four days before Easter, when da Easter bunny comes hoppin', den we can maybe decide.
Also he quoted Kipling’s “If”,
“If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
…”
which I suppose has the kind of mesmerizing, self-mythologizing allure for a megalomaniac sociopath office-holder when he’s cornered and caught cold in the blasting clear, public spotlight with his dick in the proverbial dog, that “Invictus”
…
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
…
had for a domestic terrorist who thought slaughtering government employees and their children was an act of high patriotism.
Because every squirmy, narcissistic breed of devil “can cite Scripture (or poetry) for his purpose.”
Still, if it’s gonna be Kipling, I think this slightly abused sliver of “Gunga Din” is a little more occasion-appropriate:
...
'E'll be squattin' on the coals
Givin' drink to poor damned souls,
An' I'll get a swig in hell from Patrick Quinn!
Yes, Quinn! Quinn! Quinn!
You Lazarushian-leather Patrick Quinn!
Though I've belted you and flayed you,
By the Progressive movement that made you,
You're a better man than I am, Patrick Quinn!
Governor Shakedown also pleaded for a fair and open process, at which point my irony-meter flashed beet-red, screamed, rolled over and died.
3 comments:
you're a heartless taskmaster you are, you are
you're a heartless taskmaster you are!
Thank you for my favorite Belushi quote, which I never tire of reading and laughing along with in memory of his dead-on portrayal of the perfect narcissist (and then as an afterthought, casually dropping his discarded lover (Carrie) into the mud before getting down to "business").
Your personal "beet-red" "irony-meter" dying from shock - hysterically funny image.
You continue to outdo yourself.
Thanks for the presents. You've made this year almost bearable.
Suzan
When you're wounded and left on the Illinois plains, and reporters come out to cut up what remains, jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains and go to your gawd like a soldier.
--Rudyard Nostradamus Kipling
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