DavidS
, in Natter:
Scenario: Tip O'Neill's hanging out at the gates of heaven, having a smoke. Satan walks by and says, "Tip, how'd you like to see the Red Sox win the World Series. I can pull a few strings."
Tip gives him the stinkeye. "...And?"
Satan, "Bush gets four more years."
"Awww, fuck that. Get out of here before I call St. Michael on ya."
"Hear me out. They come back from three down against the Yankees in the playoffs. Then they totally humiliate them."
"No w-....Hmmm. Three down you say?"
NovaChild in Bitches on politics:
I can hear the slogans now:
My daddy ran the Country,
My brother ran it too,
Vote for me in 2008
And I'll fight a war for you!
In Bitches, some literary humor to start the morning:
Betsy HP:
There's a lot of that going on. "An Irish Air-man Foreseese His Death" (which I've always loved) is about Lady Gregory's son, who, whoops, died. (I forget if he died first then poem or poem first, then died. One likes to think the first or Lady Gregory would have had a right to be miffed. At Yeats, not the son.
Burrell:
Betsy, the young man died first. The poem was meant as a tribute to him.
Betsy HP:
It's a fabulous poem. If you're going to lose your only son, it's a good thing to have Yeats around.
Jen:
Hell, if you're only going to the bathroom, it's a good thing to have Yeats around.
Betsy HP:
Back off! Do not pee on the Irish poet laureate!
Polter-Cow:
Things fall apart, the bladder cannot hold.
Jim in Natter:
have this sneaking feeling that had Kerry looked even 10% less like a cross between Frankenstein and an Ent, he'd be president now
Thanks for the chuckle, Jim! It was much needed this morning.
on Allegory
Gudanov:
You just have to be subtle.
Heratio was urging the horses drawing his wagon to as much haste as possible, when he turned a curve in the road and ran over some woman with long blonde hair who was too busy yelling insults to see the wagon coming.