Stop and Think

Stop and Think.

I know, I know. Last seen way last year. My only defense is that they have me so well medicated that I've lost a lot of my old Zing. They've got me in a "unit" with nearly normal patients. Very boring. On the good side, I've got a room I can lock from the inside and I can go outside (as far as the fence allows) and frolic in the garden. I like to frolic. It's still very hard to refrain from doing the things I like most. These nearly normal patients aren't interested in flinging food or tormenting the staff. Sucks. Any time I catch myself longing to get naked and hang from a ceiling fan I just stop, and think.

As you all know, this was, and still is, completely alien to my nature. There just isn't enough chaos to entertain me and so little I can do about it. So I've decided to make a passive political statement. I'm going to stop and think. Regularly and to excess. If somebody asks me why I'm just sitting silently, I'll tell them I decided to stop and think. Simple. If they want to know what I'm thinking about I'll tell them how much I fucking HATE the normalcy of my existence and I blame it on all the greasy, blood sucking leaches living on the taxpayers money while achieving NOTHING in WASHINGTON D.C.!!!

It may not be much, but at least somebody might notice that I'm actually, legitimately annoyed, while still passing as marginally normal. (Tee hee!)

Now, YOU, my faithful readers, have much more freedom to stop and think in a way that might actually produce something resembling a positive impact. You have MONEY.

If you're mad about something, and who isn't, now's your chance to strike back at those who are pissing you off. Get on your chosen social media sites and make a declaration. You could say, for instance, 

"I've decided to stop and think. While I stop and think I will withdraw from the commercial marketplace. I will take my house off the grid and make no purchases to benefit a corporation that STOLE MY GOVERNMENT!"  

Why tilt at windmills? Because if about 75 million people take the same action, it will be noticed. Social media impacts the mainstream and more people may follow suit. Organize silent sit-ins; wear (home made) T-shirts marked "Stop and Think". It doesn't even matter why you're pissed off. If enough people deprive corporate America, however you can, whenever you choose, those little pennies from heaven will a) stay in your pocket and b) not go into THEIRS. Reduce your gasoline usage ruthlessly. If you can, ride your bike. Delayed sales = delayed profits. Purchase only from local business that sell local products. And make sure everybody you can reach knows that you're making a statement.

Go ahead and laugh at silly old Nanabanana. You probably already do all those things anyway, right? And it's all been done before, right? It's the DECLARATION that counts. 

Sociological events are crack for pollsters. While exploring all the opposing reasons that people stop and think for, they'll be running in circles. It will inspire a little "uh-oh" if nothing else. Maybe some BIG "uh-ohs", especially if the "cause" goes international. If you decide to stop and think, somebody might ask you why, and how to get your vote. That's when you get to tell them. Nicely, politely, like normal people, of course. Make them squirm.

I have to go now. I'm going to paint my Stop and Think T-shirt, and then I'll just stop and think. If enough of us stop and think it will be, if nothing else, a WONDERFUL stunt. This is one of those rare times that I'm actually serious. It's not just the medications. Give Stop and Think a little thought. Let the good times roll.

 

 

Cliven Bundy and Nanabanana!

I'm baaaack! Bet you all thought I'd died and gone to heaven, or someplace. Well, I DID go someplace! Those smarty pants state social agency folks decided to do a pilot program. Me and a special selection of us nut bags were chosen to participate! I'm not sure why I got picked. Maybe because I haven't been sent to the mop closet for a long time. But we haven't had a regular shrink for a long time and the part time shrinks don't really watch what we're up to. Phyllis and Rita got picked and I think a few of the guys too, but since we didn't all go to the same place I don't know where they were sent. Hope it wasn't Afghanistan. 

So off we went to the pilot program. I was disappointed when they said we weren't going to be pilots. We went to a 'half way house'. They let us go all the way in though. What a relief! I was trying to figure out how to go half way in! There were two nice normal ladies to watch four of us crazies. There was Rita, Phyllis, me and another lady who was catatonic. Sometimes we'd poke her in the face, but she never complained. We were there all the long, cold winter and it got pretty boring. We had some TV and movies but no internet or even newspapers. The nice normal ladies had us painting pictures, working puzzles and knitting, stuff like that. I knitted a straight jacket. Rita and Phyllis loved it, but the nice normal ladies said it was inappropriate. Guess they really didn't know who they were dealing with!

The good things: We got to wear real clothes instead of PJs. We went on field trips to the grocery store, the library and the natural history museum! Nobody misbehaved because we had these bulky anklets on so we couldn't run too far. We did some supervised cooking. No knives, of course. And no food throwing allowed, darn it. We had a little fenced yard too. The nice normal ladies said we could have a garden in the spring. But the winter was soooooo long! You can only build so many snowmen before you start wondering how long it takes to die from hypothermia. Last week I finally felt so cooped up that I had to do something. So I hooked up a lamp cord to a door knob. All of a sudden the nice normal ladies got REAL CRANKY. Back I went to the maximum security psychiatric facility and I'm not sorry. I missed everybody and our fun times together.  We were so happy to see each other that we all twirled around and screamed! Then we celebrated at dinner time with a good old fashioned food fight. It was Crazy Chilli Thursday so all the beans and rice made for a real splatter fiesta!

I've been busy catching up with my Nanabanana mail and all the news I missed. And WOW! I missed a LOT! Nobody's talking about homeless people or wars right now because that's boring compared to that cowboy Cliven Bundy. Now there's a real man who wears a real hat! He's just like John Wayne, only he's not dead. The Republicans just love him and the Democrats hate him so he's got to be one tough hombre! Of course, once he gave his views about "the Negro" some of the Republicans started acting like Democrats. There's a go figure! But really, you gotta love a guy with a white hat who loves cows. Some guys even have cows for girlfriends, they're so friendly. 

Now, I'm not sure why people are so fussy about where those cows go. You can herd them here and you can drive them there, but sooner or later they'll go wherever they damn well please. And they outweigh people, so you're going to get really tired trying to push them around. So the Feds want the cows on one side of a line in the dirt and Bundy want's them on the other side. There's a lot of folks who showed up for Bundy's cow transfer rodeo, but they didn't seem to have much fun. I'm betting if this keeps up those cows are going to just sit right down in the dirt and say, "Fuck off you cow crazy assholes!" That's what I'd do if I was a cow! Matter of fact, I'll probably do it anyway!

Enough of that. Here's my latest selection for Dear Nanabanana!
________________________________________

Dayr Nanabanana,

I got me a ranch down South hare, but I'm not sayin' whar 'cuz ain't nobudy's biznus. Thar's a passul o' cow hatin' idjuts cum hare wut wanna tay'ul me wut ta do wid my caddul an' thay ain't even russlars! Thay'r sayin' thay'yall cum frum thu Fedrul Gubmant bud I no id's a big fay'at chicken she'yat LIE! No how I no? Thar AIN'T NOTHIN' CALLED FEDRUL GUBMANT! I hare thar's a bunch o' butt fokkers up squattin' on thu lay'nd o' Northren Aggresshun. Thay CALLS thay'r selfs Fedrul Gubmant, but I ain't by'an 'cuz I ain't nevar seen wun 'roun hare b'for. I stic ride down hare on my ranch e'n tha good ol' Cunfe'drat Terrytory ware folks ain't crazy. 

Now, thar's sum folks tol' me thar's cow hatin' idjuts sum plaze thay'r callin' DC. Whut e'n dang HAIL iz DC?! Folks sez thay'ats ware idjuts git big muny so thay'yall siddown an' shut tha hail UP. So y thu hail e'n Gods guud NAME shud I lissen ta thay'm idjuts? I no wun thang. I got me a Consteetooshun. It's MINE an' ain't no idjut gonna git it 'way frum me! It gibs me freedum ta do wad I wanna do! Me an' thu gang run'm off'en thu lay'nd wun'st awlreddy. Sho'd wut cums frum messin' wid a caddul man e'n Nev 'roun hare! I figger iffen I set tite an' my posse an' me kayps thu guns reddy we ken fill'em up wid LED iffn' thay shos thay'r butt fokken' haids roun' hare agin! Mebby I shud jus' say'nd my cows a'stampin all ova thay'r idjut haids! I bet my why'at hat thay'r a bunch o' Negros ennyhoo 'cuz ya no 'bout THAY'M.

Ya got sumpin' ta say 'bout thay'at?

Reel 'Mericayn Ranch'ayr.
______________________________ 

Dear Reel,

I'm so sorry you're being pestered. It's a dirty shame when you can't even keep a few happy cows without somebody disturbing your peace and threatening your freedom. It's just plain RUDE! However, as much as you love your cows it seems to me that shooting those idiots isn't a good idea. It could get you in a bit of trouble. Shooting at idiots is frowned upon. I learned that the hard way! Getting your cows to stamp on them might get your cows in trouble too. You wouldn't want THAT! 
No, I think the best solution is to bite the bullet and head for Mexico. I know it's a big pain in the butt, BUT there's a few good things about that idea. First, you could sell some cows, IF you want to, at a big profit! There aren't any nice American cows in Mexico so I bet Mexicans would be thrilled to get some! AND, you don't have to worry about crossing the border. Nobody pays any attention to THAT little line in the dirt. Take your Consteetooshun with you, of course. Mexico doesn't have one and I'm sure they'd like to see yours.

Best wishes to you and your cows,

Nanabanana 

 




                     

The Cruz Effect PLUS Nanabanana!

  Well here I am! Finally. Things have been especially crazy around here. That's why I haven't been online for so long. You know that government shut down thingy? Well, we sure felt the effects of that here at the maximum security psychiatric facility! We got to see some of the Ted Cruz show. Isn't he a smarty though? He did a nice job reading Green Eggs and Ham. Everybody loved that! But then things went kinda kerflooey. Guess Governor Snyder decided the government shutdown that Ted Cruz got rolling was a good reason to shutdown things around here. Security was so loosey goosey that we had a GREAT Halloween, full of tricks, like slipping out on the lawn to yell "Trick or treat!" at the trees. A bunch of the guys found a mud hole to roll around in so they said they were Navy Seals Commandos in training. (Monty said he was Biggie Big's love child.) But Thanksgiving and Christmas kinda disappeared. It's hard to blame Ted though. He's just doing his part to keep America great. God bless him!

  First, the chef population thinned out. Then it thinned out some more. Then we started getting extra shut up pills because the left over chefs were all worn out. I heard one of them say he was going to get a border patrol job so he could shoot people. Dr. Goanz got worn out too. She started giggling and singing a lot, softly, usually the Barney theme song. You know, 'I love you, you love me...' That got pretty annoying and no matter how much we screamed she wouldn't stop. So now she's on the second floor taking a rest. That left just the 3 chefs on our floor, but they were gone a lot so I think they were working on another floor too. Or down at the loading dock, getting drunk. (Wouldn't blame them.) We all got sent to our rooms for a week or so because Duds started a rumor that it was the zombie apocalypse and showed everybody what a zombie is. But Phyllis thought he was being Klatoo from 'The Day the Earth Stood Still'. (The original, not that other one.) So she yelled "Klatoo! Baradda! Nicto!" Duds kinda liked that and decided being Klatoo was better than being a zombie, so he just kept being Klatoo. That started up the Brain Chips rumor again. *sigh*

  By and large, nobody really minded the lack of chefs or all the macaroni and cheese we were getting so often. It sticks to the walls real good! But it got kinda boring when the cable was cut off and all we could watch on TV was PBS and the Word channel. Not everybody is into religion, but the Peter Popoff show was pretty popular. Who can resist the suspense of waiting for the preaching to stop when the preacher's peter pops off? Everybody cheered whether it popped off or not. Of course, the internet was shut down. The last working nurse, who was pretty nervous since Dr. Goanz went all dippy, stayed locked in the nurses station. She cried a lot.

  After Senator Cruz let the government open up again, things started returning to normal craziness. Guess it'll still take a while to find a new psychiatrist. Somebody said they're all in Washington D.C. pushing antidepressants on the Democrats. Still took a few weeks to get online because that was the last thing we got back. I hurried to pick a new letter for my Nanabanana forum, and here it is!

Dear Nanabanana-

Sure hope you got a good idea for me! See, I got a 20 acre farm here in Essex County, New Jersey. I don't do much farming anymore. I just sell stuff from my Ebay store and work 32 hours a week down at the pesticide plant. 

Well, here's the problem. In the last few years there's been a lot of homeless animals showing up here. Not a lot, at first. So I found homes for some and just kept the rest fed. But the other day I took a head count. I've got 13 dogs, 34 cats (I think), 6 chickens, 2 goats and a donkey. The chickens, goats and donkey pretty much feed themselves, but I'm getting cash strapped and, well, there used to be a lot more chickens. 

I don't like to place blame on other folks for my problems, but there's a pretty big tent city near by and I have to wonder if all these animals wandered over from there. I mean, when you have to live in a tent it stands to reason that your pets aren't going to be a big priority. I can't just drop them back at the tent city and I've called animal shelters. They have too many animals to take mine. So now what do I do?

Signed,
Critter Cluttered

________________________________________

Dear Critter,

Well heck! This is a job for your Governor! You know, Chris Christie? He makes good money and he's got that big old governor's mansion with lots of room for your critters! The place has a nice big fence too, so they won't be coming back to your place. Bet he'll just love looking out his window to see those dogs romping, cats climbing up trees and the goats and donkey trimming his lawn! You might want to keep the chickens though. They might look pretty tasty to him, and he looks like a guy with a big appetite! Just rent a big U-Haul truck, pack them all in there and make a delivery! 
OH! I just got an inspiration! Maybe all those folks at the tent city would like to live on the Governor's lawn too! Get them all on buses and call the news people so they can be there to catch the look on the Governor's face when he sees what you've brought him! He could use a nice, warmhearted story to distract people from that bridge blocking scandal he's been caught up in. This should just about do it!  I'll be watching the news with anticipation! 

Your friend,
Nanabanana
________________________________________

Christie's Latest Problem?

Bert Bender, for The Star-Ledger
01/09/14

Word from an inside source reports that a group of nearly 150 homeless people accompanied by numerous animals made it through the gates of the New Jersey Governor's Mansion late last night. According to our source, Governor Chris Christie took fast action to have the ragged group of people dispersed. The animals, however, have apparently proven harder to remove. While the dogs were tame enough to capture, the cats were not, and remain in hiding on the mansion grounds. Also at large are two goats and an ill tempered donkey.

 

Dear Nanabanana~Sex, Lies and Bad Ideas!

Things aren't going too well for our new shrink Dr. Goanz. She tried to make a few changes around here and met with, shall we say, a little resistance. She decided that all our activities should be scheduled and timed in compliance with her new Patient Programs. Maybe she thought it would benefit our mental health. So we super glued the lock to her office while she was in there watching Honey Boo Boo on her lap top. The chefs seemed to think it was pretty funny and found other things to do for a few hours while she pounded on the door. It's been pretty obvious that they don't like marching us through Craft Hour, Music Hour, Yoga Hour and etc. When she got out she tried to 'sanction' us by denying us access to TV and the web. That didn't work out either, because Bennie, (as Houdini, of course) made her car disappear from the parking lot. She still hasn't found it and it's been over a week now. Yesterday she tried to convince Monty that his baboon is imaginary, which is why he bit her. This morning she walked in on Phyllis and Roy while they were doing the wild thing in the craft room and they went all Jackson Pollock on her. She should sell that outfit at auction. It might be worth something.

That's all the news here and now. We're planning our annual Labor Day festivities. The ladies will all go into spontaneous labor while the guys groan with sympathetic labor pains. We have rubber baby dolls, ketchup and everything! Feeney wants to be the obstetrician, but everybody knows he just wants to get his hands between the ladies' thighs. That's OK. It's all for fun anyway.

Now, here's the latest Dear Nanabanana!
 ______________________________________________

Dear Nanabanana,

I don't know where to start, except maybe at the finish. It's all finished. My wife divorced me BEHIND MY BACK! Have you ever heard of THAT? She had the summons mailed and pulled it out of the mailbox before I could read it. Then she went to court and because I wasn't there she won by default! She told me she was going to go help her sick mother for a month. Then I got a subpoena for unpaid spousal support, which is when I found out I was divorced!
As you can imagine, I'm crushed. I thought we had a good marriage. I dug through her emails and found out she's got a lover named Raul. They're down in Belize. My brother is a lawyer and he says I can get the ruling thrown out. I've been staying at his place to prepare for court and keep from drinking myself to death. See, I can reverse the original ruling and get out of spousal support, but we'll still be divorced and she's STILL going to get half of everything!
I can't get my mind off this whole mess. I'm haunted, horrified and flippin' PISSED!
What can I do? I want revenge but the jointly owned properties are already on record so I can't just take off with the liquid assets. Why should that scheming SLUT get a G-damed DIME? Got any ideas? How do I show her how I feel without ripping her C-sucking head off?

Signed,
Royally Screwed
 _____________________________________________

Dear Royally,

Wow. I mean, WOW. This a totally new one for me! I never knew it was even possible to have a secret divorce or I would have done it to a few of my own husbands! Now, I've heard of people selling cars for a dollar to low ball a cash settlement, but I don't know how you can keep your sleazy spouse from collecting. And who gets the house? You'll have to sell it or one of you gets half the value and the other lives in it. I smell a battle of the legal beagles in the offing!
Since she's out of town you could do a few token gestures like burning her clothes or engaging in a bit of creative graffiti. Going a little nuts is almost traditional during the divorce process. I got to one of my husbands by slipping a couple of Quaaludes into his Mad Dog 20 20. Then I buried him in the back yard up to his neck. I can't really recommend that, though. By morning the raccoons had chewed off his ears and I had to split for another state.
You have all my sympathy and I hope you find a way to express your feelings. The kind of betrayal you've suffered demands action! Be sure to vent your emotions in a way that is unmistakable. She should be punished in SOME sort of way! Don't let her get away with it!

Your friend,
Nanabanana
______________________________________________

Yup. He got creative.


Divorced Man Enacts Revenge
August 29, 2013
Writer Dean Withers

In a bizarre act of revenge Mr. Hatch Fonderlass dropped a large tree on his own house to prevent his wife from living there after their divorce. "He was very methodical about it", stated Officer M. Glint. "He brought in the bulldozer to tear up the driveway, but we got there first." Neighbors alerted police to Mr. Fonderlass's activities when they heard the crash. "My Lord!" exclaimed Mrs. Fiona Pentwhistle, "I thought it was the Communists!" Police had Mr. Fonderlass under arrest for creating a public hazard when a voice was heard coming from the second story. A man was screaming incoherently. 

Fire and emergency workers pulled a bloodied man through the broken roof. He was revealed to be Mr. Raul Spinoza and workers discovered Mrs. Arlene Fonderlass pinned beneath the felled tree. She was pronounced dead at the scene. As police put Mr. Fonderlass in the squad car, he was heard laughing and shouting, "You should have stayed in Belize, you F'ing C**T! 

Mr. Fonderlass has been charged with first degree murder. 

   Photographed in the act by a neighbor, Mr. Fonderlass fells the tree before police arrive.

  

If Weiner Would Talk!

OK. I have a good excuse for being AWOL from the blogging empire this time. Dr. Idiot died! The chefs won't tell us how, but we think maybe he fell down the elevator shaft when Duds was playing with the buttons. So the elevator has a new lock on it, but Bennie's already figured it out. (Nobody's planning to visit the basement though. We think that's where they buried him.) The doctor's sad end was a great excuse to scream, giggle and generally act even crazier than usual, but we were all restricted to our rooms and the dining hall and they changed the computer sign-on password . (I felt pretty dumb when I figured out it was 'doctordeath'.) We held a charming New Orleans style funeral, crying, slowly marching down the halls and playing St. James Infirmary Blues on imaginary instruments. Then we all danced and played When the Saints Come Marching In on imaginary instruments. We waved paper napkins to keep the flies off the imaginary coffin.

It's not that we aren't sad to lose Dr. Idiot, after all, he was pretty nice as shrinks go. Now we have a lady shrink who looks a lot like Kathy Bates when she was in Misery, only scarier. (Rumor has it she wears a Nazi uniform when she's alone in her office.) Her name is Dr. Goanz, which makes for a few good jokes. "Where's she Goanz" or "She's Goanz crazy too". But we giggle quietly because she doesn't smile very much. So things have been pretty quiet. We've been getting a lot of comfort food, like mashed potatoes and jello. It's always comforting to fling that stuff around, PLUS somebody decided it would be a good idea to bring in visiting pets to make us feel better. The dogs were a little scared of us, but the cats didn't give a crap who was petting them. The only problem was when Rita started stuffing bunnies down her pants, although the bunnies didn't seem to mind. Bet the visiting pets won't be visiting again. Oh, and Feeney got sent to the mop closet because he was WAY too pissed off when he found out he wouldn't inherit Dr. Idiot's inflatable sex doll.  

So today I finally hit the web and got caught up on the news. I see Dr. Sanjay Gupta has decided that marijuana is pretty much a good thing, and he did a whole show about it. I always figured he was a pot head anyway, so, no big surprise. Then there's the story about Dr. Farid Fata, who made a ton of money treating people for diseases they didn't even have. Now he's in jail instead of that great big mansion of his. It's kind of ironic, because if he'd just put his patients on weed, he'd still be stinking rich and nobody would be mad at him. Medicinal weed is legal in Michigan and he could have gone on TV with Dr. Gupta.   

Of course, I was most intrigued by the latest news about Anthony Weiner. Here he is, running for mayor of New York, and it turns out he's been twittering around again. This raises more than a few questions. Like, why the name 'Carlos Danger'? Anybody who takes one look at him is going to figure out he's not Hispanic. (Not that I'm disrespecting Hispanic penises.) Second, why doesn't he just tweet his wife? That could be kind of kinky, especially if he isn't really sure it's her. (There's a wealth of porno she could use to fake him out.) But most importantly, does this latest excursion to the twittering nest of chicks with too much time on their tails hurt or benefit his run for mayor?

Ah, there's the rub, as Shakespeare would say. A lot of other people are saying that too. Last time, he was all contrite, promised not to do it anymore and fluttered away for a whole year. Now, journalists are asking, "are you done now?" and "was it good for you?" But here's the most interesting aspect of the story. Anthony is tired of talking about it. Now, we have to believe he's not actually bored with tweeting his wiener. All evidence indicates he isn't. So why is he deflecting questions about his flighty wiener?

Think! There's a dynamic at work here and it isn't that hard to figure out. We're talking about New York City, folks! Before Disney invaded Times Square, there were more perverts in plain view than are now winging their way through the Twitosphere. Anthony's rookery of fellow twits are chirping with delight and if they vote, he's going to be in the Mayor's office faster than he can clench his jaw and clutch his throbbing manhood. Ignore the polls! That 80% disapproval rating only reflects how many people won't admit they do the same thing! His coy refusal to discuss his photogenic wiener will only serve to keep him in the news as everyone waits, frantic for the next Weiner Twitterfest. It's the ultimate news bait! So Anthony rolls his eyes and says it's old news, not worth talking about, while the amorous news hounds feel their ratings shrink in frustration.

But no doubt, just before the campaign comes to a frothy climax, Anthony's wiener will once again, like the Phoenix, raise it's head in triumph. Because, let's face it, the world can never get enough wiener.
  

Rick Perry Knows the Why and How!

  Hi 'ya all!  Did the ol' in and out the mop closet again!  I admit, it really was my fault this time.  Angus and I wanted to get out for some fresh air and we went a bit far.  All the way to Bob Evans, in fact.  Why is that such a big deal anyway?  We just wanted some biscuits and gravy and you can't get it any better than at Bob Evans.  So we picked the lock on the elevator, slipped out the service bay and climbed the fence.

  Once we got to Bob Evans and put in our orders we figured we were doing OK.  The waitress was a bit snotty though.  You'd think she'd have learned to be polite by the time she hit her seventies!  Other than that, we were having a great time.  Angus can stick a spoon on his nose and it doesn't fall off!  I tried and it fell down the front of my jammies, which was pretty funny.  While we were giggling and playing Napkin Parachute the nice old couple sitting next to us started up a conversation.  They wanted to know how we felt about the abortion bill in Texas.  We told them we really didn't give a crap, but I don't think they heard us.  Really now, why should a couple of nuts in Michigan give a crap about anything down in Texas?  Except maybe the biscuits and gravy?

  So the old couple kept nattering about some Texas bill that was going to make women have babies whether they wanted to or not.  I got pretty confused.  I mean, how do you make a woman have a baby?  Isn't that kind of impossible?  Then they gave me the name of a website where I could read all about the Holy Mission to make women have babies.  That's when Dr. Idiot and the chefs showed up with the syringes.  Guess that rude waitress dropped a dime on us.  Oh well.  We were going to dine and dash anyway.  When I got out of the mop closet I drank about a gallon of coffee.  Then I told Dr. Idiot that I'd tell everybody about his inflatable sex doll if he didn't let me use the computer.  So here I am.  I looked up that website and sure enough, there was a dandy article on the aforementioned subject.  Here it is.

 Texas Gov. Rick Perry Has All the Answers
           

 Texas Gov. Rick Perry shows the gals how ta start the baby makin' process. Too bad none of the guys would help him show how ta finish it!


Sometime in June, 2014 
by Mary T. Virginia @moonbattery.com

  So we got hold of Gov. Rick Perry an' he had lots ta say! Like how those Godless feminist sluts in his beautiful state of Texas were tryin' ta tell him what ta do! That's pure stupid! Gov. Perry is a lot smarter than they are an' he's runnin' the state so they should just shut up! So we said, whadda ya got ta say, Gov.?

Me: So, whadda ya got ta say, Gov.?

Him: I got alot ta say about that stupid slut Wendy what's her MAIDEN name with the kid born oudda wedlock! Bitch took up a buncha time runnin' her mouth right there in the Texas buildin' where they do laws when I TOLD 'em ta pass that bill thing! An' she brought a buncha SLUTS with her!

Me: That's pretty darn stupid!

Him: Yup. But I'll make 'em go home an' we'll be stoppin' those baby killin' whore clinics! You'll see! I'm gonna make 'em have those babies!

Me: Darn tootin'! How ya gonna do that?

Him: Don't matter. We're runnin' shorta soldiers ta fight for the Lord an' the United States! How we gonna keep spreadin' democracy? We gotta grow us some new soldiers! How we gonna do that without fresh babies? How we gonna send those soldiers ta die who the heck knows where without babies! So those stupid sluts gotta start spittin' out some babies an' I mean NOW! If they need LESSONS I'm the guy ta show 'em HOW! 

(Look at that photo up there! He ain't kiddin'!)

Me: Gee you're smart Gov.!

Him: That's how come I took over Texas. Next I figger I'll take over the White House. Then we can send our soldiers ta North Korea an' Iran. Ya gotta watch it with those Godless places 'cuz they know all about baby makin'! I'll keep those stupid sluts doin' their duty. I'll hook 'em up with our heros in uniform. We're sure ta get good soldiers out of 'em then! Ya know what they say, breedin' is everything! Just like with cattle.   

   
     

Dear Nanabanana: Unalienable Rights!

Hi everybody! I know I've been gone awhile because Roy said I missed out on two Crazy Chili Thursdays. That's too bad, because I like to put a soft taco in my mouth and pretend I'm Donald Duck. The good thing is, I've been enjoying a long episode of delusional fantasy that will keep me smiling for at least a month. First, I went to London to visit the Queen. I didn't get to talk to her though. She was busy with a war crimes trial against G. W. Bush and Dick Cheney. They were crying and squirming around in a vat of Jello. That makes sense at least. I love Jello. I thought Parliament would have been trying the defendants, but the Queen was very efficient about the whole thing. She shouted, "Off with their heads!" (as I expected) then William and Kate came at them with machetes and made quick work of the sentence. The British are so much more sensible about these things, even if it makes a big mess in the throne room.

Next, I found myself in Congress during a paint ball game. Boehner was standing on his desk with his pants down. He spread his cheeks and said, "Try and hit this you Communists!" They did. In fact, so many hit the bull's eye that paint was shooting out his nose. Nancy Pelosi had the best aim, even though she's for gun control. Paul Ryan was running around screaming, "Filibuster! Filibuster!" but it didn't do any good. Harry Reid hit him with yellow paint that must have had nails in it. Ryan was pinned to the wall. There were some Democrats who got nailed too, like Anthony Wiener. He doesn't even work there anymore but he uses the showers. He was hit so hard he wound up in the balcony. The crowd cheered! Then they ate him. What else could he expect with a name like Wiener?

It got too hard to tell who was winning so I went outside. There were lots of people building guillotines and yelling, but I don't think they were French. They had Rush Limbaugh trussed up like a capon and he didn't stop screaming until they chopped his head off. Can't remember much else, except for the sailboat race in that pond in front of the Washington Monument. Vladimir Putin won, probably because he wasn't wearing a shirt. The President pursed his lips so I knew he was really mad! 

Delusional fun! Now, here's the latest issue of Dear Nanabanana.

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Dear Nanabanana;

I'm pretty darn tired of paying for insurance and never getting anything. I never have a car wreck, so no new car. I never get sick, so I'm paying on health insurance for nothing. I'll never see any cash from my life insurance and that REALLY ticks me off. My wife spends enough of my money already. I did file a claim on the house once. My neighbor hates my guts so he busted out all the 1st floor windows. I got new windows. Big deal.

Well, the other day I found paper work on a policy I forgot all about. It's a death and dismemberment policy and it's pretty neat. You get money for parts of you that get chopped off. The bigger the part, the bigger the payoff. A little cash for fingers and toes, more for hands, more for arms, etc. Heck, my right foot has a big bunion so I could live without that. I could ice it up and take it off with a chop saw. It's pretty tempting.
Now, the really interesting thing is, I can't find any reference to deliberate loss of body parts in the policy. Not even in the fine print. Maybe that's in recognition of my unalienable right to amputate something if I want.

The Declaration of Independence says I have the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. I figure that about covers it, even if the insurance company tries to fight me. What do you think?

Thanks,
Real American

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Dear Real,

You're absolutely right about the Declaration. We have those rights as Americans and nobody can take them away! Heaven help any insurance company that tries taking away your right to chop off a body part! No doubt there's millions of lawyers who'd drool at the chance to represent you in a lawsuit! You might, however, want to have the chopping done by a professional chopper. Some pain killer would be good and you could donate your body part to some poor soul who's missing one. Maybe one of our heroes who had something blown off in Afghanistan. Wouldn't that be patriotic! Someone who got hit at the Boston Marathon would probably be thrilled to get a replacement part. It's all up to you. Sure hope you'll get back to me. I'll be wondering how it all turns out.

Your friend,
Nanabanana

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Here's how it turned out...

Rights and Claims  

June 13, 2013
Bob Hoggett, for the Freedom Chime

Recently, an event in Burgertown came to light, raising questions about our rights as Americans. A dismemberment claim was filed with the Dipsom Insurance Company for the loss of a policy holder's leg. Interestingly, Mr. Theodore Hosenfrost lost his leg because he removed it himself. When Dipsom denied the claim, the ACLU was called in to protect the man's right to amputate his own leg. Lawyers of the opposing parties expect a protracted battle.

"It's a question of rights afforded to all Americans," said ACLU attorney Walter Carp. "Dipsom will have to come up with some legitimate argument that over arches the Declaration of Independence. So far, they've shown nothing in their policy that has that power." Representatives for Dipsom have declined to comment. 

When reached for comment, Mrs. Bee Hosenfrost had much to say, most of which was unprintable. "I can't tell you how mad I am!" said Mrs. Hosenfrost. "Look a the mess we're in now, not to mention the mess he left in the garage!"

Mr. Hosenfrost was found in his garage by his son Harold Hosenfrost. The senior Hosenfrost was lying in a pool of blood, a Saws All in one hand and a cell phone in the other. The cell phone's battery had no charge. Mr. Hosenfrost had no pulse.