Those Who Do Not Learn From History Are Doomed To A Three-Peat
A Menagé A Trois Is One Of History's Hidden Pleasures
I’m not sure, but this piece might have been written before Homeland Sekurity Titsa Krusty Gnome (R-Word, SD) was even born. It predates the August 8th PDB Fubar Bush neglected to read, thereby contributing to the stunning collapse of America’s Towers of Babel.
Christopher “Spuds” McKenzie, 1984-1992, shown here getting a menagé a massage, was trampled by Seattle police after arising from the dead seven years after he was killed by an errant deep ball intended for Sterling Sharpe. He has gone where Ambrose Bierce's indignation high on Lactaid had gone before.
WTO Riots Obscure Grave Desecration Hero's Tomb Defiled
SEATTLE, WA (USNS) — "Ain't this the season of love and joy and forgiveness. Well, ain't it?" As the words spill from the lips of Louie the Lizard, they sound more like a challenge than a question. Never before in the history of this sodden city have passions burned more brightly than when people start discussing the short and tragic life of Christopher “Spuds” McKenzie who was summarily executed here 7 years year ago on Christmas Day.
"Now, now, Louie," Frank says, trying to console his distraught Budweiser spokesiguana brother while Gidget, the Taco Bell chihuahua looks on sadly and Joe Camel weeps inconsolably.
For the hundreds of spokesanimals who promote the legal drugs and unhealthy habits that prop up much of America's supply side plantation economy, the desecration of Spuds McKenzie's gravesite by jackbooted Seattle storm troopers was but the latest indignity our branded non-human creatures have to endure.
"He was the original party dog when partying really meant something. So maybe sometimes he went too far, like that time he humped Pope George Ringo’s leg on Good Friday, but for shtupping a goddamn NFL politician’s pussy they killed him just before the two-minute warning? Where's the justice in that?" a Anheuser-Busch Clydesdale slobbered.
At this point, the transmission went dead...
"If you ask me, all those mealy-mouthed, four-legged celebrities are just a bunch of crybaby flea taxis. I had my own TV show for years. Never received a dime of compensation after the show went into syndication. And not once did anyone ever offer me a lucrative product endorsement of any kind. Not until I died, anyway. That's when they ground me up, bone and all, and turned me into Purina Dog Chow. Never got any residuals for that, either. Still, it was a helluva better way to go than to get stuffed and put on public display like poor Trigger. Wilbur may have been a dork, but Roy was a goddamn psycho. Anyway, you don't see me crying over spilled horse apples."
--Mister Ed, "Just Talking Horse Sense At The Snodgrass Farm"
Lol. Props for Mr. Ed (a horse is a horse, of course, of course) and Bojack Horseman.