Tweets from Cassandra Widdershin's Blood Lion
Before The Trump Abomination
Mar 29, 2021
Obamination: The Jig Is Up
Originally published by drfaustroll under Invective, Literary Terrorism, Pataphysics, Poopadoodle, Sedition February 21, 2009
Our premise: Pataphysics, the science of imaginary solutions, was invented by Alfred Molina Jarry in the late 1800s to explain why the world was increasingly populated by miserable phucks and how to avoid phalling under their dreadphull inphluence. Jarry believed that water was a toxic substance that should be used only to wash clothes, torture terrorists, and flush one’s feces to a nearby school cafeteria.
Phynancially speaking, pataphysicians have never broken the gauze ceiling to earn wages on par with, say, a legless scrub nurse, but they still contribute much to modern civilization by providing alternative remedies for the imaginary ailments that so many ordinary idiots in the NOMPH™ enthusiastically accept diagnoses for.
Typical NOMPH patient: “I said, doctor, doctor, Mr. MD, doctor, can you tell me what is ailing me?”
Traditional HMO family practice physician: “It sounds like RLS to me, or possibly incurable IBS with early stage CFS, but we’ll need to run more tests to be certain. In the meantime, I want to start you on Xanax and Oxycontin. If it works for Rush Limbaugh, it should work for you.”
Typical NOMPH patient: “I’m so glad you listen to Rush Limbaugh too.”
I often wonder what a sequitur is like. I really want to see one and experience the supreme joy of the logic such an object would bring to me. I assume from my studies that there must be such a thing. Some people are traught. Some people are born with silver toothpicks in their mouths. Some are born to Grapenuts. Others have Grapenuts thrust upon them.
And so it is that today we must call a spade a spade and take alms against a semeny trouble and thus opposable thumbs must mend them, to paraphrase something I was thinking about earlier this evening before suffering an Oldtimer’s moment while increasing the opium drip.
In a time long, long ago, in a NOMPH far, far away, you could actually buy collections of what is today considered to be politically incorrect humor. The underlying assumption that some humor can be deemed politically incorrect presupposes that political correctness is not oxymoronic. The only way that politically correct humor could be considered other than oxymoronic is if the oxen objected, and as Thomas Hardy so aptly pointed out in his paean to stupid, blind, believing oxen and their groupies, that’s not likely to happen.
So what is this post about? you might ask, as if I was paying attention, and I might respond by pharting, which often evokes in my readers such sweet sorrow, but the truth is obvious: the jig is up in the White House and he is not going to leave until you learn how to hope you can live on spare change, honkies.
Coming soon: How many times daily does Obama masturbate in the Oval Office while watching Monica Gets Her Presidential Kneepads on his Blackberry?