This has been a tough week for Donkeytale and I don't mind admitting it to you.
I have a highly responsible job running a company that hits peak season during the fourth quarter. It all comes crashing down at once: dismal end of year forecasts, low first quarter of next year sales, dwindling productivity as employees turn holiday festive and stop working, my investors' barely concealed threats about how the 4th quarter results sure as hell better make up for the lackluster results during the preceding three quarters, or else. Its tough being a capitalist pig, believe me. And nobody wants to hear you complain about it, either, right? Right.
And this year I have an extra burden to bear: my renewed sense of political commitment which I thought I had conveniently lost in a cloud of cynicism 20 years ago has somehow been rekindled, thanks to some punk kid from Berkeley and about a quadrillion of his invisible punk colleagues who participate in something that is powered by something called Scoop.
I thought I could quit you guys after we lost the election together, I really did. I am too old for this bullshit. Its college kid stuff, after all, sophomoric if not downright freshmanic.
But here I am, all the same, still starring in my own remake of 'Grandpa was a Freshman.' I guess like most leftwingnuts, being on the outside looking in is the only way to get galvanized. I guess I am still fatally attracted to the underdog, the lost cause. Ask my bookie...that rich, republican rat bastard.
Tonight is Saturday. I'm sitting at the keyboard again when I should be walking the dog, cleaning the house, washing the dishes, kissing my wife, anything but obsessing once more about VOTE ONLY BY MAIL FOR ALL FUTURE FEDERAL ELECTIONS. And its not like I'm getting a popular response. More like a slap in the face with a cold wet wash cloth, by a gang of about 4.
At the very least, I should be coming up with my annual alibi for my conservative employees and my ultraconservative investors.
"Uh, sorry about the no 'Christmas/Kwanzaa/Chanukkah/other' bonuses and dividend checks this year. You see, I have been too busy promoting my doomed-to-fail left wing causes since the election. But dont worry, once me and the kossacks fix the economy everything should turn around...in about 4 years....say, anybody want to join me in a march on Congress next Presidents Day to demand VOTE ONLY BY MAIL FOR ALL FUTURE FEDERAL ELECTIONS? I'll give you all a comp day if you join me."
And what do I tell my poor, long suffering wife, she of the John Lennonesque primal screaming, as she watches her fading dreams of financial security go up in a pall of cybersmoke?
"Its Bush's fault, not mine, honey. Hey! At least I'm not cruising the porn sites anymore....:)"
Oh, well, its Saturday, and I'm wanting to escape. Scrolling down, reading the noms de plume, laughing, scowling, trying to tamp down all the the usual feelings of scorn, ridicule and vain superiority...then finally... another epiphany! This stuff is really provocative. Got me riffin' like Jimi on his final cheap wine and seconal high.
I'm thinkin', I'm thinkin'!! I'm writin', I'm writin!! I am almost young again...
Who are all these people? What do they look like, sound like? I start to fantasize...I hear a song from the past....
"Here's a little game we can all join in with, its very simple and I think its true."
{BONUS POINTS if you can name the singer who also wrote that song (not just the band). 10 points if you are under 50, 20 points if you are under 40, and disqualified if you are under 30 (you should be getting ready to go out--its Saturday night for chrissake)}.
This game is imagining who I think you are behind the cyber curtain. You can join in. No fair if you really know the kossack that you describe. Has to be complete fantasy, based on a close reading of diaries, comments and name, only. This should be good, clean, malevolent fun, just like 'Christmas/kwanzaa/Chanukkah/other' with the family back home in Palookaville.
If I offend anyone please fell free to counterattack in the thread below. And dont forget to take the poll. Donkeytale can take the hard truth, as well as dish it out.
NOWWWWW... lets play fantasy weekend:
BillfromPortlandMe = Norman Mailer crossed with Truman Capote (I'll take Capote and the points)
Tocquedeville = Mink DeVille crossed w Milton Friedman crossed w Bob Marley
Meteor Blades = Cheech Marin crossed w "The Steamer" and Melvin Durslag (old LA H-E man should take that comparison as high compliment)
pastordan = St. Peter crossed w Ralph Waldo Emerson crossed with Julie on the Love Boat.
Blksista = Angela davis crossed w Dionne Warwick(do you know the way to San Jose State?)
Armando = Milan Kundera crossed w Pancho Villa crossed with the Three Stooges
Maryscott O'Connor = Sinead O'Connor crossed with William Butler Yeats crossed with James Joyce crossed with the mouth of a sailor (Badass Buddusky from 'Last Detail')
DHinMI = HOchiMINH
Kimberley Stone = Maryscott O'Connor's soul sister crossed w Badass Buddusky's blood brother crossed w my wife's primal screaming
Timoteo = St. Paul crossed w St. John the Baptist crossed w St. Charles Place w/ a hotel
Hunter = Fred Dryer crossed w Catfish
Kid Oakland = Jack London crossed w Eldridge Cleaver crossed w Edmund G. Brown, Jr.
Galiel = All the Martyred Saints crossed w Einstein
a gilas girl = Rita Hayworth (for the greatest gen)crossed w Raquel Welch (for the boomers) crossed w Selma Hayek (slackers) crossed w Camille Paglia
DemfromCt = Yoda crossed w King Solomon crossed w Prince Metternicht (liberal version)
Markos Moulitsas Zuniga = Beatlemania crossed w Capt. Merrill Steubing
Your turn below, after the poll: