Monday, June 28, 2004
Corrente Elitist Intellectual Quiz #001:
1 - George W. Bush's favorite food is:
a) soft warm pretzels.
b) newly hatched baby robins.
c) peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
d) turkee neck soup.
2 - George W. Bush was born...
a) in Crawford Texas.
b) in a fever pitch.
c) in a humble manger in Bethlehem Connecticut.
d)"again" - after overdosing on frozen mojitos and Nembutal.
3. Cowboy W's favorite ranch chore is:
a) clearing brush and rakin' stuff.
b) shootin' guns and fetchin' wood.
c) creative napkin folding and counting silver spoons.
d) chasing chipmunks in a golf cart.
4. George W. Bush's favorite bedtime story is:
a) Little Red Riding Crop.
b) The Hungry Cataclysm.
c) Goodnight Reverend Moon.
d) The Immortal by Jorge Luis Borges.
If you can -- win yerself some money or fertile land and or mindless free love -- by wagerin' with this here quiz -- fuckin' do it!
Vice Commando Dick "The Pink Puffer" f#!k youz'self Cheney would fuckin' do it! That venous gobbling sheep ked would wager away all of our fuckin' left ventricle chambers if he thought it would pump one drop of ideological anti-freeze into into his own frozen pulmonary artery! So fuck the Cult of the 'W' and their entire neo-fascist Evangelical Monarchist Franco Way operation.
As they say: don't show up for a hatchet murder with a scalpel.
Meanwhile: Don't forget to celebrate the early debut of "Iraqi Sovereignty" starring the usual "legitimate" news players and appearing nightly at John "Bat.43" Negroponte's "sovereign" hand-over puppet theater. There should be plenty of dancing in the streets, flower tossing, air kissing, and moony-eyed semantic wooing coming from the cosmentic counter sales wowsers at CNN and MSNBC and...well, burble burble. Hand-over! Sacrifices! New beginings! It should be quite another fabulous intoxicated cakewalk parade for at least one more 24-36 hour "news" cycle. Yum yum frosting! Then, like the corporatist trinket worshippers that they are, they'll wake up with a sugary headache, forget any of it ever happened, and go crashing off after the next shiny glazed object dangled before their blinky easily bemused beamers.
You know the drill.
*
a) soft warm pretzels.
b) newly hatched baby robins.
c) peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
d) turkee neck soup.
2 - George W. Bush was born...
a) in Crawford Texas.
b) in a fever pitch.
c) in a humble manger in Bethlehem Connecticut.
d)"again" - after overdosing on frozen mojitos and Nembutal.
3. Cowboy W's favorite ranch chore is:
a) clearing brush and rakin' stuff.
b) shootin' guns and fetchin' wood.
c) creative napkin folding and counting silver spoons.
d) chasing chipmunks in a golf cart.
4. George W. Bush's favorite bedtime story is:
a) Little Red Riding Crop.
b) The Hungry Cataclysm.
c) Goodnight Reverend Moon.
d) The Immortal by Jorge Luis Borges.
If you can -- win yerself some money or fertile land and or mindless free love -- by wagerin' with this here quiz -- fuckin' do it!
Vice Commando Dick "The Pink Puffer" f#!k youz'self Cheney would fuckin' do it! That venous gobbling sheep ked would wager away all of our fuckin' left ventricle chambers if he thought it would pump one drop of ideological anti-freeze into into his own frozen pulmonary artery! So fuck the Cult of the 'W' and their entire neo-fascist Evangelical Monarchist Franco Way operation.
As they say: don't show up for a hatchet murder with a scalpel.
Meanwhile: Don't forget to celebrate the early debut of "Iraqi Sovereignty" starring the usual "legitimate" news players and appearing nightly at John "Bat.43" Negroponte's "sovereign" hand-over puppet theater. There should be plenty of dancing in the streets, flower tossing, air kissing, and moony-eyed semantic wooing coming from the cosmentic counter sales wowsers at CNN and MSNBC and...well, burble burble. Hand-over! Sacrifices! New beginings! It should be quite another fabulous intoxicated cakewalk parade for at least one more 24-36 hour "news" cycle. Yum yum frosting! Then, like the corporatist trinket worshippers that they are, they'll wake up with a sugary headache, forget any of it ever happened, and go crashing off after the next shiny glazed object dangled before their blinky easily bemused beamers.
You know the drill.
*
