Fuck that. The monkey is angry, very angry. The monkey thinks we are, in fact, doomed, if this is at all accurate:
Poll: Most Americans Support NSA's Efforts
So Seenyore el Commandante Doblay-vay's approval ratings are down to 29 percent, but apparently not because Americans dislike being data-mined into the festering seas ... which they also probably don't mind are festering, and are probably mined, as well, not with data, but with louder forms of razza flazzim securiosity devices aimed more at blowing up vegetarians and other philosophical agents of terra than brothers-in-law of the Exxon Administration's favorite pet sheikhapoos (which is a cross-breed between a sheikh and a poodle, very trendy in certain places, but I digress).
The angry monkey can't even come up with real adjectives to express.
"Ookity ook!" he exclaims. "Yeeping fucking yeep!"
OK ... the monkey is having a hard time hiding the fact that he suspected this all along and is just fighting becoming resigned to the fact that sinking into a twisted Philip K. Dick novella's version of fascist klankaraklonkama is just fine with Average Ordinary Folksy Folks.
And he's only a monkey. His furious rants subside as quickly as they arise. But at least he knows what to get mad at. His human counterparts, on the other hand, are pissed as hell about $3 a gallon gas, and ... who knows what else.
Doblay-vay's bad numbers seem to be based on contemporary attention spans more than any actual rational reason to be unhappy with the administration. Americans are just tired of the guy ... because they tire easily. And, as George C. Scott scenery-chewingly said in Patton, "America will not tolerate a loser," or something like that, and the war blah blah blah .... Judging from how often I hear it said, without irony, "We should just kill em all and take the oil," Americans oppose that for the wrong reasons, too.
So forgive the monkey if he doesn't get much pleasure from The Decider's unpopularity. It doesn't really seem to mean very much.
POSTSCRIPT:
Monkeys drink more alcohol when housed alone, and some like to end a long day in the lab with a boozy cocktail
"Ah, eekity screw it," the monkey says.
"Oop oop. It must be happy eek hour somewhere right oopity now. Let's get yeekity drunk. Yeep yeep."
3 comments:
oop oop oop oop eep!!!
(Translated: I'm throwing crap at the next mook who stares at me.)
Mata: That has to be the worst monkey pickup line I've evah hoid.
As a "student" of American history (i.e. an ineffetual participant), I hope that Bush's poll numbers dip into the teens, every Republican member of Congress goes to prison, and the Republicans still manage to gain seats in the House and Senate, just so I can sit at home with my brandy snifter and laugh darkly at the crumbling facade of democracy that only I, and a handful of like-minded jamokes, can see. To make it easier for the NSA's super-computer, which has doubtlessly already gained sentience, and is creating a race of robots to murder us all, here are some other key words for it to find me more easily: "Mother Jones", "anti-globalization", "boogila boogila", "new McCarthyism", "environmental rape", "pain is the cleanser", "fight the future". Hey, there's a knock on my door already...
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