Category: satire

Scurveyshire’s Reddle Craze REPRINT

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From November 29, 2020

Introducing Chapter CCCXCIII (Chapter CCCXCII seemed to be missing) of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Violet Crepuscular writes, “Olaf Skraeling’s diabolical plan to win the hand of Lady Margo Cargo by disguising himself as a reddleman has worked too well! All of Scurveyshire has gone absolutely mad for reddle-ing (or should it be ‘reddling’?), and he suddenly has so much business that he has no time to woo the rich widow!”

She takes the opportunity to soliloquize about the pitfalls of crime, adding certain lewd comments about her neighbor, Mr. Pitfall. We will spare the reader. Feel free to tear out those two dozen pages.

Suddenly everyone in Scurveyshire wants everything reddled–doors and windows, dogs, children, tools, underclothes… “They’ve all gone mad!” cries Lord Jeremy Coldsore. They have even reddled the bearded barmaid at The Lying Tart. Desperate to curb the craze, Lord Jeremy summons Constable Chumley and orders him to arrest the reddleman.

“Withy me aw’ yon firthin mizzle, m’lord,” demurs the constable. His keen police instincts aroused, he already knows the reddleman is none other than Mr. Skraeling, and therefor that worst of all malefactors–a fraudulent reddleman.

“Just do it!” sighs Lord Jeremy.

As for Lady Margo, now that her upholstered wooden leg has been duly reddled, she has attempted to play hop-scotch with some of the reddled children. Hopping awkwardly from one box to the next, her glass eye falls out and shatters on the slate. The children, horrified, run away screaming.

“I must now interject my recipe for cat-food turnovers with a dab of toothpaste on the crust,” Violet interjects. It plays hob with the novel’s continuity.

We take Downe wite men’s Pitchures! REPRINT

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[Editor’s note: And then there were none… except for Uncle Joe.]

From June 15, 2018

Hear at Collidge we has got a “grate idear” to Hellp Minorites by taken downe “alll” pitchures of wite mens!!! and this it whil make Minorites feeel beter abote Them Selfs!!

We got this hear big Collidge Haul it is “full of” pitchures and thay all pitchures of wite men and That Is Racist!!!! We dont cair eny more that theeze guys thay fownded The collidge and invented stufff and Discuvered stufff and aslo rote stuff and doughnated “lots of” dollers to the collidge It dont mater eny more thay are wite so evry Thing thay done It Dosnt Count!!!!

Fromb now “on” only Pitchures of Minorites and Wimmin wil be aloud in Collidge Haul and some Deen he sayed it wasnt rihght so we slashed his car tyres for Socile Jutstus!!! that whil teech himb to “keeep” his mowth shut!! and we aslo mooved the Statchue of pressadint Obamma into the midle “of” The Haul and evry boddy thay has to bough downe to it wenevver thay see “it” or else thay gett Put “intoo” Sensertivitty Traning untill thare Minds are rihght!!! We was gointo throwe them In the oven but it is “not” big ennuohgh! and it is two bad we culdnt becose “thAt” woud reely Hellp Minorites a lott!!

Aslo it makes yiu feeel reel Good abote yore Self wen yiu hellps Minorites and Wimmin!!!

Science: Grown-Up Libs Still Have Imaginary Friends REPRINT

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From April 27, 2019

Incredibly rigorous research by Settled Science “R” Us has found that liberals–especially politicians and college professors–have imaginary friends all throughout their adult lives.

“The science is settled, so shut up already!” said Dr. X, who wishes to remain anonymous. “A lot of people have imaginary friends while they’re little kids, but big libs have ’em all their lives.”

Why do grown-up liberals have imaginary friends?

“First, what other kind can they get?” said Dr. X. “But second, and more importantly, who else but an imaginary person is going to provide the liberal with the constant reassurance he needs that he’s really, really smart, infinitely more virtuous than all those people he hates, and much, much nicer than everybody else? No real person is ever going to do that!

“You can’t help feeling kind of sorry for them. They think they’re so terribly smart, but they’re mostly rather stupid. They think they’re good and kind–well, that’s a lie! They think they do everything from the purist motives. That’s a laugh. Really, if they didn’t do so much freakin’ damage to the country, you could almost take up a collection for them. They haven’t got the ghost of a suspicion of how obnoxious they are. And they are appalled and mystified that ordinary people don’t bow down to them and acknowledge their greatness. Ah, me! Being the smartest persons in the world–it’s a thankless job!”

Liberals who do not yet have an imaginary friend, he added, can always get one just by watching CNN or MSNBC. “You’d be surprised how many of them have adopted one of the noozies they see on TV every night,” said Dr. X. “They love getting interviewed on an imaginary Sunday talk show by one of their imaginary friends–and they get a real charge out of it when Rachel Maddow or somebody praises them on international TV. That none of it’s real is something they lose track of rather quickly.”

Is this study saying, then, that the average adult liberal is… crazy?

“As a bedbug,” said Dr. X.

 

Violet Crepuscular’s Pulitzer Prize REPRINT

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Masanori Murakami, SF 1964: the first Japanese player in MLB | Baseball, Murakami, Baseball cards

Editor’s Note: We are unable to post our usual Oy, Rodney cover today. This vintage Masonori Murakami baseball card is the closest we can come to it.

From December 27, 2020

We find Violet Crepuscular–author of the epic romance novel, Oy, Rodney–feverishly rubbing a battery-powered camping lantern.

“I would not have it said that I am in any way superstitious,” she writes, “but I found this magic lamp for sale on eBay. All you have to do is rub it feverishly while reciting the correct incantation, and a genie will come out and grant your wish. But I’m having trouble with the incantation–Ia, Cthulhu! Ugthn mgawlwha fhtagn, Cthulu fhtagn! Or something like that–one of those crazy languages they speak in foreign countries, I don’t know how they can even hope to understand each other. But now that my neighbor Mr. Pitfall has nominated me for a Pulitzer Prize, I think I’ll need a genie’s help to seal the deal. It’s just that this incantation is devilish hard to pronounce! And I had two years of Latin in high school, too!”

Meanwhile, in Chapter CCCXCVII of her epic romance novel, Oy, Rodney, Ms. Crepuscular, who seems to have entirely lost her train of thought, has introduced a new character–Johnno the Merry Minstrel’s cousin, Ronno the Not At All Merry Minstrel. Ronno has just returned from spending twelve years as morale officer at a Siberian prison.

As soon as he steps off the train, Constable Chumley arrests him.

“Why in the world did you do that?” cries Johnno. “He only just got off the train!”

“Ay, liddie, but aw’ yon frythers macks a Whithle scray,” the constable explains. Johnno has to be content with that.

“In the next chapter,” promises Ms. Crepuscular, “the reader will be treated to non-stop action and well-nigh unendurable suspense!”

We can hardly wait.

Byron’s TV Listings (April 17) REPRINT

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CTVA - US TV Listings - 1960

From April 17, 2021

G’day, g’day! Byron the Quokka here, with another weekend of edifying TV brought to you by Quokka University and sources better left un-named. Hey, dig that ad for Bat Masterson, sponsored by Sealtest Ice Cream. We still have Sealtest here on Rottnest Island. I love their Eucalyptus Swirl!

Without further ado, here’s a little piece of our schedule.

7:26 P.M.  Ch. 29   Boating With Davy Jones

How much trouble can you get into in a rowboat? Watch Davy as he and celebrity guest Rosie O’Donnell wind up beached in a hot-tempered homeowner’s back yard! With Beto O’Rorke and his orchestra.

7:30 P.M.  Ch. 08  The House of Atreus–Comedy

You think you’ve got troubles? Watch the look on Grandpa’s face when he finds out he’s just eaten his beloved grandchildren for supper. And then there’s Sisyphus (Phil Silvers) who’s almost got that boulder up the hill when it falls down again–right across his foot. Grandpa: Telly Savalas.  Mommy: Name Withheld.  Featuring John Kerry with some obnoxious hand puppets.

Ch. 12  Unexplained Paranormal Weird Mysteries–Educational (?)

Join host Barry White as he explores really puzzling enigmas: A student gets a C when he expected a B; a housewife finds a lost balloon in the last place she looks; Flossie the Cat will only do her tricks when no one’s looking. Special guest appearance by Andrew the Telepathic Turnip.

Ch. 14  Knockdown! Western Action–Western

TV’s only Western filmed in southern Philadelphia! Marshall Matt Falafel (Fong Hsueh Ting) rounds up a posse (the Lennon Sisters) to chase down inadequate-feeling bank robber Killer Kahn (Ramesses II) so he can be helped by Dr. Fanabla (Moms Mabley)… before he kills again!  Special Guest Star: A woman who looks unnervingly like Taras Bulba.

Ch. 21  Movie–Drama

In “Boil My Socks!” (1991), the ageless Bowery Boys discover a plot by Bela Lugosi to corner the market in bunion pads. Can they stop it before Dr. Scholl is driven out of business? Leo Gorcey, Huntz Hall. Bela Lugosi: Godfrey Cambridge. Dr. Scholl: Max Von Sydow. Tinkle Bell: Chelsea Clinton. Chorus: several ears of corn.

Well, that ought to get you motivated for a weekend’s worth of truly subcutaneous TV viewing! What’s that? Who said I sound like Violet Crepuscular? You wait’ll I get my paws on you–!

A Voat For Socile Jutstus!!! REPRINT

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From November 6. 2020

Our Stait neaded somb moar Voats for Joe Bydin so the Ballit Harvaster he comed heer “to” Collidge tooday whith a grate Big “bag” and he hadd us rite our Singratures “on” the ballits,, “as menny” as we Whanted untill “The” Bag it was full, i must’of wroted my “X” on a duzzin ballits and then he taked “themb” back to has themb “Counted”!”!

Then we “has” a Big Scair becose we wer All Tagetther on the Kampis and we wer So “Exited” that we fergot Socile Distintsing!!! And the Corny Vyris!!!!!!!! we are “all” goingto Dye!!! But then we Rebembermed that The Vyris it is all For Socile Jutstus and it woont “hurt” “yiu” iff yiu has a Riot,, so we hadded a Riot (i fourget waht we Riotid abuot, it duzznt mater!)!

I aslo did Voat for Hillery and Pressadint Obamma thay “are” My Hearos!!!!! it doughnt seeme Rihght “for thare” To Be ownly one pressadint!!!!!! But the Ballit Harvaster he tolled us “a lot Of things” “thay are goingto Chainge!””!! Somb boddy thay sayed we “are” all Goingto “get” Freee Tooission for Collidge tooo and that “is” Gooood Noose!!!!! I whant to keeep whirking “on” my Deeegree in Nothing Studdies untill i “get” my Batchlers thingy!!!!! And thenn I “can” be a Prefesser!!!!!!!!!!

Some Badly-Needed Reforms REPRINT

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Congress Votes to Kill Anti-Corruption Safeguard | The FACT Coalition

From June 17, 2020

It’s long past time our country adopted certain badly-needed reforms. The beauty of it is now we know how easy it will be to do it. Constitutional amendment? Ha, ha. Actual legislation, with debate, and voting? Nope, we don’t need it.

As George Steppanoplace once said, “Stroke of the pen, law of the land. Cool!”

So, yeah, no more of that creaky old procedural stuff. We’ve got MANDATES! And here are some we really need.

*Raise the voting age to 50.

*Term limits for Congress! House: 24 hours. Senate: 36 hours. Cut it down farther if need be. See how much of our money they can waste if they’re not allowed to perch up on Capitol Hill for years and years.

*Student loan forgiveness–paid for by the colleges and universities who hand out degrees in Tripe Studies and the like. The problem with this was always that it was the defenseless taxpayers who wound up holding the bag, which was flagrantly unjust. But to make the colleges eat the cost of what they’ve done–well, fair is fair.

*Auction off all United Nations facilities on U.S. soil.

*Award a Presidential Medal of Freedom to anyone who refuses to bow down to the Marxist gang, “Black Lives Matter.”

*Still under consideration: arrange for the other 49 states to secede from California.

That Woman in Moldy Knickers (‘Oy, Rodney’) REPRINT

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From May 30, 2021

We join Chapter CDXXVI of Violet Crepuscular’s epic romance, Oy, Rodney, in progress. That means she hasn’t finish writing it. And she has left Chapter CDXXV blank to denote that nothing in particular happened. I hope she’s all right.

As the new chapter opens, we have Constable Chumley, Johnno the Merry Minstrel, and the American adventurer, Willis Twombley, who thinks he’s Sargon of Akkad, holding a secret meeting to decide what to do about Lord Jeremy Coldsore’s sudden infatuation with the ghostly Woman in Moldy Knickers. They have been arguing for two solid hours over what to use as a password to open the secret meeting. Nobody wants to fall back on “Our Secret Password”–much too easy for any villain to figure out and use against them.

Finally Johnno comes up with “Mghawlwhg.” “It’s perfect!” he crepusculates. “No one will know how to pronounce it.” But this hope is dashed when the constable pronounces it easily. It turns out he says that all the time.

“Boys, we ain’t getting nowhere without a password,” Twombley says. “If we don’t come up with somethin’, Ol’ Germy’s marriage to Lady Margo will jist go belly-up! And I’ve got a stake in that, bein’ as she still thinks Germy and me are the same buckaroo.”

Eventually they discover that Chumley can’t say “catsup bottle,” so that’s the word they’ll use. The constable accepts it philosophically: “Aye, thurrup’s a frizzin baggy,” he declares. One cannot but agree.

That brings them to wondering if it will do any good to point out to Lord Jeremy that the Woman in Moldy Knickers has been dead for going on 600 years.

“To heighten suspense,” Ms. Crepuscular confides in her readers, “we will take that up in the next exiting chapter!” When she gets around to writing it, of course.

No More Constitution! REPRINT

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Collidge Big Shots Shred Constitution (Literally) – Lee Duigon

 

From August 23, 2022

Wait a minute! We’ve got two law professors and The New York Times saying we’ve got to get rid of the U.S. Constitution–but they never tell us how. All they offer is a scheme to pack the country with a lot of new states so they can abolish the Electoral College–which is something they’ve always wanted to do anyway: let New York and California dictate to the rest of the country.

So how do you get rid of the Constitution? Here are some of the proposals currently floating around in the ether.

*Pretend it’s lost. Shoot, where did it go? Oh, well–we’ll just have to draw up something else. Hillary Clinton can be in charge of it.

*Claim that the Constitution that we have is not the real one, it’s just the world’s longest-running hoax–and then produce a “real Constitution” that’s totally different from the original. Get the teachers’ unions on board for this! Give ’em more money and less work, and they’ll eat out of your hand.

*Discover that our War for Independence was an unlawful act and put America back under the British Parliament. All actions taken by an illegally independent USA would now be null and void.

*Add another half-dozen liberal justices to the Supreme Court and get them to rule that the Constitution is unconstitutional and we’ll just have to get by on executive orders and mandates until further notice.

*Announce the discovery of another serious disease requiring immediate and perpetual suspension of all liberty until such time as there are no more germs.

See? There’s all sorts of things that they can do! We shouldn’t have needed a couple of law professors to tell us this.

[I shouldn’t have to say so… but this is a satire.]

 

Trouble in Scurveyshire REPRINT

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From February 24, 2018

 

Turn we unto Chapter CXXX of Violet Crepuscular’s epic romance, Oy, Rodney.

All is not well in Scurveyshire. The vicar is laid out with conniptions. Jasper the village idiot is in jail with Princess Didi, who, it turns out, is neither a princess nor any relation at all to Queen Victoria, but only an outcast from the nearby village of Plaguesby. Lady Margo Cargo, claiming a touch of leprosy, has gone into seclusion.

Worst of all, various people of questionable morality are whispering that “Black Rodney” has returned from the dead and is “at it again, puttin’ curses on the shire.” No one dares approach the wading pool in the vicar’s back yard.

Meanwhile, desperately trying to raise money to keep Coldsore Hall, Lord Jeremy Coldsore has opened a lemonade stand at the entrance to his palatial drive, selling it for five guineas a glass. As an economy measure, he has dismissed all his servants except for his footman, Sir Reginald Fumfer, who works for whatever food he can scrounge from the larder. Sir Reginald has descended to this lowly estate as a result of an unnamed spot of trouble out in India. Her Majesty’s Government have forbidden him to speak to anyone. But at least Lord Jeremy has enjoyed a brisk business so far.

“Say, Germy ol’ hoss, jist how much debt have you got?” asks his friend, the American adventurer Willis Twombley.

“Roughly one million pounds, old boy.”

“That’s a lot of lemonade!”

“I do what I can, Sargon.” Twombley still thinks he is Sargon of Akkad.

“Well, so do I, Germy. I jist shot another one of those creditors of yours. I put him in that closet in your billiard room. No one’ll ever find him there, as long as they don’t look in the closet.”

“That’s a great comfort to me,” says Lord Jeremy. He has given up trying to dissuade Twombley from murdering the creditors. It does no good.

Now arriving on the scene is a wandering spider collector, Miss Lizzie Snivel, a character left over from one of Ms. Crepuscular’s unpublished novels. “I could not bear to see her go to waste,” Violet confesses to her readers.