Category Archives: satire

Plaguesby Declares War! (‘Oy, Rodney’)

See the source image

In Chapter CCLXXVIII of Violet Crepuscular’s epic romance, the shooting of Black Rodney the sorcerer, by the American adventurer Willis Twombley, has all of Scurveyshire in what she has decided to call “a tizzy.” You may recall that when Tombley shot the black-robed sorcerer, the robes proved to be empty; and Black Rodney has laid a curse on Scurveyshire: no more happiness there, forever. So everyone is sad.

“There is a feeling among the community that Mr. Twombley is very much to blame for this,” writes Ms. Crepuscular. Constable Chumley, she adds, has said it best: “We’uns do gravin noo bleskit afore!” He couldn’t have said it more clearly.

Meanwhile Tom Squim, the Great Conquering Khan of the nearby hamlet of Plaguesby, is rather annoyed by Lady Margo Cargo’s escape from the Plaguesby jail and her refusal to marry him. He has ordered hand-written placards to be affixed to certain trees, declaring war on the rest of Scurveyshire.

“He can’t do that!” objects Lord Jeremy Coldsore, in his capacity as the whole shire’s justice of the peace. “I have half a mind to have him arrested!”

“A whole mind would be better, dear,” says Lady Margo, still confined to her bed after her exertions in the dreaded Scurveyshire fens.

It is well known that the Great Conquering Khan’s army consists of three rather foolish young men notorious for their inability to concentrate on whatever they are supposed to be doing. When Mr. Squim declared war on the hamlet of Pig’s Delight, the three soldiers wandered off and were found a week later, aimlessly turning over logs in Pocking Forest. No one expects them even to show up in Scurveyshire, much less conquer it.

“But I don’t see how we can stage a wedding with the whole shire feeling hopelessly sad and refusing to set foot outdoors,” says Jeremy. “Confound it! A whole community terrified of an empty suit of clothes! We’ll be the laughing stock of England.”

“We’d better find a way to cheer ’em up,” says Tombley. “If I could just lay my hands on some o’ that Philistine joy-juice we used to serve at my palace, I’d have ’em dancin’ in the streets.”

“And so,” concludes Ms. Crepuscular, “was launched the quest for Philistine Joy-Juice–surely Homeric in scope!” She’s getting that “be like Homer” itch again.

 


This It meens War!!!

See the source image

Well that Donold Trumpt he has did it “now”! He “is” goingto taik Awaeighy our Freedumb by fourcing “all The” collidges to has Free Speach and iff thay dont then thay dont get no Rheserch Grandts fromb the Fedral Guvvermint!!!

This hear is watt hapens “wen” yiu get a wyte spremassist knotsy for Pressadint! He is so Ingnorint,,, i bett he “nevver” wented to Collidge in his hole stopid lyfe!!!! He is like a,ll themb other ordrinary dum peeple thay dont “know” “that” Free Speach IT IS UNCONSATUCHINAL!!!

We jist lernt that in Nothing Studdies and i gess yiu dont “know” that unlest yiu has goed to Collidge!! Free Speach it is jist “anether” Naime for Hat Speach!!!! and neckst thing yiu know yiu has got biggits saying stufff!! Our collidge we has tryed to bee Nice abote it and so we has aloud “”Free Speach Zoans” like beheined the boyler Room “and” aslo in one of the Brooom Clozzits wen tha Janniter he is nott Using “it”!!! But doo yiu “thinck” the Haters thay was Contentt whith that??? NO!!!!! thay wants to “has” Free Speach evryware!!! that is wat hapens wen yiu trye “to be” nice to thoze peple!!!

Our Stodent Soviet we “are” not goingto “sit still” fore This!! so we has votid to Take Aweay themb twoo “Free Speach Zoans” that we had and has none of themb Instedd!! Lyke it sayes in our Stodent Hand Boock thare is reely “no sutch Thing” as Free Speach so yiu beter whatch wat yiu says!!! lets see how Thay lyke it now!!

And if we reely neeed themb Rheserch Grandts wel than “we” wil jist “Prindt Up” our Own munny and Use that!!! and donold Trump he “can” jist go Powned Sallt!!!!!


‘Satire: “The Government Can”‘ (2016)

See the source image

What do Uncle Sam and the Candy Man have in common?

What with various jidrools in government proposing to “stop” the natural processes of the earth that affect the climate, create “income equality” by doling out free money to drones who won’t work, and wipe out the human emotion known as “hate” by really and passionately hating everyone to the right of freakin’ Castro… it’s difficult to think of anything that the government will admit it can’t do!

Hence this wonderful parody of The Candy Man, once a mega-hit by Sammy Davis Jr.: The Government Can, by Tim Hawkins. Click the link and enjoy it.

https://leeduigon.com/2016/09/27/satire-the-government-can/

I always found The Candy Man somewhat sinister. But not as sinister as government.


The Secret Democrat Hate List

See the source image

A totally unreliable source has leaked this document to our blog. Here it is.

From: “Bill” Zebubb, consultant

Confidential to: all Democratic office-holders, candidates, operatives, and imps

Hi, everybody! As you all know, we are the party that hates hate! The Republicans are the Haters, not us. Everybody understands that; but even so, a few of us seem a little confused about who we’re allowed to hate and who we’re not. And remember, it’s not “hate” when it comes from us! It’s “justice.”

To make sure the party doesn’t suddenly tip over and capsize, I have provided a short list of people we’re allowed to hate because it isn’t really hate to hate them. To wit:

White people in general; white males; straight white males; white women married to white males; all white persons over the age of 40 (except for our party’s leaders, and entertainers, etc.); all Republicans and their families; Republicans’ dogs and cats; smokers; babies who are being born (remember, it’s not a person: just part of the woman’s body); The Rich (except for our own party’s leaders, athletes who criticize America, movie stars, and TV news anchors: please remember never to diss them!); Christians; Israel; Jews who support Israel; Jews who are not atheists; and, in short, anybody else who isn’t us.

Until further notice, everybody, it’s open season on all of the above; but let’s remember to lay off the nasty cracks about our own party leadership, a la David Hogg. David who? you say. We made him go away; and we can make a certain AOC go away, too: a word to the wise is sufficient.

Remember–His Infernal Majesty is always watching! It’s his Democrat Party now, so handle it with care.


Authentic and Bona Fide Centaur Footage!

Hi! Mr. Nature isn’t here today, so it is I, Dr. Credulous, presenting overwhelming and undeniable proof that centaurs are really real!

Video doesn’t lie!

All right, I admit one of these five centaurs does look a little hinky, there just might be something about it that’s not 100% kosher. But the other four!

It is believed that Climate Change and Income Inequality have contributed to the increase in centaur sightings. And that makes perfect sense to me–because… I’m Dr. Credulous!


A Celebration Spoiled (‘Oy, Rodney’)

See the source image

We skip over two chapters dealing with scrubbing all the mud off Lady Margo and putting her to bed, and notifying Lord Jeremy Coldsore that his fiancee has returned from wherever she was. She has not told anyone that she was in the Plaguesby jail. Those two chapters were very badly written.

In Chapter CCLXXVII of Violet Crepuscular’s epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Lord Jeremy has proclaimed a holiday to celebrate Lady Margo’s return. This time he first consults the Wise Woman of the Woods before proceeding with his plan.

“Go right ahead, my lord,” says the Wise Woman of the Woods. “This time absolutely nothing will go wrong. Your troubles are over!”

And so all of Scurveyshire gathers on the village green to play swallow-the-pebble, to drink copious quantities of ale, and rejoice for Lady Margo and her upcoming wedding to Lord Jeremy and his friend, Willis Twombley, the American adventurer who thinks he’s Sargon of Akkad. Lady Margo believes them to be the same person and gets flustered when she sees them both together.

The merriment is interrupted by the sudden arrival of an ominously tall figure clad in an unimaginable (I wish she would stop using that word!) black cloak, out of which peers a dreadful papier-mache skull.

“Hear me, Scurveyshire!” bellows the stranger. “It is me–I mean I–Black Rodney! Woe to all of you! From now on, no happiness will ever be allowed again in Scurveyshire! You are hereby cursed, all of you!”

For Lord Jeremy, this is just too trying for words. “This is just too trying for words!” he exclaims, “and it’s time we put a stop to it.

“We have an ancient law in Scurveyshire, you villain, dating back to a time before the Romans came and made a hash of things. A native king named Porky decreed a law that anyone who brings bad news should be immediately put to death–a law which I, as justice of the peace, do now invoke. Black Rodney, I sentence you to death!”

“It’s about time!” mutters Twombley. He draws his Colt revolver and shoots the black-clad stranger where he stands. As the figure collapses on the sward (“I am so happy I finally got to use that word!” remarks Ms. Crepuscular, in an intimate aside), no one hears Jeremy mutter, “It really ought to have been a hanging, old boy.”

But wait! As all gather round the fallen sorcerer, it is soon discovered that the black cloak and the dreadful mask are… empty! Empty!

“I break the chapter here,” explains Ms. Crepuscular, “to heighten the suspense.”


Flash! Joe Collidge Survives the Censor!

See the source image

Those of you who are fans of Joe Collidge–I do hope I’m talking about more than four or five people here–will be delighted to know that this week Joe has survived the Facebook censors and can thus reach another half a dozen readers.

I still don’t know why Facebook chose to stifle him last week. After all, he’s on their side. Joe Collidge is, I dare say, the authentic voice of the Left, whose insights are indispensable to anyone who wishes to understand progressive thinking.

I hear Nancy Pelosi wants to lower the voting age to 16. Don’t you think 14 would be better? Or 12? Joe was going to weigh in on this issue today, but I guess it slipped his mind.


I amb geting Smarter!!

See the source image

Gee i shure hoap I “dont” get bannded “this” tyme like thay done “To” me lasst weak!!!

Now that i has eated Brane Flaikes i amb geting A Lot “smarter!”! I got a litle whurryed yeasterday “wen” i seen the guy pore themb out “Of” “a” Sereal Box but he sayed thats jist “to” keeep peple fromb Stealing Themb! But he sayed “it Was” reel Smart of me “to” “ask” the queschin!

And hear it is Anether Smart Thing i fowned out,, did yiu Know yiu Can Get “beter graids” in Collidge iff yore Fambly payes the Deen and the Prefesser lots and lots “of” munny?? Now i amb Mad at my fokes for Not Paying;; no wunder It “is” so Harrd fore me to Pass my coarses!!!! and i wudd Confront my dadd ownly he sayed he wuld has me Aresttid if I evver comed to his Howse agen!!!! How do yiu luyk that for Cheep!!!

Annyhow i been taking Tests for “the” Geye with the Brane Flaikes and Asing themb all,, i alyaws get 100 One Hunderd on themb Tests butt on my own Tests in Gender Studdies and Nothing Studdies i stilll stink!!! But nhow “I” know wye its becose my fokes thay dont pay fore me “to” “get” goood graids!!! Its lyke somthing out of the Hand Made’s Tail!!!!

Wel i got to Go now becose my Moth Antenners thay are wobbleing awffle bad and i am hungary and i seeen a pare of Jim Sox somboddy thay Leffted on a bentch and thay willl maik a nyce Luntch “iff ownly” i can Get themb “befour” somboddy Elsse dose!!!!!


Master’s Degree Poker

See the source image

Can these guys get me past the censor?

So Manny, Moe, Jack, and Osgood are playing poker, and Osgood draws three cards to make a full house, aces and queens. What a hand! He’s going to win big, because all the other guys are in on this pot, raising each other back and forth until Manny and Moe drop out and Jack makes one more raise–a big one. And Osgood doesn’t have the money to cover it.

Meanwhile you’re sitting in the back of the room reading what Rush Limbaugh had to say about the college admissions scandal (https://www.rushlimbaugh.com/daily/2019/03/12/white-hollywood-leftists-run-giant-scam-on-major-universities/).

“Well, Osgood, are you in or out?”

“Oh, I’m in!” says Osgood. “I’ll put up my master’s degree to cover the bet.”

“Your master’s degree? What’s that worth?”

“A lot! I’m still payin’ for it, twenty years later.”

“What’s it a degree in?”

Osgood’s chest swells with pride. “Superhero Studies, dude! From Humbug University.”

He places the diploma on top of the big pile of money in the center of the table.

“I’m out,” says Jack. “I can’t match that.”


The Return of Lady Margo (‘Oy, Rodney’)

See the source image

Violet Crepuscular opens Chapter CCLXXIV of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, with a Homeric flourish: “Just as rosy-fingered Dawn was parting the velvet curtains of the night, Lady Margo Cargo has arrived at the front door of her palatial country house. I have always wanted to use that particular Homeric touch. If only I could find a way to use ‘the wine-dark sea’!”

If you are wondering what became of the two intervening chapters, I cannot find them in my copy of the book. No pages have been torn out. It’s a mystery.

At the end of her strength, after having to hop on one foot all the way, and struggling out of the dreaded Scurveyshire Fens after escaping from the Plaguesby jail, Lady Margo finds she cannot stand up to open the door. She has to wait for two hours on the stoop before Crusty the crusty old butler opens the front door and finds her.

“You stupid old cow!” he cries. “Where have you been? We thought you were under the vicar’s backyard wading pool. What a nuisance you are!” The warmth of his greeting quite overcomes her. She is covered head to foot in thick black mud, so the fact that he has recognized her is a point in his favor.

“Help me into my bath, Crusty,” she gasps.

The bath being upstairs, lugging her up the grand spiral staircase practically kills him. With his last ounce of strength he rolls her into the tub, then crawls back to his butler’s pantry to recover. “I’d like some water, Crusty!” she cries. But he’s too worn-out to pay any attention.

“I really must pause here,” Ms. Crepuscular confides in her readers, “to confide in you, dear readers! My neighbor, the erratic Mr. Pitfall, now insists that he and I are man and wife. Really, it’s just too much! I am sure I never married him, but now he’s in my kitchen breaking dishes! Something tells me his eccentricities may be getting out of hand. Steps will have to be taken, I fear.”


%d bloggers like this: