"Where are all these new faces coming from?"

Dear Dr. Bones
,

¡Rejoice!

Up the figurative slippery slope at Castle Yankeestein [1], the Baron has just had good news. Project AstroTurf™ Bagger has passed the final feasability test! (You heard it here first.) One really *can* take a human--anthropoid, at any rate--dittopan an’ reduce the contents to neomush by repeated concussion an’ attrition in the path of Party an’ AEIdeology.

Here is the neomush to prove it:

sicofit replying to Popham / ? +8 Good Comment -7 Poor Comment My solution is to vote out all incumbents, close the borders, fly all illegals back home, stop letting people whose countries are at war in to collect public benefits, and start anew. I heard a story recently about an immigrant telling a relative from Africa to come to Boston so they could get housing and money. If you walk around the city, you will see so many none Americans flooding the area. Where are all these new faces coming from? Posted 3 hours ago [subtract from 09/17/2011 12:07PM] Reply Link Abusive

The objectives of Project AstroTurf™ Bagger are such that it does not matter a nanoreagan what problem the patient supposes itself to be solvin’.

In fact, I can’t even guess the problem. The immediate occasion is a routine slice of _Boston Humbug_ baloney called "Romney, Perry do a job on each other / Attack records on testy campaign trail / By Hillary Chabot / Saturday, September 17, 2011" Party Neocomradess (sixth grade) H. X. Chabot never does get around to the Attack Record Trail Menace, so perhaps that is the one. His Texcellency an’ Willardmitt, second Freelord Romney, an’ first Freelord Romneycare, in the peerage of Foxcuckooland, are not, I presume, problematical in themselves not for for kiddiecons an’ the conners of little kiddies.

¿Why insist on havin’ any particular problem, though, when the solution tastes so scrumptious? "Life is uncertain: eat dessert first!" And don’t ask too many questions, or else all your clothes will suddenly turn invisible like in the fairytale. And then ¿where will you be? I ask you, sir.

No rose without a silver linin’ though: the flaw in this gem is those mysterious "none Americans." Had the oracle had been conveyed to us at any point by telephone, we could just assume "nun Americans" and carry on [2], but Señorito Poster will almost certainly have typed it in. Oh, well!

So, then, Bones: do not merely make a memorandumb of this precious treasure, please have it skinned and gutted and stuffed by experts. I propose to have it mounted in the Hall of Mirrors to be unto us as a _ktêma es aiei_.

Also to have it readily available in 2019 or thenabouts, when the _nuevoseñorito_ gets all those druthers, but still ain’t happy, a thing which is as about as predictable as yesterday’s sunset. [3]

Happy days.
--JHM


___
[1] On Route 127.5 at the Arkham-Innsmouth line, across from the sixteenth (16) Dunkin’ Donuts of twenty-three (23) on the whight or SE side of the Boston-Newburyport carriageway.

As I suppose you know, direction of Project AstroTurf™ Bagger has been entrusted to Perfesser Tarr of the E-sex Neojunto an’ Doc Feather of the Greater Worcester Chambermaids of Commerce, Inc.. With additional fundin’ provided by the ever-immortal Bacon Hill Institute .

¡Well serviced indeed is his freelordship of Yankenstein!

(( Yes, I realize it was ‘Yankeestein’ the first time ’round. Let me know which you like better, please. ))

***

[2] With or without expressly speculating whether this patient has mistaken the spiritual daughters of Lady Shariah for an obscure order of Ratzingerite _devouées_. The mistake is, again, immaterial, for obviously the couch potatoe of any Superstition or Enthusiasm who insists on wearing her potatoe bag as street clothes deserves whatever she gets. Up to a point, anyway -- "mud, not stones."

***

[3] One hopes the learnèd, neogallant an’ thoroughly posthonourable Tarr an’ Feather have thought carefully in advance about their freenoble employer’s vast an’ megalopsychic Project. And similarly the Baconian Hillsters. I am pretty confident that all that spicy arizenophobia which they mix into their mush is of scant interest either to themselves as psocial scientists or to their Venerable Funders,the Class of Employers, as selfservicers, yet if it does not break down naturally in a reasonably short period, grave problems of political toxic waste disposal may develop.

If you squint at the above mess of e-pottage a little, Dr. Bones, I believe you can already see glimmers of the danger of which I worry. Taking certain words in it certain ways, a strong reader might read it so strongly that one would have to possess -- legitimately and demonstrably, preferably with a picture ID card -- a Christojudæan name like ‘Masconomo’ or ‘Cochise’ or possibly ‘Pocohontas’ not to be, eventually, slated for summary deportation from the _Heimatland G*ttes_.

Dan Paddy Moynihan of Louisdayhicksville, an’ the Tee Putty victims more generally, has been successfully ’turf’bagged into thinkin’ that gettin’ rid of poor old Auntie Zeituni will do the trick. But obviously it will not. So ¿What will happen when the kiddiecons figure out they have been had? ¿When everybooby there are even the remotest plausible grounds for deportin’ has been kicked out, an’ yet, somehow, the streets are STILL chockful of Bad Poor, with slimy tentacles forever reaching out hopefully towards the wallets of their Betters?