When the revolution comes…
…and if we outlaws have any true revolutionary spirit, we’ll greet the mainstream press first, with hot tar, filthy pigeon feathers, and stocks built and set out in the public square. To be followed immediately by the merciless taunts of John Bolton’s mustache, Regis, echoing in their blistered treasonous ears.
As for Axelrod’s mustache, I say we have that thing forcibly shaved off, carefully reconfigured, and then returned to Stalin’s moldering corpse, from which the Chicago red initially borrowed it.
– Though it is very communisty that they shared it in the first place, so at least they’ve got ideological purity to speak for them. Which, I guess that’s a small victory for the historical dialectic.
(thanks to nr)
update: Your wish is our command, master. Would you like us now to polish your kingly eggs with the loofah?