To: Guardian Editors
From: Protein Wisdom
Re: Operation Clark County, OhioWho the fuck eats blood pudding? Not me, that’s for sure.
Respectfully,
protein wisdomPS. And cricket? What’s that nonsense?
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Operation Guardian info and backstory; more from Iowahawk, Captain’s Quarters, Treacher, LGF, Cranky Neocon, and Shape of Days
update: see also, Tim Worstall, The Llama Butchers, Right on Red, Cabal of Doom, and Commisar
– “Thats a Cow not a Deer Stupid, Cows go Mooo…Deers snort, Got it”?
– I would tell you what will happen whenever a ruralite Buckeye gets one of those “Fur-een-nur” letters…I would but the gaffaws and cackling is already so loud I can’t hear myself think…
– Whichever tin-foil Democrap thought this one up should immediately be tested for drugs…
– I’m guessing a few will be “returned to sender” with a little cow supprise inside…
– Actually I hope the Libersmucks run this scam in every swing state. Every letter will be another vote for Bush….
That’s black pudding, actually. Or blood sausage, if I’m not mistaken.
Blood pudding, black pudding, blood sausage… You say trunk, I say boot.
Now this is pure Rove. Go to the softest spot of a crucial swing state, raise the cry of Paul Revere, “The British are Coming!” and see the muskets come down from the mantles. Sometimes the expense of a deep mole is worth every quid.
Not to mention a deep mole that can convince the collected editorship of the Guardian that what they’re doing might actually help John Kerry.
This smacks of Smiley’s People, quite frankly. You’d think at least Le Carre would have picked up on it.
I like blood pudding, as long as it’s not loaded with onions.
And haggis, too.
Well, I am a real live Buckeye, from Columbus, which is about 40 miles up I-70 from Springfield, the county seat of Clark County. It would take a half hour to drive over there if weren’t for having to do the orange barrel polka through Madison County, which lies between the two cities.
I am not a Clark County native, but I have spent some time over there and I do know the congressman, although he is not exactly my favorite human being.
I really don’t think that you have to spend much time worrying that a few e-mails from readers of the Guardian in Old Blighty are going to overly influence the inhabitants of Clark County. They are pretty much salt of the earth types and they are not too much concerned with what folks in London, Ohio (pop. 9,000, county seat of Madison County) think, let alone with what folks in London, England on the other side of the world think.
I am much more trusting of the residents of Clark County, than I am of the readers of the Guardian or the New York Times, or any of the other self-appointed elites who sit in judgment of us fly-over people.
Relax, this is one problem that will solve itself.
re: <a href=”re: http://guardian.assets.digivault.co.uk/clark_county/” target=”_blank” class=”text”>http://guardian.assets.digivault.co.uk/clark_county/</a>
i love how they have to remind their readers to “be courteous” and not hector the person they’re writing to. i can imagine some nutter* writing an angry condescending rant and honestly thinking they’ve made a difference, that they’ve swayed someone’s opinion.
* – british slang! diss!
One afternoon years ago I watched a cricket game (well, part of one – a whole game goes on for days – but then cricket people talk about centuries, so maybe “days” is a gross understatement). I nearly had it figured out.
Then, a few years after that, I asked an Aussie to explain the game. Big mistake. I knew less about it afterwards than I did before. The combination of the accent with Swan Lager killed any comprehension.
Eventually it occurred to me: Cricket was not a game, so much as a tool of imperialism. How else could a dozen or so Brits end up runing sizable chunks of African coastline or all of India? It was cricket – the natives would get all armed up and come down to open a couple cans of whup-ass on the interlopers, who would be playing cricket. So the angry but puzzled natives would sit down to figure it out, prior to eradicating the Limeys, but by then their own kids would have graduated from Oxbridge and would be running the colony.