‘Puter would like to extend his heartfelt thanks to the fine government of Scotland for releasing the life-sentenced Lockerbie bomber on compassionate grounds. You see, Abdel Baset al Megrahi has prostate cancer and is dying, so it is only just and merciful to release him so that he may die peacefully at home in Libya.
‘Puter has two thoughts on this matter:
(1) What part of life sentence does the Scottish government not understand? ‘Puter’s a simple man, sometimes baffled by difficult concepts. But didn’t Scotland recognize at the time it imposed the life sentence that Mr. al Megrahi would have to die in order to serve his time?
(2) Mr. al Megrahi’s victims died a terrifying, likely painful death as a direct result of his crime. Why should he be permitted to die a peaceful death at home in his bed?
Perhaps Prime Minister Gordon Brown, a Scotsman, could intervene to right this wrong. Or perhaps Queen Elizabeth II, titular head of government could live up to the her billing in God Save the Queen, which provides in the third verse “may she defend our laws.”
Or maybe our government could strap on a pair, grab Mr. al Megrahi as he makes his way home to Libya and let him die in prison as is just and right.
UPDATED: Now, with more hypocrisy! According to David Pryce-Jones over at NRO, there is the very real possibility that the Brits traded Mr. al Megrahi for oil and gas contracts. Here’s your thirty pieces of silver, Judas — er — Mr. Brown.
Always right, unless he isn’t, the infallible Ghettoputer F. X. Gormogons claims to be an in-law of the Volgi, although no one really believes this.
’Puter carefully follows economic and financial trends, legal affairs, and serves as the Gormogons’ financial and legal advisor. He successfully defended us against a lawsuit from a liquor distributor worth hundreds of thousands of dollars in unpaid deliveries of bootleg shandies.
The Geep has an IQ so high it is untestable and attempts to measure it have resulted in dangerously unstable results as well as injuries to researchers. Coincidentally, he publishes intelligence tests as a side gig.
His sarcasm is so highly developed it borders on the psychic, and he is often able to insult a person even before meeting them. ’Puter enjoys hunting small game with 000 slugs and punt guns, correcting homilies in real time at Mass, and undermining unions. ’Puter likes to wear a hockey mask and carry an axe into public campgrounds, where he bursts into people’s tents and screams. As you might expect, he has been shot several times but remains completely undeterred.
He assures us that his obsessive fawning over news stories involving women teachers sleeping with young students is not Freudian in any way, although he admits something similar once happened to him. Uniquely, ’Puter is unable to speak, read, or write Russian, but he is able to sing it fluently.
Geep joined the order in the mid-1980s. He arrived at the Castle door with dozens of steamer trunks and an inarticulate hissing creature of astonishingly low intelligence he calls “Sleestak.” Ghettoputer appears to make his wishes known to Sleestak, although no one is sure whether this is the result of complex sign language, expert body posture reading, or simply beating Sleestak with a rubber mallet.
‘Puter suggests the Czar suck it.