The Voice of One Crying In The Wilderness
Ah, Moe Lane. Is there anyone who puts it better?
Today, Mr. Lane notes New Jersey governor Chris Christie’s (R) recent excoriation of the Garden State’s bloated budget. Check out his post, here. You’ve got to read the entire thing; it’s worth the extra 90 seconds or so. Go on. You know you want to.
‘Puter particularly likes the following take, lifted from Mr. Lane:
I grew up in New Jersey, and I can assure you this: all over the state, suddenly-embattled Democratic legislators and apparatchiks are now routinely referring to Gov. Christie as “that fat [insert expletive here]” – with a wide range of choices for the expletive. Why?
Because that fat [insert expletive here] just told the unions that elections have consequences, and he’s one of them.
Gov. Christie is truly a voice crying out in the wilderness against government waste and union corruption. Let’s hope Gov. Christie ends up ushering in a new era of fiscal sanity, and that he doesn’t end up like the original voice crying out in the wilderness.
And it can’t hurt to send Gov. Christie a few bucks towards his reelection efforts. He’s going to need all the help he can get once the government unions start in on him.
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.