Archive
08/07/08 - (1)
The Grand Duchy of Douche Goes to the Olympics The mandate went out, from the castle atop Mount Ordurous, That the postage-stamp principality gather, from its foul citizenry, The most diversified team of malodorous scumbaggers,
To represent the Grand Duchy of Douche In the upcoming Beijing Olympics, To flaunt its presence in the opening ceremony's Parade of Nations,
Regardless that it was too small to honorably compete in any events. It was a matter of national pride, Proclaimed by his Exaltedness on High himself — Haile Go-Lowly —
To which exulted and hallowed end the tiny cesspool of a state rallied, Holding sector trials, block by block, gutter by gutter, To determine the rankest and most scrofulous of ne'er-do-wells,
Who might make spectacles of themselves, In the upcoming spectacle of spectacular spectacularities, To stake their claim to inglorious fame, just by being there,
Just because being there would, indeed, say that Douche Was represented in humanity's greatest coming together, Its celebration of the potential for peaceful intercourse.
After considerable bickering, devious quarreling, murderous threats, Fallings out and rapprochements trivial and earth-scourging, A swarm of twelve incongruous and unqualified Douchebaggers
(Rufus "Hot" Diggity-Dog, Cletus Swockhammer, Rapunzel Nutgatherer, Golondrina Nightingale, Essie Glockenspiel, Kananga Rastafariña, Congoleeza Bonjobogusabando,
Venus-Serena Canocornocobba, Oskar D. Kettledrumrunner, Hector V. Turnipseed, A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada, Chaim-Yitzi Chou-En-Mao Berlusconi Laughinggas Schmatte)
Was selected, from the most riffish of raffish rabble, to make the trip, The dirtiest dozen of the Duchy of Douche ever assembled, Who would dishonor the sovereign colors: black, brown, mustard.
It took months for the principality's tailors and seamstresses To cobble together the ill-fitting ceremonial uniforms And additional months to teach the twelve smelly representatives
How to get into and out of them, to highlight their slovenliness, Ensuring that wardrobe malfunctions would be kept to a maximum, That, at all costs and times, the indignity of Douche would be sullied.
When the royal spectaclers arrived in Beijing, they shit their pants. Authorities, with despotic dispatch, totalitarianly seized their visas, To the man-plague, the woman-phage, citing each as "scabrous,"
"Threats to freedom of assembly, speech, religion, conscience" — All the rights naturally deserving of decent human beings, Which China, throughout its history, has so oppressively revered —
Sent them packing, back to the Grand Duchy of Douche, With their fit-to-be-tied tails stuck between their reeking cheeks. Since that day, no Douchebagger has been permitted to buy Chinese.
08/07/08 - (1)
|
|||
|
|||
