Meanwhile, back in the TARDIS
In an exciting display of a new bi-partisanship, Michael Ignatieff returns home (Boston) to boost his image posing with John Kerry, while Kerry gets to meet with the esteemed Human Rights neo-conservative who now opposes Bush - it's a match made in heaven!
Jeans and boots and flannel shirts on proud display, Ignatieff and Kerry address the press corps.
"We wanna support the little guy," enthuses Kerry.
"The peasant!" chimes in Ignatieff.
"Exactly!"
"And we've got a new direction in Iraq!"
"Preferably, the exact opposite direction we took going in!" jokes Kerry, elbowing Ignatieff jovially - Ignatieff winks and shoots back a gun finger.
"Right, John! Just as soon as Quebeckers are protected from tyranny and oppression!"
"He means 'Kurds'," Kerry explains, smiling.
Once inside their campaign bus, which is actually a re-configured TARDIS, housing a lavish Roman spa in an ornate Baroque style, Kerry and Ignatieff hand the flannel shirts to loyalpeasants assistants, who tear away velcro jeans and hold out ermine capes for the dandies. A small (live) orchestra stirs up Handel's Water Music, and curried prawns and Veuve Cliquot appear courtesy of pages, as Ignatieff's and Kerry's sumptuous thrones are wheeled in by plumed ponies.
"Ah, this campaign shall be the death of these wearied, humble bones," sighs Michael Ignatieff.
"Indeed, old compatriot, as shall mine be of mine! OOF!!" agrees John Kerry, banging his head painfully on the outstretched marble arm of a statue.
"For sooth, why in god's name need we betters even bother to campaign? OH!" wonders Mi, slipping up on a steamed mussel and banging his jaw on his sealskin and granite throne.
"A cruel, cruel jest!" waxes Senator j/k, rubbing his skull. "Can these peons not recognize our imperial majesties and simply acquiesce to our shining brilliances? URGH!" he finishes, smacking his funnybone against the family crest.
"Indeed, I must agree," says Mi, spitting out a molar, "Are we not jewels ablaze? ARCK!", he queries, accidentally kneeing his own self right in the nuts (it's complicated to explain, but he somehow manages it).
"Ohhh, I've done that one before!" sympathizes J/K. "Tell me, good friend," he asks, rolling a delicately pinched finger in the air, "Do you have any Grey Poupon?"
Mi breaks out into delicately stifled giggles: "Oh, really that is too much! You really are the limit!"
"Indeed, I am!" winks Kerry mischievously.
"Why don't they 'get' us, John?" ponders Mi, gazing out on the sun-dappled villages and cities.
"Maybe, Michael, they just don't deserve us," suggests J/K.
"Yes," smiles Mi, "I like that."
Jeans and boots and flannel shirts on proud display, Ignatieff and Kerry address the press corps.
"We wanna support the little guy," enthuses Kerry.
"The peasant!" chimes in Ignatieff.
"Exactly!"
"And we've got a new direction in Iraq!"
"Preferably, the exact opposite direction we took going in!" jokes Kerry, elbowing Ignatieff jovially - Ignatieff winks and shoots back a gun finger.
"Right, John! Just as soon as Quebeckers are protected from tyranny and oppression!"
"He means 'Kurds'," Kerry explains, smiling.
Once inside their campaign bus, which is actually a re-configured TARDIS, housing a lavish Roman spa in an ornate Baroque style, Kerry and Ignatieff hand the flannel shirts to loyal
"Ah, this campaign shall be the death of these wearied, humble bones," sighs Michael Ignatieff.
"Indeed, old compatriot, as shall mine be of mine! OOF!!" agrees John Kerry, banging his head painfully on the outstretched marble arm of a statue.
"For sooth, why in god's name need we betters even bother to campaign? OH!" wonders Mi, slipping up on a steamed mussel and banging his jaw on his sealskin and granite throne.
"A cruel, cruel jest!" waxes Senator j/k, rubbing his skull. "Can these peons not recognize our imperial majesties and simply acquiesce to our shining brilliances? URGH!" he finishes, smacking his funnybone against the family crest.
"Indeed, I must agree," says Mi, spitting out a molar, "Are we not jewels ablaze? ARCK!", he queries, accidentally kneeing his own self right in the nuts (it's complicated to explain, but he somehow manages it).
"Ohhh, I've done that one before!" sympathizes J/K. "Tell me, good friend," he asks, rolling a delicately pinched finger in the air, "Do you have any Grey Poupon?"
Mi breaks out into delicately stifled giggles: "Oh, really that is too much! You really are the limit!"
"Indeed, I am!" winks Kerry mischievously.
"Why don't they 'get' us, John?" ponders Mi, gazing out on the sun-dappled villages and cities.
"Maybe, Michael, they just don't deserve us," suggests J/K.
"Yes," smiles Mi, "I like that."
posted by Jacques Beau Vert at 6:27 AM
7 Comments:
J/K .. that's great!
Now all we need is a "mini mi".
Ease up on the anti-Iggy rhetoric there Green, you need help.
Hahaha,
Great work as always Jason.
So, like... are the ethnic kurds the ones at the depanneur with salsa spicing?
Chucker?
sheena, your memory of our store shelves is impeccable and your love of fine cheese is truly amazing.
jason,
i thought this was hilarious - but the anonymous bit is crazy,
Mini-Mi is GENIUS, man...
And I love anything that can be made to reference cheese, and anyone who can find a cheese reference.
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