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Author Topic: The Never Ending Americana Story (Death certificate issued)  (Read 95095 times)
Abdul the Damned
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« Reply #2900 on: April 11, 2012, 06:11:44 pm »
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The new Blair House Chief of Staff is having a breakfast with his wife.

Fred: All right, this ostentatious silence is getting really annoying.
Molly: ...
Fred: I said, this ostentatious silence is getting really annoying.
Molly: Well, you wouldn't listen to what I have to say anyway, so why bother?
Fred: Oh, for the love of God... Don't you see I'm more busy than I was before? I mean, I'm the f**king Chief of Staff to the President.
Molly: And that's exactly what you don't want to talk about.
Fred: Christ, woman, you always were telling me how proud you are I'm advancing in my career, and now...
Molly: And now, I'm just... I don't know how to put it, Fred. I don't like an idea of you working for this man.
Fred: He needs me and I'm damn happy for my job.
Molly: Fred, listen for a second. I love you so much to see something happening to you.
Fred: Now what?
Molly: Your job is not very safe, isn't it?



December 7, 1993
Roof Garden of the Watergate Complex, Washington, D.C.

The Senior Counselor to the President of the United States is contemplating an impressive view with his secretary standing by.
Wargrave: (looking in the White House direction) Such an incredible building, Susan. So modest when compared with many others seats of power around the world, yet so magnificent with it's simplicity and history it contains. These white walls saw a great visions, bold moves that made into a legend and our history. And saw a lot of common pettines, disloyalty and treason. No administration will ever succeed, if the latter examples prevail within it. Yet, I'm used to trust the people, but sometimes, one need to ask.
Susan: Sir?
Wargrave: Susan, I need to ask you something.
Susan: Yes?
Wargrave: Susan... can I trust you?
Susan: Yes you can, sir. Absolutely
Wargrave: Oh Susan, you're giving me such a pain, but I don't believe you.
Susan: Bu...
Wargrave: I don't believe I can trust you.
With a sudden and deadly precise movement, the Senior Counselor to the President pushed the secretary from the roof and, after saw the body hitting ground, calmly walked away.
Wargrave: (to himself) I was in my apartment when they phoned me about this. What a tragedy, especially since she was such a young, bright and dedicated worker, with her whole life still ahead of. (entering an elevator) You might very well think that. I couldn't possibly comment.
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« Reply #2901 on: April 12, 2012, 06:35:13 pm »
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(Made with Kalwejt, naturally.)
Thad: Hello, Mr. President.
Wargrave: Governor. Please, have a sit.
Thad: Of course.
Wargrave: As you know, my predecessor had a custom of meeting with all major presidential hopefuls.
Thad: Naturally.
Wargrave: I understand you had a little accident after the funeral.
Thad: Indeed. It is poor fortune that not only was the President's daughter was injured, but the culprit escaped.
Wargrave: Fortunately, you avoided the knife, I see.
Thad: Rest assured it wasn't my intent for the girl to be injured.
Wargrave: Such a thought did not cross my mind, Governor. I was been dealing professionally with a various hooligans for years and never found a better recipe for the problem than an early morning electrocution at Starke.
Thad: I can't say I'm a fan of your methods. How did Dent appoint you Vice President again?
Wargrave: We've known each other since Yale and were working together for years.
Thad: I see. I suppose he was able to look past the whole "execution" matter.
Wargrave: We both were practical men.
Thad: He did make it a lot farther than I did; as did you.
Wargrave: Do you have someone you know for years and you'd trust with your life?
Thad: Not really, in all honesty.
Wargrave: I you had a friend with whom you were covering each other's bottoms for years, you'd see that some small ideological disagreements doesn't matter. Especially here.
Thad: I suppose that's something I'll never understand, although perhaps to my own detriment. This is my last rodeo.
Wargrave: I hope you won't be offended if I tell you that, from objective point of view, your chances of succeeding me are, at most, weak.
Thad: You would insult my intelligence to tell me otherwise. I have no illusion of victory; I'm only striving to spread my message. Career politics has never been my skill.
Wargarve: I see you're a practical man too.
Thad: But not accomplished. Perhaps if I'd known which way the political winds were blowing I'd have just secured myself a cozy position in the House Leadership. But I am far too deep for that to be done.
Wargrave: You might very well think that. I couldn't possibly comment.
Thad: Anyway, I don't suppose there's much left for you to tell me?
Wargrave: I don't suppouse you're in a great mood to stay much longer in D.C., considering latest, quite unfortunate, developments. I hope I didn't bother you too much by simply wanting to meet you in person.
Thad: Of course not, Mr. President. Political differences notwithstanding, the office commands a certain level of respect and decency. To not attend would be bad form.
Wargrave: Political class is a rare thing nowdays. I'm pleased to hear this.
Thad: Thank you.
What a weak, unassuming individual, the President thought, while shaking hand with the Governor.
Thad: I really ought to get going - Maine lacks a Lieutenant Governor. Good day, Mr President.
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« Reply #2902 on: April 14, 2012, 04:54:24 pm »
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The tape had run its course, and Mattingly was still driving. One hand on the wheel, he bent down, rifling through tapes strewn about the floor between the driver and passenger seat. Picking up The Rolling Stones' "Let it Bleed", he briefly considered it before deciding on "Santana III" "Ah, this is the sh**t" he mumbled aimlessly to himself. You know, he thought, this, this is the type of music you want to die listening to. For the last sound for you to hear before you were sent cart-wheeling into the great unknown, he thought, to be the solo on Touissant L'Overture, that would be all he needed. Did God exist? He was pretty sure, but he supposed he'd never know until the moment came. As the tape progressed into track three, the track previously mentioned, Mattingly found his mind wandering. You know, I don't have to do this politics schtick forever. I've had my run. I don't have to bother with this sh**t I get from LaMott or this sh**t I get from someone else. I'm rich enough that I don't have to give a sh**t about this sh**t. Suddenly he looked forward into headlights as he saw he was in the right lane not the left. He jerked the steering wheel abruptly, flinging his car off the road and into the lake. The last thing he thought as he fell was "Is it worth dying now?"
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Abdul the Damned
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« Reply #2903 on: April 16, 2012, 05:05:20 pm »
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A man just recently turned 80, but liked to describe himself, pretty truthfully, as to be in a better shape than many of his younger neighbours in this expensive suburban neighbourhood in Arlington. When Fred entered his lawn, he was busy working in his garden. When he spoke, there was no sign of a foreign accent.
Man: I must say I expected you little earlier.
Fred: Well... it's just 8 AM.
Man: I'm always getting up no later than 6 AM.
Fred: Working with your flowers, sir?
Man: I cannot live without my flowers.
Officially, the house was occupied by Mr. Albert Ritter, a wealthy and well-connected retired real estate developer from German-American family, who happened to be especially generous campaign contributor to the Democratic Party. But Fred was one of the very few people, who knew much more.
Fred: I admire your sense of self-discipline, Hauptsturmführer.
Hermann Brunner, formerly a SS-Hauptsturmführer, who after war worked as a advisor to the South African regime and, in the United States, became known, to those selected, as head of the best private intelligence of the land, just smiled ironically.
Fred: So, can we have a little talk, sir?
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« Reply #2904 on: April 17, 2012, 05:43:13 pm »
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Wargrave: (still reading a morning newspaper) Have you spoke with Mr. Ritter?
Fred: Yes I have, Mr. President.
Wargrave: Still busy with his garden?
Fred: Indeed.
Wargrave: You wanted to say something?
Fred: Actually... yes. What I saw was an energetic, nice retire, spending his free time with roses. Hard to believe the same man...
Wargrave: Did send approximately 2000 Jews to gas?
Fred: Yes... Sir, doesn't that bother you a little?
Wargrave: Why would it? I'm interested in what he's doing for us now, not what he was doing over fifty years ago.
Fred: Well, sir, you know my grandmother was a Jewish.
Wargrave: My dear chap, as long as you're not f**king my daughters, all I mind is a quality of work you're doing for me. Speaking of work, what else?
Fred: Mattingly, Mr. President.
Wargrave: Do we know anything?
Fred: Nothing. He is still missing.
Wargrave: Well, if I have no idea about his whereabouts, then he is, indeed, hopelessly lost somewhere.
Fred: Folsom.
Wargrave: Folsom? What about that little barmpot?
Fred: The Governor would like to meet with you.
Wargrave: "The Governor"... The only reason he is one is that my predecessor had an astonishing capability of forgiving the people of being an idiots. I have far more important tasks to handle than meeting with that sore waste of seed. Next?
Fred: Wilkinson.
Wargrave: I doubt his departure significantly affected an incredibly high percentage of Wyomingites with a mental retardness. I'll let him go back.
Fred: Um... really, Mr. President? You would actually pardon someone?
Wargrave: I like to have him around. Every time he opens his deformed mouth we're raising more funds. Next?
Fred: Upcoming executions.
Wargrave: I agree to have a pay-per-view broadcast.
Fred: Also, we arrested O'Sullivan's son and daughter-in-law.
Wargrave: Very well, Fred.
Fred: But they doesn't seems to be involved in their daddy's activities.
Wargrave: Is that all?
Fred: Yes, Mr. President.
Wargrave: Thank you, Fred. I want to see Hassan now.
Hassan: (entering the room after few minutes) Sayyid?
Wargrave: Hassan, I want you to discreetly let Mr. O'Sullivan know, wherever he's hiding, that we want him to surrender into our custody to face the punishment he deserved.
Hassan: And why would he do this?
Wargrave: Because, if he won't comply, his son and daughter-in-law will die.
Hassan: Seriously?
Wargrave: I'm always serious when it's coming to the national security, Hassan. If he won't surrender, they will be tried, found guilty and executed as an example.
Hassan: On what charge, Mr. President?
Wargrave: The same as those poor fools who shall die tomorrow: high treason.
Hassan: I must state, sayyid, that to the best of my knowledge, they weren't involved in the coup or any other conspiracy.
Wargrave: Yet, they are certainly guilty of having the same blood as the traitor. If O'Sullivan won't comply and surrender, their death will avenge the spirit my predecessor, whose heart, at the end, could not bear dealing with these scums anymore.
Hassan: Na'am. Peace be with Sayyid Dent.
Wargrave: Four days, that'd be an ultimate deadline.
Hassan: And after four days, we'll shot them?
Wargrave: No. No firing squad for the civilian scums. We're going to deal with them Florida way. These scums are going to fry.
Hassan: Agreed. A dishonourable death to a dishonourable scums... And if O'Sullivan actually surrender?
Wargrave: Then he'll die like a pig he always was.
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Abdul the Damned
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« Reply #2905 on: April 17, 2012, 06:16:18 pm »
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Just hours before a scheduled execution of the tree Army officers, convicted for their participation in February coup attempt, a special military tribunal sentenced Robert Francis O'Sullivan (32, son of a failed coup leader Robert O'Sullivan) and his wife, Stacy Mulligan O'Sullivan (28) to death for active participation in these treasonous activities. Time, place and manner of their execution is yet to be specified



Kerry: Mr. President, you know my personal position on the death penalty issue, but I'm not even going to try to change your positions. I'm here to tell you that I don't think that having a hastily military tribunals and performing a public execution, something we're not doing since 1930s, is a good idea.
Wargrave: Senator, you're an experienced politician and I don't mean any offense by what I'm about to say, but you don't understand the psychology of the people.
Kerry: I'm sorry?
Wargrave: This Nation needs to smell some warm blood and keep this smell in mind. No, it's not a populism. It's a practicality.
Kerry: Christ... very well, but don't expect I'll praise this... butchery.
Wargrave: You may very well use this term. I could not possibly comment.
Kerry: But you are going definitively too far with this son and daughter-in-law business. What do you want? Kill those poor kids because you can't reach the man?
Wargrave: I want to root out the treason, Senator.
Kerry: This is wrong, Mr. President. Just wrong.
Wargrave: You may very well think that. 
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Abdul the Damned
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« Reply #2906 on: April 17, 2012, 07:19:57 pm »
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Kerry: That son of a bitch! "Nation needs to smell some warm blood"... I can't believe he really said that.
Gore: Yeah, but the problem is that the people would actually very much like to... smell some blood.
Kerry: How did that bastard became President in first place.
Leahy: We all voted to confirm him... All right, we all know Jeff's heart problems but, honesty, which one of you would actually think seriously he'll die?
Kerry: I couldn't say no to Jeff, when he gave me his vice presidential pick. All because that idiot Ben Roberts couldn't keep this in his pants. He'd be totally bleak, but would never pull such a thing.
Gore: Again, it sucks, but you expected the people to be outraged? They'll loudly cheer this.
Kerry: OK, guys, we all knew Jeff's personal flaws. No one is free from this, but he was a good and honorable man. Larry is a piece of cold s**t.
Gore: A cold s**t we can't touch, even with a long stick.
Kerry: Yeah, I know.
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« Reply #2907 on: April 18, 2012, 05:03:36 pm »
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Daniels is on a plane to Bonn, talking to an aide.
Aide: No offense, but how exactly are you qualified for this?
Daniels: I have absolutely no idea how I got this job. I mean, I can do a good job, what with knowing how to be a diplomat and all, and I know German, but otherwise, I don't know. At least there's no pressure. I mean, nobody in West Germany knows who I am. It's a whole new start.
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A man may die, nations may rise and fall, but an idea lives on-John F. Kennedy 1917-1963
Abdul the Damned
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« Reply #2908 on: April 19, 2012, 05:47:39 pm »
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Fred: Daniels arrived to Bonn this morning.
Wargrave: Good. And you wanted to say something?
Fred: To be honest, Mr. President, I don't understand how is he even qualified?
Wargrave: That's not a point.
Fred: And what is the point, sir, if I may ask?
Wargrave: I put him in a freezer.
Fred: Was he even worth of putting in a freezer?
Wargrave: I did not put him in a freezer because he posed a threat for me. I put him in a freezer because he is a possible strong presidential candidate in the future. Next months will be very hot and nasty and our best cards should stay away from the heat. Anything else?
Fred: Congressman Lausche, Mr. President.


Meanwhile in the reception


Aide: The President will be ready for you shortly, Congressman.
Lausche: Thank you.
(Aide leaves the room)
Lausche: (addressing you) Heh. Remember when they said the Dead Guy was so ruthless, that you almost can't get more ruthless than him? And now, they are looking and can't believe their own eyes. The greatest strength of our new President is that he can do things even the Dead Guy, who was, in fact, a very... hm... humane, couldn't bring himself to do. Sue Bell Cooter was an innocent prank when compared with what Voltage Larry is planning.
And this is brilliant. I feel people really don't understand our new President, even when they are cheering "being tough". What he's planning is just brilliant, totally brilliant.
He is a great director, preparing a spectacle of the century. This is going to destroy O'Sullivan morally. Do you really think he'll surrender and face the chair just to save his damn son and damn daughter-in-law from frying? If so, you're an idiot. It's almost like a good soap opera, perfect to satisfy our nation's desires. Maybe some liberal idiots will complain... what? I'm a liberal too, just not a latte liberal. I'm from Cleveland, remember? Now, you have to excuse me...
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« Reply #2909 on: April 19, 2012, 07:06:23 pm »
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Meanwhile
Mount St. Sepulchre Franciscan Monastery


Older Monk: Just put this box by the wall, Brother Mark.
Younger Monk: With all due respect, Brother John, but are you sure you can manage the entire garden work?
F**k you, you little jerk, the older monk thought. I managed to bring the universal health care to this country, so garden is a piece of cake.
Older Monk: I'm trying to do my best brother.

At the other end of a garden

Monk: Brother John is an intriguing individual. I know that our lives before entering the convent doesn't matter, but he seems oddly familiar to me for some reason.
Second monk: Everybody have a past, brother.

Back to the first place

Brother Mark: This is a wonderful, peaceful place.
Brother John: Indeed it is.
Brother Mark: No temptation.
Unless you're a homosexual, an older monk thought.
Brother John: Temptation is becoming really frustrating after many years, Brother Mark.
Brother Mark: Why would you say so, Brother John? I understand our previous lives doesn't matter here, inside these walls, but you seems to be through a lot of events before.
Brother John: Me? Oh no, not at all. Some other person that died, yes he was.
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« Reply #2910 on: April 19, 2012, 07:36:43 pm »
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"Dammit!" Mattingly cried from the shore. He had been able to swim out when the car fully submerged. His clothes were sopping wet, his car was under water. But that wasn't what he was mad about. "All those tapes! Morrison Hotel, Santana III, Let it Bleed, The Final Cut, Close to the Edge! Dammit! All gone!" The Governor was awestruck. He sat and mourned for a few minutes before he realized how cold he was, and that it was well past midnight and it'd taken him at least an hour to get where he was going between fifty and seventy miles an hour. "sh**t..." Stranded in sopping wet clothing in early (and cold) spring in the middle of the night, he strode off to forage for food and shelter. Trailing off in the general election of what looked like a streetlight indicating a town, he muttered "I built myself up from the bottom once, I can do it again..."
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Abdul the Damned
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« Reply #2911 on: April 22, 2012, 07:23:19 pm »
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The clock turned midnight.
Hassan: Well, the deadline is passed.
Wargrave: Robert O'Sullivan, for he so loved his country that he gave his son and some daughter-in-law by the way. (Turning to an intercom) Give me the Governor of Florida, please... Governor! Yes, I'm fine and I'm glad to hear you're doing well too. There's a favor I'd like to ask you. No, nothing special, just your permission for the federal government to use a certain installation at Starke.
Governor: Of course, Mr. President. I'll be happy to lend our state electric chair to the federal government to deal with these terrorists. Especially since it's a fellow Floridian asking for.
Wargrave: Excellent. I knew I can count on your support. You're a good American and a good Floridian, Jeb... Hassan, give an order to transport these swines to Starke as soon as possible.
Hassan: Of course, sayyid.
Wargrave: Let's the play begin.
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« Reply #2912 on: April 22, 2012, 08:10:05 pm »
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Mattingly shivered outside of the Liquor store. Being homeless sure did suck. But he could do it, he thought to himself. Only a matter of having the right amount of balls to do what no homeless person did. Seeing the cardboard sign he'd made saying "will work oddjobs for cheap" fall down, he leaned it back up. Suddenly a voiced behind him shouted "How ya doing' pardner?" He turned around to find a beareded hippie with a cowboy hat, an acoustic guitar, and a harmonica standing behind him. The stranger sat next to him and started doing some humming, fiddling with the harp, and strumming the guitar. "Not much." muttered Mattingly. You? "Well, I can't say I'm up to much either. Jack Daniels, Congressman and rock star at your service."
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« Reply #2913 on: April 22, 2012, 08:14:48 pm »
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Meanwhile, on a desert island in the middle of the Pacific...

Robert O'Sullivan was a man with mixed emotions. He had been at the height of his power as Interim President of the United States, but had been dethroned when Dent seemingly returned from the dead. At the same time, here he was soaking it up in some strange island resort, God-knows-where. Of course, his Irish skin didn't handle the sun well, but that's why they invented sun screeen. And as always, he rocked the sunglasses. He settled in, reading his book, "1984" by George Orwell, thinking how he could use the techniques there for his own advantage when a dark skinned, faggoty looking waiter came up to him. "Former President O'Sullivan?" "Yesiree." "There's been a fax from the mainland, from your friend Mr. D'Israeli. Well, sir, I think you'd better read it for yourself..."
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« Reply #2914 on: April 22, 2012, 08:23:59 pm »
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Thad O'Connor addresses a letter to Christian Mattingly's home in Michigan.

"Dear Cynthia, it is with unease and despondence that I write this letter. I would like to offer my condolences for the recent disappearance of your husband. I understand that with the troubles beset our republic, this must be especially trying. I never held any ill will towards Christian, despite my run, and wish you luck in his return."

Dear Mr. O'Connor, thank you for your kind words. Since his disappearance we've had a number of Chris' friends reaching out, and of course the state police, helping. Know that since 1992, Chris valued you as a friend regardless of your political differences and always respected you as someone who stood up for what he believed. These have been trying times without him and I can only hope that he is still alive. He grew up without a father for most of his life and I don't want his children to share the same fate.

Thank you,
Sincerely,
Cynthia Mattingly
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« Reply #2915 on: April 24, 2012, 07:19:27 pm »
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Out of character:

GTF IN PEOPLE!
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« Reply #2916 on: April 24, 2012, 08:00:50 pm »
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Robert Francis O'Sullivan was led to a room in the Pentagon's basement, frequently used by the Military Counterintelligence. An elderly man, sitting behind the table, was looking at him with an ironic smile.
Man: (after sending guards away) Now... I haven't performed an interrogation on behalf of the official institutions in... 51 years now... Heh, who'd thought time is passing so rapidly. I remember this like it was just yesterday. But I forgot to introduce myself, like between gentlemen. My name is Hermann Brunner, formerly SS-Hauptsturmführer, Sicherheitsdienst... ah, you don't speak German. Sicherheitsdienst stands for the Security Service of SS... No, I don't have to wear a neat uniform anymore, since, as you probably know from school, my former company went bankrupt in 1945 and I'm a freelancer since then. You see, during my previous employed I saw basically every occupied European country. France, Poland, Bohemia, Russia, Yugoslavia, take your pick, I was there. I wasn't a tourist, even if I really do enjoy travelling. I was on official business, digging up informations no one else could dig. My father, a Lutheran pastor, taught me a humility, but I dare to say I was pretty good, since the Soviets put a large reward on my head.
O'Sullivan: What... the... f**k...
Brunner: Why am I telling you all this? Because I can.
O'Sullivan: For the thousand time! I'm innocent!
Brunner: Innocence does not equal a lack of valuable information.
O'Sullivan: This is outrageo...
Brunner: I'm sorry, but you've got a wrong directions, Mr. O'Sullivan. I'm not a lawyer. In fact, I'm a classical philologist by education. Therefore, I do enjoy playing with words, as long of course as I'm digging out my information at the end.
O'Sullivan: Where's my wife?! I need to see her!
Brunner: Ah, your wife. No, I haven't seen her yet, but boys told me they had a swag time with her.
O'Sullivan: JESUS CHRIST...
Brunner: Hahahaha. I see a sense of humor is not your strongest suit, Mr. O'Sullivan. Now, since we shared a little laugh, shall we start?
O'Sullivan: You monster!
Brunner: All right. Soon you're going to be transported to Starke, where they will... hm, how you Americans call your invention? Electric bed? Never mind.
O'Sullivan: I'M INNOCENT!
Brunner: Again, I'm not a lawyer to have an opinion on your guilt or lack of thereof, Mr. O'Sullivan. I'm a digger. A plainspoken one. Make no mistake, you'll die soon and there's nothing that can spare your life. But there are things far worse than death. I really know that.
O'Sullivan: I won't tell you anything, you butcher!
Brunner: See, now you're wrong. I've been extracting informations around the Europe. Even from the hardest individuals. What makes you believe I won't be able to get all informations you have? Yes... hardest individuals. Interestingly, women were usually far more resistant to our techniques than men... You know, I wonder if American women would too...
O'Sullivan: Don't... don't you ever dare to touch her!
Brunner: I'm pretty sure it won't be necessary. For, you see, I really do know my trade.
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« Reply #2917 on: April 26, 2012, 03:26:11 pm »
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Bath, Maine

Thad O'Connor speaks to a small crowd of locals.

"Whether it be the bustling metropolis of Portland, a quaint hamlet like Kennebunkport, or a port like Bath, the Maine coast cannot be beat, and it is with great joy that I speak to you.

Bath often does not received its deserved recognition, but as some of you recall, you do have a Governor to boast: Sumner Sewall. Governor Sewall was a man of great integrity; foregoing the tranquil, scholarly, and promising life of a student at Harvard to fight for our nation overseas. Governor Sewall earned several awards for his doughty exploits, only to continue to serve this nation at home.

Sewall was a reformer, both in rooting out scandal, and in advancements for teachers. Thus, it is with great joy that I announce the renaming of the Bath post-office to the Sumner Sewall post-office."
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« Reply #2918 on: April 27, 2012, 06:05:16 pm »
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After finishing the job, Brunner was standing in a hallway, ostentatiously violating a no-smoking rule, while waiting for a man he was supoused to give full relation to. A man arrived soon.
Brunner: Tafaddal huth sigaratan, ya sayid Hassan.
Hassan: (taking a cigarette) Shukran.
Brunner: La shukra ala wagib.
Hassan: If I may ask, where have you learned to speak arabic, hauptsturmführer?
Brunner: Oh, I've spent some years in Syria. I had this honor to work on Eli Cohen, among other cases.
Hassan: Eli Cohen himself? I'm impressed.
Brunner: Unfortunately, I won't be able to impress you much about O'Sullivan.
Hassan: Didn't talk much?
Brunner: On the contrary, he talked as intended. The problem is, he really doesn't know much.
Hassan: Is this possible he delibaretary didn't tell everything?
Brunner: No. 
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Abdul the Damned
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« Reply #2919 on: April 29, 2012, 04:02:53 pm »
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This is going to be tougher, Brunner thought as the prisoner was led to an interrogation room. Contrary to what an amateurs may thing, women are generally tougher during interrogation. No man he ever questioned succeeded in holding to the end. Yet, a few women did hold on. Polish and Russian were especially brave.
Brunner: Yes... Mrs. Stacy Mulligan O'Sullivan, which, between us, rhymes neatly. Allow me to introduce yourself. My name is Herman Brunner. Formerly SS-Hauptsturmführer, SD. After my company went bankrupt in 1945, I'm benefiting from the free market.
Stacy: ... is this a joke?
Brunner, with a patient smile, presented his SS tattoo.
Stacy: Wait a minute... Hermann Brunner?
Brunner: Indeed, ma'am. I read you're a historian.
Stacy: And you were killed in Berlin in 1945.
Brunner: My supposed body was very well massacred. Too well, I think, since our Soviet friends are still offering a handsome sum for my head. A sum you, sadly, won't be able to collect. I don't like a label of an "interrogator", by the way. Every idiot with a big stick can be an interrogator. I'm a digger. I'm digging informations up. And the violence is always my last resorts.
Suddenly, she spitted at his face.
Brunner: Are you sure you're an Irish? You act more like a Polish or Russian guerrilla. My most worthy opponents.
Stacy: Piece of sh**t.
Brunner: Yes, yes, and you won't tell me anything.
Stacy: Like I know anything. I'm not even interested in politics, much more my retarded father in law.
Brunner: You're seeming to me as rather intelligent individual, Mrs. O'Sullivan. Totally unlike your husband or father in law.
Stacy: Screw you.
Brunner: Oh no, no. I'm way too old for this kind of stuff.
Stacy: And you won't scare me with this lousily play.
Brunner: Lady, Jefferson Dent is dead. There's new sheriff in town and the new rules. That's why I wouldn't be so sure.
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« Reply #2920 on: May 02, 2012, 07:29:10 am »
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Well, I was unsure at first, but the German appointment turned out to be one of the best things that happened to me. I got experience in foreign affairs, and after my cancer went in remission, and after my term ended, I was able to run for political office again. So that was a crucial part of my political career.
Daniels in an interview for NBC, 2012.
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My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair.  So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world.-Jack Layton 1950-2011
A man may die, nations may rise and fall, but an idea lives on-John F. Kennedy 1917-1963
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« Reply #2921 on: May 02, 2012, 07:34:48 pm »
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Robert O'Sullivan could not believe he found himself on a plane back the country he had only days ago escaped (and had been lucky to do so, too). Screw the coup, screw the plan, screw D'Israeli, he thought. All that was out the window with what he'd heard recently. His son, his only son, and his wife had seemingly disappeared by all accounts. He was lucky he still had friends and accomplices back in the states or he might've never heard about this. O'Sullivan carefully examined what he'd be bringing back into the country. Having shed the t-shirt, cargo shorts, and sandals for his usual double breasted suit, he was also strapped. He was lucky he was in a private plan flying to a private airfield. Otherwise, he'd be arrested with the sh**t he was carrying with him. When I'm back in the country, he thought to himself, I'm going to have to survive and do whatever it takes to find out my family's whereabouts and rescue them. He smiled at the gun in his hand. Lots of fun memories with that gun. From brandishing it at a low key arrogant British diplomat in 1982 (when he was Ambassador to Ireland) to probably giving Christian Mattingly 'Nam flashbacks a year previous. And of course there was shooting an attempted assassin only a few months ago who'd attempted to depose him from his role as Interim President. Now, he'd find himself using it and its cousins to do his duty not just to himself but to his family.

Meanwhile in rural Michigan, Christian Mattingly found himself moaning the blues with Congressman Jack Daniels on a sidewalk of a small "downtown". This, this is survival at its purest form, he thought. Aside of course from straight-up anarchy. Anyhow, this was how he was going to scrounge up money for booze and food just like any good homeless person should. He'd only been missing for less than 24 hours, but according to that window inside the liquor store, the media was going ape sh**t over it. Oh well, he sighed. They'd either give up soon enough or he'd decide to return to that life. Anyhow, this was his life for the time being. If anything, he needed enough money to buy his way back to Lansing. He watched, satisfied, as Jack strummed the guitar. Mattingly, no student of music himself, found himself fiddling around on Jack's harmonica without much luck in terms of making a "bluesy" sound. I won't be playing midnight ramble for any cover bands for a while now, he thought. "Backdoor man!" shouted Jack, continuing with the song. When they took their break, Mattingly discovered he had found a kindred spirit in the congressman. "I got sick of this whole presidential campaign bullsh**t." the former rockstar confided. "I figured it was time for a break. But on my way back to Las Vegas, I guess the acid didn't let me know I was actually driving East, to Michigan. Then the bush exploded. And here I am." "And- and the rest of your campaign staff?" "Oh don't worry, they're fine. They just decided to be pussies and hitch-hike to civilization." "Ah." Mattingly had lost his car, his identity--for now, and his favorite casette tapes. But was he satisfied? For the first time in a while, yes.
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« Reply #2922 on: May 03, 2012, 05:01:54 pm »
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I'm the last of the visionaries, Frank. Whem I'm gone, there will be nothing but managers and accountants.

Lausche: Yep, looks like he was right. The dead guy could be very ruthless, very pragmatic, but there always was a clear vision that drove him. This and, deep down, a little flame of true idealism he was able to keep all those years. The new guy have no vision or this internal flame. Nor even a freaking soul. He is a manager: very effective, very pragmatic, but just a manager.
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Shotgun Socialism!
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« Reply #2923 on: May 04, 2012, 08:36:22 pm »
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Might as well make it official

Duluth, Minnesota:

Fred Kraeger is out shaking hands on the lawn of the City Hall when a man walks up to him.
Kraeger: How're you?
The man pulls out a .45 magnum and grins.
Man: Better than you will be!
The man points it at Fred's head and shoots off three shots.  Each of the shots hits Fred in the head and it explodes.  There is brain matter and blood and guts everywhere as the people start freaking out.
Anchorwoman: As you can see there is a wild crowd here and.....oh my god.
Man: WELLSTONE!  FOREVER!

Yep, I think I'm going to take a break from this.

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« Reply #2924 on: May 05, 2012, 06:13:16 pm »
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April 19th 1996

BREAKING NEWS: Senator Joe Penn shot at rally in Las Cruces, New Mexico. Details will be reported as they emerge.
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