Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Ваш туалет разводит Большевиков?

Last night I had a dream that America impulsively started a war with Russia.

In an attempt at self-preservation, I decided to emigrate to Russia through an agency on the country's east coast. I got there through a tunnel that began in western Europe. Once I got there, I began speaking with an immigration intern (who seemed to also be American) about lots of questions I had regarding safety, mobility, and whether or not I had to take sides.

While we were talking, the intern's supervisor came up and started complaining because it was closing time, and he couldn't go home until everyone else was working. He was stereotypically Russian: mustached, short, beer belly, definitely drunk. He was wearing a cotton, crew-neck sweatshirt and had longish gray hair that was rumpled and only slightly covering his bald spot.

At this point, I interjected with a question for the supervisor about some concern I had. He responded by gesturing out the window. There were large animals outside that you might hope to find on a safari, one of which was an alligator that had a green cloth suit on that was supposed to make him look like a dinosaur. The supervisor asked if I thought that a country with animals like that would ever let something bad happen to me.

At that point, everyone decided to go home and left me at the agency. Since I had no place to go, I curled up in the agency's bomb shelter, which was just a wooden crate. To let you know what day you sealed yourself inside, it had a coin with the date engraved on it which I think it was August 29, 2009. A prophesy perhaps?


On an unrelated note, I think it would be nice to go to sleep early tonight and wake up with a new president. It's kind of like Christmas.


On yet another note, is it too soon for McCarthyism to be funny? If anyone says yes, he or she is probably a Communist pig and should be blacklisted and/or shot on site. Same thing for the dirty socialists.

Which reminds me: I wish there were a punctuation mark for sarcasm. Duncan, one of my old high school classmates, had an idea for this. He called it the "sarc," and it was a small circle that went at the end of the sentence (like a period.) I think he was on to something.

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