| "Your Yackerboom is showing"

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The Holy Delegation from Veltvodel IV arrived on
Earth today, bringing with them a cure for all human diseases, the means to end
all wars, hunger, and poverty, and the technology to enable Humanity to explore
the universe. Unfortunately, they landed within 1 kilometre of the House
Of Commons, and were promptly beaten to death by the London police.
Cardinal Blair was on hand to give the Last Rites, but the Delegation decided
that Catharism was the way to go.

With the Moon in the House of Yackerboom, and
Jupiter aligned with the War Party, we have entered the Age Of Airpower, where
the Beautiful People will lovingly enter military aircraft and, 10,000 metres
above the ground, bomb the crap out of those damn civilians below so that,
reduced to their component molecules, they may be reunited with the Gaia. Love,
incense, beads, and bombs rule, o.k.?

Some of our alien visitors have been raising
concerns about police beatings. The answer is simple. stop beating up the
police! They are really quite nice when you get to know them.
Aliens please! Watch those damn retro rockets
when you are coming in to land! Dallas was a very nice city, and someone
is bound to notice it missing, and will be asking questions! We can't keep
blaming everything on the Bossa Nova! We have told the authorities that
some fool played a Frankie Avalon record too loud, and that seems to be
holding them for now, but please be careful. We are supposed to be
infiltrating this planet, not vapourising it!
We welcome a delegation from the Oxy-Morons, a race
of intelligent game show hosts, to the planet. Apparently, they are here
to teach the Fux Spews Chunder pundits to look like real humans. Quite a
job ahead of you guys, I'm afraid. They did a great job thirty-odd years
ago, making Blood Sweat and Tears look like a genuine rock and roll band, but
the current mission is going to test them. Wait till they see Calamity and
Homo, not to mention Dill Oh? Really?
The Cloning Clinic have done it again, with the
U.S. presidential candidates. The paint job and the tits will fool the
plebs, but they are all perfect clones in all other respects.
This website has been voted as The Most Relevant
Thing In The Known Universe by a select committee from the Movement To Eradicate
Greek Grafitti From Icelandic Public Toilets.

The Punditi, quasi-intelligent bipeds from the
extreme right of the Andromeda Galaxy, have completed taking over the Fux Spews
Chunder, that fabulous fictional news circus that we can all thrust. They
say that they are having some difficulty rising to the self opinionated blowhard
level of their predecessors, but have found that shaving their legs and
increasing the dribble going down their chins has helped a lot. The
replaced pundits were all drafted into the U.S. Army and sent to Eye-rack, where
they were last seen just outside of Mosul, sucking their thumbs and crying for
their mothers. And to think people were saying that Yackerboomism was
fading!

Doc, former member of the Seven Dwarves until
opting for a solo career as a garden gnome. has been persueded to rejoin the
group in the studio to help with their comback album, 'Hi Ho Hi Ho, It's Off To
Iraq We Go'. Snow White is far too senile these days to make an
appearance, and will be replaced by Condaleezalaazaloozabatguano Ricepudding,
who really needs this image makeover.

And when Lord Yackerboom came to this place, which
was not like the other place except around the edges, he found Baal minding
the shop, saying that The Big Fellow was off for a bit of R and R, what
with King George the Dubberyar giving all those breakfast prayer orders, and,
lo, Baal did cry to the heavens that he hates having to look after all the good
people like Mother Theresa, when he has quite a good job in Diablo II, doing
dark side thingies like Dickless Cheney was wont to do. And the Yackerboom
did say, better you than me. Then the Yackerboom went to the pet store,
but found it full of decaying parrot sketches, so he cried, O Baal, if you are
bored, go forth and collaterally damage something, it does not matter whether
the shop be minded or not, lest it be a cheese shop, the ruling classes are far
to busy changing regimes to care about personal freshness or collecting second
hand bagels. Then he said to Baal, get a new job, you need to be working
in the Holy Aura of Direct X 10, not wandering around a world that could run on
anything Pentium class. Take up your shaders and polygons and walk,
my old foreskin impersonator. You can't spend eternity as a low res bad
guy. And cast you not pearls before swine, for the buggers will eat them,
and they were a good hippy band as well. And Baal did take up his electric
tambourine, and did a passable version of a well known Ted Nugent guitar
solo. Then The Beast came forth, they knew him by his number, for it
was a human number, 1-800 BEAST. And when he was told that The Big Fellow
was on hols, he cried out, lo, times a'wasting, let's get those regimes changed,
and he left for Eye-rack but, catching an Air Force plane with precision
guidance, he ended up simultaniously in Tierra Del Fuego, Diego
Garcia, and also Zimbabwe, where he passed out of all knowledge. Then
Baal pointed out that they were now in deep tutu, as The Big Fellow needs to
have The Beast around, to threaten the plebs with. Then the Yackerboom
said that it didn't matter all that much, what with The Beast being a bit wet,
you know, even him getting his spotty botty saved at the very end, what is
needed is an entity completely unsavable, like King George the Dubberyar, who
will be looking for a real job soon. Then the air was torn asunder by a
droning, feedback sound. Fear not, the Yackerboom cried, 'tis naught but
Carlos Santana tuning up. Then all the humans wrung their hands, as there was a
shortage of bells. Also, a shortage of belles, said Baal, noticing most of
the males holding hands, and other things. Here ends a very silly part of
this website, which is really saying something. So it is written, so shall
it be read.

Copyright (C) 2006-2008 Brian Brett. All rights
reserved.
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