Tales of a Wandering Warlord Part 2: The Philadelphia Story

NOVEMBER 2nd, 2006

The bus ride to Philadelphia was educational to say the very least. In fact, thanks to an intoxicated fellow who introduced himself as 'Butchie McGonigle' I learned of the wide range of odours you humans are capable of producing. You should all be ashamed and classified as biological weapons.

Anyhoo, the was something other than the incredibly diverse scents of Butchie in the air, there was the smell of an coming mid-term election. Campaign signs were on lawns, stuck to light poles and even graced billboards.

I stepped out of the bus station and inhaled some of that downtown Phillie air.

When I regained consciousness, I decided that I was going to grab me a cheesesteak, and join with th
e natives in what appear to be the tradition of griping about the general suckiness of their sports teams.

"Lookee what we got here," said a husky fellow in an
ill-fitting grey JC Penny's suit and tie decorated with little six guns and tin stars. He was twirling an elaborate handlebar moustache with one hand and fondling his billy-club in another. I knew exactly who this was.

"Wyatt Earp," I declared, "dontcha know me, it's Remulak MoxArgon, your fellow blogger."

"Listen ya reject from the Blue Man Group," snarled Earp as he fondled his billy even h
arder, "we folks in the Philly PD don't take kindly to any of you minority types."

"I'm not a minority," I said, "I'm Remulak MoxArgon."

"Are ya comin' on ta me?" asked Earp, "because we Philly cops are homo-phobies too!"

Wyatt then rapped me on the head with his club.

"What was that for?"

"Being blue without a permit!" growled Earp.

"Is this becau
se I made fun of your 'man weekend?'"

Then Wyatt Earp reached for his gun.

"Yee-haw!" hooted Earp, "I'm the rootinest-tootinest lawman west of Schuykill!"

I reached for my particle blaster, since Earp was obviously demented by the rush of power being a cop
gave him, I decided I was only going to stun him, and then smack him around a little.

I'm a forgiving kind of guy.

I'm also a forge
tful kind of guy.

If I wasn't I would've have remembered to fish my particle blaster out of the Delta Delta Delta House toilet.

"Oh crap," I muttered.


Thank the Stars of Zell that he was trained to shoot by the Philly PD, he completely missed
me and struck some innocent passersby, I believe it was a nun.

"Dagnabbit!" growled Earp, "I ain't got time for the paperwork shooting a bystander gets me, especially a white person! I got minorities to harrass with excessive force!"

It was then that I decided to run for it.


Since I was on Earth during a major election I decided to see what all the fuss was about. there was a lot of talk about the voting machines, and since Diebold had a factory in Philly, I decided to check it out.

"Karl?" I asked, amazed at the sight of my old buddy Karl Rove with his sleeves rolled working on a huge computer mainframe. "What are you doing here?"

"Hi Remulak," said Rove with a cheerful smile, "I'm just rigging the Diebold voting machines."

"So the Republicans can win the mid-term election?"

"No," answered Karl, "so the Republicans can lose the mid-term."

"Why are you doing that?"

"Because a lot of the Republicans in Congress have become lazy squishy lard-asses who couldn't tell their own butt from a hole in the ground," answered Karl, "So I'm going to scare the knickers off them with the scariest two words in the world."

"What are those?"

"Speaker Pelosi."


"I'm also setting the Democrats up to tear themselves apart."

"How will winning tear apart the Democrats?"

"Simple hubris my alien chum," said Karl. "Ya see, the Democrats have gone as far as they have in the polls by recruiting centrist moderates as candidates, but if the Democrats actually win both the House a
nd the Senate, they're gonna go totally bugshit. Pelosi's gonna think it was her lefty San-Fran ways that won the election, and her buddies like Kos, Cindy Sheehan and Michael Moore will start thinking they can call the shots. This will freak out the moderates, completely paralyze the House and Senate, and leave them with the image as the party that couldn't organize a shag in a brothel for the 2008 Republican sweep."

"I'm predicting that within the first ten days of winning they'll be at each other's throats," continued Karl. "Pelosi wants her buddy and Abscam
target Murtha named as House Majority leader, but the others will want some guy named Stern Hoyer to be House Majority leader. They'll be a big backroom scrap, Hoyer will win in the end, but despite all the talk of healing, it will be the beginning of the end of Democractic Party unity."

"Sounds like you've got it all figured out," I said.

"Most of it," said Karl, "the only thing that can screw it up is if the Republicans name some chowderhead like Trent Lott to be minority whip."

"Wanna go grab a cheesesteak," I asked.

"Sure," answered Rove. "Pass me that wrench, and I'll be with you in a minute."

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