Tag: Humor

Maybe He Wasn’t Ready for His Own Show

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So, the First Selectman heard about Stephan Colbert losing his gig with the Late Show and somehow got the idea that maybe he could end up as a replacement on CBS.  He called me into his cave and said, “Listen Appetizer, I want you to get on the blower with Bill Paley and tell him I have a great idea for a late-night comedy show.  I’ll call it “Late Night Selections.”

I said, “Sir I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news but William Paley died in 1990 at age 89.  And currently the parent company of CBS; Paramount Studios, is being acquired by another entertainment company Skydance Media and they have decided that the old-style late-night show is outdated and unprofitable.  They have not only not renewed Stephen Colbert’s contract; they have ended the whole Late Night production company.  They’ve effectively fired two hundred people in order to save $100 million.”

This outraged the First Selectman, “Who ever heard of anyone dying at 89.  Why I’m in excess of a trillion years old and I’ve never felt better in my life.  Sure, I eat healthy and stay away from fatty food like Mexicans and Italians but last time I saw Bill in 1948 he was the picture of health.  He was smoking a cigar, drinking a martini and pinching his secretary.  You don’t get much livelier than that!”

I interjected that notwithstanding his fond memories of Mr. Paley it was unfortunately true that new management was in place at the Tifanny Network and perhaps this was not the time for a new late-night show.  This got me nowhere and so yesterday I was assigned the task of putting together a stage for this dynamic new production.  As luck would have it, I read an ad for Colbert’s extra furniture going up for sale and picked it up for a song.  I think it was being sold hot by the disgruntled stage crew.

Well with a little alteration to allow the five hundred foot tall First Selectman to interact with human sized guests on the stage we had it up and running this morning in time to go through some try-outs.  As luck would have it Adam Schiff, Nancy Pelosi and Elizabeth Warren were all hoping to get some extra face time during Trump’s problems over the Epstein case so the First Selectman was able to book all three of them for his trial run.

Well, there were problems.  During the first segment Schiff began banging the drum about Donald Trump being a fascist.  Now the first Selectman used to be a close personal friend of Mussolini so he innocently said, “What’s wrong with being a fascist.”  Well, Schiff went ballistic and started going through his talking points about Trump assaulting women and being a felon and starting an insurrection and before you know it, he was calling the First Selectman a reactionary.  Well, this didn’t sit well with the First Selectman so he ate Schiff.  And when Pelosi and Warren saw this from the wings, they came running out screeching at a very high pitch.  As it happens the First Selectman is very sensitive to the particular frequency so in self-defense, he quieted them by eating them.

Well, the booking agency was very upset and said they couldn’t provide any more guests, except maybe AOC and Mamdani because nobody likes them anyway but the First Selectman said Puerto Rican and Middle Eastern food gave him the runs.  So, he’s given up on the whole show idea.  It’s all very sad.

Books Without Capon

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Pitchman/Host – Well, that was a fascinating two-hour in-depth discussion on how a tote-bag ended its life as a cat sarcophagus for Mr. Fluffy Pants.  And now it’s time for us once again to receive our daily dose of wisdom from Books and Capon.  Well, of course only David Books is still on the set.  Jonathan Capon had to be let go due to “H.R. 4 – The Rescission Bill of 2025” stripping us of $1.1 billion of funding and reducing us to this endless round of begathons and hawking those lousy tote bags and crumby umbrellas.  Well, anyway hello David.

David Books – Hello Barry.  Actually, I will have Jonathan Capon on this episode.  We have a camera crew out on the street and they ran into him plying his new trade.  Hello Jonathan, how is your new career working out for you.

Jonathan Capon – Hello David, hello Barry.  Career?  Currently I’m living under an overpass in a refrigerator box and I have become the property of Big Bob and his “posse.”  It’s not great.  However there has been some talk about me taking classes to become a sidewalk mime.  Apparently, this would increase my status and Bob might be able to trade me to Carl who has two refrigerator boxes and rules over a corner that has a working fire hydrant.  Now that’s hope and change.  And how is the fund-raising going back there at the old place?

David Books – Well, not so good.  I thought I had my mother and sister committed on a tote-bag sale but at the last moment those cheap old bags reneged.  Now I’m reduced to cold-calling from the Manhattan reverse directory and avoiding the station manager in the hallways and elevators.  And last night when I went to get my car in the parking lot, someone scratched, “ALWAYS BE CLOSING” on the driver door.  They checked the security camera and I swear the guy looked like Donald Trump.  I’m a nervous wreck!

Jonathan Capon – Yeah, well, compared to keeping Big Bob satisfied I’d say you’re complaining about some real “first world problems” Davy boy.  Has there been any progress on having H.R. 4 rescinded and restoring us to the good old days.

David Books – No, not so much.  In fact, last week CBS cancelled Stephen Colbert and the whole Late Show.  There’s even talk about Kimmel and Fallon getting canned too.

Jonathan Capon – No!!!  How is that possible?  CBS is the Tifanny Network.  They speak truth to power and hold Trump accountable.

Pitchman/Host – Yeah, well it turns out Tifanny was losing forty-six big ones a year and Daddy’s gotta eat too.  So, we all have to do our part around here David.  Starting tomorrow we’re gonna have a little sales contest.  First prize is a corner office.  Second prize is a set of steak knives.  Third prize is you join Jonathan and Big Bob in the refrigerator box.  And another thing.  No more coffee until you sell a tote bag.  Coffee is for winners.  Losers clean the men’s room after hours.  And today is your turn, loser.

Jonathan Capon – Well David, maybe I’ll be seeing you around.  Better stock up on lifesavers.  Big Bob favors wintergreen.

Meet the Pest

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Jonathan Capon:  Good evening I’m Jonathan Capon of the Washington Post.

David Books:  And I’m David Books of the New York Times.  And you’re watching the PBS News Hour.  Tonight, we will be speaking to former US President Joe Bilephlegm and his wonderful wife Dr. Jill.  Welcome Mr. President and First Lady.

President Bilephlegm:  Thank you, Phil.  It’s good to be back in Washington.  Where I belong.

Jill Bilephlegm:  Thank you, David.  He meant David.

David Books:  Yes, I’m sure he did.  Mr. President, since your withdrawal from the 2024 race and the subsequent catastrophic loss of your vice president to Donald Trump many people have been waiting for you to speak candidly about what you think happened in the election and what could have been done to prevent the loss.

President Bilephlegm:  I’m glad you asked Brad.  The answer is simple.  When I rope-a-doped Trump in the first debate many faint-hearted Democrats like Nancy Pelosi and George Clooney panicked.  They thought I really had gone bananas and began shouting for me to drop out of the race.  And then that bedwetter George Stepha-what’s-his-name piled on and before you know it, I’ve been kicked to the curb by these weak-kneed cowards.  And that left that drunken bimbo to try and face Donald Trump on her own.  It was hopeless.

Jonathan Capon:  Mr. President are you seriously claiming that your performance at the debate was an act?  Because at the time it was described as a shambolic disaster of the first water.

President Bilephlegm:  Listen nancy boy I’ve been handling bullies like Trump since before you groveled before your first editor.  I was first in my class at Harvard.  I took a bullet for Nelson Mandela and I fought at Iwo Jima.

Jonathan Capon:  What?  You barely graduated from the University of Delaware.  You never met Mandela.  And you were three years old when Iwo Jima was fought.  How could you possibly have been there?

President Bilephlegm:  I fought at the second battle of Iwo Jima.  It wasn’t as famous but the fighting was even tougher.  I was wounded five times and received three Congressional medals of honor for my service.  I turned the tide of the battle single-handedly and routed the Russians.

Jonathan Capon:  Oh, that’s enough, I’m out of here. (leaves the stage)

Jill Bilephlegm:  Come back Jonathan, you have to let him tell his story his own way.  He’s a great communicator.

President Bilephlegm:  Let him go.  I’ll tell my story to Freddie over here.  He’s a real newsman.

David Books:  It’s David, Mr. President, not Freddie.

President Bilephlegm:  Whatever you want to call yourself is fine with me Kemosabe.  Look I’m trying to get my story out so that my 2028 campaign will get off on the right track.  In 2026 I’ve got to hit the ground running if I want to get the moderate vote sewn up early.

David Books:  Mr. President, are you out of your mind?  You can’t run for president again.  You’d be ninety years old by the end of that term.

President Bilephlegm:  So?  Ninety is just a number.  Remember what Morning Schmoe said about me last year.  He said that intellectually, analytically, I was the best Bilephlegm there ever was.  And he was right!

David Books:  Well, their parent company is trying to spin off his network and lay off Morning Schmoe even as we speak so I wouldn’t give that too much weight.

President Bilephlegm:  Listen Brainiac, they laughed at Trump when he said he was coming back after a four-year hiatus and look at him now.  Why, he bestrides the known world like a colostomy.  In four years when he can’t run again, I’ll be back and I’ll win.

David Books:  With all due respect Mr. President, in four years you won’t be able to say your own name.

President Bilephlegm:  So what?  FDR had Elanor to help him.  I’ll have what’s-her-name over there to do the heavy lifting.  We’re a team.  And Hunter is already lining up some trade deals that should net billions for us.

David Books:  Who’s “us.”

President Bilephlegm:  The American people of course.

David Books:  Alright, that’s enough.  I’m going back to Canada.  At least our crooks don’t smell this bad (leaves stage).

President Bilephlegm:  (speaking in a stage whisper) So, all of you viewers out there, remember to vote for good old Joe.  (yelling) Don’t let the Nazis win!

In a Businesslike Manner

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After a little fuss and muss Speaker Johnson is Speaker Johnson again.  Okay.

And I hear the judge in New York City is going to sentence Trump right before his inauguration.  Who knows, maybe he’s going to try some dirty tricks like locking him up for the inauguration ceremony.  Maybe the Supreme Court Justice will have to swear him in from Ryker’s Island.  Yeah, yeah, whatever.

Okay, so we’re dealing with mental cases everywhere we’re supposed to have sages and scholars.  Well, what can I say.  These are fallen times and we have to expect idiots to drool on themselves quite a lot of the time.  But things continue to fall apart apace.  Some percentage of our veterans harbor homicidal tendencies toward the United States.  Well, they have lowered the standards for mental fitness so this should be expected.

But this is going to continue while Donald Trump begins to assemble and deploy his cabinet and they get to work terminating the deep state.  I won’t be surprised if some disgruntled former FBI agents decide to take pot shots at him going forward.

But I have bigger fish to fry.  Camera Girl was complaining about the foaming soap dispensers that I bought a bunch of years ago.  It seems they weren’t working smoothly.  The pump would get jammed.  So, I took one apart and tried to figure out what was wrong.  Well, there wasn’t much there so I washed the components and put them back together and tried it out again.  Well, now it wasn’t jammed but the damn thing didn’t work.  Nothing came out.  So now I was getting mad.  I took another one apart and cleaned it up and still couldn’t find anything wrong.  And when I put it back together it didn’t work.  Nothing came out.

So, I stopped taking them apart and since the internet is our friend I did a search for foaming soap dispensers and found this cool exploded view of the mechanism and noticed something.  There is a tiny ball that acts as a check valve.  This ball allows soap to be sucked into the valve but not pushed back out.  And I couldn’t remember seeing such a thing in the two pumps I disassembled.    Well, the stupid thing is only an 1/8th of an inch in diameter and transparent plastic so when I cleaned out the pump, I must have washed it down the drain both times.

Now this was very annoying.  I have since ordered fifty 1/8th inch polypropylene balls and a tube of food grade silicone grease.  With these invaluable supplies I intend to restore the two dispensers back into functionality.  Moreover, I will grease all of the pump pistons with the silicone and thereby satisfy Camera Girl’s original complaint about my equipment choices for the various sink areas of the house.  There are currently six of these dispensers in the place and each one will require this overhaul.

I wonder if she appreciates how lucky she is to have a technical individual of my caliber at her disposal twenty-four/seven?  I doubt that she could have gotten the quick response and analytical acumen that I provided in this foamed soap crisis from just any regular husband.  Far from it.  The only thing I regret is that because of the critical nature of the crisis there was not time for me to send out RFQ’s (requests for quotations) to three qualified bidders on the project.  Business, after all, should be conducted in a businesslike manner.

Trump vs Morning Shmoe and Lycra

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Update:

I don’t normally revive an old post.  But this post from 2017 just seemed timely due to Joe and Mika’s recent antics.  It seems back then I spelled Schmoe without the c.  Well potato, patatta.

 

 

Morning Shmoe (MS) – Welcome back from that commercial break and it’s 13 and 1/8th minutes after the quarter hour and we’re here at the newly refurbished set of the Morning Shmoe Show.  And Lycra Spandexy and I were just saying how much better it is to be us, young and in love and not old and racist like President Trump.

Lycra Spandexy (LS) – Yes, he’s a creep with small hands and bad hair.  He’s not beautiful like me.  I am still very, very young and don’t need a facelift and would never get one and besides it’s called a dermatological procedure and everyone gets them because they’re young and not because they need them.

MS – That’s right sweety.  But this is not about us.  It’s about this very bad man.

LS – Yes, he’s a very bad man.  And there was no blood and he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

MS – Okay honey, let’s move on.  So, as you all know we’re deeply in love and being together here on the show and also constantly morning, noon and night, all day every day is great.  We never tire of each other’s company and we do everything together.  Every single blessed thing.      ….        And it’s great!   Really, really, really   …     great.

LS – Yes, and I tell Shmoe every little thing that pops into my head.  Like yesterday when the girl doing my nails told me that I had a cold sore on my lip and I said it was a white-head and she said it was herpes and I told her that my dermatologist told me that you can tell if it’s herpes because you get that tingling feeling ahead of time and then you use the Abreva and then it’s a lot less icky and nobody can notice it under the make-up on the show and I don’t have to go on assignment for a week and that’s really great and I told her that it was a white-head and I knew that because it looked like a white-head and I popped it with a pin and squeezed out the puss and then it hurt but not much and it looks like it will heal without a scab that’s noticeable so I won’t have to go on assignment for a week.  And Shmoe was so interested while he sat there listening and drinking that scotch without the water and I asked him if he wanted some water but he just kept filling up that tumbler and I said, “Boy that’s a lot of scotch and he just kept smiling and nodding his head and it was great.”

MS – Yeah that was great.  Really, really, really   …   great.

LS – But Producer Jorge says we have a caller on the line.  Hello caller, you’re on the Morning Shmoe Show.  What would you like to say?

President Trump (PT) – Hello Lycra, it’s me President Trump.  I was told by some of my friends who are forced to watch terrible shows like yours for a living about the nasty things you’ve been saying about me.  I figured I’d call up and set the record straight.

MS – Trump, you’ve got a lot of nerve calling us up and invading our safe space.  But we’re not scared of you and we won’t be intimidated by your bullying.

PT – I won’t need to bully you, I only want to ask you one question.

MS – What’s that?

PT – Did the network force you to marry her for ratings?  Because if not then I don’t get it.  I mean to have to listen to that blathering for an hour or two in the morning is doable, but all the time?  I mean come on!  Don’t you ever feel like just putting a bullet in your head to stop the incessant babble.

LS – Hah, that’s ridiculous.  Just because you are a cave-man and don’t value women for their intelligence doesn’t mean all men are that way.  Shmoe loves to hear my opinions.  Like this morning when we were in the middle of that long commute from Jersey and I started telling Shmoe about what my mother told me the other day about how when I was a little girl and my sister stole my “My Pretty Pony” doll and I told her to give it back and she said it was hers because she said I promised to give it to her if she told me what Marcy said about me to Charlene but I told her that I found out from Debby what Marcy really said and it wasn’t what she told me and my mother said that I really hurt my sister’s feelings and to this day she still wants that doll and she told my mother that my face looks too tight after that dermatological procedure that I didn’t have done and I told Mom that that was mean and I thought that my sister’s butt had gotten really fat and I wasn’t going to give up the doll.  And then I asked Shmoe wasn’t he going too fast and why was he swerving toward the guard rail and then he laughed and laughed.  And he laughed so hard that a tear was in his eye and then I told him that I was enrolling us in a couple’s yoga class and there was a jazzercise section too.

MS – I’m sorry folks but I’m out of time.    …  BANG.

PT – Thought so.

Debate in Dunwich – Part 4

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BISHOP – Welcome to the third and final 2024 Debate between the candidates running for the office of Dunwich First Selectman.  I’m head moderator Uriah Bishop and tonight we’re here with Great Old One Hastur and unfortunately none of his opponents was willing to show up for this last debate.  Probably this is because he cooked and ate his last opponent, Azathoth at the conclusion of the debate.

HASTUR – Oh boo-hoo.  The big mean monster ate one of the other big mean monsters.  Grow up little pastry.  That is my world.  And that is your world too.  Look around you and observe how things really work.  The big fish eats the little fish.  Or bird or cat or man or monster.  Everything else is just make believe.  The strong survive and the weak go to the wall.

BISHOP – Then what is the point of the weak even trying?

HASTUR – The point is you want to breath that sweet air and feel your blood pulse through your veins for the next minute and the minute after that.  You’ll do whatever you can to keep alive.  And because the strong aren’t all that strong.  If you want something bad enough and work hard enough you can survive.  But just remember not to believe the hype.  Remember who you are dealing with.  Me.

BISHOP – And how are you going to run the show?

HASTUR – I intend to simplify things.  I’m gonna get rid of all the make believe.  I’m strong enough not to need the divide and conquer stuff.  I’ll deal with all of you insects at once.  You’ll all get the same deal from me.  You do what I say and the game goes on.  You get to keep your little lives and hoard your crumbs.  But rock the boat and you’ll get my undivided attention.  Now that’s pretty fair.  You might almost call me a humanitarian.  I love all the little people.  Especially with tabasco sauce.  So don’t rock the boat.

BISHOP – Well folks you heard it here first.  Great Old One Hastur has laid out his agenda for his term as First Selectman of Dunwich.  And in retrospect it is surprisingly close to the policy that dearly departed First Selectman Cthulhu followed.  He tended to eat anyone who forced him to break his routine or questioned his orders.  I’m sure we all will adapt easily to this new management.  Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.

HASTUR – Sure.  When you think about it, it’s a better deal than you’re getting from Washington.  At least I don’t insist that you pretend to like being eaten alive.  Honest tyranny is preferable to fake democracy.  You don’t have to love Big Brother just stay out of Caesar’s way and live to pull a galley slave’s oar another day.  Besides you can dream about a revolt and how you’ll slit the throats of all the masters one day.  Doesn’t that sound like fun?

BISHOP – Yes, your excellency.  What could be better than that.

HASTUR – That’s the spirit Bishop.  You know I’m starting to like you.  How would you like to be my emissary to the humans.  It doesn’t pay much but if you follow orders, I’ll probably eat you last!

BISHOP – That’s an offer no one could refuse.

HASTUR – Literally.

Debate in Dunwich – Part 3

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BISHOP – Welcome to the second 2024 Debate between the candidates running for the office of Dunwich First Selectman.  I’m head moderator Uriah Bishop and I would introduce my four fellow moderators but they were eaten by candidate Hastur during the first debate.  Well, one wasn’t eaten but he started running as soon as the debate ended and by now, he must be somewhere over the Canadian border.  I will be running the debate but we have suspended all rules associated with the candidates’ actions out of naked fear of being ingested.  So, we expect a lively but chaotic night.

Tonight, our candidates are Hastur and Azathoth also known as the “Blind Idiot God,” but in a positive and non-judgmental way.  Seeing as Hastur scares me worst I will open up the debate by turning over the microphone to him.

HASTUR – Very good human, you managed to avoid immediate death.  Keep up the good work.  Well, Azathoth I see you’ve managed to scrape the cosmic barnacles off your face and show up for this debate.  What do you have to say for yourself?

AZATHOTH – Hey, watch that kind of talk.  Why in my day young whippersnappers knew enough to only speak when they were spoken to.  If you can’t keep a civil tongue in your head, I’ll take you out behind the Crab Nebula and teach you some manners, by gum.

HASTUR – Calm down sleepy Joe.  They don’t call you the Blind Idiot God for nothing.  If we squared off, you’d be lucky not to poke your own eye out with one of your claws.  Now let’s cut to the chase and tell the audience of puny humans what we each hope to achieve as “First Selectman.”  For instance, I hope to ban humans from adding artificial sweeteners to their foods and drinks.  All of these additives build up in human cells and always give me a headache if I have more than two or three humans at a meal.  Especially the female humans with their attempts to lose weight to attract a man.

AZATHOTH – Hey, what do you mean by stereotyping women that way?  That’s obviously sexist and it’s fat-shaming too.  What are you?  Some kind of agent of the patriarchy.  Why I oughta haul off and belt you one, you dog-faced pony soldier, you!  And why do you assume a woman is trying to attract a man.  Are you trying to deny the existence of the LGBTQ?

HASTUR – Okay that’s enough.

(Hastur closes with Azathoth and proceeds to dismember him.  First, he snaps off his lobster-like claws and then all of his remaining limbs.)

AZATHOTH – Ahhhhh!  Ahhhh!  You can’t do that to me.  I’m the supreme deity of the Cthulhu Mythos.

HASTUR – Yeah, yeah, yeah.  But you also taste really good baked with some dipping butter on the side.  So, everyone is invited to join me on the beach tonight for a good old seafood bake.  Bring your own bibs and I’ll provide the sides and beer.

BISHOP – Well, there you have it folks.  Hastur has taken to our New England customs and cuisine surprisingly quickly for an invading intergalactic demigod from another dimension.  And I for one applaud his generosity in hosting this party.  But I will not be attending.  There was no talk of what the side dishes would be and I don’t wish to tempt fate by ending up as one of them.  So, until the next debate this is Uriah Bishop wishing you a good night and nightmare free dreams.

Debate in Dunwich – Part 2

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BISHOP – Welcome to the first 2024 Debate between the candidates running for the office of Dunwich First Selectman.  I’m head moderator Uriah Bishop and along with my four fellow moderators I will be running the debate and handling the time clock and microphones.  We randomly selected the two contestants for tonight’s debate.  They are two of the former First Selectman’s closest relatives; his daughter Cthylla and his half-brother Hastur.

Before we get started I will just explain the rules of the debate.  Each candidate will be given two minutes to answer a question.  If the candidate exceeds that time he will have his microphone shut off and will be penalized a minute for the first offense and two minutes for his second offense.  On the third offense he will lose all right to answer questions.

(At this point Hastur moved toward the moderators’ dais and ate one of the officials.)

HASTUR – Now I will explain my rules.  Every time you say something annoying, I will eat some of you.  First offense I will eat one of you, as I just did.  Second offense two of you.  On the third offense I’ll eat all the rest of the moderators and probably most of the spectators.

BISHOP – Those are very convincing rules.  Can I start the questioning?

HASTUR – Certainly, my little dumpling.

BISHOP – Thank you your titanic excellency.  Cthylla, if you are elected First Selectman, what will be your first official act?

CTHYLLA – That’s easy.  I will change the job title to First Select Person!  We’re in the twentieth century here and this patriarchal sexism will be laid to rest!  And after that I intend to change the pronunciation of Dunwich so that you can hear the w.  I will enact a law that anyone pronouncing it “Dunitch” will be fined a hundred dollars.  Oh, and I intend to make rooftop solar panels and electric cars mandatory.  And …

HASTUR – Alright, that’s enough.  Listen you empty-headed boob.  Why should a Great Old One care what humans name their bureaucrats?  Or how they pronounce their absurd place names.  Basically, they’re cattle for us to herd and then devour.  And as for this stupid “election,” I’m doing this for fun.  If these insignificant maggots vote for anyone but me, I’ll flatten half of Dunwich as an object lesson and start eating a dozen of them daily until they come to me, en masse, and beg me to be their “First Selectman.”

CTHYLLA – Hastur, you can’t talk to me that way.  In the words of my favorite philosopher, my future as the leader of Dunwich is unburdened by what has been.

BOTH FEMALE MODERATOR – You go girl!

(Hastur, once again, ambles over to the Moderators’ dais and eats both female moderators.)

HASTUR – That’s two strikes.

BISHOP – Well, I think this concludes the question period of this debate.  I think we’ll proceed to closing arguments and I will ask Hastur to go first.

HASTUR – Cthylla you are a brainless nincompoop.  How my brother ever spawned anything as vacuous as you is inexplicable.  I recommend you spend your time trying to memorize which are your right and left legs and leave running the known universe to beings with the ruthlessness and intelligence needed to succeed.  If you are any indication of what the next generation of Great Old Ones is like then I shudder to think how we will conquer the giant Martian Beetle Men a billion years from now after I retire to R’lyeh.

BISHOP – Well, I think we should end here.  Although both candidates have spoken passionately, I think it’s fair to say that Hastur has driven home his argument, uh, viscerally.  And for that reason he will advance to the next debate when his opponent will be the Azathoth or as he is sometimes known the “Blind Idiot God.”

HASTUR – I like to call him “Sleepy Joe.”

BISHOP – Well said, well said.  Unfortunately, I will not be moderating at that debate due to a schedule conflict that is unavoidable.

HASTUR – You better avoid it or you’ll have an appointment with my alimentary canal.

BISHOP – I’ve just remembered a cancellation.  I’ll be there of course.

Debate in Dunwich – Part 1

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With the death of First Selectman Cthulhu a power vacuum has formed.  But not a metaphorical one.  The disappearance of Cthulhu has caused an actual rip in the fabric of space-time and various Great Old Ones and their allies and servants have been sucked into our space-time and hurled down to Dunwich.

Sighted so far are:

  • Hastur; the polypous, ravenous floating mass endowed with tentacles, drills, and suckers, or more frequently, as the King in Yellow, a humanoid being wearing tattered, yellow clothes and a mask hiding the face. He is said to be Cthulhu’s (half-)brother.
  • Idh-yaa; A gigantic, pale, worm-like horror dwelling beneath the crust of the star Xoth. She has been Cthulhu’s first bride, and with him spawned three sons—Ghatanothoa, Ythogtha, and Zoth-Ommog—and a younger daughter, Cthylla.
  • Yog-Sothoth; The “All-in-One and One-in-All”, co-rules with Azathoth and exists as the incarnation of time in the cosmos, yet is somehow locked outside the mundane universe.
  • Shub-Niggurath; The “Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young”
  • Nyarlathotep; The “Crawling Chaos”, is the avatar of the Outer Gods, existing as the incarnation of space and functions as an intermediary between the deities of the pantheon and their cults.
  • Azathoth; Sometimes referred to as the “Blind Idiot God”, is a dreaming monster who rules the Outer Gods, created them (along with many other worlds) and thus effectively serves as the supreme deity of the Cthulhu Mythos.

With these Great Old Ones wishing to succeed Cthulhu as the leader of storied Dunwich, these demonic beings have each filled out the necessary paperwork and paid the fees to be placed on the November ballot for the office of First Selectman of Dunwich.  The Town Clerk has posted the ballot in the Dunwich Complainer and a series of debates will take place.  But not in the Town Hall as is typical but rather in an open field on Sentinel Hill where the larger Great Old Ones can more easily fit.

Due to the short window for campaigning there was not sufficient time for any of the candidates to obtain the endorsement of either of the two major parties but since the Democrats are rightly considered the sowers of chaos, any monstrous entity would more or less qualify as a Democrat candidate.

When contacted by the Complainer, only Hastur made himself available for comment.  The polypous, ravenous floating mass endowed with tentacles morphed into his King in Yellow, humanoid wearing tattered, yellow clothes and mask hiding his face form.  But before speaking he morphed into a very Trump-like monster.  He was quoted as saying, “These debates will be the greatest debates and all these other Great Old Ones will be shown to be not very great.  In fact, except for me they will all be terrible.  They will all be like Sleepy Joe Biden; very confused and very stupid.  Especially Azathoth who really is the “Blind Idiot God.”  But he’s not really blind.  He’s just pretending to be blind for the sympathy.  Very sad.  By the end of the debate all of them will drop out and I will be first Selectman.  This I guarantee.”

We at the Dunwich Complainer will follow this race diligently and will shamelessly favor whichever candidate pays us the most advertising revenue.  Stay tuned for this titanic struggle.  Winner take Dunwich.