Author Archives: Paul Steven Stone

PINK SLIP FOR MITT’s MUTT


(Recently unearthed from a “Lost Luggage” travel trunk abandoned in a train station in Salt Lake City, Utah)

Dear Seamus:

Boy, we sure did enjoy having you as a member of our family all those years. I would have to say you handsomely returned on our initial $150 investment. I think I speak for the entire family when I say, “Thank you” from the bottom of our hearts.

Now, dear Seamus, we come to the most difficult task of all, firing you—for disloyalty and for, most especially, leading the press off-message on my campaign. This firing is effective as of noon yesterday, when you were sold, at an acceptable profit, to Pastor Malcolm Thomas.

Why did you do it, Seamus? Did I deserve to be made a laughing stock? Just because I tied you to the top of the family wagon, where after a few hundred miles you irresponsibly soiled yourself and most of the car’s rear window? I can forgive a little incontinence, Seamus, but not when it stains my national persona.

And so we come to the parting of the ways. You for Pastor Thomas, me for Washington, D.C. I trust you will find your new position to your liking. And that you’ll always think fondly of the Romneys when you think of us.

In your honor, and to celebrate all the great years with you in our family, Ann and I plan to sing “God Bless America” tonight. Or “America The Beautiful”, if the mood strikes us.

Sincerely,

MITT

Willard Mitt Romney
Master/Former Master

AH MITTY, WE HARDLY KNEW YOU!


Dear Mitty:

I hope you don’t mind my calling you Mitty? ‘Mitt’ sounds so stiff, so formal, just like the blood-sucking billionaire we used to read about. The venture capitalist vampire who sucked dry the lifeblood of a hundred soon-to-die companies.

So, allow me to call you Mitty. If only because we slept together all those years.

Hey, It’s not easy to woo and screw an entire state, but you made it look like child’s play. Swooping down on us. Climbing in our window. A lover who came in the dark and left before dawn. We can still feel the lingering kisses, Mitty, and recall the eager, sophomoric foreplay of your 1994 senatorial campaign, not to mention the SLAM-BAM-THANK YOU M’AM screw job you gave us before you left. Many of us recall that fourth year of your ONE-AND-ONLY term as governor, when you couldn’t find the interest to spend even half your days in the state. It was tough living with someone who was never around, Mitty. Clearly your love—if love it was—had fled somewhere else.

Though your marriage was consummated in Massachusetts your heart was now committed to Washington, D.C.

And what about when you testified about Massachusetts’ liberals down in Washington, Mitty? These days, you castigate Obama for apologizing for America. You were still our governor and you were dissing us to a panel of senators as if Massachusetts and its citizens were some objectionable lab-bred culture.

Hey Mitty, it’s not easy shifting your shape from a moderate’s to a conservative! The things you have to do, right?

And so you left us; leaving your job as our top officeholder unfinished. How many people can govern a state for three years and finish their mission, Mitty? There was so much you still could have done. You had already developed strong relationships with the legislature, knew how to get things done. But you heard another voice calling. Once again, desire was rising. Here within reach was another object of affection to woo and screw. A new siren’s call to chase after.

I guess we should feel proud you left us for a bigger state. But not just any state, Mitty, or one state, but the entire United States of America! And if you don’t win them through election, whose to say you can’t buy them later?

Well, anyway, let me end this before I start to sound bitter. Don’t want you thinking your abrupt rejection has left us sad or bitter. Other states might feel exploited or cheapened by your quick, loveless encounter, like a prostitute who feels undeserving of a goodbye kiss. But we always secretly knew you would love us and leave us.

No hard feelings, Mitty, we were only looking for a cheap thrill ourselves.

Your landscapers asked to be remembered.

Affectionately,

Deval

For The Commonwealth of Massachusetts
(signed by)
Deval Patrick
Governor (in his SECOND TERM)

IOWA’S SPECIAL REPUBLICANS RUNNING A CLOSE RACE


Des Moines, IA—You can almost hear the crowd roar as half a dozen Special Republicans appear to be approaching the finish line in Iowa’s Mad Dog Caucus competition. This once-every-four-year event has never seen such a riotous conclusion as its field of Special Republicans goes beyond all limits to prove to the Iowan judges that each one is more unhinged, unfeeling and venomous than the others. At the front of the pack is, of course, Mitt Romney, Special Republican from Massachusetts—or is it Utah, or maybe New Hampshire(?)—who seems to be running out front of the pack because of his limitless war chest and his unchallenged ability to shapeshift into virtually any appearance the contest requires. Romney, who has sucked dry and gleefully fenestrated countless profitable businesses as a venture capitalist has nevertheless won the Big Bullshitting Event, convincing deception-starved Iowans that he’s the man to save the economy and create new jobs. Yes, it’s a little like Jerry Sandusky running on a “Save The Children” ticket, but that’s why this race is worthy of the country’s top Special Republicans.

Then there are the Three Wise Men of Wacko Christian Ideology: Rick Santorum, Rick Perry and Michelle Bachman, who fought to be included in the “Wise Men” grouping by declaring she has the balls Obama left behind on his Hawaiian vacation. Special Republican Champions everyone, if only for their ability to convince sensible Iowans to buy into mind-boggling, bible-thumping beliefs…that Darwin was not only nuts, but was clearly sent to Hell where he’s getting shtupped twice daily by members of the Aryan Nation…that God created man and woman on the sixth day, then accidentally created gays on his day off. That Muslims can’t be Americans because nowhere does it say “In Allah we Trust” on our nation’s currency.

But the two Special Republicans providing the most pure entertainment and muscular effort are Newt Gingrich and Ron Paul. Gingrich, who never met a moral position he couldn’t both violate and profess undying love for, had a brief sprint to the front of the pack, but was brought down by a volley of bricks, rocks and arrows thrown by totally independent, non-aligned political action committees. And Paul who would cut government programs and expenditures to a size similar to when John Smith first proposed marriage to Pocahontas, is finding great support from students and others who appreciate that one Special Republican actually gave some thought to what he would do as president. Weird thought perhaps, but thought nevertheless.

And so we come down to the final hours of Iowa’s Special Republicans Competition. Each entrant bent on proving how tough, how uncaring and how whiter than white they can be. Health care reform? Repeal it. Taxing the wealthy? Not a penny more. Teaching evolution in our schools? God forbid. Allowing gay marriage? Over their dead bodies. Crippling Social Security and Medicare? It’s about time. Torturing prisoners? Absolutely, especially if they aren’t Christian.

Watch these pages to see who makes it first across the finish line.

Most likely running backward.

Where Have All The Victors Gone?

Bang the drum slowly, America. The war in Iraq is finished. Finished for us, at least. For the Iraqis…well, in keeping with the previous nine years of American policy the Iraqis who haven’t been killed off will be left holding the proverbial bag. The tornado George W. Bush and Dick Cheney sowed with all the bluster of an administration with God on its side has been left behind in a far distant desert land, its unspent winds no longer a killing force for American men and women.

Too many of our leaders have spoken up this last week to declare that the sacrifice made by our soldiers hasn’t been wasted. That lives given were not given in vain. That fortunes spent haven’t been billions poured down the pisshole of history. That this very special and totally unnecessary war launched under false premises by an American president was not the military, financial and moral debacle that it was.

And now the lies continue. We lied our way into war so of course we need to lie ourselves out of it. Unlike Viet Nam we no longer lie about casualties. We prefer to lie about war’s causes. Its raison d’etre. No two voices can agree on why we went to war, why we rained killing waves of bombs down on Baghdad. Or why, given our expressed concern about weapons of mass destruction, we forced out the UN inspectors who could have unearthed such evil devices without taking a single human life?

Was it all for nothing? Was it because Saddam Hussein tried to kill George W. Bush’s father after the first Iraq war? Or was it for the oil? We not only have the right to know, we have an obligation to find out the truth. How else can we prevent another unmitigated disaster? How else can we face the wives, children and family of those who died and honestly tell them their sacrifice had some value, some reason, some purpose behind it other than the lies perpetrated by a band of American adventurers who had captured the reins of our government?

The human costs have been enormous —4,500 American dead, 32,000 American wounded, more than 122,000 Iraqi civilians who died violently from insurgent attacks, suicide bombings, and our own made-in-America bombs. This was an expensive, brutal war that should have never been launched. It was a war we never could win. Like Viet Nam, whatever victory we claimed came from our solemn departure.

President Obama and Leon Panetta have told our returning soldiers that the lives, treasure and national honor we left behind in that scarred desert wasteland haven’t been sacrificed in vain.

But nobody will say what they were sacrificed for?

WHY I JOINED THE REPUBLICAN PARTY (A Love Song)


(F-BOMB ALERT: The following satiric essay contains multiple F-Bombs. Read at your own discretion!)

After much deliberation, I am making two historic announcements. First off, I proudly announce I am officially, as of today, renouncing my pie-in-the-sky, do-gooder liberal bias, and applying for membership in the fabled ranks of Republican Americanus. Yes, I am joining the Republican Party. I admit to being a Scrooge-like tightwad. I admit to hating everyone under 45, and everyone with less than a million dollars in their bankbooks, and of course toto el mundo who weren’t born in the good old United States of America.

America is for Americans, we Republicans always say, and you’re not really an American if you’re not smart enough to have earned a small fortune. Doesn’t matter how you earned it, but if you made it by swindling old ladies out of their pensions, so much the better! And if you’re looking for a political party that will help you hold onto every penny of that fortune, even if it means having to dismantle social security and medicare to do so, then look no further. You are a born Republican, as I am, and you’re tired of all those lazy and ignorant sons of bitches who won’t get a job and who multiply like sex-starved rabbits living off our wealth and largesse.

Yes, I, Paul Steven Stone, after years of haranguing the Republicans for starting unnecessary wars, torturing enemy prisoners, representing elite and wealthy interests, stifling our liberties, protecting polluters and bugging our phones, I’ve stopped pretending I think more of others than I do of myself. I now proudly admit that I am #1! It’s all about me. My money, my family, my friends, my …(Did I mention my money?) And nobody takes care of ME and MINE like the Republican Party. Which leads to my second announcement…

Today I hereby announce my intention of running for Representative from the 10th Congressional District of Massachusetts. Running, of course, as a Republican. That means, I will take any and all contributions from anyone trying to buy influence with me. It means I will immediately tie my hands as a future lawmaker by signing a pledge that will force me to vote against any measure that might raise tax revenues.

Just know that I will never disappoint you. I will be your voice, your conscience, and your balls…all in one! As your Republican representative, I will say “Fuck you!” to old people, poor people, immigrants and minorities with every vote I take. I will say “Fuck you!” to any government program that aids or assists those less fortunate than myself. Or cleans up the environment. I will say “Fuck You!” to anyone who thinks our government exists to serve the people over corporate interests. Just listen for the echo of every vote I take as your Republican representative, “Fuck You! Fuck You! Fuck You!”

And think of all the fun I’ll have! I’ll get to obfuscate my totally biased and elitist voting record. I’ll get to pretend that privatizing or dismantling social security will be an improvement to the system as it is now. Get to argue till I’m blue in the face that increasing taxes on ridiculously wealthy people will discourage the creation of jobs. I love that one. Like a billionaire is going to cut back on making more billions because his government asked him to pay his fair share of taxes! Right! What the hell does taxing wealthy people have to do with creating jobs? Are they holding back on creating new jobs out of spite? If they are, that’s pretty pissy!

Enough of this stupidity. Forget all logic, put your own vested interests aside, ignore that I will only represent the interests of 1% of our population, and vote for Paul Steven Stone (Republican) as your next Congressman. It’s time to bring back amoral, conscienceless, selfish, right-wing sense to the Massachusetts political landscape. Remember, it’s not what your country can do for its people that counts, it’s what your country can do for YOU.

Thank you and God Bless The United States of America!