And Now, A Message from the Burgher of Bong
The veritable Burgher of Bong (shut up, its a real place) writes us:
Great and Mighty, etc., Dreadful, etc., цѣсарь,
From the outskirts of the Bong Recreational Area, I shamefully admit to having just worked out the tribute our family must deliver to our overlords in Washington and Madison. I note (almost) without comment that the state of Wisconsin extracts more of our sweat and labor than the federal government. Significantly more.
My only other comment is that our state senator is at some undisclosed location just across the border. Should your operatives stumble across Bob Wirch, I beg of you to have them deliver this message:
“To get back to Wisconsin from Illinois, drive WEST on I-90 or I-94.”
As you surely know, we badger-folk instituted this quirk many years ago in an effort to minimize the influx of ‘FIBs’ every summer. (Friendly Illinoisian Bowlers, to you and yours.) Unfortunately, it now serves to cause confusion and delay for Sen. Miller and his baker’s dozen of stooges.
Then again, I look forward to the prospect of a recall election in which the incumbent would choose to hold campaign rallies in a neighboring state.
Happy Mauling,
– Bongburgher
Remember how often the Czar keeps claiming that the people of Wisconsin are totally fed up? And that the protestors in Madison who kept insisting that they were the voice of the people kept getting quieter and quieter? Well, the Bongburgher just underlined all of that. Listen to the Burgher, people. He knows.
Божію Поспѣшествующею Милостію Мы, Дима Грозный Императоръ и Самодержецъ Всероссiйскiй, цѣсарь Московскiй. The Czar was born in the steppes of Russia in 1267, and was cheated out of total control of all Russia upon the death of Boris Mikhailovich, who replaced Alexander Yaroslav Nevsky in 1263. However, in 1283, our Czar was passed over due to a clerical error and the rule of all Russia went to his second cousin Daniil (Даниил Александрович), whom Czar still resents. As a half-hearted apology, the Czar was awarded control over Muscovy, inconveniently located 5,000 miles away just outside Chicago. He now spends his time seething about this and writing about other stuff that bothers him.