Liberal Utopia

What your world would be if everything liberals wanted, they got. Open the door at the bottom of its Elysium fa├žade and take a glimpse of hell.

Qerry's stands on any issue


While tucking in his little boy Johnny before untucking him, Flippin' Flopface told the vice-ambulance chaser a bedtime story.

nce upon a time there lived a sunshinny soldier who hated his fellow soldiers because they burnt down villages just like he did himself. He was afraid that if he did not escape their company soon he would not be able to later accuse them of wars crimes just like those he committed himself. So he fired his machine gun at some rocks, causing a few pebbles to fly up in the air and scratch him on his arm. He showed his scratch to his commanding officer while holding in his hand some pieces of metal he found lying around on the ground. When his CO asked him what happened, he answered that he got wounded in combat and wanted a purple heart. But his commander was too smart to fall for that puerile trick and told him to get lost. So the sunshinny soldier had to find a gullible higher-up who might believe his incredible story. After finally finding one, he got the gullible higher-up to punch the first of three holes he needed in his early-out ticket. The next hole was punched after he deliberately fired some mortar rounds too close to himself, and the final one after he tripped and fell down. Each tale he told his CO was more incredible than the one before. To this day, however, no other person—not even Tim Russert—has seen the full, uncensored records relating to any of the sunshinny soldiers' stories about his injuries.

Then the sunshinny soldier war criminal visited the domed castle of Wee Dapeople. He spun a tale (under oath) that he saw (but never reported to anyone at the time) his fellow soldiers committing the most atrocious war crimes imaginable. Those, he said, were almost as atrocious as his crimes. The gnomes in attendance listened attentively. They said how awful, and told him to come back anytime if he had any more such stories to tell. He shook the gnomes' hands (but ignored the humans there) and walked next door to the castle's Chamber of Five-Score Bloviators, where he planned to live. But before he could move in, he had to first create some vacancies among the five-score bloviators.

Since he belonged to a militant radical group of violent communists, he asked if they were going to hurry up with their great Assassination of Bloviators Plan because he was really in a hurry to take up residence in the castle. They said they were going to have a roll-call vote. But, as would always be the case with the sunshinny war criminal later on, he never bothered to show up for the vote. Instead, he visited the compound of one of the bloviators, whose heart pumped pure alcohol, and asked him for his help. The bloviator told him that he would help, but only if the sunshinny war criminal worked awhile for the head socialist of his socialist fiefdom. The head socialist, whose name was Duke of Kakis, agreed to let the sunshinny war criminal be his Lieutenant Head Socialist.

However, the sunshinny war criminal became very restless. He promised the fiefdom's subjects the moon and the stars and unprecedented welfare benefits if only they would let him be their bloviator. As others before them, they fell for his tall tales. So the sunshinny war criminal got to move into Wee Dapeople's castle. He was at last one of the five-score bloviators.

For a very, very long time he did nothing inside the castle. So everyone forgot that he was there. Oh, a few times he poked his head out the door, once to say there were no more war criminals like himself being held by his friends in Namland, where he by the way served up all his war crimes. Another time—well, there never was another time, because as a bloviator he accomplished nothing else.

As a marrier, however, he accomplished the task of telling tall tales to rich women so that each of them would want to take him in as her husband. But the first rich woman he married became less rich. So he did not want her anymore and divorced her, sealing his divorce records. To this day, however, no other person—not even Tim Russert—has seen the full, uncensored records relating to any of the sunshinny war criminal's stories about his divorce. He immediately met another rich woman who was the widow of one of the human bloviators. She was very rich so he very much wanted to marry her. Another tall tale led to another wedding for the sunshinny war criminal. He was at last one of the richest of the five-score bloviators.

But being a bloviator who did absolutely nothing all the time became very boring to him. One day, as the sunshinny war criminal was looking at his gold-encrusted monogrammed handkerchief which his rich wife had given to him, he noticed, after scraping off some of the snot also encrusted on it, that his initials were exactly the same as one of the previous bloviators from that fiefdom where he lived with his rich wife. That bloviator had gone on to become chief commander of Wee-Dapeopleland, before being killed by a loner in Lonestarria. The sunshinny war criminal decided then and there that he wanted to follow in that previous bloviator's footsteps, except for the being killed part.

His chance finally came when the head conservative of Lonestarria became chief commander of Wee-Dapeopleland after battling and vanquishing a frothing, dragon-breathed former robo-bloviator. This made the sunshinny war criminal very angry; and he vowed to regimechange the chief commander not only because he vanquished that robo-bloviator but because he hailed from that nonfiefdom where the bloviator in whose footsteps the sunshinny war criminal was following was killed.

First the sunshinny war criminal had to ask his rich wife if she would give him lots of money so he could buy stuff that he needed for regimechanging the chief commander. She said she would, but only if the sunshinny war criminal would tell a tall tale about how he was merely making a loan on his half of her castle. He readily agreed to do this because he did not mind telling tall tales.

All the scalawag scribes and scurrilous scribblers throughout the land volunteered to help the sunshinny war criminal. They wrote scathing screeds about the chief commander, calling him a misser of this and an able of that. They spiked stories showing successes by the chief commander. They scolded him for not apologizing for anything and everything they could imagine would hurt him if he ever did actually apologize for it. This made the sunshinny war criminal very happy because he knew now that they were on his side.

While kissing a baby one day on the regimechanging trail, the sunshinny war criminal got an idea about who he should pick for his viceteller of tall tales. The baby he just kissed needed to have her diapers changed, and this reminded him of his own need to have stuff for regimechanging the chief commander. He also knew that the viceteller of tall tells he had in mind was someone who not only looked very babyish but had done even less in the Chamber of Five-Score Bloviators than the sunshinny war criminal had, which he considered quite an accomplishment in and of itself. He asked his fellow do-nothing bloviator to be his viceteller of tall tales. The plus side would be that the sunshinny war criminal would always have a baby around to kiss on the regimechanging trail. A second plus side was the fact both were tall-tale telling trial lawyers who could pretend or even actually sue each other if they ever got bored with the trail and wanted to have a trial....

At this point Flippin' Flopface heard snores from his little boy Johnny. He patted the sleeping vice-ambulance chaser on the head, untucked him, and turned out the lights before turning them back on.

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