Are You Undecided Voter Focus Group Material?

Undecided voters, you might be the perfect candidate for Frank Luntz's Presidential Debate focus group.
 

Dear Mr. Luntz--

As an undecided voter, I find that my dog and cat have many differences that I think could be resolved by a government committee that would give me lots of money to have them both shaved and surgically altered to eliminate all differences between them. Do you know if either candidate has evolved a position on this subject? The cat is a tabby and the dog is a St Bernard.

--I. Betinov
 

Komrades-- For our Collective Goals, the greatest danger is that these "undecided" voters will become "unvoters" thereby decreasing the percentage of such voters casting ballots and also thereby strengthening the chances that our bete noires (Romney/Ryan) will win on November 6, 2012 leaving our Leader ousted in 2012.

--KOOK
 

Superkommissar Maksim, I think you know why I'm here.



And for your mother, though I hope she still has room for an Obama/Biden 2012 sticker:



A car covered with Beet of the Week bumperstickers never gets keyed!
 

I have heard that the "undecided"/uncast votes are to be counted as votes for The One-And-Only-One-Plus-Or-Minus-Biden since we know because we have been told that if they had or would decide or vote they would decide or vote for The One-And-Only-One-Plus-Or-Minus-Biden. Add in the dead absentees and illegals undocumented it will be a landslide! Forward!
 

Superkommissar Maksim,


Thank you for posting brilliantly (as expected), what I was thinking while watching Luntz's staggering display of human stupidity. An amazing array of absolutely dense, out-of-touch, touchy-feely cretins. I hate to call them that, I really do. But, I have no other words. Seriously. This scares me.
 

Comrades. Fence-sitting is a display of enlightenment, not ignorance. It demonstrates ones ability to not be influenced by impure thoughts like principles.

 

 

Hey! You found the squirrel that escaped from Uncle Joe's head!
 

 

El Presidente,

U are now my BFF!
I have squirrels who visited me every day, begging for food. Yeah, I give peanuts and cranberries to them but have experienced their abandonment of me as their provider at a moments notice. I'm not kidding. Haven't seen them for months.

Now, they're back, peering into my window. They know where I live.

Not sure what this means but, just sayin'
 

Pamalinsky

Not sure what this means but, just sayin'
The progressive squirrels for which you speak are members of Occupy Wall Street, Pamalinsky.
 

I'm undecided 'cause I want one of those strap on TVs!
 

Undecided Voters!

Your Day Of Action is November 7! Yes, November 7 is The Day That You Can Make Your Wants - Needs - Desires - known to Our Dear Leader! Wanna new cellphone? A brand new 1978 Cadillac? Free rent? Free food? Will, just give Dear Leader a call...
 

Ya just gotta love grouchy ol' Unkulturny. XX!OO! Love ya! Honey!
 

I now know the secret to Maxim's genius, he graphically represents what everyone is thinking but has not yet put into words. The scary part is Mr. Luntz' focus groups may truly represent the American population. The End Is Near.


 

Hey People's Comrade,
I know what you mean. I truly do. I can only hope I'm wrong. So wrong!From where I am in Indiana, it looks fairly good. In some ways, very good.Still, I have a hard time sleeping peacefully most nights.That's just the way it is.
 

Comrade Pamalinsky, you need not worry! According to an article I just read, Dear Leader's minions helpers are in full swing helping people register to vote illegally as they should! And that's just the living ones - apparently there are thousands and thousands of dead people still on the register, and with that Spanish company with ties to George Soros counting the votes - well, let's just say it's a done deal, shall we?
 

Gosh, ROCK, I feel so much better now! Hey, thanks!
p.s. I knew about the Soros company. heh, heh.I also know someone who played chess with him.I also realize this means nothing.
 

This morning I sat on the toilet for an hour because I forgot what to do next. Do I require a lobotomy?
 

Madfoxx,
Perhaps you should consider a simple, over-the-counter stool softener.
Otherwise, you may want to contact Father Prog Theocritus for a thorough lobotomy.
He's the best! His company name is "Jifi-Lobo™" You'll get the best service from him!
He really enjoys accommodating new progs. Trust me on this. His services are there for the asking.
 

That's right, Pamalinski. Comrade Theo's services are there for the asking, but you still need to drive out to his rancho .... clinic in West Texas.... 130 miles past the middle of nowhere.

Krasnodar offers " Concierge Lobotomies ".... done in the comfort of your home kitchen, bathroom, garage or anywhere else that doesn't have carpet.

And being health- conscious, I rinse my spoon off after every procedure.

Gotta' " two - fer " special coming up on November 1st.

Bring a friend and it's free !
 

Krasnodar

...And being health- conscious, I rinse my spoon off after every procedure.

Well, he does take it into the men's room with him. I do hope he rinses it in the sink.


That being the same spoon he uses for mixing drinks, be sure to ask for Krasno's happy-hour special: drinks and lobotomies at the same place, at the same time! (don't ask for the lap dance until the lobotomy is over, its just a waste of rubles because of the anesthesia)

Home-made beet vodka seems to do something special when its used to sterilize surgical instruments and/or its poured straight into the open cranium...
 

Commissarka Pinkie

Superkommissar Maksim, I think you know why I'm here.


 

Here's what one other focus group person said:

"I'm just happy that the election could be decided by me! And I LOVE Mr. Luntz's beautiful thick and natural hair!"
 

All right, Krasnodar, it's pistols at dawn. How on earth can you offer concierge lobotomies? Not only are you cutting in on my racket but also you display your ignorance of the real world. Which is of course interpreted by the Current Truth™ that we pull every morning out of asses after we put on our superheterodyne tin-foil hats and listen to the Current Truth™ from Laika, or from Chris Matthews.

Now there's a whack-job, but he's our whack-job. I mean, that elevator doesn't get above his ankle bone. But he's our wank-job.

Of course you shall pay for cutting into my racketcarefully planned community service of harmonizing people's interactions. Because we all Made Progs know, anything that you say which I disagree with is wrong; anything that I say is right, de natura if not the slightest bit de facto.

And in fact, since we're in in camera and since I'm being a complete and total dickwad, I'll reveal one more Really True Truth: a correct lie beats incorrect truth any day of the week.

Now bear in mind that Mr. Luntz' pollees do indeed represent a cross-section of America. Except not quite enough.

My current project, after Jiffy-Lobo, TransSiberian Railways, and my Fair Trade Impaling Spikes, so you know the prole just can't come back™, is to put the normal casket makers out of business.

Now, I know that no caskets are needed when I impale someone. Nor is a casket needed when someone turns white, dies of nervous shock, and shrivels into a little tiny turd-seeming pellet from listening to Bruno do "Tico Tico." But I am breeding the New Prole.

The New Prole, and I call on all talented artists to help, is the prole who always has his hand out.

The Gimme Prole. A man who cannot hold a baby--which will be in government day care anyway so that it can become a good member of the Youth Movement--because one hand is always out.

We shall have to set up hospitals for the C-sections of these babies from the sturdy brood mares of the Proletariat; after all, no normal woman could birth a baby with its hand out, as though its skeleton had hardened. But under no conditions can that child be mended. After all, there are only two positions for the true comrade:

On its face while worshiping The One, outstretched arm to the side or in a hole, or with arm outright.

So we must make caskets which can bury people standing up with an arm outstretched, for all the money which we can take from those who can to give to those who won't.
 

Father Prog: Hee, hee, hee! (guffaw)
 

Pistols at dawn... that's funny, especially since Krasno doesn't get up before the crack of noon!
 

Ha! I think we know the outcome here, don't we Tovi?
 

Pamalinsky.... how much is Theocritus paying you for your shameless endorsements ?

I, Krasndar, only work on one voter..... patient at a time. Small potatoes.

In comparison, have you seen Vlad Theo's Clinic ?



Take a look.... lots of operating rooms to choose from. He's not hurting for business.


How else do you think he makes those payments on his most- equal Caddy convertible ?

 

Outcome ? You two know the outcome ?

I'll tell you what the outcome will be .....

At this duel, Theo and myself will walk our ten paces, and then turn to shoot .

At that precise moment , I press a button instead.......




That's the outcome, kids. Just like the good 'ol days back in the Mother Country.
 

I, too see the outcome, my darling Kraz.Not sure this will happen, though. Really.
 

P-Sky, If it does, you bring chips, I'll bring lawn chairs and a bottle...
 

Krasnodar, Kraaasnodar, dear Kraaaaaasnodar, I am heart-broken at your intransigence. You see, the problem is that I've had a lot more experience than you at putting my size 12EEE dogs on the necks and even heads of aspiring comrades.

Why, just today Barack, Lord Obozo started preparations for throwing Our Many Titted Empress under the bus. [off and this is better than Viagra, folks ]

Krasnodar, I have such hope for you, and I do not hold this slight insurrection against you. After all, I'm Father Prog Theocritus, and I have generations of talent of stepping on the necks and heads of others. Then I impale them. So I do not worry about your footling uprising. Hell, it's nothing compared to the uprising that Chris Matthews gets every time there's a tingle running up and down his leg, and believe me: I have talked to PissInSecrecy.com--they handle catheters, urine bags and have splashed out into colostomy products, at the urging of Nanski Peloski, who with one more facelift will need one for she will have a cloaca like a platypus.

PissInSecrecy.com tells me that Chris has written them enthusiastic letters about his ability to translate the tingle in his leg to an honest-to-Stalin 2" stiffie, all with a catheter so he won't have to leave his chair at MSNBC to pee! It's like Cartman's mother holding a bucket for his turds. Well, Chris is there, day and night, even with the studio lights off, drinking mineral water, eating chopped vegetables, and pissing through a tube stuck through his Vienna sausage, which always at full staff for Barack Lord Odimbo.
 

But I do love the Government Motors car, and the red star. But please: take a snapshot of when I'm not incognito. I merit four red stars, you know: when's the last time you saw a blind man selling pencils? That's right. I have cornered the pencil market. That proves that I'm Father Prog.

Also I'm helping David Axelrod with the unfortunate problem of Libya. Oh hell why couldn't our Friends the Mooslims just have fire-bombed the whole place in the middle of the night, the MSM would have ignored it, and Barack, Lord Obozo would have made Chris Stevens an unperson. Along with the two Navy SEALS, who, being servicemen, were lower than whale shit. And a fourth man but because he's American he doesn't matter either. He just doesn't matter as little as a well-respected ambassador and two Navy SEALS.

My problem though is that while I was coaching Mr. Alexrod, he twitched his noseand the doors burst open. Storm troopers came in and secured the room, and two men in white lab coats came and grabbed him.

"Mr. Alexrod, we've been looking for you for so long. Where have you been? When we gave a specimen of rattus rattus that combination of HGH and a distillation of the extracted fat cells from the steatopygous tissue of Mrs. Clinton, we had no idea that you would grow as fast as you did.

"It's time for you to come home."

And with that, one gave Axelroad a hypodermic, and he slumped to the floor. The storm troopers then carried him out, and put him in a cage on wheels in the hall.

"There, there, Mr. Alexrod," one of the technicians said. Don't worry. You'll soon be back to doing walkies on your little circular wheel and thank god you twitched your lips or we wouldn't have recognized you. Well, and those little beady eyes. And come to think of it all that chewed scenery. But that's okay, Mr. Axelrod. Soon you'll back on your regular diet of blood and vulture vomit."
 

By the way, Dear Krasnodar, there will be no duel. You're dead. It just hasn't reached your brain. Which is why I am so very sad, dear Krasnodar. You had such promise as a top-drawer, first-leage, world-class mindless bastard.

You just don't know you're dead yet. Like our Many Titted Empress. Who was seen the underside of more busses than a Greyhound mechanic. And one more. Oh. How I FEEL for her.
 

Well, if I'm dead, I can still cast my vote for Dear Leader !

That's all that matters, isn't it ?
 

Krasnodar, dear sweet cranky Krasnodar, if you die you can of course vote. Or rather I shall vote for you and because I so esteem you in the Party, I know how you will vote. You see, I am the NecroProxy Voter Godfather. Er, registrar of votes. So I shall cast your vote for you. Just the way that you would like it, of course. Where do you think that "Father Prog" shit comes from? It's my freaking compassion and understanding, Bush-wit.

You may rest (ha!) assured that you will be well remembered. You will have your own afterlife; you will vote again and again and again, and sometimes four or oh hell let's be realistic 30 times in each election. I have the old mayor of New Orleans to help me, er, us, er, you do that. Mayor Marc Morial. Yes, he had all those people shuffling from poll to poll on a bus.

Which was good practice for the mayor's cops looting Cadillac dealerships while Katrina was coming in.

Oh dear. Have I been giving away things? Surely not things of value.

Take care, Dear K. I sense in you the ability to be just as big a mindless bastard as I am.

-------------

Bruno! Bruno! Can you believe this shit? That jackass Krasnodar thinks he's going mano-a-mano with me. He's a proglet, Bruno.

"I know, Theocritus, I've seen his avatar. Those TEETH. And that guitar, or spoon, or whatever it is. I just don't trust those...teeth. I know that Krasnodar is a dear commissar, with a bullseye on his back, but I still keep thinking of those teeth...

"And Joe Biden. The smirking, Theocritus, the smirking.

"And THAT'S WHERE MY DEMITASSE SPOON WENT.

"Invite him out to the Rancho, Theocritus. Please. You can cancel my Victoria's Secret charge card. I want to 'splain some things to Mr. K. I'll sing 'Tico Tico' to him until his ears bleed, and I've been speaking German to do it faster. Making his ears bleed, that is. Or I could do my best Nanski Peloski imitation. You know, like the Skexsis in that dark crystal thing. Pterodactyls, ratites, crows, and, oh god, Theocritus, I have learned how to speak grackle!"

Since I'd heard the most magnificent list of non sequiturs ever heard, I shot Bruno.
 

This morning I heard our dear Many Titted Empress jump under the bus herself. How noble of her, but then she is THE Hillary. The most intelligent person on earth. The most sensible person in the world, that is, until Barack, Lord Obama. Who is so magnificent that the sum of human knowledge started at his birth.

For we all know that there is nothing outside the sphere of human knowledge that is worth knowing unless Lord O thought of it first. For it was first in His Mind, and He sent it out to the world, which did not appreciate it as much as it should.

This would have included the Big Bang except that we have made a slight Clintonian exception.

Not, however, for our dear MTE. Because she's looking up at the tailpipe of the bus right now.

[ Hahahahahahahaha. Hahahahahahaha. I'd feel sorry for that totalitarian bitch but she's the Hildebeest and I hope that it hurts as much as the hurt she'd inflicted on others. Nothing would please me more than a cage match between the Obama criminal machine and the Clinton criminal machine, and the world gets to shoot the survivor.]
 

Theo,
I'd be delighted to come out and visit The Rancho, but I'll only do so if you promise to have your Port-A-Potty "serviced " first. I mean, last July....... those flies.... oh man !!!!!
It was worse than a DNC strategy meeting.



Give Bruno my regards ( My teeth, huh......the little weasel... )
I'd give him a lobotomy... Gratis .... but there's just nothing else left to work with.
His skull's cleaned out like a Halloween pumpkin !

Oh... ask Pamalinski and Tovarichi to come out there as well. She can play us some of her favorite 45's, and Mr.T can bring a few cases of Lone Star.

Krasnodar,
Vagabond of the Outer Parts
People's Minister of Spirits Distribution & Tractor Maintenance
 

Krasnodar, I see you found one of my moonbats. They are my own special breed of moonbats, you know: the normal moonbat from time to time will turn a corner and see a touch of reality. I toughen them up until it's impossible for them to see reality. After all, I learned a trick from Barry Lord O: enough arrogance is indistinguishable from stupidity.

Also, please, Dear Comrade K, never forget that Bruno has already had as much Jiffy-Lobo™ as can be had. In fact he is the reason for the latest three upgrades to the service. At first, it was just swish the scalpel around in the prefrontal lobes. But that didn't do it because he has few. Have you ever seen his forehead? Like a cat's. From the brow ridge it's a 45-degree slant up to the low hair line. I have to shave his brow, or am forced to to avoid the whining, before he puts on a Carmen Miranda wig.

His forehead has caved in from all the Jiffy-Lobo. In fact I pioneered things for him. You know those immersion blenders that you see in kitchens and cooking shows?

I invented them for Bruno's brain.

You know those 1500W microwave ovens? Yup, my invention. I beefed up the normal magnetron and channeled all the energy into a tube which went directly into his temple. Zap. Zap. I cooked an egg on his head but it didn't stop Bruno from being Bruno.

And here's the amazing thing. When I have only a couple of more brain-stupefying inventions, then I can have Bruno to the point of irrationality so that he can hold his own with Nanski Peloski. So far she's always been more out of touch than he has, even when he's on 6" platform wedges, with 2' of fruit on his head, and dancing a samba. All 6'4" of him.
 

Do you still take Bruno out for rides in the Caddie ? I still think that keeping him in the trunk is the best way to go .... the sound insulation muffles down that high-pitched whine of his. Another benefit is not having to explain him to strangers every time you go into town.
 

Oh, that's easy, Krasnodar. I had a saddle made for Bruno, and I had it covered with the very finest faux cubic zirconium, and that's just about as fake as it can get. But it glitters, oh how it glitters.

Also I made up a shipping carton that was blue, and had the word Tifanys on it, and he didn't get the misspelling, nor the fact that it was a U-Haul moving carton covered with blue construction paper. All he saw was the glitter and he's down for it.

Literally down for it. (Shut up.) Whenever he starts bouncing off the walls, I get out the saddle, whistle, and yell, "Bruno! Walkies! Walkies!" and he comes over, gets on all fours, I saddle him, and put a bit in his teeth and we ride around the Rancho.

A weak mind and a strong back are a terrible thing to waste.
 

Undecided voter? Isn't that an oxymoron?

Any adult with half a brain would know the only choice is the "One". (PBUH)



 

Sounds like Bruno's the Quasimodo of West Texas.
Maybe you could ride him in a Christmas ... Winter Solstice parade in Pecos or Del Rio.
Just be sure to muzzle him so he won't howl and scare off. Santa Claus
 

Hey, Kraz,

For the record, Father Prog never paid me a thing for anything! Are you kidding me? He's cheap!

Thing is, he is ubiquitous! That's something we all have to realize at one time or another. It's inescapable! And irrefutable!

Capiche?
 

Krasnodar, please heed dear Pamalinski. Now I treasure her as another mindless-bastard prog, but since I'm the most mindless bastard of mindless bastard progs, so bloody minded that an abattoir would run shrieking into the night, I don't pay anyone anything. And if you've a long memory, you recall that Meow accused me of stealing his Hummels. I professed to have paid for them.

I stole them and didn't pay. This is like Bill Ayers' statement, "Guilty as sin, free as a bird, what a wonderful country."

So, no, K, I don't pay Pam, and I won't pay you. But if you pay ME, you can avoid the waffle marks of my size 12EEE shoes on your neck.

Sometimes I wear cleats. They're baby impaling stakes, when you just don't have time for the full banquet with impalings, like Vlad Tepes.

So heed Pamalinski. I think that her scars are mostly healed by now.
 

Actually when I take Bruno out for a gallop and bring him back, I do have to unsaddle him, and curry him. You know, you don't want a queen rode hard and put up wet, as we say here in West Texas.

Also I'm stuffing a couch meant for horsehair with what falls off Bruno. His back in particular.

Before he found Carmen Miranda, he tried to do that Marilyn Monroe pose with the skirt up in the air. Didn't work. Looked like two 4' bottle brushes in a skirt.
 

Theo....
Not to be a buzz-kill or anything like that, but if you take a good look at my avatar, you'll see that I have no neck ! Guess you'll just have to step on my head instead.
( But don't you dare mess-up my shoes !)
 

So THAT'S where Bruno's sling-back Chanel pumps went.

I'll be sure to tell him.
 

Has Bruno got your tongue, K? Huh? Huh? After all, I'd be shaking and white if Bruno thought that I had his sling-back Chanel pumps. You know, the ones which scream do violence to me sailor.
 

I can't decide whether I'm decided or not. What are the issues? Who are the candidates? Is there a thin one with a round letter in his name and a thick one with a y in his name? I'm confused. Please repeat the instructions:

 

Abecadarius Rex,

That is way too deep for me. Waaaaay too deep. (Don't be fooled by my excellent spelling)
 

Father Prog Theocritus

So heed Pamalinski. I think that her scars are mostly healed by now.Hell yeah, my scars are most healed! After just two Jifi-Lobos™ I look 20 years younger than I am. All the vapidity is gone now. Amazing! I do need frequent visits to keep this look intact. Small price to pay!


My husband loves me more than ever! He always wanted a Barbie girl. Makes him look, by way of contrast, like a King! Just like Obama!


Jifi-Lobo™ rules!


Jeesh, what ya want from me, Kraz?
 

Pamalinski, there's something weird going on here. Krasnodar is being difficult. Now for a prog, that's okay but I'm a Made Prog and so ought to be kowtowed to, and I very much hope that Krasnodar doesn't know just how big my feet of clay are.

Also why is our local docent, Rex, showing up? He's been quiet recently, and this is worrisome. Every time that one of my dear comrade friends is quiet I know that he might be planning something. At first when I was a young prog, I spent my time stealing from others, but as a made prog, I realize that proggery is really a Ponzi scheme. You can steal from the masses if you want but it's best to steal from the other progs.

Dillinger was asked why he robbed banks. "That's where the money is."

After a successful prog takeover of a nation (and we're doing fine, with household income down 8% in four years), the peasants have nothing left to steal. So where to go?

To those with the most.

I wonder where Meow Punchenko is right now. I wonder. Odd that he hasn't shown up, isn't it? Wonder if he can show up. If he does I'll be glad to show him some Hummels that I just acquired.

BTW, if Meow shows up, go rent some John Carpenter movies.
 

Father Prog Theocritus

Pamalinski, there's something weird going on here. Krasnodar is being difficult. Now for a prog, that's okay but I'm a Made Prog and so ought to be kowtowed to, and I very much hope that Krasnodar doesn't know just how big my feet of clay are.
I know they're big enough to set off one of my Claymores.

Watch your step.
 

If you think my feet are big, you ought to see Bruno's. Now I know that he has always wanted petite feet--like Blanche du Bois, er, Blanche Devereaux--but it ain't gonna happen.

So I invited Lord O down to the Rancho. The Manso. Now talk about dogs. I mean of course Moochelle's, because she has his nuts, and brain, in a lockbox. The problem is that all we hear is the TOTUS and what Moochelle says, and since it's mostly about us eating carrots while she eats lobster.

The lobster however is a close cousin of the cockroach. Would that for Moochelle be cannibalism?
 

Well, Father Prog, Moochelle, according to some definitions, being a crustacean lover herself, i.e. a bottom feeder, might prefer lobster over curly fries, for the greater bad, just so her hubby can be re-elected. :•}Cockroach cousin? Yeah, I can see it. What more is there to say?
 

Ahhh, shouldn't we be calling undecideds by their proper name?




 

I was going to be on that show but could not decide if I wanted to go.
I did make a decision as to my vote. I will remain undecided. I may change my mind on that.
Decisions have repercussions.
Especially with the Collective and the 'One'.
(I know I placed my shovel somewhere)
 

My mind is made up. I'm definitely going to vote for --- SQUIRREL!
 

Dig4Utopia

Ahhh, shouldn't we be calling undecideds by their proper name?

28iz4na.jpg

Most equal Dig! Most equal!
 

Many Undecideds have very insightful questions. Among them is, Who is the president and when was he or she elected?
How long will he or she be in Office before the die or or replaced?
Was he or she anointed or appointed or both?
One in particular brought applause. Why do we have to do this Nov 6. I have places to go can't we delay this until I get back?
 

™

Guardian of Pravda

Many Undecideds have very insightful questions. Among them is, Who is the president and when was he or she elected?
How long will he or she be in Office before the die or or replaced?
Was he or she anointed or appointed or both?
One in particular brought applause. Why do we have to do this Nov 6. I have places to go can't we delay this until I get back?
I truly feel for their intense suffrage. These questions indicate a suffrage like no other suffrage. Hopefully their suffrage will be alleviated by Next Tuesday ™
 

AbecedariusRex

™

Guardian of Pravda

Many Undecideds have very insightful questions. Among them is, Who is the president and when was he or she elected?
How long will he or she be in Office before the die or or replaced?
Was he or she anointed or appointed or both?
One in particular brought applause. Why do we have to do this Nov 6. I have places to go can't we delay this until I get back?
I truly feel for their intense suffrage. These questions indicate a suffrage like no other suffrage. Hopefully their suffrage will be alleviated by Next Tuesday ™

I do not think they are decided on this. Many are trying to decide if the Calendar is accurate.
Ah well in the soup mix of the masses some are lost.