“Press Announcement”
by Peter Russell
An important press announcement from the People’s Revolutionary Worker’s Party and Leon Trotsky Society of North Tenafly, New Jersey
A Call to the Faithful to join striking workers this Saturday at 6:00 pm to picket the Stella D’oro bakery in a glorious demonstration of The People !
Dear Astoundingly Righteous Soldiers for Social Justice:
We are delighted to be able to announce that we have once again need your services to address most important labor issue that we face in our lifetime. And yes, while it may be the third time we have made this declaration about some cause over the past 2 weeks, no one can doubt that THIS cause IS the most significant threat facing OUR revolution, and verily, the entire International Labor movement and Geopolitical stability as a whole;
Breadsticks.
And while we are at it, let us not forget to include the plight of the biscotti, or the cookies….
….. and perhaps saddest of all, the breakfast treats.
Clearly, social justice for baked goods is one of the significant cause of our time, for this much is abundantly clear; how can there be any REAL justice in this world when breakfast treats taste like oppression ?
That is why it is now our sacred duty for each and every one of us to empty our bank accounts and plummet into bankruptcy if need be to protest at Stella D’Oro until victory is won.
And don’t think we’ve forgotten about you either, Nabisco. Do you really think WE wouldn’t find out what you’ve been doing to the ‘Nilla wafers ? And Entemanns ? Your day of reckoning will come too.
We are counting on you, the faithful revolutionary vangard, to work tirelessly to bring us victory.
You are Robin to our Batman. Who else can drive the Batmobile of Social Justice while we, the Caped Crusaders, scale buildings with the help of our Bat-a-Rangs and dispense great clouds of righteous Bat Gas to incapacitate our enemies? And as you know, our clouds of gas are a thing to behold !
This will certainly be a difficult undertaking. And should you find yourselves filled with second thoughts regarding this great cause, take a moment to ask yourself this question;
What will we tell the children ?
For no matter what we ultimately tell them, those suffering in baker’s racks around the world will know the truth.
In sticky, doughy solidarity,
L. Noteduermas
Party Chairman and Senior Defender of Baked Goods
“An Open Letter to Amateur Bigfoot Hunters, Sasquatch Specialists and Armchair Cryptozoology Enthusiasts Everywhere”
By Chris McVetta
A slight hiccup in the recent economy (and my unwavering delusion that I am something more special than my liberal arts degree in Communications had promised me) has given me the time to sit back and soak up all the natural wonders that cable television has to behold.
No, I’m not addicted to Nancy Grace or her shrill shenanigans as she wails on about some hillbilly
“flavor of the month trial” gone horribly wrong. Nor any other show that makes Judge Judy look like some sort of Supreme Court specialist in all things pertaining to:
a.) Deadbeats fighting over an unpaid electric bill, or
b.) Some slack-jawed bumpkin’s Xbox that was stolen from a nearby trailer park, and finally
c.) Any medical procedure gone horribly wrong at the dental center in Super Wal-Mart.
No, ladies and gentlemen, this is an open letter to every man, woman, child, knitting club, and rejected Kiwanis member who feels the need, obligation, or tendency to hunt, track, or capture the often elusive creature known simply as Bigfoot.
What drives these miscreants with their faded overalls and massive Ford F-150 pickup trucks to such delusions of grandeur that they actually think they might catch one of these mythical beasts and contain it in a clear glass jar placed on their mantle like it was Harmony Smurf or some emasculated husband’s testicles on a proverbial shelf?
The lore of Sasquatch is legendary. So of course this isn’t some “country girl next door” you can grab by her hair and drag off to the nearest hoedown or hootenanny like it was Bristol Palin on Dancing with the Stars. Let’s not be childish, we are dealing with a scientific endeavor here.
Yet even in this miraculous world of 21st century technology, all your fancy night goggles and infra-red scanners can be damned, you Penn State eggheads! Go back to your ivory towers (and take your tenure with you) because Billy Bob and Roscoe are going to catch themselves one of them “Bigfeets” the old fashioned way: With a baseball bat, a giant butterfly net and a cooler full of Pabst Blue Ribbon. I reckon.
And you never can ever seem to produce any sort of substantial proof that a Sasquatch actually exists, can you, simple town folk? Sure, in this age of digital cameras and cell phones with better resolution than most Regal Cinemas, you would think that somebody out there with opposable thumbs would be able to capture some sort of snapshot of this sullen creature. But maybe I’m the one being naïve now.
Look, nobody is asking you, Bigfoot hunter, to walk arm-in-arm with your wily wildebeest down to Sears Portrait Studios and take a snapshot with this thing. No one needs you to take a vanilla family portrait of you and this mysterious creature with a tasteful sweater tied around your neck while the two of you wistfully lean up against an in-studio fence draped in front of scenic farmhouse backdrop. Not one person is asking for that.
But would it be possible to get some semblance of photographic evidence of a creature that had Leonard Nimoy asking: “Why did the man dressed in a gorilla costume cross the road?” …all the way back to 1978?
No. All we get from you, the toothless geezer who owns the bait shop in town, is a simple drawing of the creature you etched out on a giant notebook from your art appreciation class at the local community college. What’s the matter? You can sketch it, but you can’t catch it? Just a suggestion, but you might want to stick to something a little more up your alley, like a man admiring a vase or a stationary bowl of fruit, Pops.
And you so-called “research scientists” back in your laboratories are no better off, I must tell you. Oh sure, you’re the first ones Animal Planet goes running to when they need someone (other than the village idiot) to authenticate some actual evidence of a Sasquatch. But what does all your expertise really tell us in the end, other than you can decipher the difference between Bigfoot droppings and antelope excrement with a single whiff?
And your silly little Professor Science antics don’t stop there! When hard pressed to offer up any other evidence of a Bigfoot, where do you always turn to for a scientific safety net? Why, the single plaster footprint of Sasquatch, of course! And, more importantly, why is there always just the ONE plaster footprint, eh?
Your crack staff of trackers and educated outdoorsmen from the Institute couldn’t summon up the wherewithal to get a complete set of TWO? Quite frankly, I’ve seen more thorough investigating on an episode of Scooby-Doo.
What kind of vertical leap does this creature have that you can only obtain ONE stinking footprint? Are we now on the hunt for Kobe Bryant, you Monster Quest morons?
Finally, all you weekend Bigfoot enthusiasts (or, at least until the NBA season begins, right?), I will leave you with this,: Why, on all your vaunted expeditions that expand no further than 5 miles outside of your little home town of Nowheresville, USA, do you never seem to search for Sasquatch anywhere outside of the Pacific Northwest?
Yes, yes, I know! It says right on page 42 of Finding Bigfoot for Dummies that this fabled creature is indigenous to the Pacific Northwest region. But outside of the fact that this “missing link” might have an unnatural craving for Starbucks coffee and Seattle grunge rock, would it kill you folks to think outside of the box once in a while?
Maybe the reason all these Bigfoot experts, trackers and hunters have never found this furry fellow is because he is hiding in plain sight. Did The Discovery Channel ever think to check Murray’s Deli in lower Manhattan during a busy lunch hour crowd?
No, of course not (because that would be crazy). And that’s why, like a grown man who owns his own comic book store looking for someone to claim his virginity, the search for Bigfoot goes on and on…
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