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Rush Limbaugh takes one last puff of his expensive cigar and tosses it
aside. It smolders away into oblivion, all by it’s lonesome, while a
stray cat watches the drama unfold from it’s perch atop a trash can. “I
hold here in my formerly nicotine-stained fingertips a copy of all the
nominees for this year’s Oscars,” Limabaugh blusters away, holding up the
document. “And I can’t help but notice that you’re not listed, Mr.
Moore.” Michael Moore takes one last puff from his joint and then discards it wastefully, like most people treated his film Fahrenheit 9/11. “And I hold here in my formerly THC-stained fingertips a copy of the...thingy thing...something....WE ARE AGAINST THIS WAR, MR BUSH! SHAME ON YOU!” (There’s nothing in his hands now) Josh interprets this portion of the debate by borrowing a few moves from the ancient Swahili Ostrich-Dance of the Central African Savannahs. It’s an unimpressive attempt.“When are you Libs going to admit that you hate this country and you hate what it stands for!?” Limbaugh admonishes the overweight socialist scumbag. “When are you going to wake up and realize that you aren’t running the show anymore!?” Moore glowers ruefully. “Maybe you should pop another OxyContin,” he fires back.Josh interprets this by imagining himself a swam. He prances about with slow, graceful strides. He bemoans Moore’s plight with a soulful cry of, “Goobak ark melork!”
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1/25/2005 8:43:44 PM
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