At 3 in the afternoon of March 8, 2013, a somewhat rowdy lowlife male in his early 30s named Henry stands in front of a downtown ‘club’ in Montpelier, Vermont, smoking a non-filtered Camel and harassing various women as they walk by.

Henry:  “Hey, babie, wanna have a beer with me!?”

The women do not make eye contact and proceed on their ways, shaking their heads.

Henry:  “Fuckin’ bitches.  Man, I only wannna…” THUNK!!  Henry is struck in the head by a Steel Hankie.

“Hey, what the fuckin’ Hell…”

“Language please,”  says PolitenessMan, walking towards Henry.

“Who the fuck are you, man!”  howls Henry.  And howls even louder when yet another Steel Hankie strikes him in the chest.

“Jesus, man!  That hurts!”

“It is meant to hurt, Henry.  It is the Steel Hankie of Politeness, and I, sir, am PolitenessMan.”

“Hey, how’s come you know my name, buddy?”  asks Henry, somewhat bewildered.

“Henry, I am PolitenessMan, and it my business to know the names of all manner of people who need lessons in good manners,”  PolitenessMan explains.  “Do you know what day today is, Henry?”

“Well…yeah.  It’s Friday.  So what…PolitenessMan, you said?”

“Yes.  And today, Henry, this fine Friday all over the World, it is International Women’s Day.  A day we celebrate, and pay our respects to all women for their struggles to fight and overcome oppressions, their glorious achievements in the arts and sciences, their work to relieve mankind’s suffering, and their nurturing of generations to come.  Do you have a mother, Henry?”

“Well, yeah, PolitenessMan.  She lives over ta Hardwick.  So today is something like Mother’s Day?”

“Much more than that, Henry,” answers PolitenessMan.  “Today, International Women’s Day, is the day all men must treat all women with honor, deference, and, above all good manners.  Yelling Hey Babie, Henry, is taboo on this day.  It would be like yelling FIRE at the 4th of July Parade.”

“Shit, Politeness…”

“Language, Henry.”

“…er, yeah, sorry.  Gee, PolitenessMan, I didn’t know about this International Women’s Day stuff.  I guess you must think I’m a dork.”

“Not a word I would use, Henry” PolitenessMan replies.  “But I think all those ladies you were trying to impress probably will use that word in their descriptive lexicon of their encounters with you today.”

“Shi…I mean, gosh, PolitenessMan.  I feel like a real dink now.  Is there anything I can do with myself to make women not think I’m a dip?”

“Do you have a job, Henry?” asks PolitenessMan.

“Well…I do a little of this and that.”

“This and that is something that ladies avoid, Henry.  Have you tried applying to the State?  I just had a long politically correct talk over cognac with Governor Shumlin last night.  He said he plans to hire a new assistant press secretary.”

“Hey, I could do that, PolitenessMan.  I’ve even got all these computer skills.  I’m on chat-rooms all the time.”

“Well then,” says PolitenessMan.  “That settles that.  But with your new job, there are other things you need to do, Henry.”

“Tell me, PolitenessMan.  I want to learn how to be a gentleman, like you.”

“All right, Henry.  And PolitenessMan points to a woman getting ready to cross the street towards them.  “You see this attractive lady approaching, Henry?  I want you to smile ever so slightly at her and say: ‘Happy International Women’s Day, Ma’m.’  And be sincere.”

“Okay.”  And Henry does it, and, lo and behold, the woman smiles back and thanks him.

“Wow, PolitenessMan!  What a rush!  This being a gentleman on International Women’s Day is better than Thunder Road!  What else do I need to do?”

“Well, Henry, I take it you drink from time to time, socially?”

“Well yeah.  You know, a Bud and a shot of Jack.”

“No, no, no, no, Henry.  You must refine your comportment.  Starting with your drinking habits.  As I said, the Governor and I got some things settled over cognac last night.  Not once did I have to use my Steel Hankie on him.  So, Henry, from now on, you will drink only cognac and single malt scotches.  And martinis, Henry.  With a twist of lemon.  Or also with an olive that you can offer to the lady in the seat adjacent to you in your favorite cocktail lounge.”

“That’s this place right here,” says Henry.  “And I can get all that stuff here.  I seen this old dude with a cane drinking that stuff.”

“Ah, that would be my associate, Peter.  You know, he was once a rude ruffian like yourself, Henry?”

“No kiddin’, PolitenessMan?  So there’s hope for me, huh?”

“Of course, Henry.  And along with your new classy State job and your classy cocktails, I highly recommend a new wardrobe.  The jeans and leather biker boots will have to go anyway, once you’re working for Governor Shumlin.  I would say, after a shave and haircut, you might head up to the Mall for some dress slacks and shirts, some sport coats and ties, and some dress shoes, perhaps a pair for this summer, with tassels.  And perhaps, an ascot or two, and a fedora and a beret.  That will go well with your new classy name.”

“My new name, PolitenessMan?”

“Not really new, Henry.  Just the pronunciation.  Can you say Hen…ri?

“Oh yeah!  Like the French guy.  Right, PolitenessMan?”

“Exactly,” says PolitenessMan, who is beaming now at Henry’s…excuse me, Hen…ri‘s new demeanor.  “Also, one more thing, Henri.”

“What’s that, PolitenessMan?”

“Can you have that tattoo removed?  DETOX THE VEGANS is in bad taste.  As so many ladies have now adopted healthy foods and are making our entire society healthier by example.”

“You got it, PolitenessMan.  Gee, I’m sure glad I was out here having a cigarette when you came by.  I feel like a whole new dude.”

“And that’s another thing, Henri,” says PolitenessMan, pointing at Henri’s cigarette.  “Cigarettes, Henri.  They are…how shall I say it?…gauche.  I think you’d look really good sporting a pipe in all your new attire and outlook.”

“But, PolitenessMan, that dude with the cane, Peter, he smokes butts.”

“Ah. Henri,” PolitenessMan sighs, “Peter still walks, or limps, I should say, to some different drums.  He hears voices too, and talks out loud to himself.  Still some bad habits there.”

“Yeah, PolitenessMan.  I wouldn’t talk out loud to myself.  Why…a Lady might take offense.”

“I believe, as Henry Higgins put it, you’ve got it, Henri!”

“Okay, PolitenessMan, I’m gonna head out to the barber shop now.  And then go to the Mall.  And tomorrow, I’ll make an appointment with Governor Shumlin.  I feel like a new man!”

“And remember, Henri, when you see the Governor, do use my name as a reference.  He owes me a few favors from 2010.  With a nose like that, I had quite a task that Fall.  I hope he took my advice about International Women’s Day.”

“What was that, PolitenessMan?”

“Just that, Henri, he should invite a coalition of Vermont women to redo the budget.  It would be in good taste and good manners on this day that he acknowledge, like all of us males, his failings.  And let women fix things.  You see, we’re really quite lucky being men, Henri.”

“Quite,” says Henri.

“I’ll let you go now, sir.  Enjoy your new life, Henri.”

“Thanks, PolitenessMan.  Boy, after I get all these chores done today and tomorrow, I’m gonna have me a couple of those cognacs and practice being polite to women in the bar here.  I can’t wait to use my new manners.  See ya, PolitenessMan.”

And Henri walks off.

PolitenessMan then turns to address us all:

“On this day, International Women’s Day, we should all be thankful that women exist.  They give us good manners, good clothes, good food and drink, and a healthy attitude about decorum and the finer things in life.  Remember, without women, there would be no reason for any of us men to wear hats.  For whom would we have to tip them to?  And with that, Ladies, on this, your day, I tip my hat to all of you.  And hope no more Steel Hankies will rain on your day.  Adieu.”

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

It’s a simple operation

An outpatient operation

You won’t need an anesthetic

You’re not covered for that anyway

We’ll give you some pills afterwards

Because you’ll be in some pain

But the pain should pass and if it doesn’t

Call us  We have another procedure for that

Yes we have performed this operation

Repeatedly  There are many cases

Out there walking around leading

Perfectly almost lives

We’re just going to cut out

A piece of you here and a piece of you

There  Nothing you can’t do without

After a while you’ll learn to adapt

It all depends on your attitude

And following our program carefully

Because after all we’re your doctors

And we know what’s best here

We know what you need and what we need

And what we need now is for you

To strip and lie face down over here

And count to a trillion backwards

And it will all be over

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.  

Scanning the Yahoo news this morning, I saw this story about a 117 MILLION dollar home recently sold in California, supposedly the most expensive home in the country (or the world?).  Sick RICH fuckos.  No wonder the Rich are opposed to Mental Health Care.



PETEY SWEETY’S 10.5 BILLION Dollar Dream Home

My Dream Home will have 20 bedrooms and 35 bathrooms and restrooms, its own indoor pool and indoor sauna and sweat lodge, and its own indoor baseball field.  My Dream Home will have its own indoor nightclub–a real bar, with a bartender, a band, and a dance floor.  It will have its own indoor woods, so I won’t have to worry about a view.  Also, an indoor shopping mall where I can buy lots of shit, and then return it.  But the indoor mall will be closed on Sundays, so my Dream Home will also have an indoor corner store where I can go for the Sunday Times and coffee.  My Dream Home will also have an indoor ‘red light’ district where ladies of the night can gather, after my indoor nightclub closes.  And also an indoor street corner where I can buy drugs.  And another indoor street corner where I can hang out with my very own indoor homeless people.  My Dream Home will have its own indoor Public Library, where the ladies of the night will have their day jobs.  I will have my own indoor public bus service and indoor taxi service to drive me to my various indoor venues.  Of course, my Dream Home will have at least 3 indoor restaurants, two of which will be upscale.  I will have real animals in my indoor woods, and I can go indoor hunting.  And an indoor trout stream, and a very large indoor lake where I can fish and swim and boat and maybe spot the Loch Ness Monster from my indoor yacht.  My Dream Home will have its own indoor weather, which I can adjust by remote control.  And its own indoor Police Force.  There will be an indoor junior high school and an indoor schoolyard where I can lurk if the mood strikes me.  My Dream Home will have its own indoor Municipal Building and government, and an indoor municipal front lawn large enough to hold vigils and rallies against my very own indoor WAR going on in the East Wing.  Of course, because of my indoor WAR, my Dream Home will have its own indoor hospital and mortuary.  Also an indoor cemetery.  My Dream Home will have a large landing strip on its roof for alien spaceships to set down, so aliens from outer space can go shop in my indoor mall and then take homeless people on a space trip.  And yes, my Dream Home will be totally sustainable and socially and economically diverse.  It will have its own group of politically correct indoor assholes who will harass me about my cigarette smoking, but, because this is my Dream Home, I will be able to kill them, and then tell my indoor Police Force that they were probably killed by a bunch of kids from my indoor junior high school.  Ah, my Dream Home.  It’s in the works.  It will have its own indoor Hereafter, where I can give my very own indoor God a piece of my mind on occasions.  And its own daily newspaper and radio and TV stations, and its very own blogsites and Facebook and Twitter.  So enjoy my posts now while you can, because after my Dream Home is completed, I will have everything I need.  And I won’t need you anymore.  My Dream Home will have its very own indoor nuclear missiles and missile silos, and I will be able to sit on my indoor yacht on my very large indoor lake drinking a very expensive single malt scotch and use my remote to slowly eliminate those of you who threaten to fuck-up my neighborhood and depreciate the re-sale value of my Dream Home.  I will not kill all of you though.  Because my Dream Home wouldn’t be a Dream Home without people around to be impressed by it and say: “Wow!  Look at that house.  Wonder who lives there?”

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

Ok, there’s yahoo news blurb up I just scanned by that says Bill says that Hillary is definitely running in 2016.  Thank you, Bill.  Hope this is true.  I’ll leave it to one of you Dems to put the story up.  All’s I can say is that it’s past time a woman took over and got us all straightened out.  I’m going to clean my room now.

(This is so funny (and, I’ll bet, true) that I spit a beverage through my nose.  And that was single malt scotch, Sue.  An expensive nose-spit.)

In a smoke-filled room at the Vatican, the College of Cardinals meet to discuss future business after Benedict’s abdication:

Cardinal Barzini:  “All right.  We’re all here, the representatives of the 120 Major Families.  The smaller Families will go along with what we finish settling here today.  Cardinal Sollozzo has asked for a vote on his proposal.  Cardinal Corleone, you have something to say?”

Cardinal Corleone:  “I know all the Families have some fears about where we’re headed now that Benedict has resigned.  We have voted to move in a more liberal direction.  This is good.  It is good for business.  Cardinal Moe has already made contact with this Mr. Trump in New York, and I think this move, if we make Trump an offer he cannot refuse, will mean an end to the closing down of so many of our businesses that we’ve seen in recent years.  When we take over the Trump Organization, I think we will have a way back to good business again, like in the old days.  But this proposal of Cardinal Sollozzo?  With all respects, I cannot support it.  If we get into this drug business, I see trouble for us up ahead.  And using the little Altar Boys as…what was it, Cardinal Sollozzo?”

Cardinal Sollozzo:  “Runners, Cardinal Corleone.”

Cardinal Corleone:  “Yes, runners.  Who help distribute the drugs.  I think that’s bad for business.  The people will turn against us.  As they did about the sex with all the little boys.  This drug thing.  It worries me.  I’m an old man, so I worry.  But I have also seen things in my time like this.  Things like this sometimes are trouble.  So convince me.”

Cardinal Tattaglia:  “But Cardinal Corleone, we used the little boys for sex, but it was not business.  We made no money on them.  But now, with Cardinal Sollozzo’s plan, we have sex and we do business.  You are too old-fashioned, Cardinal Corleone.  The drugs are where the real business, the real money, is.  The people want the drugs?  So we say yes, give the people what they want.  It is the job Our Almighty Godfather has given us to do.  The people need the drugs?  It is also our job to nurture the people.  So they will enter into the Godfather’s Kingdom with us.  The people therefore will come to us for the drugs.  To Mass.  To Confession.  To Bingo.  To our casinos in Las Vegas.  And they will be loyal to us, and those people not in our Families will join them.  We will grow as our business grows.  And no one will talk out of Confession.  No one will dare a sacrilege after what we have planned for Father Brasi in Vermont.  More people will come to us for the drugs, rather than go to the others in the drug business.  They will come to us, not the Russian families.  Because they will know our drugs are blessed.  By the Almighty Godfather.  And the Sweet Virgin Herself.  It is business, Cardinal Corleone.  It is just business.  But it is good business.  

Cardinal Corleone:  “Yes, but this business is a business that could take over all we do and all we are and all we love and worship.  I don’t know.  I still have doubts.  Forgive me, Cardinal Tattaglia, Cardinal Barzini.  And speak to me now, Cardinal Sollozzo.”

Cardinal Sollozzo:  “We already have the Trump Organization, Cardinal Corleone.  Cardinal Moe has informed me that, as of this morning, this man Trump has accepted our offer.  Seems that waking up in bed with a bloody comb-over hairpiece at his feet convinced him of our…how shall I say it?...sincerity.  And with the drugs, we will have the Halliburton and Monsanto Organizations too.  The smaller Families will grow into Major Families.  We’ll be able to have a thousand, maybe two thousand, new Cardinals.  And they will be young ones.  Some of them our past Altar Boys.  And it is the young that make us powerful, Cardinal Corleone.  Are you so old you have forgotten the eagerness of the young?  Of the little Altar Boys?  That is our future.  Cardinal Barzini, I ask for a vote.”

Cardinal Barzini:  “Have you said all you have to say, Cardinal Corleone?”

Cardinal Corleone:  “I will go along then.  But someday, Cardinal Sollozzo, I will ask a favor of you for my blessing here today.  A favor you cannot refuse.”

Cardinal Sollozzo:  “I will be at your disposal, Cardinal Corleone.  You do this for me today and I will be in your debt for eternity.”

Cardinal Corleone:  “Ah, eternity.  May we all live to see it come to pass.  Even with the drugs.”



Cardinal Tattaglia:  “I hear, Cardinal Corleone, that eternity will be better with the drugs.”  (All the Cardinals chuckle)

Cardinal Barzini:  “Then it is settled.  We don’t need a vote then?  Cardinal Sollozzo and Cardinal Tattaglia will proceed with the drug business.  And they will have all of us and all the members of all the Families behind them.  We have pledges of support from our Republican friends in the American Congress.  And we have more sex videos of American Congressmen of both parties with little boys.  And, thanks to Cardinal Ola, we will be back in business in Cuba after that awful man Castro dies.  Now, Cardinal Moe?  On the arrangements for Benedict?”

Cardinal Moe :  “Yes, Cardinal Barzini.  It is all arranged.  Benedict will be taken to a quiet little island in the Aegean.  We will say it is for his health.  Then, in a week, two weeks at the most, he will suffer an unfortunate accident while out on a small boat.  A tragic accident.  He will never have a chance to talk.  It is done.”

Cardinal Corleone:  “So Benedict will sleep with the fishes.  This is good.  This is good for business.”

Cardinal Barzini:  “All right then.  Our business here is completed.  Cardinals, join me now in a prayer to Our Heavenly Godfather.  Let us bow our heads and give thanks to Him.  And ask for His Blessing in all our future deeds here on His earth.  In the name of His Holy Spirit and His Holy Business.”

            THE END

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

(“It’s only business.  Just business.”)

Hi.  Click on this link, popesrus.god, and you will be able to nominate your choice for the next Pope.  We have a suggested list of candidates that includes Clint Eastwood, Donald Trump, Rand & Ron Paul, Sean Penn, Bob Dylan, Tim Tebow, Alex Rodriquez, Tiger Woods, Oliver Stone, and Chris(t) Christie, to name a few.  

However, you may write-in your own choice.  Like, say, Joe Biden or Robert DeNiro.  Wouldn’t it be cool to have Robert De Niro as Pope?  “Are you lookin’ at me?!” he’d say to the crowds in St. Peter’s Square.

Please include all your personal identifications, phone numbers (both home & work), where you bank, where you pray (or drink), whether you own a gun or guns, how many children you have and their ages and sex, the names and information on at least three friends or references, and what other blogsites you saw this contest notice on.

BECAUSE–If your choice for Pope actually becomes Pope, you will win a LIFETIME SUPPLY of Catholic Holy Water, as used by the Vatican and Monsanto.  Please get your entries in by Feb.28.

You may also add a line or two explaining your choice for Pope.  For example: “I think Joe Blow, a sex offender recently relocated into my neighborhood, would make a great Pope because then I won’t have to move my family to Vermont.”  or:  “I could see Big Daddy Kane as Pope cause didn’t he do a “fuk ya up da ass” song, or was that WC? He’s cool too.”  or;  “I choose Ralph Nader as Pope because then he could show that it was GOD who made a fucked-up product–The World–and not me.”

And remember, whoever the next Pope is will probably want to meet with you and your partner and your children.  People with no children are prohibited from entering this contest.  Thank you.  

YOU DON’T CARE–IT DIDN’T HAPPEN IN GAZA

 (A message to the so-called Radical Left)

Remember me?

I’m Shelly Frey

On December 6th in Houston, Texas

WalMart executed me

I was shot dead

For shoplifting

Then Newtown happened

And then Christmas

And then the Super Bowl

There was supposed to be

An investigation into what

WalMart did to me

I haven’t seen any follow-up

On that or any articles

On the Lefty Blogs

About this atrocity

Just more crap about Gaza

If I had been executed

At the WalMart in Gaza

By the IDF,

Would that have been better?

Now you Lefties are talking about

Impeaching Obama

Because he wants to drone

Dangerous Americans

Does that include shoplifters?

Why haven’t you white Lefties

Taken up my story?

Why is it that injustice far away

Really turns you on,

Rather than what happens

In your own backyard?

And all those children in Newtown?

Can’t you see it’s products

That killed them?

Just like products

Killed me?

Those assault rifles

Should just not be sold at all

It’s all the same old shit

The Corporations make profit

To kill us all

I mean all of us who are not

Privileged white male Lefties

Writing about Gaza

And impeaching Obama

I was just another black woman

Not worth your attention

You had so many important things

On your minds

And then those poor little children

So I guess if you could figure out

How Israel was behind Newtown

And connect Obama to it,

You’d be in Heaven

But you know what?

I don’t want you here

Not in my backyard

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

Today, I officially inaugurate the Trivia Question as a way of having some ‘more’ fun here on GMD.  I mean, we have fun all the time.  We should have a show on WCAX (and True North radio–are they still on?).  But now, we can have fun with history, music, movies, AND politics (lots of trivia there), AND, of course, Nuclear Contamination by Vt. Yankee, Fukushima, and Godzilla.  Speaking of contamination, a What Politician (Or Other Asshole) Said This question would bring on the Yuks too.

So, here goes, kiddies.  The first question is a History question:

What was realized by Operation Uranus (NOT a joke, folks) on Feb. 2 (Groundhog Day) a long time ago?

And, if you have any good ones of your own, well…save ’em.

I will delete these after correct answers are posted.

 

“You stupid fucked-up dildo dipshit asshole!  Listen, Senator, you want to talk about blame?  Well, I BLAME YOU and all your impotent male Republican colleagues for what happened in Benghazi, and every other goddamned bad thing that’s happened since 2001!  Because…SHUT UP!…I’m Talking Here!…Because all you little turds have been doing for years is making this country a laughing stock, and that’s why terrorists know they can get away with shit, because YOU REPUBLICANS let 9/11 happen!  And…HEY!…Did I say SHUT-THE-FUCK-UP? or What?!…Thank you…And it’s people like me who have to clean up your messes, and you know what, Senator Paul?…I’m NOBODY’S FUCKING MAID!  And I have ZERO TOLERANCE for MORONS!  Oh…I’M out of order, Senator?  I’ll show you fucking out of order, Titnose!…(Hillary frisbees heavy dinner plate at Senator Paul’s head)…I’ve got seven more of those in my bag, PIG!…a Christmas gift from Michelle…You WHAT?…You want my RESIGNATION?  I’m already resigning, you dim dim bulb!  Jesus!  So I can run for President in 2016!  So I can make your life, and all your fucking colleagues’ lives, a living Fucking HELL! After I’m elected, Senator Paul, I won’t need dinner plates.  I’m going to sign an Executive Order allowing me to cut your balls off with a pair of eyelash scissors live on Fucking FOX News!  But first I’m going to make you all clean up the mess you’ve made.  I’m a what?…A Bitch?…Duh, Senator, how clever of you to have noticed?  Tell me, Senator Paul, can you even SPELL the B Word.  Or are you still working on A, TO, and THE in your speech writing lessons?  You want to know what a Bitch is, Senator?  A Bitch is this very powerful person who sits in this big Oval Office and calls up IRS to have them go through your taxes.  Then the Bitch calls up HOMELAND and the FBI to look into your international business and political connections, and compare them with your voting record on National Security issues.  And then…and this is my favorite one, Senator Paul…the Bitch has all these photos and videos of you performing bizarre sex acts with 13 year-old girls…and boys…and…Oh, yes, Senator…you wait til you see them in the papers and on the tube.  This Bitch is going to ruin your life, Senator.  Because that’s what a Bitch does!   And Senator, when all this happens to you and all your Rich Republican Boy Friends, guess who’s to BLAME?  YOU!  You little piece of animal filth!  Because YOU’RE GUILTY!!  GUILT, Senator!!!  You and all the other MALE PIGS in this country.  YOU AND EVERY SINGLE MALE PIG IS GOING TO BE FIXED!!!  But first, I’m going to Pussy-Whip your asses for…well…for as long as I’m IN THE MOOD!!  You’ll all be BEGGING ME to cut your balls off, and dress you up in some cutsie housewifey dress and make you BAKE COOKIES!!!

“So there.  Now, if this committee has any more questions, I’d be happy to go into more detail about situations and positions past, present and future.  No?  Well then…oh…look at the time…I’ve got to go do a bit for Sesame Street.  You know, Senator, that show the Moron you ran for President last year wants to cancel.  Over My Dead Body!  No…I take that back…OVER YOUR DEAD BODY!…And YOURS!…And YOURS!…(Hillary is flinging dinner plates again, getting more and more deadly with each fling)…And YOURS!..And Fucking YOURS!…Fuck this!…Hand Me That Godamn Chair!!!………..”

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

(I thought GMD could use a flight of fancy just about now; and no one provides more satisfying ones than does Petey.   – promoted by Sue Prent)

University of Chicago…5 minutes ago…

A spokesperson for the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists revealed today that the famous DOOMSDAY CLOCK, set up in 1947 to monitor how close THE END OF THE WORLD is, has been found to be running about five minutes slow.  The Bulletin set the DOOMSDAY CLOCK at Five Minutes To Midnight in 2012, and announced this Monday that it would stay at Five Minutes To Midnight for the rest of 2013.  But, according to Bulletin spokesperson and Atomic Scientist Andy Polack, an anomaly now exists regarding the CLOCK’S accuracy, as the U of C custodian in charge of the CLOCK apparently never adjusted the CLOCK to accurate time in 2012.

“Yeah, I know, it’s kind of a screw-up, I guess, but Hell, we’re Atomic Scientists here, not The Timex Group.  Truth is, the damned Clock’s been running slow since 1949, but we always adjusted for that, and then set the big hand–it’s the Big Hand, right?–we set the big hand for the so many minutes to DOOM or The End Of The World, or whatever you want to call it.  I guess last year, Frank, the custodian in charge of the Clock, had some overtime pay issues here with the University, and was out on some kind of wildcat strike protest the day he was supposed to set the Clock right.  He got fired, and the University simply replaced him with…well, I guess you would call it a part time ‘scab’ custodian last year, and we all kind of forgot the most important thing Frank used to do with the Clock, and then the goddamn Custodians’ Union made the University hire a guy full time with overtime and benefits to be in charge of the Clock, and, well, seems like maybe somebody forgot to put setting the right time on the Clock in the new job description, or whatever, and, well…so all through 2012, after we did our DOOM setting at Five Minutes To Midnight, the Clock was actually running five minutes slow.  So, when we here at the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists say The End Of The World is five minutes away, it’s actually not.  I guess the Doomsday Clock should actually read Midnight or close to it, but, you know…shit happens.  Anybody got the time?  My watch is fucked-up.”

Polack said the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists and the University of Chicago will be hiring the CLoseButNoCigar Big Clock Company to come in and fix the DOOMSDAY CLOCK so it will not run slow anymore.  “And, of course,” Polack explained, “we don’t want it to run fast either.  That would really screw-up our projections on The End Of The World.  The CloseButNoCigar Company comes with this great recommendation from this group called Montpelier Alive in Montpelier, Vermont.  Seems CloseButNoCigar has been doing a great job over the years with the Big Clock located up on Montpelier’s City Hall tower.  And, I want to add, just so people won’t get all panicky or pissed-off, that we figure the Doomsday Clock isn’t really EXACTLY five minutes slow–maybe we’ve got about 30 or 35 seconds before the ACTUAL End Of The World, and that’s plenty of time.  Hell, that’s a SHITLOAD of time when you’re talking in terms of The End Of The World.  Hey, just look at how those Mayans fucked-up.  And they didn’t have to worry about or factor in the stuff us Atomic Scientists constantly deal with–like Jodie Foster announcing she’s GAY, or snow in Israel, or the new Neil Diamond CD.  I think we here at the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists have done a pretty fair job over the years on being like really close in our estimates about The End Of The World.  I mean, it’s the CLOCK that’s fucked-up, not us.  And we’re going to fix that.  So, let’s just say for now that it’s 30 Seconds To Midnight, and leave it at that.  AND, of course, hope and pray that nothing EARTHSHAKING happens for the rest of 2013.  Then, in 2014, we’ll probably go digital.  Maybe have a beeping alarm built into the CLOCK, just in case, and maybe do a New Year’s Eve thing with it like they do in Times Square.  I don’t know.  There’s all kinds of stuff we can do.  We’re Atomic Scientists.  And we want the DOOMSDAY CLOCK to be…well…like COOL.  Once it’s running right again, that is.  So thank you all.  And hey, what time did you say it was?”

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.