[Two players enter world stage and circle each other warily, one standing and dribbling a globe, the other with a horse between his legs, his broad chest gleaming with manly manliness.]
“Ho, there, little man on foot. Mind the hooves. It would be a pity if you were to accidentally get squashed like a bug.”
“As if. I am far too quick for that. I can dunk over you any time I want, with my vaunted quickness. You and the horse you rode in on.”
“Only a fool thinks of himself as exceptional.”
[The horseman strikes a pose, and suddenly the globe sails over his head, while he swats at it wildly. The first man has darted quickly around the horse and caught the globe on the other side. He resumes dribbling.]
“Your pet state made a stinky.”
“Not my pet state.” The man on the horse notices a small roll of flesh over his trousers and makes a small twisting adjustment in his torso to eliminate it. “My pet state was in the yard the whole time.”
“Nuh-uh.”
“He who smelt it, dealt it!”
[Dribbling.] “I think I’ll drop a missile on your pet state for making a stinky.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Boom!”
“My pet state didn’t have anything to make a stinky with. Nevertheless, because I am the bigger man, as you can see by my horse and chest of manliness, I will tell it to give up the stuff it could have made a stinky with, if it had any, which it doesn’t.”
[The globe bounces: one, two, three times, and then comes to rest under the man’s outstretched palm.]
“All right, I’ll back off for now.”
“Ha ha, made you stop. I lured you in with my huge, throbbing diplomacy. I threw out my bait, and you snapped at it. I am the King of Baiting. I am the Master. Say it.”
“No you didn’t. You folded. You folded because you are afraid of my big missile.”
“Am not.”
“Are too,” the man said, giving the mounted man a little poke in the belly.
“That’s it. Deal’s off until you admit that you fell in my trap. And I’m gonna tell the United Nations you poked me. Say you’re sorry.”
[Voice of the United Nations off-world-stage] You kids quit running with scissors and keep it down out there. I’m trying to watch my show.
“United Nations, he’s poking me!”
“I’m not touching him!”
[The man dribbles steadily with one hand and wiggles his other finger an inch away from the rider’s
chest. The rider’s man-nipples flare erect and cast shadows across his midsection.]
[Voice of the United Nations off-world-stage] That’s it, you kids are driving me nuts. Wait till your father gets home.
[The globe bounces once and is still. The horse drops his head. Both men squint, puzzled. The horseman speaks first.]
“Woodrow Wilson? He’s been dead for ninety years!”
[Door slams off-world-stage, sound of weeping.]
“Way to go, doo-doo-head. Poot poot pootie-poot!”
“Fairy!”
[Horse tosses mane and flounces off, man-nipples pointing the way.]
The best analysis of our current situation I've read anywhere.
Oh dear, it sounds like you should be reading more!
Politics? Me no unnastan'
Me neither.
I do agree with Bill. It's amazing how you have captured the nuances of the situation. 🙂
Really, it was in 2003 that I really really had the feeling a lot of people's fate was being decided by a few men's own personal issues. Much more than today. But there is something seriously wrong with Putin.
That's one way to look at it.
I have other ways. Some of them serious.
Imagine the religious outrage if a woman president rode a horse bare chested and showed her nipples.
the Ol'Buzzard
Are you imagining that right now, sweetie?
Well done. The real-world contretemps is just that puerile. Except for the part where people die.
Incidentally, I'm one of those rare left-wing fans of Obama. Not about everything, but in general.
Well done. The real-world contretemps is just that puerile. Except for the part where people die.
Just as long as no one else makes a stinky, I don't care how they arrange it. But boy, when Dad DOES get home . . .I'm just hoping I won't live long enough to see ithe fit hit the Shan.
I think you and I are going to skate out of this plane before things get super ugly.
Nicely done. Especially the part about tummy sucking. Er, ab sucking.
You know he thinks about it.
Nice job. If only we could dial back the testosterone levels just a bit…. Actually I have no idea whether that would help.
I try to imagine a world filled with female heads of state, and I keep thinking about Michelle Bachmann and Sarah Palin and Margaret Thatcher and then I think, you know? Maybe if we could start out with about a twentieth of the current population, we could make some progress.
Nah. Bachmann, Palin, and Thatcher got famous because… men. I loved Golda Meir, who when presented with a law that was meant to cut down the prevalence of rape in Israel by setting a curfew on women said that it wasn't women who needed the curfew, it was men. I'm convinced there are far more women with common sense than not, and if we women (who outnumber men in the US, btw) really got ourselves together, we could control Congress.
Well, I like the way you think.
For me the most frightening part is not so much what the leaders do as it is the sheer numbers of people on either side who are filled with hate because they grew up seeing it modeled. And for a great number of those, the testosterone levels make things even worse, like BLissed-Out Grandma observed.
It's difficult to conceive of peace in the middle East. They've been seeing hate modeled for a thousand years.
heeeheeee…
"I am the King of Baiting. I am the Master. Say it."
heeeeehaaahhaaaaaa
SAY IT!
I am getting very worried about the contest which starts with 'my stinky is bigger than your stinky' and continues on to fart lighting.
Oh man! I think you've hit on the solution to all the world's military engagements. Fart lighting by the leaders. If it gets past self-immolation, points are awarded for intensity and depth of field.
They should rename the UN – "The Lag of Nations"
It's such a good idea, though, isn't it? It always was. It's still worth pursuing.
You totally amaze me with your understanding of diplomacy. Testosterone filled juveniles playing mine is bigger than yours games. Why aren't you President of the World?
(1) No testosterone;
(2) incriminating photographs.