Random Asides

Ever wish you weren’t so skeptical?

I saw this at the bookstore this morning, and found myself wishing I was gullible enough to buy it!


The George W. Bush Voodoo Kit: Stick It to Him Like Hes Been Sticking It to You!

It’s also available on Amazon.

writerdd

Donna Druchunas is a freelance technical writer and editor and a knitwear designer. When she's not working, she blogs, studies Lithuanian, reads science and sci-fi books, mouths off on atheist forums, and checks her email every three minutes. (She does that when she's working, too.) Although she loves to chat, she can't keep an IM program open or she'd never get anything else done.

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9 Comments

  1. I hope the Secret Service is as skeptical as you, if not I fear we shall see a Global War on Sewing Needles and Other Pointy Objects as Homeland Security scrambles to deal with this new danger to the Commander-In-Chief.

  2. Can't you just enjoy the thing by -pretending- to believe in Voodoo for the period over which you inflict pain?

    So what if it doesn't work, it'd be an incredible conversation piece!

    Guest (G): "You do voodoo?"

    You (Y) : "No, not really…"

    G : "What about that doll there?"

    Y: "Oh that, that's my therapy… it's kinda like a stress ball"

    G: "You don't believe in voodoo, but you use that doll?"

    Y: "That's right, I pretend to believe in voodoo during the ritual, and I feel ever so much better afterwards, even though I know it actually do anything to GWB. You're welcome to give it a go if you like!"

    A whole subculture of GWB stabbers… it's an imagining to treasure… ;)

  3. I saw that in the bookstore yesterday morning when I was picking up my copy of Deathly Hallows.

    I admit it. I was utterly torn inside over that voodoo doll. In between rational bouts of disinclination to financially support the superstitions behind the humor, there were malicious little bouts of glee and maniacal (silent) laughter at the thought of the stress relief I would get from its use.

    I wound up not buying the thing, and I am not currently sticking it in its beady little eye with a needle, nor have I now moved on to sticking it in the neck, nor have I now found a somewhat lower target for my aggressive stress relief.

    Nor have I just this morning found Shakespeare (my golden retriever) trying to chew its head off, nor did I deliberately hesitate to take it from him, nor did I place it on the patio yesterday afternoon to see what would happen if I ran over its head with the lawn tractor.

    Finally, I most certainly did not shove anything resembling polyps up its posterior.

    It is, however a beautiful morning, this morning. There are birds chirping and butterflies butterflying. Love is in the air, romance is on the wind, and the headache I've had for a week seems to be passing.

    Stress? What's that?

    Just so y'know.

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