[So predictable: all the EZLN, zapatista and Other Campaign translations are in our Library. And, once again, there is a new one tonight. From the Comandancia, and concerning aid for the storm victims.]
A little cloud of words has been swirling through my head this evening, odd ones, and I don’t have a clue as to what might have conjured them. Paradox. Not irony, paradox, as I like to leave that misnomer to others. Tartuffery. Perhaps I’ll have it sorted by tomorrow.
But, since we are skirting the subject, I’m delighted to see that one of our salonistas DOES have a life, thus providing me with the opportunity to insert Ms. Miller’s unsavory and history shattering backstory.
Once upon a time, when George the Lesser and the Most Evil Overlords decided they were in need of a profitable foreign adventure, they concocted an elaborate tale concerning Another Evil, but Dwarfish, Overlord. They dreamt up a fool’s arsenal of arcane weaponry and then placed them in his coffers. Virtually.
Now their next step was to convince the populace, their vassals, that said arsenal was, in fact, nonvirtual, or real, as it were. They had already met with resounding success in frightening the pants off their cowering vassals - it being post and pre-apocalypse and all - so they were feeling rather frisky.
The venture fell to the Dark Master Overlord who charged his sidekick, Scooter, with tasking a likely “journalist” with providing cover. And there she was, our Ms. Miller, quick like a bunny, scooting off, “special” security clearance in hand, to cover the big bad WMD. Writing of their veracity in her sterling journal, sweetly telling her editors to bugger off [and they buggered quite quickly, given that they were merely vassals with better suits than most], reveling in her role as Harlot to the Overlords.
And from that time forward, all the lip pursing, rumpled yet foppish, reflective journalists [yes, I’m channeling Aaron Brown] could get in line with the rest of the herd, prancing, if not rushing, off to War. After all, at that time, and I know we remember that time, even the Aaron Browns of the country were frightened. And what they most feared was for their lives: their good names, their mortgage payments, their retirement portfolios. They knew full well that anyone not in lockstep with the Most Evil Overlords didn’t stand a chance in hell of escaping their terrible swift wrath.
The Overlords were mightily pleased, knowing they could never have done it without her, and the rest is History.
The foreign adventure was indeed profitable, most especially for the Dark Master Overlord. The Harlot made various additional pacts with the coven, and the Newspaper of Record resigned itself to bottoming.
Yes, I really am almost breathless with anticipation at what might come next.