Jesse over at pandagon has been made an offer he has chosen to refuse. He has just about the best set of reasons for his choice that a person could ask for.
[Note: We’re really happy to bring you yet another example of as much mixed metaphorical allegory, innuendo, and hearsay as can reasonably be constructed without wasting (cough) too much of our precious (cough) (cough) time.]
We here at the Funny Farm commend him on his, in our opinion, wise decision to step away from the entrance to that big bucket of crabs that is the corpo-weasel world of the next few years. The sharks have eaten all the chum, kids, and now they are almost all that is left. And the eternal dance of this type of corporate behavior is now one of the few notes still being sounded in the corridors of power. Pretty soon they’ll be getting down to ten chiefs per indian around my shop. Once enough chiefs have secured their golden parachutes and gotten the hell out of Dodge, that is.
It is also the fervent hope that somehow bunches of fervent anti-PigBoy legions decide to contribute to our noble cause over at the Rush Limbaugh Show transcript mirror sites by signing up to work on the Liberal Manhattan Project. Won’t you take a look and try and decipher what the hell I’m talking about?