The Great Murdoch, Mighty Media Wizard, has had, for about a decade now, a pile of equine excrement (a.k.a. horseshit) lying on his lush office carpet. It's a pretty big load of crap - weighing in at approximately 63 kilos (or the weight of 3000 souls X 21g ). Rupert has - of course - tried to remove it, or at least sweep it under the rug - time and again. In vain. One of the problems is that a wicked fairy has cast a spell on the dung pile.
So the Great Rupert has been forced to find a way around the problem. With his own magic Spin Wand (stolen from an Aboriginal sorcerer), he has spun hundreds of spider webs around his office ceiling. This way, whenever someone enters his office, the visitors' attention will be drawn to the ugly spiders crawling on the ceiling - and pay little attention to the horsecrap on the carpet. Rupert, ever the quirky Aussie joker, gives his spiders funny names such as 'Sun Scam', 'Wire Tap', 'Spy-Der', 'Fall Guy', 'Maddof' - or girls' names such as Maddy, Holly, Jessica, Myriam, etc...
So how, you may ask, did that monstrous pile of crap get there? This goes back to a meeting sometime in early 2001. Rupert had invited to his office all his media-mogul cronies and other goons in high places. George Bush Junior, ever the cow-boy prankster, arrived on horseback. They had this plan to pull off a gigantic false-flag attack - as huge as their combined egoes - to fool the public, enable profitable wars and a myriad of murky business opportunities. They all chuckled merrily and slapped high-fives at the prospect. Meanwhile - back in an office corner - Bush's hungry stallion was being fed with majestic stacks of hay brought in from the Queen's stables.
It was a bold plot: they would bring down the old, decrepit - and empty - World Trade Center complex, and tell everyone that 'Binladen' was to blame for the killing of thousands of fictional office workers. But all of a sudden, as they kept planning away, Rupert and his fellow conspirators ran into a deadlock: to their general embarrassement, they had come to realize that none of them was smart enough to come up with a way of generating such a mass of fictional organic matter. So they turned around and called upon the horse for advice. The horse delivered.
In a recent party in Rupert's office, something terrible happened. As the guests were, as usual, looking up in the ceiling, arguing about the spiders( "that's the ugliest one!" - " No, that one down there is uglier!!") a tipsy American congresswoman tripped over a caviar case and landed face first into the nasty manure. "Yeech!" - she gasped. "What's this?!" A nearby guest exclaimed : "Gross!" A butler rushed to her rescue, wiping the dung off her face. Murdoch himself rushed to the scene to help pull her out - "I'm so sorry, Madam Maloney"! But the damage was done: Rupert promptly ordered his butler to set all his ugly spiders free - to divert the attention out of his office. The butler stuttered: "But,but... Sir...What will The Public say?" The foxy mogul growled back like a wolf: " Throw them spiders OUT! In the street! My shitty media empire can fall - but if this crap comes out, the Whole Wide West will collapse! Just do it!"
My favorite suspicious "suicide" to date...millionaire's gf lets his son fall to his death...and strips naked, binds her own feet and hands, then hangs herself off the balcony.
4 comments:
See also: Oswald, Lee Harvey; Madam, D.C.
Like that other Brit Kelly (weapons of mass destruction, not) who supposedly went for a walk and blew his brains out, right?
A FLEET STREET FABLE:
The Great Murdoch, Mighty Media Wizard, has had, for about a decade now, a pile of equine excrement (a.k.a. horseshit) lying on his lush office carpet. It's a pretty big load of crap - weighing in at approximately 63 kilos (or the weight of 3000 souls X 21g ). Rupert has - of course - tried to remove it, or at least sweep it under the rug - time and again. In vain. One of the problems is that a wicked fairy has cast a spell on the dung pile.
So the Great Rupert has been forced to find a way around the problem. With his own magic Spin Wand (stolen from an Aboriginal sorcerer), he has spun hundreds of spider webs around his office ceiling. This way, whenever someone enters his office, the visitors' attention will be drawn to the ugly spiders crawling on the ceiling - and pay little attention to the horsecrap on the carpet. Rupert, ever the quirky Aussie joker, gives his spiders funny names such as 'Sun Scam', 'Wire Tap', 'Spy-Der', 'Fall Guy', 'Maddof' - or girls' names such as Maddy, Holly, Jessica, Myriam, etc...
So how, you may ask, did that monstrous pile of crap get there? This goes back to a meeting sometime in early 2001. Rupert had invited to his office all his media-mogul cronies and other goons in high places. George Bush Junior, ever the cow-boy prankster, arrived on horseback. They had this plan to pull off a gigantic false-flag attack - as huge as their combined egoes - to fool the public, enable profitable wars and a myriad of murky business opportunities. They all chuckled merrily and slapped high-fives at the prospect. Meanwhile - back in an office corner - Bush's hungry stallion was being fed with majestic stacks of hay brought in from the Queen's stables.
It was a bold plot: they would bring down the old, decrepit - and empty - World Trade Center complex, and tell everyone that 'Binladen' was to blame for the killing of thousands of fictional office workers. But all of a sudden, as they kept planning away, Rupert and his fellow conspirators ran into a deadlock: to their general embarrassement, they had come to realize that none of them was smart enough to come up with a way of generating such a mass of fictional organic matter. So they turned around and called upon the horse for advice. The horse delivered.
In a recent party in Rupert's office, something terrible happened. As the guests were, as usual, looking up in the ceiling, arguing about the spiders( "that's the ugliest one!" - " No, that one down there is uglier!!") a tipsy American congresswoman tripped over a caviar case and landed face first into the nasty manure. "Yeech!" - she gasped. "What's this?!" A nearby guest exclaimed : "Gross!" A butler rushed to her rescue, wiping the dung off her face. Murdoch himself rushed to the scene to help pull her out - "I'm so sorry, Madam Maloney"! But the damage was done: Rupert promptly ordered his butler to set all his ugly spiders free - to divert the attention out of his office. The butler stuttered: "But,but... Sir...What will The Public say?" The foxy mogul growled back like a wolf: " Throw them spiders OUT! In the street! My shitty media empire can fall - but if this crap comes out, the Whole Wide West will collapse! Just do it!"
My favorite suspicious "suicide" to date...millionaire's gf lets his son fall to his death...and strips naked, binds her own feet and hands, then hangs herself off the balcony.
http://news.yahoo.com/son-girlfriend-calif-ceo-die-5-day-span-075647233.html
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