Heir Commissar Burgermeister Meisterbruiser has a new edict;
From here on, the noble, svelt, handsome potentate of the Gloriously Progressive State of Progressive Gloriousness, Heir Commissar Burgermeister Meisterbruiser, declares that Wal Mart is off limits. This edict has nothing to do with the stores nefarious trade practices, though Heir Commissar Burgermeister Meisterbruiser does frown upon them as well. No, my humble comrades, Heir Commissar Burgermeister Meisterbruiser has his gloriously progressive knickers up in a bunch because the peons shopping at that unrighteous haven of hedonistic consumerism have yet to master the apparently complex art of parking in a parking lot. Your brilliant and humble Commissar found himself boxed in for the second time in a month by agents of the bourgeoisie elitist unintelligentsia who had left the tail of their Chevy Behemoth sticking several feet out past the other cars, and was forced to wait until the person in front of him pulled out in order to leave the parking lot and return to the Gloriously Progressive State of Progressive Gloriousness. While the Crimson Guard have been dispatched to escort those responsible for this travesty to the nearest Gloriously Progressive Wholesome, Reeducated Milk And Cookie Factory of Progressive Gloriousness, your ingenious comissar feels that it is only appropriate that the depot of decadence also be penalized. That is all, now return to work.
From here on, the noble, svelt, handsome potentate of the Gloriously Progressive State of Progressive Gloriousness, Heir Commissar Burgermeister Meisterbruiser, declares that Wal Mart is off limits. This edict has nothing to do with the stores nefarious trade practices, though Heir Commissar Burgermeister Meisterbruiser does frown upon them as well. No, my humble comrades, Heir Commissar Burgermeister Meisterbruiser has his gloriously progressive knickers up in a bunch because the peons shopping at that unrighteous haven of hedonistic consumerism have yet to master the apparently complex art of parking in a parking lot. Your brilliant and humble Commissar found himself boxed in for the second time in a month by agents of the bourgeoisie elitist unintelligentsia who had left the tail of their Chevy Behemoth sticking several feet out past the other cars, and was forced to wait until the person in front of him pulled out in order to leave the parking lot and return to the Gloriously Progressive State of Progressive Gloriousness. While the Crimson Guard have been dispatched to escort those responsible for this travesty to the nearest Gloriously Progressive Wholesome, Reeducated Milk And Cookie Factory of Progressive Gloriousness, your ingenious comissar feels that it is only appropriate that the depot of decadence also be penalized. That is all, now return to work.