This is the story of how one black tie dinner party led to all this madness. And as promised we have updated this section and provided you with photos from this gala evening.
But first please fill out a Galluping Pole
As our Grand Dictator-tot, Po, was awaiting his last supper, a pooh-pot-po-po-platter, esquisitely prepared by chef Chief Red Cloud Lorenzo Sans Dubois, he gathered a reunion of all the arco covenant Daliamist disciples to disclose his secrets, a premonition psycho-therapeutic dream he had dreamt the night before.... Strange telataboolatures began to be disclosed to the amassed chariot-tots of the absinthely written stone tabletures of several rock operas.... the Poohdler on the roof, the Ghost Dances of the Three Kool S.O.C.K.S., the Magis Cristians, The Uklahoma Shootout (a never before released sub-titled Lucy meets the Sky with Diamonds....), and the well known Orchestral masterpiece (pragmatically mocking the war of 1812) since General Tubby-Custard was a gran-aficionado of the movements of the american po-loco pots.
Here, we all know that General Tubby Custards last stand at ze green plains where the rain falls everywhere (not only on ze plane and in Spain) including in the infamous historical landmark located near the city of freedom-dumb, Conchitajoaquin (named after a bad Spanish folk singer, and bailarina flamenca...) As dinner was served, the 12 aprospo-stiles gathered around to enjoy what would become the last
menage de trece, for one among these, a Judas, an anti-Po-totoe and a Po-Pot Dictator-tot wanna-be, named Jerry Fallinthewell Swinger, kidnapped Po!!!!!
These questions and many more will be answered "Same Bat Pad" "Same Bat Time! Same Bat Channel" (visit Galluping Poles for current election stats and other nonsense...speak softly and carry a big bag)
Please don't forget the referendum: Do we want to relive the century and put the coke back in Coca Cola? e-mail Lorenzo St. Dubois if the answer is yes! If no e-mail Mussolini. And while you're at it, maybe you can ask Mussolini if he can get SEPTA to run on time.
Anyway, we got side tracked. Back to the story at hand.
"At the very bottom of the class system, down below the 'working class' and the 'honest poor," there is a 'spurious aristocracy', a leisure class of bottom dogs devoted to luxury and aristocratic poses." -Tom Wolfe paraphrasing Thorstein Veblen.
The above quote pretty much describes the selfless attitude here at Mancunian Candidate HQ. We realized that we were neither Aristocratic nor poor. (and we don't mean pooh, baby!) And since it is Lincoln's Birthday, the only thing left to do was to take up another trendy cause. It has become necessary to host a bunch of fundraisers for Po. (For our southern brethren, we don't mean "the po'"; nor pop-tarts nor po-boyz for that matter; We mean po-po-platter! Po…the Teletubbie….KNOW WHAT I MEAN?). Many of you may not be aware of the atrocities committed last Black Friday, November 27, 1998, the biggest shopping day of the capitalist pigdog year. Po was sitting innocently in Macy's Window when he was unsuspectedly kidnapped by not only the IRA and ETA but also the CSA. We have reason to believe that Donald Duck is in on all this! As is General Zeca Carioca, we are sure!
We are sad to say that Po has not been seen since. The only thing known about the affair is that Po was accused of saying "faggot" when you squeezed his tummy. We know he was only saying "fidget" (or was that "midget"), but it don't matter; at this point it is all a bunch of enanoties. Angry mothers (led by the Ghost of Frank Zappa) have instigated a witch hunt and are demanding that Po be eliminated. It is rumored that Po is still a prisoner in the store although our agents cannot infiltrate the intense security and po-parazzi po-lice!. We have heard various accounts from former Macy's POWs who claim there is a secret dungeon underneath the basement. They say that Macy's on Black Friday would make a Turkish prison and Ho-Che-Ming City look like a Holiday in Cambodia. ("Man you should have seen them kicking G.G. Allin Po!"). Speaking of Dead Kennedys, this is certainly another Billy Gate! Sources at the highest level insist that Bill Gates is in league with the Freemasons to manufacture and distribute an imposter Po. And another reliable source told us that Spanish Dictator-tot Paco Pica Piedra is still alive and living in Laos running a sweat shop where these impo-sters Po's are being made. - The imposter Po puppet Governments have been programmed to brainwash America's children with Capitalist dogma. One unconfirmed report states that the faux Po, like the Pied Piper, encourages children to "Go to the Windows!", "Buy!" and "Sell!"; it also encourages them to say: "What's your Angle?" and "Who's Baby is That?". A conspiracy this big has not been seen since Freemasons imprisoned Pope Leo XIII (po'Liam!) and installed an imposter in the Vatican in 1892.
The biggest mystery of all is how Frank Zappa and the Mothers Against Drunk Driving got duped into becoming involved. Even given the fact that their assumptions are based on erroneous information, they should be delighted by a doll that shouts queer-bashing slogans. After all, what mother has ever wanted one her precious little darlings to have any kind of association with card carrying homosexuals, much less admit to being homosexual?? We can only conclude that they must be mad. We at Manc Headquarters endeavor to learn more. We thought that if WE (and not eso si que es) held a black tie cocktail party, invited loads of famous people, charged them $3,000 a plate and served Beluga Caviar and Krug Champagne, we would have a most enlightening evening. However, no yellow Lala Perils allowed in this Maison Blanc!
New York Times Culture and Fashion correspondent, The Hon. Miss Attilla Livingston Schuyler Sackville-West was in attendance and wrote the following account:
"February 7, 1999 - The Red Rubber Ball was perhaps the most densely packed celebrity Gala since Truman Capote's legendary Black and White Ball. This earth-shattering event was held in the palatial Sutton Place home of International Jet Set Girl of the year, Bunny Lake-Roosevelt-Longworth. "The Party" was timed to coincide with the 35th anniversary of the Beatles' historic 1964 storming of American soil at JFK International airport. Appropriately enough, all four of the candidates who are competing for the Mancunian Ticket in the November 2000 elections were in attendance to schmooze with the literati of the day and were also on hand to give their po-litico sense: Liam Gallagher (who was recently arrested for throwing a copy of Alger Hiss' "Better Red Than Dead" from a balcony at Glasgow International Airport and who is ahead in the Mancunian race), Mr. Davy Jones (The Monkee, not the Bowie), Teddy Roosevelt ("Ďf we have to do this all over again please just give me a downer and let me crash at Springtime for Hitler's wacky pad!")), and Fidel Castro ("Vote for me! I know both revolutionaries and dictator-tots!") were invited to speak out on the atrocious deterioration of civil liberties in America today.
The subject under debate was: The future of Po-ism, Pope-ism and Pop-ism in America. Among the many luminaries in attendance were Lee Radziwill, Mia Farrow, Bill Gates, Ivana Trump, George Plimpton, Princess Margaret, Lauren Bacall, Gloria Vanderbilt, Mary Astor, Malcolm Forbes Jr., Joan Rivers, Chelsea Clinton, Roman Polanski, Vladimir Nabakov, Dodi Fayed, Elizabeth Taylor, Oscar Wilde, Judy Garland, J.P. Morgan III, Andy Warhol, Nancy Sinatra, Newt Grinchrich, Marilyn Slash, SOCKS, Bianca Jagger, Lady Bird Johnson, Brigitte Bardot, Brigid Polk (great, great granddaughter of ex-president Whipple Shagpoke), Po-pe Ondine, those Crazy House people, and, of course, Donald Duck (those tape recorder people are EVERYWHERE! Even though at a gala like this they are wanted!), General Zeca Carioca and Sir Guy Grand (Davy and Liam's publicists/campaign managers respectively).
Lady Bunny recently hired artist Avida Dollars, founder of the Surrealist doctrine "DaLiam-ism", to decorate her enormous triplex. When one entered the long hallway, the form of a giant goat's head could be seen at the end of the hall. As one got closer, one could see that the goat head was really made of lord cat heads in a hat and exploding duck foie gras!. The chairs and tables were made of sheep's eyeballs encased in a viscous green liquid and Mr. Avida Dollars himself was wearing a hat on which appeared to be the likeness of the bloody head of Nicole Brown Simpson. Many of the guests were visibly shocked and upset that anyone could be so callous as to make fun of the murder, but Mr. Dollars denies that it has anything to do with O.J. Liam's brother, Noel Gallagher, offered to buy the hat for $10,000, but Mr. Dollars wouldn't sell. When Noel was asked to explain his brother's often bizarre statements, he said, "Liam never understands one thing Liam says because Liam only creates enigmas." When asked for her impression of Liam Gallagher, Lady Bunny replied "It's very exciting, I've never met an aborigine before. It's a first for me!"
Nearby Princess Margaret was discoursing on her recent realization that, eventhough she has no real chance at the crown, she does not like "poufs". When it was suggested that she would likely spend a lonely old age if that were the case, her face took on a rather strange expression as if to say 'off with his head'." After much champagne was consumed everyone took a seat around the makeshift podium.
Frank Zappa's Ghost, who seemed to have appointed himself the de-facto moderator, called for order. "Mr. Candidate! As an anti-pope-ist, what are you going to do about this Queer-bashing Po Doll. The Mothers are upset. And why don't you work on your music. You know the youth of America depend on you to show the way. You're behind in the Polls. Liam has about 85% of the population po-pulating and planning to vote for him. He's got a certain radical chic aura around him. People seem to like the fact that he's always getting thrown off faeries."
Davy the Mad Monkee got even madder. "Anyway, I know what the Galluping Poles are saying but I really don't know why anyone should even bother to believe in those damn Poles. I mean, can someone tell me what them Poles were running from? I asked the great master Maharishi Yogi Berra (stop it Fidel; do not interrupt me on this one!) and he don't know nothin'. He said something about Blitzkreig. I don't get that. I may know nothin, but I can assure you Liam don't know nothin either. He wants to take over the world and have himself made King. We all know he'll take orders directly from Rome and Pol Pot. He's got everyone believing that Po is the Red Menace. I know Liam is too dumb to know what that means, but his advisors are the ones that put him up to it. He doesn't seem to realize that the Vietcong are no longer a threat. He keeps yelling slogans like "Porkopolis Now!". Liam already has a taste for wine women and song that far exceeds that of Caligula or Nero. They may as well call him President Whipple Shagpoke. No one will be safe. Ask not for whom the Liberty Bell Tolls...It doesn't take a genius to see that Po is not a Red Menace any more than La La is a Yellow Peril. And Po's best friend Tinky Winky is gay! It makes no sense. Po is innocent and must be freed!"
A gasp is heard in the audience. Pope Ondine was quoted as saying: "No Po is a frightful thing, but God save us, a false imposter Po is more frightful still. The first act of a false Po would be to deny the cause of Dandy Warhols and Oscar Weinermobile and give its approval to the Republic! It's a far, far better thing to have creeps like us IN the church than on the outside working against it. People may think it's cool to be so out you're in, but baby we know better!"
The Mothers were a bit mad. "Well, lets see what the pope-ist has to say about that! but first, let's field any questions from the audience."
Brigid Poke, Warhol Superstar stood up. "I've got a question for Liam! Are you willing to shag Po for your convictions?"
Liam glared from the riser, "I don't know what she means! I don't care anything about the Vietcong. That's not even Chinese! I mean none of them ever called me a little aborigine. They say that just because I'm Irish Catholic that I could give a toss what the Pope says. That's not right! I'm for no Pope radio. I wanna put the Coke back in Coca Cola, a tiger in every tank, a pole in every pot and a Hoover in every White House. I want a diet of worms! And Pork Lips Now." At that point Liam became somewhat befuddled. " What's this mean? Worms! You think I eat worms? And what's this about how I'm gonna put my horse in the Senate? I don't have a horse. I've never ridden a horse in my life. God, I'm so insensed and peppermint!"
Davy stood up again. "I should know. I was a Jockey. But I never rode a horse named Incitatus. And I never called a cigarette a fag." The audience applauded.... for what? They didn't seem to know.
Avida Dollars was seen talking to CNN: "Avida Dollars NEVER understand…..one thing LIAM is saying because LEEE-um Trotsky only create enigmas. The four horsemen need a horse! Qui etes vous? Polly Magoo? Eso si que es! Bebe Baby! I have unveiled my latest work for the occasion. It is called, the 'Lobster Tele-Tubbie-phone (ah, if only Franco would have listened to me!…he would have been AMERICONO) It is made of graphite. I don't like nothing soft, unless it is Camembert cheeeeeeze! Only hard things for ME! Porque me gusta solamente los Enanitos verdes! And Evita! Pero no quiero Rand McNally! Avida Dollars can do-nate Buchephalus, Rocinante and Incitatus, but who will be the fourth horse? An Americono Moose?
Back at the podium, Liam was still a bit puzzled. "Incitatus? Isn't that some sorta Mexican food? Why is it these Mexicans like me so much. And why is it not alright for me to have a horse when it's alright for Clinton to have a cat named Socks."
Avida Dollars suddenly blurted for all the room to hear, "Es o si que es!" The audience cheered. It appears the President's cat is very popular.
Liam continued. "Who's that Mexican bird who painted all those pictures of me? Who is she?....that Frida Jalapeno Medicine Montezuma bird. I'd shag her. And who's that bird who asked me for a shag po? Go poke yourself you fat cow! I'm pissed off about that Mafia Destiny stuff you Presidents keep on about. All you Roosevelts chased all them Red Indians away and now there's nothing to eat in this country. I
don't care about Hollywood. I want Bollywood. I go east!"
"It appears we have a question from Lady Bird Johnson!" Said the Mothers trying to shout down the rest of the room.
"But Liam, how are you going to improve on the Great Society?"
Liam: "Well that's something I know. Better bouncers at Ellis Island. That's what you lot need. Dye Know what I mean?"
All the socialites in the room applauded Liam as they thought his speech, punctuated regularly by "D'ye know what I mean" was highly exotic like Beatnik Poetry. "How metrical! Pretty soon everything's going to be metric!" Exclaimed Lady Bunny.
Teddy Roosevelt stormed the stage at that point. He could take no more. Steam was pouring out of his ears. "What is this nonsense? No wonder you people refuse to vote! If we ever need a Central Stupidity Agency, we know just who we can get to run it! I cannot believe that you hard-working Martians listen to this crap! Everyone is missing the damn pilgrim ferry! The Manc with the Mud Rake is fixed on shagging the po-pulace instead of believing in the higher and spiritual things in life. Don't you se that Liam has set his eyes on all that is vile and debasing? Not only does he need help ("A lot of it"...chimed in Noel), but he is a po-tent for Dr. Evil! Do not allow the whole picture to be painted black (No comments from you, Bianca!) These Mancunian randy scouse gits want to color blind us all! ("I'm not a bloody scouser", Liam was heard to say). They want to make us gray, and we all know where the Confederacy of Dunces got us! All other candidates are degenerates, anti-Americans, infiltrators, brainwashers! Do NOT trust those candidates who perpetually sneer at our American politics! Come ye, po' citizens! Do not fall for these negative thinkers, for they are the true imposters! Grave yellow perils are yet to come our way to blind us in the road to this remake of the greatest century mankind has ever seen! Beware the Anarchist Cobis and the turbulent ultra-po!!!!! Do not fear or loathe them, however! For they know not what they do. Vote for the American Dream! Follow the Yellow Brick Road! Long live Bullwinkle!"
At this point, Fidel started seeing bats! "My advisors are so "in" they're "out"….which means, we Cubans must be so "out", we're in, bebe!".
Fidel Castrator then tossed the bat away and strode up to the dais. "I don't understand all this post Sputnik Beat Poetry. People think that San Juan Hill is some sort of radio-Marti-play about an American guy named Archie Bunker Hill. 'Gotta catch the fever? Let's Go Mets?' What are these people talking about? Who are these Infidel Yanks who keep wanting to vote for Mancs? We don't need your hamburgers and hotdogs or that damn English food! We have real food down here! All I ever wanted to do is play leftfield with the Yanks! But no, that was never an option for a dictator-tot like me! They say, 'Go play at Che Stadium!' Infidel Yankees Go Home! Who do they think I am? Los Beatles? The Babe never said this "bebe!" You Yanks NEED a revolucion now! You have created a monster! A monster of such magnitude that even my friend, Mary Wollsencraft Chelly's Francostein is no longer a friend of mine! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE???? Ney, ney mis tres amigos, you citoyens are doomed to repeat your history, unless, of course, you weren't there! Well, I will unleash my monster on you followers of fashion! How wild is that? His name is no other than PINOCHE! THE greatest dictator-tot AND revolutionary all rolled into one! I don't think you Norte-Americonos want to do this Baia de Cerdos all over again, do you? Because if you do, we are ready! CUBA LIBRE!!!!
What was Teddy's response to all these candidates?
"I am a crazy man on the moose! So what if Fidel carries a small bat? I have a big Donald Duck stick and forget Manifest Destiny, It's a Mancunian Destiny, baby! Attention all lectors (definitely not to be confused with an American Bookstore or The American Dream...in this version, Hannibal will be riding a big Bull Moose, forget the Elephant and Castle. Forget the Camel cigarette ads too. That's kid stuff) enough of all this enanoties; the time for action is now! We are now entering the vortex of the Amaricono Dream! Those Tape Recorder Donald Duck Falwellian CSA people are closing in on us. Are you a Pop-ist or a Pope-ist? We are going through extreme trauma here; we need some hello here! We have the chance to win that jackpopot at the end of the rainbow! Don't let this Commie Fidel keep reinventing that damn wheel of Fortuna (The official Cigarette of the Spanish Civil War)! Let us no longer allow these imposters to po-llute our society! We must po-pullate those po'folks in the South. You know.... that Manson-Nixon line? We must find and kill the Po! And Lala Laos is due for an invasion! Holiday Inn Cambodia is not enough for us Gingrich Gringos, and we don't mean those dead Kennedys….It's not po-pular to believe all we know is on a po to know basis for we know were they are keeping Po; I believe that to po-stulate about an invasion is our only way out, so far out we will be.... in that big white house! I am of the old school, the school of our great forefather, Whipple Shagpo!
"Well, the word is out! ; if you choose to not see the light you will have to deal with the repocussions (or the Repo-man); We can manipolate the world ; we need to make the city of Big Brotherly Love the center (once again) of our freedom-dum! If you do not vote for me, you will end up migrating like a spiral eggnog to the center of Hiss bount on an Algerian train to Manchester! What is this nonsense I keep hearing about putting coke back in Coca-Cola? If you vote for me this time round we will do it all over again ; the clock strikes back! Let it be 1900! Let the fab four years of 1914-1918 have me as the supreme dictator tot; that Wilson guy really should have had 19 teen points! I miss Prussia. Don't you? Hapsburgs, Wilhelm, Kaisers, Ottomans,(the comfiest seats!) and of course let's not forget this is Czar house! "F" the white house! We all know who killed my ancestor, FDR....: PoLiam! And I don't mean that Rush more moose, damn it! America, the world, Remember! The crazy man on the moose is loose! And it is the future of this country that is at steak and shake! The ticket to freedom-dum is up to you! As our great forefather, Thomas Po said: ask not for whom the liberty bell tolls, for it tolls for ME!"….
[Just a reminder, this is still the fashion police, New York Times Society writer Attila Sackville West's dream you know. There isn't much more to read…..ed.]
Tom Wolf observed that one of the most important criterion for New York's glitterati to espouse one Radical Chic cause over another is that the headquarters of the movement should be located as far from New York as possible. In the case of the Pink and Black Panthers it was Oakland. In the case of the American Indians, it was Roswell, New Mexico. In the case of the Mancunian Candidates, it is Cuba, Greenland, Brazil, England and Poland. So, the whole gliterrati world was hooked!!!! Anyone who was "with-it" got it! And anyone who didn't, were so far-out they didn't really get too many volunteers!
Dýou know what we mean?
Well...count down has begun! If you've gotten this far, as your attorneys, we advise you to please send your po-do-nations to:
Mancunian Candidate HQ! In case you forgot, that's god@mancuniancandidate.com (because, lets face it, God is the only one who makes it all possible. We don't mean that white father in the sky either. We mean our webmaster.)
Let's have the guts to make this century, already the greatest century known to man, even better! let's do it all over again and have the Technicolor dreamcoats ( no Aphrodisiac jackets required) to do it!
Damn Yankees! Long live the Mancunian Candidate! We have reached the Po-pit…. We refuse to live in this popot…. We refuse to deal with the despot police….Remember, the power can be revoked at anytime…...Man, we've gotta break out of that caste man……
Epilogue:
But where does Dipsy fit in? As the great philosopher Lennon said,
"Dipsy was not a revolutionary. Dipsy merely hung around the revolution."