Europe Flees Mongo

Mongo is at present wobbling around Europe, and things are proceeding weirdly.

First, Mongo’s tummy got upset, on the transatlantic airplane. The doctors sought to provide him with Medicine, to relieve the nausea. But they got mixed up, the doctors, there in the Medicine Bag, and so instead of the dramamine, they administered to Mongo jimson weed. This explains why Mongo is now trying to shake hands with marble busts that have no hands.


Another photo from the Jimson Experience, seen below, documents Mongo gazing into the crowd, and there perceiving his old friend and mentor, Roy Cohn, a man long dead, prancing about in a tutu.


Below, we see Mongo coming off the airplane, trying not to hurl, as Mrs. Mongo Vol. III holds the flowers she will place on Mongo’s grave. The ring on the third finger of her right hand symbolizes that she is a widow. She just couldn’t wait.


In this photo, a giant bronze War Man comes to life, and prepares to pinch a big stinking loaf, as Mrs. Mongo Vol. III explains to those assembled why she needs to be a widow. She is speaking in Slovenian, so Mongo does not know what she is saying; he thinks she is recounting the time she was able to locate his micropenis without an electron microscope.


Giant bronze War Men springing to life is typical of the sorts of disruptions of space/time that occur wherever Mongo goes. Below, we see another: members of the “Indian Wars”-era 7th Cavalry, coming out of a time tunnel, in order to experience Mongo.


A new Pew poll of the people of the G20 nations reveals that 81% trust German Chancellor Angela Merkel to do the right thing, as compared to the 11% who trust Mongo—all of the latter are grievously ill, and need to be placed At Once into a Facility.

The poll also disclosed that more people trust Howdy Doody to guide world affairs, than Mongo, and that the vast majority “would sleep better at night” knowing that Charles Manson was the president, rather than Mongo.


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