So then.

Given my name (Bluey) and the colour of my skin (#336699) anyone could easily assume I was making some kind of political statement. Long-time readers, back from when I was a mere agent of mischief confined to 280 pixel by 280 pixel panels, will no doubt remember that I enjoyed ripping the piss out of the neo-conservatives while they hung onto the reins of power with all the tenacity of a <INSERT STEREOTYPE HERE> in <INSERT FAVOURED HOBBY OF AFOREMENTIONED STEREOTYPE HERE> season. So naturally, seeing said reins of power snatched away from them was something I wanted to see, right? Right?

Well, this mood of jubilation may be all well and good, but you'll forgive me for not joining in the celebrations. For the moment, the power-mongering, the continual invocations of faith as justification for human rights abuses, the pointless sabre-rattling and determination to alienate America from the rest of the planet is in abeyance for a little while at least. Even the French are saying on TV how much they like you, for fuck's sake.

I'm out of a job now. You bastards. Never consider my feelings, do you? Here I am, I've blown I don't know how much money on the John McCain Wheel-o-Rage™ and the Sarah Palin Magic Eight-Ball (guaranteed useless and backward opinions on any situation) and now they're just going to gather dust along with the Michael Dukakis Charisma Container (viewable only through an electron microscope), the Howard Dean Shriek-box (200dB, wear supplied ear plugs before using) and the 10,000 John Kerry Prosthetic Chins I bulk-ordered.

Shit.

Give Peace a Chance.

Once again, it's incumbent upon I, your blue-skinned triple-nippled messiah, to solve all your problems. Honestly. Who'd be me? Ah, well. I can't sit around here being great all day. Let's get on with today's problem, and people: it's a doozy. Let's talk about world peace.

Doesn't look good, does it? The Middle East's been messed up good and proper; Russia's pulled out of the CFE treaty and is sending out long-range bomber patrols just for the sake of telling Britain that they can see our houses from over there. Don't even get me started on American foreign policy over the past few years. Africa's little better; just look at the Sudan or Zimbabwe. How are we to fix this problem? Worldwide revolution? A series of political assassinations? Kidnap the world's leaders, brick them up in a cellar and hope their successors take a hint?

Nahhh! The problem here is that old cliché they use to describe international relations: tension. Everyone's rattling sabres because they're tense. If you want the situation to relax, it follows that the leaders have to relax. Question is: how do you do that? Take them out for a round of drinks? I can't see that happening. And I certainly wouldn't want to go out and get pissed with Putin, Bush and Brown. Especially not when we get to the titty bar. No, relaxation's only part of it. Got to relax them and get them to confront their issues. Sounds touchy-feely and new-agey but it's true. Bear with me here, guys; there's method in my madness.

Problem is, it's going to cost. If you want to help, PayPal me some money and I'll see what I can do. Don't worry; all proceeds will go towards the Buy The World Leaders Two Tons of Amyl Nitrite and Get Them Wasted on Absinthe Appeal. Once the fund hits a couple of hundred K we'll be ready to roll. You think Mugabe's going to be quite so belligerent after he's played catcher to Brown's pitcher? Or if he'll feel so persecuted once he's been the stone a couple of times? There's nothing wrong with the world that a few hours of buggery between several elderly men can't put right.

Originally posted to Slack 'n' Hash on August 21, 2007.