Our complete story so far...
One fine day..... a nimrod suggested between pork chops, that love is just a memory of a time of slow steamed honeyed figs and muddy footprints. Through countless fruitless editions, punctuated with occasional gasps of delight and shrieks of raucous audience guffaws, that circulated througout they sporadically appended as they dared to ingest vast amounts of Kool-aid laced with vodka, until she turned into a wonkette.
But a senator who shouldn't have unzipped his pants confronted the President crying out, "I'm Up for re-election!"
"No, Dick, you're not the decider."
Limply walking away, a turgid thought impossible as he lifted the skirt of first lady's pink, lacy knickers amidst adolescent snickers, he parted the fringes of her curly bangs, but that was not really her hair.
Meantime, back at the undisclosed location, the world's most secretive, unpopular vice Eunuchtary Executive dangled his storied namesake, cursing nitroglycerin's contraindications and started the penile prosthesis pumping. Amidst gasps and snickers, Rove's spin came all unspun in a most unpredictable way.
The Rovian hairpiece flew onto the plate of Michelle Merkin's maternal grandmothers favorite Irish stew where Psychic Cat simmered. Gonzales scooped Psychic freshly killed possum, fenny snake fillet, they screamed ole! Clicking their castanets, Gonzales denied everything and fled from proud Hispanics everywhere only to open a waterboarding franchise in competition with mudwrestling with good saucy Mexican food, free chips, prostitutes au gratin, and delicious draft microbrews.
Vouchers were distributed until the police was excluded since . . .
Meanwhile, at Guantanamo Alberto's tortured dreams flipped a flop causing Al to suddenly remember everything. So he called National Inquirer, and Spilled his guts softly breathing a tortured sigh. "Why was killing retarded in the first Texas Bush administration?" And yet now regrets not torturing more before he became the "decider" and blindly entered The Twilight Zone where Burgess Meredith and his band struck up a smokin little ditty.
A vaguely familiar mood came over the crackling airwaves amidst an array of bandaged aliens sporting brightly colored Hawaiian shirts and CDs by The Flying Burrito Brothers. And so with scads of ado, scabs of doodoo, slabs of caribou, Sobs from who? Scooby from Doo says, "What y'all, Its Scooby Doo!"
The penile prosthesis surged pointlessly into the oblivion of category five surges and black holes. Then a man became a woman and she grew abundant ripe tomatoes that oozed juices when delicately squeezed over the head of a prtotuberant adolescence with a cowlick located just below his ear. “Twas a matter of grave and callous depravity to all involved with Wolfowitz dictum that ended in pain.
"Why?" bemoaned General Jerry Boykin as he stepped onto the Kaba he knelt and opened a big bottle of Oban only to find a hidden microphone stashed in his top hat and said, "Smoke that cube for Osama Right Honorable Schlack. Going, you neocon, gets weird inhaling. Its time to pack it up. Boykin signals skyward, shyly indicating his disappearing blue balloon.
Fundyban tractor beam is the solution Then a Homeland Security Agent, feeling extremely authoritarian, grabbed his shiny though bulbous nose and went 'Honk!'
"Gesundheit!" said the President of Lithuania. as he flushed a Cuban cigar down Lewinski's toilet . Toilet she said? And he said, "I asked nicely seat down PLEASE. But that's not the mission accomplicated isn't my agenda," It was Barney who hid the old Rover's bone from Jeff Gannon. He yelled out where's Ted's haggard and bring me meth and man Ass on a...
Sunday morning here and time for a bloody Mary with my grits and Yankee friends! She shudders convulsively, bacon grease dripping off her flip-flops (grit high formal-ware) stripped neked in preparation for services of a "real" old time snake-handling church of the holy rigid members led by Pastor Castor, the Disaster Master baiter who rubbed his hands around his snake which proved fake but more real than stuffed armadillos
She said lordy! during the transubstantiation I need libation , a large donation swallow the leader more the meatier Yahhl Catholics now witness others holier embrace the Ewecharist stone the Satanist . The Holy Mega-bong of righteous salvation smoke and ashes.
The next day, a hermit carrying a peace pipe and mumbling incoherently about President Bush Man of Swaziland as he's known amongst close friends who don't know Swish from Swazz, finally emerged from the Bechuanaland embassy men’s' room, tapping gently on my chamber door, Quoth The Rover. Unfortunately the raven-haired hermit unaware reality existed sat meditating on the ejection seat misfired yet again.
Damn he said meanwhile the snake-handling Rovian mad scientist Screamed "ITS ALIVE" Choking the constrictor so to speak fighting the inevitability of an outraged undercover policeman urinating on the tarmac of Minneapolis/St. Paul Airport.
Meanwhile, over at Larry's Lizard Lounge, holy rigid members limply limped sideways checking waxy protuberances looking for wicks to wet, Sticky wickets being best for pitching crickets found only in certain unsavory places. the British abandoned but then countermanded Thatching her Falkland awning from Aukland. yawning from Yorkshire Dorsetshire, Wiltshire, and Hampshire hurricanes hardly happen but often fatten more often flatten lyrics by Clapton. got me on my knees for heaven's sake drain the lake Layla please take it. You'll love bell bottom blews which don't loose color fading away because that would loose this feeling gotta go to work ,so to speak, on the tag-team for a better whiter, brighter smile brush with Comet.
Ouch that hurts! Torture should hurt only when used by a qualified Purple People Eater twirling his eggbeater in creamy batter that doesn't splatter or get sticky. It doesn't matter who screams loudest only who gets most outta it!
The giant serpent, personal friend to Adam and Steve pondered the eggbeater neither had eggs, or wooden legs to stand on.
Like Viviparous Snakes with nasty shakes avoided more doggerel lavatory tap-dance advances, from Pastor Disaster and his charming fur lined cod-piece, fur harvested from organically-raised gerbils from his niece's Bush combed locks.
Meanwhile, anticipating two overweight Scotsmen waddled their way down Essex Quay eating haggis they saw Bono and Cher of course before the divorce and brain damage from slippery slopes from Tuna Hotdish! pulling a bono strolling along Liffey smelling the roses, hearing U2's "Gloria” in excellcious deodorant.
The English bulldog cocked its AK-47 and headed a football across to help Michigan. but alas it was too late. Much too late. Midnight.
The pumpkin was not needed 4+20 blackbirds filled philosophy of collectivism Hegeling with Rousseau tapping for Mandingo born Frederick Lamont (favorite stall neighbor of Larry Craig).
Good grief y'all its twew its true. I'm tapping for Mandingo. Of course, the downside to this caucus filabuster cloture is the reality of Bush's delusions that he is the Grandmaster of Up or Down, left or right.
Just remember this, nothin' from nothin' leaves nothin'. Except Craig left holding a loitering ticket.
