Not Even Stinky Finger for Psychogeezer on The Bus; Pouts & Shuns Talibunny
Robert Draper in his ‘In the Home Stretch’ column at Blog GQ wrote this week that the Psychogeezer and the Talibunny weren’t talking any more. Their disaffection for each other had reached an apex in which the Psychogeezer refused to sit with the Talibunny during a recent extended stretch on the road with the campaign.
At least that is the way the story was relayed to him but who really knows? The Talibunny may have reorganized her alliances around any number of future scenarios and lined up Psychogeezer stalwarts for her 2012 campaign and begun alienating everyone who didn’t prove apparently useful for her plans, in good auld Talibunny style. Here’s Draper’s tale:
I’ve heard from one well-placed source that McCain has snubbed her on one long bus ride aboard the Straight Talk Express, to the embarrassment of those sitting nearby. It has surely been implied to the governor that she should be eternally grateful to have been plucked from obscurity.
The Talibunny has made it abundantly clear she wants to rip the old man’s heart out and eat it in front of him and then go and lead the Adkisson Brigades herself, finding her true calling as a fascist instigator and leader of the desperate, impoverished insane legions of halfwits who’ve bought the line that conservatism really means constructing a hyper-militarized theocratic kleptocracy thatSW bankrupts America before driving it into apocalyptic war.
Things began going sour on the Straight Talk Express early on in the relationship. During the Summer, they’d hold hands. Kiss when the sun went down and, in the dead of night, the Talibunny would give Psychogeezer stinky finger but refused his feeble attempts to push her head into his lap. The Psychogeezer was patient, believing Talibunny would finally show her gratitude with a resplendent blow job before the campaign ended and that glow of appreciation would enhance his manly mien and his appeal to voters, beguiled by his vigor.
Then, on a long stretch of road between Aurora, Missouri and Great Bend, Kansas, the Psychogeezer awoke in the pre-dawn hours, startled by the sounds of grunting. Across the aisle, campaign manager Rick Davis was sprawled across two seats with his pants around his knees, his can of Keystone Light spilled beneath his seat. Talibunny was kneeling in the aisle, savagely gobbling his schlong. Psychogeezer pretended to sleep, wept in silence and stifled his rage.
Psychogeezer bit his tongue in the days after when Davis would talk about Talibunny’s glowing future to the press corps on the bus. The Talibunny would play the eager political ingenue, offering up a dismissive, self-effacing chuckle and a beaming smile to Davis now, Psychogeezer thought, already planning the Talibunny’s 2012 run.
I paid for the fucking bus, Psychogeezer would think, I didn’t even get head and now she’s auditioning her 2012 campaign staff on my nickel. Despairing, Psychogeezer would retire with his Readers Digest and Parodi to the bus shitter where the ghost of Barry Goldwater lurked in the toilet.
Goldwater told him one recent morning on the Straight Talk Express, startling him from reading the ‘Laughter is the Best Medicine’ column, “You know, you were always a childish dolt, but the Talibunny takes the cake. I wouldn’t fuck that fascist whack job with your dick much less let her run around on my dime representing any of her ravings as ‘conservatism,’ you pathetic twit.”