Twisted Sex Fiend Joe Scarborough Confesses His Fantasy of Seeing Caligutard Sucking His Mother’s Face

I am about to hurl.

Go for it. Check out the tape from the show.

I think I’ll pass on lunch now.

Barbara Bush = the guy on the Quaker Oats label.

@redmanlaw: Hehehehehehe. How did she marry Poppy? Get him in a headlock or something?

I’m not feeling well today and this isn’t helping.

*faints*

Please oh please say he was talking about H.W.

@redmanlaw:
Ugh. I’m going to have to buy Cream of Wheat now.

The thought of someone making out with his own grandma makes me feel soft in the groinal area.

The resurrected cartoon Futurama touched on that with the episode “Roswell That Ends Well.”

Prof Farnsworth: “Oh, a lesson in history from mister I’m-my-own-grandpa! Let’s just get the heck outta here! Screw history!”

FCS: I say we go the full House of Atreus route. Have Babs eat barbecued W. If you’d like to throw in a little Oedipal schtupping before she roasts and eats him, fine by me. When in doubt about fabulous retribution, looks to the ancient Greeks.

@Mistress Cynica: Please. I beg of you. Leave me something. They are to the House of Atreus what Star Wars is to Hamlet : Nothing!

There can be no retribution for Bush because it will be impossible to ever make him understand that he did anything – shall we say – wrong. To be punished one must understand that there has been a crime. And that one has committed it. And that one must pay.

Unless “clearing Bush” has taken on a meaning I can’t dare think about.

And all those long months he spent stripped to the waist, sweating under the hot sun, when his mommy brought him soothing glasses of temperance beverages spiked – how could he know! – with a drug devised by Cheney to sap Democrats of their will.

She sets it down and admires her brawny son, his broad back glistening, rippling under the Texas sun. How little the rest of the world understands her! How could anyone think that dull, bloated Jeb, with all his scrawling Mexicali brats, could ever be her favorite!
“Junior!” She calls to him. She hopes his FBI guards didn’t hear the crack in her voice. “Honey, come here and drink this.”
She knows he’ll drink it. When has he ever refused her before?
She watches him set down his chainsaw to run the back of his hand across his forehead. He shakes off beads of sweat. The sun catches them as they fall, turning each of them to tiny prisms refracting the noontime sun.
He’s coming toward her.
God! How she loves that lop-sided grin! She admires the way his button-fly blue jeans hug his hips. How they show off that bulge at his crotch. How glad she is she stopped him wearing those faggy boxer-briefs that Laura favored and got him to go commando. Was that bulge at his crotch growing as he approached? And was she seeing the outline of his rigid shaft growing down his left leg, straining against the denim?
He was the child of her heart. The fruit of her loins. Why shouldn’t the flesh she made now return to its home? Why was that wrong?
When Poppy caught her bathing Junior, that time she couldn’t resist plunging her hand into the milky water to grasp his throbbing manflesh, she’d promised not to cross any generational/incest boundaries again. But why? Why should she be denied the one thing that would make her life complete?
“Hey, momma.”
He was so near her now. She could feel his hot breath on her cheek. Almost against her will she lifted her hand to let it rest where the denim caressed his butt, allowing one finger to burrow its way in, followed by another and then another. She knew what he liked and she’d brought her black 12 incher “Colin Powell” ass buster with her. Was that an accident? Or had she hoped to meet her youngest son, her sweetest, most fuckable son. The one whose taut, tan, muscular thighs she loved to spread so she could….

Aaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrghhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!

I’m confused. Which George (41 or 42) is he talking about and which Barbara (geezer or sleazer)? The grossout potential on this one is endless.

@Jamie Sommers: Aaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!

No but the commando jeans and teh sweat. Hottest preznint since Buchanan.

@Jamie Sommers: It’s the Caligutaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaard! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!

WTF ?????????

@Benedick:

MY EYES! MY EYES!

(grabs pencils with both hands and begins furiously gouging…)

@Original Andrew: Darling, you know you want him. You want to look deep in his eyes as tosses his towel over his shoulder after his workout and he’s heading for the showers.

And his thick and juicy manjoint leaks its syrup on your thigh as he pushes you against the wall to spread your legs as he whispers , “momma, momma”…

@Benedick: My man, he is certainly a momma’s boy, from all the evidence, though she neglected and abused him, ain’t that the way, the one’s with the worst mothers are the one’s most desperate for Momma’s approval.

But you know, I am sure you know, that he never dared to admit to himself his desire to schtup mommie.

Thats what his boys are for. Thats what the marine prostitute was for, thats what that mayor is for.

Does he lust for the manflesh because he doesn’t want to betray his mommy by fucking another woman?

@Promnight: Or he wants to unbuckle his belt and hand it over to mommie. His “Mission Accomplished” belt. Mommie don’t like her boy to be boasting what he didn’t do. That makes baby Jebus cry. Mommie gonna strap on big black powell reamer to make boy dubya bite his pillow just like jebbie.

we fuck you so you are fucked