It’s Mourning in America

The Embarkation for Canada.

You may have noticed that we recently had an election. The results of which seem to have taken a lot of people by surprise. In particular our teabagger friends who seem to be going so far as unfriending those suspected of harboring Democrat (sic) tendencies and refusing to speak to relatives at Thanksgiving. (BTW, that, I think is the single funniest posting I’ve yet read combining as it does a truculent narcissism coupled with ignorance worthy of Trump. I have my doubts that that whole site is all an elaborate hoax.) Despair has been experienced. America has been declared dead. Gays are running amok. We’ve turned into Europe (as if). Any day now we can expect the mass exodus to Canada.

What puzzles me is why anyone was surprised. Josh Marshall thought the same. He even began to wonder if all the talk of being blindsided was preparing the way for some Republican plot. But had to finally reckon that yes, they really were that dumb. Or does he? Maybe all the swagger was to pre-spin the outcome so that Romney didn’t look like such a pathetic dweeb.

Now we have talk of secession (as if) and the beginnings of the drive to impeach the president for violating the constitution by getting himself re-elected. Everyone is concerned about messaging, and some propose infiltrating Hollywood to promote right-leaning films. It seems that Batman, Iron Man, or X-Men aren’t enough. If all else fails, we will hold our breath till our face turns blue.

Anyhow, we’re all very upset. Except those of us who aren’t.


I should have known Benedick would write a post. I watched “The Spy Who Loved Me” last night (the great James Bond tie in with the whole SkyFall/Ball marketing.)

UnskewedPolls was more about GOPer denial than Demrat number juggling.

Please proceed, fucktards.

Saw “Argo” last night, thought Alan Arkin stole the show.

I haven’t had time yet, Benedick, to click on all the links you provide (and may not ever get to them all), but I was amused by “Despair has been experienced.” So I clicked on that one. I almost feel sorry for the poor mutt who wrote “Why I Despair.” He’s been so brainwashed by the poor company he keeps that he really does believe that the universe, the UNIVERSE, mind you, is going to hell in a handbasket because one of the few grown-ups in political life has been reelected to the presidency.

That first link has got to be satire. Possibly very subtle, possibly not even conscious. But really? You’re going to disown every D-leaning friend/relation/wife/girlfriend you have? (I note he didn’t list husbands and boyfriends as possible break-up targets, hmm.) You’re going to shit on the lawn of your neighbor? All it would have taken to make that post complete would be some New Testament reference.

@IanJ: He was some kind of official on the Ron Paul campaign. He has also written follow ups. Now he’s going Galt. I, on the other hand, am going to the mall.

@lynnlightfoot: His grasp of Brit history is shake to say the least.

@Mistress Cynica: Darn, missed that one.

But with Socialized Medicine lurking everywhere they go, the only available choice for Wingnuts is Somalia.

Speaking of which, I’ve been spending some time at NRO so you don’t have to … you’re welcome… and I must confess myself to be shocked. I had always imagined it to be a place where conservative intellectuals, whoever they might be, come together to discuss the finer points of voter suppression conservative thought, whatever that is. Not but srsly, I thought it would at least be respectable and somewhat dull. Turns out it’s birther/wingnut/conservatard/paultard central. I’m beginning to think that if one repeats the phrase ‘Fiscally responsible’ more than five times the back half of one’s brain shrivels to the size of Limbaugh’s scrotum. Didn’t there used to be thinking, thoughtful people in this country who voted Republican? No, don’t laugh. John Huntsman, par example. Il avait le gravitas enorme. Et le résumé formidable.

But no. NRO is strictly white folk talking jive.

@Benedick: I was playing “Cards Against Humanity” this weekend, a sort of Apples to Apples for people like us, and one of the answer cards was “Rush Limbaugh’s soft, shitty body” or something like that. Great game for parties.

@IanJ: Imagine his belly. No wait, no, do that for me. Gay to gay. Imagine that pressing against you, clammy and chill. His tiny penile appendage searching for the dark soft moistness of love, worm-like, Cialis enhanced. Imagine her thoughts.

Imagine her thoughts.

Imagine her thoughts.

The lard slopping about on her thighs. Slup, slup, slup. The failed erections. The unfortunate underwear stained yellow and brown. Does it make up for orange juice on the terrace at Palm Beach – glare off the ocean, dark glasses not hiding eyes swollen from crying, knowing the staff knows the score having been there before.

The shopping.

Prada completes one.

The watching from the bed at the end of a long day as he lowers his trousers to expose the XXLarge calvins encasing that great double globe of crepuscular flesh as he reaches back, parting the pillows of flesh to apply Preparation H. Which makes her think of Maximillian, the waiter at the Lausanne Palais D’Or, working his way through law school, waiting table, rowing boats on the lake stripped to the waist, conducting weight training classes for men 18 to 23, doing anything he could to return to Montenegro to help his people achieve independence.

How his hard muscle butt filled his pencil-thin pants! How his pecs almost burst his shirt apart… She knows that when tonight Newt turns to her in bed to present his nubbin of flesh she will have to give oral. Given the size of his belly and hte size of his penis how could he ever connect with her vagina? She’s not a 14 year old Costa Rican whore after all.

Oh! And ball licking. Which would be acceptable if one could locate his balls. Though to be fair, for a woman to make her lady parts available to something at full engorgement the size of a Pez dispenser requires extreme agility.

Imagine her thoughts.

Imagine the breath.

The breath that emanates from the hulk of flesh above her, crushing her down, clammy, redolent of dead cow, cigar, scotch, deceit, pastrami sandwich, from the great gasping slobbering avalanche of shite.

Which she must…

And get up and shower. And check her email. And call her mom.

@Benedick: What are you drinking tonight? Can a person buy it in California?

@Benedick: hahaha! You thought NRO was a salon for smart conservatives!!!! Hahahaha! Dude, Katherine Jean Lopez posts for their online site! She makes Maggie Gallagher look intelligent!

(Calmly picks up pencils with both hands and gouges eyes out)

Where’s the Surgeon General when we really need warnings? This awful image is going to leave a mark for a long time.

@Benedick: There have been disappointments, but sleeping with an obese zombie has not been one of them.

@Benedick: Okay, so you got hold of some bad acid. This is what is called a “bad trip.” Go into a darkened room, lie down, and put on a Allman Brothers album*. Everything will be better in 6-8 hours, although there may be flashbacks.

* Actual advice given by ER we called in the 80s when a friend took something that turned out ugly.

@Benedick: full engorgement the size of a Pez dispenser

Insulted our mascot, you have.

@nojo: How oft’s the time Callista’s said Newt’s gone full Pez?

@Benedick: I didn’t know at first if you were talking about Rush or Newt. And I’d like to join ¡Andrew! in gouging my eyes out.

With beardy sky-dude as my witness, I had no idea what horrible depths this thread would plumb. So to speak. Benedick, keep that up, and you’ll never see this ass in chaps, assless or not.

@Benedick: My word! I haven’t seen crépuscule used in over 40 years.

Reading this over I’m impressed by the moderate tone of my invocation of Callistas’s thoughts while watching her husband heave his vast baconish bulk out of the hot tub. Which leads to the thought: What does Callista’s hair do with beachside frizz?

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