Oklahoma protests its loss yesterday as the State Most Welcome to Secede:

Arthur Sedille was up-front with police: He would often put a gun to his wife’s head during fantasy sex play at their Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, home.

But Sedille said he didn’t know the gun was loaded when he pressed it to his wife’s head and pulled the handgun’s slide back during sex on the night of December 21.

Remember the first rule of sexual firearms, kids: Keep your booger-hook off the bang switch.

Oklahoma man says wife’s death was sex fantasy accident [CNN, via Dodgerblue]

“In the future, Lee is likely to attract a little more attention. In fact, he just might be the platonic ideal for the new Constitution-obsessed, Tea Party-infused GOP: a lawyer who knows how to muster constitutional arguments to justify extreme ideas — and do it with a surprisingly genial, rational disposition. If, going forward, the Tea Party movement wants a national leader who doesn’t scream crackpot, Mike Lee is likely to be the guy.” [TNR, via Political Wire]

“The other day, as we were musing around a conference table, someone asked a straight forward and seemingly naïve question: why don’t people read print newspapers as much as they once did?”
—INMA

• Inky fingers.
• Parade no longer dependable source of cutting-edge content.
• Publishers censored controversial Family Circus strips one too many times.

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Our most prestigious award honors an individual who, through sheer diligence of assitude year in and year out, has earned the right to join the Pantheon of American Infamy. Only Crystal Douchebag winners qualify for the upcoming Stinque Grand Tour of Grave Pissing, to be scheduled as soon as enough honorees do us the favor of departing This Mortal Coil. (Note to reservation-holders: Lack of pulse does not qualify.)

While the Producers considered drawing out the moment by inviting past Douches to introduce this year’s nominees, they realized it might qualify as torture to drag out today’s ceremony any longer. (That, plus we don’t want to bump Kimmel beyond our audience’s bedtime, and lose our advertiser guarantees.)

So join us in a round of warm round of spite for Newt Gingrich, Joe Lieberman, John McCain, Pat Robertson, and Antonin Scalia. You’re all worthy of Black Roses, but only one of you gets the Thorn.

And the winner is…

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Here’s all you need to know: Joe Lieberman, two-time winner of the Golden Anal Pear, is attempting the first threepeat of the Stinque Awards, after which we would be obligated hang his sorry ass from the rafters. Can he do it? Will this be the moment you share with your grandchildren, like Nixon’s resignation and the M*A*S*H finale?

Or will Joe be denied by Glenn Beck, master of the Demon Blackboard? Jan Brewer, mistress of the Death Panel? Pam Geller, micturator of the “Ground Zero Mosque”? Mitch McConnell, whom a Nominator warned might actually enjoy having his ass reamed by a medieval torture implement?

And the winner is…

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America harvested a bumper crop of Wingnuts this year, and if winnowing the nominees to five finalists now was challenging, we shudder to think what the process will look like next year — we may need to mount a new competition that begins in January with the House Republican Caucus, and winds up in December with a scream-off between the Final Two.

While our producer rushes off to hit up Coke for sponsorship money, let us consider Sharron Angle, whose Second Amendment Solutions fended off Chickens for Checkups in the Harry Reid Invitational; Michele Bachmann, whose fear of the Census led to fantasies of her own seat being eliminated; Mike Lee, proud leader of an army of clones who will crush you; Christine O’Donnell, who is Not a Witch; and Rand Paul, who demonstrated how quickly even Libertarians will sell out if given the chance.

And the winner is…

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People keep insisting that Democrats accomplished things this year, and we keep replying that labeling something “reform” doesn’t make it so — especially in light of extra-Constitutional Senate rules that Democrats too often accepted as given, instead of making an issue out of them. We’ll grant that in the end you still needed Olympia Snowe to sign off on anything to git ’er done, but we resist the nasty habit of capitulation as the first move.

And so, who to blame: Barack Obama, because fish rot from the head? Harry Reid, who only survived his re-election because his opponent was batshit crazy? Or Evan Bayh, who’d rather quit than fight?

And the winner is…

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