"SEND LAWYERS, GUNS, AND MONEY"

For my ensuing comments, no doubt, will require the use of all three.

I like reading Dan Savage's column in "Seattle's Only Newspaper," The Stranger, not only because I find him fiercely entertaining, but because he was responsible for the campaign to put "The frothy mix of lube and, etc. etc." in the #1 spot in a google search for "Santorum." Thanks little buddy. This week's Savage Love column deals with the psychological impact of small penises--or at least the perception of having a small penis--on the poor, poor dear men who sport these microphalli. They have trouble with self esteem, they sometimes exhibit self-aggrandizing behavior, they often have trouble maintaining healthy relationships, and so on. It's a tragic but classic psychological syndrome.

Why do I bring this up? Well, the thrilling events of the past 36 hours (up to and including the umpteenth time in my short life I've had to jump up on the kitchen table stark naked shouting, "SUCK IT, VIRGINIA!!" Way to go, Jimmy Webb!), have left me in a strange haze of uncertainty. What will happen to my great nation now? How did we ever get into this jam in the first place? How, indeed.

When Rumsfeld got his ass booted from the Pentagon (finally, sweet Jesus), my roommate joked, "I wonder how satisfied W is with his performance now?" Boingoingoing!

Unsatisfied? Self-aggrandizing behavior? Trouble maintaining healthy relationships?

Sure he's a mass-murdering fuckhead, but when I look at that sad, sad old man, I don't see the worst Secretary of Defense since the Ford administration (he hee!). All I see is the shadow of a poor, poor, microphallicitous Bob Dole shilling for Viagra. The shame of old age, the 'infirmity' of seniority; it drove Hunter Thompson to shoot himself in the head rather than suffer the indignity of primogeniture (his ashes, shortly after, were fired from a giant cannon, sort of securing his place as one of the baddest motherfuckers in town. These are the lengths you must go...).

So let's not gloat over the recent victories in tha' House and Senate, because at the end of the day, it's all about who in the Executive has the oldest, wrinkliest, most shriveled-ist whithered cock and balls among the rest.

And yea, that scares me just as much as it scares you. Clinton '08!

P.S. Rummie's from EVANSTON!