Haley Barbour will not be running for the presidency of these here U-nited States of America. Seems he couldn’t find the requisite fire in the belly, and to be fair, it must’ve been quite the hunt.
“I shore thought it was in here some’eres,” said Barbour, sloshing through rancid puddles of barbecue, bourbon, fatback, moonshine, sowbelly, grits and nicotine-drenched jism from Big Tobacco. “Mebbe some nigra stole it.”
Goes to show you how much times have changed since I was a sprout. I remember when you couldn’t find a white guy who would give a black man a job. Now it seems you can’t find one with the balls to take one from him.
Mad Blog Media 
Well, to be fair, Obama is after all half white.
Ah, but which half? There, I’ve run rings around your logic. And now it’s time for the penguin on top of your television set to explode.
“Number 22…the nipple!”
Patrick — Your virtual tour of Barbour’s stomach is surely the funnniest thing I’ve seen so far this week. Thanks!
John, my pleasure. Glad you enjoyed it. Even a blind dog finds a Milk-Bone now and then, eh? It feels as though I liberated the basic concept from the last bit in Woody Allen’s “Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex (But Were Afraid To Ask).” There are lots of weird bits floating around in my skull.
Thanks for all the weird bits, it makes life more normal?
Charley,
The suspicion is the floating weirdness bits keep the normal bits cowed and backed into a corner. They do a damn fine job of it too.
Maybe some of the repugs are getting sated and just don’t need to go around terrorizing those not in their herd?