Well, I’d say this ought to park the mythical Moderate Republican right alongside Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster and the Easter Bunny.
It won’t, of course. But it should.
Good God almighty. A skeleton has more guts than this lot.
The Lord High Mayor of Slobbiton, Douche Baggins, addressed the people this fair morn.
He announced that Iran “appears to be standing down,” and declared that Slobbiton stood ready “to embrace peace with all who seek it,” especially if they happen to be porn stars (there’s nothing like embracing a piece of a porn star).
He also denied rumors that Slobbiton would resume conscripting young Slobbitonians for its various misadventures abroad, adding that even if such an order were to be issued, it would be easily dodged.
“Trust me,” he said with a knowing wink. “I ran, and you can too.”
Ho, ho. It seems the Albuquerque Police Department has copped to a few “inaccuracies” in its crime stats.
As pictures go, this is on a par with Leonardo da Vinci admitting that Mona Lisa was actually a dude, and a car-stealing serial killer to boot.
In a chat with the Urinal, Mayor Tim Keller spake thusly:
“The mirror doesn’t lie and the mirror says violent crime is up, and that’s a huge problem, but it also says that property crime and auto theft are down. I don’t think it’s about people believing one thing or another, I think it’s just what your definition of crime is. And we have always said that crime is the biggest problem in our community and that continues to be the case.”
Boy, I’ll bet he’d like to walk that one back now that it’s limping down the street with a bullet wound, trying to find its stolen car.
The good news: It can take the bus! And for free, too. If you overlook the $133 million startup charge, that is.
We’ve had “Scarface,” “Joe Bananas,” and “Ice Pick Willie.”
So, whaddaya think Rudy Giuliani’s mob nickname is?
Leave your best guess, and the gun, in comments. But take the cannoli.
As I was getting set to hop in the shower last night I saw movement in my peripheral vision, and holy shit, there was a largish vinegaroon, lurking down by the baseboard near the sink.
I clapped a plastic chile container over him (or her), slid a record album underneath (Stray Cats, “Built for Speed”), and ferried her (or him) out the front door.
We don’t like having scary things scuttling around and about in our house, and we remove them with a minimum of violence as quickly as we are able, because nobody who lives in our house is a fucking idiot.
Speaking of which, “What do we want? When do we want it?” Seriously? Jesus, people, find a new hymn to sing. That’s got as much white hair in its ears as “Hey hey, ho ho.”
Mad Blog Media 