One fine day..... a nimrod suggested between pork chops, that love is just a memory of a time of slow steamed honeyed figs and muddy footprints. Through countless fruitless editions, punctuated with occasional gasps of delight and shrieks of raucous audience guffaws, that circulated througout they sporadically appended as they dared to ingest vast amounts of Kool-aid laced with vodka, until she turned into a wonkette.
But a senator who shouldn't have unzipped his pants confronted the President crying out, "I'm Up for re-election!"
"No, Dick, you're not the decider."
Limply walking away, a turgid thought impossible as he lifted the skirt of first lady's pink, lacy knickers amidst adolescent snickers, he parted the fringes of her curly bangs, but that was not really her hair.
Meantime, back at the undisclosed location, the world's most secretive, unpopular vice Eunuchtary Executive dangled his storied namesake, cursing nitroglycerin's contraindications and started the penile prosthesis pumping. Amidst gasps and snickers, Rove's spin came all unspun in a most unpredictable way.
The Rovian hairpiece flew onto the plate of Michelle Merkin's maternal grandmothers favorite Irish stew where Psychic Cat simmered. Gonzales scooped Psychic freshly killed possum, fenny snake fillet, they screamed ole! Clicking their castanets, Gonzales denied everything and fled from proud Hispanics everywhere only to open a waterboarding franchise in competition with mudwrestling with good saucy Mexican food, free chips, prostitutes au gratin, and delicious draft microbrews.
Vouchers were distributed until the police was excluded since . . .
Meanwhile, at Guantanamo Alberto's tortured dreams flipped a flop causing Al to suddenly remember everything. So he called National Inquirer, and Spilled his guts softly breathing a tortured sigh. "Why was killing retarded in the first Texas Bush administration?" And yet now regrets not torturing more before he became the "decider" and blindly entered The Twilight Zone where Burgess Meredith and his band struck up a smokin little ditty.
A vaguely familiar mood came over the crackling airwaves amidst an array of bandaged aliens sporting brightly colored Hawaiian shirts and CDs by The Flying Burrito Brothers. And so with scads of ado, scabs of doodoo, slabs of caribou, Sobs from who? Scooby from Doo says, "What y'all, Its Scooby Doo!"
The penile prosthesis surged pointlessly into . . .
the oblivion of