The Week Everything Fell Apart Again
It’s Friday, I’m in love (with Barry Soetoro!). Let’s celebrate the end of another week in which two unwinnable wars continued unabated and Asian schoolchildren are still smarter than your bloated autism-chic grease-coated offspring will ever be! I’m buying a round of IEDs for all y’all up in this par-tay, and you know what that means: SAKE BOMBS! Woot woot! Woot woot!
This week was fucking rad. Remember when President Obama tore off Stanley McChrystal’s entire epidermis because Stan was acting like a little bitch and telling mean jokes to his Army boyfriends? Now Rahm Emanuel wears that skin, in the shower at the gym, where he is waiting to be Jew-Raptured to the Heaven that is Chicago mayoralty.
Another great happening occurred when Tony Hayward’s Roomba bumped into Underwater Oileyjafjallajokull and made it explode harder. BP swore it would fix the thing, but before it capped that ass there were like eighteen bajillion gallons of crude vomited back into the sea. Even though Tony is no longer the head douche in charge of saying terrible things to Gulf-area humans, many ex-subsistence-shrimpers would like to cut his dick off, which the New York Times says is maybe not such a bad thing!
Fol-de-rol, and and so it goes, another week gone by and nary an Osama found. Afghanistan, the Good War ™, is somehow now even more of a scrumblybumblyfuck than The Iraq, so our nation’s media says. If this is a true lie, why has Kathryn Bigelow not made a sun-washed, tensely paced film about the erotic bomb dismantlers of Kabul? Also, Obama’s eyes continue to shine with the promise of a new tomorrow, so I am hopeful that this will all be over by Chanu-mass.
Have a lovely weekend, Wonketteers. I’m spending my weekend in Real America, the Appalachian Mountains of North Carolina. Actually, I’m headed to the People’s Republic of Asheville, where the lesbians grow thick and wild and white men with dreadlocks roam under the full moon eclipse, searching for magic mushrooms and holy crystals and a nice place to smoke the dank, brah.
It is true that Osama bin Laden hides in the mountains -- these mountains, the Blue Ridge portion of the Appalachians, not far from the Great Smokies. Osama is in deep cover as a lesbian massage therapist with an MFA in poetry. I am going to get a combination Reiki/shiatsu treatment at his deceptively folksy spa-cave, and then I am going to take him down, like Stanley McChrystal and Joseph Biden and George W. Bush and Donald Rumsfeld and Dick Cheney never have and never will. I will bring the head of Hippie Lesbosama bin Laden to Barack Hussein Obama and lo, shall the feasting and dancing last ‘til dawn! SAKE BOMBS! Woot woot! Woot woot!
Sara Benincasa kind of lost it this week. DIDN'T YOU? DIDN'T EVERYBODY? Jesus ....