Quickie Friday: Giulikerik, John Gibson, and Bush's Jacket:

Giulikerik: Are you fuckin' kiddin' here, Rudy? No, seriously, and, c'mon, is that the best defense you can muster about your longtime companion Bernard Kerik? That you "made a mistake" when you recommended that a mob-connected, corrupt, bribe-takin' wad of fuck be the first person to be in charge of the largest government department ever created?

Then, to top it all off, you offered this rejoinder to critics who would point out that your relationship with Kerik makes you a thug-lovin' piece of shit: "But I think they can then look at the results that I had as United States Attorney, the results I had as Associate Attorney General, and most importantly the results that I had as Mayor and say to themselves: if he makes the same balance of right decisions and incorrect decisions as president, the country would be in pretty good shape."

Giuliani was informed that Kerik had lobbied for city contracts to go to a mob-tied company, and he still appointed him police commissioner. Bernard Kerik banged his mistresses in an apartment near Ground Zero that was set aside so the guys who were down in the pit could take a nap. It was after that valiant abuse of public trust that Giuliani recommended Kerik to the Bush administration.

Some mistakes are bigger than others, Rudy. Some mistakes outweigh piles of alleged good. If the hooker you're strangling while you're banging her dies, the fact that a hundred other hookers lived when you choked them doesn't balance the scales. Hell, the fact that you donated thousands of dollars to legless war orphans doesn't balance the scales. If you gobble criminal cock like a Sioux City twink in the bathroom at DC's in Omaha for the first time, don't be surprised if you wake up sticky and stinking of spooge.

John Gibson Looks Like a Homeless Man: The Rude Pundit is haunted by an image he saw at a mall recently. He saw John Gibson, Fox "news" commentator and O'Reilly without the ratings, walking around, doing that Dawn of the Dead stagger, carrying a bag from Kohl's. He was without make-up, with his ample hair grayer and without product wagging around his head like rat tails, wearing clothes that could best be described as "old man chic." Thinking that this wreck of a human could not be the swaggering fucktard who says things like "[A] published report today said that homelessness is virtually over. People may have crushing mortgages, but they have homes," the Rude Pundit surreptitiously passed through the Zane's to take a second look.

On that pass, we made eye contact; he had the sad eyes of a man whose sins have crushed him. And the vaguely panicked look that he had been recognized. You may ask why the Rude Pundit didn't say something, you know, rude to him. Because, seeing Gibson in person, shorter than you'd think, paunchy, bedraggled, pathetic, really, he decided this desiccated shell of a man wasn't worth the effort. You can't hurt a corpse.

Photos That Make the Rude Pundit Want to Smoke Shrooms While Chugging Cheap Mezcal:

Proper caption? "Hey, thanks for the jacket, old man. Now, how about givin' me one of yer fuckin' legs?"