How Badly Does Conservative Spooge Bucket Kevin McCullough Want to Get Fucked by Barack Obama?:
On a Monday, whenever the weekend has ended and one is feeling like one's tongue is covered in tequila-flavored cashmere and one is washing the tangy perfume of pussy out of one's facial hair, whenever a quick review of the transcripts of the Sunday morning gab-gasms stunningly reveals that Obama's supporters support Obama and McCain's supporters support McCain, whenever one has wearied of another barrage of revelations of just how very fucked over we've been over the last seven years (see today's Times or another Seymour Hersh article in the New Yorker), one can always rely on Kevin McCullough over at the right wing clearinghouse of feces-smeared bugfuckery known as Townhall.com to come through with just the right balance of inanity and insanity, wrapped in a tortilla of stupidity, covered in a secret sauce of...well, really, it's just his semen.

In this week's "column" (if by "column," you mean, "an agonizing cry for someone to turn that vibrator in his ass up to 'Rapture'"), McCullough attacks Barack Obama for preaching "the Gospel of Condoms." Now, strangely, that has nothing to do with the Apostle Thomas discovering that the properly-used skin of a lamb allowed him to fuck whores without fear of scabies. No, McCullough says that Obama and others of his ilk (like Henry Waxman) declaim the good of condom usage as if it were given from God. But, and here's McCullough's clever twist, he's being ironic. Why, it's not really a gospel at all.

Oh, yeah, it's fine and dandy to twist facts like McCullough does when he cites recent studies from the World Health Organization and the Centers for Disease Control saying that there's not a pandemic of AIDS and that HIV cases are on the rise again among gay males. No, we expect that. We expect that conservative spooge buckets who love the abstinence (because it's the only way to completely sublimate their queer desire) will be total dicks, as McCullough is when he says, "Ironically enough - behavior and control of one's choices are key to the surge as the headline blared out: HIV Resurges in Men who have sex with Men. Wow, what a sad case of, 'Duh!'"

But it's at that point that the real fun begins. Following the ricocheting Spaldeen of logic, McCullough says, "This has been true since we first began seeing AIDS cases develop. Elected officials should have called for quarantine for the public good..." Yep, McCullough hearkens back to the good ol' days in the 80s when the hysterical little drama queens on the right wanted to confine children who had HIV.

Still, the height of McCullough's derangement is a little later in the column when he goes back to the CDC study, which says, "The jump was highest — an increase of 12.4 percent — among boys and men between the ages of 13 and 24 years who had sex with other males, particularly among ethnic minorities." McCullough puts that fact this way: "The sad thing is that in the CDC's analysis they casually mention that the age group of 'man' that is most at risk presently in the HIV surge are black boys 13-24 years of age." (The racist twist is fun, too, since the largest jump was in Asian/Pacific Islanders, not exactly "black boys.")

There's only one way this could happen in McCullough's sad and narrow world view: "Why are HIV infected adult males raping 13 year old boys? Why are they getting away with it? Why aren't even the most compassionate in the radical homosexual activist ranks condemning the actions?" That's a serious paragraph from McCullough, not a joke. Thirteen year-olds must be getting raped in order for them to get infected because, surely, they wouldn't be having consensual sex with other teenagers. McCullough reaffirms his outrage at the plague of the forced sodomizing of adolescent negroes when he says, "children are literally being raped to death."

How do you even make fun of that? The wonderful thing about McCullough is he's an unwitting parody of conservatism. That's sub-O'Reilly hysteria. It's the kind of logical leap that'd make Aristotle say, "Oh, fuck this," before burning his work and diddling a young boy.

Of course, who else is there to blame other than, you know, the Democrats? And that leads us back to Kevin McCullough's visceral desire to feel Barack Obama's cock tip tickle his uvula, to guzzle the Senator's hot chode like a desperate drunk discovering a hidden bottle of Jack Daniels. Here's how the column ends:

"Barack Obama believes in the Gospel of Condoms. But it is a false gospel - one that exchanges death for a few fleeting seconds of impulse. And not very attractive ones at that."

That last line is McCullough imagining gay fucking. It is an unnecessary addition to the previous line, a little jab that is more revealing than all the words that preceded it. He came to the end of the previous sentence, left with the delicious picture of Obama slowly rolling a condom down his long, brown dick, and, to shove that intense desire out of his mind, he had to say, "It's ugly, yes, it's ugly." Through his self-revulsion, McCullough quickly typed the last line and then slammed his laptop closed repeatedly on his own tiny, tumescent peter so it might lose its need.


Guns, Baby, Guns: More Scalia-Scribed Batshittery:
If words could be tortured, Supreme Court Antonin Scalia would be their Torquemada. For, indeed, Scalia can take the most obvious of phrases or words and place those poor bastards on the rack until their intestines are straightened, shove a red-hot poker up their asses until he can brand "Big Tony" on their colons, and give them a particularly nasty titty-twisting, and, by fuckin' God, those words are gonna give up whatever their obvious and relevant definitions are and let Scalia say what they "really" mean. If you see an OED yelping with its hands over its crotch running down Pennsylvania Avenue, chances are that it's being pursued by demonically puffing, sweaty-robed Scalia holding a nut vice.

For in his majority opinion on the District of Columbia v. Heller gun law case, Scalia teaches us that lives are doomed because the rules of grammar and the definitions of words are interpretable and fluid. Enjoy: "Logic demands that there be a link between the stated purpose and the command. The Second Amendment would be nonsensical if it read, 'A well regulated Militia,being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to petition for redress of grievances shall not be infringed.' That requirement of logical connection may cause a prefatory clause to resolve an ambiguity in the operative clause ('The separation of church and state being an important objective, the teachings of canons shall have no place in our jurisprudence.' The preface makes clear that the operative clause refers not to canons of interpretation but to clergymen.) But apart from that clarifying function, a prefatory clause does not limit or expand the scope of the operative clause...Therefore, while we will begin our textual analysis with the operative clause, we will return to the prefatory clause to ensure that our reading of the operative clause is consistent with the announced purpose."

For want of a Strunk and White, the people of DC (and Chicago and Detroit and etc.) were lost.

And then, seriously, motherfucker goes through the definitions of the words in the phrase "to keep and bear arms." No, no, seriously. For pages and pages: "The 1773 edition of Samuel Johnson’s dictionary defined 'arms' as 'weapons of offence, or armour of defence.'" Or: "At the time of the founding, as now, to 'bear' meant to 'carry.'" It's the jurisprudence version of "Fuck you," which means it's simply par for the course for Scalia.

By the time he gets to the opening of the Second Amendment, "A well-regulated militia," Scalia's not quite as free with the overexplanations: "Finally, the adjective 'well-regulated' implies nothing more than the imposition of proper discipline and training." And, that phrase being anathema to his overarching point, it's all he says about it. Nothing more about what the meaning of "well-regulated" might be from the majority. That's left to the dissenters to say, "Umm, motherfuckers, you left something out."

By the way, other words left out of Scalia's dictionary (and his opinion): "shoot" and "shot" (except in reference to Scalia's favorite substitute for the penis he hasn't seen for decades, his "shot gun") and "kill" (except in reference to game) and "death." Those get in the way of the majority's opinion, which is, "Fuck that inconvenient first clause in the Second Amendment. Go out and buy yourself a Glock, America."

Scalia argues with Breyer's dissent, saying that rights cannot be conditional, as Breyer does when looking at DC's handgun ban, saying that gun violence in a cities might have an effect on regulation. That's quite the contradiction with the Scalia who raped the Fourth Amendment just a week ago or so in his dissent on the Gitmo habeas corpus decision. But, hey, let's give Scalia the point: he's correct that just because shit gets ugly that rights ought not be tossed aside. He's so fuckin' wrong though on what that right actually is.


North Korea's and Iraq's Weapons Declarations: One of These Things Is Exactly Like the Other, Except Not:
Wait, wait, wait a minute here. North Korea submits a weapons declaration to China that might tell us what we want to know about their nuclear weapons programs; as Condoleezza Rice said, "I do think it’s important to note that if we can verifiably determine the amount of plutonium that has been made, we then have an upper hand in understanding what may have happened in terms of weaponisation." You got that? And the result is that it's cool by the Bush administration.

In fact, shit's more than cool. It's downright detenterrific. Said the President, "First, I'm issuing a proclamation that lifts the provisions of the Trading with the Enemy Act with respect to North Korea. And secondly, I am notifying Congress of my intent to rescind North Korea's designation as a state sponsor of terror in 45 days."

Now, if the Rude Pundit remembers his recent history (although, truth be told, these days, shit that happened last year seems about as distant as the tadpole days of a dying frog - such is the result of our American dementia), back in December 2002, there was another member of the Axissss o' Eeeeeevil who made a big ol' weapons declaration, when Iraq "delivered a 12,000-page declaration on banned weapons to the United Nations, meeting a Security Council deadline with more than 24 hours to spare. Officials said the documents confirmed, in rebuttal of American and British claims, that Saddam Hussein's government had no weapons of mass destruction and no current programs to develop them." As the ever dickish Ari Fleischer said at the time, Iraq had issued "what it claims is a declaration of its programs to develop chemical, biological, and nuclear weapons, ballistic missiles, and other delivery systems."

That huge motherfucker, which turned out to be more right than just about every publicly revealed assessment about Iraq's WMDs, was given this prelude by Bush: "We will judge the declaration's honesty and completeness only after we have thoroughly examined it, and that will take some time. The declaration must be credible and accurate and complete, or the Iraqi dictator will have demonstrated to the world once again that he has chosen not to change his behavior."

Now, hey, groovy, man, that actual, honest-to-god, "talking to our enemies" diplomacy has produced results. And, yeah, Bush made sure to say he hasn't gone all pussy on North Korea ("We remain deeply concerned about North Korea's human rights abuses"). But the disjunction is jarring, like that moment when you realize that your parents are carnal creatures who were probably 69ing while you were dreaming of GI Joe adventures.

Who knew there were levels of eeeevil in that axisss? Today, more than ever, the throbbing hard-on this White House had for war with Iraq is a visible tent in their pleated trousers.


All The President's Balls (A Photo Essay):

Yesterday, the President of the United States honored two years worth of NCAA sports champions. From bowling to basketball, mostly he did so by proudly clutching balls and making sure that everyone got a picture.

As was his usual way, George W. Bush praised the team members for their accomplishments off the field, as well as on: "[W]e thank you for your contributions to the communities in which you live. These athletes have volunteered at food banks during holidays; they have visited schools to inspire children with disabilities; they've encouraged literacy and good health; they've raised money to fight cancer. What I'm telling you are -- is they're great athletes and good citizens." That last sentence, with its wistful attempt at English, prioritizes the players there: always citizens last.

Surely, the temptation here is to point out all the awful things going on in the world while Bush was playing with his new balls, like the three dead American soldiers in Mosul, with more injured, who might some day be lucky enough to be visited by college athletes while at Walter Reed or another hospital. But that would be trite. Reductionist. After all, are we not allowed to celebrate the triumphs of youth?

Yet there is something deeply disconcerting in Bush's non-stop grinning throughout. Something disquieting, as if within his heart and soul, he is at peace while so many of us are not.

Maybe that's it. At the end of the day, those of us who despise this man want to see that he suffers. We don't want to hear from him that he cries or prays or any such nonsense. We want to see him doubled over in agony, retching out his guts over what he has done.

But that is not his way. Just like his unimaginably graceless confession about the war in Iraq that his only mistake was in talking tougher than he should have, he simply floats along, blissful, as if he's not only wearing rose-colored glasses, but wearing some kind of goggles that enable him to see unicorns, rainbows, goddamn Care Bears.

For, at the end of the day, a man who is sending people to die should not be allowed to have as much fun as this man has day in, day out, a presidency of non-stop c'est la vie.


The FISA Failure and the Sodomy of the Patriots:
Betsy Ross loved anal. She could not get enough ye olde cocke in her sphincter, especially when she could tickle her pudenda while her buttocks were being reamed. And no one gave her a right round rogering better than Paul Revere. The old horse-riding silversmith would gallop by Betsy's place and the candles in the window would tell all: one if by ass, two if by cunt. Needless to say, unless the sores were acting up, every night was a single flame night at the Ross residence. Hell, Betsy Ross was working on the first flag of the nation while getting sodomized by Paul Revere, and she asked between gulps and yelps what she should use to represent the colonies on the field of blue. "Why, stars, dear Mistress Ross," gasped Revere between thrusts, "for they do remind me of your tight asshole." And stars it was, yes, stars it was.

How do we know about the sexual predilections of two of our more apocryphal figures in the tale of the founding of America? Because the British would open their love notes without any cause or warrant. Why? Because the British could. Indeed, in one Federalist paper or another, James Madison blatantly refers to the Ross/Revere letters as a reason for the Fourth Amendment: "The reasoning is plain and clear: if one man wishes to commune with another man regarding his desire for sodomy, he should be allowed to do so without fear that his private correspondences will be espied upon. This is doubly so should one of those men be a woman. Barring legitimate warrant granted by a court, any man writing of his throbbing need to plunge his John Hancock into a secondary, or, perhaps, a tertiary human hole of pleasure should be guaranteed the knowledge that his desires shall remain between him and his fellow."

If Madison or Benjamin Franklin could, they would bitch slap the Democrats in Congress for legalizing the ability of the President to authorize spying on Americans with no oversight, no cause other than whatever whim the President wants to call an emergency. And to the Republicans who pinched each other's nipples in joy at how the Democrats raised their haunches for easy access, the Rude Pundit hopes you trust the hell out of President Obama.

The Rude Pundit's tired of backwards ass conservative wads of fuck telling him and others on the Left that they are pussies for believing in the Constitution. No, no. See, the right has it completely reversed. It's easy to sit there and say, "You know what? Fuck it. Let those in power do whatever they want under the banner of 'Keeping Us Safe.'" Hell, that flag may as well say, "Tread On Me." We may as well sign that when we pay our bills to the telecoms, who are gettin' a free ride in order to, you know, shut the fuck up about who asked them to violate the law.

The truly complex, difficult position is to say, "No, you sons and daughters of bitches, you don't give up the very things that make us Americans." See, "Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death" isn't a conditional phrase. It ain't "Well, Give Me the Liberties You Think I Oughta Have As Long As It's Balanced With Your Tortured Legalistic Definitions and Limitations On the Constitution, But, Hey, As Long As You Tell Me We're Still Free, It's All Cool, Yo."

Of course, the real disappointment here is Barack Obama and his collapse on all but telecom immunity. It's a bullshit political position, a convenient way of deflecting any snarling McCain attacks, the rhetorical equivalent of driving around in a tank. What Obama is supposed to do in this instance is say, "I'm a tougher motherfucker for standing for the Constitution than for allowing terrorists to dictate how many rights we have."


Alas, Dead Carlin:
You can't imagine how ballsy it was when George Carlin, as a semi-regular guest on the Ed Sullivan Show, decided to go from observational humor guy joking about the coming attractions at movies in 1967 to making genocide jokes in 1968. All the time surrounded by Peggy Lee or Helen Hayes or fuckin' Topo Gigio. By the time we get to 1971 and the dying days of Sullivan's variety show, Carlin was singing to the CBS audience, to the tune of "America the Beautiful":

"O beautiful for smoggy skies
Insecticided grain
For strip-mined mountains majesty
Above the asphalt plain
America! America!
Men sheds his waste on thee
And hides the pines with billboard signs
From sea to oily sea."
(Let us also praise Ed Sullivan, who routinely went to bat against the censors to bring edgier material to America.)

Carlin's transformation from guy-in-suit comic to crazy hippie was the mirror image of the gutting and filleting of the nation in the time of near revolution. Indeed, Carlin's change caused him to lose contracts and, in one bizarro case in Vegas, nearly make an audience riot. They were expecting jokes about how crappy daytime TV was. But if tight-assed early 1960s USA helped kill Lenny Bruce, post-Woodstock America embraced Carlin like a Wall Street trader burning his ties to live on a commune to grow cabbage, smoke good shit, and fuck other fallen squares.

'Cause when he turned, he fuckin' turned, man. Going after Nixon and the Vietnam War with a savage sense of what is truly, morally right and wrong. And despising hypocrisy, whether it was in the idiotic rules of censorship in his "Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television" routine (which spawned the Supreme Court case of the FCC vs. Pacifica Radio, which you'll read about elsewhere today) or, most especially, in religion. Carlin went after religion like a starving wolverine will take down caribou.

On the first episode of Saturday Night Live in 1975, forced to wear a suit by the suits at NBC (which he put over his customary t-shirt), Carlin put into the mainstream these dangerous ideas:
"Now, some religions - which are not to be confused with God - some religions will tell you that it's quite okay not to worry about your own life. Religion has a way of relieving yourself of any responsibility for your acts. It's God's will! 'Oh, I ran over the kid in the driveway, yes, but don't look at me! God's will!' Can't you see a lynch mob going, 'Let's get this guy, God! That's the fourth kid He's killed this week!'

"Religion - religion, at best - at BEST - is like a lift in your shoe. If you need it for a while, and it makes you walk straight and feel better - fine. But you don't need it forever, or you can become permanently disabled. Religion is like a lift in the shoe, and I say just don't ask me to wear your shoes. And let's not go down and nail lifts onto the natives' feet."

Carlin wouldn't appear on the show again until 1984. He had completely pissed off the Archbishop of New York, who called in during the monologue when Carlin said that God is in our image, not the other way around.

No, George Carlin wasn't the funniest of comics (at least not to the Rude Pundit). But he was brave, man, and really smart, sometimes almost too smart. If someone showed him a sacred cow, he'd fuck it. Cocaine abuse, heart attacks, it didn't stop him until yesterday. And he just didn't give a damn because he had a perspective on reality that'd scare the shit out of most people:

"There are two ways to think about this existence we have. One of them is that it's Wednesday and it's three fifteen and we're talking here in my home, and at four o'clock I have to leave for another meeting. Now, that's a reality. But there's another reality. We're in the solar system of a second-rate star, three quarters of the way out on a spiral arm of an average galaxy in a thing called the Local Group. And ours is only one of billions of galaxies, each of which has billions of stars. Some star systems are binary, and there could be a planet that revolves around a center of gravity between two binary stars. So you'd have two sunrises and two sunsets every day. One could be a red giant, the other a white dwarf; two different-sized, -shaped, and -colored suns in the sky. And there might be other planets and comets. In other words, fuck Wednesday, fuck three fifteen, fuck four o'clock, fuck the United States, fuck the earth. It's all temporal bullshit. I like thinking about being out there and not thinking about the corporate structure, not worrying about freedom, and not worrying about guns. I chose a life of ideas. That entertains me. That nourishes me."


Photos That Make the Rude Pundit Want to Down a Handful of Roofies with Warm Box Wine:

In the realm of symbolic pictures, this President has provided many: Bush distantly looking down on flooded New Orleans from his imperial plane; Bush looking idiotic trying to open a door in China that was never meant to open in the first place. But this one is up there: George Bush looking over the biblical-type devastation of the heart of America. For, truly, one of the only explanations for the insane, almost compulsive, decimation of so many aspects of this nation - its economy, its military, its Constitution - is that the intention all along was like that of a James Bond villain: fuck shit up just because it'll make you more powerful and richer.

As another example of the neglect of the infrastructure of this country because of the expense of a war or two, of tax cuts for the very rich, of one worthless policy after another, well, that picture of Bush peering out into the rot and sewage and waste infecting the land itself, that shit's just Mission Accomplished, motherfuckers.

Bush's words of comfort to Iowa are the kind of trite, insulting nonsense that used to get the more retarded knaves at court's tongues cut out: "I'm sorry we're going through this. Tell people that oftentimes you get dealt a hand you didn't expect to have to play, and the question is not whether you're going to get dealt the hand; the question is how do you play it. And I'm confident the people of Iowa will play it really well." Fuck yeah. Suck it, god. Let's go all in.

Let's leave this week with the words of Lashawn Baker while she was cleaning up her soon-to-be gutted home: "It took him a long time to get to New Orleans and he didn't help any of those people, so I don't think he's going to do anything to help Cedar Rapids now that he's here." Ah, it seems that some people understand the plot now.


Bush Taught About American Government by British Reporter:
President Bush's interview this week with Adam Boulton of Britain's Sky News contains moments of such vertiginous agony that it makes one think seriously of the good of getting addicted to heroin in order to make it through the next seven months. But, alas, such things are not practical, so, instead, one has to endure pathetic spectacles like our goddamned President getting schooled on the American judiciary by an English reporter. Here's the exchange on the Supreme Court's decision that restored at least a right or two to those foreigners on extended holiday at Gitmo:

BOULTON: But the Supreme Court have just said that -- you know, ruled against what you've been doing down there.

THE PRESIDENT: But the district court didn't. And the appellate court didn't.

BOULTON: The Supreme Court is supreme, isn't it?

THE PRESIDENT: It is, and I accept their verdict. I don't agree with their verdict.

So a member of the press of another country just explained to the President, in the tautological phraseology Bush favors, that the Supreme Court ultimately decides Constitutional issues and, truly, it doesn't fucking matter what lower courts said. To put it another way: Does anyone really give a happy monkey fuck today about how well the Lakers did in the division playoffs?

And what was Boulton's reaction supposed to be? What's anyone's? That, well, shit, two out of three courts ruled in the administration's favor, so they get the moral victory and "Huzzah" for them? Christ, it's just embarrassing when the asshole at the bar who's been given a curbside beat down to the point that he's pissed himself won't admit he's lost the fight, that, because he got in one or two good licks on the guy whose girl he hit on, asshole's gonna think he gave as good as he got. No - everyone knows when a motherfucker loses. And, apparently, Bush has to be reminded by someone from England.

Prior to that little kerfuffle was this wonderful bit of the interview:

BOULTON: I mean, you've talked a lot about freedom. I've heard you talk about freedom -- I think every time I've seen you.


BOULTON: And yet there are those who would say, look, let's take Guantanamo Bay and Abu Ghraib and rendition and all those things, and to them that is the, you know, the complete opposite of freedom.

THE PRESIDENT: Of course if you want to slander America, you can look at it one way. But you go down -- what you need to do -- I think I suggested you do this at a press conference -- if you go down to Guantanamo and take a look at how these prisoners are treated -- and they're working it through our court systems. We are a land of law.

Unless John Yoo's come up with a new standard for defining "slander," someone oughta tell Bush that it ain't slanderous if it's true. It's just another one of those moments where you realize what a punk ass bitch Bush is, and how desperately he needs to mask his fear and overly inbred cocker spaniel-like confusion with pissant intimidation, like Boulton's a pledge at the Deke house and Bush is the hooded brother with a paddle. Oh, for those crazy, hazing days at Yale.

Bush ended the interview with this stomach-churning threat: "Just remember, there's six months to go and a lot can get done in six months." Man, all of a sudden that smack haze is seeming more tempting.

Addendum: Speaking of living in a haze, Laura Bush was also taking part in the interview. But, really, and, c'mon, who the fuck cares what she has to say.

(Tip o' the rude hat to Crooks and Liars for the interview link.)


A Defense of Comedians Who Run For the Senate:
Let us say, and why not, that the Rude Pundit wants to write about Washington Post columnist Michael Gerson. Gerson, an evangelical Christian, was one of President George W. Bush's speechwriters for years and has claimed he coined the phrase "axis of evil." In and of himself, the bespectacled apologist for the worst excesses of the Bush administration is worthy of scorn.

But let us say, and, indeed, why not, that the Rude Pundit wished to use an approach called, in Swiftian, Twainian, and Vonnegutian terms, "satire." And, instead of merely directly criticizing Gerson's beliefs, he decided to go in another direction. For example:

Late one night, back in his day at the White House, President Bush was balls deep in Michael Gerson's face as the speechwriter fondled his own prostate to try to get even more pleasure out of huffing on the Commander-in-Chief's cock. When Gerson removed his fingers from his anus in order to grip Bush's dick and give it a few good yanks to possibly quicken the President's semenical release, Bush slapped Gerson's hand away and said, "Not so fast, there, Four-Eyed Freddie, you might have some shit on those digits." Still sucking like a Hoover on deep pile, Gerson reached onto Bush's desk to grab some tissues to wipe his fingers so he might get a clean grasp onto the Leader of the Free World's johnson. When Bush said, "Whoa, whoa, that's enough, I don't wanna jizz too soon," Gerson moved his hand back to his anus to fondle away again, but the President exclaimed, "Wait. I don't wanna have to wait next time you stroke my junk. Here. Use this." And then he handed Gerson a large crucifix adorned with a figure of Christ on it from his desk, which Gerson hesitated about using. "Aw, shit, Four-Eyed Freddie, the feet'll tickle your asshole but good," Bush insisted. Well, Gerson thought, if the President thinks it's okay... And then he thrust the upside-down cross up into his sphincter, the toes of Jesus poking his prostate so that his own erection became more intense. There, fucking himself with the Lamb of God, Bush's saliva-dripping cock shaft moving in and out his mouth, Gerson found the deepest satisfaction of his life, as the meat in a Bush/Savior sandwich.

You see? That right there is satire. It ain't subtle, to be sure. But it is an attempt to degrade people through fantasy in order to reveal something about them and their beliefs.

Gerson, in his latest "column," attacks Minnesota Democratic Senate nominee Al Franken for the longtime writer and performer's comedy from his years at Saturday Night Live and on the radio. Franken has, among other things, imagined graphic sexual scenarios involving Strom Thurmond, mocked the easy access to pornography on the internet (which was really the subject of his much-maligned Playboy essay "Porn-O-Rama!"), and made many, many intentionally sexist jokes that were said with irony and meant as scorn for those who believed such things. Hell, he pretty much drove his co-host off the show on Air America with his character that was a leprechaun with diarrhea. For Gerson, this makes Franken a "vulgarian."

Now, the Rude Pundit's not gonna bother with saying that George W. Bush is vulgar, too, as were Gerson's speeches, but for different obscene reasons. Instead, let's just say that obviously, Gerson, who claims he has no problem with bad words in other contexts, doesn't get it. As he says, "The objects of Franken's humor - including political opponents and women - are not merely mocked but dehumanized. His trashiness is also nastiness. Rather than lampooning the emptiness and viciousness of our political discourse - a proper role for satire - Franken has powerfully reinforced those failures."

And thus we see that Gerson and the Minnesota GOP, who have been propagating this myth that Franken degrades women, are fucking idiots. Other than the fact that the proper role of satire is also to dehumanize one's opponents (remember the Yahoos in Jonathan Swift?), other than the fact, as mentioned before, that the seemingly anti-woman jokes are actually attacks on those who are anti-woman, other than the fact that Rush Limbaugh Is a Big, Fat Idiot, the title of one of Franken's book, is a lampooning of the emptiness and viciousness of political discourse, there's this: Franken's "vulgar" jokes are actually said in the language of the everyday person, across class lines. His comedy was always about using humor to make complex ideas easily digestible.

And if the GOP can't portray Franken as an out of touch elitist (or, ridiculously, a sexist), then Norm Coleman better start packing his hair mousse from his Senate office.
Late Post, But a Quick Note Or Two:
The Rude Pundit's September 10th-ish mindset has delayed his post today. But a couple of notes here.

1. Gee, thanks to whomever signed the Rude Pundit up to the Family Research Council under "the Reverend Rude Pundit." He can't wait to get more e-mail blasts from those bastards. (Although he enjoyed this line from their confirmation letter: "FRC champions marriage and family as the foundation of civilization, the seedbed of virtue, and the wellspring of society." Yes, the Rude Pundit loves wellspringing his seedbed all over his partners' foundations.)

2. When is someone gonna walk up to California Congressman Darrell Issa on the street and kick him so hard in the crotch that his nuts become bloody earrings? (This is meant rhetorically, of course.)

Back later.


Family Research Council on California: It's the End of the World as We Know It:
Man, you've never seen a bunch of drama queens like the whiny fruits over at the ultra-Christian Family Research Council (motto: "Our non-stop focus on the nailing of Christ to the cross is so not sublimated homoerotic urges"). Now that the state of California has said that gays and lesbians can get marriage licenses and the benefits and detriments thereof, the FRC is in full-bore prayerturbating meltdown. Here's FRC President Tony Perkins on the crisis: the gay marriage decision "threatens to undo thousands of years of natural marriage...triggering five months of social chaos that could wreak havoc on every state in America." That five months is the ever-optimistic queer bashers' hopeful end date when they have faith that the good people of California will overturn the decision in a ballot initiative. Can someone tell these deluded bastards that history has left them behind?

Now the FRC is fighting back: "our ads in Sacramento and Orange County are reminding voters what the California court has now done to injure families and undermine the well being of children." And, truly, those ads are gayer than a Fire Island feather fag whose semen-slickened teeth are glistening in the mirror ball light. Here's the text of the Father's Day ad (and this is real): "Beginning Monday judges are removing the word husband from California marriage certificates. The next step will be to remove the word Father from birth certificates. Enjoy this Father's Day...it might be your last. Every child deserves a Mom and Dad."

Now that's an ad that's directed at stupid people, the same ones who believe it when flaming conservatives screech that gay marriage is the same as allowing a man to marry a dog. It's the logical equivalent of saying that because a lesbian likes the feel of the vibrator her lover uses on her clit, she may as well fuck guys. Umm, no. It's a pretty foundational misunderstanding and deliberate attempt to mislead the aforementioned stupid people.

Like this guy, the ironically named Chris Gacek (please, let it be pronounced "gay-check"). In his prissy analysis, Gacek asserts the same "what about the children" line: "Public schools will teach the fully equal status of homosexual and heterosexual conduct based, in substantial part, on state marriage law. Those who object may find themselves on the wrong side of the law." Quel horreur. You mean if the law says people are equal, you have to say that the law says that? Damn, that'll put a damper on all those public school classes on how missionary-position sex is way better than anal.

By the way, in a completely unrandom poll of a friend's 9 year-old and his group of friends, the reaction ran from "What's gay?" to "What do you mean two men can't marry? I want to marry Jesse." The kid's'll be just fine.

Meanwhile, out West, in San Diego, the first couple to be married had been together for 15 years. Former Marine Bob Lehman wed Tom Felkner. The ceremony was performed by Lehman's brother, another former Marine. Let's see the FRC try to fuck with them. We'll discover who becomes whose bitch.


"Killers" Set Free:
President Bush on the detainees held at Guantanamo Bay:
"These are killers." - January 28, 2002

"The ones in Guantanamo Bay are killers...They would like nothing more than to come after America, or our friends and allies." - March 20, 2002

"These are people that got scooped up off a battlefield, attempting to kill U.S. troops." - December 20, 2004

"They will get a trial which they, themselves, were unwilling to give to the people that they're willing to kill -- 'they,' the enemy." - May 4, 2006

An Afghan intelligence official on Mohammad Aman, held at Guantanamo Bay from late 2003-late 2006:

"This is why he was wrongly arrested." "This" refers to how his co-workers, who didn't like him because he was cranky and obnoxious, fabricated charges against Aman, who was a colonel and a desk jockey in the Afghan Defense Ministry.

The 66 former Gitmo inmates profiled by McClatchy news demonstrate that very, very few of nearly 800 men detained by the United States were, in fact, killers of any sort. Indeed, some of them actively supported the U.S. against the Taliban and al-Qaeda: "In effect, many of the detainees posed no danger to the United States or its allies. The investigation also found that despite the uncertainty about whom they were holding, U.S. soldiers beat and abused many prisoners."

While, like so many reports and investigations do these days, this only confirms what we already knew, we now can say that, in our American name, innocent people were held in cells, separated from their families, lives, and communities, interrogated, often being beaten and tortured, and they had no legitimate way of saying, "Yo, not a killer over here."

When conservatives go ballistic over last week's Supreme Court decision saying that detainees actually can challenge their detention, when John McCain calls it "one of the worst decisions in history," they are saying that America should not be any better than its enemies, that innocence is a technicality, and that the powerless deserve their fates.
Late Post Today:
JJJ is screaming about deadlines, so back later with a post on America the torturer.


Fare Thee Well, Pumpkinhead:
What the Rude Pundit will miss about Tim Russert is that, aggravating though he could be, you got the sense that he actually gave a shit. And these days, that is a rare commodity indeed.

Still, however wonderful a human being Russert may have been and however hard this may be for his family, friends, and colleagues, does his sudden death really warrant non-stop encomiums for the last 7 hours or so on all the news networks? How many hours until it's just sad masturbation masked as mourning? Did Iowa dry up?
Gitmo Decision Reaction on the Right: Have You Guys Read the Constitution?:
So the Rude Pundit just wants to get this straight: if you think yesterday's Supreme Court decision was a pile of shit, then you believe that the United States has the right to hold foreign nationals without allowing them to challenge their imprisonment in fair, open courts. You believe that a special court with special rules of evidence and special procedures is the only means through which a presidentially-designated "alien enemy combatant" held at a United States-run facility can even say, "Umm, do you have any proof I'm anything more than a fuckin' goat herder who was wandering in the right field at the wrong time?" You believe that the Constitution and the Geneva Conventions (except in the narrowest possible interpretation) do not apply to prisoners held at Gitmo. And you're absolutely hysterical, batshit insane over the idea that a human being held without ever being told why might get to ask.

Let's just bottom line this fucker: the nutzoid right wingers who still suckle Bush's nipples hate this country. Their arguments are that the nation is so weak, its judicial foundations so shaky, that America as we know it would crumble and buildings would spontaneously explode if we dare to allow alleged terrorists onto our soil and into our courtrooms.

This ain't overinterpretive hyperbole. Here's what Rush Limbaugh, a man who butters his Oxycontin tablets before downing them, said on his show yesterday: "Now, this is an abomination. This is just outrageous. Never before in the history of US warfare have we had to go out and Mirandize prisoners of war. That's what we're going to effectively have to do. We're going to have to read prisoners of war their rights just as we would a thief at the local convenience store. I'll tell you what this means. This means, don't capture 'em." The title of this lovely transcript is "The Last Days of the United States." It's probably not worth mentioning to Limbaugh that if they were designated "prisoners of war" in the first place and treated in accordance with our treaties on POWs, we wouldn't be having this discussion over the use of civilian courts.

'Cause, see, the Geneva Conventions are pretty fuckin' clear about that. POWs are tried in military courts, according to Article 84 of the third Convention. And "In no circumstances whatever shall a prisoner of war be tried by a court of any kind which does not offer the essential guarantees of independence and impartiality as generally recognized, and, in particular, the procedure of which does not afford the accused the rights and means of defense." But facts, like salads and treadmills, are things that Rush Limbaugh would rather not even get close to.

By the way, Limbaugh later corrected his earlier statement with "We're not at Miranda rights yet. US soldiers do not have to Mirandize Sahib and Skyhook when they capture 'em in Basra." Classy guy. And here the Rude Pundit thought "Sahib" was what Limbaugh called his personal towel boy, the 11 year-old illegal from India who is tasked with oiling Rush down after bathing him in his spa tub, shuddering when the radio host asks him to spend extra time rubbing the seat marks out of his ass and balls. Sahib cannot pray enough to erase those images from his head.

What's stunning is the lack of self-awareness in this bugfuck attacks on the Supreme Court. First there's the presumption of guilt. Limbaugh jowls out, "Terrorists." Over at the peep show slop bucket that is Townhall.com, Hugh Hewitt, a man with the creepy, lipless smile of a snuff film masturbator, says flat-out of the 270 or so remaining Gitmoites, "[T]he 'great writ' is open to the worst killers who have ever set their sights on the homeland." Does it need to be pointed out that the majority of people held at Gitmo have been released without charge?

And then there's the seeming surprise that the Supreme Court is the final arbiter of whether or not laws comply with the Constitution. Hewitt says the majority is "asserting its preeminence over the combination of the president and the Congress" as if this is some new or surprising thing. You'll hear this refrain again and again: that the Supreme Court somehow thinks it's the boss of the President and the Congress. Umm, that's what the fuckin' Constitution says. That's called a "check" on legislative and executive power. This shit is basic civics. Every time the Supreme Court overturns federal laws, it's asserting its prerogative.

Of course, there's hysterical little drama queens like Senator Lindsey Graham of South Carolina. Since the Supreme Court has bitch-slapped his efforts at looking tough again and again, he's having a hissy, threatening even, to introduce a constitutional amendment to strip habeas corpus rights. Screeched Graham, "I can't believe we are going to allow unelected judges who are not trained in military matters to make major wartime policy decisions." One might assume Justice John Paul Stevens, the only member of the Court who served in the military and who voted in the majority, would disagree.

Yes, it's gonna be non-stop fearmongering by the rabid right. For them, it's the nation on the precipice of a fall. Really, though, it's projection of the fear of how obsolete they and their ideology have become.
Hey, Austin:
The Rude Pundit will be speaking on a panel at the Netroots Nation conference in Austin, TX. The conference formerly known as Yearly Kos will be held from July 17-20. More on the panel when all the participants are finalized.

So, Austin, the Rude Pundit's looking for a place to do some performing - preferably a small theatre. Anyone got any ideas or know anyone that might be able to set up something for that weekend? Get in touch. As ever, "rudepundit_at_yahoo_dot_com".


Antonin Scalia Says Gitmo Detainees Can Suck His Gavel:
In one of several surprisingly civilized recent decisions, today the Supreme Court released its 5-4 opinion that detainees held at Guantanamo Bay have the right to challenge their imprisonment in civilian court, and that if the Congress wants to take away the writ of habeas corpus from anyone, then it better fuckin' stand up and say, as the Constitution does, that we're in a "case of rebellion or invasion." In his raised middle finger of a majority opinion, Justice Anthony Kennedy writes of things like Military Detainee Act, the Congress and the President do not "have the power to switch the Constitution on or off at will."

The majority decision (on quick read) is compelling. For real fun, though, let's take a trip into the mad brain of Justice Antonin Scalia, the man whose consistent belief that individual liberties and civil rights are merely the dried ejaculate of the unending masturbation of self-indulgent adolescents has made him the model judge for John McCain and other corporate and imperial power-lovin' whores. In his separate dissent today, Scalia managed to reduce the role of the judiciary to a mere foreskin on the cock of presidential power and the Constitution to so much shit-smeared Charmin spinning into the maelstrom of the American toilet.

Let the man himself speak. First, he gives a mini-version of a Bush or Cheney speech, or one of his own, being the Justice who loves that speaker's fee lucre more than any other: "America is at war with radical Islamists. The enemy began by killing Americans and American allies abroad: 241 at the Marine barracks in Lebanon, 19 at the Khobar Towers in Dhahran, 224 at our embassies in Dar es Salaam and Nairobi, and 17 on the USS Cole in Yemen...On September 11, 2001, the enemy brought the battle to American soil, killing 2,749 at the Twin Towers in New York City, 184 at the Pentagon in Washington, D. C., and 40 in Pennsylvania. It has threatened further attacks against our homeland; one need only walk about buttressed and barricaded Washington, or board a plane anywhere in the country, to know that the threat is a serious one. Our Armed Forces are now in the field against the enemy, in Afghanistan and Iraq. Last week, 13 of our countrymen in arms were killed." And what better way to deal with the 1983 Beirut bombing than to deny habeas corpus to Afghanis captured in 2001?

Then Big Tony kicks out the imperial presidency jams: "The game of bait-and-switch that today’s opinion plays upon the Nation’s Commander in Chief will make the war harder on us. It will almost certainly cause more Americans to be killed. That consequence would be tolerable if necessary to preserve a time-honored legal principle vital to our constitutional Republic. But it is this Court’s blatant abandonment of such a principle that produces the decision today." If you're a federal judge in a civilian court today, you must feel goddamn proud that Antonin Scalia has such faith in your ability to hold trials for "enemy combatants."

Essentially, as much of the rest of the dissent says, you suck, judiciary branch. It's the kind of self-loathing that has gotten Scalia so chummy with Dick Cheney, where he lets Cheney play "Shoot Scalia in the Face," except with, you know, his dick instead of a rifle. Indeed, Scalia pretty much says the judiciary sucks in one of his last lines: "And, most tragically, it sets our military commanders the impossible task of proving to a civilian court, under whatever standards this Court devises in the future, that evidence supports the confinement of each and every enemy prisoner." Man, what a punk-ass legal system this nation has, demanding that the government prove that an accused criminal is a criminal. What pussies we must be not to just trust the executive branch (and the military) with that. Of course, that'd be called a "dictatorship," but, hell, as long as Scalia is kept fat with linguine and oh-so-yummy sausages, what the fuck does he care.

And what of the logic of Scalia's arguments? He says, among other things, that habeas corpus protections in the Constitution were never meant to extend beyond the borders of the United States, citing English and Scottish precedents (which is odd in itself, since Scalia huffed and wheezed when other justices used the legal arguments of foreign countries to support their decisions). Which begs the question: if the United States Constitution doesn't apply at Gitmo, does Cuba's? No one's? It's like tying your leather slave to the iron posts of the bed and after you put the ball gag in, you tell him there's no safe word this time as you start to put the Ben-Gay on his ass cheeks. (Anthony Kennedy addresses this remarkable Cuban conundrum in the majority opinion, 'round about pages 35-42.)

Finally, there's the couple of instances where Scalia comes across like a blogger who has run out of ways to say shit. For instance, here's an actual quote from this actual Supreme Court Justice: "[S]o long as there are some places to which habeas does not run—so long as the Court’s new 'functional' test will not be satisfied in every case—then there will be circumstances in which 'it would be possible for the political branches to govern without legal constraint.' Or, to put it more impartially, areas in which the legal determinations of the other branches will be (shudder!) supreme." That "shudder!" is now part of the written history of the highest court in the United States.

Instead of worrying about impeaching George W. Bush (save it for arrest as a war criminal), who only has a few more months to fuck us up, what about Scalia, who may have years more to poison our well? Putting more justices on the Supreme Court like Antonin Scalia would be like pouring scorpions into a playpen.


Photos That Make the Rude Pundit Want to Smoke a Tuba Bong:

Standing there like a particularly slow silverback gorilla staring at ants on a log is the President of the United States, in Slovenia, watching dancers at a Lipizaner stallion exhibition. It doesn't need to keep being said, but once more: Dude, just fuckin' golf.

At his press conference with the Slovenian PM, Bush commented, "[W]e strongly believe Turkey ought to be a member of the EU, and we appreciate Turkey's record of democratic and free market reforms, and working to realize its EU aspirations." And it'll be awesome, especially since Turkey and Iran are sharing intelligence so Turkey can take out militant Kurdish separatists in Northern Iraq. To put that in perspective, it's like telling your brother that he can hang out with you at your beach house, even though he's ass-fucking your anal-warts bearing ex-husband before going back to his house to fuck his pregnant wife. And you know all this and still extend the weekend sand and surf invite to him.

Meanwhile, what the fuck is Laura Bush wearing?:


Fucked New Orleans (Part Whatever of a Neverending Series): Whenever it gets so hot up here in the Northeast that the rats are bursting into flames and the streets smell of dog shit and ball sweat, the Rude Pundit thinks fondly of New Orleans, remembering the many nights spent with dancing bodies glistening with that perspiration sheen, of downing speed (back when we called it "speed") with bottles of Dixie beer in shitty Fat City bars where fights would inevitably break out because no amount of alcohol could make you feel fully human in that inhuman heat. Alas, alas, the pain of such memories, and not just because of busted knuckles and splintered chairs. For New Orleans is fucked, yes, it needs to be repeated endlessly, since the storm that wrecked the city and ripped the happy mask off the Bush administration's face to reveal the horrible, scared visage underneath. The FBI released its stats for violent crime in 2007 and, lo and behold, the national average was down just a bit, 1.4% (in Republican statistical analysis, a "landslide"). Cities and states around the country celebrated their own declines in murders, rapes, and robberies. Down in New Orleans, not so much. In fact, violent crime grew at an alarming rate in 2007 in the city. While the rising murder and rape rates seem to be similar to the growth in population of naive optimists and carpetbagging speculators (and poor people who have nowhere else to go and illegals hired to work construction for shit wages), the armed robbery number is startling: 1,245 in 2006; 1,973 in 2007. This year it's gotten even worse. In the first three months of 2008, rapes are up 57% and armed robbery is up 24%. Meanwhile, with 1 in 25 residents of the Crescent City homeless, the House is getting ready to cut $73 million in housing help for physically and mentally disabled Katrina victims from the Senate bill that funds the Iraq war for $212 billion and pays for help for Iraqi refugees to the tune of $350 million. Because President Bush might veto the bill if it's not "clean," as if any spending associated with this cocksucking war can ever be called "clean." Republicans are being aided in this effort by Blue Dog Democrats, who ought to be beaten into yowling submission like the mange-ridden curs they are. Meanwhile, over in the 'burbs, things aren't exactly going swimmingly. You got someone burning "KKK" into a black familiy's lawn in Metairie. You got a bank robbery in Kenner, where John McCain spoke for some reason that was never really explained to anyone. That's in the last day or so. It's motherfuckin' hot in New Orleans right now, hurricane season. Has been for over a month. It'll stay this way only until November, if they're lucky.


The Coming Republican Attack, Part 1: Mainstreaming Racism:
Now that we're all trying to hold hands and get our "Kumbaya" on over here in Democratville post-Clinton campaign suspension, let's not forget about what's coming. The self-fellating right wingers in this country are going to try to portray Barack Obama as some kind of unholy combination of a razor-wielding pimp and a back-stabbing house negro. Who converted to Islam. Get ready for the mainstreaming of contemporary racism.

Hell, Obama's candidacy has gotten Floyd G. Brown, the creator of the "Willie Horton" ad, all hard and yearning to start fucking. Brown has started a website and gotten some ads going where he wants to show how Obama is weak on crime because, among other things, Obama didn't support the death penalty for gang members. Fucker's not even subtle about his opinions of the Democratic nominee: "Obama is a liberal, only slightly more stylish than Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton, but equally dedicated to the same causes." Damn those uppity coloreds.

Once the mainstream media goes full force on the whole "can a black man be president" thing, you can bet that they're gonna trot out every scuzzy racist with a thick Appalachian or Boston accent they can find. Like the Guardian did yesterday, going into Appalachia (and elsewhere) to talk to voters in, say, West Virginia about why they won't vote for Obama, like Johnny Tevlor, who said, "We'll end up slaves. We'll be made slaves just like they was once slaves" if Obama is elected. Frankly, it's kind of deeply hilarious that there are people kept so stupid in this country that they think a black president would enslave white people. When Tevlor goes back to his shack in his shitty little depressed town to gum on a dry biscuit, one hopes he feels free under the white presidents.

You see what the Rude Pundit did right there? He engaged with an idiot. Because by putting the idiot's opinion in the newspaper, it seems like it's a relevant argument, not just an extremist perspective from the most talkative racist in the town. Over at Americablog, Aravosis goes through the nutzoids who spout hate-filled bullshit all over John McCain's poorly monitored blog comments section. Yes, it shows that there's assholes who can type, but little else.

To be sure, there's a helluva lot of people who would rather dangle their balls over a bear trap than vote for a black man. And, to be sure, racism is a justified subject in this election. But to give air to the vilest speech possible, to make it seem like it's anything more than the most backwards ass thinking the country has to offer, is to give aid and comfort to the not-quite-as-disgusting racists, the ones who may not believe that Obama will enslave them, but "just don't feel comfortable" with a black man in power.

And the Republican destruction machine is going to harvest those feelings of discomfort like delicate poppy flowers and make it okay to feel that way as long as they keep it to the voting booth and put away the nooses.


Three Things Hillary Clinton Accomplished Today:
1. By making the case to her voters that the only way to honor her candidacy is to vote for Barack Obama, she lived up to her statements that she was in this to help the average person.

2. She placed herself in a continuum of women in the ever-evolving feminist struggle. See, Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton didn't live to see women get the right to vote in the United States, but it might not have happened if they hadn't fought for women's rights in the decades before.

3. If her voters listen to her, the Obama movement will become a tidal wave. And that sound you hear is not just cheering; it's John McCain's fighter jet plunging to earth once again.


Great Moments in Punditry (Jack Cafferty Edition):
By far, the best exchange the Rude Pundit saw this past week was a quick little bit of interplay over on CNN's Situation Room with Wolf "My Beard Is as Lupine as My Name" Blitzer this past Wednesday. In the 6 p.m. hour, Blitzer was holding forth with his Most Awesomely Splendiferous Political Panel in the History of Humankind, or whatever the fuck CNN is calling it, and that'd be Gloria Borger, Jeffrey Toobin, and designated grumpy old bastard Jack Cafferty.

Cafferty's one of the last of a dying breed of TV news personalities, an old school New York journalist from back in the Anchorman days. But this is a fucker who at least seems like he's had whiskey-filled drunk nights with cops, shared hookers with Mike Milken, and threatened to beat down Donald Trump. However much that may or may not be true, the man acts as if he's got the license to say whatever the hell he wants, and a good three-quarters of the time he presents liberal beliefs as just so-obvious-it's-ridiculous common sense. George Lakoff should take notes. And the Rude Pundit always appreciates anyone who's willing to call motherfuckers "motherfuckers," as Cafferty did recently with the Chinese leadership (pre-earthquake).

However, this moment has nothing to do with journalism or opinions. It has to do with this:

Borger, making a point about the coming unity in the Democratic party, said, "So if you think you're going to -- you want the money shot of them with their arms in the air, you're going to get it. It's in both of their self-interest right now to do that."

While Borger continued, Cafferty's attention was piqued by a turn of phrase used by Borger. He asked, "Did you say the money shot?"

Borger, a bit confused, responded, "The money shot. You know, yes."

Cafferty said, "Oh."

Borger looked confused while Cafferty stared wryly right at Toobin, who gave the barest of smirks, until Toobin said to a stumbling Blitzer and Borger, "Jack and I will keep that to ourselves." Then they all moved on.

A "money shot," in case you don't know, is the moment in a pornographic movie when the actual male ejaculation is filmed. It is also known as a "cum shot." Often, the ejaculation is spewed onto the face or into the mouth of the actor's partner, male or female. Indeed, so important is the money shot that, in most pornography, the male whose penis is in the position to ejaculate will remove said penis from whatever orifice is being used to provoke ejaculation to show the penis in the act of ejaculating. The money shot is an accepted, nearly universal part of pornography, despite the fact that when most males ejaculate, they prefer to plunge their penises deeply into the aforementioned orifices. Additionally, according to the economics of the pornography industry, males do not get paid for their work unless they provide a filmable ejaculation because, even if the film has shown a close-up of a penis entering a mouth, anus, vagina, or well-crafted plate of Jello, viewers may not believe real sex has occurred.

So, obviously, Cafferty was amused that Borger had used the phrase "money shot" (which can also mean an expensive or highly emotional scene in films pornographic or not). It was the Ron Burgundy leer coming through, and the old guy was attempting to bond with Toobin over it. It was kind of like when, say, David Brinkley and John Chancellor would toast the TV screen whenever Jessica Savitch had to say, "Malcolm Baldridge" or "Dick Schweiker."

Yeah, some things never die.

More later.


Not a Requiem for Khalid Sheikh Mohammed:
In the specific, the Rude Pundit doesn't give a fuck about what happens to Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, the alleged mastermind of the 9/11 attacks. As far as he's concerned, if the t-shirted bastard did it, Mohammed deserves to spend eternity in Hell inside a burning tower, sucking pig cocks until both he and the pigs barbecue up real nice, and then healing up and getting to do it all over again. But all of us need to be concerned about Khalid Sheikh Mohammed as an abstract concept, a symbol, an allegory of how we wish to see ourselves.

For, indeed, as the military tribunal hearing for Mohammed and other alleged planners gets under way, America once again gets to proudly see the result of its intentionally complicated and legalesed out torture program. Like poor Jose Padilla, guilty of thinking about shit and talking to the wrong people, left a barely coherent tangle of synapses that don't fire right anymore after eternities in solitary and a good torture session of two, testimony gained from waterboarding Mohammed will surely be used during the hearing before the dozen military officers, only two-thirds of whom have to say, "Yea" to the death penalty for it to be the sentence.

So right there at Gitmo, in the hysterically ironically-named "Camp Justice" (no, really), Mohammed will defend himself, hoping to be put to death, and wanting the United States to aid and abet his suicide and martyrdom. At his show trial, Mohammed will not be able to challenge statements he made because he was drowned or because the CIA held his seven and nine year old children for interrogation. He will not be able to challenge hearsay evidence that will be allowed because, well, that's the nature of hearsay. And chances are he'll be put to death.

This ain't about Mohammed, even as it is. It's the same argument: what the treatment of Mohammed is about is whether or not we actually abide by the bullshit we preach about things like justice and compassion. There's so many arguments against the Gitmo prisoners getting full trials in U.S. civil courts that are just fucked up denial of what's actually being done: they're not citizens, as if we're talking about whether or not they can vote instead of whether or not they can see all the evidence against them in a death penalty case; they wouldn't treat Americans half as well as we've treated them, as if we should measure ourselves based on the worst savagery you can imagine ("Well, George Bush may be bad, but at least he doesn't have rape rooms").

William F. Buckley, motherfucker though he may have been, had the guts to say that all the arguments pro-capital punishment supporters used were nonsense. Why not, he said, just admit that there's a human desire for vengeance? The same goes for this bullshit game, one that is losing pieces and being held together by duct tape and string, of proceeding with these military tribunals. Someone say, "You know what? We just wanna kill 'em. We fuckin' used 'em up and now we wanna kill 'em. Do you want them to live?" Then we cut through the bullshit and have a discussion about our American morality.

Again, again, again, this ain't about what Khalid Sheikh Mohammed "deserves." It's about us. And if we do just what our enemies expect us to do, then we will never achieve anything that resembles "victory."


A Few Observations From Last Night's Big Speech Threefer (with Special Focus on McCain):
- No way, no how, not on this planet, not in this galaxy should Obama have Hillary Clinton on the ticket. That's what Obama needs: a Vice President who believes she should be President, with the added bonus of having Bill Clinton wagging his pussy-ready finger at everyone whenever someone says something mean about his wife. It'd be a big, stupid mistake, akin to a family of lemurs inviting a boa constrictor over for dinner.

- Clinton's speech last night was bullshit. It was a dickish attempt by this bastard to squeeze another moment or two out of a limelight that's burning out. Why doesn't she have the balls to admit defeat? A close defeat, but a defeat nonetheless. When your football team loses by a safety in overtime, they still lost. It's not Hillary time anymore. It's time to be Democrats. (Note: in order to not appear sexist, the Rude Pundit will use only male-based terms when he wishes to be derogatory to Hillary Clinton.)

- John McCain is a wee skeevy slug fucker. Last night, he gave a speech that was deranged, overly self-aggrandizing, and vicious, all while looking not unlike the cute comic book character Hot Stuff, the Little Devil. Giggling at his own "laugh lines" and particularly desperate attacks, showing those corn kernel teeth of his, for most of the speech, one felt as if one was watching an especially prodigious pedophile tell a room full of small children the various ways he was gonna fuck 'em ("Jimmy, I'm only gonna fondle your anus, but, Susie, I'm gonna full-on ram the shit out of you").

McCain began his speech with a lie: "Good evening from the great city of New Orleans." Kenner is a suburb that's got Metairie between it and New Orleans. It'd be like calling someone from Yonkers and saying that you're in New York City. And he was speaking in north Kenner, the whitest area of the town, where David Duke went to speak right after getting out of prison. Indeed, the only reason for choosing to speak in Kenner is that it's where the airport is.

Obviously psychologically damaged by Barack Obama's campaign, McCain couldn't say the word "change" enough. It was like he'd been slapped in the head with a change stick: "This is, indeed, a change election. No matter who wins this election, the direction of this country is going to change dramatically. But, the choice is between the right change and the wrong change." This is the shit that was written, so it wasn't a "senior moment" or a mini-stroke. Somebody told him to repeat the word endlessly, as if it'll somehow take the power out of it.

Then he got his back up about Obama's charge that a McCain presidency would be like Bush's third term. Smiling his gray-toothed smile, McCain nonsensically said, "Why does Senator Obama believe it's so important to repeat that idea over and over again? Because he knows it's very difficult to get Americans to believe something they know is false." Repeat an idea over and over? Like the baby shit green backdrop that said, "A Leader We Can Believe In" (again, in conscious imitation of Obama's slogan) repeatedly in front of which McCain, the mushroom in the pea soup puke, spoke? Dude, part of political rhetoric is repeating shit. It's why in every fuckin' speech McCain says, as he did last night, "I hate war." Say that enough, and maybe even McCain will believe it.

Oh, McCain wanted so much to mock Obama, saying, "I don't seek the presidency on the presumption I'm blessed with such personal greatness that history has anointed me to save my country in its hour of need." McCain's so obsessed that one might imagine that at night he goes home to the bamboo cage in his office and masturbates furiously to photos of the Democrat, screeching, "I just wanna fuck those ears."

The rest of it was widdle Johnny McCain twyin' to show what big, stwong gwown-up he's become since he volunteered to shove himself so far up George W. Bush's ass that he's got a vacation home in the President's large intestine. And, considering nearly every poll of Americans, the simplest damn thing Obama can do is ask, "You wanna get out of Iraq? Vote for me." Because, as the man himself said, "it's very difficult to get Americans to believe something they know is false."

- While McCain derided his opponent's life and experience, Obama went out of his way to praise McCain, to "honor his service." To address this, the Rude Pundit would point you once again to some audio of his.


Regarding This Evening's Events Involving Barack Obama:
For the first time in his adult life, the Rude Pundit is really proud of his country.
The Last Gasps:
A pastiche poem from the commenters over at Hillary Clinton's campaign blog, regarding the AP story saying that Clinton will "concede" tonight, which the campaign denies:

1. Fragments
my heart almost stopped when i read the false statements about hillary conceding
that is not the hillary i love
Don't you dare concede, Hillary, don't you dare
I knew the media was spinning this
They would like nothing better than to show Hillary supporters sobbing tonight
I wish I could donate more.

2. Jennifer in Full

3. End of Story
I will not vote for
Under ANY circumstances.
He is not
Qualified for the job.
End of story.

(The Rude Pundit says, "Goddamn, let this be over tonight.")
Late Post Today:
Clark Kent duty calls. Back later with more tasty rudeness.


Reasoning with the Unreasonable:
At this point in the neverending self-flagellation that is the Democratic Party's Trail of Tears to the nomination, it's worthless to attempt to reason with Hillary Clinton's supporters. No matter how much you try to point out that Clinton agreed to the nominating process at the beginning, they won't care. None of it matters: not the facts that she was the frontrunner and presumptive nominee up until the Iowa caucuses, that Harold Ickes (a man desperately in need of a punch in the nuts) voted to "punish" Florida and Michigan. You can't start an argument by saying that Clinton herself said that even elected delegates can change who they support; therefore, the fight for the "will of the people" or whatever in Florida and Michigan isn't really what's at stake. You can't speak to them metaphorically, like saying how if you start a game of stick ball, you can't in the middle of an inning say that second base ain't the car on the corner anymore, that it's the fire hydrant half a block down, just because it turns out the other team has faster runners. Or that we're no longer gonna score by runs, just by how many bases you touch. No, no, such figurative language won't do for Clinton's followers.

The Rude Pundit would like to think that if he was in the position of Clinton's voters, that his candidate was actually losing the nomination, he'd have the sense to toss in the towel, as many previous Clinton supporters are doing. He'd like to think that, well, shit, the rules sometimes suck, but so be it. And instead work to change the rules for the future. Yes, he'd like to think he'd be so gracious. Indeed, when it seemed that Clinton was the inevitable nominee back last year, the Rude Pundit was ready to go all in to defeat the real enemy, and that was never Hillary Clinton. And he certainly knows that he wouldn't keep fighting if Clinton got the number of delegates needed to win the nomination.

As Democrats, one of the things we have to figure out is how to respect the rage of the hardcore Clinton voters. While relying on commenters on a website for perspective is about as smart as thinking that your crack addict sister is actually gonna use that money you loaned to buy groceries for her kid, it's a bit alarming to read the rank hatred over at the Hillary Clinton blog in reaction to the statement by Ickes (a man desperately in need of a cock-kicking) to the DNC Rules and Bylaws Committee that he's pissed and might take it to the convention.

In the over 1400 reactions, there's despair and arrogance and, yes, insanity, as well as a kind of support group mentality mixed with mass hysteria. Most of the comments are about how to proceed, and there's roughly five paths: fight for the nomination all the way to the convention in Denver, consequences be damned; or, if Obama is the nominee, write-in Clinton, get Clinton to run as an Independent, vote for McCain as a protest against the DNC, or not vote at all. These sentiments are spread over numerous writers, not just a couple of people bitching at each other, as so many comment threads become.

Now, we can simply flip these people off, treat them like deluded children and say, "Yeah, right, get in line, fuckers. You'll be voting for Obama like a good Democrat." It'd be like the way the Republicans treat the religious right or the way Bill Clinton treated black people. But that's a bullshit way to act toward fellow Democrats.

We can also appeal to reason, saying that, just for the sake of Supreme Court appointments (which might include Hillary or Bill, gang), you gotta vote for Obama. Don't go all Nader on the nation.

But how, Christ, how do we treat members of the family who have become estranged?
It's all such projection now, this whole quixotic battle that Clinton supporters are engaged in. It's projection of years of waiting for a female candidate that had an honest shot. It's projection for the way Al Gore was screwed out of the presidency. It's projection for how seven years of George W. Bush have left Americans feeling as if what they believed about government and the nation was worthless.

We who support Obama cannot take this rage for granted. Surely, Obama has his work cut out for him in reaching out to Clinton supporters, when he secures the majority of the delegates. When that moment comes, though, it's incumbent upon us, the Obama supporters in Left Blogsylvania, to offer comfort to Clinton's most rabid acolytes and give them another place to call home.

And then let's fuckin' tear John McCain's hopes and dreams to shreds.