On the Value of Masturbation and Voting (with Multimedia Treats):
Think about it this way: at the end of the day, no matter who has broken up with you, no matter how many men or women have shot you down at the bar, no matter how many chaste make-out sessions have left you hot and bothered, no matter how many of your friends or acquaintances or classmates or workmates or enemies are getting laid, if you're not disabled in some sad way, you can always masturbate. No matter what, they can't take that away from you. Just break out your favorite inspirational material: donkey porn, soundtrack of Gordon Ramsay screaming at someone, feathered nipple clamps, whatever you like, and just go at it, yanking or fingering or dildoing or vibrating your cock or cunt or asshole into ecstasy. You do it for yourself, for your sanity, for the good of everyone around you, because, indeed, if you don't, you'll be a miserable motherfucker for the rest of the day, wondering why you didn't when you had the chance.
Is there any better way to wrap up this ridiculous election than with jerking off as a metaphor for voting? It's as if the nation has been enduring one long session of calculated self-abuse since Summer 2009. And as Democrats are told again and again by Republicans to fuck off and by the mainstream media that we're worthless, well, they've left us nothing but to say, "Why don't we just go fuck ourselves?" And you should. You should head to that voting booth and push that button because the bastards and bitches all around us have said that we're a bunch of losers who can't handle the big ol' government.
This ain't a bipartisan, let's-hold-hands moment. If you're voting Republican, the Rude Pundit doesn't want you to vote at all (although he'll defend to the end your right to do it). If you're voting Democrat and you haven't yet, get the fuck off the computer and do it. And, unless you vote, you don't get to whine about how worthless it is, how every candidate is the same, how giant companies really run things, any of that shit. Because they haven't taken that from you yet. They may fuck with it. They may be able to manipulate the electronic machines. But you can still walk into your polling place and vote. Hell, punch a Tea Party poll watcher in the groin, if that makes you happy. Whatever happens after the election is what we deal with after the fact.
No predictions here. The Rude Pundit will blog some shit tonight and probably live-tweet some reactions. On yesterday's Stephanie Miller Show, he made a forecast or two. Short version: we're fucking fucked, motherfuckers:
Instead, how about a laugh or two to get through this sure-to-be terrible day?
At this weekend's rally in DC, the Rude Pundit figured out what happened to the Democrats. They didn't run away from the legislation they passed. It ran away from them:
And, finally, to remember what awful people these sons of bitches really are, here's a shaky-cam bit from the Rude Pundit's performance at the DC Arts Center on Friday. It's a poem based on the instant messages of former Rep. Mark Foley to an underage male congressional page:
