Join the Patreon Party (and Here's How Much I've Hated on Orrin Hatch)

In the last week, another couple dozen of you joined up for the Rude Pundit page on Patreon, and that's so fuckin' awesome. I've got a simple goal of 500 patrons, but I'd love to hit 250 by the end of the year. The big money goal is enough to pay someone who is way more skilled at this shit than me to edit Another Goddamn Podcast so I can get it out to you at more than a once-a-month or so rate. (And let's be honest with each other: it's more like "Hmm, am I sober enough to finish it this week?")

There are multiple donor levels because why the fuck not. So even for $1 a month, you can get extra rudeness and audio tasty bits. The more you donate, the more you get, and every single one of you gets my arousing appreciation. In the last month, donors have heard me tell stories about people I've met traveling this big, weird world; they've gotten to see a video interview I did with a crazy-ass Trump humper; and they've gotten posts on everything from political art to horror movies to a script I wrote about climate change for a late-night show. Big fun: whenever you donate, you can see and listen to everything I've posted at that donor level.

It's a bounty of goodies, motherfuckers. So join on up. 


Senator Orrin Hatch of Utah inconveniently didn't die before it was time for him to finally retire from the Senate. In a bullshit pile of a speech, he bemoaned the loss of "comity, compromise, and mutual respect" in the body where he served for about 800 years. He refused to admit his own role in taking comity behind the barn, putting three bullets in the back of its skull, and fucking its corpse. But that would take a wise and reflective person. He might have once upon a time worked with Ted Kennedy and other Democrats on bills, but Hatch has always been a miserable shitheel. 

And I've said some truly wretched things about him over the years, none of which I regret.

For instance, I imagined him as a hermaphrodite prostitute who puts on "a show where he sits spread-eagled on a bed, takes his cock, and bends it into his pussy so he can fuck himself."

Continuing a theme, I said that, at a hearing with then-Attorney General Alberto Gonzales over warrantless domestic surveillance, Hatch "more or less took out a 9-inch dildo and told Gonzales to watch him fuck himself right there in the chamber as Hatch bent over and slid that bad boy home."

Before same-sex marriage was legalized, but after a decision that put it on that path, I fantasized about Hatch in a closet in the Senate, jacking off at the thought of finally being free to consummate his forbidden love with Patrick Leahy. (It's probably the kindest thing I've said about Hatch.)

I wrote that Hatch was "not above worm shit at the bottom of a grave." I wrote that Hatch's "picture is shown to Mormon teenagers whenever they are tempted to masturbate." And just last month I said that Hatch "would tongue fuck the eyeholes" of Roy Cohn's skull.

Yeah, I'm not sorry I won't have Hatch to kick around anymore. Fuck him. Fuck his poisoned legacy. The country is a small measure better with him gone.