Larry Craig Confesses!

"Dear Americans and especially Idahoans,

I am sorry to admit that I intentionally obfuscated the facts about the unfortunate incident that occurred recently in a Minneapolis airport toilet. I did so because of a very personal issue that causes me a great deal of shame.
Yes, I do take a wide stance while defecating.
Why?
Because I have to spread my cheeks this far (see photo) so the painful, swollen hemorrhoidal tissue surrounding my anus is cleared away enough for me to have a proper bowel movement.
So there you have it.
For the love of Pete*, I'm not a naughty, nasty, bad boy like Bill Clinton--I'm just a normal, red blooded heterosexual from Idaho who'd rather have to strain to move my bowels than give up eating those delicious Idaho spuds packed with cheese made from All-American Idaho cow's milk.
Now, the left-wing lunatic fringe is even claiming I adopted my lovely wife Suzanne's three children from her previous marriage because I'm not heterosexual enough to impregnate her myself! How outrageous to claim that a board member of the National Rifle Association such as myself who can handle the longest, hardest rifle yet can't pull my trigger into such a lovely wife as my Suzanne!
Again, I am not gay, have never been gay and if I was gay I'd not be gay in public toilets. Or anywhere.
No, really, I'm not gay.


*Pete is not a real person and if he was I wouldn't love him except in the same Christian way that a man loves his fellow Christian man.

Str8 WM seeks discrete GWM...

For tearoom pleasure.
I'm not gay, but I sure like cock!
Will travel 2bw/u.
Call Spud at 202-224-2752.

Adios, You Miserable MoFo

Finally! Bush's swishy Tio Tomas Attorney General has resigned.
How I loathe guys like him who are knee-deep here in South Texas.
No, not because he's Hispanic. Not because his caustic TexMex accent grates on my nerves like a jackhammer during nap time. Not because his hair looks like he slept all night in a tight hairnet.
It's because his arrogance, ignorance and selling out to The Man combine to make me want to punch him as hard as I can right in the face.
Brilliant comedian Carlos Mencia might refer to Gonzales as a "beaner made good."
Sure, it's a racist thing to say, but being half beaner myself, I know beaners.
Okay, okay, ease up.
I won't call him a beaner, instead I'll call him a Muppie. That's a Mexican Yuppie.
Want some evidence? Okay, he's been married twice-- first to Diane Clemens and now to Rebecca Turner.
Muppies always want to marry Anglos so they can have kids who don't reflect their self loathing, internalized racism.
Second, Muppies suck up to the white patriarchy by any means possible.
To have a Hispanic Texas man sacrifice all that is holy by sucking the lily white dick of George W. Bush in order to distance himself from his wetback family history is a disgrace.
To have a Hispanic Texas man turn out to be a Republican is a slap in the face to anyone with even one drop of Latino blood.
To have a Hispanic Texas man lie and cheat and ramrod the United States Constitution and the people of America in order to do Bush's shameless, partisan bidding is unforgivable.
Sure, I can be a dutiful reporter and rehash the disgraceful legal maneuvering he perpetrated against the American taxpayers on behalf of Bush, but we all know it by heart.
Like Bush, Gonzales is just one more gutless Neo-con liars who'll fuck anyone to get ahead.
So goodbye, you miserable Muppie prick. And good riddance.

The Latest Wrinkle

Hmm. I think someone got back to the DWP and told her I was about to bail out because of her.
She continues to be nice and has treated me like a professional all week.
There was a letter of praise for my performance from a very heavy hitter in our community that came in today's mail. DWP wanted me to reprint it in the magazine.
I told her absolutely not-- journalists should NEVER give the impression of self aggrandizement. She insisted. I said, "Sorry, it ain't gonna happen."
She said she'd kick the idea upstairs. I said it still ain't gonna happen.
Last night at the "big event," she saw a lot of VIP types hugging me and beaming when they saw me. I can't help it, I'm sort of charming when I want to be.
I think she might realize that running me off would reflect poorly on her.
Today I feel very pleased with her change of attitude. But I'm not an idiot and I have no plans to drop my guard. I'm just praying this streak holds up.
Here's a pic of my beloved cat James. It has nothing to do with this posting, he's just a darling boy and he deserves some publicity.

The DWP: Trying a New Tactic

My boss, the Devil Wears Payless, has been peaches and cream sweet all week. I know she's up to something.
She's got an event I'm covering tomorrow night; maybe it's as simple as her wanting lots of flattering photos taken.
She sent me to cover a horrid thing this evening, sponsored by a notoriously homophobic funeral director. It was a presentation of a new electronic death reporting system. Only 10 people showed up.
The site was the oldest, honkiest country club in town. Downstairs in the main dining salon were the members, ladies in silver blue hair styled like Ann Landers and elderly gentlemen with elegantly tailored slacks draping their paunches (as well as can be expected. All the staff was black, dressed in starchy white uniforms and steppin' and fetchin' like they were in a 1930s movie.
I wasn't about to stay for the whole event. I took two pictures, pocketed a few business cards and headed for the buffet, where I grabbed two enchiladas verdes, a little pile of fajitas, a wad of guacamole and a little salad.
I sat with a very cute medical practice manager and an adorable young doctorette- fresh out of residency. I regaled them with funny stories, then split the second the speaker took the dais.
The DWP may not be especially mean this week, but I'm still suspicious. Her fashion accessory tonight is a doggy toy shaped like a shoe. Bitches love chew toys and these are from Jimmy Chew. $14.

Bosswear from Walmart Couture

I love to play a game called, "How much would you take to wear this to work every day for a week?"
My boss, "The Devil Wears Payless" dresses up every day in suits that look all right at first glance, but on closer inspection you can tell they are purchased on sale from places like Cookie's Discount Fashion Corral.
I decided to browse through Walmart's new collection of "higher end" womenswear and pick out something The Devil might like.
This fresh new suiting option is by George and it's called, "Women's Bedford Cord Blazer." On sale for only $14 (it originally retailed at $19.82), it's a versatile, seersucker-like salute to the sweltering summer heat of South Texas. And please note the detailing: oversized buttons, a kicky fob pocket with a matching button, black grosgrain accented flap pockets and 3/4 length, button tabbed sleeves for "getting down to business."

The Footwear I'd Like to Stick Up Someone's* Ass

From Payless, this $19.99 beauty would be lovely for The Devil Wears Payless's* tight ass.
From the faux leather in metallic gold to the double buckle ankle straps and the pointy heel and toe, this shoe screams low budget luxury for the Lady Lucifer in every office.

The Saga Continues

My boss, whom I am now calling, "The Devil Wears Payless" has doubled her efforts at passive aggressive torture. Now she's combined The Condescending Tone with a myriad of time wasting assignments I'm sure are designed to make me slip my publication deadlines, which she insists must improve.
Last night, I attended a bachelorette party for a friend at work, and one of the guests used to work for The Devil before she quit to take a job in Sanity Land. She was one of those chunky Hispanic women with the Sharpie-drawn eyebrows and the dark lipliner, and I could tell by looking at her she takes no shit from anyone.
She said, "Oh yeah, by the time I left my file was 8 inches thick."
She regaled me with funny stories and imitations that left me feeling complete solidarity with her.
I have no file yet- The Devil has carped at me about many minor things, yet none have risen to the written reprimand stage.
But I have made a decision to go on the offensive.
I plan to go to the CEO and let him know that I can't continue being supervised by The Devil, and unless a change is made I'll be forced to seek my professional joy elsewhere.
As for her, next time she takes that tone with me, I plan to remind her that I am a professional, I am 10 years her senior, and that I will no longer tolerate her condescending tone. Then I will send her an e-mail recap of that reminder, print it and start a file ON HER.
I sort of long for the days when I could march up to a jerk-off boss, tell them to go fuck themselves and walk out the door. Alas, I love my job and my coworkers and I'd like not to leave.
I just ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.*


*Thanks, Bob Dylan

An Offense to Almost* Every Texan

The recipe is simple: take the baggy skin from an elderly python, make the toes too long and the stovepipe too short, the heel too horsey and embellish with silly metallic threads and bumpy leather applique, then charge idiots $457.99 for them.
By Jo Ghost, these hideous boots look like they'd be at home at a Renaissance Faire in Waco. If her fat calves could fit in them, Crazy Eyes Bush* would pair these with one of her lumpy pastel pantsuits from JC Penney and wear them to Jenna's wedding.

What's Pink, Black and Monsterous?

Hey, I like comfy shoes as much as the next dyke, but these disfigured clodhoppers by Circa defy the concept of ugly. For $59.99, you too can wear the equivalent of humpback whales on your dainty hooves. And if that's not enough, the pirate decor is sure to scare the crap out of even the sturdiest little children.
Hey! Jenna Bush is engaged! Can you say, "Honeymoon Shoes"?

Rove's Loungewear

What better retirement gear for an old has-been queen like Karl Rove than Nick n' Nora's circus themed nightshirt? For only $39.95, Karl Rove can slip this roomy, muu muu inspired garment over his enormous head, slide on his "matching" red slippers and be ready to bend over and take whatever the day offers.
Where else can he find Three Ring comfort without paying Big Top* prices?
*He's already paid his "Big Top"

Footwear for Rove

Now that Karl Rove's career is over, I suggest some new slippers. These are red-state plaid Castro slippers, made by Globe. They presumably are named for the gayest neighborhood in San Francisco. At only $39.99 a pair, they feature soft suede uppers in a moccasin style loafer, with a whipstitched moc style toe, side quilt-style stitching accents and a corduroy-textured heel panel. Soft fleece top lining and a gentle fabric lining, with a cushioned insole. Flexible, lightweight outsole with a grippy gum rubber sole, perfect for maintaining balance while being ass-pounded from behind.

Okay, okay, Jeff-- Here's the Money & I'll Leave Quietly

Karl Rove, the gayish BFF of Bush 43 has suddenly decided to leave the White House Dirty Tricks Department to --uhh-- "spend more time with his family."
Yeah, right, a boy really needs his daddy the most once he's off to college.
Oh wait, Rove's leaving because Josh Bolten said anyone who plans to leave the Bush administration before his term expires "must do so before Labor Day."
What? Bolten's such a hard-ass that nobody's allowed to quit after Labor Day? Are you fucking kidding me? What's Bolten gonna do to those who leave after Labor Day, ruin their reputations? Ha!

Hmm.
Since Bush 43 managed to break every law in the book to keep Fat Ass Karl from testifying under oath to the Congress about his roles in outing Valerie Plame and telling Beto Gonzales who to fire, we can more or less rule out Rove bailing just before those particular indictments hit. So...what must his true reason be?

Well, with almost 100 visits to the White House under his belt and his 15 minutes of fame long since expired, my hunch is that gay hooker by night and amateur GOP journalist by day Jeff Gannon may have called his client Karl and told him he'd skip writing the tell-all book in exchange for a fat bag of cash.

And I think Karl must have gone to the secret White House closet of cash, skimmed off about $100k, put it in a Sak's 5th Avenue bag and met Gannon for one last ass-fuck and a goodbye kiss, leaving the bag o' cash behind. I just hope frazzled Karl thought to ask for the secret video tapes Gannon had of him pounding Karl's fat, pink ass.

Honestly, I think that's it.
So, I guess it's so long, you closet-case motherfucker.
Hate is such a strong emotion, so I save mine for evil pricks like you.

Mmmm! I can't resist these $628.95 beauties by Marc Jacobs.
I call them "Baggy Sack o' Shit" shoes.

Ugly Shoes

If all works out as I hope, I plan to start a regular UGLY SHOE feature on my Blog.
These are my first entry, by Cesare Paciotti, these couture beauties sell for only $521.95. Enjoy...

Miss Dilbert, Reporting for Duty

I have a job I love, editing a magazine with a great designer and publisher.
Alas, I have a boss who should be working in a mid-level management civil service job somewhere in Del Rio or Waco. She has zero experience in publishing or journalism, yet she gets to be the boss.
She loves for me to write reports for her.
Like she doesn't know quite what an editor does, she needs fucking reports that say what I do all month.
She always requests them when she thinks I am having too much fun at work, or when I am so busy with my REAL job that I haven't got time to pee.
She also likes to spring stupid questions on me, knowing I have no idea what she's talking about. Sample:

"Karen, have the metropolitan health status reports come out for this year yet?"
"I don't know."
"Well, you NEED to find out!"
"Is that Clark ____'s department at Metro?"
"Yes, and tell him we need several copies."

next day

"Boss, Clark said the reports aren't out in CD form yet, except they do have them on their website."
"Those aren't the reports I wanted, you need to call Nicole at Health-o-Metrics and ask for the health consensus reports."
"Who?"
"You mean, you don't read her e-mails!?"
"I read hundreds of e-mails, her name just doesn't ring any bells."
"Well, she's very important. You NEED to know her."

Later I ask around the office. Nobody's ever heard of Nicole or her fucking agency.

Call me snippy, but if Miss Dilbert wants to know about a report or some such nonsense, she can pick up the damned phone and ask for it herself. I'm not her secretary.
Ain't that the way it always is? You have a job you love and there's always that one asshole paper shuffler who outranks you and takes sheer delight in fucking with you.
I swear, when the woman takes a few vacation days she spends the whole time working and going to her beloved committee meetings.
Who the fuck can stand committee meetings? I'll tell you who, the chronically mediocre mind, that's who.

Please join me in praying that Miss Dilbert either gets offered a great job elsewhere, or gets embroiled in a tawdry sex scandal that causes her to leave town in utter disgrace.
Thank you.

I'm Back!

It's late and my eyes are too tired to write much right now, but after a week of ZERO internet service due to a horrible Vista Operating System and AOL at its usual worst, I have plenty to talk about.
Soon.