President Obama is a tough act to follow. Just ask Maverick (the old one in loafers). Had Jindal gushed forth draped in a bath towel and played “Blue Bayou” with kazoo and knee cymbals, the MSM would still have panned his performance. But delivery and style is secondary to true conservatives. They feast on substance. Ignoring comparisons to Kenneth the Page, Limbaugh hailed Mr. Bobby’s five minute SNL audition a successful swinging bunt. Brilliantly shooting down the president’s tax and spend harangue with soothing sing-song, Louisiana’s exorcist-in-chief reminded Republicans why their party enjoys soaring success with high school dropouts and populist-leaning stock brokers.

Bravo, Bobby Jindal. Let all talk of Palin-Plumber 2012 slink back to the moose blind.
Reagan’s heir has a new face, even if it makes Duke and Dixie Snopes edgy.
**********
Juan met Chief Running Tab, his favorite redskin, at the Fresh Scalp Casino for a long afternoon of poker losses and firewater. Curious about Michelle Malkin’s claim that the swastika is an ancient Native American symbol, I asked the Ansel Adams of cheese cake photography if he was aware of such a thing.

Sure. Haven’t you been to the tribe’s annual Schnitzel Tanz?
No.
Yeah, we goose-step around burning books, pining over how Jewish bankers stabbed us in the back, and then stole our buffalo. Mark my words, amigo, one day we’ll get the Sudetenland back.

Juan must apologize to Hot Air and Colorado’s white patriots for doubting their historical acumen. He will have to reevaluate his long held belief that Custer’s megalomania made Crazy Horse’s day.
***********
Local College Republicans were stunned to learn that 95% of Americans engage in pre-marital sex. Les Noodle expressed doubt that polling was conducted in areas where tongue kissing is considered sodomy.

It’s just another liberal ploy to reverse federal funding for abstinence-only sex education, said Noodle. Socialists spread the lie that teenagers have sex, and they don’t. Well, maybe some do, but their parents take drugs and believe in global warming. We’re taught that certain body parts are shameful until God blesses them through holy matrimony. Knowing untainted couples have no idea what to expect on their wedding night pleases the Lord. As part of our pledged commitment to purity, we encourage Young Republicans to shower and relieve themselves as quickly as possible. In fact, its best if they perform these chores with their eyes shut. Our chapter’s vice president, Missy Fingers, has never looked directly at her special place. She’s an inspiration.

Juan

Pre Wal-Mart Musing

Congratulations to Sean Penn. “Milk” is the only Oscar nominated film Juan saw this season; it was well worth the $47.50. Perhaps one day a pilgrim will present the hovel’s shrine to Eva Marie Saint with a copy of “Slumdog Millionaire”… rather than scratch-off lottery tickets. Juan must do some research before viewing “The Reader”. Depending on how much of Kate Winslet’s glorious flesh is exposed, the flick may replace “Inside Seka” as his favorite Christmas morning movie.
***************
Adler and I have made a very small bet. He predicts Glenn Beck will eat a live mammal on air before Memorial Day. I’m holding out for the 65th anniversary of D-Day. Mammal in this case is akin to an Econ 101 widget; there’s enormous leeway as to genus. The only condition is that the creature must be alive before the idiot takes a bite.

Should Santa Elizabeth smile upon our wager, Glenn will select a 200 pound chimpanzee as his entrée. Ideally, the chimp will be pumped full of Xanex thirty minutes before serving and properly tenderized with gun butts. After eleven minutes of babble about the evils associated with mental health, the furry primate could then be flung into Glenn’s lap: Bon appetite, Mr. Muggs.
****************
The only difference between AIG and a bottomless is pit is that a bottomless pit may serve some useful purpose.
****************
Gov. Mark Sanford (R-SC) has offered one economically distressed constituent his thoughts and prayers in lieu of “porkulous” bacon. Principled beyond the pale, Sanford’s concern is a touching reminder that Republicans are nothing if not fiscal conservatives. Juan suspects beneath unfettered free market orthodoxy lies the ghost of Mary Baker Eddy. The GOP (always handy with clever slogans) could easily substitute supply-side economics with Christian Science economics. The change is likely to cause temporary confusion among true conservatives: Global warming deniers know God is to science what Limbaugh is to black hurricane victims. But re-branding Ayn Rand’s tarnished reputation is crucial for the Ponzi scheme’s survival.

Christian Science economics could even promise to deliver nationalized health care dead on arrival. Herding the impoverished sick into reading rooms is cheaper than providing proper medical care. Senator Jim Bunning (R-KY) -- who has added seer to his short list of accomplishment -- might occasionally wander through and toe-tag patients with an imminent rendezvous with Jesus -- assuming that Jim’s extra-sensory gift enables him to spot the saved with reserved seating from the unlucky Jew on stand-by.
****************
AP Headlines: Burris Should Resign Says Sex-Scandal Senator; Adrianna Discusses Nipple Erections with Gordon Liddy; Michael Steele Urges GOP Lawmakers to Wear Underwear over Pants.

Juan




.

Wednesday's Child

To further drive home the point that our economy is well and truly fucked, W. is having trouble raising dough for his library. Donation checks for the proposed $500,000,000 dollar joke are in the proverbial mail. Enlisting Pere Bush to hit up his terrorist pals for petrol dollars portends that the turd has finally lost its bloom. It must be embarrassing for Decider to ask Daddy -- yet again-- for help. Educated speculation surmises that oil sheiks and war profiteers are facing financial uncertainty after padding Wall Street hedge funds with supply-side funny money. The once flush Carlisle Group has disbanded in disarray, and there’s no Savings & Loan loot for Brother Neal to steal. Had Operation Petticoat been more careful with wrapped pallets of fresh C-notes, the joke could have easily been constructed with “cost overruns” gleaned from Halliburton’s daily dry cleaning bill.
**********
Rep. Eric Cantor (R-VA) wants to be the GOP’s replacement Newt Gingrich. It takes big balls to think he could reprise Newt’s brief but puerile tenure. Not every grifter is blessed with the fat fruitcake’s loquacious bullshit; browbeating your cancer-stricken wife into signing divorce papers takes serious sand. To train for the role, Cantor should run over neighborhood dogs; maybe give children candy laced with X-Lax. Perhaps he could hitch a ride to Santo Domingo on Hophead One, lap up some salty sex tourist action, then return to champion legislation against internet porn. But Juan doesn’t think Cantor has the chops to channel Newt’s Lonesome Rhodes persona: He needs to aim his pop gun a little lower.
**********
George Will’s latest snark against global warming realists has unleashed broiling blowback. Caught using long debunked “evidence” to “prove” the Earth is flat, Will has yet to come clean. In fairness, Will has never mastered deductive reasoning. Like his fellow Reagan Vestals, the bow-tied devotee prefers myth over science. If Juan owned ABC, Will’s weekly Sunday screed would be performed in flowing toga. (Cokie Roberts’ contract would stipulate wearing an Easter Bunny mask).
***********
An enlightened state: Arkansas reaffirms the statute that bars “non-believers” from holding state office. However, believers can carry their firearms to church. I suppose there is occasional confusion at weddings where shotguns are prominently displayed.
***********
Media consensus is that Sen. Roland Burris’ days as a member of the world’s most dysfunctional Elks Lodge are numbered. Juan hopes that Ro hasn’t redecorated his mausoleum with signage that trumpets his latest political achievement.
***********
Willie Nelson recently celebrated his 75th birthday. To commemorate the occasional, Willie said: “I have outlived my pecker”.

Juan

B Flat

Ten days have passed since we last communed. Juan has been growing a salty facial affectation and experimenting with bearded kook-against-bad clam as novel literary devise. Alas, his quaggy Moby Dick is dulled from quixotic thrusts. Juan often feels like Monty Clift playing Freud, simultaneously attracted and repulsed by Susannah York’s hysterical vagina. Fresh supplies of Blend Number One (bless you, Medium Mike) hasn’t yet propelled the potty scribe to venture far from the hovel’s pituite environ or don the heavy plastic attire required for delicate litter box ‘deturding‘.

No pity, please. Save that tender grace for the gal with 14 kids. Red Wing is furnishing Ms. Suleman with free footwear to rear her brood; corporate America is not completely heartless.

There was a baggy lady, nesting in a boot
She ran out of sperm…
But not Food Stamp loot.
Her chicks are all quite frisky, swinging to and fro
Fully incubated…
High on Public Dole.

Bill O’Reilly can’t decide if he should shower-bone Ms. Suleman before or after beating her unconscious with Neil Cavuto’s head. Perhaps Bernie Goldberg can help Father Christmas decide on the proper, morally peculiar sequence. It’s comforting to know Murdock’s mouthy meat puppet is looking out for Juan. Not entirely convinced Cher is a pinhead, Juan is waiting for further proof of treasonous diva-speak. There’s no doubt, however, of Betty Rubble’s Marxist inclinations.

Juan consumes jarred samplings of spongy psilocybin before catching Glenn Beck‘s televised psychosis-cum-tent revival. The eyeball close-up was inspirational: Mormon clowns began dancing around after peering into his tiny car’s fly-specked window. Who knew Beck had the wet spark to combine Giacomo Balla and Emmett Kelly into an ongoing homage to impalpable spoof? The appearance of Cryin’ John Boehner will render the set awash in tears should Glenn and the tanned Cincinnati Kid delve too deeply into Buckley’s old toy box and discover a black baby Jesus. Babs Walters must be turning green with envy.

Blackwater, Inc. changed its name to Murder, Inc. in hopes of improving a reputation tarnished by wonton slaughter. Meyer Lansky’s relatives quickly filed an injunction, claiming copyright infringement. Unfortunately for the Lansky family, John Negroponte traded Vito Genovese a slice of the lucrative Bolivian sex slave industry for the rights during the Reagan Revolution. Negroponte’s son, Belial, claims to have evidence of his father’s DNA on a bloody Accademia di Vino cocktail napkin.

“It’s complicated”, said Gino “The Prick” Colombo. “We’re gonna have a sit down and work this thing out. If we can keep the Amway boys out of it, maybe everybody can stay off the mattress”.

The Prick’s sentiments were shared by Abby Fister-Gein, Blackwater’s Director of Human Resources. “Of course we're disappointed that the company’s decision to re-brand created such an outcry in the underworld community. Although Murder, Inc. was a good fit for our corporate culture, Bastardevil is available and meets our marketing criteria”.

Omega: Saying “porkulus” more than five times can lead to permanent mental retardation.

Juan

A Tubular Take

Juan‘s punch is pleased. Dr. Malan and your host go back many lunas. Doc’s Dodge Ram and medical kit were indispensable when paying my dues on the incantatory Yaqui stand-up circuit. The Doctor, known throughout southern Mexico as El Luz Callon, is quite lucky with firm senoritas and arty hat dances requiring fireworks. I still burst into girly squeals over the ‘ice pick incident‘. Please excuse me while I gasp for air. Ah, in pain but off the plywood. I’ll save stories about our lengthy incarceration inside Yucatan’s Pero que Dices prison for Valentine’s Day.
************
The Republicans have recalled Joe the Plumber from Gaza. This can only mean they’re getting serious about countering President Obama’s reckless job creation plan. Sammy Joe must strike a nerve with cage fight fans who prefer their lobotomized Will Rogers served with raw alopecia. Col. Larry “Pickles” Pepper, Sammy Joe’s agent, called me last week wanting to know if I was interested in ghost writing his meal ticket’s autobiography, tentatively titled “Joe Two Good Four Ewe: WTF?”

“NO!” said Juan.
“Come on, Juan. Doesn’t baby need new shoes”?
“I’m busy”.
“Since when?”
“Since Juan read Rick Warren’s book. Jesus wants me to live large. I’m working full-time, five hours a week. I’m allowed to slap the Old Lady around so long as there’s no tell-tale serious bruising. Juan’s blessed”.

And that was that; the connection went muerto. Add Pickles receiving lap dance-while-driving to the growing list of dangers associated with bumpy distractions when getting soaked in Verizon‘s wireless tub.
*************
Wonderful news: Work continues on the border fence. Real Americans will soon recapture jobs lost to shifty Mexicans. Juan can’t decide between a career in motel housekeeping or tackling the challenging opportunities available in areas that require college degrees, like live poultry evisceration. I’ll have to pray for guidance when making that decision. Unfortunately, Pastor Rick said shaking the Magic 8 Ball is not a sanctioned prop when beseeching divine instruction. However, draped in an official Saddleback prayer hoodie gives the petitioner an edge over those who worry Rosary beads. On a lighter note, Pastor Rick asked if Juan would please stop referring to tail gate parties as further processed animal sacrifices.
*************
Madame Rosa is convinced Tom Daschle’s red eyeglasses sank his confirmation schooner. I agree. Since when have rich lobbyists paid their fair share? Tom would be shunned, barred from the capital’s finer restaurants, if he treated his taxable income like an average middle-class schmuck. Another Tom is livid.

“Liberals are pussies!” shouted Tom Delay, Sugarland’s colorful bug exterminator. When asked to elaborate, the former “Hammer” made obscene gestures with a rubber hose. The small crowd that gathered around his van offered encouragement, egging him on to perform more revolting acts with his spray tank’s long appendage. Visibly exhausted after fifteen minutes of manic debauchery, poisonous tubing his profligate prop, Delay finally collapsed to scattered applause. Kathy Lopez viewed this as proof he’s planning a political comeback.
**************
Juan is saddened that Olympic hero, Michael Phelps, has tasted bong water. Our culture has gone up in smoke. It was only a matter of time. Dobson’s Gawd, like Elvis, has left the building and is eating fried chicken where metal girdle straps mean rough love for sexually confused adolescent males.

Juan

Dueling Banjos at the End of the Mind

The Conyers/ Rove tango extends well beyond what Einstein considered acceptable parameters for the space-time continuum‘s dance floor. Their buck and wing reminds me of the Star Trek episode featuring loud alien mimes caked in grease paint. (One protagonist was black on the left side of his puss, the other on the right; ergo standard yelling mime-against-yelling mime conflict). Eventually both were cast into the frozen void to forever wrestle with Gene Coon’s ponderous script. I’m guessing the moral is that mimes, whether vocal or mute, San Franciscan or extraterrestial, are always obnoxious. Relieved when Lokai and Bele were energized off the Enterprise, I recall muttering “finally”. Tucking my plastic phaser back into my jammies; I then stomped upstairs to terrorize Sis.

***High on Milk Duds and Coke, hope came crashing down when I realized Spock wasn’t going beat the dook out of Kirk with his Vulcan canoe paddle. Maybe girls liked the Captain’s smarmy machismo, but one particular fifth grade boy wasn’t impressed. Preternaturally drawn to Uhura, little Juan’s color blind heterosexuality stirred whenever she squirmed in her seat; Nurse Chapel not so much.

In fairness to Nurse, I don’t remember her sitting down that often or wiggling in such a way that enhanced the Federation’s female dress code. Had she very deliberately retrieved dropped medical supplies on a regular basis, my budding prurient interest in T & A would have been divided between the bridge and sick bay***.

Mr. Conyers,

To quote the late Joan Crawford, “There’s a lot of bitch in every woman - a lot in every man”. So get bitchy. Either Congress has the power of subpoena or it doesn’t. The Hollywood Ten certainly felt the coat hanger’s sting when they were ordered to Capital Hill. Here’s an idea: Issue an arrest warrant. Assuming Rove isn’t on the lam, he shouldn’t be that hard to find. Just look for a Fox News film crew. Perhaps Ollie North will loan Karl his old Marine Corps uniform - if you promise not to make him cry. No matter how many gun and knife shows the Lt. Colonel headlines, paunchy patriots can’t quite shake the disturbing image of Ollie revealing his sissy side. That’s why he chews glass and encourages illiterate Aryan Nation storm troopers to use his neck for choke hold practice. Testifying dry-eyed and defiant, Karl could daub that salty blot from conservatism’s starched brown shirt. Think of it as doing your part to encourage bi-partisanship.

Herr Rove,

Man up, Karl. There’s only so much glass Ollie can digest before he starts selling gooey semi-organic figurines to Freedom Rally geeks.

****************************

This year I decided to skip the Alfalfa Dinner and honor Robert E. Lee’s birthday by encouraging Allen Shirley to write romance novels via early morning phone calls. I was going to point the lawn jockey south, but two factors thwarted my plan: It weighs 4,000 pounds and my scary sense of direction. Accidentally aiming the lawn jockey north would be a senseless gesture, especially if I snapped my last good vertebra in the process.

Speaking of the endangered novel, “A Tale of Two Twitties”, my fictional account of Conway Twitty’s battle with multiple personality disorder, will be available in time for Easter.

Juan