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Rand Paul’s Mr. Whipple Moment

Update New Toilet Offered to Senator Rand Paul

Grist writer David Roberts owns an Australian model that never clogs and uses less water than a standard toilet. “If he likes,” Roberts writes, “I will personally have one of these toilets sent to Sen. Paul. Perhaps it will change his life like it has changed mine. Perhaps it will reassure him that his freedom to flush his turds with lots and lots of water was not sacrificed in vain.”

Sen. Rand Paul (R-Whatthehellwerethosekentuckiansthinking), has a knack for the absurd. Politicians often talk sh*t, but Rand went off on a rant about toilets – and light bulbs, abortion, offshoring jobs, and the dangerous threat to society those inanimate objects represent…. at a hearing about energy efficiency standards for appliances.

I’d like to lay the whole story out, insane utterance by insane utterance, but I can’t understand it. For one thing, I’m not Charlie Sheening on angel dust nor am I Baghdad Bob. I’m just an average person who manages to get up and go to work each day and return home in relatively good physical and mental shape without having a toilet flush my right to life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, and incandescant light bulbs as though I was a whole roll of Mr. Whipple‘s best.

I also have an IQ somewhere north of a stale donut and I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt that you do too.

As I read the story, I kept thinking there’s an asylum somewhere with a bed that has his name on it. I actually felt sorry for the addlebrained goob. I kept thinking, “That guy needs some help. Good thing his insurance doesn’t have a death panel requirement, because he’d be right up at the top of the euthanasia list.” I kept thinking there had to something I could do or say to bring him back to reality. And then it struck me!

Rand hates low-flow toilets because he has to flush them 10 times to get rid of that dump he took after his last hallucinogenic flight of fantasy. Eureka!

Rand, listen carefully. Go to your bathroom. Take off your shoes, put your feet in your underperforming toilet and FLUSH – 11 or 12 times if you have to and sooner or later the world’s biggest turd will just disappear down the drain.

I love it when I can help my fellow man.

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Bless Me Father, For I Have Sinned: The Passion Play of Newt Gingrich

That Newt Gingrich is a passionate man is without question. He’s a more passionate man than Charlie Sheen, and that, that my friends is a whole lotta passion bein’ stirred.

Newt Gingrich, Passionate Man

Bless me Father, for I have sinned in the service of my country."

Newt’s been passionate about defending marriage from the awful scourge of people who love one another. So passionate, in fact, he separated with one wife while she was undergoing cancer treatment, to marry his high school sweetheart – who was also his geometry teacher…with whom he’d been having an affair for 6 years. That’s OK though, he divorced the schoolmarm for Wife Number 3 all on the up-and-up. Watch out ladies! Is that a foursome I see hovering in the background? Newt is, after all a passionate guy.

He’s passionate about other things too. For example, he’s passionate about BJs. Of course, he condemned Clinton for this. But, it’s different if you come by your BJ honestly, like Newt does – by innocently walking down the street and being surprised to trip and find his pecker has fallen into a woman’s mouth. Passionate stuff that.

But, he’s saved his biggest passion for his country. This patriot, by his every act, word, and deed, found himself so in love with Lady Liberty that he toiled for long hours grifting donors, lobbying lobbyists, and squeezing in the odd Contract on America that he broke down . He strayed. He divorced wives. Yes, he presumably even got illicit BJs. All for the taste of sweet, sweet liberty.

Ahhh, but the sweet smell of Lady Labia’s Liberty’s essential fluids also delivered him from his decadence and landed him on CBN describing his conversion and salvation through Catholicism – a religion uniquely qualified to cater to the passions of his ilk.

And now, Brother Newt, friend of God, and passionate of unzipped pant, bellows to the rafters, “HALLELUJAH! PRAISE ST. RONNIE OF REAGAN! – THE PATRON SAINT OF TEA PARTIERS WANTS ME TO RUN FOR PRESIDENT!”

“I am but a mere vessel of Reagan conservatism to use as St. Ronnie knows my destiny will surely take me. Oh, and log on to newt.org to contribute. Visa and MasterCard welcome.”

Now let’s hope that those hooligan journalists don’t ask him the most salient question…

If being a Congressman drove you to such passion that you lost your mind and fornicated like a Viagraized Easter Bunny, how will you fare being the much more passionately pressurized President.

Inquiring ex-wives want to know.