Oh, you’re serious? There’s a line here? Golly gee-whillikers, let me be the first to apologize, then. The thing is, you know, I hate to beat around the bush. I’d rather just take the shot and spit it out. What I mean to say is, I always figured if you’re going to be offensive, do it lovingly. And let me tell you, there’s a bunch of folks in this world that could sure use some loving, from what I can see.
Unless you’re talking about my use of the word which denotes excreted and less-than-fully digested food materials. If so, then I apologize unreservedly, and plead that my youth in the less polite regions outside the big city may have corrupted an otherwise squeaky-clean manner of speaking.

Hey, there’s nothing wrong with Christine that a very patient, very thorough and very patient lover couldn’t cure. She’s not any more nuts than a lot of people I know; it’s just that she seems to be a little tightly-wrapped. About a year of enthusiastic physical expression of pure relief might help her get through some of those emotional problems and able to think a little more coherently. Not that I’d be volunteering. I’m getting too old for this shit.

Hey, a Fugs shout-out! I have their debut album, which I’ve prized for years and years and years and years. I even replaced it with the reissue on CD (even more songs!) once the tracks got too buggered to play well. A bit uneven in quality, but to the discerning ear, largely pretty god-awful. I particularly love the Swinburne Stomp and My Baby Done Left Me, which I still regard as the finest example of Village Jewish Country and Western ever made. They’re too good to be mentioned in the same breath as those Komen crooks, but then again, what isn’t.

Drat, I didn’t stop to think my vote through, and now it’s too late! If Mitt the Knife had been elected, our Federal Government might be restricted to personal surveillance operations and making us Lesser Beings work the fields for a dry crust, a sip of filthy water and a hearty spooonful of gruel, but at least we would have been subject to Mormon Laws about wifery (and, of course, husbandry). I’ve always wanted several “wives” to keep pregnant, even if we wouldn’t have been able to spend much time together, or keep the kids.

“Can you imagine how empty she must be to allow herself to be filled up with college Republicanism and a gig at Breitbart?”

Oh, man, I was going to make a really vicious and offensive remark about how the young women I knew back in my prime (August 5-7, 1983) preferred more entertaining fillers than those rather flaccid and pitiful things, but luckily cooler heads prevailed and my senile dementia ensured that I forgot the punchline.
Oh, well – love the stamp, TB: black and white stripes (Black on white, or white on black? Who can say?), from Kenya – just like that guy, what’s-his-name, who’s our present national CEO.
Also, too, being the Ann Althouse of FDL is no small thing. I’m assuming you can hold your cheap red wine better, though (I can recommend some really nasty Hungarian export stuff, if you want; it’s both harsh and watery, but only costs about $1.75 a bottle). I’d settle for being the Michelle Malkin of Huffington. I can jump almost as high, and spittle-shriek as loudly, but I do have some small shreds of shame, so can’t manage the full effect. Oh, and there’s my incurable laziness and hopeless affliction of PWS. Impossible dream, I guess.

(a), yeah, I noticed some years back that the more often I told my wife how pretty she was, the prettier she got. Too bad for her it doesn’t seem to work the other way – every day, in every way, I get uglier and uglier. But at least I’m adorable on the inside. Or so my internist says.
(b) best wishes to Mrs. T, and hopes that the wrist responds well. If things don’t entirely work out as planned, here’s hoping that the left arm of Ron Wizard, Sir Cowabunga of Clubs, is not entirely fictitious and some smaller-scale version could be used to replace any less functional (but not, of course, less lovely) parts. Otherwise, rehab and PT/OT does work, but it’s a pain and not as fast as you would want. Still, a a hand with specialized fingers (laser, corkscrew, poison-dart projector, chloroform-deploying portable enticement snare, etc.) would be hard to pass up.

It’s not ED if you’re a Republican. You’re just a repressed homosexual.

“He will not rest until the entire world looks like the scenery in a Fallout game.”

Hey, man, those were great games. I’m ready, too – I’ve got a couple cases of water chips in the basement and my Daisy air rifle. Bring on the Radscorpions!

Eh, for all too many of us “successful leader” means “cruel leader”. All those terms: “great”, “strong”, and so forth, simply mean “cruel”. As long as he or she is cruel to That Other group instead of us, we think it’s fine. Human nature. Decency=weakness. Family Values=cruel authoritarianism.

Mrs. Romney, you know you’re not allowed to associate with the help. Stop that at once, or we’ll take Rafalca away again.

I like to do that with my wife, but I never thought of using food. Her ears are delicious on their own.

You know, just because the rabid lunatics of the GOP define “conservative” as “rabid lunatic of the GOP” doesn’t mean that anyone else has to. Those guys are not conservative. On a scale of 1-conservative, they’re so far off the chart to the right that they are in grave danger of breaking out of normal space-time and reappearing from the left of the screen. How about this definition instead:
Conservative – mistrustful of change; inclined to be cautious in usage and financial matters; not wasteful; prefers a nice quiet, stable life in a comfortable, familiar home to gallivanting off on adventures.
Personally, I regard myself as a natural conservative, although I do sometimes throw money away on a case of beer from time to time. I even occasionally try new beers to see what they’re like. If this be liberalism, make the most of it!

I’m sorry, TB, but speaking as an enlightened, sensitive, 90s kind of guy, this is just wrong. You go from Shakira (mmmm, Shakira) to Ms Wonderbra 1990, and then followup, when we’re all relaxed and unprepared, with Gawdsilla? For shame, Sir; for shame. I’m still twitching slightly.

134? Really? That’s the best we can do, and about a post which included the term “money passage”? How very disappointing. Reminds me of my visit to Hooters a few years back when I was younger and still testosteroney. I had been looking forward to it like a child at Christmas, and was deeply, even profoundly, saddened when the waitresses were not only somewhat less than curvy, but also a bit on the unattractive side and even (if you will credit this!) mostly not blonde! I felt like Slim Pickens when he realizes that Cleavon Little has been made the Sheriff of Rock Ridge, although perhaps less inclined to condoning the somewhat drastic cheering-up method suggested by his assistant. Maybe somebody could work up a number 6 on this thread to liven it up a tad. Do it for Shakira!

“..we all need to chill and just remember the wisdom of Homer Simpson:”

‘I’m not a very good driver!’?

‘Trying is the first step towards failure’?

‘Wonders, Lisa? Or Blunders..?’

Really, there are just so many possibilities they could fill a new version of the famous Little Red Book.

Also, too, it was kind of a shame to see the Iron Maiden die the way she did. It’s kind of a shame she, like the Sainted Reagan before her, was not able to experience a bit of what she had worked so hard to make the Lesser People suffer. Nasty bit of work she was, which of course was why she was so beloved by the people who get off on watching others suffer.

Admit it, TB: you were just trying to stir up the commentariati again and try for another 300-comment thread. This whole exercise in silly attacks on one side for humorlessness and the other for nasty-minded sexism is ridiculous. I think you should post two Shakira .gifs this week to make up for it.
Obama has his faults, but that comment was a nothingburger. Everyone who is all worked up about that should be ashamed, as should anyone who seriously commented that “feminists” have no sense of humor. As every man knows, it’s women in general who have no sense of humor. There, I hope that settles things.

I’m not worried about being forced to get gay married. I’m a lesbian trapped in a man’s body anyway, so I can just stay married to my wife. She says she’s a gay man trapped in a woman’s body, so we’re covered either way.

Hey, now! _Wrong kind_ of loving?! No, no, no. That would be Man-on-Turtle (ie a homosexual relationship with Mitch McConnell). Or possibly Man-on-Weasel (gay sex with Paul Ryan or Rand Paul or most of the rest of the House GOP). I don’t think there’s much a woman could be involved in that I would consider the “wrong kind”. I’m fairly *ahem* broad-minded, though.

“..Bible Spice..”

Well, now, let’s hold on there. On behalf of the comparatively far more moral, virtuous and intellectual (not to mention likable)* Spice Girls, I think this offensive characterization is grossly unfair. Please, stick to “Snowbilly Snooki” – neither of the referents can be the least bit offended. Heck, neither of them will know what it means, and both are likely to feel that it’s a compliment.

* Yes, even Mrs. Beckham.

But he was a hell of a painter! And such a dancer – he could dance the pants off Roosevelt! (This is called Artistic License, btw, so hold the spluttering “that’s not how the quote gooooooes!”)

Also, too, why all this Vicious Liberal Hate at Our Megan? Sure, she’s a pompous, self-absorbed nicompoop, and has clearly made up all those ridiculous letters herself, but I’m with fauxmax@38 – we can only hope that some of those knuckleheads who take her seriously are stupid enough (and wealthy enough) to actually try to use her advice. That wouldn’t put any of their money into general circulation, but it might be a useful reality-check for those who really need one.