That was close

I've been publicly humiliated before. There was the Passover dinner when I showed up as Jesus, the weekend my sophomore year of college when all my pants got ruined in the wash, along with all my non-leopard print bikini underwear, of which, honestly, there's like one pair - I don't know what it is I love about the leopard g-string, but it makes me feel...special.

But narrowly missing embarrassment? That's a new one on me. I don't know what it says about Senator Mitchell's staff's investigative skills, but I can't believe my name wasn't on that notorious list.

Did I just do that good a job hiding it? I'll admit my fastball doesn't sink like it used to, and my changeup has gone from filthy to merely unkempt. But look at my forehead! It's eight inches tall! Ben Affleck wants to know what product I use to cut down on the glare. Vince Vaughn is worried I'm going to cut into his acting opportunities (don't worry, Vince, no one can be as satisfied with themselves as you are).

And the bacne - let's just say I'm not allowed to turn away from Wife anymore. I have to back out of the room so she can convince herself my back looks fine.

The worst is that I've lost my testicles. They tell you horse steroids will make your jewels shrink, but did you know that African elephant steroids are available in any convenience store in Thailand? Mix that with some essence of squid duodenum, and you've got yourself a .650 on-base percentage. And nothing in your cup, but ask Barry Bonds, he knows it's worth it.

So thanks, Senator Mitchell, for leaving me off your list. I'd send you a campaign donation, but a sudden onset of roid rage compelled me to break ever writing implement in my house. Stupid penmanship, that'll show you!

What you know about that? Oh, I know ALL about that

HOLY CRAP

TI, I knew you had my Glock. You said you gave it back, and I believed you. So I yelled at Wife for hiding it, and then the kids cried, and I had to drag them back to their cages. But there it is – my gun, with its Hello Kitty sticker, for the whole world to see. Why do you keep torturing Jesus with your lies?

I bet you still have my hedge trimmer too, you jerk. Look at my hedges! Don’t turn away. Look at them! They’re repulsive! Everyone on the block walks by and laughs at them. My youngest son Sunshine was crying again when he got home from school today. You know why, TI? He didn’t say, but it’s probably because his snot-nose friends have seen my hedges, and they know you haven’t returned my gun, so I can’t hunt them down like last time.

You’re the worst neighbor ever. Keep the damn trimmer, I don’t even care anymore. Just make sure the Feds give me back my gun. I have some middle-school kids to hunt down.

Hillary is the New Satan

The National Review has recently changed the banner on its website to “Help Us Stop Hillary!” There is also an unflattering picture of her under a Ghostbusters-style red circle with a slash through it.

Some might say that it’s a bit premature to be concerned about a particular candidate, perhaps because:

- It’s 13 months until the election; or

- There are 3 months until the first primary; or

- According to recent polls, only 1/6 of primary voters in early states like New Hampshire and Iowa have decided for whom they’ll vote; or

- There are still 77 different candidates.

These people, though, are misguided, and un-American.

No one in my neck of the woods realizes the danger posed by the blond Senator from Chicago – I mean Connecticut – I mean New York. And I try to convince them, to show them how serious it is that she’s running. I throw out these salient facts:

1) She is a woman. And as we have seen in this country, no woman can adequately perform the necessary functions of the president, like having openly secret affairs with Marilyn Monroe, or Monica Lewinsky (ouch, low blow. But you know what? I didn’t think she was that ugly). Unless Hillary is a lesbian. In which case she is more qualified than I thought.

2) She is not a man. Men have ruled the earth for thousands of years. We built the Pyramids with brute strength, and competent math skills. We impregnated vast populations of ladies, using manly guile and sperm. Men have waged wars, awful bloody wars, that have become fodder for awesome movies. We slew entire species: the wooly mammoth, the saber-toothed tiger, the dodo. If one – most likely, based on the numbers, a man – were to venture up into space, one could see our creations from thousands of miles away.

3) Hillary Clinton is female. Chicks are crazy, man. This one time, I was dating this girl, and I forgot our three-week anniversary, and she burned my car, and sold my dog. True story.

4) She is Bill Clinton’s wife. Now, we all know there is a lot of stuff going on around the world about which we have absolutely no clue, let alone any sort of insight. Does Iran really want to be a contributing member of global society? Who knows? Is there an effective worldwide plan to stop global warming, and to discover cheap renewable energy? I have no idea. But I want my president to know these things. And if Hillary Clinton had no idea Bill was getting blown in the Oval Office by some intern, then how is she going to know whether Pakistan is selling nuclear weapons to Trinidad (but not Tobago – I wouldn’t trust those morons with a slingshot).

5) Did you know that bears can smell a woman’s menses? BEARS! She’s going to put the whole office in danger! (Just be thankful I limited myself to one Anchorman quote)

6) Hillary Clinton has been taken to task repeatedly for her fashion sense, or lack thereof (meeoww!). Recently, though, she’s been showing some sexy post-menopausal cleavage. If that’s the sort of skanky attire we can expect from her as president, she won’t get anything done. Imagine this nightmarish scenario, say, in a Cabinet meeting: Sorry, Madam President, I didn’t hear your revolutionary healthcare plan, I was too busy staring at your jugs. Oh, I dropped my pencil, could you reach down and pick it up? Thaaaaaaaaaaat’s it. Nice.

7) She is a woman. Women already have buildings in which they rule with an iron fist – they’re called houses. Give them more power, and it will be anarchy: mothers whipping out boobs to breastfeed in the middle of churches; The View will become the anchor show during primetime, right after Grey’s Anatomy, and right before Desperate Housewives; sensible clothing will replace ho-wear in clubs and high schools around the country; softball will replace baseball as the national pastime (not that I’ll miss baseball, but it’s the principle, dammit); and you’ll be able to walk in to any Bed Bath & Beyond and get your abortion, gay marriage, and free lung transplant while waiting for your highlights to set.

8) Finally, Hillary Clinton is not a man. She doesn’t understand tradition. There are certain things that are sacrosanct in this country. We refuse reasonable health care, because unlike Europeans, we never had a caste system, so we have to work hard to create one. Otherwise we get left out. And America doesn’t get left out. Also, every few years we have to get into a war. It’s not pretty, but it keeps these industries afloat: military-industrial, domestic-industrial, industrial-industrial, pharmaceutical, medical, transportation, print media, 24-hour television news programs, military fiction including books, TV shows, and movies, comedy, tragedy, satire, allegory, psychiatric, social work, religious, clothing, and Cher.

9) Oh, and she’s smart and unbelievably well-informed. That’s not the sort of type we want for the Leader of the Free World.

Please help us, then, both here and at The National Review. It’s not that we’re sexist, or chauvinist. We just don’t want some broad to show us up.

Is it War? Are We at War Yet?

9 million more toys recalled for lead content, first strike capabilities

We are a privileged generation. When you've got your grandson on your prosthetic knee, and he asks you between languorous picks of his nose, "did you fight the Chinese, Grampa?" you'll be able to look him in the eye, and say, "first of all, it's Poppop. Second, hell yes I did.

"When they made their first strike, we were caught off guard. What kind of sick bastards use toys as weapons? But then it turned out they'd put lead in everything: our clothes, our shoes, our appliances, our little troll dolls at the end of our pencils. Which, incidentally, don't use real lead. Ironic.

"And when the great Chinese magnets came across the Pacific, we thought they were UFO's. Yokels grimaced, and took down their overralls for yet another anal probing. Nerds rejoiced, and danced awkwardly. But I knew better. I knew they were finally coming for us, we finally got to fight against the great Communist threat, and I was ready.

"We fought them in the playrooms, and in the pantries. We fought them in the classrooms, over tricycles and sippy cups. Sure, I saw awful, terrible things. Young man, you never, EVER want to see a melted, disfigured Polly Pocket.

"They tried to poison us with toxic metals, but we had more bombs. And now the 'Great' Wall is nothing more than a doorstop for America's renewed manifest destiny. Yee. F-in. Haw. Now go run and get your Poppop a bourbon."