Written by plinth course
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Topics: Republicans

Monday, 23 October 2006

image for Cornered Republicans Make Bids From Excuse City
"How can you blame ME for a leaky firewall?"

D.C. -- Just when you thought it was left behind (ignore that pun), now comes a priest from Gozo (can't improve on that) to say that he and Foley played slap and tickle in the Golden Age.

The Main Scream Mediocre (MSM) has tried to move on to more important issues, such as which baby Madonna will snatch from the jaws of near-death (of her career), but now IT'S BAAACK.

Can you say Ho Hum? The handy dandy abuse excuse is alive and well and living on Foggy Bottom (coincidence?), but we who are intellectually curious want to know more (Yes, you do.)

We'll start with the basic fault line. Foley, through his consigliere, says he (Foley, not the lawyer) sought the affections of young men (Average age 16, in case you don't know, and if you don't, how COME!) But he has his "reasons." In descending order:

1. He has a drug problem -- Viagra supply is low.
2. He is mentally ill or a dry alcoholic. Your pick.
3. He is gay -- not the happy kind.
4. He was himself abused at some point by that Gozo
priest, um, maybe 30+ years ago. That one is always
good cover for bad middle-age behavior.
5. He is disgusting.
6. He is a dirty old man.

Wait. Those last two came from my own subconscious. But I digress.

This piece is not about Foley himself so much as his pace-setting for the current mass hysteria in Republican camps, barely distracted of late by Hollywood baby snatching, to say nothing of the saber-rattling ... well, everywhere. Excuse-O-Rama, baby!

If you're gullible (What, in America?) you might fall for one of them. So let's look at the spread of the excuse-mongering disease. I need to disinfect this page first because, LOOK OUT, we're doing Hastert.

Hastert denied he knew anything about the page shirt-lifting scandal, and then he knew SOMEthing. But stay tuned!

Now Hastert claims he has fast-food induced trunk obesity that causes blood to rush to his solar plexus, depriving his brain of oxygen. In turn, his O2 deprived frontal lobe loses its firewall function, where covering up crimes is normally blocked from action.

This is the explanation given by his consigliere, J.J. Beginagin, Esq.: "It's true. Everyone knows that trunk obesity is a HUGE [good one!] problem, but they may not realize how it affects the brain. The lowering of the frontal lobe firewall causes de-ethicizing [add your own air quotes here] of the victim . We slims don't suffer that disorder. Our firewalls remain intact. Poor Denny has just suffered and suffered. Even his wife can't tolerate his suffering, preferring instead to stay in hotels when she's in DC. His live-in Chief of Staff is witless from watching Denny suffer. Poor Denny. Poor, poor Denny."

Your crying is audible...

Beginagin had further comments, but I'll leave them to your imagination. If you're slim, that is. The trunk obese should read Your Criminal Mind: It's Not Your Fault (James Joys, PityParty Press) for further insights into their own psychopathology.

Rumors are rampant that other Twinkie excusers are waiting in the wings. Here's my list, in progress:

1. DeLay may claim that the glue in his rug leached into
his brain. Don't use YOUR brain to think about it.

2. I. "Scooter" Libby will claim that his short stature
caused him to "act out" against the taunts of others
in grade school, where his short-legged gait caused
the nickname to stick (how precious!).

3. HP executives plan to claim that the out gassing of
formaldehyde from the Chinese imported wood paneling
in their offices caused them to have "early onset"
Alzheimer's, thus rendering them unable to remember
who ordered the spying.

4. Alcohol with YOUR DRUG HERE (any "therapeutic"
Big Pharma output) causes pedophiles everywhere to
fondle their little Lolitas (and Lolitos) because
the toxic combo forced them to believe that the
little bitches (gender-neutral, yaw meen!) were
asking for it. Viagra claim optional.

5. Ad infinitum

6. Fill in the blanks as if your ass depended on it.
You're a creative shit, aren't you?

Make plinth course's day - give this story five thumbs-up (there's no need to register, the thumbs are just down there!)

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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