The Horror: Rush Limbaugh is Invading Our Dreams, and Worse.
So, every now and then when the wife and I are watching C-SPAN, things can get a little hot, and our friend, affectionately known as ‘little Big Dick Durbin’ might make an appearance, and, well, you see where I’m going. Little Big Dick can get pretty excitable, leading the wife to naturally tell me not to rush. Normally this is fine, but lately it’s led to some horrific mid-coital brain flashes. In particular, there was last night, when she started with “No need to rush, honey. Now what should we do first?” A beautiful question from a beautiful woman. Unfortunately, the word Rush followed by the question triggered this memory for me:
Dear God, he’s stealing my soul with that look! I don’t even wan’t to mention the horrible visions I had involving Rush and Michael Steele after someone thought it was funny to call me the Man of Steel recently.
Can someone please move into the GOP power vacuum soon? What’s GW doing? At least that guy was funny.
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