I know this is last week’s story. But, I’ve been toiling in my own piss and shit for like the last four days suffering from some kind of mutant alien Klingon virus. Seriously, if Death of the Four Horsemen ever had to call in sick I could have taken over no problem.

And speaking of death there was one that occurred last week that I still haven’t written about yet. That would be the death of Michele Bachmann’s Presidential campaign. The funny thing is that I always knew this day was coming. We all did. Bachmann is such a perfect caricature of the social conservative wing of the party that she never really had a future in national politics anyway. Not to mention that social conservatives aren’t really the type to elect a woman to the highest office in the land.

But Christ did she try. Bachmann was like that one girl on the high school cheerleading squad who was actually convinced she was helping her team score points. And as much as I’d like to dwell on her doing a locker room full of football players, I won’t. That sort of thing demands… privacy. And some Judas Priest.

This is actually my point. When I think of Bachmann I don’t see her as a staunch conservative Congresswoman from Minnesota. I see her as an early 1990’s glam metal video star bent seductively over the hood of a muscle car wearing nothing but a foam bikini. And that’s what I’m supposed to see. They don’t want me to think about her record in Congress or her interesting views on your personal life. Because that’s when it gets all THE SHINING and she goes from sexy naked to shriveled, cackling and evil naked.

So why can’t I quit her? I don’t know. Maybe it’s because we’re both from the Midwest. Maybe it’s because we both went to the same college. Maybe it’s the way neither of us lets facts or common sense sway our views. Or maybe it’s because I know that deep down she also wants to do it dressed as a clown. Who knows. I don’t make the wine I just drink it.



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