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Blanche, the New Rose

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

by Blow Hard


Ladies, grab your wire hangers and get ready to give yourselves those back alley abortions you’ve always wanted. Gays, take those dicks out of those butts and cut them off while you’re at it. Old people and Terri Schiavo, please stay in your rewarding comas because it makes the Bush family and God so happy.

Now that Justice Sandra Day O’Connor, the poor man’s Betty White, is about to step down after an 18 million year retirement process, this court is about to suck even harder than it already does. Everyone assumed the new court would be so hot with the elevation of John Roberts. That John Roberts! He’s so handsome, so smart, so reasonable, everyone cooed. But his first dissent reveals a John Roberts who is nothing more than a big government ultraconservative radical judicial activist who wants to fuck old, sick people up their frail, scabby asses. In a 6-3 decision, the court upheld Oregon’s assisted suicide law, with Roberts, Scalia and Thomas dissenting.

With Sandra DO’C about to be replaced by Sam “Whites Only” Alito, who will save this court? My vote, not that I should have a right to one, is for Anthony Kennedy. It was this mild-mannered Reagan appointee who recently sided with the far left on retard death penalty cases and signed on to the homosexual agenda in Lawrence v. Texas, the 2003 pro-butt fucking case. Kennedy is poised to be the new O’Connor, only more Rue McClanahanish.

Goin' to the Chapel (via the cleaners)

Monday, January 02, 2006

by TaffyPuller


There's a Sex and the City episode in which Carrie goes to an upscale child's birthday party thrown by one of her upscale gal pals (played by award winning coke whore Tatum O'Neal). Through some Komedy Klassik hijinks, Carrie ends up being separated from her beloved Manolos at this party, and Tatum refuses to reimburse her for the crushing loss, despite the fact that it is technically her fault that Carrie lost the shoes and that Carrie has spent thousands of dollars over the years celebrating Tatum's marriage and each of her childrens' birthdays. This inevitably leads to Carrie wandering her apartment in some crazy ass bag lady outfit, wondering via voiceover why single people get the short end of the stick when it comes to celebrating the major life moments of their married friends.

I'm feeling a little like Carrie right now. And it isn't even because of my straight friends. Now that the damn Gays are having weddings (for reals in Massachusetts, even), I am suddenly expected to spend a fortune on celebrating their sickening love and deluded committment. Am I bitter? Yes, yes I am. Nobody's purchasing ME gifts from a registry. Nobody's throwing ME a bachelor party with a tranny stripper and novelty dildos. And the topper is, I actually had an enGAYged friend pull the old "Sooooo, who are you bringing as your date to our wedding?" on me. Listen up people: one of the pleasures of being a gay dude is that you don't have to worry about scaring up a date for weddings just so you don't look all Bridget Jones pathetic in front of your friends who have managed to close the deal already. I'm not a fat straight girl, don't treat me like one. As a gaysexual, I reserve my right to come to your wedding alone, abuse the open bar, and fuck EVERY guy at the reception. You have been warned.