Author Richard Cahill's Website--Living By Our Motto:"There Are No Stupid Questions, Just Stupid People Asking Questions Everybody else already knows the answer to."

The election of Mike Johnson, ultra-religious election denier, to the office of Speaker of the House was utterly unexpected to most of us, but insiders are saying that the choice was inevitable, since Johnson has the smallest penis of any Republican member of the house.
 
“And that’s saying something,” whispered one source. “We’re talking about old white guys. Lot of small shillelaghs in that demographic, if you know what I mean. But even known micropenises like Jim Jordan and Matt Gaetz are hung like herbivores compared to Johnson. Even Marjorie Taylor Greene has it hanging lower, sadly enough.”
 
How small is small, exactly?
 
“I’m not at liberty to disclose exact dimensions, but look at his hand size. Even Trump’s got bigger paws than Mike’s meathooks.”
 
The relation between hand size and penis size has only been established by rumor, not by science, you know.
 
“Well, there’s also Mike and his wife being extreme Christians. That’s a religion that’s particularly attractive for guys with pitiful penises, since their wives are told they will go to Hell if they seek out a wang that would actually satisfy them.”
 
Again, a solid argument, but not a solid proof.
 
“I know he’s tired of the House groupies telling him, ‘Mike, is that a small-caliber bullet in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?”
 
You’ve heard this?
 
“Many times. I mean, that’s why we elected him Speaker. Everyone feels sorry for him, so when we make his life a living nightmare as Speaker, he’s gotten all the sympathy he can handle already.”
 
You still haven’t convinced me…
 
“Even Lauren Boebert refuses to rub it.”
 
Okay. Say no more.

This Republican Congress has done nothing but screw itself for two weeks, ever since they cut loose their pandering liar of a Speaker and haven’t settled on another one.
 
Is this the greatest clusterfuck of all time? It is a massive one, a great, moaning orgy of incompetence. It is a cluster of clusterfucks. A Star Clusterfuck. A circle jerk inside of a clusterfuck. A shuddering heap of aroused white men straining to ejaculate a new Speaker from their midst.
 
These are not just people clusterfucking. Goats, (Scalise) hogs, (Jordan) and even some reptiles (Gaetz) are involved. The bleating, grunting and slithering echoes through the halls of Congress, to no purpose. The barnyard mass of Republican chickens tries to blame the Democrats for their habit of pecking at each other. The anointed idol of the GOP, the Tangerine Drama Queen himself, is taking time out from clusterfucking his own criminal defense to pull off his golf pants and leap into this oily orgy of incompetence, by anointing favorites and nay-saying others who are tugging and grasping at the slippery pole of Speakerhood.
 
But is it the greatest clusterfuck of all time? Traditionally, military adventures, from Troy to Afghanistan, have produced clusterfucks that shone like supernovas. Capitalism has had its own trousers yanked down on many occasions, from the panics of the 19th century to the Depression of the last one to the bank failures of this one. Big, mindless, gape-jawed occasions of group stupidity have plagued humanity throughout its history.
 
So, this may not be the worst. But, again, it may, for these Congressfolk are not mindlessly bloodthirsty militarists or insanely greedy capitalists, although there may be a few of those among the Republican numbers. These people were elected to lead the country. True, most of them were elected in gerrymandered districts by people who think the country would be perfect if their neighbors weren’t allowed to be immigrants or get abortions, but they were elected to lead nonetheless, and probably not to do what they’re doing now,  collapsing into a writhing mass of greasy, self-inflicted political sodomy, where the fucker becomes the fuckee in an eyeblink.
 
Nothing much we can do about it, though, except watch. I’m making nachos, if you want to come on over. Bring beer.

​We’re midway through October, so it’s time for the Christian right to get hysterical about Halloween. We’re not them, so we don’t bother with it much. A couple years ago, I dressed as Mr. Clean, having the hairstyle for it, and went to a pub with my Chihuahua. The dog was sporting a few strands of yarn crocheted together by my girl, and made a pretty convincing mop. We had a fine time. The dog behaved himself well. Fortunately. No one wants to hear the phrase, “Hey, your mop just pooped on the floor.”
 
We haven’t done much since, though. Our immediate neighborhood is pretty devoid of children. If we could count on at least a few tykes showing up dressed as goblins or celebrities, we would carve a pumpkin and give out some candy. Our neighbors, for the most part, are busy bankrupting the government collecting extra Social Security by living to ages even more advanced than my own. Even their great-grandchildren are old enough to drink.
 
No kids are going to be showing up at our door, but to be on the safe side, we leave the porch light off. If a misguided Halloweener knocks on it anyway, I’m sure we could find something to give the child. A slice of baloney, or a shot glass full of beer, maybe.
 
Accidentally, we behave as some Christian families are instructed to behave, which is to shun all trick-or-treating as a form of idolatry. They kneel on the rug and pray All Hallows Eve away, praying louder if some beggar after a sugar rush knocks on their door. Pastor John Ramirez, in particular, is violently against Halloween.
 
The Pastor claims to be an ex-Satanist, who died and went to Hell, met Satan there, but also met Jesus, who was apparently slumming in Hades that day, and returned to life a full-blown Christian, which means, like all of his kind, he is a full-blown party pooper. Christians who participate in Halloween are having a one-night stand with the Prince of Darkness, according to Brother John.
 
You heard him--that five-year-old girl dressed as a Star Wars princess, knocking on your door looking for a mini-Three Musketeers bar, is snacking with Satan. No matter how cute her curls or innocent her face, she is embracing Baphomet.
 
Ramirez is not unique in having talked to the Evil One. I have myself, both in person, but mostly on Skype. I haven’t chatted with Beelzebub, recently, though, because he strictly uses Microsoft Teams now. I see his point—going all Microsoft makes your world a more hellish place, as anyone who is forced to use Word or Outlook knows—but I don’t endorse it.
 
My impression of Satan is that he is like any middle-aged (although I’m aware eternal beings can’t actually be middle-aged) person, who, though successful in their field, has gnawing doubts about their career choice and is plagued by “what ifs.” His attention to his job wanders, and his imps have unionized. He couldn’t care less about Halloween, or most things, and is constantly trying to shunt souls away from Hell, which is dangerously overcrowded, mostly on account of free porn and Republicans.
 
He'd just as soon leave the holiday to candy manufacturers and John Ramirez. They’re the ones making money off of it, after all.

While rambling across the Net last week, I discovered the that the term "beige flag" is being used on today's dating scene. For those of you who have not dated since Al Gore invented the Internet, the term "red flag" is used to indicate a person it would be extremely unwise to continue dating, like a person wearing an ankle monitor or someone asking for money for drugs or an abortion on a first date.

A "green flag" means you should push the throttle up full on the prospective relationship. Green flags are things like your date having a reserved parking spot at his/her job, or owning a detached home at the age of 29.

The beige flag means that the prospect is okay, but they do have quirks. A good example would be a guy who only wears football jerseys of his favorite team at all times, or a woman who won't let you in your own dwelling before you take off your shoes.

What struck me is how easily the flag system can be applied to America's politicians. Trump is the King of Red Flags, 91 of them legal. It's really tough to put a number on the rest, but 30,000 is a nice round one. That's roughly the number of lies the Washington Post says he told while in the White House.

Joe Biden is mostly a beige flag kind of guy. He's way older than you, and he repeats himself sometimes. He's got a troubled kid and his dog bites people. Still, you could see yourself voting for him.

Ron "Meatball" DeSantis waves two colors of flags. On the red side, he likes to crush people and mice, at least of the Mickey variety. On the beige side, he keeps claiming he's going to get a big promotion soon, but he seems stuck in his current job to you, and the way his wife looks at him, you suspect him of being a Stepford Husband. And he doesn't know how to wear boots or laugh convincingly.

Robert Kennedy, Jr. is a parade of red flags. He won't even let his dog get a rabies shot, for fuck's sake.

Tim Scott claims he has a secret girlfriend. Red flag. If the man is not honest enough to admit he's gay, the Oval Office is no place for him. 

Nikki Haley changed her name so the hard-voting yick-a-doos of South Carolina would think she was white. Red flag or beige? The primaries will decide.

Mike Pence is a mass of beige. He won't eat dinner with a woman other than his wife, and he attracts flies. He wears his piety at all times like it was a Hoodie from Above, which gags a bit. He did choose to save the country when he had the choice, though, so if you want to make sure rapists and incesters  get their babies birthed too, instead of being aborted, you might consider voting for him.

Plenty of pols not currently running for the White House can be analyzed using the flag system as well. Some of the more prominent red-flagged ones include Lauren Boebert, who has never seen a bump in a pair of britches she was unwilling to rub, and Matt Gaetz, who brags about using Viagra so he can pump as many of his political groupies as are willing to lay down for him in a single night. Does he have a beige flag as well? Sure, that haircut.

And Gavin Newsome? Is he too handsome to be President? Or too handsome not to be?

The thinking here is that we'll find that out in 2028.

The Tangerine Drama Queen, while attacking the mental acuity of his prospective opponent in 2024, current prez Joe Biden, claimed that if Biden was to be re-elected, he’d be too much of a farting old drooler to prevent World War II.
 
As most of you are aware, nobody prevented World War II, which ended just a couple years before Trump was born, just as nobody prevented World War I, which started after the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand of Austria.
 
You ever want to see a blank look on Trump’s face, ask him who Archduke Ferdinand was.
 
Trump went on to claim that he’d beaten Barack Obama in 2016 and threatened to execute his former head of the Pentagon, Mark Milley. He also threatened to prosecute NBC for criticizing his makeup. Then he continued to complain about Joe Biden’s limited grasp of reality.
 
It’s true that Joe misspeaks occasionally. Republicans jump on every verbal error as proof that Biden is a slack-jawed senescent, and would endanger the US by being a geriatric vegetable rooted in the most powerful office in the land. Then, they say he is a clever crook, a mastermind capable of sucking bribe money out of Eastern Europe through a thousand devious shell companies, aided only by his coke fiend son, Hunter.
 
You say, “Probably they should make up their minds,” but don’t count on it happening. We have other politicians who are doddering towards the exit while still juggling the problems of the world, as this New Yorker cover illustrates. Besides Trump and Biden, Nancy Pelosi and Mitch McConnell are depicted. It’s lucky for the New Yorker that they left off Diane Feinstein, who actually was clearly down to her last few neurons and died very recently, long after the art had been drawn and the cover decided for that issue.
 
Yes, they dodged a bullet there. Mitch McConnell belongs there, having recently developed an unfortunate habit of, besides resembling an amphibian, of standing there, blinking and silent, like a frog that’s just sucked down a fly, while being questioned in the corridors of the Capitol. I don’t know about Nancy—besides seeming to have all her marbles, she is no longer Speaker of the House, but a mere Representative, although an honored one. If her brain cells start to atrophy, well, she’s just another nutty Congressperson, like Lauren Boebert, Handjob Queen of Colorado, or Marjorie “Gazpacho” Greene. The nation’s had many of them. We’ll survive.
 
Besides, how are the “young” politicians faring? Bob Menendez, 69, Senator from New Jersey, despite a previous criminal trial, was indicted again because he can’t keep his hands out of the cookie jar. James Comer, 51, is leading an impeachment inquiry into Biden, despite the fact that there is more solid evidence that the craters of the Moon are filled with candy corn than there is of Biden’s committing high crimes and misdemeanors.
 
Kevin McCarthy, 58 and Matt Gaetz, 41, are locked in a battle for command of the House of Representatives, despite both being Republicans. McCarthy is mentally suspect for wanting the Speaker job in the first place, and Gaetz would be on trial for sex trafficking if the testimony against him wasn’t being offered by an even seedier teen girl groper than he is.
 
It’s not the age of the politicians. It’s just that they’re politicians. Vote if you can, but afterwards, just pop some corn and enjoy the show.