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."

“You don’t pay someone $130,000 not to have sex with you.”--Mitt Romney
 
True wisdom from the lips of the only Mormon to have come close to the Oval Office. Of all the torrent of lies that have spewed forth from the Tangerine Drama Queen’s lips since his toddler days, which we can safely assume vastly exceeds the thirty-thousand or so he told in the mere four years he was President, according to the Washington Post, none is more widely disbelieved than the one Trump tells about never having had sex with Stormy Daniels.
 
From the furthest leftists who are still scrolling through PornHub every day hoping that the pee tapes finally show up there, to the most virulent Trumpster living in a trailer in the woods, painting "Trump" on all his ammo clips because that's the only word he can spell correctly, not a single person in the English-speaking world believes Trump when he says he never pulled out the mushroom on the Stormster.
 
Even STEVE BANNON, still out on bail pending appeal, freely admits “I want to return modern society to the Middle Ages, especially because nobody took baths back then. Guys like me could get laid by peasant girls just for being a knight or a monk, no matter how sweaty and rank we were from slaying or praying all day but, in the here and now, I’d love to put my flakey old manhood into Stormy just like Trump did. I’d even let her shower  after.”
 
ALINA HABBA, one of Trump’s many lawyers, is on the record as saying, “Donald Trump never did anything wrong or illegal, ever. Even criticizing the size of his great dimpled ass is political persecution. And putting the wood to Stormy was not illegal. Otherwise, we’d have to jail thousands of dudes, am I right?”
 
PAULA WHITE, Trump’s spiritual adviser, says, “I have spoken to the Lord, and He has forgiven Trump for taking a porn star to the boneyard right after his wife had given birth. Trump has been anointed by God to save America, and when God plans on saving His favorite nation, He’s not going to let a few minutes of lust between His anointed one and some harlot begging for his passion-filled wee-wee interfere with His Will.”
 
FRANKLIN GRAHAM, another evangelical fan of Trump’s, said, “Trump is the Way, the Truth, and the Light, just like Jesus. And just like Jesus tapped Mary Magdelene, Trump porked that strumpet. Verily.”
 
LINDSEY GRAHAM (no relation to Franklin) and TIM SCOTT, both Senators from South Carolina, issued a joint statement: “Although neither one of us could imagine ever having sex with a woman, we certainly concur that that Donald for sure shoved his brave member into the pulsating, nasty va-jay-jay of that notorious porn ho. Yuck.”
 
MELANIA TRUMP was quoted as saying. “He fuck her. And he pay. I fuck every pool boy at every golf course on the East Coast to get even. I even tell Barron to call any man with a skimmer or a bag of chlorine in his hand ‘Daddy.”
 
So, there you have it. The one lie Trump’s told that absolutely nobody believes. Will he tell it under oath, if he drags his plump ass onto the witness stand?
 
You know he will.

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.

The Rapture did not happen yesterday, September 22, 2023, although it was predicted to do so. The cynics jeered once again, because predictions of the Rapture have failed before--here, here, and here are a few examples of the Final Days not occurring when scheduled.
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This time, though, Jesus has a good excuse for not returning in glory to judge the living and the dead—he was busy forgiving the Christian congressperson from Colorado, Lauren Boebert, for getting “eccentric,” (her word—it’s okay if you read “drunk,” instead) at a musical in Denver.
 
Boebert, an avowed Christian, advocate of family values and merging church and state, was videoed vaping, singing, groping with her date and giving security the finger as she was tossed out of the theatre on her Freedom Caucus tushie.
 
That’s a lot of Commandments to break before intermission, and then she pretty well fractured the Eighth when she tried denying it all, before being shown the videotape.
 
But, according to standard Christian theology, she can be forgiven if she asks for forgiveness, and when she did, Jesus had to strap on his best forgiving sandals to get the job done. “Me Christ,” he muttered. “Push back the Rapture again. This job is going to run through the weekend.”
 
Jesus’s main squeeze, Mary Magdalene, and his side chick, Joan of Arc, were already mad at Christ’s plans to incept the Apocalypse Saturday or Sunday, depending on what time zone the quivering sinners he was going to condemn to Hell lived in, since both had plans for His Body, as they usually did over the celestial weekend. His plan to spend it forgiving Lauren Boebert instead, and ruin some future weekend fun with a dreary old Final Day then, had both of them boiling over.
 
“What can I say?” Jesus told them. “She fucked a Democrat. You just can’t snap your fingers at that. Forgiving a loathsomely horny hypocrite who bleats about following Me is something I have to work myself up to. It’s not like forgiving masturbation, which I already have to do a couple times a day, in her case.”
 
“I still don’t see why it has to take the whole weekend,” Mary Magdalene said, bitterly.
 
“Being the Redeemer of the World is a job, you know. With great power comes great responsibility.”

“THAT’S SPIDERMAN! NOT YOU!”
 
“Yes, but I like it. I often wished I’d added that to the Sermon on the Mount, instead of leaving it for Marvel to snatch up. Now, run along. You can always go to Hell and watch Satan’s imps eviscerate Pat Robertson, like they do every day. You know you like that, and it helps work some of your anger out.”
 
So, Jesus is still forgiving Lauren Boebert while this is getting typed. That’s why we didn’t have the Rapture yesterday.
 
Lauren is going to be cool with Christ by Sunday. Whether she is going to be cool with her voters remains to be seen.

In the collection of cringe that is the Senatorial campaign of former football star Herschel Walker another noteworthy nugget of knuckleheadery dropped this past week. Apparently, another woman whom the erstwhile running back had begged to abort his child had recorded some of his horny yowlings on tape during their affair, the most notable of which was Herschel murmuring on her voicemail, “Ah you, this is your stud farm calling, you big sex puppy, you.”
 
No one can say for sure this is the worst pickup line ever uttered in English, but the women of America certainly don’t want to hear any attempts to compete with it. The state of Georgia’s favorite pickup line, i.e., “Git in the truck,” is the soul of grace and humor compared to this awkwardly mixed metaphor about dog breeding.
 
It was enough to make me wonder whether other, more senior Republicans had their own favorite lines they used when they went a-courtin.’ I asked my sources and it turned out that, indeed, Republicans have their own special vocabulary of love. Here’s just a few examples:
 
“I’m your turtle and you’re my dove, baby. You make my carapace hard.” Mitch McConnell
 
“I know skinny, cowardly little traitors turn dirty girls like you on. Catch me if you can.” Josh Hawley
 
“The Republican Party has a new big reptile, baby. Come sun with me on the Florida rock of my love.” Ron DeSantis
 
“I’m horny, you’re horny. The guy who dropped you off at the gym—do you think he’s horny, too?” Marjorie Taylor Greene
 
Just call out “Hunter! Hunter!” when we’re making love, baby. That’s what makes me hard.” Kevin McCarthy
 
“Mommy, not while Jesus is looking.” Mike Pence
 
“Come on, cowboy, stuff my ballot-box like you were a Democrat.” Kari Lake
 
“Wear this wig and call me Daddy, and you can make it great again.”  The Mango Mussolini
 
“Ah you, this is your stud farm calling, you big sex puppy, you.” Lindsey Graham

When young, inexperienced liar Madison Cawthorn dropped a dime on coke-fueled Republican sex parties last week, the internal squawking in the GOP was so loud you could hear it from Hawaii.  The suggestion that the party of prayer breakfasts and restroom police was dropping trou and railing blow in their off-time really made the poo hit the fan, and most of it sprayed back on Cawthorn.
 
At first blush, the idea seemed impossible. The Republicans are the party that hates sex. From gay sex to group sex to transgender sex in gender-neutral high school bathrooms, the Republican party is against it. The only sex Republicans approve of is rape sex, and only that if pregnancy results and the rape victim is forced to bear the rapist’s child. That’s a good time, according to the GOP.
 
Republicans are usually against drugs, too, as a matter of policy, though in real life they’re just as happy to consume drugs as the average non-Republican American. The smell of weed permeated the Capitol riots on January 6th, and if you’re contemplating overdosing on fentanyl, wearing a MAGA hat gets you first in line for a shot of Narcan if you live in a place like West Virginia.
 
The other problem with Cawthorn’s tattling on his fellow Repubs is that, if you’re looking for pleasant company for bumping uglies and sniffing nose candy, why would you choose Republicans? Maybe Cawthorn would be a good pick because he’s a handsome young guy. And he’s in a wheelchair, too, which means you can do anything you want to him from the belly-button down, and he won’t even feel it. Plus, you can rest your coke mirror on his head. But the rest of them? Mitch McConnell? His wife made him sign a pre-nup that said, among other things, that she never had to look at him naked, unless he got her a Cabinet position.
 
Okay, so Mitch figured out how to worm around that one. He’s crafty, but not sexy. Everybody’s seen that picture of Ted Cruz fleeing to Cancun. When a guy looks that shitty in a tucked-in polo shirt, the chances of him looking better naked are as remote as the James Webb Space Telescope. Perennially chirpy Republican small-dicks like Josh Hawley and Rand Paul are nobody you want to have at your party when the lube starts getting passed around.
 
Marsha Blackburn is a tough old gal who could probably hold her own at an orgy until dawn’s early light. Marjorie Taylor Green is the kind of girl who would pull a train on a dare, and Lauren Boebert probably is only about 50% sure who the father of her children is, but the rest of the Republican girl field is small, because Republicans don’t elect too many women. It’s why they want Kirsten Sinema to switch parties. Not so they can control the Senate again—just so she can make Republican orgies less of a sausage-fest.
​
When Kevin McCarthy, who’s still on course to be the most comically afflicted Speaker of the House ever, called Cawthorn onto the carpet, the first-term prevaricator said that he might have been exaggerating the richness of his sex life, as 26-year-olds are prone to do, and the coke he saw being snorted might have been a Republican staffer putting his golf clubs in the trunk of his car, because it’s tough to tell the difference from a quarter-mile away.
 
McCarthy said after the meeting that Cawthorn would have to “earn his trust.”
 
In Republican-speak, that’s “lie more convincingly.”
 
Cawthorn immediately said “the left and the media,” not himself, were responsible for his far-ranging fantasies.
 
Boy’s a quick learner.

The most famous testicles in all the world now nestle in Trinidad, thanks to pop star Nicki Minaj’s series of tweets regarding the side effects of a coronavirus vaccine.
 
This friend-of-a-cousin has yet to be identified by Minaj, so it seems that while his nads are enjoying their fifteen minutes of fame, he will remain anonymous himself. His story is a sad one, though. After getting a covid jab (which one is also anonymous) NMFC, as we will refer to this unfortunate soul, experienced testicular swelling and impotence, causing his fiancée to cancel their impending wedding.
 
In Minaj’s telling, this luckless Trinidadian lost both love and his boner on account of the vaccine. Now he has swollen balls of the blue variety, and those fat nuts dominate the Twittersphere.
 
Minaj urges her followers to “do their research,” before submitting themselves to the risk of ball-swelling and peen shrinkage that may be a side effect of the vaccine.
 
Minaj’s musical repertoire includes Bottom’s Up, Bang-Bang and Anaconda, which implies that she’s done her research into balls and dongs, and rather extensively at that. What she isn’t is a viral epidemiologist, and while many viral epidemiologists may softly rap the lyrics of Anaconda to themselves while they work, or even modify those lyrics to make them relevant to the lab, i.e., titrate that shit on me, baby, those people agree pretty unanimously that getting vaxxed doesn’t have gonadal side effects.
 
What does make your nads swell is a plain old STD like gonorrhea or chlamydia, and a known cause of chubby loss is your fiancée shrieking “Get that diseased thing out my face!”
 
Regarding this alternate theory on NMCF, Nicki is scheduled for a call from a White House doctor to patiently explain it to her, in hopes that she will recant and urge her followers to get vaccinated, and the Minister of Health for Trinidad had a major public hissy about how full of shit Minaj was.
 
And, speaking of people who are not qualified to do their own research, I can confidently report that after taking two experimental shots of Moderna, blindly following the advice of the CDC, the lovable ovals in my own trousers have experienced neither swelling, shrinking or hair loss.
 
Turns out that sheep have naturally big balls.