A New Front in the War to Seize the Uterus

Rep. Wayne Christian
Texas House of Representatives

Dear Rep. Christian,

In these times when wickedness ravages our nation like Queen Esther's consort assaulting a peephole, I rejoice when I hear a politician speak out for righteousness. It fills me with such great joy, I lose control of my praise arm. It involuntarily snaps up toward the heavens at a perfect 45 degree angle--palm, forearm, and shoulder rigidly aligned in a salute to the one true moral order.

I know I should be thankful that Jesus gave me this joyous praise arm reflex, but sometimes, it breaks things. Last night, it destroyed my computer monitor. You're partially to blame for that. You triggered it with these words:

Well of course this is a war on birth control and abortions and everything, that’s what family planning is supposed to be about.

I'm not angry with you. A computer monitor is a small price to pay in order to witness a politician finally speaking the truth about Our Glorious Struggle to Seize the Uterus--it's not simply about abortions; it's also about contraception.

But I'm afraid you're not fighting this war properly. Going after contraceptive providers isn't enough. What about those wicked not-men who demand that their partners complete the act outside of their womb tunnel? What are you going to do with them?

I think I can help. I've developed a bungee-based device that when strapped to a couple, limits the amplitude of a man's secret parts. Put simply, the device stops a mans hips from moving more than and inch and a half, just short of the 1.75 inch distance a normal man requires in order to disengage his little soldier from a not-man's woo woo thing.

All I need from you is as law requiring its use during sex. Texas can lead the way on this. Once you do it, the rest of the states (OK, well, Oklahoma) will surely follow.

I'd be glad to demonstrate it for the proper committee if you could find a not-man willing to do it with me.

Heterosexually yours,

Gen. JC Christian, patriot

p.s. Are we cousins? If so, do you have a sister?

EPA Quashes Cattle Barons' Dreams of "Better Fishing Though Chemistry"

For the last few weeks, the patriotsphere has been awash with rage over the EPA's heavy-handed treatment of one of the Heartland's most cherished and Kochian beef moguls. It all began in late August when cattle baron Mike Callicrate told attendees of the 12th Annual R-CALF USA Convention that the EPA had initiated an enforcement action against his feedlot, declaring:

Now that EPA has declared hay a pollutant, every farmer and rancher that stores hay, or that leaves a broken hay bale in the field is potentially violating EPA rules and subject to an EPA enforcement action. How far are we going to let this agency go before we stand up and do something about it?

Modern-day minutemen responded immediately by taking up their keyboards to broadcast this travesty. "EPA Declares Hay a ‘Pollutant’ To Intimidate Ranchers," screamed Alex Jones' Infowars. " JUST ANOTHER EXAMPLE OF AN OBAMA AGENCY RUN A MUCK. The EPA must be stripped of all funding..." blogger Jim Campbell declared in the all caps style so preferred by the Bachmannian blessed. And our most beloved of citizens, the courageous Freeper-American community responded by calling the EPA, "ecoterrorists," and demanding that EPA staffers be imprisoned and burned alive.

The threats of execution caught the EPA's attention and they responded with a press release:

The owner of the Callicrate Feeding Company has been spinning a “hay-as-pollutant” myth through the blogosphere for a couple of weeks now. While the company is certainly entitled to its own opinions about EPA, the company is not entitled to its own set of facts.

To be clear: The order had nothing to do with hay. At no place in the 11-page order is the word “hay” mentioned. Nor is there mention of alfalfa or grass.

So why did EPA file an administrative order against one of our nation's most revered cattle barons? EPA's press release has the answer:

EPA cited the Callicrate operation for failure to control harmful runoff, maintain adequate manure storage capacity, keep adequate operation records, and meet the state and federal requirements of its nutrient management plan. Compliance Order (PDF) (11 pp., 1.5MB, About PDF)

EPA inspectors observed silage, and dried distillers grains within the uncontrolled feedstock storage area.

When stored inappropriately, the silage and grains can turn into a liquid material that contains contaminants detrimental to water quality.

I can see why beef mogul Callicrate was confused. Both hay and silage are cattle feed. The former is dried grass, alfalfa, or timothy and the latter is chopped corn stalks and ears.

The fact that it's silage rather than hay makes the EPA's actions worse. Silage, or more accurately, silage leachate, the foul-smelling dark liquid that results from storing silage, is a product that cattle barons can use to diversify their operations.

Silage leachate's bio-chemical composition makes it a perfect tool for commercial fishing. Its capacity to rob water of life-giving oxygen is 150 times greater than human sewage--you only need a little to bring a lot of fish floating to the surface.

It's high acidity, corrosive enough to eat concrete and steel, jellifies the fish, allowing cattle baron fishermen to harvest gefilte fish and lutefisk directly from a stream--no processing necessary.

And hey, the high ammonia levels, well, who doesn't want their sinuses cleared while spooning up a big heap of fish jelly.

As for for nitrate levels high enough to turn your infant blue, well, cyan babies are great conversation pieces until God answers your prayers.

Andrew Breitbart's Terrible and Powdered Nose of War

Andrew Breitbart
Founder
Things with Big In Front of Them

Dear Mr Breitbart,

Like you, "they call me [the] Gay;" and, like you, they call me a drunken, cocaine-addled, wanger-obsessed, lying publicity whore--OK they only say the drinking and cocaine stuff about you, but my reaction is the same. I want to shoot the bastards. I mean, by God, you're right: murdering someone who calls you a homosexualist is justifiable homicide.

Yeah, that'd teach them homosexualist-accusing sumbishes. Ha. Ha. Ha. Yeah:

Hey, are you talking to me? Yeah you. Are you talking to me? Are you calling me a friend of Dorothy's?" Boom. Boom Boom. Ha. Ha. Yeah.

And the same for all their friends too. As you said:

They cannot win. We outnumber them in this country, and we have the guns. I'm not kidding.

Yes, we have the guns. We can annihilate all the mockers. And we can do it in the colorful, folksy, and milspeakish kind of way that excites our base so much:

You there. Hold still for a spell, you elitist, book-learned sumbish, so I can Kilo India Lima Lima your Alfa Sierra Sierra with this here large caliber, long barreled firearm that has nothing to do with not-men laughing at the size of my little soldier.

Oh man, yeah, ohhhh, I love talkin' like that. Yeah, ohhhh, yeah, I gotta go.

Heterosexually yours,

Gen. JC Christian, patriot

Department of Book Reports: Alcoa's Book of Decorations

Maybe it's the change in the weather, there's no denying Fall is here, after a week or so of summer. Maybe it's the folks who open my door & cackle "is this a Liberry??" Or, demand I find out just what the hell is going on with our shipping department, because Dover Publications has not delivered the book he ordered with that last tear out page in his book... (Turns out, he thinks I'm a subsidiary of the publisher... because I have a Dover rack in the front window.) Lately, the arching Eyebrow of Death just hasn't had it's usual withering power. Maybe you feel like me... In need of a new hat. Well, I have just the book for you!


Talk Like a Pirate Day is coming up on Monday. In Second Life, we'll be partying at Redwood Rhiahdra's place. If you are stuck in RL, perhaps this hat would help.







Tin Foil is so versatile, you can fulfill all your childhood fantasies with your very own Pippi hat. Be the Pippi!


Maybe you'd just like to be a Space Cadet.. on your own little world.





Did you hear Henry Winkler got honorarily Knighted for his Hank Zipfer books?








There just isn't any holiday this book can't turn into a nightmare.



I trust I have not infringed on copyright here, but if Alcoa does decide to pursue photo useage, I'm pretty sure Dave vonE can successfully argue it was a bad idea to produce this book in the first place.
I hope that you have found your very own Fall hat here. Which one will you be wearing? Alcoa's Book of Decorations is available at Jackson Street Books. I'm pretty sure the other Fine Independent Bookstores have the good sense not to stock it.

Republican Jesus Defends Sister Sarah

And a rare photo of sportscaster Sarah.


A tip of the ol' helmet to reader BS.

Joe McGinniss is a God Damned Liar

Our Lady of the Wolf Slaughter snorted cocaine, engaged in unconfederate acts of miscegenation, and rode Todd's business partner like a snowmachine on moguls. Those are the claims Joe McGuinniss is making in his soon-to-be released book, "The Rogue: Searching for the Real Sarah Palin."

Of course it's all bullcrap (mostly). Sister Sarah's a hero of the Heartland. She wouldn't be snortin' no urban nose candy. She'd be firing up some good ol' American methamphetamine. I bet she was just playin' with the crank on that oil drum while Todd was using a pair of pliers to straighten out their needle.

And surrendering her virtue to an unheartlandlishly hued basketball player, who hasn't done that a few handful of times? Heck, I'm still walkin' funny from that night with Wilt Chamberlain back in '74. Yeah, it's a sin, but I mitigated it by demanding he call me "Wendy Sue." And besides, a person can't be blamed for succumbing to that basketball mojo, especially with players from the short shorts era. I mean, good Lord, I bet Jesus, himself, drove hard down the lane whenever he saw Curley Neal bend over.

As for Snow Machine Brad, there's no way Sarah lubed his slide rail. She couldn't; she's married for chrissakes.

You wait and see. It's going to come out that McGuinniss is a god damned journalist. They never have anything good to say about Sarah.

Leah Dons her Naughty Pantaloons

My friend, Christian domestic discipline romance novelist Leah Kelley, disappeared from the intertubes shortly after I last spoke to her four years ago. Thankfully, I stumbled onto one of her postings last night. It sounds like she's doing very well:

So now on cold days I wear crotch-less pantaloons with knee-high socks or hose. They are made from soft cotton muslin. They usually have a ruffle or lace at the edge. They are comfortable and definitely make me feel feminine, and I am still “available” for my husband. Problem solved.

And she's still churning out the books:

Spanking Romance Stories - Freedom & Prejudice Collection
Ebook Price: $5.99 USD. 49410 words. Fiction by Leah Kelley on December 2, 2010
~56,500 words of Christian Domestic Discipline spanking fiction with a freedom/prejudice theme. Contains TRULY FREE, CAPTIVE DREAMS, DREAM IN BLACK AND WHITE, AND EPHRAIM'S WIFE.

Here are a few short snippets:

Tim dropped the hand still grasping the sheet of paper to his side as he walked down the hallway toward James' study. As he passed closer to Callie's perch just beside the stairs, she could see the paper was, in fact, a poster. A split second before he disappeared from her line of vision, she was able to make out:

REWARD
RUNAWAY SLAVE

[...]

James Parker studied the poster in front of him with no small amount of shock. There was no mistaking that the beautiful octaroon shown in the photograph was none other than his own little wife. The flowing dark curls, the soft vulnerability of her eyes, the wide pink mouth he so loved to kiss--it was all the same. His sweet little Callie had deceived him, that much was clear.

He raised tortured eyes to those of his best friend. Tim's face held all the concern he did not voice.

“Don't worry,” James said, “I won't harm her, at least other than her pretty little posterior. That particular part of her anatomy I won't guarantee.”

[...]

He picked up her hairbrush from the dressing table and weighed it thoughtfully. “I think this will do just fine.”

Callie looked at the hairbrush with horrified distaste. It was oval, made of wood, sanded and varnished. At least as wide as his hand, it was heavy enough, she had no doubt, to administer a very painful wallop.

“No!” she cried, attempting to pull out of his grasp. “Please don't do this! Please...I'll never lie to you again, I swear...just...”

“Callie, hush! Now remove your dressing gown and place yourself here across my knee.” When she shook her head, he added, “Don't make this any harder on yourself. I will go easier for you if you cooperate.”

[...]

Ruthlessly, he spanked the sensitive area nearly raw with hard punishing swats until violent sobs shook her body and her bottom writhed unconsciously upon his thigh. By the time he was finished, Callie was too incoherent to plead and too spent to move.

“Shhh. It's over now, Sweetheart. Shhh...”

After several moments of soothing and comforting, he pushed back the hair that was glued to her face by her tears. “Do you feel better now?” he murmured.

“Yessuh,” came the watery reply.

He leaned back to gaze into her face. “Yessuh?” he grinned. “Are you going to call me 'Massa' next?”

She gave him a small grin, albeit very small, and humored him. “Yes, Massa. If you say so, Massa."

From what I understand, this book is a top seller at Teaparty rallies.