I have an opinion on all three: WHY? Also, these were the top three topics on Google, and I figure other people have opinions, too.
Why is Casey Anthony still wasting tax payer’s money? Why would you let your child go missing a month before you got out the tattoo chair and off the pole at the club and decided to search for her? Because you killed your baby, that’s why. If I don’t hear my kids for five minutes, I know something is wrong. If there is silence in the Ekhoff house, I know somebody is getting into something- or somebody is bad sick. No mama worth even a half-bucket of a damn is going to let her baby go missing that long, unless said mama did something wrong. Sure, we all have that point in Wal-Mart when we want a tractor beam to swoop down and suck our precious, screaming sweethearts up to the planet “Will You Shut the Hell Up So Mommy Can Shop in Peace.” Alas, the tractor beam doesn’t come and long-suffering Mamas in Wal-Marts all over the world have to live through shopping trips of doom, and they don’t go looking in the sporting goods section for some fresh chloroform. This heifer doesn’t need to be thrown in jail; she needs to be covered in Alaga syrup, and placed ever-so-gently in the biggest red-ant bed in Alabama. I’m guessing the best ant beds are somewhere between Clio and Smut Eye. If I were George Foreman of that jury, it would have taken us about an hour- wouldn’t want people to think we were biased- to end this trial.
I know you’re thinking, “Tang, clearly, you know nothing of politics or money, why do you feel the need to speak out on the debt ceiling?” My answer to this one is simple, because I can. We’ve raised the debt ceiling before. This ain’t America’s first time at the debtor’s rodeo. Do it or don’t do it, but for the love of Oprah, stop talking about it. It’s been raised over 100 times since 1917, it ain’t like The President and Mrs. Obama just invented it for funzies while lighting sparklers with the girls last night. Hell, it’s been done ten times in the last decade. I hate to be the one to remind you, but old W. was President when we raised it without stuttering eight years in a row. Can’t we just get back to picking on Mrs. Obama for trying to get future rap star, ‘Lil Fat Ass to step away from the fried Kool-Aid?
Michele Bachman, I hate to be the one to break this down like a simple fraction for you, but your husband may be a little gay. Where I come from, people who like to de-program gay people are usually gay. See, straight people don’t get all up in gay people’s business like that. Usually, it’s sexually frustrated uber-christians who want to pray the gay away. I’m gonna let you in on a little secret Michele, most husbands, the straight ones, are too busy working their asses off to take care of their families to be concerned with how to make gay go away. Most American husbands don’t give a damn what two grown people do with their own bodies in their own homes.
I did a quick survey at my house.
Me: Honey, how do you feel about gays?
Him: Why is the thermostat set at 72 in here? We aren’t trying to hang meat in here. Do you know how much the power bill is?
Me: No, because I was watching Ru Paul’s Drag Race, and….
Him: You had the TV on today? I told you that TV uses too much electricity. Do I hear water dripping in the bathroom? Are you using the oven???
Notice a trend here, Michele, my hot-blooded, American husband cares about one thing: paying the bills, bills, bills.
The only people who seem to make a living at professional gay-hunting are just looking for an excuse to take advantage of young, confused people, and all the while they use religion as the rack to hang their Bob Mackie ball gowns on. Michele, when your husband calls gay men barbarians, what he means is, “ I wish that Native would get restless all up in this…” Girlfriend, you better get your wife in check, before you decide to run for President, because Ru Paul is in hair and make-up just itching to call Mr. Bachman out.
Before you go hurling the Liberal word at me, I’m ok with my gay-loving, idiot-loathing, bad-ass self. I believe God, and Oprah, loves us all. I believe Jesus died for me. Thank the Lord for that, because I'd be bustin hell wide open for my past sins, and my current state of "fry baby-killing Casey Anthony." Now, let’s raise that debt ceiling, buy some tacky crap from Oriental Trading Company, and throw a Casey Anthony Burn in Hell Party! I bet we all know who’ll be the first one on the Karaoke stage when “It’s Raining Men” starts to play. God Bless the USA!