Nancy Pelosi did not put roofies in your drink

March 24, 2010

With the passage of what I would consider tepid health care reform compared to what godless communist Mad Max-dystopian dictator-states like Switzerland and Israel have, the Screaming Head on the Radio has been declaring that America is finished and freedom is dead and the bad armageddon is upon us (not the good one where people get Raptured) and something else about being forcibly orally sodomized that I didn’t quite understand because after a while the Screaming Head stopped using full sentences and went into some apoplectic stream of consciousness fit that was mostly vowels. 

(I think someone got him a Roget’s Thesaurus of Sexual Assault for his birthday because lately everything the Screaming Head doesn’t like gets spoken about like he’s the victim in a really creepy erotica fan fiction episode of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit.)

I looked out my window to find only birds chirping and a squirrel scurrying about.  Hmm… armageddon must be running late.   Or my neighborhood is lower on the list of places where the socialist spider robots (aka the Baracknids) will be unleashed to round up all the white people into the honkey plantations,  where whitey will pick cotton and sing Caucasian spirituals about how we all used to be free back when insurers could rescind your coverage because the handwriting on the claim form for your cancer treatments wasn’t pretty enough.  Or stuff from Gilbert and Sullivan.  Whatever.

I look back out my window again, to see if the robot spiders were trying to sneak by when I wasn’t looking.  All I see is Tina the Lesbian walking down the street, who I know was for health care reform because she told me she was.

“Hey, are you forcing the throbbing communist cock of socialist-fascist tyranny down the underaged throat of liberty like the Screaming Head on the Radio says you are?”  I say to her.

“I’m just going to the park,”  says Tina the Lesbian.  “It’s a sunny day.”

Indeed it is a sunny day, but not for the Screaming Head.  I think he’s broadcasting from deep within his War Room/Doom Bunker/Pants-Shitting Vestibule today.  It’s robot spider-proof.  For now.   




  1. that’s it. you get your own talk show. i need to hear this aloud… preferably read by Morgan Freeman, Samuel L Jackson and that guy on the Allstate commercials.

  2. And while you’re reading it can you be on a horse?

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