Oooooh, my Rovey came home in *such* a snit tonight! I got the feeling he was going to when he IM-ed me (He's KudLPantz53 if you wanna add him to your buddy list!) saying that he wasn't going to be home in time to watch El Gordo y la Flaca with me and would I please TiVo it for him, and that there would be a federal agent pulling up into the carport in 25 minutes, and would I please hand him the Crisis Satchel with his emergency six-pack of Hanes and calming beef-a-roni aromatherapy candle? So far as I could remember, the last time he asked me to do that was when his boss got cranky and asked Helen Thomas if she wanted settle it once and for all by stepping outside to go mano-a-mano on the South Portico in front of the rest of the press corps. I'll tell you, it was a good thing the soldiers saved that pretty Jessica Lynch that day or else the story would have been all over the papers. And it would have been especially bad for Rovey's boss 'cause just seconds before news of the daring rescue broke, Mrs. Thomas had the waistband of his Presidential BVDs all the way up to his shoulderblades, and he was about to have to tell the press corps who, in fact, "Da Man" was. Not fair, though - Rovey says she's totally a hair-puller. Below the waist, even!
Aaaaaanyhow, I flipped on the Philco, and figured out pretty quickly what all the flapdoodle was concerning. So silly! All the newsies were a-twitter saying that Rovey's boss's new re-election ads were tasteless and exploitative and fear-mongering, and to that I say PHOOEY! My Blubblenumpkins and his pals would never ever dream of asking the American public to slip on their scaredypants unless they were 100% super sure that we'd definitely maybe someday have to think about worrying about something bad happening, and it's their sacred, holy, Jesus-given job to keep us prepared. I mean, do you think that Rovey actually *enjoys* jumping out of the Wheatena pantry in a Lou Dobbs mask and pink vinyl diaper and scaring the pudding out of me?!? Sweet sticky heck no! Rovey would never do something like that unless he thought that I might someday be faced with the real possibility of Lou Dobbs jumping out of the Wheatena pantry at me. I have a speaking suspicion that my Tummyplorpkins may have taken a few liberties with the outfit, though. Everyone knows Mr. Dobbs is an autumn, and would look just SO sallow in pink!
(Pssst! Don't forget to come and see me live tonight at 8 at the M. Shanghai Den in Williamsburg Brooklyn. It's part of the Minister Tony Blair Presents series, and if you come up and say hi, I will probably give you pudding!)