“It is useless to attempt to reason a man out of a thing he was never reasoned into”

Jonathan Swift
"The Democrats have moved to the right, and the right has moved into a mental hospital." - Bill Maher
"The city is crowded my friends are away and I'm on my own
It's too hot to handle so I gotta get up and go

It's a cruel ... cruel summer"

Monday, September 10, 2007

Saving Our Ass

It might be just another Friday afternoon in the fair Yellow City,

but a dark shadow sweeps ominously over the unsuspecting citizens residents below.

Yes, it is Virgil Van Camp, aeronaut extraordinaire! He has survived the thermonuculear enema. (We were told he was thick-skinned but talk about a hardass!) But who is his companion? Ah, it is none other than the cranky crone of Canyon, Mary Chumbley herself. Broom a bit slow these days?

With a flight plan that says they’re out for a “joy ride” we’d better watch out, looks like we’re in for a bit of ethnic and
political cleansing!

Oh no! Their target is Howard: political icon; beloved patron saint of liberal imbibers; objet d’ art and occasional sex toy. As Howard waits patiently on Polk Street Camp readies to unload his regular 1,000 pound colonic bomb. For Virgil, once Howard is blown to a gazillion ceramic bits, the leaderless legion squadron of mocking photoshop reprobates will be scattered to the bovine flatulent fragrant winds.

But wait, Pantex Plutonium Pussy appears from out of nowhere to save Howard! All cheer Pantex Plutonium Pussy! Van Camp is unable to achieve his climactic release to shoot his vile eruptions upon our public streets.

His attack interrupted, he yanks upon his joystick and swoops back up into the sky. He knows what felonies this monster feline has committed. He has waited for this moment. Enraged, he turns back for the kill.

“I’m finally going to get me some pussy!” Camp bellows. Behind him Mary Chumbley tingles with excited anticipation and clutches at his bald head. Camp prematurely ejects a rocket.

Regaining his composure Camp locks on target and unleashes a barrage of air-to-kitty missiles. Pantex Plutonium Pussy stands her ground and shields Howard from the savage onslaught.

Pantex Plutonium Pussy disappears amidst the tremendous explosions. Flame and smoke fill the street and roil the sky.

Their adversary vanquished, Chumbley grabs Camp’s neck, giving him a fat, parched, hickey. Feeling her sharp dentures wobbling against his leathery flesh, Camp forgets he is not flying his slow single-engine prop plane.

Suddenly one of his few remaining synapses fires and Camp realizes he is in a high-powered jet screaming straight towards the ground. At the last moment he pulls out of the dive, banks and roars into the clear blue sky of Plaza II.

Strangely, or not strangely in the small, interconnected world of the Yellow City, Van Camp and Chumbley plow straight into the offices of Kingdom Keys Radio Network, rudely intruding upon Ricky Pfeil, president, manager, duster and degenerate noticer. Has another
"pervert" laden column been cut short? Luckily it was only his sweaty-palmed perusal of a well-worn edition of Boys’ Life. Not to worry, he will be rescued from the stall as well as the two Republican congressional aides adjacent.

Pantex Plutonium Pussy has survived, unscathed and unscratched! Howard is safe! He can continue to be the centerpiece of Drinking Liberally, an emblem of Amarillo progressivism, and occasional accessory to leather goods, spiked heels and – but now it’s nappy time.

All (quietly – it is nappy time) cheer Pantex Plutonium Pussy.

[This episode has been brought to you by Dav* H*nry and Anti-Kosher Second-Hand Wieners: “If you don’t know what’s in ‘em, how can you possibly get cancer?”]