 LINDSAY LOHAN & THE PAINFUL POWER OF TRUTH For the longest time President George W. Bush told us that the Iraqi government of Saddam Hussien was in possession of weapons of mass destruction. These weapons, Bush contended, could be passed along to terrorist groups and used against American cities. Of course, no rational person could imagine Saddam doing something so clearly suicidal unless faced with an imminent attack to remove his regime by the United States. For that reason, President Bush insisted on the invasion of Iraq. It has since been revealed that those WMD did not in fact exist. On the other hand, the United States military has a wide variety of weapons that can be used on American cities. I recommend starting with Detroit. There were any number of liberal idiots who were profoundly pissed about the truth of Saddam's weapon. But I was okay with it. Just because WMD was a particularly silly reason to go to war - and likely would have resulted in a chemical attack against New York if it was true - doesn't negate the fact that there were all kinds of other reasons to take Saddam down. For the better part of a year now, we've had Senator Hillary Clinton tell us about her heroic struggles during the battle of Tuzla. Hillary charged that hill and secured that airport, we're told, single-handedly, thus securing a Happy Easter for all of Bosnia's Muslims. When questioned closely, the Clinton campaign assured us all that Chelsea, Sheryl Crow and Sinbad were brought along only as an affirmative action program for useless people. And you know what? I wasn't all that shocked when I learned that someone named Clinton perhaps shouldn't be trusted on their memories of what they have or haven't done. This because I've always thought that Hillary is a cunt. You see, I'm rather fond of the truth, but I'm by no means married to it. Since I assume that everyone is an asshole anyway, having it verified for me isn't a huge priority of mine. That all changed last week when I learned that the truth is the most hurtful fucking thing on the planet and should be immediately outlawed. Most of us don't live the life of New York's new governor, Stevie Wonder David Patterson, who brings us on happy and exciting adventures of truth each and every day. No, the truth is Kyra Phillips and the rest of us are her sister-in-law.  And it couldn't be more appropriate that the truth's latest assault on me involves Lindsay Lohan.
I may not be a big believer in the positive power of truth, but I do believe in fate. And I know beyond any doubt that I will someday be ruined by my penis. I've known this since childhood and I've grown comfortable with it. That Miss Lohan instigates that genital apocalypse is a reasonable causation for my demise than any other. Actually, given her hobbies, it is far more than reasonable.
Unlike everybody's Drunken Stepfather ( link NSFW), I would never refer to any woman as a "vagina lickin' cokehead" as if those were somehow negative qualities. Any discerning gentleman will tell you that those are things that generally improve the modern woman.
Some of you have mocked and belittled my love for La Lohan, but I know that someday statues dedicated to it will be erected in town squares throughout the western world. And when I learned last week that there might in fact be a fucktape starring Lindsay ( also NSFW) out there, I nearly began erecting those statues myself.
If you really want to know why there was so little posting here last week, now you know. Things were so dire that the brilliant and beautiful Joan e-mail to express her concern for my welfare. It was an epic struggle between my mighty prick and right hand, and that my heart could keep up remained an open question. Luckily for all of you, I rest my buttplug and cock ring on top of my defibilator because the use of one almost always necessitates the others.
Sadly, the truth reared its ugly head just long enough to deliver yet another vicious blow to my testicles when it became generally accepted that the video was a fraud. I was despondent. Never before was I so convinced that nothing would ever go my way. I knew at long last that I was forever doomed to a life without hope. The experience was hurtful beyond words and I resolved to never trust the Internet again, allied as it is with both the truth and Al Gore, my two most deadly enemies.
 But even now, in the depths of my darkest hour, there remains hope, if just a glimmer. Although the video has almost conclusively been proven to be fake, my beautiful Lindsay thinks that it might just be real.
There are any number of things that can be said about a big-titted starlet with drug problems and the inability to remember which of her paramours that she recorded herself fellating, but any comprehensive list would start by saying that she should get a medal of some sort. If Congress isn't involved yet, it should be. It's not like it's addressing any other issue of importance.
If nothing else, Lindsay Lohan has managed to accomplish what Jesse Jackson failed to do over and over again. She and her wandering oral cavity have managed to keep hope alive.
And for just once in my life, the truth might actually be on my side.
Easy Listening Recommendation of the Day: She By: Gram Parsons From: GP Labels: Big Ups To Bloggers, Celebrity Skin, Fuck Tapes R Us, Journalists Are Swine
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