St. RiK & Pope Cliff Boost Semenhood

Newt Gingrich--so very yesterday--is about as much a papist as a post- Boleyn Henry VIII. Like Henry, Newt was a serial spouser, but went the opposite conversion direction. Newt became a Catholic for love but shucked  his death-do-us-part vow; Henry became a not-Catholic for love but stuck to his do-us part vow.

If you want a real Catholic for President—and who doesn't-- Newt would be pathetically lame in one of your New Year's mitres.

There are literally dozens who support Planned Personhood, the liberal offshoot of the Catholic Anti-Definition League, but damned few who pledge fealty to Pope Benedict XVI I, who played Aloisius Ratzinger in "Springtime for Young Hitler" and Cliff, the voluble mail and drivel carrier, in “Cheers.”

Damned few even know what “fealty” means, but pledge away they do.

Not, not as in “touchy fealty”.

Pope Cliff controls the second best conservative definition of the beginning of life. The best, of course, was written by Moses when language looked a lot like Wingbats and was etched in stone by lightning.

Which brings us, however elliptically, to St. RiK Santorum, previously known only as Special-K, for the street where he has thrived lately, or The Prince of Northern Virginia, which is where he lived while he was living in Pennsylvania. Being half viable in two places at one time is a sure sign on sainthood, beating the crap out of Schrödinger's cat, which only managed to be alive and dead at the same time, way short of qualifying for beatification.

St. RiK was almost solely responsible for redefining life in 2005 and more recently redefining the life of a presidential campaign as only requiring a tortured smile, a wink and a nod, brain function or Lone Star Governorship optional.

St. RiKy must now be taken as seriously as any hat in the ring containing an Angel's Diary. He is in Iowa. The second best place for him. He has shocked even RuPaul, which it pretty hard this side of eight- inch platforms and glitter for mascara. St. RiKy is going to win the Iowa Crocuses, granting him the more rights to the color purple than Whoopie Goldberg's.

Okay. Who? And how?

The “Who” is not important. He could be anybody who hasn't learned how to smile. The “How”?

Semenhood.

St. RiK has more ideas than the other Rick, Gov. Perry, has oops, and they are better, but the winner is the Papal Decree of Semenhood.

To keep this part short, Semenhood means that no abortions are allowed after the semen comes out of the blender, like a pina colada but not as frozen, yet (more on that below). Semen is derived from the New England term “Seaman”, because the tiny—okay, okay, microscopically really big--semen floaters are crazy swimmers like the guys who were pitched into the ocean by Moby Dick. Only one, of course, ends up with the prized coffin, but that is one very long narrative away from the point, even for this Blog.

Semen is a tad of a misnomer. Semen is really just the way an Intelligent Designer always packages spermapaloza, which is where the soul really begins but sounds too laughable to support even bingo. St. RiK believes Semenhood down to his every bone. To know this Semenhood theory, one need only study the Pope's Cliffmail on Semenhood Sanctity. Papist dogma requires that Semen be treated as containing millions of quantum tithers.

As such Semen is only to be time-regulated to a Katy Perry-beat mp3's; is not allowed to be detained on Saturday nights by terrifying French ticklers (uh... whatever those are); and is neither to be frustrated days before arrival by some forearm implant nor sunk downside-up--if there's got to be a the morning after--by the damned French again.

St. RiK and Pope Cliff's fluidy dream has led them to whip out a master plan--know in the Latin as the Bull Semen--to protect Sememhood and they expect to expose themselves soon, probably in New Hampshire, unless it's not too frakkin' cold: American Males are to be herded together and interned (not the 1998 meaning) in a Vatican Naval base in Greenland until all their little semem-borne quarks can be granted proper legal representation and definitely long, long before the next Megan Fox film.

This Bull will accomplish two things: It will lower Greenland two-tenths of an inch and it will save the Pope the draining expense of busing to the polls a trillion trillion new little voters otherwise simply wagging at movie posters.

Here's to Semenhood! And its patron saint, St. RiK! Off to Greenland!

Shocking! Devil Not Causing Earthquakes

And you have long thought Pat Robertson had proven that Haiti's pact with the Devil back in the 1800's caused their 2010 earthquake. That earthquake caused horrific effects, including a visit by Sean Penn and a photo of George Bush and Bill Clinton together.

Well, forget that.

Unless Satan is a Capitalist (yes, yes, Barak), he did not cause the end-of-times-of-2011 earthquake that seems to have rattled a McDonald's near Youngstown, Ohio.

Hold on. Ohio? 

Ohio votes Republican!

More evidence that the Devil can not be involved.

The earthquake was not all that bad, a 4.0 on a 10.0 scale (unless Barak raises yet another ceiling). It probably didn't knock the tranche'd pickle off of a single Big Mac or jiggle a chocolate shake. People in Youngstown probably thought it more Walmart price rollbacks, you know, when the Zorro'ed price cards fall away from new, lower ones. Or maybe, Newt Gingrich's polls hitting.

Severity, however, is not the point. The point is what or who caused the earthquake.

Brine.

Wait. Don't flee to the nearest Ru Paul Iraq Indirectly Caused 9/11 Website. Real elucidation awaits. Here, not there.

Brine.

The stuff that makes Heinz pickles down I-76 from the quake?

Not really, although you may have just solved the pickle juice recycling crisis.

Brine is used in Fracking, which is the only way to profit from natural gas stored in the rock under Youngstown and other places. Fracking is all the rage, since it will make America the Saudi Arabia of natural gas. This even though nobody really wants to be the Saudi Arabia of anything, unless you think women drivers...

The United States can not long survive without Fracking. America needs to cook with gas. Figuratively and actually, too.

Natural gas burns cleaner than anything this side of, say, the Sun. It is a great way to make electricity and char Rib Eyes to Pittsburgh Rare. Had America used natural gas instead of coal to industrialize, there would be no Global Warming. Or Al Gore movies. Greenland would be 0.8 inch lower in the water, where it was when the Vikings first rammed a Dragon Head into it. Antarctica would cover Terra Del Fuego, which would just be mapped as Northwest Antarctica, Magellan having circumnavigated only the Falklands for all the damned ice.

Fracking is all about Brine and some benign chemical additives and their high-pressure injection into the gas-hording rock. The rock fractures and America gets gas for it pipelines and twelve fuel cells. Of course, to keep the gasless rock from collapsing, Frackers shoot in sand, long known as compatible with brine and little crabs, into the space where your new water heater fuel used to be. You know how well sand supports your sandal much better near that briny water?

That's the theory, anyway.

Some environmentalists, who obviously do not have land in Youngstown to license, decry fracking as certain to give you earthquakes as well the most environmental-friendly fuel this side of, say, the Sun.

Uh.

Turns out that, however dumb they look hum... hugging trees, these guys are right again.

Earthquakes. Not Satan, Pat. Brine.

So, Youngstown! American! Stop with the Pickle Fracking Juice already!

Not to be confused with Battlestar Galactia-speak. Although, thanks to a few little earthquakes, Youngstown, along with the rest of the now-former Saudia Arabia of Gas, are Frakking doomed.

Newt Invents Ottoman For His Feet

Newt Gingrich is a man with two left feet stuck permanently...

[don't go up there!]

Newt Gingrich is an historian. Of all the Republican presidential aspirants in 2011-2040 campaigns, only Newt knows history. All other Republicans except maybe Mitt, know history through the best of all Republican historian known as Moses. Newt, alone, makes up his own.

Lately, Newt has disturbed Proximanians with his scholarly declaration that someone else  made up the Palestinian People (now known as the Proximanian "Laterians"). Now, he is himself disturbed, probably because these Invented People were not a concoction of one of his books, which you can have him sign.  Pretty much anywhere near an early primary.

Still, thanks to Newt, everyone knows that the outmoded term “Palestine” (ingeniously supplanted by the historically better Proximania^tm) never really existed. Palestine was never a state, like, say, Rhode Island, just a part of the Ottoman Empire.

Newt, being an historian, did not bother to define the Ottoman Empire, but it is probably a furniture chain in Georgia accenting the accent pieces that are big footstools. It is hard to establish the origin of the padded footstool, but the chain seems to have started in Eastern Turkey in the 1300's. By 1517, Ottomans were in every master bedroom in Jerusalem and probably the suburbs, like Tel Aviv, and any pubs named Beer-Something-Or-Other.

But it seems Newt dozed off with his feet stuck up on an Ottoman before finishing his Levant 101 syllabus.

Newt makes no reference to what came before the shepherds around the Jordan River began relaxing with their Birkenstock Gizehs up on those cushy stools. Perhaps, Newt believes that the Earth, or at least, the Mideast, was created in 1517, but, as a historian, he knows Irish Archbishop Jimmy Ussher proved that Creation predates Newt's implied date by 5521 years, squarely on a pre-NFL Sunday in October, with that famous bye after the ensuing and busy week.

This kind of confusion can spell doom for any presidential campaign. This is not like guillotining the overcrowded Supreme Court down to eight; or mixing up Iran and Iraq, which will happen in a few years anyway; or abolishing the Department of Oops, which everyone favors no matter what it means.

This is the most fundamental of stuff, especially to Republicans who need to know just how far to turn back the clock.

So, for the next debate, maybe, the Donald can ask Newt to clarify the defining foreign policy issue of the Republican Presidential campaign of December 2011: Did Ottomans, or even feet, exist prior to 1517 AD in Proximania? And who the hell owned them?