Thinka Topinka Tinkle

(The Illinois Shadow originally posted this in May 2005--but it is worth reading again, nothing has changed)

Judy, Judy, Judy. Well done on that Edgar strip tease. As usual, your tracks were well covered. No one ever realized that your minions started the rumor that Uncle Edgar—although still hobbled with a slight case of MSI--might dance again.

And then offering him campaign money that you knew you would never have to pay…boy you have a pair bigger than Frank Watson’s head.

I don’t think anyone can stop you. Unless they work at 219 South Dearborn Street, where questions do linger. But bless your shoeless feet, the “lost boys” are a million miles from Dixon.

Herr Oberweis is stuck in the Milk Dud field begging Hispanics to convice Pro-Lifers to tell the Lactose Intolerant crowd that the Taliban were simply misunderstood;
Gidwitz is baffled that his products fail to help him;
Steve Rauschenburger. Who? Rauschenberger. Who? Never mind.
Joe Birkett. Chicago Tribune. Enough said.
Bless my lucky charms Pat O’Malley believes he created the Universe;
And Count Chocula or Lahood; Count Chocula or Lahood; I know, its confusing;

So while the white, conservative men predictably argue, tickle each other’s milk chocolates and steal votes from each other, you can simply whip out your weapon of choice—that ultra hip, three reed, thirty-four key, Accordiola.

Play away my pro-abort, Czech stove stoker, and get ready for your ninth life.

Madame, the nomination is yours.