AG ain't got nothing on me. She may have left a note for Babsy Bush on an airplane, but Karl Rove lives in my neighborhood and ships stuff down the street from my apartment. If I run into him, he is going to get a cobag sign superglued to his doughy cheeks. This will likely translate to me shouting shit at him and his car as his bodyguards beat the bloody piss out of me. I will have to work very hard to restrain myself.
This could be the end of the Genius. I may end up learning how to decorate a cell in Leavenworth. Maybe I could adapt The Immortal Man in Black's "Folsom Prison" to Leavenworth Blues or something.
I should contact The Cobagitator, maybe we could work out a sign campaign.
I'll post bail.
Dude, I cannot kiss your ass until you actually press flesh with the enemy. AG pressed flesh. You got nothing. Nothing, little man!
P.S. AG saw Sandra Bernhard in NYC over the weekend. You have no idea what AG did ...
I bet you kissed her downstairs.
The cooter taste test?
AG does seem to be hating the men now, so maybe she wanted to know what flavor Sandra is.
I am betting mango melon.
Teh, teh...you behave or you will be lumped with the trash mouth straight boys.
AG doesn't hate men. Just ones who think all women belong to them or should ride the Chuckwagon. Oh yeah, and sexist ones -- subtle or not so subtle, aka, Pinko Punkass, Ph.D.!
Chuckles, be careful, Rove may appreciate your tactics and offer you a job.
If he offers me a job, I will punch him in the face.
This will likely result in me being appointed as the new U.S. Amabssador to the U.N. or Secretary of State. My sole duties in those positions would be to treat everyone like I treat Karl Rove. A punching bag.
You should market that. You know Blue Girl and AG would buy one: a Bozo the clown punching bag, except it's Karl Rove.
Does cobag press make them? I will look into this.
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