29 | May | 2013 | Existential Ennui

Tags

Humor, Michele Bachmann, tea party, teabaggers

Oh my goodness, my goodness, as Shirley Temple often said. Or perhaps a band of munchkins is more to your liking, “ding, dong, the wicked witch is dead.” Figuratively of course. Whatever you flavor of bygonedom, an era of crazy as in bat shit crazy is about to end. You won’t have Michele to kick around any more as Tricky Dick was wont to glower.

I could go on, but you no doubt know I have more pithy comments left to make. Soooo, I was grumbling, sitting on the side of the bed, dangling a pair of panties and searching valiantly for my toe to hook ’em, when the Contrarian rushed in, “let me be the first to tell ya sweetie. Michele Bachmann isn’t going to run for re-election.”

Well, that almost made my day, although a 2 1/2 mile walk and a trip to the pool followed by three shopping stops still loomed large in my rear view mind. All sorts of stuff started racing through my head as I tried to figure out how a Bachmann-free world would look, feel, nay even smell like.

I scoured the Internet and managed to find all this information for your perusal.

Since she started out by assuring us that it had nothing to do with her Democratic opponent, you can assume it had EVERYTHING to do with her Democratic opponent. I mean she had already started running ads. The fact that that pesky investigation about how she ~~mis~~managed her campaign finances wouldn’t go away probably had something to do with it too.

I am told that Louis Gohmert and Steve King were heartbroken. No more weird teapotter sex in the cloak room with the ever vivacious and eye-spinning girl wonder for them. You do NOT want to know what teapotter sex consists of, trust me. People who have snuck in between the coats to spy on the threesome (de rigueur in teapotter circles), have been known to lose their eyesight. Nobody thought you could put THAT, THERE and live I tell ya.

Anyway, insiders suggest that there were some private reasons why Ms. Bachmann decided to hang up her Congressional spurs at this time.

She was heartbroken when Speaker Boehner told her that she had not won a seat on the Intelligence Committee because of her, you know, intelligence. Actually it all started as a joke and well, it got out of hand.
Various members of the Armed Services called to testify at hearings, threatened to commit hara kiri if she asked them one more stupid question.
Marcus’ reparative therapy had been going really well until marriage equality passed in Minnesota. Thereafter he could be heard roaming their Minnesota home intoning, “free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, I’m free at last.”
Michele was told that the campaign finance money she spent on her “wandering eye” surgery was not deductible as an “expense”.
Her most lucrative engagement–speaking at Tea Party events was about to dry up as the last Teapotters get ready to close up shop. Sarah advised her to get in on the speaking tours while the getting was good. Grifters do as much for other grifters it seems.
It was explained to her that Obamacare was still the law of the land and no amount of clicking her heels together would change that.
A little-known House rule requires a Congressperson to step down after eight years of introducing absolutely no bills that weren’t laughed at by the House cleaning staff.
It was about to get out that she had copies of Chippendales on Display” in her desk drawer–AND the pages were very very worn.
She’s joining a new group headed up by Christine “I’m not a witch” O’Donnell, Sarah “I’m still relevant” Palin, and other failed TeaWomen, to offer their services as Public Relations experts.
She always wanted to be a end-times preacher in her heart of hearts.
Let’s face it, Phyllis Schlafley is getting really really old and somebody has to travel around the country, get paid tens of thousands all the while spreading the message that God wants women to stay home and support their flaccid husbands. After all, they didn’t get flaccid all by themselves, it takes a ball-buster of a woman to do that, except of course unless he’s a closeted gay.

Meanwhile, the Contrarian has wired the entire house so that every television and Tivo box is tied together. I don’t understand the science behind all this, but I’m assured that I can turn on any TV just by pushing “puree” on my blender and I can change channels by pressing “steam” on my iron. No amount of glazed-over eyes prevents him from explaining the math of all this to me over and over again. I prefer to simply say. . . .”the Internet is like a series of tubes through which little busses carrying electrical bundles careening through intersections dump their loads at rail crossings, and yelling ‘bingo’ at regular intervals, all resulting in my getting the channel I want when I want it.”

Signing off from this tube relay platform until later.