Rubb, Tugg, and Pull…little future Romneys?

My Fellow Inebriates,

Craziness has a talent for self-replication, which is why we (even Canadians) should keep an eye on Mitt Romney. Fundamentalists have a penchant for spreading their seed, and with wingnut Republicans such as Richard Mourdock sanctifying all progeny, borne of consenting relations or not, as gifts from God, we’ll need good names for the raft of new Republican infants who’ll one day cast their vote for some curiously inbred-looking Romney descendant chowing down on a corndog.

Mitt’s abstinence means we have to watch him stuffing his piehole with fast food and corndogs.
AP photo, Saul Loeb, AFP/Getty Images

Yesterday’s inanely metronomic pumpkin poem got my brain into a relentless rhythm that no amount of alcohol could derail. I spent this morning trying to channel that compulsion into another rhythmic project—thinking of awesome Romney baby names.

TOSS

FATT

NIBB

RATT

PUSS

RUBB/TUGG/PULL (triplets)

FIBB

PAPP

GITT

FIZZ

DUMM

GYPP

PISS

HELL (why not?)

BUMM

NIPP

SOGG

TITT

CUMM

SOTT

GAFF

SODD

BUTT

HEFF

RIFF/RAFF (twins)

WUSS

BODD

WIZZ

NUTT

BOGG

CUPP

DIZZ

MUFF

WOPP

FUZZ

GASS

KEGG

There must be plenty more, my fellow inebriates. The new generation needs these names. What’s missing?

Artist Dan Lacey’s response to President Obama’s recent comment in Rolling Stone magazine referring to Mitt Romney as a “bullshitter.” Click to see the whole gallery.

It’s not Christmas without unicorns

My Fellow Inebriates,

I am giddy with excitement right now because—for perhaps the first time ever—I desperately want something that has nothing to do with alcohol.

It’s true!

I know it seems implausible. The quest for liquor completely dominates this bear for the most part, but every once in a while something cuts through the alcoholic miasma—something so sublimely beautiful that it gives me back my perspective.

Let me back up. I haven’t been feeling very festive. We put up the Christmas tree yesterday (three parts, stackable, lights included, plug-in-and-presto, instant Xmas), and—sigh—the middle part didn’t light up. The lights are in series, so when one goes kaput, the rest fail to light up, and no one felt like going through them all one by one to find the culprit.

My Christmas spirit was in the toilet.

So I started thinking about ways to cheer up. My alcohol inventory was just about exhausted (Santa??), and with the Backyardigans blaring all over the house, holiday music would have been a cacophonous choice. I decided to look for a nice Christmas picture, something serene and lovely.

As I surfed the web, I was thinking about red wine. Whenever I think about Christian holidays I think about wine, because Jesus made wine and also drank it. But I was thinking especially about malbec and ruminating that Jesus had missed out on malbec because I don’t think that varietal was available in his ‘hood. I don’t know if he knew about Argentina. I mean, he knew everything, so I guess he must have known about Argentina, but maybe he never really thought about it—who knows?

And then I saw a painting! A beautiful painting.

I’d never noticed art before. But this—this was transcendent. This awakened my emotions and enlivened my alcohol-deadened senses. I felt, truly, that by gazing on this beautiful painting, perhaps I could find proper happiness—the kind of joy you get from contemplating beautiful things, and not the temporary anaesthetic of a gin bottle.

And then it struck me: the painting was for sale on ebay.

I told my mum I had found something beautiful. She gave me this weird look 😐

I told her it was a painting and asked if we could bid on it. She said 😯 She said we needed to save money for the holidays so the kids can have gifts and we can have a turkey and maybe some wine, and was that last thing not one of our shared priorities?

I said yes, yes, but look. My mum was busy doing something, so she didn’t look at the painting.

I said, When have I ever asked you for anything???

She said ARE YOU F#CKING KIDDING ME? 🙄

I was bereft. She kept on sorting laundry.

And I started to cry. 😥

And then she must have caught a wisp of holiday spirit, because she put down the skid-marked Disney Princess underwear she was holding and went to look at the painting.

A new Barack Obama & Penelope the Unicorn painting, celebrating this most special season. This unique piece of art also features Baby Jesus in a manger, who is visibly overwhelmed by the unexpected display of reverence. This original painting is certain to become a family heirloom for the lucky bidder; unpacked with reverence each holiday season and displayed in a position of honor. - Artist Dan Lacey

And she agreed with me. We must have it.

I almost hesitate to tell you guys about it because we did it—we got ourselves an ebay account (it was easy!) and now we’re in a bidding war. And I’m so scared that somebody with more money might wrest it away from us. I hope that doesn’t happen, but I’d understand, because I can’t imagine anyone not coveting the painting.

The bidding war is on, people. Fa la la la la la la la la!