Teeth?

As a proud American, I have tried to make this blog family friendly and kind and gentle enough for even children to read before evening prayers. I am Jewish, but I have a Christian sensibility when it comes to our young people...the future of the world.

But today I was listening to Dr. Dean Edell, the radio doctor talking about a lady who has teeth in her vagina! Yeehaw! It's about time! I've had a very modest sex life, and the best I ever had was a woman, who I think had a meatloaf down there.

Dr. Edell also talked today about a new film, called "Teeth", about a lady's set of choppers down below. OK. If you're a woman, or a man who acts like a woman, maybe you should stop reading all about this great new sexy thing. But I warn you...you're gonna miss some kind of ride in in a 1959, tarted up, really punk, pink Cadillac.

Children...please don't read any further, as some of the material is really sexy and even pump oven delight, so maybe watch cartoons until Mom gets home.

A woman with teeth "down there" changes, altogether, the meaning of "pussy eating". Now we must ask the question, what will our young miss with vaginal teeth eat in a normal day. Those of you who immediately thought of weiners are banned from this blog till tomorrow.

But Jesus "Grover Cleveland" Christ! Jiminy Cricket and, well, even Goddamn (excuse me) but a woman who can bite a man more than he's ever been bitten before is the sexy equivilent to Reagan's bright shining light on a hill. It is the apogee of everything!.

Gee wiz, it sounds almost like doggie love. You know how that works. When two dogs are making love in the street, the act is not over until the female dog releases the male dog from her "grip". I wonder if female dogs have special teeth too?

I guess I would be scared of a woman like that. Without being too graphic, I am used to women, now that I think about it, who have fish, and meatloaf, or maybe a steak (with bone in) in that area. But teeth? Could I handle a girl who could never make me want to go back to the old regular vaginas ever again. I would be so spoiled. It would be like a high speed modem. Once you've had that, dial up will never satisfy you.

And once I find a lady with teeth (I already knew about the other lips...but lets keep it clean, kids) and she treats me to a sacred, Godly, thing, I will report back here, on the blog.

That is, if she lets me out.

God. What if she has a tongue too. It would the most beautiful face in the world.

Joe Postove

Here She Comes...

They finally got around to crowning the new Miss America last night, after leaving Sin City, Atlantic City for Sinner City, Las Vegas. The winner was a nice young girl from Muskogee Oklahoma. They don't smoke marijuana in Muskogee; they don't take their trips on LSD. They also don't burn their draft cards down on Main Street. They like livin' right, and bein' free.

So what is the new Miss America gonna get? A one year contract at the Chicken Ranch just outside the city limits, a mink stole, five thousand in chips from Binion's, and all the tips she can make. This was all a mistake. If they wanted to really Americanize the pageant, and make it really wholesome (and not an introduction to prostitution for the winner and her court of runner-ups) then they should have held the thing in Branson. It would have been the most exciting thing there since the rumors that Donnie and Marie were getting married.

To different people! For God's sake, what were you thinking? What a dirty mind. Jiminy Cricket! Now just shut up and read, I'm almost finished. I really felt sorry for the contestants in this years pageant. The talent competition was demonstrating one's ability to deal cards and work the pit. Miss Oklahoma was a wiz with the ball on the roulette wheel. She wore a thong and spit on the ball so that it would hit her number (17) and since she bet a dollar she won $335.00 in addition to all of her other prizes. The girls also had to serve drinks to the players and make change for the slots players, so the contest was a tough one this year. I kind of miss the baton twirlers.

Joe Postove

Get Up! (I Feel Like Being A Democratic Sex Machine!)

It's early yet (yet we all thought by now it would be late) in the primary season with just a handful of political thermometers thrust up the electorate's rectum yet to pop (you turkeys).

But I'm ready to call the Democratic Party's ticket, even before Super Tuesday, even before Ash Wednesday, gosh...even before the Super Bowl. The Democratic Party needs a sexy ticket this year, and that's all, to beat some of the slugs coming down hard and tired out of the GOP.

Oh, they're not all as old as McCain, or as dumpy as Huckaby or as Godly as Mitt (by the way, I found out why his Dad, George, named him Mitt. When he was born he thought young Romney looked like Shirley Booth. And we know she has a face like a mitt. And furthermore, we all know she has a mitt...well shall we say, daintily, like she's taken one too many spit balls) but the Republicans ain't got any sex this year. The only thing interesting amongst them is Ron Paul, our libertarian, anti-war man. But if he starts to break into the double digits, I think some of Guliani's crew might break a few fingers or deliver some horsie heads to Paul's. The New Yorker's do not fuck around.

Which brings us back to the Democracy. A white woman on top, with a new young fresh black man (Joe Biden again, yesterday, said that Obama is clean!) on the bottom could give this whole ride some real bounce as they travel the country, hand in hand, black and white, man and woman, milking the change routine like some old vaudville team.

Mr. Obama already has the sex vote from white women around the country. And Hillary, it is not inconceivable, could pick up some of the MILF vote down south, where that thing is accepted.

Think of the two of them in the White House, Bill away on a trip somewhere where he can get his, and not have to work for it (did he ever?) and Hillary and Obama, never touching, but so close, never too close...but so, so close.

Tell me this ain't got goodtime sex written all over it? And why not? After 7 years of George Bush's flaccid outlook on life, we need a inter-racial executive team to bring change and unity to the country.

Look out world, for the ultimate power couple!

Joe Postove

Nevada Democrats Caucus...Whores And All!

The lady, black man, and pretty boy, along with what other trash might still remain in the Democrat lineup, will be in Nevada today for the caucus there.

Luckily for the whores, cocktail waitress', blackjack dealers and croupiers, they will be able to cast their votes while at work. This may be a little difficult for the prostitutes, since a whore can throw a good fuck, but can she throw a good election while at work? Besides, according to the Las Vegas Star, the ladies of the evening might get "election" mixed up with "erection" and this could throw the vote total off.

Hillary wasn't too keen on campaigning this week in the cathouses, but when she caught Bill trolling outside the Chicken Ranch, outside of Vegas, she went whole hog for the whore vote, even pitching in on the work line.

Unfortunately, no one wanted to fuck a 60 year old ex first lady. And...no one wanted to fuck with Hillary...period!

At the blackjack tables inside the casino, the dealers will deal a hand to each of the contenders. The one closest to 21 without going over, gets that dealers vote.
If any of the candidates bust, however, they have to work the "Wheel Of Fortune". But all will get a coupon for the buffet.

Nevada is a funky state. And lately it has been in a stanky funk. But the democrats expect to do well there, considering the degenerate state of things.

Joe Postove

Dumpy Guy Drops Out

Despite the prospect of all kinds of free food at the upcoming democratic primaries, Governor Bill Richardson of New Mexico is pulling out of the presidential race, after coming in fourth in both the New Hampshire primary and the Iowa caucuses.



Being the plainest and dumpiest figure on the democratic party scene to date, Richardson was limited to pulling in the desparate housewife vote, and Bob's Big Boy patrons.



We shall miss this Pillsbury Dough Boy of politics. Only General Huckaby on the republican side could match him for plain looks and fat face.



Bill, we hardly...blah, blah, blah.



Joe Postove

Voting Today In New Hampshire

I was going to drive up to New Hampshire today and vote for Ron Paul, under the guise of a dead person, who I would check out at the cemetery to make sure he's dead before going to the voting booth. There is nothing in the constitution about dead people not being allowed to vote.

However, I looked on the Internet for conveniences along the way for plop plops and standups. I was OUTRAGED at some of the pay toilet fees up north. Now, I don't think northerners eat anymore than we'un's down here (except for their greasy diners...they have an average of ten heart attacks a day in NJ diners alone!) so I don't know why a schpritz should be 50 cents (fitty cents up there) and average size bowel movements A DOLLAR.

For shits sake, the price for most pay stalls here in Norfolk, Virginia is 10 cents for pee pee, 15 cents for plop plops, and 25 cents if your unsure and might want to think about it.

But that's not why I'm writing. Libertarians (small and large l's) have no better chance than this year, and with this man, Ron Paul, to get the message of our founders out. And to help folks understand that our left over freedoms are so tenuous that we could blink and whoosh, we won't ever get back to Kansas. Sammy, I'd settle for Dixville Notch about now.

Tragically, unless they giddy up really soon, our fat tv, XBox, cell phone up the ass youth and cheap pay toilet generation won't realize it, and won't care.

Ron Paul said on "Meet The Press" a couple of weeks ago that this country is melding into a kind of soft fascism. Not the Mussolini or Hitler Goose-step two step. But rather the kind of fascism where the government very slowly and quietly gathers up all the freedoms that millions of men died for and fling them down one of those homosexual toilets they love so well in Washington D.C. The established dead white men in D.C. are so oily with our money, that they don't care what you or I want.

Could I ask a favor? If you care about your individual liberty and that of others, then try voting libertarian this year. I'll get you a quality orgasm if you do. Guaranteed!

In 1960 millions of women could have had their own Dairy Queen franchise for all the cream they were squeaking out for JFK. Barack Obama, a Black man, and very attractive one too (sadly, I would have to fuck Hillary first, that is if I didn't get lost in her Mitt) is having the same effect on millions of black and white women across America today.

He has the stuff. Black though he is, he has white features and as Joe Biden said a few months ago, is clean. He ain't a greasy Al Sharpton or Jesse Jackson, but rather has all of the physical and political qualities and advantages of the other white guys in the race.

But they ain't getting no cream.

I predict tonight that Ron Paul will get somewhat over 10% and roll on taking aboard college students, people who have the idea somewhere in them they might think the are free and only need what I got in 1979...someone to switch on the light. For me it was Ayn Rand.

I think Ron Paul could be the one to turn the lights of liberty back on in this nation again.

We shall see.

Joe Postove

The Tears Of Hillary

As the candidates ramp up to tomorrow's primary in New Hampshire, the pressure is on all of them to....uh, win, do well, or have a really good excuse for getting beaten by Ron Paul.

Mrs. Clinton went to tears today, as she answered questions from a small group of women gathered to see if she has had any work done. I would cry too, if I was a woman and Bill Clinton was my "husband". She excused the moment of weakness as exhaustion, but I think she knows that if Oprah's boyfriend wins decisively tomorrow, she may have to have an emergency facelift and maybe even blow some state level Democrats. Oh, the irony!

Some may call this a "Muskie" moment when many commentators said that Edmund Muskie, who was running in 1972, started to cry when someone mentioned that his wife was a man or crazy. Or, God, something awful anyway.

If Mrs. Clinton loses tomorrow, I would say stay out of New Hampshire, because then she's going to really start crying. I mean balling. Like Jackie Gleason at a buffet supper without his teeth. If the Mrs. loses to Obama tomorrow, it may be curtains for her and then her future is this: Getting pissed in the Senate on a regular basis because that was just a stepping stone and now it's home; and going home to Bill at night (as if!). She'll be going home to an empty Georgetown apartment with only neck folds and money to keep her warm. The former president will be trolling Malibu for high class whores and making speeches to pay for them.

So what will tomorrow bring? We here at "Libertarianism And Things" hope that Ron Paul makes a nice showing, upends a few Republican applecarts, and continues to help clear the decks for the coming libertarian revolution.

And now, let us pray.

Oh...if Ron Paul gets more than 10% of the vote tomorrow look for his big money liberty juggernaut to make a significant impact in primaries to come. As word gets out that WE CAN take back our sovereign selves, and diminish the federal governmant down to its proper size (small enough to fit inside Madeleine Albright's chins) Ron Paul may just set this country on fire.

And we will scream loudly for our liberty.

Joe Postove

New Shower Curtain Goes Up Today!

Let's face it. I don't have a lot going in my life, so later today when I install my new shower curtain, I will live on that accomplishment for a week. Some people are multi-taskers. They can juggle a bunch of stuff into a day's life and still get the kids home from soccer practice, fry up a decent dinner for the husband, and then sexulate him once the kids are asleep (I hope to God. Please...Let's keep America beautiful).

If I can plan to do one thing, I consider that a successful day. When I do the laundry, for example, I consider that the equivalent of writing a book. Other than going to work this morning to deliver my paper route (I deliver them to hotels, one at a time to the doors of the guests...No naked ladies trying to get ice under cover of ice bucket yet, but I will keep you updated) I cleared the decks today to make time to put up the shower curtain. Not that the decks were super full, but I did want to check the mail and watch tv, and I'll probably find the time to do them, but as God is my witness, I'll never go hungry again. And I'll put that thing up today.

My old shower curtain has one good ring left to it, and thus when I shower there is a tendency to get some water on the floor. It is not my fault, and my white landlord can claim otherwise, but I stand on my rights that as long as the shower curtain is tethered in some way to the pole that it resides on, I'm in the clear.

But I wanted a new shower curtain anyhow, so I went to the dollar store, which has so many fine goods for just a dollar. I buy all of my pastes, creams, pufferies, male solutions and other items there that I felt certain that they would have some kind of shower curtain, even if it was made in Iraq. As is the norm when I go to the dollar store to buy a thing, I end up with several necessities to go along with my original purchase. So on this trip I went wild (I had a ten dollar bill!) and bought some shaving cream, ice cream sandwich (deluxe!) a finger nail clipper, a bag of Cheetos, an Ozzie And Harriet DVD, and a nice sized tube of tooth paste. I admit, I went wild! But how often does one have ten dollars, right there in the dollar store? I could have bought TEN things!

Then I remembered why I was there. I asked one of the pathos who work there (nice ones, but I'd say recently released or on work release) about my shower curtain. She said that the truck from Formosa was late that month and they were out of stock. Now I know you cannot drive here from Formosa, so I looked aside, and in soto voce I called her a liar. My lips were on the side at this time, so she did not see my utter contempt for her. I left there with all my other good stuff very upset that I may have to pay full price for a shower curtain. I went to another store nearby that doesn't care what they charge for their goods, and saw a nice one with dolphins on it, for ten dollars. That was much more than I intended to pay, but if I didn't make a decision then and there, I would miss "Leave It To Beaver". And this I never do.

I cursed the checkout girl in a similar fashion to the dollar store cursing earlier, and took my shower curtain home. I also bought a new bath mat, and some towels. I think I should have done that in the dollar store. I have my curtain. Updates as they happen (after I put it up, I will test it to make sure it holds the water in).

Joe Postove

Columnist Job

There was an opening for a guest columist job here in Norfolk to replace Dave Addis for the local paper. So I sent in my prayers:

Dear Ms. Whosits,
I realize that Dave Addis’ body probably isn’t even cold yet, but I would respectively like to apply for the columnist’ job that his passing leaves open. I realize that Dave isn’t really dead, but give us readers out here a while and we will forget all about him. And that’s a fate worse than death.

Sure, Dave provided us with mounds of hilarious and thought provoking copy during his tenure with the newspaper, but now that he’s dead…damn, sorry about that. Every time I think of him now it’s with a memorial wreath strung around his neck. Now that he is retiring (to watch more television, eat, I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?) there is room for fresh blood, or better yet, fresh milk, which I would be more than happy to bring a pail of with me every day to work at the paper (with straws for everyone!!) if it would help me get the job.

I have extensive credentials as a writer, but due to the war, I am not allowed to reveal them. Let’s just say that I could write a whole book, if you gave me enough paper, and the thick ends to keep it all together. I would also bring a fresh outlook and perspective to column writing.

When I was only 12 years old, I kept a diary of all the food I ate for a whole year. This book was lost in a fire and flood, so you can’t see it. But if you could, I know you would be impressed at my attention for detail and insights of a 12 year old fat boy who loved TV and food and racy books. I was really a marvelous child, running hither and yon, throughout the house on a Saturday, with no one home and no one to stop me from eating, watching TV, and sleeping. This alone, I believe, should put me in contention for your grand prize. And if not that, I would still be willing to take the columnist’ job.

I was holding back on the most important and main reason I should be considered for the new opening. I already work at the paper! I have a nice paper route that allows me to deliver the Pilot to hotels around Norfolk. I get a dime a piece, of which I would not be averse to applying some of that pay to the column money. I get 10 cents per paper for my hotel route. If you were to add, perhaps, a penny to each paper that my new column appears in, for a total of eleven cents, I would be quite happy with that. I would thank you with a nice handshake, as I don’t believe we know each other well enough to kiss. We could dance a little, but I’m not really very good, so I’ll sit this one out. Maybe at one of the paper’s parties I could get you something from the buffet table.

I’ll bet it’s just loaded with goodies of all kinds, tables upon tables groaning with Terrapin Breast of Spring Chicken, Cold meats, salad, fish, pate de fois gras, ice cream molds, bonbons, and fruits. That’s what they served at Grover X Cleveland’s White House wedding, and should be good enough for us. However, whatever you decide to serve, perhaps as a coming aboard party for me, I would most humbly share with you and the other ladies.

Thank you for your consideration. Please send money.

Sincerely,

Joey Postove