The Great American Eclipse of 2017

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Presidential Porno Preferences from Washington to Obama

In a secret, naughty corner of the Library of Congress where the archivists will make out with you if you catch them in a good mood, there is a collection of pornographic material collected from various US presidents after they left office or by their mother when they were outdoors, however briefly.

Remember, these are just the samples that happened to survive and get archived–scholars debate how representative each sample is of the larger corpus of porn that each of these pervy presidents undoubtedly collected and cherished. Scholars agree, however, that most of this stuff is pretty good.

George Washington:  used to read The Song of Solomon from the Bible to get himself in the mood to bang Martha.  His favorite part was Chapter 7, despite all the mixed metaphors:

      “Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins…This thy stature is like to a palm tree, and thy breasts to clusters of grapes.  I said, I will up to the palm tree, I will take hold of the boughs thereof:  now also thy breasts shall be as clusters of the vine…”

Abraham Lincoln:  had an advance copy of Mandingo. A very advanced copy! He wrote it.(Doris Kearns Goodwin proved that ‘Kyle Onstott” was Lincoln’s porno-pen-name.  Doris’ porno pen name is Erica Jong.)

Theodore Roosevelt:  The old Rough Rider just loved the female underwear section of the Sears & Roebuck catalogue. Presidential vignette:

     “Honey, why are these pages stuck together?”

     “Shut up, bitch.”  A lesser man would have crumbled!

Here’s where presidential biographies can be really instructive to future generations of young wives and mothers:  if you find the pages of a magazine stuck together, unless it’s American Girl Doll catalogues or autopsy photos, you’re better off not even mentioning it.

Franklin Delano Roosevelt:  After he died, they found this in his desk:Wheelchair sex positions

(from www.Streetsie.com, which calls itself “The Mad Spaz Club: where all the cool wheelchair people hang out.”) 

Historians are convinced:  had FDR and his wicked-cool bisexual wife lived long enough, they’da been mad spaz for sure. The scratchy 78 rpm phonograph recordings of Franklin and Eleanor really don’t do them justice. “…[static]… You have nothing to fear except too much sex! [record skips] accept too much sex! accept too much sex! [etc.]”

John F. Kennedy:  Secret 16mm films by Zapruder’s shrewder tutor, Judah Hoffengruber, of JFK banging Marilyn, a couple interns, some friends’ wives, some high-class hookers, and a really good-looking gay guy when JFK’s back-pain medicine interacted with “some” alcohol, making the whole episode a “pharmaceutically gay” encounter, and not actual gay sex. Technically… It just looks like gay sex, although, in his defense, JFK did manage to stay on top throughout most of it.

Richard Nixon: had the first ever looped video clip for pornographic or prurient interest: Goldie Hawn in her underwear-outfit-thing from Laugh-In saying “Sock it to me!” over and over, sometimes in slow motion.  Presidential vignette from tape #230,580 of the not-so-secret presidential recordings:

     “Henry, can the people at State superimpose a picture of say, a cucumber, on the part where Goldie says ‘Me!”

     “Vee ahrr vorrrrking on daaat aber es ist nicht–“

    “Henry, could you speak into the microphone of history when you talk?  And could you drop the extra thick German accent you use in your public schtick–is that the word–schtick?”

Jimmy Carter:  Gave an interview to Playboy just so he could have an excuse to have a copy of Playboy laying around the bedroom night table.  Hefner repayed Carter by having an extra fine centerfold model that month.  Presidential vignette:

    Hefner to Carter:   “Lusted in your heart?”  Try lusting in your balls instead–a lot less strings attached.

Bill Clinton:   Life-long subscriber to Butterface Magazine. When feeling extra skanky, he would check out the pages of If It Moves. The poor man–little does he realize that all of his paramours and all of his conquests and all of his cleaning ladies have saved ALL of his semen stains, even the paper towels, and that Julian Assange is teaming up with Linda Tripp to dump all 700,000 of them into the public domain, which is where Bill likes to circulate his stuff anyway. Did I start that sentence with “poor Bill”? As usual, I meant poor Hillary.

George W. Bush (2000-2008):  Had a looped clip of Condoleezza Rice in a TV interview referring to Bush as “my husband.”  Also purchased Khadaffi’s Condy scrap-book on ebay (“Wish I had thought of that.”), but that was in his post-presidency, of course (yesterday).  Bush’s proclivities towards autoerotic asphyxiation using pretzels remains classified information, the disclosure of which is punishible by erotic asphyxiation–well, erotic for the sick sadist goons the Bush family normally hires for such “clean-up jobs.”

George H. W. Bush (1988-1992):  Looped clip of a young Condoleezza Rice accidentally referring to Bush (senior) as her daddy.  Presidential vignette:  “Ohhhhhhhhh, this is not going to be (grunt) PRUDENT!!! …ahh…”

Obama:   Loves Muscular MILF Magazine: Women Who Can Kick Your Skinny Ass!

And of course Mandingo.

(c) 2012, Alan Brech

Bullets of Endearment, Do-Nothing Popes, and how the Beatles Ruined Everything

This just in:  the Gutenberg Revolution is finally OVER! Now we can go back to the Medieval superstitions that made us great.

And speaking of Medieval, it’s official: John Paul I (1978-1978) was a do-nothing Pope. His plaque can be found in the Basement Corridor of Great Do-Nothing leaders along with William Henry Harrison (1841-1841), James Garfield (1881-1881) and that four-year-old Pharoah kid [reference needed].

I liked Gabi Giffords more after she got shot. I liked John Paul II more after he got shot too. I even liked Reagan more when he caught one. We all did.
They missed Ford three times and no one liked him any the more for it.
So it’s obvious that getting shot makes people more likeable. But true love is for the dead, especially for those intolerable fuckers known as artists.
Therefore, I think I could be cured of my misanthropy if everyone just got shot.
And if everyone died, I’d probably miss you bastards (and bitches, can’t be sexist)

Oh, but wait, I didn’t appreciate George Harrison any more after he got stabbed, especially since he yelled out Hare Krishna to repulse the attacker (it had repulsed everyone else).
So unless getting stabbed is less popular than getting shot, that ruins my theory.
The fuckin’ Beatles ruin everything! First they ruin the idyllic 50’s by popularizing the 60’s counter-culture, then they ruin the 60’s by going anti-Revolution in 1968, then they ruin the 70’s by being either so cheesy or so alienated that they were unable to thwart the onset of Disco and Studio Rock.
And I had to grow up under that crap!
Now they ruin my theory…
Of course, I’m still not a fan of Bin Laden even after he got shot and killed in advance of his trial, so maybe my theory sucks ass. Edit delete?
That’s the thing about people–you just can’t generalize about them, generally speaking.
Except those fucking Beatles.

(c) 2012 Alan Brech