the otherwhirled

where nothing is real, and nothing else is sacred.

An Evening With Condoleezza

© The Onion We join the lovely Condoleezza as she relaxes in her bath in preparation for an evening tryst with the next politician or journalist who shows signs of needing to be absorbed into the collective. Her skin glows with anticipation, softened by scented oils specifically designed to intoxicate the malleable minds of moderate conservatives so that they may be brought completely under the ebon wing of the Dark Side. She takes her time, basking in the warm, scented waters, dreaming of past conquests and future victories. She must be careful tonight. The mission to resurrect the Cold War must be handled with a most delicate and sensitive iron fist.

(AP Photo/Arnulfo Franco) Freshened and garbed in her no-nonsense pinstripes, the glorious Condoleezza strikes out towards downtown, where the lights beckon and the music entices…to the back-alley places where deals are made and souls are lost…the places where the masterful Condoleezza’s artistry is second to none. She’s ready for another night of soul-gathering, and only the Dark Lord knows whom her next victim will be. Who is it that stands between herself and the resurrection of the Cold War? What moderate conservative’s pronunciations threaten this new-old world order?

unattributed En route, the orders come in from the Dark Lord. Ah…it is the alluring and mysterious Lincoln Chaffee, whose occasional sneer of derision is directed at the White House in a manner deemed unbecoming of good Republican automatons, and whose considerations of leaving the Republican Party threaten every principle held dear by Lord Cheney and his minions. Should he gain re-election into the Senate as a non-Republican, all of their carefully-devised plans may be ruined! He must be brought back to the Dark Side! He must! Ah, but whatever can she do to win the heart and soul of this elusive fence-straddler?

(REUTERS/Jason Reed) Quickly, alone in the back of the limousine, beneath the rhythmic progress of the streetlights, she changes into her red dress: the one that is guaranteed to illicit the amoral thoughts of every conservative-leaning man in the entire world. She arrives at the dinner with another man on her arm—one who means nothing to her. But then, very few men ever have, ever do, or ever will, despite her deepest, unfulfilled desires. All the good men are taken, or else married to the Dark Side in such a way that they have no time for her. So, she saves the glories of erotic revelry for bathtime with her GW Bush-headed dildo engraved with the Preamble of the US Constitution. “…in order to form a more perfect union…” Oh, indeed!

unattributedBut with a shake of her pseudo-bouffant, our brave Condoleezza brings herself back from such maundering to the matter at hand. Her token bumpkin on her arm, she scans the crowd for her latest victim, hoping to catch him alone. But alas! Her chosen one is indeed not alone! He has come to the party with another woman—a buxom blonde with a liberal glint in her eye. And there’s something about her that tells our prudent Condoleezza that this battle may well have already been lost. How can she compete with a woman who moves herself so coyly, who wears her diamonds and gems with such grace and daring, whose glistening lips promise paradise?

(AFP/File/Karen Bleier) Vexed, our frustrated Condoleezza rushes for the bathroom, enflamed by a sudden, unstoppable desire for this woman—this blonde harlot whose enticements she knows will never be for her. It has long been a secret shame, this desire for other women, since fulfillment is limited only to the secret administration orgies in Crawford that simply don’t come often enough, and all the more so because Laura is such a docile participant, especially after Lord Cheney has claimed his due. Dammit! How can she fulfill her mission amidst this constant onslaught of unrequited emotions? How can she resurrect the Cold War, when the true cold war rages between her own heart and loins? I just isn’t fair! The Dark Lord asks too much!

unattributedSlowly, our loveless Condoleezza regains control of her furiously-beating heart. After fixing her makeup and retouching her perfume, she resolves to rejoin the party and set aside this momentary diversion. After several deep breaths, she quietly exits the bathroom, setting her personal struggles behind her, and nearly runs directly into Fred and Jeri. Her eyes grow wide with appreciation and astonishment. Her mouth waters. Her hands shake. She mutters an apology and rushes for the exit, only looking over her shoulder once. Longingly, desperately, once. Exiting the building, waving frantically to her driver, she catches a gleam in the corner of her eye. And there, in the shadows between the streetlights, are Lincoln and his date, strolling away arm in arm, their heads together conspiratorially. As she watches them go, the blonde kisses Lincoln on the cheek and gives his butt a playful squeeze. And as her limo approaches, all our sadly neglected Condoleezza can do is watch.

(AFP/Khaled Desouki)Oh, do not cry, fair Condoleezza. Love will be yours, someday. And surely you have time before your tenure at the White House is over to resurrect that Cold War. Your constancy will no doubt win in the end! But in the meantime, there is always bathtime, and your Rod of Power with GW Bush’s head, and the “blessings of liberty” are yours to be had whenever you please. So, do not fret, dear Condoleezza. Nothing but impeachment could ever take away the enjoyment of your secret passions, and the Dark Lord says that day will never come. And he’s always been right so far, hasn’t he?

Photo Credits (in order): © The Onion, via; AP Photo/Arnulfo Franco; unattributed, found at; REUTERS/Jason Reed; unattributed, found at; AFP/File/Karen Bleier; unattributed, referenced at; AFP/Khaled Desouki

2007.06.05 - Posted by | humor, politics, public figures, rice bowling, snark



    I surrender to your snarkitude!


    Comment by Tengrain | 2007.06.05 | Reply

  2. Commander Other, I bow in your general direction!

    Comment by Morse | 2007.06.05 | Reply

  3. thanks, dad!

    signed, your illegitimate love-child (apparently).

    Comment by commander other | 2007.06.05 | Reply

  4. I still can’t remember who your mother is.

    Comment by Morse | 2007.06.05 | Reply

  5. that’s okay. she can’t either. and what’s really weird is i’m in my 40’s.

    Comment by commander other | 2007.06.05 | Reply

  6. I know it wasn’t Karen Huge, because there was no shed hair in the back seat.

    Comment by Morse | 2007.06.05 | Reply

  7. You know, there are rumors that Condi is good friends with Gwen Ifill. Just had to type that.

    Comment by PissedinNYC | 2007.06.05 | Reply

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