DO you like comic books? Brent certainly does. Brent Rinehart that is. Have you met our friend Brent? He only likes beer on tap and dikes, but he’s also the Commissioner of a bright red anal state, Oklahoma. AND is also sort of an comic book wunderkind, or at least he wants to be. This fall he is being charged with assorted felonies and campaign-finance oriented crimes (natch), so one Meth fueled night he decided to lash out at all you anal polygamists who ruined his career and drew up a creative defense, kind of like Maus, but WAY BETTER. SWEET. (the link downloads the comic).

Each week we here at GMSC receive a gazillion pieces of fan mail either lauding our gallant efforts to offer fresh material or more often than not suggesting a post topic. (No, bababooey@lycos.net, I wasn’t at Royal Oak on Saturday wearing cut off jeans and a tank top. God, I hate missed connections.)

One loyal reader in a letter suggested that we take John McCain up on his new Republican challenge: a $300 million government prize to whomever can develop a super battery that far surpasses existing technology thereby saving the planet from greed, filth, and famine. Hooray! I couldn’t help but get choked up with nostalgia, reminiscing about my days in the Boys Scouts when my father and I built a racing car for the pinewood derby. We lost. But the fight goes on!

So I took McBush™ up on his gimmick challenge, only to discover that I had absolutely no idea how to engineer a super battery à la Tony Stark. At first I thought Hillary Clinton could help. She has loads of free time on her hands now that she’s next season’s host of ANTM. She demurred. So I turned to the next best think tank in town: the Sugs, i.e., Sugarland. As noted, The Metropolitan had been closed by the DOH. (tsk, tsk dirty little Fitzy.) At first some participants were hesitant, but once those complimentary shots kicked in, several designs and blueprints came rolling in. You be the judge! Read More!

Last week I cashed in all my Marlboro Camel dollars and scored a trip with reporters aboard Hillary Clinton’s airplane. And I have to say, I may be an Obama supporter but the junior Senator from New York has certainly become more of person whom I can relate to, namely, she marries her DRUNK with the EEMS. That said, what follows is a transcript of of my trip:

Hillary: Weeeeeeeee! *hick* I’m so glad we’re besties. You win. I win. This’s been one, weeeeeee—wait, wheres my cellphone? Wow. It’s been one helluva primary, right, Health Care? Read More!

YEE HAW!! Shit is gettin’ good. The primary season has dragged on FOREVS, longer than a wild booze filled night with Fist Patrick. The Media don’t really need to cover the important stuff anymore like say Iraq, Health-care, Mexicans.

Instead, they’ve begun highlighting important character flaws for each candidate, namely, how Barack Obama’s a fag who likes to bro down with dumb jocks but can never quite relate to them. Mmmm…STEAK-UMMS!

Recently, one of his old boyfriends, John Edwards, joined him in Michigan for a much needed endorsement. Remember him? He campaigned way back in the Stone Age. Edwards simply loves a nice blue-collar boy. And those guys cream for him, too. Moments before their love fest, Barack wanted a fix of some bro and headed to a Chrysler Plant. The fool! WHY OH WHY didn’t he take my advice and avoid any possible stunt to seem manly. Stick with basketball, not silly Urkel glasses and fluorescent green Ipod headphones, Barry. And sweetie, honey, darling, when you prance around an industrial town and refer to a reporter as Sweetie, you seem more Absolutely Fabulous than Absolut Brut. Sassy won’t beat back the Republicans, get a little heated.

Rather then simply ignoring the reporter, he broke down like a sensitive boyfriend and left the ballsy woman a message: Read More!

Have you heard?—No, like, I was watching Lost (SO good last night).

Well, let me bring you pansies up to speed: A local labor leader introducing Hillary this past week said the nation needed a leader “that has testicular fortitude.” WOW. Her street cred in the trannie community just hit a new high. And before that in North Carolina, Gov. Mike Easley (D-lover of ballz) raised some eyebrows when he said Clinton was so determined that she made “Rocky Balboa look like a pansy.” Never mind that comment angered a couple of old fags in Asheville, what got me wonderin’ as a lover of Presidential Election history was which other Presidential hopefuls were total fembots and voted off the island of Presidentia–and yes, you guessed it, more often than not, they were Democrats.

Eugene V. Debs (Socialist-Hello!). What a commie slut! Born of French parents, Debs learned from a wee twink age to appreciate progressive causes. He ran for President five times as a fighter of Labor Unions and often denounced racism throughout his years as a socialist—which in the South meant you were into interracial gay love. Sorry, not gonna happen in this country: go to jail. Read More!

She just won’t go away. GO AWAY! GO Awaaaay! Who? Hill-Rod, as she was affectionately nicknamed this past week when she’d sucked enough lower middle-class white cocks and pandered all over their faces with her love of wrasslin’, KFC, and guns. M’kay? Barry Obama tried his darnedest to relate to them, but he barely made a dent. Not gonna finish the waffle and sausage, Barry? You ain’t gettin their vote. Politics is a game, and Obama bowled too many gutter balls. Fine.

No, what has frustrated me recently, especially as a homo thug (yeah, I’m butch and straight-acting, deal.) is this so-called Diva Theory as a way to explain Hillary’s appeal to the certain portion of the electorate, namely dudwa like Josh and Josh:

There is something weird going here. Hillary is the diva, the fabulous woman who is fabulous just because she says so. She’s the woman who is abused (by her husband), ridiculed (by the press), hated (by Republican mouth-breathers), yet she’s still standing. She’s like from some exploitation film where the heroine is beaten and barely raped before pulling a knife out of her sock and slicing the mean guy’s balls off. Her supporters have stood by her and fought her battles with her - and sometimes for her - since the 1990s. The emotional connection runs too deep. R-e-s-p-e-c-t, she shakes her finger. Find out what it means to me. And the crowd eats it up.

Finished? And here I thought the silly season of the presidential race began when Bill accused Barry of playing the race card on him. It was the gays! Never mind that a diva is typically an entertainer who is charismatic and sassy and has razor sharp wit. No, Hillary is a diva because she suffered; and us gays like a good victim who continues to show a bit of moxie in the face of a mean bully. Not me. Read More!

The Pope-a-Ratzi is in town! Happy Mexicans are coming out of the shadows to see him. But guess who’s not so feliz lately? Why, it’s your favorite Junior Senator from New York and aspiring Editor in Chief of these United States, HRC. Despite winning a majority of the votes from the most important voting bloc in the country, Hillary just can’t seem to woe the superdelegates as much as Barry Obama. ¿Cuál es un superdelegate, mista? Oh silly! They are peeps with large amount$ of street cred in the Democratic party and lately Team Clinton just cannot siphon off their support for him. Poor Shmoops.

So it came as no surprise to me when over an VIP breakfast at Balthazar with the Pope, that he himself would publicly endorse Barack Obama. HOLY MOLY! I nearly spit up my eggs en concotte on his sour cream hazelnut waffles. Is that even possible?

“It shall be done!” he declared.

Word.

It got me thinking, if his holiness could come out for Barry O then who else would be in line to embrace Hope™ and endorse him. Read More!

Welcome Gambypants to the Social Crisis. He’s come here to share his dreams and pundit inspired hallucinations.  In this entry, he has a special date with Dick Cheney…

Last weekend i couldn’t find anyone to go watch meet the press or read the nation with over a Venti americano so i went fly fishing instead with Richard. (or as he’s known to Saudi Arabia and these United States, Vice President Dick Cheney, Esq.) We usually go alone. He needs the quiet time; I need companionship of a strong male. However this time i brought my friend Tammy aka chartreuse and soda. Dick was hesitant at first to have a woman infringe on our man love time, not to mention the media brouhaha over a grown man with a younger woman but I made a deal with him. And so she came.

And boy did she impress him! Not only did she have a grasp of energy policy but her fly fishing bested even Lynn’s long standing record of 23,000 guppies. We ended the day with Colt 45s.