We told you not to screw with the Pink Mafia, but you wouldn’t listen. Now We’ve got to start taking over the internets one site at a time.

All because you penis wielding womb butchers* wouldn’t understand the strife I’ve gone through, the torment I’ve suffered, all to get where I is today, without having to touch a penis on my way to the top.

All this persecution and hate is being aimed at me as an attack on a great man who is obviously on his way to the White House.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a look of misery and dejection on the face of my bra-burning man hating life partner as I just did a moment ago. She just couldn’t understand why the President would be sending more troops to Iraq when so many poor dear Duke lacrosse players are being persecuted for not sexually assaulting a strippers in this country. “Doesn’t Mr. Bush care about us anymore?” she asked pitifully.

I sat down with her on the sofa and (as calmly as she could) tried to explain to her why the President seems to be abandoning the lying whores his country. “Honey, I think his boss, Mr. Rove, sent Mr. Bush out of the country in order to keep his own stories of not sexually assaulting strippers out of thew newspapers. You see, Mr. Rove wasn’t sure if he was going to be meeting with Codi today, and so he planned Mr. Bush’s trip a couple of meetings for an alibi, just in case…”

I tried to keep my voice steady, but it became increasingly difficult - my feelings of rage and feelings of helplessness were just too much. I thought my bra-burning man hating life partner could tell something was wrong. I found myself at such a loss for words - nothing made any sense; nothing makes sense anymore. I finally had to admit, “Honey, I just don’t know - I don’t know what’s going on in this country anymore…”

When I finished telling her this my bra-burning man hating life partner’s lower lip started to tremble and her eyes began to fill with tears, “My beloved bra-burning man hating life partner” she said, “why are the Rethuglicans doing this to the country?” Well, that was it for me: I finally fell apart. I just fell into my bra-burning man hating life partner arms and we both began sobbing for several minutes.

For once my beloved bra-burning man hating life partner had to comfort me and get me back on my feet, something no penis-wielding womb butcher could do. Sometimes I just think it’s too much, but seeing the strength in my bra-burning man hating life partner voice helped me to get through.

* Gratuitously stolen from Jeff @ P.W.

Original context for most of the article here.