With the smell of Rove's chestnuts roasting on an open fire, I wish you all a wonderful holiday season.
I also suggest that you rest up. Unless you are one of the 90% of the population that watches more Flavor of Love than nightly news, you probably know that January 1st marks the dawning of the mighty political season.
Somewhere in the distance I can just about make out Hillary's attempt to banish Bill's wayward balls into a time released chastity belt. Not to be outdone, McCain is having his wooden arm sprayed for termites while anticipating the very necessary, patently non-gay ass reaming from Falwell needed to earn the Righteous Right.
And way beyond that, if you listen closely while properly inebriated, you can hear Michelle spritzing her aerodynamic 'do with Dark and Lovely Holding Spray as she fights Hawaii's humidity and the paparazzi stalking her husband. Oblivious to it all, Obama is playing multi-cultural dozens with the fam and writing his acceptance speech.
In honor of the season I have upped my cable package so as not to miss one moment of Chris Matthews, Jon Stewart, or Bill Mahr.
Until then I promise not to stab any wayward family members over dinner. You should do the same.
I don't think you get the internets in the joint.
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