Thursday, July 1, 2010

AL GORE’S JOURNEY TO ENLIGHTENMENT: HIS SECOND CHAKRA

Did anyone see this one coming? The world’s foremost environmentalist is a Pee-pee Toucher. Saving the planet apparently has its privileges, which include hotels that include condoms in the welcome basket, and on-call masseuses with optional happy ending.

Oops! Another false idol with feet of real clay. At least Gore’s mentor had better taste in women. Monica Lewinsky, while a little on the Zaftig side was at least, young, nubile and most important willing, as opposed to the middle-aged victim who is, against all odds, an actual, legitimate, professional on-call masseuse and not-interested-at -all- thank-you-very much. In an additional ironic twist, the former Vice-President is apparently a premature ejaculator, leaving a trail of spooge as distinct as the Gulf Oil spill on her clothing. And the yet-to-be-identified victim learned from her predecessor in the Clinton White House, carefully preserving evidence on her slacks.

What are the odds that for eight years running we had a matched set of horny varmints in the White House? Like the victim, I’m sure that this incident was not a first for the “Sex Crazed Poodle” formerly known as Al Gore. This renaissance man has been busily trotting the globe going from one Pito Tweezeling to the next ever since receiving the Academy Award.

Abetted by the staff of writers that produced “An Inconvenient Truth”, he probably had some killer pick up lines. I can just hear him:

“You are so hot; you may be causing global warming.”

“Can I pay for this massage with Carbon Credits?”

“You know that along with “Love Story”, Debbie does Dallas” was also based on my life.”

“I really didn’t invent the entire Internet, just the good parts.”

And to quote Gary Glitter: “Do wanna touch me there? Where? There! Yeah! Oh Yeah, Oh yeah!”.

Not to cast aspersions on the spirit of free market enterprise, I can imagine
THE PHONE CALL:

3 AM at the Gore compound somewhere in Tennessee, the phone rings incessantly. Tipper Gore takes the phone and answers:

“Gore residence, do you have any idea what time it is?”

A female voice responds:

“ I’m sorry but I must speak to Vice President Gore, it’s an emergency.”


Al Gore slowly wakes and rolls over...

“What is it sweety?” he asks.

“Some woman, she says it’s an emergency” Tipper replies in an icy tone, eyeing a heavy crystal ashtray.

“Must be an environmentalist activist , they never rest” ...Al takes the phone.

“Hello, Al Gore, Inventor of the Internet, basis for eternal romantic drama, savior of the planet and the legitimate 43rd President of the United States here. May I help you?”

The unidentified woman:

“Mr. Vice President, I have an important business proposition for you”

“Lady, I invented that Carbon Credit scam, are you pulling my leg?”

“Not like you wanted me to, you globally overheated sex poodle”

Gore goes ashen and is visibly shaken.

“Holy Mother of God! It’s Portland, Isn’t it?”

“What’s wrong in Portland honey?” Asks Tipper suspiciously. She has gotten out of bed and is standing across the room and is now hefting the crystal ashtray .

“There’s been a spill honey, it could be a disastrous biological incident” he answers in a wavering voice.

The woman on the phone continues:“Al, remember how immediate your needs were in your second Chakra? You prematurely deposited your carbon footprint all over my nice new slacks. I kept those slacks Al, and now I want to sell them.... To you. .....”

Gore flinches as the heavy ashtray flies past his head, shattering loudly against the bedroom wall.

A Secret Service agent kicks the door open, weapon in hand

“Mr. Vice-President! Are you OK? “ he asks alarmed

”It’s Tipper! She’s gone berserk again! Save me! And it’s Mr. President, not Vice President. How many times do I have to tell you that George Bush stole that election!”

The Agent holsters his gun and draws a Tazer, aiming it at Tipper who is searching for additional missiles to heave at her husband.

“Mrs . Gore, there is no reason to get violent again. . .” The agent says in soothing tones.

“Global warming my ass!” snarls Tipper, “I knew that was all B.S.! Don’t TAZE me bro, don’t TAZE me!...AHHH!!! “

It’s too bad that our current President isn’t into the “Nuts and Sluts” a la Clinton and now Gore. The Venial sins of picking off the occasional campaign groupie or White House Intern don’t compare with the the thorough reaming that Obama is giving the republic.

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