Obama’s Balls.

I was home sick again today with a sore face, sinus congestion and the usual cast of wintertime cold symptoms. Unable to sleep, but not really feeling up to doing much, I tested the waters of daytime TV. 172 channels and all I could find was garbage and a steady loop of news that wasn’t really news. Here’s a recap:

“Thank you, Dianne, and here’s Mr. Obama dancing with some old white lady.” Click.

“My sister is a whore and a stripper!” Click.

“Yes, Jack, this is a very exciting day, now let’s watch as Mr. Obama ties his shoe.” Click.

“Family Sex Secrets REVEALED! Next on the Maury Povich.” Click.

So I killed the TV and proceeded to clean the house. While I hate to be presumptuous, I’m fairly certain scrubbing the toilet bowl was a far more enlightening experience than finding out what brand of toothpicks the Obama family keeps in their cupboard or that some guy in Kentucky has a secret obsession with midgets dressed like Marilyn Monroe.

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