In a discussion of the qualities of that charming artifact called Senator Joe Lieberman (the only political figure who has ever appeared in my dreams [see An Inside Job #2]—that’s how I know I am a sick person), the gentleman & scholar “kommrade reproductive vigor” observed that “Lieberman is a dick, he knows he’s a dick and he enjoys being a dick. He could be a fucking Buddhist and he’d be a dick. If he were a Wiccan, he’d be a Wiccan dick.”

Since I live in northern California, I’m now unable to stop imagining the neo-pagan version of Holy Joe on the Senate floor. If such a thing comes about in my lifetime, I’ll know it’s a sign of social progress but I’ll still be yelling at the TV (e.g., “you dumbass, Robert Graves made that shit up!!”) as he drones on about how the “unbroken tradition of Mother Goddess worship upon which our civilization was [secretly] founded” means we have to help Ireland invade Morocco, etc.

And he would still oppose health care reform with the same excuses he does now, but he would do so while naked skyclad.