You know I’m going to love any news story with Tom DeLay in it.

And since I almost single-handedly keep the Dairy Queen in business, Alfredo makes sure that I get to see them all.

This one is primarily about Shelton Adelson being so crooked that he has to screw on his socks in the morning.  I knew that Adelson was on a first name basis with the bottom of the deck and that he’s so untrustworthy that he has to have someone else call the hogs, but I didn’t know how really, really evil this guy is.

Adelson is under investigation by several federal agencies.

Then there’s an unrelated investigation by the United States attorney’s office in Los Angeles into whether the Sands Corporation violated federal money-laundering laws by accepting millions from high-rolling gamblers accused of drug trafficking and embezzlement. The Wall Street Journal reported earlier this month that federal authorities are examining whether the casino should have reported the suspicious funds to the government. Instead, the company accepted $100 million from one of the gamblers and gave him free hotel rooms, plane rides and large lines of credit.

So, what folks are wondering is, does Sheldon have some ulterior reason for wanting to buy the Presidency for Mitt Romney?  Has Sheldon bought politicians before?

Of course he has.

Tom DeLay.

In 2001, when China was making a pitch to hold the Olympics, it was worried about a resolution pending in the House that would oppose the bid because of its “abominable human rights record.” To curry favor with China, Mr. Adelson called Tom DeLay, then the House majority whip — and another recipient of Mr. Adelson’s campaign generosity — and urged him to block the resolution, according to a court deposition by William Weidner, then the president of Sands. Mr. DeLay quickly promised the bill would never see the light of day, and he was true to his word.

Good Lord, the guy is a horse thief and whorehouse gambler.  And he needs buy a President.

Bless Mitt Romney’s heart, he is a hooker without a heart of gold.  Or any kind of heart, for that matter.

Thanks to Alfredo over at the Dairy Queen for the heads up.

Take this into the weekend with you.

Thanks to Diane for the heads up.

Most of you guys remember that my Bubba was regularly getting snail mail from some guy with no guts who printed out hateful emails he got about the President of the United States and mailed them to Bubba.  His return address was the downtown Houston NAACP office, which was supposed to be some kind of clever joke.

He went missing for a month and we were pretty sure he was in the craft room over at the Rolling Stone 19th Nervous Breakdown Mental Health and Invisible Butterfly Chasing Facility.

Apparently, he escaped.  And he found Fort Bend Democrats.

So, I opened it to see if anything was written in crayola this time and, sure ‘nuf, the first thing I see is this:

I want you to notice how many times that had been forwarded.  The second thing I opened was this —

Yeah, it is some intellectual joke about how Cheeta from the Tarzan movies …. oh crap, I refuse to even think about it.

Just a word to Mitt Romney.  Maybe, sir, and I mean this in the most respectful way I can say it, you should SHUT THE HELL UP about other people being divisive and hateful.  The sheep behind you need to get the flock outta here.

I quit opening stuff, but do find some comfort that the anonymous dude spent money on 5 stamps that goes toward our brothers and sisters of the United Postal Workers.

So, the next time you hear some rightwing Republican say this isn’t about race, show him how many times these were forwarded before this fool printed them out and mailed them to me.

Thanks to Alfredo over at the Dairy Queen who agrees with me that that’s about two pegs above the swanky level of the average RNC delegate.

I dunno.

People just have to quit seeing crap in stuff that I cannot see, literally in crap.

Brandon Tudor didn’t have to look at the man in the mirror. He looked at his windshield, and there he saw bird poop that seemed to resemble the King of Pop.

But faster than you can say, “I’ll Be There,” it disappeared in a rainstorm before he could sell it.

I do not want to be memorialized in cow crap or a Dorito, either.  If you see me in one of those, get a stick and break it – quick!  Also, quit drinking so much.