The basket of crazies is so filled up lately that Michele Bachmann has to wiggle her way to the top with something dumber than bean dip just to get noticed.

And she did.  Marriage equality scares the beejeebers outta her.

“And the thing that I think is getting a little tiresome is the gay community have so bullied the American people and they have so intimidated politicians that politicians fear them and they think they get to dictate the agenda everywhere.”

So let me see if I have this right. The gays are the bullies and day is now night.

A question for Michele: are those mean ole gays just bullying your husband into flamboyancy?

Thanks to Jay for the heads up and John for the cool graphic.

One of the biggest races in the Republican run-off in Texas is for Lt. Governor with incumbent David Dewhurst facing Holy Crap He’s Nuts Dan Patrick, who is, by all tabulation the front runner.

So a debate seems to be in order, right?  I got the Gulf Coast concession on tequila for that debate.

They have decided on a private debate with no press allowed.  That is not a debate.  That is a honeymoon spat.

Houston developer Jay Williams, the C Club’s vice president, confirmed late Friday that the news media will not be allowed to cover the Patrick-Dewhurst debate.

“This is a private event for just the C Club,” he said. “Members only.”

Then there’s this:

While the format hasn’t been finalized, Williams said club president David Peacock, the debate moderator, will select from questions submitted by members in advance and “will be able to ask follow ups.”

Okay, I’m wrong.  This is not a honeymoon spat.  It’s a honeymoon pillow fight.

Okay, so here’s the membership list of the C Club, whose motto is “Keeping Houston politics fiscally conservative.”  Can someone, anyone, find the name of one woman on the membership roll?

So, we’re talking about a gay honeymoon pillow fight?

Thanks to Patrick for the heads up.

As luck would have it, we have not heard from the guns of Wisconsin before now.

A man is injured in his second-floor apartment in West Bend when he was struck by a wayward bullet.

Police say a man on the first floor of the apartment building was handling a rifle when it shot up through the ceiling Tuesday night. WTMJ-TV says the bullet hit the second-floor resident in the stomach. He was taken to the hospital with non-life threatening injuries.

Officers arrested the man handling the rifle.

Rule of thumb for you not-a-physics majors:  If you live on the first floor, point your down.  Second floor – point it up.

Thanks to Larry for the heads up.

Honey, there is no such thing as a Republican woman.  There are Republican girls but once a girl becomes a woman, she becomes a Democrat.

This is the damn strangest story.  Texas Attorney General Greg Abbott is running for Governor of the Great State of Texas.  The only problem is that Abbott ain’t all that fond of hooter toters.  He wants to stand between women and their doctors, women and their God, women and their marriage choices, and women and their right to work for less money than men.

As you might suspect, this ain’t going over real big with Texas women.  However, Texas girls don’t mind it much, so some of them are getting paid to form a PAC called “Red State Women.”

Greg Abbott did not support the Lilly Ledbetter Act for Texas.  Do you wanna know why?

Here ya go.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4hpr5Gaffrw

Women do not want equal pay for equal work.  Women are very busy so they want something practical, you know, like more jobs for less pay.  Better we have two jobs that don’t pay the same as a man than one job that does.  Because we’re busy.  And practical.  Freedom.  Busy.  Errrr … busy.

And this is the damn leader of the Red State Women PAC.  The smartest one.  She is being paid.  Money.  Not the same as a a man would be paid, of course, because she’s busy.

Look, somebody grab a dipstick and check her estrogen level.  I think she’s about a quart low.

Thanks to Brian C for the heads up.

Out in Lubbock, Texas, which is so far out there that neither God nor Goggle can find them on a map, they had a monster dust storm.

So, the news comes on and by gawd the National Weather Service started talked A-rab.

“Haboob northwest of Lubbock as seen from the Science Spectrum,” the NWS warned. “If you must drive west of Lubbock, plan for near-zero visibility in blowing dust and strong winds of 50+ mph.”

Although haboobs are more commonly known as “dust storms,” a NWS meteorologist said the Arabic word refers to a particular weather phenomenon.

So Cletus and the boys over at Dirty Sally’s Bowling Alley and Fine Dining go bonkers.  They take to Facebook and write on the National Weather Service’s page.

“Never had a haboob until we got that muslim boob for potus,” said viewer Jeff Bertrand.

Never mind that we have been calling them haboobs since the 1950’s.

But, Cletus’ wife, Judy, wins the Good Lord I Am Obsessed With All Caps award with her carrying on.

I don’t think Cletus got dinner that night because Judy was out there dead set and determined that science, which she doesn’t believe in the first place, use American terminology because the United States of Damn America owned all the dirt before them Arabs stole it.

The English language uses many words with Arabic origins, including cotton, algebra, candy, lemon, alcohol, and sofa.

Alcohol, Cletus, alcohol.  However, I’m pretty certain that Cletus thinks they can have that algebra crap back.

Hey, Cletus, hurricane is a Spanish word, tropical depression comes from the damn tropics, and the term “heat wave” comes from your butt.

Thanks to everybody for the heads up.

San Antonio, Texas.  That’s where I was this weekend.

A 25-year-old Odessa man accidentally shot himself after he left a Downtown restaurant.

The man had been at Hooters near Alamo Plaza and was in his car and trying to load a 45-automatic weapon in his lap. The gun accidentally discharged. The bullet went through the man’s thigh and came through his knee.

This is how you make compassion turn to snickers:

He’s gonna have a lifetime of explaining that limp, ya know.  “Well, it started at Hooters and ended at Dumbassville.”

Thanks to Larry for the heads up.