The Naked and the Wet

Be still my beating heart. Various sources are saying that Levi Johnston will pose nude for Playgirl magazine. Good for Levi. He might as well join his estranged almost in-laws and cash in the time sensitive Wal-Mart gift card. A glossy spread featuring Levi’s johnson is sure to warm the bristly cockles of Andrew Sullivan’s gay Tory beard.

I’ll treasure the pin up. There is a marred ocher space awaiting the photo in the hovel’s small trophy room, where other Scotch-taped mementos silently absorb the Peterson’s blended emissions.

…after an appropriate pregnant pause…

Double dog drat. Levi is not going to air out the todger. A semi-modest stud, he’ll limit public nudity to bare butt cheeks. This is a major disappointment. Although I’m reasonably sure Levi is blessed with hard marbled ass, thanks to ice hockey’s strenuous physical demands, D list celebrities dropping ‘trou’ is common fare. I believe Andy Dick’s website is nothing but digital pics of late-night moon shots.

Should Sarah Palin and Michele Bachmann agree to reprise classic black bra and panties catfight for free-market wampum, I’ll tape their titillating shoot next to Betty Page‘s hallowed shrine. Human Events could use the ensuing buzz to broaden the rag’s appeal.
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The mad howling you hear is Fox News’ reaction to President Obama winning the Nobel Peace Prize. I wonder how Dianne Slater will celebrate our Kenyan-in-chief’s unexpected honor. I gather from her recent published acid reflux she won’t be joining Democrat/Nazi party members goose-stepping about in flaming torchlight salute, draining steins while unedited Bibles smolder atop other leather bound bonfire fodder. I’m guessing Ms. Slater’s plans are more subdued: attacking bacon/cheese ball with mephitic gusto.
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Because of an unexpected splash of splendid weather, Adler suggested we accompany our canoes down to Dino’s this afternoon. He’s certain that no federal funding was allocated to ensnare tipsy water rats. Always erring on the side of paranoia, I’ll bribe Hippy Jim with appropriate contraband to be my designated paddle. This way I can fully appreciate the ride without worrying if sneaky creek cops are lurking behind impromptu tree dams. Securely strapped to the sturdy Coleman cooler, I know Adler will waste no time coming to the rescue if Coleman is swept into the surging brown current. He is nothing if not level headed.

Juan Don