The Sad Tale of Karl Rove's Leather Slave:

Karl Rove's gay leather slave is weary. Rove keeps him chained in the basement of the White House, in between the chaise longue where Warren Harding used to fuck his favorite fat whore and the eight-track tape player on which Nixon played "Deutschland Uber Alles" to torment Kissinger (God, how Nixon laughed at Henry's discomfort, not realizing that the bespectacled Jew was pining for such Third Reich-like power over life and death). A portrait of George H.W. Bush has been turned to face the wall. The last few weeks have been rugged on Karl Rove's leather slave. Forced to watch Saddam's capture and the Twin Towers collapsing on a loop, over and over, for months now while Rove, wearing nipple clamps and smiling madly, made the leather slave lick his shaved balls over and over before jumping on top of him and inserting a butt plug into the slave's asshole, the leather slave has believed he deserved this fate. Bruised, tired of the taste of Rovean testes, and needing to take an unencumbered shit, Karl Rove's leather slave was still sympathetic, as a good lover should be. It's been a rough month or so for Master. By this point, Master expected to be up by at least ten points. But all of a sudden, things moved beyond his control, with the constant revelations of incompetence in Iraq and skyrocketing deficits. Unable to dominate the spin, Rove took it all out on his leather slave, trussing him up and inviting guests like Newt Gingrich and Kay Bailey Hutchison over to smack his ass with a cane while Rove masturbated at the welts and screams. Rove'll teach him, you bet, Rove'll teach 'em all.



Then, of course, Karl Rove's leather slave made a mistake. Late last week he asked his Rove-master to show him the Osama Bin Laden tape. Christ, what punishment, what a diet of semen, what a series of golden showers and shit piles on him. Now he's handcuffed, all lashed down, hunched over padded saw horses in the basement of the White House, a rubber ball strapped into his mouth. He's already been fucked and has had to felch, and now Rove, his master, is approaching, jacking off while lubing up the fifteen inch vibrator. In that moment, awaiting the prolonged prostate grinding, when the pain has long ago taken over from the pleasure, when there is no safe word to stop it all, and, fuck, he's got a hard rubber ball gag, as well as leather bit straps digging into his cheeks, perhaps Karl Rove's leather slave might have a moment of clarity. Perhaps he might think to himself, "What the fuck am I doing?"



It's a litmus test, you know. Imagine you are Karl Rove's leather slave in that moment of crisis, that second of doubt, when your life is crystallized for you, when the White House basement is nothing so much as Plato's Cave.



If, in that moment, you wanna get out of there, you want all this over with, you want to move on and see what life is like outside this bondage, sure, sure, you don't know where you'll go, but, fuck, anything's gotta be better than this, and if you flail about until you're free and you club Rove unconscious with his own vibrator and get the fuck out of there, you're a Kerry voter.



But if you think the world away from master is too scary and you're just grateful that the master is using lube on the vibrator, you're a Bush voter, and, if you win, be sure you enjoy your next four years.



Briefly Noted: Advice To Voters Confronted By a GOP Poll Watcher Challenging Your Legal Right To Vote:

While Ohio voters now appear to be able to go to the booths unencumbered by cocksuckers from the Republican party charging them with Voting-While-Black, in many other placed the scared GOP is using every dirty trick in the book to suppress the vote, from flyers to "poll watchers" and more. Here's the deal: using the President's approach of using violence to bring democracy to Iraq, if you see any fucker stuffing these kinds of letters or flyers into people's mail boxes or on their cars, or if you see some asshole harass voters at the polls themselves, punch that person. No, really. Punch them. Hard. Enough to drop them to the ground. One punch. They'll crumble like a house of cards. Sure, sure, a couple of people will get arrested, but the poll watcher will run away with his/her tail between his/her legs, and for every one poll watcher sent packing, running for Kleenex to stop the blood flowing from his/her nose, that's hundreds of people who will be able to vote freely.



And remember this and hold it dear: if they weren't scared of losing, they wouldn't do this. And they're scared to death right now because, as Dick Morris, former Clinton adviser, wanton sucker of hooker toes, and Murdoch spooge bucket, said on the Brian Lehrer Show in New York City a few months ago, if there's a significant number of undecideds left, it's trouble for Bush because "90% of the undecideds break against the incumbent in the voting booth."



Let's have some fun tomorrow.