The Creepy Visage of Tom Delay:
Look at that face in his mugshot. Stare at it for a moment. It won't turn you to stone (perhaps).

Look at the smile. That is a smile that says you are all worthless before Tom DeLay, that your meager rule of law does not concern him, that the judicial process is farcical and he will not only not be cowed, he will mock it with every unworked muscle in his face. "C'mon, fuckers," that smile says, like so many Mafia dons and made men and drug lords before him, "I'll play your little game as long as it suits me."

Look at his eyes. They are bloodshot, the look of a weary man. They are eyes that bespeak a sense of loss, of a soul, of a future. Maybe they even betray the smile and glistening teeth. More likely, though, the eyes speak to a long flight filled with cocktails and too many Ronnie Earle getting fucked by various animals jokes.

Look at how he presents himself. Jesus, someone combed his goddamn hair before the photo for there is nary a Grecian'ed wisp out of place. The perfect tie. The House of Representatives pin to demonstrate that he is, indeed, a powerful man, and none of the others in that room will touch him.

Ah, well. At least the Rude Pundit knows what he's wearing as a mask this Halloween. For children will run screaming into the arms of their mothers who, unspeakably frightened by the face of Tom DeLay, will ask the police to prevent such a horrific thing from being made public.