"Where I was," by Governor Mark Sanford.

I was hiking the Appalachian trail and my GPS went, like, totally batshit.

I was on a double secret intelligence mission, investigating the South American cocaine trade, and tracked the source of the problem to the ass cheeks of an Argentinian stripper.

Fine, I was planning on starring in a local production of Evita and went to Buenos Aires to research the role.

Look, you just can't get good Gaucho steak in the states, ok?

I was taking tango lessons so I could take my wife dancing for her birthday. It was going to be a surprise, so thanks for screwing THAT up.

I was on a trade mission, trading American dollars for Argentinian blow jobs.

I was on a boat, cruising the Argentinian coastline. Alone. Totally alone. Completely and totally alone. I resent any and all implications that I was not totally alone.

I categorically deny that I was visiting the love child I fathered with an Argentinian supermodel. They don't even have Father's Day in Argentina, so there!

At least I wasn't in a Minneapolis airport bathroom.

John Edwards, people. John Edwards.

You remember how President Bush used to disappear to his ranch in Crawford? Well, I was practicing for when I became president and was checking out ranch property in Buenos Aires.

It was President Obama's fault. He forced that stimulus package on me so I went to get my package stimulated.

Hey, I'll tell you the same thing I told my wife: none of your fuckin' beeswax.

TOP 10 LETTERMAN JOKE APOLOGIES

10) Sorry. I thought the kid at the game was the one who already got pregnant. Not the one's who's going to get pregnant in 3 years.  

9) It was wrong to joke that A-Rod could've knocked up your kid. The way the Yankees had been playing I didn't think they could hit anything. 

8) It was Conan's line. He bet me $10 I wouldn't do it.  

7) The slutty flight attendant reference was not only insulting. It was wrong. There are no slutty flight attendants anymore. The last one got elected to congress from Minnesota.  

6) I was thrown by the sight of Giuliani out in the daytime and momentarily lost all reason.  

5) I didn't write that joke. I got it from Bill O'Reilly's loofah file.  

4) I was thrown by the fact that you were in New York. You know we have Jews here, right?  

3) Sorry. Now Greta Van Susteren hates me, too. Now I'll never be invited to the Scientology picnic.  

2) Fuck you and the dogsled you rode in on.  

1) Hey, at least I didn't do a joke about the retard. What's his name? Oh, yeah, Todd.

Move over Twitter. Make Room for Shitter ™ !

Thanks to Twitter, we are no longer sadly unaware of what everyone else is doing, thinking, or feeling at every single moment of every single day. Except for that one time that had traditionally been private: taking a dump. But that empty space in American life will now be filled, thanks to Shitter ™, the new social networking site for people taking a crap.

Prior to this innovation, sitting on the toilet was a moment reserved for reading, reflection, or perhaps even despising your friend who came up with the brilliant late-night idea, in the form of “hey, I just heard about this fabulous new Moroccan restaurant. Let’s check it out!” Regardless, thanks to your cell phone or netbook, those heretofore private moments need not remain private anymore. 

In what will become known as “sheeting,” those who sign up for Shitter ™ will be able to  communicate their every thought, feeling, and emotion while on the can. What are you thinking? Are you having a good time? Is it going well?  Is this a home or away game? And, if away, how are the facilities? Luxurious, marble hotel stall with two-ply rolls and a basket of hand towels? Or urine-soaked public park crapper littered with used condoms and candy wrappers?

“Sheets” will have to be under 50 characters, creating even more of a challenge to be succinct, pithy, and to the point. Whether the pit stop is a respite from one’s troubles, or an intrusive, but necessary detour from a pleasurable, exciting, and stimulating day, there will always be time to fire off a quick “sheet” and let the world know how it’s going.

Shitter ™. Because keeping your thoughts private is just so last century. 

MADONNA GOES SHOPPING FOR ANOTHER BLACK KID

Madonna’s private plane landed in Malawi so that she could bring home another black kid. Apparently, she’s not satisfied with just the one. Maybe it’s a matched set kind of thing. Or maybe she’s trying to paper the house for her next movie premiere. Or maybe, just maybe it’s part of a friendly competition between her, Mia Farrow, and Angelina Jolie, over who can adopt their own U.N. When I was growing up, everyone collected baseball cards. We’d sit on the porch and play “got ‘im, need ‘im,” which went along the lines of someone naming a player and everyone flipping through their stack to see whether they had ‘im, or needed ‘im. Is that what this is?

 

African kid?

Madonna: Got ‘im.

Mia: Got ‘im.

Angelina: Got ‘im.

 

Asian Kid?

Angelina: Got ‘im.

Madonna: Need ‘im.

Mia: Got ‘im.

 

Adopted white kid?

Angelina: Need ‘im.

Madonna: Need ‘im.

Mia: Got ‘im.

 

Natural White Kid?

Angelina: Got ‘im.

Mia: Got ‘im.

Madonna: Got ‘im.

 

And from there it just goes on…

Still with the father of the natural white kid?

Angelina: Got ‘im.

Mia: Need ‘im.

Madonna: Need ‘im.

 

Film career?

Madonna: Need it.

Mia: Had it. Need ‘it.

Angelina: Got it.

 

Pseudo religious affectation to show I’m not a filthy rich narcissist but truly

a spiritual person?

Mia: Need it.

Angelina: Need it.

Madonna: Got it.

 

Genius filmmaker ex husband/boyrfriend?

Angelina: Did you see Slingblade?…

Madonna: Did you see  Into The Wild? Did you see Snatch?…

Mia: What, are you fucking kidding me?

 

Ridiculously young boyfriend to show I’ve still got it?

Mia: Need it.

Madonna: Got it.

Angelina: What, are you fucking kidding me?

 

 

 

When Did This Become America?

When did this become America? Coarse, crass, and crude. Long on attitude and opinion, short on knowledge and substance.

 

When did this become America? Bloated. Corpulent. Engorged on its over-fed appetites.

 

When did this become America? With bellicose porcine grunting replacing intelligent discourse. Where the desire is not to communicate, but to incite.

 

When did this become America? Blind to the difference between righteousness and self-righteousness. Flailing against any human weakness, yet blind to its own addictions.

 

When did this become America? Greedy, selfish, intolerant. Where the lust for power supersedes the desire for communal prosperity, as if we lived in independent spheres, sucking on our individual fortunes. Where pulling oneself up necessitates keeping someone else down.

 

When did this become America? Bellicose. Belligerent. Afraid of intelligent dialogue and shouting down dissent.

 

When did this become America? Brash, stubborn. Snorting anger like some incensed bull under the purported intention of voicing the popular rage.

 

This is not America. This is the American disease. 

SEPARATED AT BIRTH?

President Obama vs. The Republican Party -- Dumb Motherfuckers Just Don't Know When They're Beat.