God Save The Ding-a-Ling

I have been worried all day. My anxiety has been slowly rising and is now higher than Davis Hasselhoff’s blood alcohol concentration. What is the driving force behind my fear, apprehension, and anxiety? President Bush is having Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Phillip over for dinner tonight. I shudder to think of the verbal faux pas’ that will emanate from that wound below our President’s nose. The possibilities are endless.

Dubya: You look fabulous tonight your Hine-ASS hehehehe. Doesn’t your Hine-ASS look fabulous Phil? Hehehehe. Hey everybody, check out the Hine-ASS on this one. Damn I’m hungrier than an Ethiopian wiener dog, let’s get some chow.

Okay, so you don’t think that that could transpire, how about this?

Dubya: Yo Liz, what’s that stuff they eat in Scotland? Y’know, that intestine thing stuffed with sow liver and pig farts?

QE II: Haggis?

Dubya: Gesundheit!! Do you know Phil…? Hey did you two get to stop by Yorktown after y’all went to Jamestown. It’s pretty cool. It’s where us and the Frogs kicked Lord Cornwallis’ ass n’shit. Yo Condi, pass the A-1 would ya?

I am sure Dubya probably would have some questions about being a royal since he thinks he’s King.

Dubya: It must be pretty cool to sit in your big ass throne and call for traitors to be beheaded.

QE II: We don’t do that anymore.

Dubya: That’s a shame. I used to do it all the time when I was Governor of Texas. I fried more folks than McDonald’s has fried hamburgers. Or should I say Burger King!? Hey Phil, why aren’t you the King? WTF?

Phillip: It doesn’t work like that.

Dubya: Sounds like you need to grow a set of marbles muchacho. I bet you pee sittin’ down. Hehehehe. Either way, when you’re done, it’s a Royal Flush!! Hehehehe…Yo cue ball, yeah you Kojak, how about pouring me some more sack-ee.

I guess I really need to get my worries under control. I mean it’s not like Dubya is the kind of guy who asked the President of Brazil, “Do you have blacks too?”, or groped the Chancellor of Germany. He’s just not like that…Is he?

Until we meet again, Cheers!!

It's All Greek To Bush

(The beginning of this night on the town with Dubya is on the post below this one…)

Okay so GW and I are having a few drinks last night and let me tell you it was hard keeping a straight face looking at George tossing back Budweiser after Budweiser dressed in a Spider-Man suit. He asked where Schmoop was and I told him that when she heard that he was coming by; she made like a WMD and couldn’t be found. He laughed and then asked me what a WMD was. I said, “Exactly”.

I suggested that we go eat before Dubya got embarrassingly sloshed. This is what transpired…

Dubya: That’s a good ideal Matt-Man. Let’s hit the road. Are we going to that Grecian choke and puke that you mentioned yesterday?

Matt: Yeah if that’s alright.

Dubya: Sounds good…In a few minutes you’ll be calling me Ouzo the Clown.

Matt: Ummm Dubya could you please take your Spidey suit off before we go.

Dubya: Kill-Joy!! Ha just messin’ with ya Matt-Man…Let me strip…I have my party clothes on underneath. Ta Da!! Don’t I look hip and fabulous?

Matt: The blue jeans are fine, but why are you wearing a T-Shirt with a picture of Che’ Guevara on it?

Dubya: Che’ Guyberra? Hell, I thought it was Jesus Christ!! Who’s this Guyberra fella you’re talking about?

Matt: Nevermind…We better get going.

So off we went to Linardos Greek Restaurant. We were seated at the VIP booth, and our waitress introduced herself…

Waitress: Hi my name is Cassiopeia and I’ll be your server this evening. Can I interest you in anything from the bar or some appetizers?

Matt: (mumbling to myself) Oh dear God, here we go…

Dubya: Casy…Cassapeed..er…Yeah, Cathy Pita is it? How about a glass of Bagwine for the Matt-Man here, and I’ll have a bottle of Ouzo straight up. Oh, and hot wings if ya got ‘em.

Waitress: We sure do…I’ll get everything started for you gentlemen.

Dubya: See that you do Mons Venus, cuz I’m kinda like a Caesar, capiche?

Matt: What the hell are you doing?

Dubya: Just talking to her in her own language…

Matt: She’s GREEK not Italian.

Dubya: Well hell, Eye-Tal-lee-un…Grecians…They all look the same.

Several ouzos and hot wings later Dubya tried to place his order….

Dubya: Could I get Chicken Tikka Mughlai with extra curry sauce.

Waitress: I’m sorry sir, but we only prepare Greek fare and that’s an Indian dish.

Dubya: Indian!!? Well slap me on the ass and call me Sitting Bull, the things you learnt. Is my face red…hahahahaha…Do I have smoke signals coming out of my ears…hahahaha. Maybe I’ll go the bathroom and pull off some Tee-Pee…Do I need a RESERVATION for that….hahahahahaha...Hiya Hiya Hiya...

Shortly thereafter he broke into his version of a Cherokee war dance. Unfortunately, it had the effect of a rain dance because he had ouzo inspired piss all down the front of his pants.

I got a hold of one of his body guards and he took him away through the kitchen. Some lady came up to me and asked what was up with the crazy man. I said that he was just a bit stressed out. She said, “You wouldn’t expect that kind of behavior out of someone wearing a Jesus shirt.” I went home.

When I woke up this morning there was a message on the machine. “Yo, Matt-Man. Great time last night pardner. My only regret is that I didn’t get to do any Greco-Texan wrasslin’ with Cathy Pita…Oh well, keep the Spidey suit mi amigo. Adioooooos!!”

What a night…I will see you all back here tomorrow for another fun filled Stream of Consciousness Friiiiiiiday….Cheers!!

President Bush Spins His Web

President Bush and I had a relatively calm evening, but there were a few interesting moments. He started things off with a big surprise. At 5:30 p.m. the phone rang and it was Dubya. He said, Yo Matt-Man, I’ll be down in two shakes.” And then he hung up. I was wondering what he meant by he’d be “down”. I then turned around and saw some dude in a Spider-Man suit hanging by a rope outside of my window. The guy started waving and then said, “Pull me in amigo before I put you in a web of mass destruction, hehehehe.” It was Dubya. I opened the window, pulled him in, and got the rope off of him. “Ooooooweeeeee that was fun. Now get me a beer Matt-Man, I’m starved!!”

When I came back with his beer, he was still in his suit climbing on the furniture and dancing around with moves that appeared to be a cross between a novice ninja on crack and Napoleon Dynamite’s Happy Hands Club skills. I gave him his beer and he proceeded to drink it but it ran all down his face and chest. I told him that he might want to take off his Spidey mask before his next beer. He replied, “Good tip Matt-Man. You’re one smart varmint.” I then asked him what was up with the Spider-Man suit, and the conversation went like this…

Matt: George, why do you have a Spider-Man suit on?

Dubya: Because it’s tress chick and I admire Peter Piper.

Matt: Peter Piper?

Dubya: C’mon Matt-Man, Peter Piper!! You know, Spider-Man’s ultra ego. Sheesh.

Matt: Spidey’s alter ego is Peter PARKER.

Dubya: No shit? Then who the hell is Peter Piper?

Matt: Peter Piper picks pickled peppers.

Dubya: Ahhhh migrant worker…funny name fer a Meh-hee-can…

Matt: Dubya he’s a…

Dubya: …tell him not to worry Matt-Man, he’s welcome in our country as long as I’m the Gringo-in-Chief , baby….Boo Yah!! Spider-Man, Spider-Man, does whatever a spider can…

After the paralyzing disbelief removed itself from my face I went into the kitchen and fetched President Spidey another beer, and poured myself a HUGE glass of Wild Irish Rose. Oh there’s more to our night out, but those details will have to wait until later today.

Until this afternoon, Cheers!!

President Bush, Tipp City, and Matt-Man

Hot Diggity Damn!! I am having dinner with President Bush tonight. It’s the first time we will be getting together since the infamous dinner party. (Which if you are one of the few who are unfamiliar with it, you can click HERE to read about it.) Bush is going to be speaking in Tipp City, Ohio at Tippecanoe High School tomorrow. Tipp City is about 35 minutes west of here, so he is going to arrive here tonight in secrecy…ooops…have dinner with me, and stay all night at the Bagwine digs with Schmoop and me. Ahhh, it will be like old times, Matt-Man and Dubya…trippin’ the light fantastic.

I just got off of the phone with him a little while ago. I don’t know who was more excited, him or I? I just happen to have a transcript of the conversation…

Dubya: Yo, Matt-Man mi amigo…G-Dub here, what’s up in your part of the world?

Matt: Holy Moly!! Not much Dubya, long time, no see. What’s going on?

Dubya: Well, I’m gonna be speakin’ at Tippuhganoo High School tomorrow and thought I could swing by your neck of the woods tonight. Y’know, we could throw some groceries down our throats and maybe kick it a little. What say you, Bagman?

Matt: Cool. Tippecanoe High School, eh? Reminds ya of “Tippecanoe and Tyler Too” doesn’t it?

Dubya: Of what?

Matt: William Henry Harrison’s slogan…

Dubya: Who is that? Is he running for something in ’08? Or are you fucking with me? Man, that’s why I like you…You’re always messin’ with my head…Ouch damn, I—

Matt: Are you alright Dubya? What hap—

Dubya: Some bitch…Yo Jenna, put your damn Wild Turkey down and go get yer daddy a band-aid…er…scratch that, get me a dish towel and some bailin’ wharr. Yo Matt-Man got any good Grecian joints there?

Matt: Well, there’s thi--

Dubya: I got a hankerin’ for some Slovakia, ardychokes, and some box-lava. Hell, I might even get a nice rack of ham. And don’t ferget Matty-Boy, I’m a Floozo for Ouzo!! Oooooooopah!!....

Matt: Fine sir, I’ll take to you a place that is run by a friend of mi--

Dubya: Aw thanks Jenna, now bring me that bottle on my desk and then go brush your teeth…What’s the joint called pardner?

Matt: A friend of mine runs it…It’s called Linardos’

Dubya: Linardos? That sounds kinda gay to me. He’s not gay is he? You know how some of those Grecians can be…

Matt: Not to my knowled—

Dubya: I dont trust no ouzo drinkin’ homo…uh, hold on…Top notch, heckuva job…here, have a Medal of Freedom. Sorry ‘bout that Matt-Man, but the head of campus security for Virginia Tech University just popped in.

Matt: Okie Dokie Dubya…Sounds good, and I am sure Schmoop will be “excited” as well.

Dubya: Tell her, that I’ll make sure not to pee on the seat this go ‘round. Okay gotta run Matt-Man. I can’t tell you the exact time I’ll be there, but my advance team will be there two hours and seven minutes before me. Sorry to leave you in the dark amigo, but you know…security issues.

Matt: That’s fine, I’ll see ya tonight Dubya.

Dubya: Later muchacho…Hi-Ho Condiiiiiiiii away!!!

I'll have a full report of our Presenditial shenanigans tomorrow folks....Cheers!!

The Party's Over But The Memories Last

As the pan flute stylings of Zamfir filled the room with joy, the guests began to arrive. Dubya stood next to me dressed in blue jeans and nice white dress shirt. Joe Stalin and Gina Lollobrigida got to the apartment around 5 o’clock. As they entered, George immediately yelled, “Hey Joe, whadda ya know. See there young lady, I’m a poet and didn’t even know it. Hahahahaha”

I stepped in to introduce President Bush to Gina. Dubya said, “Gina Lollo..er Lablo, er…Lubeya…hell, sounds like something out of Austin Powers, I’ll just call you G-Spot.” And as I had feared, Dubya then turned to Stalin and said, “Hey Joe, she’s pretty hot for a dago.” Fortunately Gina had gone over to the appetizer table and didn’t hear it.

I made drinks for everyone. Gina had a vodka martini with two olives, George had Jack and Coke, and Stalin, oddly enough wanted Champagne because as he said, “The bubbles tickle my nose, and it makes me feel pretty.” I of course, was chugging down some Wild Irish Rose. After a couple of rounds, we started wondering where the Messiah was. Stalin had to go to the bathroom to take a leak and when he entered we heard an amazingly loud shriek followed by raucous laughter.

From the bathroom emerged not only a guffawing Joe with piss running down the front of his pants, but Christ Almighty himself, laughing just as enthusiastically. Turns out Jesus had been there all along and was hiding in the bathroom until someone had to go….What a freakin’ prankster the Son of God turned out to be. Who knew?

We spent a couple of hours drinking, chatting, and noshing. I was surprised by the lovely Ms. Lollobrigida. She is a PIG. Holy crap she was going down on those wings like a fluffer on a porno set. Hell, I couldn’t keep the “Cruci-Fixins Bar” stocked fast enough. At one point Dubya said, “Hey G-Spot, you wanna take your feed bag off for a second and save some for the rest of us, capiche?” And the gas!! Wow. She wasn’t anything like I had imagined, of course that didn’t stop me from having drunken sex with her in the shower at three in the morning.

Stalin was getting pretty buzzed on the champers. Evidently he brought some of his own CDs with him, because all of a sudden, the soundtrack to “Fiddler on the Roof” was blasting through the apartment. I turned to Gina and asked her how her trip with Joe went. She said, “just fine.” Then I said, “Did he try to hit on you or anything?” She said, “Of course not, Joe is a queen from way back…Not that there’s anything wrong with that. “Really?”, I asked. She said, “Well of course, Matt. Hell, he’s not playing the soundtrack to “Fiddler on the Roof” because he’s Russian. He’s playing it because he likes show tunes.” To which I replied, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

The drinking and cavorting was going well, too well. I had forgotten about the dinner in the oven. Everything except the slice of fattened calf was caulderized beyond recognition. Jesus, said to me, “Wow, I wasn’t expecting a burnt offering.” “Very funny” I said, “but your food is still okay, would you like it now Jesus.” He said, “No, I’ll take it home later, to eat it now would be nothing more than a buzz kill.” Everyone agreed with him and said, “No worries, Matt-Man.”

The drinks continued to flow and the action was getting hot. Jesus was dancing with Gina. Dubya and Joe were discussing which one of them was more hated, and I was busy keeping their glasses full. GW decided he would DJ for awhile and thought it would be hilarious if he played “Sympathy for the Devil”. JC just shook his head, chuckled, and said, “Turn it up, George.” Bush responded by saying, “Don’t get CROSS with me, Hay-Zoos.”

This is about the time that things started turning ugly. Shortly after being told that I didn’t have the soundtrack to “South Pacific”, Stalin stripped down to his pantyhose, and ran through the hallway of the apartment screaming, “Divide and Rule….Divide and Rule!!” George asked Jesus, “Hey, Hay-Zoos, you gonna NAIL, G-Spot?” And continued, “Hey Christ-Boy, when you get mad, do you say Dad Dammit?” That’s when GW ripped his dress shirt off, revealing a T-Shirt that said, “Free Moustache Rides.”

I had to use the bathroom and that’s when I found Gina hurling a colorful, yet ungodly smelling green discharge from her mouth. None of which found its way into the toilet of course. I helped get her cleaned up and went back to the living room.

Jesus had Dubya in a head lock and was pounding the living crap out of him. I asked JC why he was pulverizing Dubya’s head. He said, “President Nitwit just asked me how it felt to only come twice in my life.” I broke the two up and just then there was a knock at the door. I opened the door and saw three men in suits and sunglasses staring back at me. The one in the middle gently pushed me to the side, entered the apartment, picked the President up off of the floor and took him away. The other two asked me if I had any videotapes or pictures of the event. I said, “no”. The lights went off for about ten seconds and when they came back on, the men were gone.

Jesus collected his things and piece of meat, and thanked me for the hospitality. He said “take care, my son”, and then vanished into the pre-dawn light. I went into the bathroom and found Gina lying in the shower. So, I turned it on and we had hot, kinky shower sex for about forty-five minutes. She was even awake for about six minutes of it. At about 10 AM she woke up, got dressed, kissed me on the cheek, and told me to call her.

If you’re wondering what happened to Joe, I have a pretty good idea. I turned on the news after Gina left and there was a report that an elderly man in pantyhose had broken into the Family Video store and fled with DVDs of “The King and I” and “Guys and Dolls”. He was currently in custody and the police were waiting for a Russian interpreter.

I went to take a shower. When I came back out there was message on my machine. I played and it said, “Holy Moly Matt-Man, that was one helluva party. Next time we’ll trash Camp David. Adios mi amigo.”

What a party indeed. I went into the kitchen to start cleaning up and found a note on kitchen faucet. It read, “Matt, enjoy your new sink fixture, JC.” I turned it on and sure enough, the Rose was flowing. Praise be to God.

And Now Our Moment of Hinn…

“Голодное брюхо ко всему глухо.”

--Josef Stalin

Ach Du Lieber !!

Well, everyone was gone by noon yesterday, and I think they all had a good time. I know I did, well, except for a few unfortunate events.

Friday afternoon, I picked Dubya up at the airport. He wanted to keep a low profile, so he was dressed as a German tourist. As we were walking through the airport, he greeted every passer-by with the phrase, “Guten Tag, mi amigo.” I was thinking to myself, who does he think he is, “Adolf Rodriguez?” Also, and trust me on this, the sight of George Bush in lederhosen is quite disturbing.

Upon our arrival to my abode in Springfield, he unpacked and we sat outside and had a few beers and pretzels. As you can see from the picture, President Bush remained incognito. Later, we ordered a pizza, had a nightcap, and got ready for bed. I insisted that he take my bed, but he wanted to sleep on the living room couch so he could watch TV.

I’ll have to admit, GW was kinda cute lying there on the couch watching, “Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends.”, but when I woke up Saturday morning the sight of him was a bit more troubling. When I walked into the living room at 7AM, I was greeted by the sight of our President, still clad in lederhosen, watching “The Wiggles”, and singing along with them as they performed “Fruit Salad, Yummy, Yummy.” I simply turned away and went to the kitchen to make coffee.

After that, we spent the day getting ready for the party. Later today, I will get into the hilarious details of the party, but first things first. The manager of the apartment complex called and wants to meet with me to “re-visit” some of the building rules. I also have to go out and get some stain remover for the bathroom floor. Seems Ms. Lollobrigida found out the hard way, that a fifth of vodka and a half-gallon of Spumoni ice cream don’t mix well.

Until then…Cheers.

Let's Get Ready To Rummmmmmmble

I have everything well in place for tomorrow night’s soiree. I’ve got all the essential party supplies and entertainment picked out and ready to go. My playing cards, poker chips, and Pictionary game have been set out. The sound system is cleaned and ready to blast some tunes after dinner.

I didn’t want to be too structured because I want the party to just kinda flow. I did; however, want to select some nice music for when they arrive, through the cocktail hour, and during dinner. Nothing too rock ‘n’ roll and something familiar on an international level. Van Cliburn, Yo Yo Ma, and Yanni all came to mind, but I ended up selecting the melodic instrumental musings of a true genius. My guests will be entertained by the recordings of “Zamfir, Master of the Pan Flute”. After dinner I’ll put some rock on and get jiggy with it.

I went to the Grocery and the Liquor store yesterday. Boy did I go all out. I bought bottles of Jack, Stoly, Crown Royal, Beefeaters, Bacardis, assorted mixers, beer, some Chianti, and of course, Wild Irish Rose. Dubya offered to bartend for some reason. I just hope he doesn’t ask Christ if he wants a Bloody Mary or a Virgin Margarita.

I secured all of the groceries for the feast that I have planned. The carefully prepared eats will result in a salacious orgy of oral sensation, trust me on that.

Appetizers for the Cocktail Hour have been named for each member of the party. I want to make certain that each person feels as though he or she is the guest of honor.

In honor of Stalin, I am serving potato skins loaded with cheese, bacon, and sour cream with a Vienna Sausage on top. I call it: “The Little Dictator”

I want to make sure that the Almighty has something kosher to nosh on, so I have set aside a table with a plate full of empty knishes. They wont stay empty long however; because I am setting up a platter full of fish, mushrooms, cheese, pastrami, corned beef, and other items to personalize each knish. I call it: “The Cruci-Fixins Bar”

If JC has too many of those goodies, he’ll have to work those newly found calories off by doing a couple of sessions of Pontius Pilates!! But I digress.

For the lovely Ms. Lollobrigida how about something light, a fun little finger sandwich using Watercress, Oil, and Pimentos. I call it: “The WOP”

I think Gina is getting a bit slighted on her hors d’oeuvre, but she shouldn’t worry, because she will be the belle of the ball come dessert time. Why, you ask? Well, because I am serving rich and creamy “Chocolate Mussolini”.

Lastly, our beloved leader, President Bush, what could I possibly come up with to honor him. What says American Happy Hour more than chicken wings? I’ll cook a couple dozen wings and soak them in tongue searing “Dumb Ass Hot Sauce” and “Jack Daniels”. Oh yeah, these are I what I call: “Wings of Mass Destruction”

Knowing Crazy Joe, he’ll eat them up as soon as he gets there and say, “Hey, Bushie, where did all of your WMDs go? HaHaHaHaHa” Don’t fret Mr. President, he will be raving about the “AWOLdorf Salad” that I made in your honor.

That completes the appetizers and some of the dinner items we will be having. For the main meal four of us will be having a turkey leg, mashed potatoes, fruit cup, and dinner rolls. Jesus, however; has relayed to me that he is on the Atkins Diet and would prefer to have a slice of fattened calf, medium rare, with just a schtickle of bitter herb butter.

As I said, after dinner it’s time for games, loud music, and a general state of debauchery. As far as the sleeping arrangements, I’ll let Mother Nature take care of that. This is gonna be one kick ass blow out.

I’ll return Monday with a full report on the highlights and lowlights of the bash. Until then, have a great weekend and Cheers!!

And Now…Our Moment of Hinn

“Benny I wanted to invite you to my party, but Jesus said, “No Way in Hell.””

--Matt-Man

Watch Out, Stalin Has a Hummer...

Holy crap have I been busy. I spent most of last night and this morning making travel arrangements for my guests. It went much more smoothly than I had anticipated. Joe Stalin and Gina Lollobrigida are flying together under the assumed names of Mr. and Mrs. Paul Reubens. Joe laughingly suggested that they use, Mr. and Mrs. Mohammed Atta. I told you Joe was a funny guy.

I offered to pick them up at the airport, but Joe said that he hadn’t driven a car since 1921, “and by godless I’m gonna drive myself.” So I guess he and Gina are renting a Hummer for the weekend. They could have rented a nice sedan, but then I wouldn’t have been able to use “Gina” and “Hummer” in the same sentence, which of course, conjures up all sorts of carnal images in my mind.

I thought President Bush would take care of his own transportation, but it turns out that I have to pick him up at Port Columbus Airport and he’s flying in tomorrow, a day before the party. I asked him, “What’s up with that?” He said that Dick Cheney was coming out of seclusion for the weekend to host a big Halliburton bash in the Hamptons, and that Pork Chop Boy needed Air Force One and all of the limos to get his buddies to the party. That’s fine I thought, but “Why are you coming a day early?”, I asked. He said, “Well Matt-Man, there’s nothing pressing going on in the world right now, so I thought I’d take a couple of days off.” Just then I heard a loud crash, Bush screaming, “God Damn It”, and then he said, “Gotta go, mi amigo. See ya in C’lumbus.” So tomorrow, 1:45 PM, gate 17, I will be standing there holding a sign that says, “W”.

I called Jesus Christ earlier today to see if I needed to pick him up somewhere, but he told me that he would “just show up”. Easy enough.

So now that the travel has been figured out, I must start thinking about what I am going to serve. Appetizers, drinks, entrée, whew….so much to do!! I was thinking that maybe I would cook things based upon the culture of my guests, but that limits me to steak, spaghetti, unleavened bread, and well, quite frankly, dirt and vodka. I do have a heckuva recipe for SPAM Kabobs, but that would be rude to Jesus. Oh, I guess he could wave a hand and change his plate to lamb or manna or something, but I do not want to turn this party into an episode of “The Letterman Show” which features “Stupid Messiah Tricks.”

I will have to give more thought to the menu, the music, and the entertainment. It won’t be easy, but I think I can have all of the details ready for you sometime tomorrow. Well folks off to the grocery and the liquor store. Enjoy the day, and cheers.

And Now…Our Moment of Hinn

“Look, any amount I make, somebody's going to be mad.”

--Benny Hinn

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner...

I would like to have a dinner party this weekend. But not just ANY dinner party, no sirree. I would like to invite people of interest over. People from the past and present to join me in a well served feast and scintillating conversation. If I could have any four people over, who would I like to invite?

Well, I would certainly want to have Jesus Christ at my table. I mean c’mon, how can you NOT invite the Son of God? So many questions to ask him. Like, what does a leper really look like? Tell the truth, you wanted to kick Judas’ ass didn’t ya? Did Mary Magdalene prefer to be on top? And just think, if I play my cards right and impress him, I stand the chance of him turning my kitchen faucet into a perpetual Wild Irish Rose dispenser.

Peace and love are all well and good, but we need some edginess too. Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan, and Ivan the Terrible are all excellent choices, but I think that they lack the humor and sensibilities that I want. So I think I’ll opt for a man that is known to be a bit more of a prankster, Joe Stalin.

Despite what you may THINK you know of him, he was a warm and funny man. He plucked the feathers off of a live bird while laying on his death bed in order to demonstrate leadership to two potential successors. So nice. And when WWII ended, millions of Russians who had been interned by the Germans, gleefully returned home. Taking irony to its ultimate hilarious extent, Stalin considered them traitors and had them killed or sent to Siberia. He even invented the word, “gulag”…ha ha ha, that’s a funny word. Uncle Joe, have a seat my friend.

I’ll have a nice vase of flowers on the table, but the setting wouldn’t be the same without an attractive woman in the mix. Cleopatra?...nothing but a royal whore. Joan of Arc?...pffft she isn’t as hot as she thinks. Marie Curie?...please, I’m not one who can be blinded by science. I want a young curvy Italian beauty. “Gina Lollobrigida, benvenuto, il mio amore.”

Yes, the lovely Gina circa 1955 gorgeous, hot, sexy, and well…I mean…I’m sure she’s smart too. I’ll make certain to sit across from her and constantly drop my fork under the table.

Lastly, since none of these guests are Americans, it would be only fitting to have President Bush present to help me welcome them to my table and our country. Plus I am sure that GW would have a great time. He could talk to Jesus and ask him if his administration’s plan for the apocalypse was going according to scripture. Dubya and Stalin could trade war stories, and tell jokes about civil liberties. By the end of the evening, George would “know his soul”.

Upon introducing Dubya to Ms. Lollobrigida, he would, of course mangle her name, “Mizz Lollo…Lobrigda..er..Labia…Gina? Gina is it? Wow, you’re pretty hot for a dago.” He would keep the dinner conversation at the table going smoothly. Saying things like, “Yo, Hay-Zoos, be the savior of this dry roll and pass me the butter, would ya?” Or, “Hey, Jo-Jo what say you and I go to Moscow and show your boy Putin how to REALLY kick some ass, we’ll take Guy-Na here along with us for kicks. Hey Matt-Man, chop chop, I only have a drop of Rose left in my glass, for Chrissakes!! Sorry, Hay-Zoos.”

Ahhhhh, what fun it will be. If I am going to pull this off by the weekend, I better start planning. I think I’ll be posting party game ideas, music selections, and menu ideas throughout the rest of the week. If you have any ideas please pass them on, and sometime on Friday, you’ll know what the game plan is. Cheers.

And Now…Our Moment of Hinn

Ladies and Gents, George W. Bush:

“I, I couldn't imagine somebody like Osama bin Laden understanding the joy of Hanukkah.”

--George W. Bush