Saturday, October 13, 2007

“I Am Rubber, You Are...He-e-e-e-eey, This Feels Pretty Niiiiice...”

“I mean...really, REALLY NICE!”

You almost...almost want to feel bad for our “friends” on the right these days, as every glorious sunrise for most folks brings a blistering, painful sunburn for them. If it ain't Gonzo lawyering up, it's Rudy's cat-around buddy Kerik on the verge of being “maytagged” by folks he locked up while NY Police Commissioner, or former Bush right-hand man Dan Bartlett caught on tape at a GOP slumber party reading from his double-secret, J-Pod fur-clad slam book.

And then, a story comes down the pike that...well, just entertains on a level that no extra-slow dance with a Jessica Biel look-alike named Schadenfreude ever could.

We've hinted at this sordid tale of “Whoa!” for the last couple of days, but was too good not to deal with directly, so here goes. The supple, yet taut as a rubber ball-gag story, via the fine folks at Sadly, No!:

Police have closed their investigation into the death of the Rev. Gary Aldridge.

Detectives determined that no foul play existed in the case and therefore no crime had been committed, according to a news release from the Montgomery Police Department.

Aldridge, 51, was found dead inside his home about 10 a.m. June 24. He had served as pastor of Thorington Road Baptist Church since 1991. Forensic results indicate Aldridge was alone at the time of his death, the police release states. A report by the Alabama Department of Forensic Sciences states the final pathological diagnoses for Aldridge’s death as “accidental mechanical asphyxia,” according to the release.


S,N!: “Well, that’s sort of a polite way to put it. In fact, here are some relevant details on the death of Aldridge, a Liberty University graduate and former Jerry Falwell employee:”


An Alabama minister who died in June of “accidental mechanical asphyxia” was found hogtied and wearing two complete wet suits, including a face mask, diving gloves and slippers, rubberized underwear, and a head mask, according to an autopsy report....

While the Montgomery Advertiser, which first obtained the autopsy records, reported on Aldridge’s two wet suits, the family newspaper chose not to mention what police discovered inside the minister’s rubber briefs.

S,N!: “Because, okay, you totally don’t even have to click that link, either.”

But you should click on that link...and you should read the Sadly, No! comment thread, because it's just one of the funniest audience-participation continuations of a blog post you will ever see. Get Windex and paper towels ready for your soon-to-be spittle-flecked computer screen.

And because it mocks the holy hell out of wingnut sexual hypocrisy—gone horribly, embarrassingly awry.

So in tribute to the late, rubberized Reverend McBoing-Boing, and his strangely silent supporters on the right, we give you this ditty—a bouncy (like, uh...rubber or something) number—sung to the tune of Frank Sinatra's High Hopes.

(...with apologies to Sammy Cahn and Jimmy Van Heusen)

Next time you're found, splayed out on the ground...
Dead as a doornail, as questions a-bound...

What made that Republi-can,
Think he could pull off that rubber-suit plan?
Anyone knows a man, can't
Put on two rubber-suits, man!

'Cause he's got ti-iiiight ropes. He's got tight ropes.
Hes got tight, and hog-tied, freak-da-fiiiiied ropes.

So “jimmy-hat” your old dil-do,
Lube the ol' cornhole,
Do what single-jointed folks can't...
Oops, there goes the double-rubber suit plan.
(Oops, there goes the double-rubber suit plan.)
Oops, there goes the double-rubber suit plan.

When troubles call, and you're cuffed to the wall,
There a lot to be learned, that wall could fall.

Once there was a silly wingnut man,
Choked himself for kicks, that was his plan.
Til' he goofed, and gagged, damn!
It was the end of that man!

'Cause he had ti-iiiight ropes. He had tight ropes.
He had tight, and hog-tied, freak-da-fiiiiied ropes.

Don't sweat the dull sex you've had,
Things could really be bad.
Just remember that man,
Oops, there goes the double-rubber suit plan!
(Oops, there goes the double-rubber suit plan.)
Oops, there goes the double-rubber suit plan.

Thank God for sex jejune,
Freaky stuff'll make you swoon,
But race your heart till it stops! (Stops!)
Oops, there goes another wingnut—ker-plop!
(Oops, there goes another wingnut—ker-plop!)
Oops, there goes another wingnut—ker-plop!