It's a big day for Greensboro, North Carolina Congressional candidate, Jay Ovittore.

On the heels of endorsements by the Replacements Ltd. PAC and this morning's Pilot, Democratic hopeful, Ovittore, was endorsed today by the Yellow Dog for President campaign who released the following statement to the press:

"Yellow Dog's memory of Jay Ovittore goes back to the days when she was a puppy and Jay occasionally came over to visit her and her family. Jay was always happy to throw a ball and rub her between her ears. Sometimes he even brought treats.

As a young dog, Yellow Dog enjoyed walking with Jay who taught her the proper way to cross a busy street and was never so irresponsible as to allow her to pull against her leash. He also taught her to fetch, roll over, shake and play dead-- a skill she used masterfully to trick opponents and kill them when serving in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Because of her long personal relationship with Jay Ovittore and the fact that she believes him to be a man of integrity, Yellow Dog is happy to endorse Jay Ovittore for United States Congress."

Jay Ovittore was not available for comment prior to the release of this information.

While meeting with Vice-presidential candidate, Gray D Cat, earlier today, reporters from the Blogsboro Network overheard a canine in the next cubical begging, "Please Mike, give it to me." A quick check of the cubical revealed only the candidog, Yellow Dog, alone and talking to someone on the telephone.

Since her recent endorsement by Mayor Dog of Rabbit Hash, Kentucky, the Yellow Dog campaign has been furiously hunting independent and 3rd party endorsements like the endorsement of the Munger for Governor of North Carolina campaign.

Reporters were then cautioned to remain only within the cubicles in which appointments had been cleared.

By Their Glassy Eyes Shall Ye Know Them

by Duke Amboy

Ordinarily, I don't do TV coverage. If my set is tuned to one of the networks for more than four or five minutes, I'm liable to leap to my feet in a fit of indignant rage and kick the screen in.

It's happened before...

But recently we've been treated to a one-two punch of tele-idiocy that deserves a little recognition.

A month ago, deep in the throes of the South Carolina primary, all three "viable" candidates filmed segments to air on WWE Raw, continuing the process of humiliation and self-abasement we like to call "taking it to the people" - whoever that group of mutant, functionally illiterate and TV-numbed blighted souls might happen to be -  by, say, throwing a gutter ball or getting all teary-eyed and, like, emotional and stuff...

So the kick-ass candidates were forced to deploy labored professional wrasslin' jingo and name-drop folks like the Undertaker. It was pitiful and demoralizing all around, without a doubt.

But leave it to John "Turncoat" McCain to really get down in that pig trough and wallow.

If you've got the stomach, just take a look. Unsurprisingly, McCain bestows on his target demographic the name "McCainiacs." Indeed. From his lips...

You have got to be a raving lunatic to get behind "Judas" McCain.

Fair enough, Big John. There we are in complete agreement...

And then, a few days ago, we were treated to the bizarre spectacle of a Lame Duck making a cameo on a wildly popular prime time game show. Yes, his insipidly idiotic face filling a wall-sized screen like some latter-day Wiz, W. came on to drop this bon mot: "I'm thrilled to be [here] with you tonight. Come to think of it, I'm thrilled to be anywhere with high ratings these days." Indeed, sir. Seems you might have "misunderestimated" the popularity and success of your little War On Terror.

Also, I should point out this little aside in Howie's gushing contestant intro: "Let me just say how impressive you are, not only as someone who's done three tours of duty in Iraq, serving our country - two of which you volunteered to do..."

Hold on. Wait just a mo, there, Howie. This "ultimate American" only volunteered twice. Yet he's got three tours of duty under his belt. I hate to nitpick here, but what about that third tour?

Might it be a little number we like to call "Stop-loss"? So familiar a procedure these days that there's even been a film with that name?

We could ask our redoubtable Commander-in-Chief...

What? He's gone?

Okay. Must be past his bedtime.

I think Nietzsche has this one pegged:

"Blessed are the drowsy, for they shall soon drop off!"

2008 has been the year of racism and prejudice in Presidential politics with all of the better known candidates-- especially the big 3-- turning up skeletons of past relationships with the most divisive figures in American society and it appears the lesser known candidates are in just as deep.

Blogsboro Network reporters are currently answering hundreds of calls from angry voters this morning as news has surfaced that Yellow Dog may have family ties to the notorious EAT (Eat American Teenagers) a pride of dogs and cats who advocate hunting down and eating America's teens as a means to eventually take control of the nation through the devouring of a generation.

While details are sketchy it appears the group's origins go back to North Carolina where Yellow Dog was born and allegedly some of Yellow Dog's closest family members have close ties to EAT with one unidentified caller making the claim that Yellow Dog once shared a kennel with Hercules, an English Mastiff who is said to be the world's largest and hungriest dog.  

The Yellow Dog for President Campaign indicated the candidog is currently unavailable for comment.

John "Turncoat" McCain Denounces The Nation's Capital

by Duke Amboy

"It's harder and harder to do the Lord's work in the city of Satan."

Augustine couldn't've said it better, John Iscariot.

McCain - waving a honey barbecue grilled-chicken sandwich, his mouth half-full, froth flying from his lips -  addressed a congregation (I'm sorry, executive board meeting) at the Chik-fil-A headquarters in Atlanta.

I must confess I wasn't present. (And I'm sure S. Truett is ecstatic I can even bring myself to use those words). I had been detained at the entrance, whisked off by three large men in dark suits and sunglasses - and a man in a cow costume wearing an EAT MOR CHIKIN sign around his neck - and locked into a conveniently empty taste-testing lab on an underground level, where I was forced to sample various menu items - chicken in strip, nugget, fillet, cube and origami swan form - while we were subjected to an audio recording of Dave Ramsey reading from his latest Christian self-help book, Financial Peace for Kids.

By the time Adventures in Odyssey came on, a lesser man would've snapped - caroming around the room, squealing like a greased pig and flinging his feces at the inspirational posters. But, when all is said and done, I remain a professional - committed to nothing more or less than GETTING THE STORY. And I knew - it was fifteen or so floors above.

I threw myself down on the linoleum floor and thrashed around as spasmodically as I could, feigning an epileptic seizure. Without a word, the two goons nodded at each other and left the room. I thought I could hear crying from inside the cow costume. It was now or never.

Jumping up, I threw the cow into a corner and bolted. The hallway was clear but the elevator at the end required a code for access. So I ran back and grabbed the cow.

"What's your name, you fucking shill?" I asked it.

"They call me Bessie," a young man's voice answered. "Please don't hurt me."

"Give me the code and I won't have to mess you up," I told him.  When he finally managed to get out an "I don't know," I could tell by the fear in his voice that he meant it.

"Never mind," I said, "I think I can guess."

It was a shot in the dark but the single digit repeated three times did the trick and soon the elevator arrived. As its doors swished open, I heard running footsteps behind us. Turning and using the cow as a human (bovine?) shield, I shouted, "Hold up, fuckos! One more step and Bessie here's ground Chuck!"

As the doors slid shut, I saw the goons - with three others, practically identical, behind them - crossing themselves and mouthing what I could only guess were prayers. Vengeful, Old Testament prayers.

"The boardroom. What floor?"

"Thirteen," Bessie said.

"Thirteen? You're shitting me.  Building's don't have a thirteenth floor."

"This one does."

And sure enough there was the 13 on the panel. Top floor. Executive suite. I stabbed the button and up we shot.

In less than ten seconds (must've been an express elevator), floor number thirteen lit up in an infernal red and the doors hissed open, revealing a vast boardroom with floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows, gold-encrusted light fixtures and a seemingly endless mahogany table, around which I counted 13 over-padded executive armchairs.  At the head of the table, on a high gold- and gem-encrusted throne, sat S. Truett Cathy, the pontifex of Chik-fil-A. He held a gold shepherd's crook in one had and in the other a flail of some sort, also gold. On his head was a glittering crown in the shape of a crenelated tower.

And, to my amazement, John McCain was kneeling at his feet, as though at worship, fiddling - or so it seemed to me - with something in Cathy's lap. After a moment he stood up, turned to the other executives and wiped some sort of mayonnaise off his chin. He was smiling wolfishly and waving around a laser pointer like a conductor's baton. He had just aimed it at a PowerPoint display on the wall when his eyes met mine.

I could see the initial look of surprise and fear. Then the nearsighted, watery blue eyes narrowed. A phalanx of security goons descended on us from both sides. The jig was just about up.

But before all twenty of them piled into the elevator, I had just enough time to notice what Judas McCain was pointing out:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why, John? Why do you want so desperately to occupy the down-turned tip of the pentagram?

What unspeakable horrors do you hope to perpetrate? What primordial, shambling god do you worship?

And precisely why should we - the American public - EAT MOR CHIKIN?

The People's Choice

by Duke Amboy

That's right, folks. The Duke is back.

I spent about a month wallowing in my own juices - a heinous cocktail of Bushmill's sweat and fouler secretions that I - in the name of public indecency - would be only too happy to mention...

So we're down to three. The field has been not only leveled, it's been carpet-bombed...

The far-right wing of the Rep party has John "Turncoat" McCain's nose so far up their collective shit-chute, I can only hazard a guess as to whose colon his proboscis is even now caressing...

You can only milk the POW teat for so long, Big John. Especially when your fellow inmates at the Hanoi Hilton keep going on record as to what a colossal, collaborationist cocksucker you were.

The Obama Nation - that Biblically multi-headed beast which has recently found its Scarlet Woman (okay, she's black, so sue me) - keeps screeching "Change! Change!" out of each of its orifices. Significant details as to what and how are yet to be forthcoming...

Hill and Bill. The machine rolls on, resistance is futile. Prepare to be assimilated.

Quite frankly, my disgust prevents me from doling out the insightful, nuanced political analysis my reader(s) have come to expect, and I can only hope that I'll be back to my choleric self sometime soon.

Until then, I'd like to leave you with these cheery words:

"The thought of suicide is a great consolation: by means of it one gets successfully through many a bad night." - Friedrich Nietzsche

Presidential candidate, Hillary Clinton has launched a new campaign effort in Yellow Dog's home state of North Carolina but not to be outdone, the dog bites back.

The Clinton Campaign has established a web site that allows voters to post questions online so that Senator Clinton can answer those questions online but when asked about Clinton's latest attack Yellow Dog yawned, waged her tail and asked, "What's the big deal about that? People have been able to ask questions at YellowDog08.com since the day I announced I was running for office. It seems lame to me that bitch, Hillary, is just now getting around to it."

Representatives of the Yellow Dog for President Campaign confirmed that anyone can ask questions for the candidate at YellowDog08.com and the candidog will reply as quickly as possible.

Blogsboro Network reporters were privy last night to video leaked from a secret White house meeting in which President Bush addressed the highest ranking officers of the Republican Party on what must be done to insure a McCain victory in the coming election. "We have to stop that bitch at any cost, before it's too late." The President said in his opening remarks. "If that damned bitch wins she'll give Iraq back to the Iraqis and America back to Americans. Then we'll be lucky if we can keep Texas."



"We could rig the voting machines, " Carl Rove said, "like we did against Kerry and Hair Boy."

"Won't work," The President replied. "Charleston showed us what that dog is capable of and the CIA warned me just today that hundreds of thousands of animals are planning similar attacks. In some states even bears, buffaloes moose and elk are offering to help.

"I could get Chad to help," Secretary Rice gushed. "You know he's got a hard on for me."

"No, that won;t work either. Chad's a looser. Besides, he's working in the cellular phone business doing commercials these days. There's only one way we can stop Yellow Dog and everyone in this room knows what we must..."

"Mister President, That cat's wearing a video camera!"

"Damn right I'm scared."

Those were the words uttered by Senator John McCain in an exclusive interview with the Blogsboro Network just minutes ago. The Arizona Republican Presidential hopeful when on to explain his fears. "Look, I'm in pretty good health but Yellow Dog, she's in her prime and she's a trained killer, special forces, Navy Seal with teeth she plans to grind my ass into hamburger. I don't stand a chance if I have to go up against her. It looks as if I'm going to need Dick Cheney and his shotgun if I'm going to take on Yellow Dog"



The McCain campaign has been scrambling all week to keep the former POW out of harm's away amid rumors that Presidential candidog, Yellow Dog, has vowed to turn the aging senator into a chew toy.

The Yellow Dog for President campaign would neither confirm or deny the allegations, leaving reporters to speculate as to what she actually meant when she was seen barking and growling at the Senator's campaign bus early this morning.

The candidate was furious over the recent attacks by the Clinton campaign, so furious in-fact that she drew blood when they met this afternoon. The following photo is a Blogsboro Network exclusive of Ms Yellow Dog biting Mrs Clinton's buttocks.




The Clinton campaign never returned our calls to establish Mrs Clinton's position though it's reasonably certain it won't be sitting down.