Donkey O.G. brings the heat

My initial interest over the bareknuckle brawl between Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama for the Democratic presidential nod has more recently—and by "recently" I mean several fucking months ago—transformed to total burnout. No selection process should take this long. I don’t care if your choosing the best way to euthanize your pet or the proper medication to tame those gargantuan-sized hemmorhoids dangling from your rectum, eventually, a decision needs to be made. However, the past several weeks have been yielding some slightly entertaining campaign-trail bloopers (i.e. Clinton’s “I dodged sniper fire in Bosnia” comment, Obama calling PA working folks bitter and gun crazy, etc.), which helps to break up the monotony of hearing the same blindingly dull commentary from pundits.

More bloopers ensued yesterday during a Clinton campaign rally in downtown Pittsburgh (see video). Just as Bill Clinton was being introduced by County Executive Dan Onorato, Catherine Baker Knoll, Pennsylvania’s cadaver-esque Lt. Governor, snatched the mic from Mr. Ono’s meaty paws and ripped Mayor Ravenstahl and the county exec a pair of matching pucker holes.

"They never recognize the lieutenant governor,” Knoll squawked, sounding a bit like she'd just rolled out of the corner pub. “These two men can't stand women. You know what? I have loafed with this president and with Hillary and their beautiful daughter Chelsea for 25 years. That's long before he was the governor—that's governor of Arkansas."

Oh snap, get your "loaf on" Catherine "Breaker Breaker" Knoll. I don't know what the hell her, "I have loafed..." comment means, but I get the impression Knoll is down for life with the Clintons. I'm envisioning her and Bill Clinton sitting on a corner stoop in Little Rock, circa 1973, just chillin' with a sixer of Miller High Life and listening to "Freebird" on a ratty transistor radio. Bill's got cut-off jeans shorts on (white pockets peekin' out), a black mesh half-tank, and tube socks taller than a garden gnome; Knoll's kickin' it in a halter top and some tight-ass worn-in Levi's. Neighborhood heads bump knuckles with the duo as they pass by. Next thing you know, Hills rolls up in an El Camino, sporting a pair of mirrored aviator shades and puffing on a Newport. She pounds on the roof with the palm of her hand and motions for B and Kno-Kno to jump in the back. Hills peels out, gravel spitting from the bald back tires as she cranks up the volume on the stereo.

That's when dems was dems.