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Michele and Her Guy

I am getting used to the idea of Our Belle, Michele Bachmann, becoming President of the United States.  After all, we have to have somebody!  And she would really like to do it.  


What is taking a little more of getting used to--giving me serious pause, if you want the truth--is having Marcus Bachmann as First . . . Guy, I guess.  


I know he can dance:  I have seen him do that.  And he knows how to take government subsidies.  There is that family farm in Wisconsin that has received about a quarter of a million dollars, and Marcus himself has a little business over in Stillwater that takes some of that barbaric government money to train counselors for his counseling business; you know, the one that prays the gay away when it gets too close.  It is one of those churchy things, about hating the sin but loving the sinner.  You get people who have those strange barbaric urges that almost make you dance, but if you drop to a knee, and pinch the bridge of your nose, and pray really hard you can learn to hate the sinner part of you and love the part that prays it away, and maybe grow up and get a government subsidy, even though government subsidies are sinful, too, unless you put them to a good, godly use, such as farming or hating the gay part of you.  


It might seem to be a kind of therapy that could pretty well screw you up, but Marcus says they only use it if people are in self-denial, and really, really want to become normal, like him and Michele, although Michele, for some odd reason, seems to be uncommonly committed to the notion that if you pinch your nose hard enough, a guy ought to be able to straighten himself out.  


They are going to be a really beautiful First Couple, aren't they?  POTUS and FLOTUS?  


No!  That isn't right, is it?  FGOTUS?  "First Guy Of The United States"?  


I feel a prayer coming on.  It makes my nose sore just thinking about it.
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