Monroe County, Georgia (Whistle Stop Cafe) – via TeleType – Croshondola, still reeling from the cocaine-addled orgy that was the first Republican Debait-and-Switch in Ohio, woke to find herself ass-up and face-down in a pile of Cris Crispy Crisps. She had come here looking for a true Southern candidate, only to remember one Greyhound trip too late that Bobby Jingle-Jangles was from Louisiana, not Georgia. Instead, all she found was some old bitch in a nursing home who wouldn’t shut up about the past and offering her “donuts to boot.”
“Jindaling,” Croshondola thought, sounded like a verb for describing a quivering sensation the testicles experience in a moment of panic, such as where there is a fear of Republicans taking over the cuntry. “My bawls are jindling,”
Croshondola said aloud to no one at all, alone in an abandoned, decrepit cafe, as she marveled at how the Manhole View had rekindled her career as a field journalist on the presidential primary beat, rumors of her being heralded the Drag Queen’s Hunter S. Thompson percolating throughout the Belt Way, or so she had heard. Croshondola saw herself more in the mold of a fey Carl Bernstein, but she would take what she could get at this juncture in her life!
Like every good also-ran on the cable TV show known as Republican Idol, the Bobster’s sur-name had come to be affiliated with a less than presidential synonym; he was the Santorum of this campaign season. Croshondola queeried how the Bobster could transcend his Gomer Pyle-like appearance and mannerisms, and unfortunate last name, and become a thing of true greatness, like Obama.
Croshhonolda looked at a squib from the Bobster’s website, which read:
“. . . conventional wisdom in Washington holds that [Obamacare] cannot be fully repealed. I couldn’t disagree more. A country that won two world wars and landed a man on the moon can surely eradicate this attack on our health care system.”
Croshondola slapped herself, thinking the Bill Cosbies she took the night before had erred her reading comprehension. Was it true; that the Bobster was equating the defeat of the greatest extension of basic health necessities to the working class in American history to landing a man on the moon? Croshondola didn’t know it was possible to be this stupid and run for President. Paradoxically, Bobby Jindal was right, this is a cuntry where anybody can do anything.
Croshondola’s balls were Jindling over the fact that she had just squandered the last of the per diem with nothing to show for it, and read further down the Bobholeview to generate more clitbait content for the ManholeView.
She looked for her favorite topic, “the gays” and found NOTHING on the Bobholeview.
Croshondola scratched her wig, wondering why the Bobholeview had no gay content whatsoever, even though he was quoted as saying after the gay SCROTUS decision that we should, and Croshondola quoted,
“just get rid of” the SCROTUS.
It was curious. It was well known that Jindles had begun experimenting with Christianity during his high school days. Perhaps, just perhaps, Croshondola thought, Jindal himself was Jindling over the gay marriage issue. Perhaps his balls had retreated.
He shouted “gay panic” on the radio shows, and on his own website, mums the word!
Croshondola, believing that she had just solved a mystery, considered her per diem well earned, and asked Dana@TPV when will the next per diem be wired so she can get the fuck out of Georgia?
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By CROSHONDOLA: Fear and Loathing in the Manhole – Jindling all the Way
