Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader remembered that tonight was national drunk blogging night or some such beastie. So he got an early start on it. You know that in addition to it being national drunk bloging night it is also Guy Fawkes day. it also happens to be your Maximon Leader’s sainted fathers birthday. So we got the whole villainous family into the truck and went to have lunch with my dad.

That was where the drinking began. I had a beer with lunch. It was a stout. It was homebrewed at the place we ate. I think the place was called Sweet Water Inn or somthing. Your Maximum Leader’s father likes it a lot - hence why we went.

Anyhow. We treked home after lunch and your Maximum Leader waited a little bit before really pouring it on. According to his superlative swiss chronometr writswatch the time is now about 6:45. Your Maximum Leader has been drinking Knob Creek bourbon since about 3:30. That isn’t completely true. He did start off the night (or is it afternoon) with a shot of wild Turkey Rare Breed. That stuff is potent. Something like 110 proof or something.

So three hours later and your maximum Leader is still able to type reasonably well. He’s been pouring himself drinks in a large skull shaped plastic cup. ONe of the girls got it at the club halloween party last week. It sort of freaks her out to look at so I’ve approprated it for drinking tonight. The cup is about 7 inches high and must hold at least one can os soda in it. Well slightly more than one can of soda actually. I started with filling the cup from with bourbon just up to the level of the bottom row of teeth on the skull. That was the first drink. By about the thrid or fourth I think i’ve been filling the cup with bourbon to the bottom of the nos hole. AFter the bourbon has come the coke. Coca-cola taht is - not coccaine. Heh. (Taht will probably be a lot less funny tomorrow than it seems right now. Which I take as a sign that I must not be drunk enough.)

YOur Maximum Leader has forgotten how many drinks he’s actually had. But mywife is looking at me funny so I have to think that it has been a lot. I’ve now cloistered myself in my office with the computer. I also have my bottle of bourbon and a six pack of coke and a thing of ice. And my skull cup.

I supose the purpose of this is to write what migth be going through your mind. Frankly my mind is filled with all sorts of crap I’d like to blog about.

I’ll pour myself another and continue int he extended part. If you’ve had enough

CArry on.

So… I’ve been thinking about this whole Plame thing with Scooter whatshisface. I’d try and link to Professor leopold Stotch’s recent post if I could. But I’m not going to screw around with multiple open windows at once. I think the good professor sort of mirrors my own opinion. I think I’ve said before that the whole office of special prosecutor is an abomination against our republic. They are unaccountable legal thugs with unlimited money and no oversight. I think it is telling taht the indictments are all about lying or at least giving misleading information during the investigation. The crime for which everyone is yelling for blood is the one that no one will be charged with. Outing Wilsons wife was not a breach of the National Security Act of 1982. And I don’t think anyone will be charged with that crime. As for lying or misleading. That too is a crime and if scooter did it he should be punished. But at what point do we ask ourselves that we’ve had enough? A prosecutor has worked for two years on an investigation to see if there was a serious national security breach and all he comes up with is someone didn’t come clean with him about who said what to whom and when? This is as bad as Ken Starr.

Some of my good Republican readers might be thinking what the hell is my Maximum Leader thinking - Ken Starr was going after that nasty Clinton fellow? Look. I didn’t care for Bill Clinton as president. I din’t vote for him. I don’t think he was great, but he wasn’t as bad as he could have been. Is lying under oath in a sworn deposition before a judge a bad thing? Yup. Did he deserve what was coming to him for doing it? Sure he did. But what the hell. Ken Starr was supposed to be investigating the firing of White House employees or something. Next thing you know it is all about real estate, law firm records, and wide-eyed interns dribbling the President’s semen onto a cocktail dress. How the hell did that happen? It happened because special prosecutors aren’t accountable to anyone and they just sit out there lurking. Then one day when they realize they’ve been in business for two years and spent $20 million of taxpayer money they wake up and say “Damn, i’d better convict someone of something or I’m gonna loose my prosecutor card.”

Oh… Don’t get me started on Lawrence Walsh or that guy who investigated Cisneros. Those are soem assholes I’d like to see fall into a great dark hole in the earth.

Anyway… This whole special prosecutor thing is bad. If you want an investigation - get the justice department to do it. If they can’t get some special congressional committee to do it. That way it stays accontable to someone. If we are going to continue the way we have I suggest they just appoint a special prosecutor the day after inaguration day to start investigating the president. That way we know what we’re in for.

Well… That is about all I have to say about that. Damn… Wasn’t that a line from Forrest Gump? Now your Maximum Leader is a drunk blogging retard. Only I’m not heavily invested in the shrimp industry and I’m not going to father a child with Robin Wright. You know… Robin Wright was pretty damned sexy until she went and married that Sean Penn fellow. Then she became a raving looney. Of couse, she may ahve been a raving looney before and just blossomed under Sean’s tender care.

You know what else I’ve been thinking about dear minions. Fake boobs. Yup. This woman I know went on a little vacation and came back with more than just photos of how beautiful the arizona desert is in September. Here is a woman who was quite attractive, happily married (as far as I know), and seemingly content with herself. Until last week I haven’t seen her since earlier in the summer. When I saw her this week I knew soemthing was up, but I couldn’t put my finger on the change. So to speak. I asked around and discovered that it seems she wasn’t happy with her great figure and charming personality. She was very self conscious because she was flat as a prepubescent boy. Suddenly she is off for a three week vacation in Scotsdale and comes back with a nice, but not showy, rack. She probably went from nothing to a medium sized B cup. So she now has tits and can fill out the top of a dress.

So now I’m sitting here thinking why not just go all the way and get a set of honkin hooters. Somthing Pam Anderson would be seen about town wearing. If you’re not getting boob to reconstruct after cancer or something, but you are getting boobs to impress why not be really impressive? You know. Splurge a little.

I have to admit I after I realized I had been looking at the fake boobies I wanted to ask if I could touch them. I’ve never felt a fake boob before. Well taht isn’t really true. I’ve not touched a fake boob in a woman before. I used to work iwth a woman who used to work for one of the companies that makes fake boobs. Darci, my friend, had a whole bunch of implants. She kept them in her freezer as ice packs for when she got headaches. She gave me one. I had it for many years. I kept it in my freezer as an ice pack in case of headaches too. Then it got punctured when I moved from VA Beach to Fredericksburg. So that was where I’ve felt an implant. I suppose I’ll never actually feel an implant thats been implanted. unless the contact is incidental or accidental. My lovely wife isn’t likely to give me a research pass on this subject.

Well… I think Im’ done. My mind is officially empty now. Well it is actually filled with all sorts of obsene thougths now that i have been thinking abaout fake boobs.

I think I am going to sign off and play some Medeival total War now.

Carry on.