The Rude Pundit Is A Golden God

Oh, baby, baby, baby, right there:

You know what? If Karl Rove is ever put into a cell, the Rude Pundit doesn’t want it to be with some three-strikes-and-yer-out, beefed-up Texas drug mule who needs some flabby cheeks to call his own. No, the Rude Pundit wants the slime-covered skeleton of Lee Atwater thrown in there with Rove. He wants Rove to have to stare, endlessly, into those empty cavities where eyes once were, smelling the fecund dirt scent, the foul and everlasting odor of rot and decay. Just to let him know that he, too, shall pass.

And then the ghost of LBJ can come in and kick both their asses.