I mean, really. Let’s look at some of the alleged improper expenses from February:

• $17,000 for private jet travel
• $13,000 for limousines
• $30,500 for top flight hotels
• $43,000 for a midwinter meeting in Hawaii
• And my personal favorite: $2,000 at a bondage-themed topless club

I ask again — what’s the problem? Are RNC staffers supposed to walk from fundraiser to fundraiser, or travel in something akin to the Madden Cruiser? And where are they supposed to stay while drumming up support? Perhaps on the street? I have no doubt that such a sight would make the socialist opposition howl with laughter, but it’s hardly good for business.

As to the last item… we’re Republicans, not Jehovah’s Witnesses. We’re no more afraid of the sight of naked woman flesh than we are of Obama’s chances of a second term. Not to mention that two grand is a drop in the bucket. That’s what, 50 lap dances? Maybe twice that at a cheap establishment? And I can assure you that the club in question, Voyeur West Hollywood, is top of the line in every respect.

All in all, it sounds like money well spent to me. In fact, I’m going to send the RNC a very generous check as soon as I finish this post. With “titty clubs” written in bold letters in the “For:” line, no less. Have fun at your next church basement pancake fundraiser, you liberal twits.

The point is, you’re probably up to speed on the in-party challenge that maverick G.O.P. senator John McCain is facing in Arizona, courtesy of Christian Talibaner J.D. Hayworth. Furthermore, you’re no doubt aware that Macca recently brought in some big names to stump for him, including Mitt Romney, Fred Thompson and Jeb Bush, and that he’s working on deals with the unstoppable one-two punch of Hank Williams, Jr. and Ted Nugent.

Well, as of this morning, you can add one more name to that illustrious list: Oswald Jameson Carver III. The senator has enlisted my aid, and I’ll be heading to the Grand Canyon State tomorrow morning to help him drum up some votes.

Not that I have any real affection for the old buzzard — losing G.O.P. presidential candidates make me sick to my considerable stomach. Especially when they get beat by Kenyan-born socialist dictators. But he and my late father were longtime drinking buddies, so I suppose I feel some sense of family obligation in that regard. It doesn’t hurt that he’s flying me down on a private jet and paying a very handsome “speaking fee,” either.

Anyhow, I’ll try to update from the road, but don’t count on it. I tend to forget myself when I’m out of town, and this might be my last chance to take care of one of the final items on my bucket list: stomping the living shit out of notorious Hells Angels poster child Ralph “Sonny” Barger, who apparently resides in Cave Creek. We’ll see.

You know what these people had in common? No, it’s not that they were batshit insane. No, it’s not that they were lesbians (though I assume Rand was). And no, to the best of my knowledge they were not in the Ku Klux Klan.

Their common bond? They all invested heavily in gold. And if they were alive today, I’m sure they would join myself and fellow conservative icon Glenn Beck in recommending that you buy your gold from the trustworthy, stalwart Americans at Goldline International.

Why gold, you ask? What are you, stupid? Are you to tell me that you haven’t noticed that the White House has been usurped by a Kenyan-born communist who plans to socialize all private industry, so as to throw our once proud nation into a state of civil war? And that, even as I type, Islamic terrorists and the Red Chinese may very well be plotting a joint invasion of our spacious skies, amber waves of grain, and purple mountain majesties? If not, then I assume you’re either a liberal or in a coma, and therefore not worth my time.

When the hammer comes down — and it will! — how much do you think your paper money, or your stocks, or your “priceless” collection of vintage comic books are going to be worth? I’ll tell you what: not a goddamn cent. Which is why smart investors are climbing all over each other for the chance to add real gold from Goldline International to their portfolio. And by “portfolio,” I mean stockpiled in the bomb shelter between a case of Cheez Whiz and the gas masks. Because only a moron would trust socialized Obama banks.

So stop being stupid, stop being un-American, and call Goldline International at 1-877-376-2646 today for your free investor kit. And be sure to tell them Oswald Carver sent you. It won’t get you any special discount, but they might start paying me for my endorsement if enough people mention my name. Call today!

First, a bit of background. Like most red-blooded G.O.P. males, I have an immense, boner-popping crush on the woman who shall surely be America’s 45th president: former Alaskan Governor Sarah Palin. Talk about the complete package — taut buttocks, pillowy breasts, seductive smile, whorish wink, and a hatred for the liberal agenda that knows no equal. And those glasses. God, how I long to splash those things with…

Ahem. Got a little out of control there. Anyhow, it turns out that the Emporium was able to track down not one, but two Sarah Palin impersonators for my entertainment, and they should be here any minute. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to gobble down a large dose of Viagra.

Not that I’m afraid I won’t be able to perform without it, mind you. I just want to make sure that both of those beauties go home feeling as if they’ve given birth to little retarded babies of their own. Ciao.

Don’t get me wrong; I hate the middle class. Absolutely despise them. They’re dirty, uneducated, have horrible taste, and invariably smell bad. But they are good for two things: being easily duped on election day, and a willingness to work their entire lives for men like me, only to wind up with nothing while I retire on the lap of luxury.

I’ll tell you one thing, though — those middle class kids are the spitting image of Yule, mustache and all. No wonder he gave them his house. Yule always was a big softie