Neuter Gangrenitch Does Not Do that!

Peepul, I am sick and tired of hearing the same old stories wherever I go; that Mr. Gangrenitch has a few prickadildoes. The time has come for the rumors to stop. Wherever I go, whether it be here or there, in a house or with a mouse, with a fox or in a box, I constantly hear the same stories: that Mr. Gangrenitch enjoys being undressed by a dishonorably discharged serviceman before being scrunched into the fetal position, and tied up by numerous lengths of shoestrings bow-tied together, then tongue laps at a just out of reach thingamabob (the object differs from place to place, story to story) while bellowing repeatedly, “Estuary Espana! Alla lala Potntot!”

I am infuriated by such stories. And I am ashamed of those Tea Partiers who refuse to repudiate such lies. With rumors such as these circulating the globe by word of mouth and print media, could it be that Tea Partiers are so afraid of the piss and vinegar they might receive from the Left that they dare not stand up for their beloved Neuter? The time has come to stop dancing around, to come to the trough and let it out. If Neuter Gangrenitch cannot depend on the Tea Party; then I will be his depends, so to speak.

In defense of Mr. Neuter Gangrenitch:

Peepul, Mr. Gangrenitch could easily extricate himself from a series of tied-together shoelaces, particularly if each of them were bow-tied. One should do the math before recounting such stories. Although I have not personally met the man, by all accounts Mr. Gangrenitch is approximately four feet eleven inches tall and weighs somewhere in the vicinity of two-hundred and eighty pounds (give or take a bowel movement). Should that dishonorably discharged serviceman (who has yet to reveal himself, I might add!) scrunch Mr. Gangrenitch into the fetal position, he would find himself positioning the thingamabob (sometimes it is a dildo, other times it’s just a lollipop, often it’s nothing more than a braunschweiger sandwich on light rye with a pinch of mustard and salt for taste, unhealthy for a man more than a tad overweight. [Please Mr. Gangrenitch. Lay off the salt; it’s a fluid retention product that can lead to gout.] just out of reach of a ball having a circumference of approximately six feet, i.e. Mr. Gangrenitch.

Now it should be obvious to anyone that such an object would have a propensity to roll. And with Mr. Gangrenitch lapping enthusiastically, if not paroxysmally, at the thingamabob the knots would certainly be loosened, thus ending the game as prematurely as a teenboy- having -circumvented –his-parent’s- Internet’s-preference’s masturbatory climax.
In so doing, Mr. Gangrenitch’s desire to bellow while restrained would never be fulfilled and his supposedly beloved cry, “Estuary Espana! Alla lala Potntot!” would actually never come to pass!!!

Therefore, I implore the Tea Partiers to rise to Mr. Gangrenitch’s defense. Do not let these stories continue to dominate the news. Are we not sick and tired of those godless left-wing radicals usurping the media with tales of Neuter’s prickadildoes? It is we who have God on our side. In fact, we downright own the rights to Him. So to hell with the Left and their lies. Let’s hope they burn in a nuclear firestorm and their children suffer genetic carnage that will mutate their progeny into babbling infantile slaves over which we can slather and drool for generations to come. So in the name of love, please join me in reciting that most famous of all prayers, the Lord’s Comeuppancer:

Oh Lord, silence the lies of our heathen enemies by burning them in hell-fire, yet keep them alive to suffer the pangs of Your wrath, but make sure it’s hot, really really hot—and cold, too, really really cold, and stick burning cold rods through their eye sockets, but don’t take away their sight so they can watch You mutate their children into things that we can do with whatever we want , but don’t You watch us do those thing--only them, and then wash us clean with your Divine Wand by showering us in a golden rain.

Amen

Peepul, stay tuned for further evidence of Neuter’s not enjoying being undressed by a dishonorably discharged serviceman before being locked into the fetal position by numerous lengths of shoestrings bow-tied together, then tongue-lapping at a just out of reach thingamabob while bellowing repeatedly, “Estuary Espana! Alla lala Potntot!”