Archive for ‘Jason Mattera’

July 17, 2009

‘Buying a ticket to see Bruno is paying money to grieve God’s heart’

So says Suzanna Logan, whose summer seems sincerely dedicated to repairing her own heart. As much as she joked about “Big Sexy,” it was in that laugh-to-keep-from-crying way. Or maybe that laugh-to-keep-from-hunting-him-down-like-a-dog-in-need-of-“fixing” way.

Hard to tell sometimes, y’know? Anyway, it’s all my fault. I played matchmaker between Clever S. and the Unwise Latino — hey, who you callin’ racist? — and the unfortunate consequences have grieved my heart.

A smart reporter never burns his sources, so if Big Sexy had called me the other night and, after we had discussed business, we discussed other things . . . well, Your Honor, when a professional journalist speaks hypothetically, that one little word “if” is his Get Out Of Jail Free card.

Nevertheless, there are no accidents, and Miss Logan lost an hour of sleep because she felt compelled to write this:

I’m living what I’m talking. I have an intimate understanding of what pursing God and holiness with all you’ve got can do to a person’s life: It can 180 your direction. I’m living proof. . . .
Of course, I’ll never know who reads this or what they choose to do. But God will. And, in the end, that’s all that really matters.

Just an accident that at 3:20 a.m. ET, somebody clicked through from her site to mine. Just an accident I was checking my SiteMeter before going to bed myself. All of it, you see, entirely accidental.

BTW, Logan: You threw away your gangster movies? Please tell me you didn’t throw away any classic ’40s/’50s noir. Classic noir is . . . it’s like the Parable of the Double-Crossed Palooka, see?

14. And in the Land of the Angels was a dame,
15. Whom the magistrate did accuse of murder,
16. For she had been seen in an inn, taking strong drink with a certain official,
17. Whose wife she was not;
18. And, lo, it came to pass that this high-society character was ventilated with numerous slugs, .44 in caliber,
19. Which the coroner did retrieve after the mortal remains of the departed soul were found upon the shore of the sea called Pacific, nearby the town of Malibu;
20. Straightway the dame was taken to the hoosegow, where the law of that land said she must be allowed to make one phone call;
21. It was a Thursday, and behind a glass door marked with his name, a certain detective reclined in his chair;
22. Though he spake not, yet his voice was heard, as he told the tale in tones jaded, bitter, cynical;
23. Yet all the while asleep, and on his desk was a writing of the Tribune, which in large letters declared:
24. CONGRESSMAN FOUND DEAD; POLICE ARREST ACTRESS HIGHPOINT AFTER HOTEL TRYST; GRIEVING WIDOW MOURNS HEIR TO DAVENPORT OIL FORTUNE.
25. The phone rang and the detective’s secretary, who was some dish herself, answered saying, Axelrod Detective Agency.
26. That’s me, said the voice of the detective who spake while sleeping, and he saith:
27. It ain’t much of a livin’ but at least it’s honest most of the time,
28. Instead of working downtown with those crummy double-crossers.
29. Cops, crooks, sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference in this town.
30. So now I’m solo, a private detective.
31. Sounds exciting to some people, but it’s mostly cheating husbands and deadbeat chislers.
32. Small-time stuff.
33. Then the secretary walked in and saith to Axelrod:
34. Hey, Mike. We got a live one on the line. Want me to tranfer it?
35. Sure, Betty, saith Mike, lighting a Chesterfield
36. Before picking up the phone, and
37. Lo, the screen did split, so that the dame was beheld also on the phone, downtown in the hoosegow.
38. Axelrod. What can I do for you? he saith.
39. Mister Axelrod, saith the dame, sorely distressed, I – I – I didn’t do it. I’m innocent — innocent, I tell ya! Jeff and me — I mean, Congressman Davenport — well, it wasn’t what it looked like —
40. Whoa! said the detective. Hold on there a minute, lady!
41. Slow down a sec, sweetheart. I don’t even know your name yet.
42. And the dame, who was a blonde, saith:
43. Oh. I’m — I’m sorry, it’s just that — well, my name is Veronica Highpoint.
44. And a trumpet did sound, and again was heard the voice of the detective, though he did speak not, saying:
45. Veronica Highpoint, big star.
46. Or that’s what they said a couple of years ago, until the gossip columns started in on her and the studio dropped her contract.
47. A dame like that, said the voice of the detective who spake not, but he stopped and saith aloud:
48. So how did you get my number?
49. Jeff — I mean, Congressman Davenport gave it to me, saith the dame Veronica;

50. He said it was important, and if anything ever happened to him . . .

But nobody’s paying me to write this stuff, see? I’m a professional and Logan hasn’t hit my tip jar lately, so this little saga of the drop-dead blonde and the hard-luck gumshoe will have to wait for another day. Today, there’s important business in D.C., and I’ve got to get some sleep. But there are no accidents.

May 9, 2009

Could Cynthia Yockey double her chances for a date on Saturday night?

Why am I so neglectful toward the ladies? Ask my beautiful wife, who has put up with my horrible thoughtlessness for 20 years.

Or ask lesbian blogger Cynthia Yockey, who catapulted me to irresistibility. (Cynthia is pictured here with Jason “Big Sexy” Mattera, who is obviously trying to make someone jealous.)

Cynthia and I met at CPAC and began what I thought to be a strictly platonic friendship. After all, I am happily married and she’s playing for the other team. We were just a couple of conservative bloggers, trying to advocate on issues, increase our traffic and make a gazillion dollars. What could possibly be wrong? How could anyone even suggest . . .?

But you know what? She sure likes big wieners. NTTAWWT. (She’s even got a photo of somebody with a big wiener in their mouth.)

Could it be that, in fact, Cynthia is a hetero hottie trapped in a lesbian’s body? Stranger things have happened, you know. Meghan McCain recently turned a guy gay.

As a matter of fact, Cynthia once expressed interest in a guy from Ohio, but he broke her heart. So I’m thinking that Cynthia is bisexual.

Back when I was kid, I thought that word meant you’d ride your bicycle over to a girl’s house and . . . well, anyway. When I tried that, the girl told me that yes, as a matter of fact, I was bisexual, because the only way I’d ever get it was if I paid for it. (Buy-sexual, get it?)

Later on, as I got older, I thought that “bisexual” meant when it was so good, you wanted to do it twice, but before I ever got to that, I spent a few years being trisexual. I kept trying, but wasn’t getting sexual. (Try-sexual.)

Finally, however, somebody explained to me the real meaning bisexual. They said the great thing about being bisexual was, it doubled your chances for a date on Saturday night. Unfortunately, that wasn’t much help to me, since two times zero is still zero.

So I got married. Now we’ve got six kids. My wife tells me that this means at least one of us has had sex a few times.

I support abstinence education. The way I look at it, if young people don’t learn to do without sex before they’re married . . .

Cynthia is in favor of same-sex marriage. I think that must be where you have a lot of sex, but it’s always the same. I believe in traditional marriage, which isn’t like that at all.

In a traditional marriage, you have Republican sex, which is the kind that begins with “I do” and ends with “till death do you part.” My wife says if I keep telling these dumb jokes, the “death do you part” might be sooner than I expect.

But the main thing is, go over to Cynthia’s site, where she can show you that big wiener.

UPDATE: Obi’s Sister has car-lust for a Camaro. Driven by a guy with a mullet, no doubt.

March 20, 2009

Ever wonder why the letters ‘O,’ ‘M’ and ‘G’ were invented?

She is strictly neutral and objective and therefore offers herself as an impartial referee in the Jello wrestling catfight grudge match, The Fight for Big Sexy. Yeah, I know, life is like a box of chocolates but — Holy Cthulhu! — I never thought it would come to this . . .

March 20, 2009

Another amazing alumni success story from The Other McCain School of Blogging

Not only did one of my clients get more than 8,000 hits in just her first 15 days of blogging, but she also finally got Big Sexy to send her that box of Godiva chocolate:

Everybody give her a Rule 2. Yes, that includes you, Monique. You can get your revenge in the Jello wrestling match later.

March 11, 2009

Something tells me . . .

. . . . that the next meeting of the Patrick Henry College alumni association is going to be very interesting.

Dude. If only you’d bought her the Godivas.

March 9, 2009

‘Big Sexy’ vs. Charles Rangel

Jason Mattera confronts the Most Ethical Democrat Evah, eliciting the carefully argued response: “Why don’t you mind your goddamned business?”

BTW, both Moe Unique Hits and Clever S. Logan are in love with Mattera, whom Logan nicknamed “Big Sexy.” A couple of years ago, I jokingly suggested to Big Sexy that he should marry Moe and, when he refused to act on my suggestion — I was joking, but Moe really was in love with the boy — I sicced Logan on him, so he would know how a broken heart feels. I’m evil like that.

Then I introduced Moe to Logan, and got them both into blogging, and now Big Sexy is mad at me, alleging that I broke the Guy Code. I’m evil like that, too. But really, Jason, man, it’s for your own good. Until you send Logan that box of Godiva chocolates you promised, you’re in that zone of injustice where you’re not allowed to invoke the Guy Code.

UPDATE: Jason Mattera is a racist who hates Asians (as I’m sure Michelle Malkin would gladly testify.)

March 4, 2009

Jason Mattera defends Rush Limbaugh

On CNN, via Young America’s Foundation:

I love how Jason calls out Frank Schaeffer, who responds that “Rush Limbaugh is to the conservative movement what Jabba the Hut was to the ‘Star Wars’ movies.”

Oh. Ha, ha, ha. Now I get it. A fat joke. Wow, that is so erudite and sophisticated.