Dear Doogie

 

I feel I need to address the egregious lack of respect I am shown in your scathing yet hauntingly brilliant columns. It’s Hillary this, Hillary that, but except for my Luscious Lone Star Lovelies I am never mentioned.

 
Luscious Lone Star Lovelies

 

It is true that compared to Hillary Clinton I am a babe, but then again so was Dewitt Clinton.  I am also every bit as smart as that pseudo New Yorker fish fancier.

 

Fish Fancier

 

I have everything she has, except for a penis and an asshole husband. Speaking of Bill, he lied when it came to that “only oral” sex crap. If Oval Office Oral was all he received from that guppy-lipped oven stuffer, why did it take me half the first term to get the smell out of the White House?  It was an unsavory blend of wet cigars and warm haddock that lingered in those hallowed halls.

 

Smell Lingered

 

Then again maybe the smell was from Hilary’s lady guests who were invited only to Pamper the First Scamper.

 

The First Scamper

 

Hog Rock Repent! Replace the Jugs with Jesus! Breasts exist to feed the child, not to horn up the husband. Hooters are for Scooters.  When the girls were young and George would come home loaded and frisky I would always tell him, "Tits are for tots, not for sots."

 

No Tits for Sots

My suggestion to Hog Rock is let's see Less Bod and More God.
 

 

Sincerely,
 

Laura Bush