Hillary Clinton Regrets "Cock-Smoking" Gandhi Joke

en. Hillary Rodham Clinton apologized this week for referring to Indian leader Mahatma Gandhi as a "cock-smoking son of a bitch" in a speech at a Democratic fund-raiser earlier in the month. Insisting the statement was taken out of context, the former first lady explained that she was merely attempting to liven up her speech by making humorous reference to the deceased leader's man-pleasing proclivities.

Clinton's bizarre comments came while speaking in support of Senate candidate Nancy Farmer. The former first lady introduced the aspiring senator to the fund-raiser crowd with a comparison to Gandhi, suggesting that both had blown more men than the A-bomb. The stunned silence of the room turned to nervous laughter when the former first lady followed her comment with an explanatory "blow job" facial expression using her tongue and cheek.

The resultant public outcry once newspapers picked up on the story led to a prompt public retraction from the New York senator.

"Mahatma Gandhi was a great man, and I sincerely apologize if I ever gave any indication to the contrary," Sen. Clinton stated in apology. "He was a true gift to humanity."

"You can ask anybody whose choad he smoked," added Clinton after a brief pause.

The outrage incensed by Clinton's previous statements flared up like a gas-soaked Buddhist monk when word of her apology hit the street.

"I'm visibly offended," blustered Tonight Show joke writer George Mattson. "Everybody knows Gandhi material is my thing. If she thinks she can horn in on my comedic territory, she's got another thing coming. I've got years worth of 'Damn, Chelsea Ugly' jokes saved up. Years. Also I've also been meaning to say that Hillary looks suspiciously like she should be Bill's mother. Now I'm going to say it."

"Hillary has been trying to inject humor into her public persona lately," explained publicist Aria Hershberg. "She's understandably tired of coming off as the prototypical lesbian stuffed shirt in mannish shoes, and who can blame her? Just play along, trust me. She's still new at this and it can take a while for an adult to develop a personality belatedly, just give her a little time. And actually I thought the thing she said about the giraffe's gynecologist was kind of funny. Maybe you had to be there."

Displaying a unique talent for shoveling shit straight into an oncoming hurricane, Sen. Clinton has dug herself deeper with each successive quote following the incident.

"Listen, listen, I have admired the work and life of Mahatma Gandhi and have spoken publicly about that many times," explained Clinton at a recent charity dinner. "What I said the other day was just a lame attempt at humor. I sincerely apologize for suggesting the honorable Mahatma Gandhi would tongue your balls for a dollar."

After a relieved sigh from diners, Clinton continued. "What I should have said was 'Mahatma Gandhi's mama so ugly she could knock the dot off a Hindu at twenty paces!'"

In spite of recent public relations setbacks, Clinton's attempts at developing a sense of humor show no signs of flagging. In the last week, Sen. Clinton has spoken out in support of legislation "to make math easier for retards" and has gone public with the incredibly dated quip that "the next time I see Michael Gorbachev, I'm gonna wipe that thing off his head. What's up with that thing, really?"

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Few of you would have guessed who is the greatest peacekeeper in the world, if I didn't tell you right now it's me—Rok Finger. I do not own this title simply because I've bestowed it upon myself, and am too big and intimidating to keep people from taking it away again. I own this title now because I have brought together the two estranged neighborhoods surrounding me, with nothing but this silver tongue in my mouth. Never let it be said bodypaint didn't bring something good to the world.

Perfunctory backstory: I found out Poodlegrass, the neighborhood Ginger and I live in, is more properly called West Poodlegrass. This explained immediately why I have not been getting my mail, and I presume some hotshot over in East Poodlegrass has been enjoying that pubic hair comb & brush set I bought from eBay, but that's a rant for another time. The neighbors won't talk to me, of course, but they did mention to Ginger when she inquired about the mail trouble that West Poodlegrass and East Poodlegrass frequently had mail mix-ups.

This might have been enough for the unambitious female mind of my adoring wife, and the endless drones living around us, but Rok Finger had to wonder: Why West and East Poodlegrass? Had there been an irreparable rift between the two at some point in history? And if so, was this irreparable rift beyond repair? I didn't know what it was, but I didn't think so.

So, owning the gigantic brass balls that I do, I ventured into the hellish maw of East Poodlegrass and braved their idiot rabble and unintelligible accents to talk to their leaders—frightened and worried about what kind of bizarre government they might practice. Well, turns out they aren't all that different from us, although they do practice a strange kind of "democracy" where officials are chosen by the populace to represent their wishes as a government body that decides laws and enforces them. Quite a twist from our own secret oligarchy, eh? Red Bagel would be impressed.

Hmm. I got sidetracked. Quite unlike me. But anyhow, it turns out Poodlegrass was separated for purposes of deciding county borders. West Poodlegrass is in the traditional and respectable Pork County side of New Jersey, while East Poodlegrass resides in the forgettable and tragic Bowling County. Well, just give up now, I thought, you can't change county lines. Or could I? No, I couldn't. But I did have an entreaty for the president of the East Poodlegrass Neighborhood Block Association: "Mr. Gorblatt, tear down the wall that divides our two great neighborhoods!"

I was at this point informed it's not a wall at all, but a stalled-out train that's been parked on the tracks for a great number of months, and they were as interested in moving it as I was. What a thundering blow for freedom! All I had to do was get this train moving again.

A simple matter, of course. Whenever I want something big and ungainly removed and lack the ability to do it myself, I merely inform Omar Bricks that I overheard his old nemesis Johnshark Remnants say nobody could move it. Competitive he is, I'll give him that. By the next morning the train had disappeared, washing up off the Jersey shore and making quite a news story. But my interest ended there. I had done it: Maybe East and West Poodlegrass would still have separate names, but now residents could freely cross the tracks as they wished and exchange their correct mail with each other. Thanks all to me—and I guess Bricks gets some honorable mention in all this, if you're going to hold me to the wall on it.

What's next? I'm not sure. But I do think it's time those two Carolinas stopped all that fussin' and fightin'.

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How was your day?

Eh. Half and half.

Half milk and half cream?

Nope, more like Heroin and Alf.

Like Jerry Stahl?

I said Heroin and Alf.

Never mind.

What's that you're drinking?

A can of orange juice.

I didn't see you shake that.

That's right, you didn't.

It says "Shake gently before enjoying".

Don't worry. I'm not enjoying it.

"No, nevermind operator. I don't have an emergency. I mean to dial 9-1-2. Sorry."

Do you realize those shoes don't go with those pants?

What, brown and black don't match now?

No, the characters.

Charlie Brown and Lucy don't go together? Did I miss an episode?

That's not Lucy, that's a Powerpuff Girl.

Really?

Uh-huh.

And Powerpout Girls don't go with Charlie Brown?

That's not Charlie Brown, that's Cartman.

The slob kid?

That's Pigpen. You're on the wrong show.

Then who in the hell do I have on my underwear?

Those are stains, not characters.

They have character.

I stand corrected.

Do you ever think about what happens when you die?

Your shoes change color and you have to bleach the sink.

That sounds dangerous for the environment. Like that movie.

Spice World?

No, the one with Jason Robards. Edwynn. Edwynn Broncobitch.

You never leave the house, do you?

Only during fire drills.

I've got one for you.

Only one?

Yes. Why is an elephant like an accordion?

Why?

I didn't say it was a joke.

Oh.

Do you think I'm fat?

Not impressively.

People say I'm the biggest waist of their time.

They'll do that.

I wonder if I'll get any more mail today?

Not likely. Unless you grow a mustache. I'd suggest handlebars.

You think that's why my bike keeps crashing?

You never know.

I take that personally.

I meant to bark it like a dog.

Once again, you've failed.

If I was executed by the press, would they use a noosepaper?

Not likely, I think they've gone Hindu. All I hear about is the press on nails.

I hear they make quiet neighbors. No creaking beds.

True, but they're hell on inflatable sheep.

What do you think of human cloning?

I think they should leave cloning to the clowns.

Too true. What about genetic engineering?

Somebody has to drive the trains.

You couldn't be more right.

I'm every bit the riot you are. I've got cars on fire.

I've got people setting fire to their own grandparents.

Really? Are they burning well?

Like cordwood.

I'll have to remember to pack some grandparents the next time I go camping.

Do you camp often?

-silence-

Hello?

Oh, sorry. I thought you were talking to someone else.

So did I.

Taxi!

Slugbug! -sock-

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