of course we welcome the democratic process

people for years... she was lost in thought, feeling dirty covering up for the evils of yet another slick talking man who could look you in the eye and lie. That's it, she decided

I'm making Soup. They can eat bar soap if they like. It's not as if I can crap these things out all day. Let them eat cake is a thing of the past.

That's what Mario Batali said after the Food Network TV execs cancelled his show. The Italian Prima Taglia Madonna was PISSED! So he got a vat of really hot beef stock and

raided their offices, processed meat in hand. Throwing some calorie bombs at the building's front door, he grabbed a hold of the secretary. "I've got a beef with the execs."

She screamed, tears streaming from her face as I clutched her throat with one hand. "TELL ME WHERE BERT GOLDFAGER IS OR I'LL RAPE YOUR ESOPHAGUS WITH FOIE GRAS, BITCH!"

Soon afterwards the doctors diagnosed me with a severe case of tourettes, and placed me in a dark padded room so that I couldn't choke innocent nuns anymore.

You see the nuns choked on my vile outbursts of swearing at the convent. Mother Superior thought I was possessed and the things they tried to exorcise me made this padded cell look

really cool under a microscope, but I guess all cells look cool under a microscope, unless it's a cheap microscope. However, the nuns didn't believe in microscopes, so they

had to look at cells the ol' fashioned way. That, anyway, is the explanation those nuns gave me for the blood they'd gotten in their eyes. I may never know for sure.