Ain’t it just like the Pantload
He’s a prick–there’s no way to deny it.
Producing huge pantloads of dough
Thinking readers will buy it.
With his pompous airs, facial hairs
and Cheetoh-based diet,
Making points so ridiculous
You’re amazed that he’d actually try it!

He’s sure got a lot of gall.
To be so useless and all
With essays and blogs that appall
And a conscience so small.

No semblance of intellect
Resides in the mind of this fool.
But his visions of self-grandeur
Will not die. What a tool!

In a soldier’s stance, I aimed my hand at the mongrel dogs who teach
Fearing not that I’d become my enemy in the instant that I preach
My pathway led by confusion boats, mutiny from stern to bow

Except:

Ah, but I was just a nepotism hire then, I’m dumber than that now.

Hey! mr. tambourine man, write a post for me,
I’m so lazy and there is no place i’m going to.
Hey! mr. tambourine man, write a post for me,
A good wingnut angle and i’ll come followin’ you.

Though i know that evilist empire has returned to sand,
And my dick done vanished from my hand,
Left me to sit here blindly and still not thinking.
My weariness amazes me, i’m stranded on my feet,
I have nothing to left to eat
And the ancient empty feedbag too dead for dreaming.

Hey! mr. tambourine man, write a post for me,
I’m so lazy and there is no thought i’m going to.
Hey! mr. tambourine man, write a post for me,
Any old wingnut drivel and i’ll come followin’ you.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andr%C3%A9s_Escobar

Doughy is the spawn of Lucianne
The Tripp tapes and a stained blue dress was their in
But they never lost their heads
Hey Teh Clenis was gettin’ head
They say, hey babe, Fascism’s on the left side
Military authoritarians lurve them hippies on the left side
And the coloured girls go

doo-do-doo-do-doo….

Munch munch munchin’ on lunch’s door

Mama keep those fascists offa me
They won’t respect my authority
They have read books that aren’t mine
And it feels like I’m knocking on lunch’s door

Munch munch munching on lunch’s door

Mama put my cheetos in the ground
I don’t want them lying round
Derb or someone will scoff them down
While I am stealing his lunch pail

munch munch munching on lunch’s door.

More than welcome, and I await with excitement.

I’ve got a plan for an animated gif starring Der Lodedhosen. We’ll see if it comes to pass, so to speak.

Jonah the wingnut loser
Had a very Panting Load;
All of the other wingnuts
Used to call J. a choad.
They never let poor Jonah
Talk in any wingnut frames;
They all said poor Pantload
Would leave Lucianne ashamed.

Then how teh wingnuts loved him,
As they stalled about with glee:
Jonah the Doughy Pantload,
You’ll FAIL like you ought to be!!

Jonah Goldberg writes for National Review
On a laptop he taps with Cheetoh stained fingers
About a story that appeared on somebody’s blogspot
A story his interns had to read to him
One that involved an aging folk rocker
A story that clearly was central to his point
That black men were mean and angry and scary

And you who philosophize, disgrace
And criticize all fears
Take the pantload away from your screen
Now is the time for your jeers

I love how Pantload actually makes our case for us without ever realizing it. Of course awareness of any sort is far above below his pay grade.

I fix for you, good sir.

So I’m knockin’ on K-Lo’s door

The mental image I have now in my head leads me to ponder upon the non-existence of the sting of death, and the victory of the grave. Also.

Brains in the pot, they’re beginning to boil
They’re dripping with garlic and olive oil

And no mention of ‘Floater (Too Much To Ask) in the comments?

Are you going to finish that frozen cheesecake?