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Even though I don’t cook, and have little interest in, or aptitude for hospitality, whenever Thanksgiving rolls around I can’t help but think of Martha Stewart.  This is largely due to my friend P.J., who is a high priestess in the Church of Martha, a cult which exists to create and serve tasty cocktails and hors d’oeuvres around the holidays, and which, were they to merge with the Catholic Church, would undoubtedly make for a very swinging communion.

Speaking of the clergy, Pastor Swank also has Martha Stewart on this mind.  Martha Stewart and…MURDER!  Or at any rate, Mrs. Swank apparently wants to put the doyenne of upper middle class home economics on ice; but Martha has survived the exercise yard and the lesbian wrestling matches in the ladies correctional institution shower room, so sticking a shiv in her may not be quite so easy as La Swank believes.

I THOUGHT MY WIFE WOULD SHARPEN KNIVES WHEN MARTHA STEWART BOILED SARAH PALIN

She was not ready to hoist our turkey knife-upward either. She was livid. She was after Martha Stewart. For certain.

And this wife of mine is a Martha Stewart loyal royal. She loves her show. Martha says it; it’s true. My wife even tried the recipe mimic.

As seen in the 1997 film Recipe Mimic, in which Martha Stewart (Mira Sorvino), creates a powerful insecticide out of ordinary items you find around the house, in order to keep roaches out of the kitchen during holiday meal preparation.  All goes well, until three years later, when authorities discover the substance has triggered the evolution of a species of super-insect that can mimic the appearance and culinary repertoire of Rachel Ray.

But no more. When Priscilla learned that Stewart went after Sarah Palin, finis!  Sarah Palin is not God. But Palin is indeed a choice one for Priscilla.

Great, we could use a hot girl-on-girl scene right about now.  I see it as a combination of The Bishop’s Wife and Bound, with Sarah Palin as an angel sent to help Pastor Swank finally build a church that’s not in his living room, except she falls for Priscilla, and the two plot to steal the construction funds and frame Swank, leading to a violent and deadly climax in the nave (which is awkward, because the chancel doubles as the Swank’s entertainment center, forcing the two women to squeegee the blood off the TV screen before they can watch The L Word).
bound.jpg

Gov. Sarah Palin (L) and Mrs. Priscilla Swank (R) in Dial M for Martha.

So Stewart was asked what she thought of Palin. I saw it with my own eyes. And as far as I could tell, Stewart’s eyes drooped in a condescending fall. The lids were all but on the floor.

The only thing worse than being patronized by falling eyeballs is having to pick up after haughty female media magnates when they leave their lids all over the red carpet.

Stewart let it be known in that soft, cutting voice of the elite that Palin was “boring.” Palin is so boring that Stewart would not even care to walk across the street to hear one syllable from the former Alaskan Governor.  Further, Palin is not only stiff board, she’s “dangerous” for any country. Just plain dangerous. She is not good stuff, in other words.

Well, I don’t know how “dangerous” Palin is, but she may indeed be “not good stuff” (although I believe she gave the “stiff board” to Rich Lowry.)

When I told her what media was telecasting, Priscilla was a bit suspicious that I had fallen into hyperbole.

You?  Noooo…

But when Priscilla heard with her own ears those nasty terms sliding off the kitchen mistress’ tongue, Priscilla just about slid all the knives from her own cabinet onto the fighting field. Priscilla looked to me as if she were after blood.

Why do I think this probably wasn’t the first time Mrs. Swank pulled a knife and looked at the Pastor with murder in her eyes?

After all, there are some moral bases that cannot be crossed without battle begun. I guessed in an instant that the garrisons were being called up and children should run for cover.

Oh great, now she’s Peter Lorre from M (“Hey look, Hon, there’s a balloon trapped in the telephone wires.  I think Mrs. Swank has killed again.”)

Stewart, with all her cute phrases and courteous glances toward one show guest or another was now no friend of Wifey. Stewart’s lush pad and come-back from prison cell was no bait for Priscilla’s liking.

And I can’t say I blame her. I go right along with her analysis of the Cooking Queen.

I predict Swank will regret agreeing with Wifey, because now he’s going to have to help her move the body.

Stewart has lost with us common folk who have brains working for what is decent and logical.

Said…Pastor Swank.

Stewart has tightened all the more with the crusty liberals, dittoing their mantras and bedding down with their tripe.

According to the Urban Dictionary, “bedding down with tripe” is also known as the “Full Menudo” or the “Philadelphia Pepper Pot,” while “dittoing the mantra” is basically a “rusty trombone,” made slightly more hygienic by the “player” wearing a pair of wax lips.

Any questions, just ask Priscilla. She’s ready with the verbiage—out and about and up and down and left to right, no end in sight.

Word to your mother.

Further, as I see her marching up the avenue, I note quite a line of like-minded pot-banging females screaming at the pines.

Suckiest. Vision Quest.  Ever.

47 Responses to “Swanksgiving”

Well, now we know why the good Pastor’s wife doesn’t intervene and see that he gets his meds on time; she’s clearly as batty as he is.

Further, as I see her marching up the avenue, I note quite a line of like-minded pot-banging females screaming at the pines.

I’m oh so glad I don’t live in Swankie’s neighborhood.

I saw it with my own eyes. And as far as I could tell, Stewart’s eyes drooped in a condescending fall. The lids were all but on the floor.

Well I’m not a fool. And I’m not capable of being fooled! Not even by a woman.

Any questions, just ask Priscilla. She’s ready with the verbiage—out and about and up and down and left to right, no end in sight.

She just goes a little mad sometimes. We all go a little mad sometimes. Haven’t you?

OK, here’s my fave:

Priscilla just about slid all the knives from her own cabinet onto the fighting field.

And seriously, is the Pastor’s extraordinary style due to visual hallucinations? Does he inhabit a Wonderland of “fighting fields” & sliding knives, all under the big gov’t. thumb of the “Cooking Queen?”

Please remember you’re only seeing Mrs Swank through Mr Swank’s eyes. She may not be anywhere near as crazy as he indicates. And, my gods, can’t you feel the love when he talks about her. So glad I’m not in one of those traditional marriages. They sound miserable.

…triggered the evolution of a species of super-insect that can mimic the appearance and culinary repertoire of Rachel Ray.

Actually, ordinary insects can handle the repertoire.

And while as usual I bow–far deeper than becomes an American–to the insights of the Internets’ Own D. Sidhe, I myself have long suspected this wife, assuming she exists. I mean somebody is making sure the Good Pastor’s looniest brain bubbles surface at Renew America, right? And it sure isn’t the “church” secretary.

So glad I’m not in one of those traditional marriages. They sound miserable.

I think you may be inadvertently conflating “traditional marriages” with “married to Pastor Swank”. The first can be pretty nice most of the time, but I can imagine the second… eh, not so much.

I wonder if he TALKS the way he writes.
Which leads me to wonder about the whispered conversation Swank and the Mrs. have during…[shudder] no. Not. Going. There.

…Stewart has tightened all the more with the crusty liberals, dittoing their mantras and bedding down with their tripe. Any questions, just ask Priscilla. She’s ready with the verbiage—out and about and up and down and left to right, no end in sight….

Okay, Swankish to Irish to Italian to something vaguely Englishy:

“Stewart views all with a close, is higher than the crunchy liberal mantra, dittoing jumped down and tripe coconut. For any questions, but ask one Priscilla’s verbiage – out with the subject and, and, and, lectures on, and left a nice run no end in sight.”

I am unhappy that the Translatomaton felt it necessary to put, into the same sentence, the words “crunchy”, “coconut”, and “tripe”.

Also. I finally understand why I have never married, because, see, if I had, at some point, whether on the honeymoon or at our 25th anniversary, or any time in between, my husband might have addressed me or referred to me as “Wifey”, and then I would have slid all my knives onto the floor and/or fighting field, and readers, I’d have killed him.

Messy. Ick.

“Stewart’s lush pad and come-back from prison cell was no bait for Priscilla’s liking.”

I… cannot… parse this.

Further, as I see her marching up the avenue, I note quite a line of like-minded pot-banging females screaming at the pines:

“Kill the pig! Cut his throat! Kill the pig! Bash him in!”

Here, capm:

“Neither Stewart’s beautiful home nor her successful return to the community following her incarceration for a felony conviction could serve to trick Priscilla into re-consecrating her Martha Stewart Shrine.”

The quality of Swankish mercy is not strained. It’s macerated, diced, shredded, sliced, muddled, squeezed through cheesecloth, and, eventually, reduced to a smoking cinder. Bon appetit!

“crusty” liberals? What does he even mean?

She was not ready to hoist our turkey knife-upward

With the hyphen placed that way, does he mean that she has the turkey impaled on the knife and it hoisting it up to the sky?

After all, there are some moral bases that cannot be crossed without battle begun.

Yes, calling an attention-seeking grifter “boring” is beyond the pale.

I go right along with her analysis of the Cooking Queen…..Any questions, just ask Priscilla. She’s ready with the verbiage—out and about and up and down and left to right, no end in sight.

did Priscilla utter any “verbiage” at all? It’s pretty swanktastic to agree with an analysis that you never actually articulate, and describe someone who you never actually quote as having “no end in sight” to her talking.

I love Swank.

I must say that the girl-on-girl action with Martha & Priscilla (isn’t that the most perfect name for a Pastor’s wife?!?) sounds pretty hot…I wonder who would be the top?
The Minx

I knew that when Martha Stewart Linens Moved On Up from K-Mart to Macy*s, it was the beginning of The End for the Just-Plain-Folks and their admiration, nay worship of Martha and her fancy-schmancy magazine. And now Oprah is leaving them.

So they turn their lonely eyes to Sarah.

I mean their LOONY eyes.

Sarah = Mrs. Robinson

…how could we have missed it?

Swanksta:

I note quite a line of like-minded pot-banging females screaming at the pines.

Edmund Burke:

the royal captives who followed in the train were slowly moved along, amidst the horrid yells, and shrilling screams, and frantic dances, and infamous contumelies, and all the unutterable abominations of the furies of hell in the abused shape of the vilest of women.

So I guess this means that Martha Stewart losing the approval of Priscilla Swank is tantamount to the demise of the French monarchy. The dead of chivalry age is.

“I note quite a line of like-minded pot-banging females screaming at the pines…”

Sounds like the Weird Sisters.

“Double double, toil and trouble
Fire burn and cauldron bubble

“When shall We Three meet again
In thunder, lightning or in rain?”

Why scream at the pines?

When you can pine for the fjords.

The quality of Swankish mercy is not strained. It’s macerated, diced, shredded, sliced, muddled, squeezed through cheesecloth, and, eventually, reduced to a smoking cinder. Bon appetit!

Larkspur, I adore you.

Doghouse, I see your point, but my theory is that she’s figured out that letting him rant away in public means fewer people come to his “church” and are subsequently warped by exposure to his actual brain. Well, or she knows it’s us or her, and honestly, the woman’s daily trials must be legendary already.

Yikes! How do I pay attention? The hot action is between Mrs. Swank and Sarah Palin!
I’m still wondering who is going to be the “top”. Any thoughts from the wonderful group here?

MARTHA STEWART BOILED SARAH PALIN

“A copy of Pastor Swank’s Imaginary Cookbook” is not on my list of $mas-present suggestions.

S.P. has BDSM Dom Top written all over her; S’Wank reads like a classic sub bottom who calls her “wifey” in public but “Mommy” in private (if he even has reached the verbal stage: he might just gurgle and coo, or cry to have his diaper changed). It would be a dominatrix deathmatch!

Speaking of pining for the fjords… Rev. Swankster can take off a little here, rearrange your syntax there, paste on an ending to a verb here, and you’ve got yourself a whole new language!

Beautiful plumage!

herr doktor bimler, I believe that cookbook would be titled “To Serve Sarah,” just so you know…

All apologies to Rod Serling.

And is MARTHA STEWART BOILED SARAH PALIN describing how Martha prepared Sarah, or is it describing flavoring ingredients such as hickory smoked ham, or sugar coated pecans?

I can help with some of this. Yes, he probably does talk more or less the way he writes. I do, after all.

“Stewart’s lush pad and come-back from prison cell was no bait for Priscilla’s liking.”

This means that Priscilla is no longer tempted to approve of Martha for the sake of her beautiful home, with Swank throwing in a quaint reminder that most ex-cons don’t get nearly so nice a place to come home to. (Which actually makes me like him almost a noticeable amount, because it makes me suspect that he’s seen where ex-cons live, and is perhaps something more than a talk-the-talk clergyman. Or maybe he just watches Law & Order, I dunno.)

The “BOILED” thing is probably an indication that Swank has read too many stories about cannibalistic native heathens and righteous, Godly missionaries. Sarah, a woman of God, come to spread the Good News (and also teach us to put some clothes on), was viciously rejected by the savage and ignorant unGraced. Just as Swank himself is every day, what with us naked, painted blogheathens throwing him into our giant cauldron and slicing muddy roots on top of him. I mean, really, do you have any idea how much it sucks to be an evangelist these days? People take your pamphlet and say “Yeah, okay” and keep walking. Even the martyrdom is unsatisfying, people just laugh under their breath and walk away quickly. How are you supposed to feel beseiged by Satanic forces with that sort of shit going on? Where’s the glory in being told if the offerings don’t cover your electric bill, they will let there not be light?

And g has nailed it, to the screamed-at pines. For all this quirkily eloquent assessment of–and enthusiastic agreement with–Priscilla’s views, Priscilla never actually seems to have said anything. Word to the wise, Pastor, just because some of the voices in your head sound female, doesn’t mean they’re actually your wife speaking.

Not, of course, that this is uncommon. There are un-crazy or at least undiagnosed men who will attribute any gossipy opinion or unmanly desire of their own to their wives, without knowing or caring what their wives actually think on any given subject. Their wives are just an extension of their own personalities, a puppet they use for things they themselves don’t want to be blamed for. Which is why I suggest we remember Mrs Swank is being viewed by us only through her husband’s eyes. She may actually be the Fiery Fury Queen of the She-Demons with a blinding radioactive halo and a whip of thorns for all I know, but I’m not prepared to take Swank’s word for it.

D. Sidhe, brilliant dissection, as always.

For some reason, Martha Stewart’s mag has started showing up at our house, and I thought I’d have a bit O’ fun looking at the OCD-domestic goddessness of it all as a joke, though I have to admit some of the recipes look worth checking out.

As I looked over Martha’s November calendar (yoga every Tuesday, workout every Thursday), my eyes settled on the entry for Nov 20: “Bathe the cats”. Now when the resident feline gets a little out of control, I threaten to go all Nov-20 on her fuzzy little ass. Sets her right straight.

Yoga and another workout once a week? I’d be a blob of useless jello, unable to get off of the couch. I feel like a slacker when I take two days away from my practice! I have never bathed a cat, maybe that covers several days of ordinary workouts.

Butch, I have a feeling Martha puts a lotta muscle, literally, into her moguldom.

Pastor Swank is really amazing when he’s on a verbal roll. Whatever the Missus actually said and did, he was inspired by her to great flights! “Sing, Muse, the anger of Plain Folks
at Martha’s lids, which slid 1,000 kitchen knives onto the battlefield…”

Really, that business about the avenue lines with pot-banging like-minded females screaming at the pines deserves to be in some collection somewhere. The man’s a visionary. In ancient Greece or, better, ancient Ireland, they’d have welcomed him to the hearth with bated breath, wondering what he’d come up with this time.

..that’d be the avenue lineD with pot-banging etc. Guess I was subconsciously going for a rhyme.

Translation Party makes more sense than Swank: £Stewart, and their silly slogans, dittoing and bedding and are unfriendly to enhance the progress of all. All questions, please contact Priscilla just. She has a vision to create a still vertical and horizontal text”

Holy crap on a cracker, couldn’t he just say Wifey doesn’t care much for Martha Stewart and be done with it? Gives me a migraine his syntax does.

Bathing a cat is one of those Essential Experiences, but not one you want to repeat. My 2 year old decided to shampoo our cat -but used furniture polish, which I’d left sitting on the bookcase when I answered the phone.

After pulling my hair and envisioning the toddler drinking the wood polish, I carried Kitty to the Kitchen sink and attempted to wash out the petroleum-with-orange-oil from his fur.

What bemused me is the fact that he sat still while a 2 year old rubbed smelly grease on him, but did *not* hold still for me. Maybe he was scared of the drain? I had to phone my sister to come and help.

And, yes, I put the polish away in a high, locking, cabinet.

Stewart’s lush pad and come-back from prison cell was no bait for Priscilla’s liking.

And I can’t say I blame her. I go right along with her analysis of the Cooking Queen.

Please. Someone parse these paragraphs for me and show me where the continuity lies?

What does “no bait for her liking” mean? That she’s a fish?

The kittens required a lot of bathing, to get rid of the ringworm. It actually wasn’t that bad. We filled the tub with a couple inches of lukewarm water, turned the water off. Holding the cats, we put them in, one at a time, and shampooed them. Then we rinsed by pouring water over them with a cup. With ours, at least, as long as you’re always holding them under the belly so they know they won’t go under, and you don’t have running water, they actually did okay with it. I did it to two kittens every other day for about two months, all by myself. It wasn’t too bad. Furniture polish is probably worse, but yeah, I don’t think they like standing in something when water’s going down the drain. If the water’s not moving much, it’s apparently okay.

I was really dreading it, but it actually turned out not to be a big deal. It certainly wasn’t as big a stress point as quarantining them and decontaminating the rooms they’d been in. They didn’t like me, but they’ve forgiven me and will jump into the tub on their own after showers, and sleep in (dry) sinks.

Mind you, I’d sooner cut my own arm off at the shoulder than try this on the older cat. Kittens may be more malleable, so to speak.

If I tried that on Bigcat I would not need to cut my arm off at the shoulder.

She was not ready to hoist our turkey knife-upward either.

Well, duh; it would strike the Zenith Gear.

The feral kitten who adopted me would probably be pretty amenable to bathing. She likes to stick her head under the faucet if it’s left running just a wee trickle. And my sister’s cat likes to play in his water dish. Some cats like water.

Mysterious little creatures, aren’t they?

I THOUGHT MY WIFE WOULD SHARPEN KNIVES WHEN MARTHA STEWART BOILED SARAH PALIN

And I dreamed I’d make a pot roast in my Maidenform bra…

Further, as I see her marching up the avenue, I note quite a line of like-minded pot-banging smoking females screaming at the pines.

Fixed for more likely scenario.

“I knew that when Martha Stewart Linens Moved On Up from K-Mart to Macy*s, it was the beginning of The End for the Just-Plain-Folks and their admiration, nay worship of Martha and her fancy-schmancy magazine. And now Oprah is leaving them.

So they turn their lonely eyes to Sarah,” said Female Cat.

Yes, the same $arah Palin whose widely touted “bus tour” for her book actually has been conducted largely by Gulfstream jet, sometimes paid for by HarperCollins (at $4,000 an hour), and sometimes on Franklyn Graham’s Samaritan’s Purse jet (a 501(c)(3) organization!). This, of course, makes $arah “one of us,” because we ALL take private jets instead of the bus.

For full details, which $P calls “opposition research,” see http://www.palingates.blogspot.com.

Ok, I will admit that I actually bathe the cat once a year, but only because (1) her former owner did it every month, and (2) she hates being brushed and it deals with the spring shed-out/hairball barf-fest pretty well. D Sidhe has it about right. I draw a warm bath, sit in one end with 2 full watering cans (for rinsing), turn the water off, and have the husband bring me the cat/victim. She isn’t thrilled and squawks a bit, but she doesn’t scratch or bite; mostly she just looks shocked that we could turn on her like that. Lots of towels at the end and do this only on a very warm day since blowdriers are a no-no (trust me on this one).

Depends on their personality I guess. Our prior cat (rest her soul) would have removed at least one arm if I’d ever tried that, but I never needed to so it was all good for everyone.

And I dreamed I’d make a pot roast in my Maidenform bra…

I would have thought that it would be more suitable for a shaped meatloaf.

I would have thought that it would be more suitable for a shaped meatloaf.

or in Caribou Barbie’s case, half-baked Alaska

We are stealing your idea and stuff. We have debated it and want a go at the asshole you posted about. We will link to you and all that shit, giving you credit. Plus a link with a logo or something… yeah we rock, no you can not touch us – we all have phobias about being touched.

Your comment section “Something to say” is very close to what we have on our site. We need to change it.

Dig the blog. You got mad bow hunt’in skills

Uhh we here at DQB are not that intelligent. We meant to comment on the post before this one… yeah… we are sharp.

Please get rid of all our comments on this post. We are really stupid… evidently.

Something to say?