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It comes from the mind of American Thinker columnist Humberto Fontova: Sarah Palin’s Basic Instinct.

What Humberto shares with the world isn’t so much his dreams of seeing Sarah in that interrogation scene, as his comments on Aaron Sorkin’s disgust at Sarah’s televised blood lust. (It seems that during the latest ep of “Sarah Palin’s Alaska,” Sarah shot a caribou and then did a gleeful victory dance as she butchered the animal. Sorkin thought this was gross. Humberto thinks that it was way sexy.)

For Humberto is a hunter too (or so he says):

Sarah Palin ain’t the only one who dances on a hunt. [...]My pulse rate jumps, my senses quicken, and I’m jolted back into my primal role. The branch jerks again…again. Gotta be something big, I think. My pulse is really hammering now. Is that a flicking ear?…A black nose?…The sun glints off something…yes!– An antler!

Sadly, the glints were just coming from Sally Jensen’s braces – and after Humberto shot her, it ended up being the worst Madison Junior High dance in recent history.

Anyway, here’s the soft-core porn part of the column.

Dear Penthouse Forum:

So, I have this geeky friend (and he is NOT me). I take him hunting.

He wallops a high-flying mallard, and his eyes light up! Next week, he’s clamoring to go again. [...] The embers have ignited into a raging inferno by now.

Um, this actually isn’t a Brokeback Mountain story, as you can see by my masculine photo. But soon his wife hates me.

Invariably, his wife, once tolerably civil, starts to loathe me. She addresses me exclusively in snarls and curses. She hangs up on me, erases my texts and e-mails. She becomes my bitter foe.

Really, it’s not because she thinks I’ve stolen her husband away from her. Okay, it is, but not how you think!

This hunting stuff, however, is a passion, an obsession. “That’s all he talks about!” she wails. “I never see him anymore! He pays more attention to that stupid shotgun than to me! We can’t go out anymore ’cause he’s always gone on weekends…and that damn racket from that damn duckcall! Night and day!”

He is now sexually attracted to ducks instead of her. Well, ducks and deer. But what are you going to do?

The ducks and deer now compete seriously for her time. She resents it. But this always fades.

Because she starts going on her own “hunting trips” with the pizza delivery boy.

No, strike that. Penthouse, you won’t believe it, but what actually happens is that about Christmas time the wife starts getting aroused by the smell of deer blood and unwashed maleness.

Always happens this way. Her hubby’s new passion brings her benefits in the boudoir, you see. Conquest afield is usually followed by conquest at home. He returns from the chase — dirty, bedraggled, but always with a carnal gleam in his eye. It was so for our Paleolithic ancestors. It remains the case today. Ask around.

Seriously, Penthouse Forum, I would appreciate it if you would start asking around, and find out if women really get turned on by dirty, bedraggled, horny, stupid guys? If so, would you please get me some names and phone numbers?

Oh, and I once saw Sarah Palin getting frisky with her husband. Or maybe it was a bigfoot. But it REALLY HAPPENED!

“That day in sunny Texas when the divorce rumors were rampant in the tabloids,” writes Sarah Palin in Going Rogue, “I watched Todd, tanned and shirtless, take the baby from my arms and walk him back to the ranch house. Seeing Todd’s blue eyes smiling, I chuckled. ‘Dang,’ I thought. ‘Divorce Todd? Have you seen Todd?”

Apparently that gleam is not confined to the male hunters’ eyes.

So, I was wondering if you could get me in touch with some programming guys from The Learning Channel or the Playboy Channel. I have some ideas of how “Sarah Palin’s Alaska” could be made more watchable.

Your friend and faithful reader,

Humberto

25 Responses to “Worst Soft-Core Porn EVER!”

Well, I see that for a Wingnut, a gun is no longer just a Sacred Object…it’s also a sex aid…

“Here you go Honey, tweeze the birdshot out of this duck carcass, then go put on somethin’ frilly, and dab your pulse points with doe estrus.”

@Paul: Pretty sure they’ve been using their rifles to make up for their guns for some time now…

C.f. Seinfeld’s speech to Costanza about how all his desires have merged into one disgusting urge.

Next Week: Sarah orders Big Sausage Pizza!

Wow, sign me up for some hot blood lust boinking by a guy made horny from having just killed and gutted something. If killing and gutting are what gets him hot, just think of what he’ll do to me!

Hmm, my “snark off” tag didn’t post, just im case any of you think I’ve gone insane.

Humberto isn’t actually a Dr. Mike sock puppet, is he? The cold-steel-barrel fetish sounds eerily familiar.

My pulse rate jumps, my senses quicken, and I’m jolted back into my primal role. The branch jerks again…again.

Oh, that was….um…wow…words, they fail here. Oh, wait…here comes one screaming down the pipe now: grooooossssss!

ick.

Oh, Humberto, Humberto. Even the little girls think you’re a serious doofus over shit like this.

Ew.

I just saw a detective show on TV where a woman was bragging to her friends about her husband’s charged up libido when he got back from hunting trips, and it turned out he was actually a serial killer and his hunting trips were about killing women, and that is the reason he was so turned on when he came back. Just sayin’.

I’m sure Robin of Berkeley will be able to reassure us that there is absolutely nothing perverse or clinically classifiable about Humberto Humberto’s scribblings.

Oh what chance has a surfer guy
For the love of a surfer chick
With all these Humberto Humberto types
Shooting moose all big and sick

Hm.

I just don’t know. Ew.

That being said, I’m a Southern liberal, and I have lots of Southern liberal friends who indeed hunt and have eaten much of what they done kilt.

But they never grossed me out with nasty talk about getting icky rage boners at the sight of animal blood.

Conquest afield is usually followed by conquest at home. Yeah, unless the conquest comes while he’s hiking the Appalachiam Trail. Then it’s tears and disgrace at home.

Sarah Palin ain’t the only one who dances on a hunt.

I can’t believe I’m the first to think of this: “Dances With Cunt”

My apologies to my vaginally-ehanced sisteren here. I mean that in the UK fashion.

The branch jerks again…again.

Hm, if Sarah Palin is alone in the forest and a branch jerks, can Rich Lowery be far behind?

He wallops a high-flying mallard, and his eyes light up!

This muss be one them YOOfeemisms I hear so much about. Sounds like choking the chicken only gamier.

Her hubby’s new passion brings her benefits in the boudoir, you see.

Nothing like a honking big moose antler on a cold snowy night when the hubby’s out with his “huntin’ friend”.

It was so for our Paleolithic ancestors. It remains the case today. Ask around.

I can confirm. Why just the other day, I was hunting for crabs, see…AND I FOUND THEM!

“I watched Todd, tanned and shirtless, take the baby from my arms and walk him back to the ranch house. Seeing Todd’s blue eyes smiling, I chuckled. ‘Dang,’ I thought. ‘Divorce Todd? Have you seen Todd?”

Apparently that gleam is not confined to the male hunters’ eyes.

Y’know, I’ve heard that baby-killing is a high testosterone sport.

(s.z., I’m shocked you missed that!)

“tanned and shirtless”?????

Whoa, wait a minute. I lived in the Pacific Northwest and most of the guys I knew up there had a trucker’s tan – the back of the neck and the forearms from the elbows down only.

You don’t spend a lot of time with your shirt off in that kind of weather.

How does Todd Palin get his upper body tanned living in Alaska and working in the oil fields of the north slope? You don’t suppose he… goes to a tanning parlor, does he?

Oh what chance has a surfer guy
For the love of a surfer chick
With all these Humberto Humberto types
Shooting moose all big and sick

You neglected to add, with apologies to Thomas Pynchon.

g, that tan might be the Boehner tan, straight from the bottle.

He wallops a high-flying mallard, and his eyes light up! Next week, he’s clamoring to go again. [...] The embers have ignited into a raging inferno by now.
“Humbert-O: I was not quite prepared for the reality of my dual role. On the one hand, the willing corruptor of an innocent, and on the other, Humbert the happy housewife.”

How does Todd Palin get his upper body tanned living in Alaska and working in the oil fields of the north slope?

Oh, that’s easy! It’s not the sun, it’s the crude. Naked Spartan spatula wrestling is a craze up there.

Wow, it’s such a paean to the reptilian core that I’m tempted to wonder why we ever left the trees.

And:

Every time I hear a shotgun blast, my brain automatically adds “HOT DAMN”.

Something to say?