May A 1000 Syphyllitic Camels Find His Lotion Amorously Irresistable

Karl Rove moves up in the White House. Apparantly there is still work to do, such as leave the earth a smoldering ash-and burned plastic strewn ruinous waste, starting wars with Scandanavia, and formalizing indentured servitude for medical care.

This leaves me wanting to look up actuarial tables, such as the likelyhood that Rove will be run over by a cement mixer, struck by a bout of toxic zits, get whacked by the mob for betting $2 trillion in government on the Eagles without being able to cover the bet because of tax cuts, or his colon, out of sheer patriotism and exasperation, reaches up and strangles him internally.