John Boehner, the weepy, drunky Speaker of the House who quite honestly would be your Wonkette’s favorite person in the world if he were a weepy drunky Dem instead of a scaredy little buttboy for Congress’s teabags (can you even imagine how many shot glasses we would sell with his weepy mug on them?), said a funny thing!
They were jawin’ about immigration — jaw jaw jaw yak yak yak — and John Boehner said, “How about a little foreplay first?” Yesssss, John Boehner, how about it? (Before you all start commenting about washing your eyeballs with lye, be honest to yourselves and admit that Boehner is a very handsome man. And of course Wonket has daddy issues, why do you ask?)
Let us imagine, together, the kind of foreplay John Boehner might like — besides Eric Cantor whispering “You’re the real boss, John.”
We cannot envision, despite the weeping, that he would ever be into adult-baby play, like some freakos your Wonket known, so that is out. But we can imagine him doing fat rails with very matoor 13-year-olds, like The Colonel in Boogie Nights.
What we really see, though, is some swanky ’70s-style romantic boudoir action, with tickling with long pink feathers (because classy) and lavender satin sheets (because ELP’s “Lucky Man,” basically). Also: about two liters of vodka, and whisky dick.