We’re still a coupla months from 2012 and the GOR already has over a dozen candidates for president. Some of ‘em are supported by the AWNP, others by the PNCP (but not many, maybe one), and too many others have no damned support at all — Willamae Bisonpharter, from right here in Gonads and the newest of the distaff candidates, really needs a lot more support than she’s got for them 53EEEs. [ed: distaff is one of them fancy educated words for womenfolk] Thing is, the support is what this new brewhaha is all about.

The GWATFM are getting tired as hell of paying out to candidates anyway, but the they usually will contribute to three or four every election just to hedge themselves. Well, they sat down at one of those summits (not somethin’ we see a lot of in Gonads – we thought they were parts of a mountain) a couple a days ago and came up with an ultimatum for the GOR. They either have to cut back to four or five candidates or lose all the contribution money.

“We’re willing to pay a reasonable amount to buy this election,” said GWATFM president William Q.F.A “Big Willie” DuMont. “But having to come up with a million or two a piece for twenty guys — and girls — is ridiculous. We’ve got a put a stop to all these politicians who think they’re damned well worth as much as we are.”

The solution, as proposed by NHENA, is a little hunting trip for all the candidates. Four candidates, drawn at random (and prioritized by corporate-friendly voting record) will be allowed to wear them bright orange vests. The rest, will have to wear fur suits and pink tutus. Any body shooting at somebody in an orange vest will be immediately disqualified.

[Editor's note: We know it's really spelled "brouhaha" but what the hell's the fun it that?

PS. Here are the meanin's of some of them bunches-a-letters-put-together things. If y'all don't already know 'em maybe your not of the right persuasion to be a citizen of Gonads.

 AWNP - American Wing Nut Party (Tea drinkin' is for sissies)
GOR - Guys (or gals) On the Right
GWATFM - Guys (or gals) With All the F**king Money
NHENA - National High Explosive and Nukes Association ]

American Wing Nut Party - feel free to use this logo, but it must ALWAYS be placed to the RIGHT of any text.

At a special fundraising meeting of the AWNP in Gonads, billionaire Daffy Krotch announced a deal with the FDA to end cancer. When those lefty big-city reporters got wind of this they were so damned sure it was some kind of a scam that they came right on down here. You can be damned sure they didn’t get much of a welcome. But I digress [lw: like that word?... if you don't know what it means, you can look it up].

One of them got into the meeting somehow and shot a nasty, biased question to Mr. Krotch [lw:ya gotta call him mister or he'll have somebody cut your balls off].

Reporter: “Hey Daffy! Did one of your companies actually come up with a cure for cancer?”

Mr. Krotch: “Better than that, and I’ll be happy to tell these good people about it as soon as my security team escorts your ass out of here.”

After a bit of a scuffle, twenty-six former WKAO* regional semi-finalists carted that reporter right on out of the building.

Mr. Krotch: “No, we didn’t come up with a cure. We did something even better. Cancer no longer exists, in fact it never existed. A new official cancer doctrine to be released later this week states…”

Courtesy: Banco de Puerco

At this point, since Mr. Krotch has always been too busy sellin’ apples and makin’ money to learn how to read, a Krotch SpokesBabe, borrowed from Vik at Banco de Puerco [lw: not too bad lookin' either] come up to the microphone and read from a slip of paper.

SpokesBabe: “The guvmint agencies that control eveything about American health [you notice she said control, not a damned thing about care] have determined that any product, by product, waste discharge, or other general flatulence that generally makes Mr. Krotch and his brother money CANNOT cause cancer. Therefore within sixty days of this announcement, cancer and those nasty lefty lies called carcinogens will cease to exist in Am…”

Scream from outside: “My balls!!!!!”

SpokesBabe: “erica…”

Welp, there y’all have it.

Gonads pinky-swear.

*World Kick-Ass Organization

SpokesBabe image licensed to BdP through BigStockphoto.com

A bunch of Feds showed up on the doorstep of the Gonads Inland Oyster company this morning with about a hundred U.S. Marshals and such. They come to town with intentions to shut down Inland Oyster flat, no questions asked. “What the hell for?” We asked, and the head Fed just said “That’s between us and the Inland Oyster people, why don’t you just go on about your business.”

“This is my business,” I said back to the guy. “I’m a freakin’ reporter here, and this is news, dang it! You better just tell me what’s goin’ on.”

After thinkin’ about it for a spell, the head Fed said, “What the hell, you’re going to hear soon enough. The FDA is after Inland Oyster for some inspection problems. They tried to handle it themselves, but the last guy they sent out had a shotgun shoved up his ass.” He looked me up and down, takin’ special notice of my Moleskine real-reporter notebook, then said. “Guess that’s all I can tell you for now.”

Ida stayed to get more of the story, but it was gettin’ on toward suppertime.  Here you go. I’ll work on this story a piece tomorrow.

Welcome to the very first issue of the Gonads Holler online! Since it doesn’t take no ink or paper, we might just come out with this one more’n once a week.

Dig on in, we got some great stories comin’