Still nothing much to say

Even if the well is still pretty dry, it's hard not to wonder about the outcome of the upcoming Democratic primary for mayor of New York.  Will Weiner walk? What will Huma do? And what about Miss Leathers, who gets all hot and bothered listening to wonks debate health care policy? Actually, you really do have to feel sorry for Huma. Here she is, a proud warrioress of Islam, devoted to spreading the True Faith by any means necessary amongst the loathsome kaffirs who dwell in benighted darkness in the Dar al-Harb with their loose women and their thirty minute pizza delivery and their flush toilets, and she is stuck with this idiot Jew who can't stop showing off his tallywhacker to any woman who wants to take a look at it.  Taqqiya has its limits, after all.  Perhaps she thought a little rehab and a lot of hudna would help; the Americans have the attention spans of gnats, you know, and if she could just get this dopey son of apes and pigs to keep his weener in his pants, then all would be well and she could be well on her way to a position of great power and influence amongst the unbelievers, a position where she could aid the cause of Allah and His Prophet, may peas be upon him.  But it wasn’t to be.  Wiener’s weener is once again a topic of conversation throughout the length and breadth of this our Great Republic, and poor Huma, she is stuck with a pathetic loser who has not only turned himself into a joke, he’s made her one too.  Life is horribly unfair sometimes.