Ask Francine -I’m Washed Out and Unamused

Just this morning I was doing laundry (the maid is out with a broken tailbone – don’t ask) when I saw my neighbor across the street pulling crabgrass out of his lawn. His sweatpants sagged, showing his coin-slot backside.
My eyes started to burn, and I found myself dry-heaving all over my freshly laundered towels. Although I am pure, I must rewash them for health-code reasons.
The man is French or Jewish or some foreign race like that, and he’s clearly confused. You see, our homeowners’ covenant states that all yardwork must be done by minorities. No exceptions. Since he fits all categories, nobody has the guts to keep him out of his yard. I wish we could have kept him out of the neighborhood.
As I put the soiled towels back into the washer, I made a mental note to tell you all about my favorite cleaning product, Blood of Jesus Laundry Detergent. I’ve been using it for years, and you can find it at your local Christian bookstore, near the Testamints and the Host Toasties. Be stingy with the Blood. A little goes a long way –sometimes your dark clothing doesn’t need to be as white as snow.
Cleaning is for losers, and so is writing this column for you sinners to read. It’s horrible to get up each morning, knowing that other Loch Lloyd women are sunning by their pools, draining their first martinis of the day and reading their Bibles, while I have to dress down in last year’s fashions to visit you.
You don’t think I would wear REAL Prada to the slums of Kansas City, like the Plaza, do you? You pathetic urban dwellers. The sad things you all do to amuse yourselves, like watching gay swimmers starving themselves so they can parade half-naked for charity money. I’ve seen a few of the swimmers out here in the burbs at a local liposuction clinic, where I witness for Christ to the unsaved in the waiting room.
I was also unlucky enough to see circus freaks performing like rabid monkeys at the Fringe Festival. Don’t ask me about seeing chubby naked women dancing.
Some of you, like me, have been posting photos of exclusive parties on Facebook so that your not-invited friends can wither with envy when they see them. It’s sort of like poking a fishhook through a worm right before you throw it into the water to drown it. Facebook can be so fun!
With August’s arrival, we need to wrap up our summer activities. That means the lesbians will be golfing and playing softball so frequently that they’ll forget to shave their mustaches; the gay boys will still tan, harvest their heirloom tomatoes and start their holiday crochet projects.
All summer long, the boys ignore the girls, the girls ignore the boys, the gym bunnies ignore the nerds, the twinks ignore the retirees. And let’s not even get into ignoring people of other races, shall we? It’s a wonderful world when even the LGBT community acts like my adored Republican Party.
I do feel like I am a good influence on you miserable little sinners. My heart feels as clean as my laundry, and even that minority neighbor of mine doesn’t matter anymore. Jesus is Lord, you’re all going to hell, the Heartland Men’s Chorus and the Kansas City Women’s Chorus are still separate, and all is right with the world. God bless us, every one.
Things That Make Me Happy
Carrie Prejean, the dethroned Miss California, is the Republicans’ new spokesmodel, hired to recruit young voters. God bless her! She just signed a book deal with Regnery Publishing, which also publishes Ann Coulter, one of my bestest pals. We haven’t seen the last of Carrie, I promise!
Bruno makes a big skid mark at Hotel Phillips, right here in KC. We are not ready for gay humor, and this pervert’s movie is, God willing, going to fail. Praise Jesus!
At the end of July, an especially long solar eclipse darkened Asia, where millions of the unsaved were frightened. 2012 cannot get here soon enough for me. Get here soon, Jesus — I’ve got my bags packed!
A study coming out in the August 2009 issue of Tobacco Control shows that gay men and lesbians light up more cigarettes than heterosexual men and women. That means more of you LGBTs die from cancer. I need to stop smiling.
The journalist who put the word “liberal” in Media is dead. Walter Cronkite is to be buried here in KC, and I’ll be starring in a Fox News special as I dance on his grave. I do so love it when heathens leave the earth.

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