Dear Penthouse Forum

Dear Penthouse Forum,

Oh, I love them Neo-Conservatives. Oh, yes. I love them. Crazy right-wing chicks. Nothing lights my fire like a girl who digs smaller government. They drive me mad. Republican. Oh, say it. Re-pub-lic-an. The word is red and smutty, like a lipstick print on a cocktail napkin. Red and smutty like a high-necked, Nancy Reagan dress. Republican. Oh, it rolls off the tongue: Republican. Re. Pub. Lick. Can.

I always thought the Young Republicans meeting would be the place for wild women in favor of states’ rights to hang out. I just didn’t know that I’d be so lucky as to find a night of wild passion there myself. This past week, Ann Coulter came to the meeting to spend an hour or two bashing liberals and their tax-and-spend methodology. I had to loosen my tie because the speech got me so riled up. I was in the mood and on the prowl. Luckily for me, my prey was well within my sight.

My opening line was a shoo-in: “Hey, you know Rush Limbaugh? Well, I’d like to Rush you out of here to give my limb a workout.” After we compared tax returns and portfolios, she invited me back to her place. I didn’t want to admit it then, but her portfolio was so diverse, I almost lost it in my pants right there. When we got back to her place, I knew immediately that it would be a night of wild, freaky sex. She had a huge picture of Ronald Reagan over her fireplace and The Wall Street Journal sat on the table. Next thing, she took out her Capitol Hills. Before I knew it, we were naked, rolling on top of that Wall Street Journal. She took me to places I’d never been before, while she purred into my ear about how blacks and gays and poor people were ruining the country. She cooed about illegal immigrants and how they were a blight on our economy. Oh, that whets my whistle. Rrrrr. Oh, I wanted to get it on Fox-style. Oh, yes. Oh, let’s argue the merits of a free-market economy. Oh. Oh. Oh Reilly Factor. Oh yes. Spin my zone, baby. Oh, I want that Grand Old P____.

Then, she whispered the two words that never fail to take me to the top of my climax: “Trickle down.”

After we were done, she clicked on the TV and we watched Fox News before we went at it, again and again, all night long. We get together every month now to do a little Patriot Act of our own.

Yours,
Neo-Con in New York

Dear Neo,

Wow! Sounds like your “Grand Ol’ Peter” had a “Grand Ol’ Party.” Let us know the next time you have another National Review.

— PF