Y’know . . . I hate to disappoint my Christian voting block brethren, but I’d vote for any of the GOP guys, or their wives, or their chunky step son, or their one eyed three legged dog named Hooch, or their obnoxious aunt Maria (Y’know . . . the one with a mustache) rather than have to watch, listen and live with Hillary in the Whitehouse barking orders down to us serfs.

Screeeeeew that.

Listen, my persnickety friends on the Right: You can bust a nut over the various serious and not so serious foibles and philosophies of Rudy, Romney, Fred and John, but for moi the Republican gentleman who gets our party’s nod, whoever he is, will get my vote come November ‘08.

Why?

Well it’s simple.

I’ve already had enough of Hillary. I’m sick of seeing that chick. Forget her communistic bent, her virulent anti-Americanisms and her anti-Christian crapola. I simply don’t want to see or hear anything more from her ever again. She’s become the OJ of DC to me (i.e. way too much of her mug and machinations on my TV).

I’m tanked. I’ve had enough. I’m gonna vomit. The OJ comparison was a bad analogy though, eh? There were only two people who died around The Juice. I believe the Clintons have around 40 plus and counting who have mysteriously dropped dead around them. Anyway, back to my angst with Hillary.

Yes, Ms. Clinton has been an uninvited guest in my life for far too long. I cannot imagine having to stomach her and her blah blah blah for another decade. Another %$#@&% decade?!? Argh! Please God . . . don’t let it happen! I swear I’ll be good . . . I wont cuss anymore . . . I’ll up my tithe. C’mon Yahweh. Show some love.

Seriously, I experience physical pain when I see her. Yep, when she queues up and starts her soulless, monotonous monologues about how she wants to trash our nation like Mickey Rourke is doing his liver, I get that same feeling that I had the other day after I ate that last bean burrito that had been under a heat lamp for 37 hours at the Chevron gas station.

My aversion to Hillary has even made me sympathetic to Bill. I guarantee Bill’s ability to empathize with the oppressed and feel other’s pain stems from living within the bellowing crucible of being betrothed to Hillary and thus a forty year receptor of the blunt end of her pool cue. He probably wants her to become President so she will just shut up and become real busy so he can get a fresh crack at some DC interns, baby.

Having said that, I really don’t want to see Bill again unless it’s at an anti-Hillary rally after he’s been freshly divorced from Rodham, he and Monica have gotten back together, and he’s smoking a big fat stogie down here on Lincoln Road.

Now, speaking as a man who lives in the God blessed testosterone fog, let me help you marketing clods out on the Left: If you want the nation to buy what you’re selling you have to get rid of the mean old madam brigade. Your lasses are not only woefully wrong from a policy standpoint, but they are all so very Rosie O’Donnellish.

None of my liberal male friends down here in Miami are even remotely excited about voting for Hillary and having her shrill backside wielding a whiny scepter over the United States. If they wanted that they’d go home to their yarbling liberal wives.

Look, I understand you liberals’ supposed need for change . . . to get a woman in the office and yada yada . . . but you guys have gotta try to work with us. Throw us a bone. The first Clinton movie sucked, and no one wants a sequel. Especially if Hillary’s the lead actor.

And by the way, since you don’t have a Thatcher or a Rice amongst you to put forth, how about a liberal woman who’s pretty and nice who won’t kill your cat if she doesn’t happen to like you?