"It's September 11th all over again except we didn't have the collapsing buildings"

Eric Cantor came to this world in a cracked pipkin and said, "The Mortar at least is mine." And in this Mortar he mixes, and titrates with Glenn Beck's pestle, some of his fantasy and insight.

If I say the glass is shattered, if these be of putridenous mixture, if the contents are excellent and my water bowl on the kitchen floor is cracked, then the ooze won't smell of ambergris and musk.

"I can conceive of a power," Eric Cantor says, "which can create a beautiful parti-colored sunflower from the 2,074-page 'Affordable Health Care for America Act' that is being shoved down the throat of Americans who want to start over from a clean sheet of paper and take a step-by-step approach without rationing care or empowering government bureaucrats at the expense of patients and doctors. It shall be yours if you come. It's the best cell in the hermitage."

Glenn Beck struck the window in a downward direction, landing on the floor about a foot from the Wastebasket Enemy Combatant. "It's September 11 all over again except we didn't have the collapsing buildings," he said. "We need God more than ever.

Eric Cantor measured the kleptomaniac Sarah Palin's ankle. In recognition of his favor, she made a plush tobacco bag on which the name "Eric Cantor" was worked in gold threads, and sent it to him wrapped in a silk handkerchief.

"I do not confess in private," Eric Cantor said, "and cannot sleep within doors. I offered one of these wafers to my donkey and he would not eat it. I felt insulted, and never after did I pilfer a wafer."

The boys in the congregation tittered gleefully. John Boehner descended into the vineyard with dried figs in a blue kerchief. He walked among the crowd. He peeped every fortnight into the village to keep up, at least, his practice of human speech.

This larva is a flickering taper under a bushel. In the corner, three petroleum cans containing provisions. Nearby, an old pair of shoes in which are stuck a few candles, a handful of figs, and a pinch of incense which John Boehner gives us as a token of his love and blessing.