Chicks, Man

So, I made the mistake of tuning in for an hour of Glenn "Not-Yet-Caught Predator" Beck's television programme the other day. Surreal the way he posits theories but then comes back with, Whoa, whoa, whoa I didn't say that. I was only asking the questions. He doesn't posit facts, then criticizes people -- wait for it -- for not positing facts. It's the Vol. 2009 of the age-old, "Senator, do you have any comment for those who say you beat your wife?" turning into a "Senator denies wife battery" story.
Irresponsible, sure. But oddly entertaining. In fact, I've encorporated his approach onto my Twitter page. For example:

I'm not saying Glenn Beck injected Michael Jackson with Propofol (or anything else) at a recent NAMBLA meeting. I'm just asking questions.

Or:

I'm not saying Glenn Beck is stitching an entire Size 14 lady suit down in the basement with his pooch Precious. I'm just asking questions.

Hey, I didn't say Glenn Beck was Jame Gumb or Dr. Conrad Murray, did I? I didn't.
Just like how I didn't say freshman Republican U.S. Rep. Lynn Jenkins of Kansas is the KKK's Crossburner of the Year for seeking her "great white hope" to stop Obama in his tracks.

And just like how I didn't say that if Madonna wanted to ensure equal rights for Gypsies, she'd adopt a whole bloodline of them, and perform mating-season rituals or just give them money so they had equal homes, at the very least.