Ding-dong, the Pillsbury Turd Blossom Is … Going Dove Hunting?

Dove hunting.

Considering what doves represent, isn't that one big doughy metaphor that pretty much covers his entire career as George Bush's gray matter? And if you haven't yet heard, Rove is finally on his way out.

It's a clever strategy, really, this pre-emptive scamper, lest Plamegate or Gonzogate catch up with him, thus denying the satisfaction to the people he's hurt the most to witness , well, something that might look like that overplayed picture over there.

And while we're on the subject of Rove, I must have snoozed through this news. If you scroll to the end of this Rove departure piece from 365gay.com, you'll see a few nuggets alluding to Rove's gay dad. This story hit the shelves last fall in the book, The Architect: Karl Rove and the Master Plan for Absolute Power by James Moore and Wayne Slater. Rove apparently wanted the news of gay dad taken out.

Dang. It feels like an epiphany, sort of. A very blurry, confusing epiphany. Pulling queers and gay marriage out of his bright white ass and serving them on a platter the way a caddy might yank a wedge out of Tiger Wood's golf bag: It all seems to make so much more sense. Troubling. Hilary Rosen from the Huffington Post puts her finger on this cloudy confusion.

On a side note, I'm hoping for a call back to learn if the cocky bastard ever paid up on this gambling debt.

Stay tuned.