Here’s the title of their hysterical 2,300 word response to the announcement of Andrew’s new association with GOProud:

After Promoting Anti-Gay Rhetoric, Breitbart is Named to Gay Group’s Board

And what have endless hours of Senior Fellowing through two full years of Big Hollywood writings dug up?

Rep. Frank Should “Stop Phoning Every Number He Finds Scrawled On Bathroom Walls.”

Could someone please explain to to those with the Indian name Abusers of 501(c)(3), the difference between criticizing grotesquely offensive behavior unbecoming of a congressman (a brothel was run out of Frank’s house by his former boyfriend) and anti-anything?

Regardless, I congratulate Andrew on his new appointment and look forward to meeting and partying with and welcoming to our Big Tent, all the GOProuders attending this year’s CPAC.

By raw statistics, that would indicate over a quarter of the entertainment business is Republican. Now it could just be that Republicans are more generous.  Democrats are notoriously cheaper than a Barney Frank ferry ride. Al Gore spent more money on harassable masseuses than he gives to charity. Bill Clinton’s idea of charity is giving away used underwear (though in fairness, some of the clothing he soiled is now considered museum quality). Joe Biden spends more on polishing his tooth marks out of his shoes than he routinely gives away.

Democrats are as hypocritical as Leonardo DiCaprio’s private jet. They talk all the time about the uncaring rich not helping the poor, but come tax time, the charitable giving recorded on their Schedule As is dwarfed by their mortgage interest on their luxurious abodes. Democrats think their public service and undying support of a powerful state is tantamount to charity.

Perhaps showbiz Republicans give more, since their money says the words they can’t speak at work. When you have to put in eight-plus hours alongside people who can’t hold back their opinions about the ignorant bigoted tea-bagging Republicans, you’re bound to come home and take revenge with your checkbook.

Or maybe we just have more to spend. Usually people don’t discover Republicanism until they’re in the upper tax bracket. It’s strange how money looks from the other side of the fence. I know a comedian who once had a line about nobody needing more than three million dollars a year, that any dime you make above three million should be confiscated, because if you CAN’T make it on three million dollars a year, you’re an idiot and don’t deserve it anyway.

The last time I saw him joking about a maximum wage I knew he had made good, because he was now claiming that nobody needed more than $150 million a year. I’m glad that he’s doing well for himself, and he’s learned that three million dollars is not as much as a starving artist might imagine. Especially in show biz, where 25% is taken straight off the top, before the IRS and the State of Wherever-You-Unpack-Your-Suitcase get their share.

But I truly suspect that the amount of Republicans in the industry is far underestimated. Democrats just tend to be louder so it appears like there are more of them.  Here at Big Hollywood, there are only a handful of showbiz types who have revealed themselves. I think more need to come out of the attic, at least for the inner peace they will find. It isn’t healthy for everyone to keep their opinions locked up inside.

I say come out of your hiding places everyone. I think there are more of us out here than anyone can imagine. It’s really liberating to no longer pretend that the economy is in great shape, and the President is competent. And the next time your co-worker claims that at least He’s not as bad as Bush, remind them that a four percent unemployment and a deficit under a trillion dollars would be a welcome relief right about now.

When you factor in that Barack Obama is my president, Joe Biden is my vice-president, Nancy Pelosi is next in line, Dianne Feinstein and Barbara Boxer are my senators, Brad Sherman is my congressman, Antonio Villaraigosa is my mayor and Jerry Brown is lurking in the wings to be my governor, do you really think I’ll be turning my pen into a plowshare anytime soon?    

But at least now you might have a better handle on why I look back so fondly on what I have come to regard as the good old days when an American’s major complaint was that he had taxation without representation. 

On top of everything else, I live in Los Angeles and have spent most of my adult life laboring in Hollywood, a place that some people regard as less an actual location than a state of mind.  I agree it is a state of mind in the same sense that paranoia and schizophrenia are states of mind. 

After working in the field of entertainment for about 40 years, I swear to you that there are a fair number of normal, decent human beings who work in the industry.  But truth compels me to say that the lower you go in the pecking order, the likelier you are to find them.  That’s not to say that every producer, actor, director and writer, is an arrogant, leftwing, coke-snorting, bottom-feeding egomaniac, but that’s certainly the way to bet. 

Sometimes, when I’m daydreaming about what Hell must be like, I envision a place where every day you wake up and have to go work for someone like Barney Frank, Nancy Pelosi and Harry Reid, nasty sourpusses who think that their every whim should be immediately pandered to and who regard themselves as God, but with a bigger expense account, a larger staff and a better pension plan. 

In short, Pelosi, Frank and Reid and their congressional cronies, could find true happiness working at a TV network, a movie studio or a theatrical agency.  Perhaps you think I’m making this up, but I’m not.  Liberal politicians are doing their best to shove Obamacare down our throats, pretending it’s manna from Heaven, but you may have noticed that they haven’t the slightest intention of leaving their own medical care up to a lottery system.  And can you really blame them?  Do you think Pelosi wants a bunch of strangers deciding if she can get another dozen face lifts?  You think Robert Byrd wants to leave it up to a death panel to determine if it’s time to put the old Ku Kluxer on an ice floe? 

You could call them hypocrites, but I call them Hollywood hopefuls.  They’d fit right in.  This is the town, after all, where people are still whining over the fact that a handful of mediocre actors and hack writers were blacklisted 60 years ago because they were, for the most part, unrepentant Communists whose allegiance was to the evil Soviet Union.  But these same people think nothing of blacklisting writers and directors who have done nothing worse than made the fatal mistake of turning 50. 

Many years ago, radio wit Fred Allen observed that “You can take all the sincerity in Hollywood, stick it in the navel of a flea, and still have room left over for two caraway seeds and an agent’s heart.”  I say he was being too kind.  Although I regard myself as basically a loyal person, I’ve had about two dozen agents in my life.  What’s more, in what was a moderately successful TV writing career, by getting my own jobs, I made money for all of them, except the last one.  Which was just as well because she’s the one who went to the slammer for stealing her clients’ money.

 The reason, by the way, I kept leaving agents wasn’t simply because none of them ever earned his or her 10%, but because eventually they all lied to me about what they would do for me or, worse yet, what they had already done. 

In my experience, agents are people who like to have lunch, shmooze with other agents and con young women into having sex with them.  Those are the male agents, of course.  Female agents, on the other hand, like to have lunch, shmooze with other agents and con young women into having sex with them. 

In other words, if a genie somehow managed to switch everyone in Hollywood with everyone in Congress, you would barely notice it.  In fact, aside from the fact that the paparazzi would all have to pack up and move east and that “Henry Waxman: The Musical!” would finally be green-lighted at Universal, life would go on as usual.

Still, every now and then some elitist hack with a degree from the right college and the proper connections gets a job at a failing weekly magazine and decides to take a shot at you and your profession, feeling they are qualified to judge this art form because they know how to laugh and talk. This is rarely if ever done with other art forms. Seriously folks, when is the last time you saw an article about actors who can’t act, dancers who can’t dance, painters who can’t paint or pointless “performance artists.” Yet, about every six months some “critic” declares a number of famous comics “not funny.”   

Ms. Sarah Ball of the soon defunct Newsweek is the latest to declare some great comics “not funny.” In her article she lists 12 acts and gives snarky put downs of their talents. I found it interesting that Ms. Ball’s list is mostly west coast, politically conservative/moderate comics. Apparently if you are from New York and ultra-liberal Ms. Ball finds you hilarious!

Topping her list is every elitist favorite comedy punching bag Larry the Cable Guy. Larry’s sin seems to be he is a little too lowbrow for Ms. Ball, whom I am sure worships at the altar of urinator Larry David, and christophobe Sarah Silverman. There are a couple of folks working at the top of the intellectual chart. When talking about Dane Cook (I admit, not my favorite) she heaps praise on Louis C.K. (a guy I happen to also enjoy) who also tends towards the scatological for his humor.

Here is another thing that annoys me worst than Barney Frank, several times Ms. Ball demeans comics for being less than original and yet in her writing she uses a number of “stock” lines, clichés and banal comments. She also works for a magazine which recently selected a cover picture of Sarah Palin that was borrowed from a shoot for another magazine and used without contextual reference.

Ms. Ball also apparently hasn’t seen some of the comics she lists in some time. For Emo Phillips she uses an outdated photo, (again Newsweek using a photo out of context!) and critiques the vocal and delivery style he was using in the 90’s. Artists grow and change Ms. Ball; you might want to catch Bob Goldthwaite sometime this century too!  Her total critique of Jeff Dunham is that he is a ventriloquist, a comedy form she declared “went out of vogue in the Eisenhower era.” So did unbiased journalism and accurate reporting, Ms. Ball, but I’ll save that for another blog. Ventriloquism is experiencing a great revival outside elitist circles with Ronn Lucas and Terry Fator being two of the top draws in Las Vegas. While Jay Johnson, Jeff Dunham and Dan Horn wow audiences across the country. It might do Ms. Ball good to get out of Manhattan once in awhile and see what us rubes are doing out here in Flyoverland.

There are a lot of comics who I don’t find funny but I realize that my taste in comedy is skewered by my values, faith, politics and a number of other factors. I would never declare Bill Maher “not funny.” Though I find his drug addled ramblings repulsive at times, I realize that a number of equally intelligent folks find him hysterical. I might say I find his humor “baffling” or call him an “alleged” comedian but to declare him “not funny” isn’t fair to Bill or his fans.

People like different things, that’s why they put numbers on horses at the track. I would expect an open and fair minded progressive person like Ms. Ball to be a little more…what’s that word? Tolerant!

I’d also appreciate it if Sean Hannity would wake up to the fact that a lot of us change the channel the second that Bob Beckel shows up on the Great American Panel.

On the other hand, I wish that merely as an experiment a dozen or so liberals could be forced to watch Glenn Beck for an entire week. I would be dying to know how they would react after watching videos of Obama, Rahm Emanuel, Cass Sunstein, Anita Dunn, Andy Stern and John Holdren spouting off when they think nobody outside the room will hear about their plans to transform America.  They would have made Dr. Frankenstein blanch but put a smile on Karl Marx’s ugly mug.

Back in 1990, the police raided Barney Frank’s home because his lover, Steve Gobie, was running a male prostitution ring out of his condo. In 2007, the police raided the home of James Ready and arrested him for possession of marijuana. Ready, who is Barney’s main squeeze these days, didn’t just smoke the weed, Farmer Ready was growing the stuff. The congressman was there at the time of the raid but denied he had any idea that those plants in the backyard weren’t rhododendrons. I believe he told the police that he was perfectly clueless when it came to plant life. I guess, like Clinton, he too never inhaled.

Because I am always prepared to grant a liberal politician the benefit of the doubt, I’m sure it’s only a coincidence that Barney has long led the fight to decriminalize the use and sale of the narcotic.

Finally, I understand why so many folks are eager to impeach the president, but that obviously isn’t going to happen. Unfortunately, being a Red and despising America isn’t an impeachable offense. However, there’s nothing to prevent people from gathering signatures in order to recall their arrogant representatives.

I suggest we begin with every single one of those ACORN-loving crumbs who voted for the stimulus bill, cash for clunkers, and ObamaCare.

If their voting against the best interests of present-day American taxpayers, not to mention future generations, isn’t reason enough to throw the bums out, I can’t imagine what would be.

As with the weather, or at least the way it used to be with the weather prior to Al Gore’s turning it into his personal ATM, everyone complains about incumbents, but nobody does anything about them.

First off, I’d like to know why the 535 members of Congress have to congregate in Washington, D.C.  As Dick Morris and Eileen McGann made perfectly clear in “Fleeced,” they don’t do very much in the nation’s capitol that they couldn’t do just as well or just as badly if they stayed home in their bathrobes.  Half the time, the sessions are devoted to naming post offices and other equally earth-shattering events. 

So far as I can tell, the actual motives are to allow senators and representatives to have fiefdoms both in Washington and in their own state or district; to make things more convenient for lobbyists – one-stop shopping, as it were; and to keep our representatives as far away as possible from their constituents. 

I keep hearing commercials for teleconferencing systems and I think they’re worth a try.  With my plan, there is even an advantage for the politicians because they wouldn’t have to waste time and money flying back and forth.  What’s more, they wouldn’t have to spend all that extra dough sending their kids to private schools, thus ensuring that their offspring be spared having to attend public schools in Washington, D.C.  You know, those schools that politicians are always raving about when they’re out seeking campaign contributions from the Teacher’s Union, the ones where liberal candidates pose for photo ops during presidential campaigns. 

My second question is how it was that of the 56 men who signed the Declaration of Independence, only 24 were lawyers or jurists, but of the current 100 senators, 60 are lawyers?  While it’s true that there are slightly more than a million lawyers in America, that is less than one percent of the adult population.  So how is it that 60% of the U.S. Senate and slightly over 30% of the House members, in addition to their party affiliation, are entitled to put Esq. after their name? 

I believe the problem is two-fold.  One, it’s just too easy and too much fun being a politician; two, it’s just too hard and not enough fun being a lawyer.  If people enjoyed being lawyers more, they wouldn’t be so darn eager to run off to Albany, Sacramento, Springfield, Atlanta or Washington, D.C.  Frankly, I don’t know how to make the practice of law a more exciting career.  So, instead, I think it behooves us to come up with ways to make politics a less attractive option.  The one notion that popped into my head was to take a leaf out of the Aztec playbook and initiate human sacrifices.  Would any of us really have strong objections to Nancy Pelosi, Harry Reid, Barbara Boxer, Arlen Spector, Susan Collins, Henry Waxman, Charles Schumer, Olympia Snowe, Chris Dodd and Barney Frank, being offered up to pacify the angry spirits of the Founding Fathers? 

My final question is, why, in 2009 America, are mulattoes invariably identified as blacks?  Surely there is nothing wrong with being a mulatto.  There is no stigma attached, as once there was.  It merely refers to those who have one white parent and one black.  There are many notable individuals who are mulattoes, including Halle Berry, Derek Jeter, Lisa Bonet and Barack Obama.  Tiger Woods, on the other hand, is a true amalgamation, being one-quarter Chinese, one-quarter Thai, one-quarter black, one-eighth Native American and one-eighth Dutch.  And, yet, with the possible exception of the New York Yankee shortstop, we insist on identifying all of them as black. 

It’s as if there is something shameful about their being half or even one-eighth white.  If there is, I’d sure like to know what it is.  If, on the other hand, there isn’t, why do we insist on acting as if there were?

Boneheads would have you believe my opposition to Obama is based on racism.  I, on the other hand, would insist that when a presidential candidate announces that once his energy plan is in place, our energy costs will soar; that he will bury you if you have the temerity to own a coal company; and that he believes, as he told Joe the Plumber, that it is government’s job to re-distribute wealth, what does race have to do with it?  I hated all that stuff back when it was being promoted by such white con artists as Karl Marx, Josef Stalin and Saul Alinsky.

Furthermore, the way that blacks and other liberals label everyone they’re against as racists, I think conservatives should start suing these punks for slander.  Make them either prove it in court or pay through the nose.

Obama would have you believe that anyone who doesn’t buy into his squandering trillions of dollars on pork, his cap & trade insanity or his attempt to turn America’s health care over to such left-wing loonies as Nancy Pelosi, John Conyers and Henry Waxman, is a racist.  It’s the-one-size-fits-all insult.

When people insisted that Obama was an enigma, I assumed they just hadn’t been paying attention.  In his own words, he described his coming of age politically in college when he’d begun seeking out Marxist professors for instruction, and radicals, Communists and Third World activists for companionship.

It’s funny how years ago, everybody laughed when Bill Clinton said he’d smoked marijuana, but he hadn’t inhaled.  But when Obama told a much bigger whopper, one that came with cheese and fries, about sitting in a church for 20 years without ever hearing Rev. Wright utter a single unseemly remark about America or white people, I seemed to be one of the few people who found it amusing.

Even the fact that Obama chose to marry a woman who, in her college thesis, wrote that Princeton served as a perfect microcosm of racist America, tells you something about the man.

When Obama, a veteran of Chicago’s gutter politics, dismissed any connection to the likes of Tony Rezko, Bill Ayers and Bernadine Dohrn, I could hardly stop laughing.  Those on the Left predictably started flapping their gums about McCarthyism, insisting that whenever conservatives bring up guilt by association, it’s a sure sign the accused is as pure as the driven snow.  Which is a lot of hooey.  If it’s a sure sign of anything, it’s that the accused is an unrepentant Red who longs for the days of gulags and the KGB.  Guilt by association happens to be one of the surest signs of guilt there is.  There is, after all, a reason that felons on parole aren’t allowed to hang out with other felons.  There is a reason that your granny was likely to point out that if you lie down with dogs, you were very likely to rise up with fleas.

There are conservatives who see FDR when they look at Obama, but I’m not one of them.  There’s no doubt that Obama shares FDR’s dream of centralizing all power and wealth in the hands of the federal government, and whereas FDR liked and admired Joseph Stalin, Obama has fond feelings for Castro and Chavez.  (Chavez, by the way, suggested to Castro, after Obama took control of GM, that there was a very real possibility that the two of them would eventually wind up to the right of the President.  He may have meant it as a joke, but I don’t think so.)  The major difference I see between Roosevelt and Obama is that I believe FDR, for all his faults, loved this country and regarded it as a special place based on a very special set of principles, whereas Obama believes it’s an arrogant country run solely by and for rich white people.

But, of course, by this time, even lunkheads who managed to sleep all the way through 2008 should be able to figure out that, as president, Obama hasn’t changed his colors, but only his address.  His circle of acquaintances has certainly widened, but it hasn’t improved.  All you have to do is look at the thugs in ACORN and the SEIU, at people like self-proclaimed Communist Van Jones, who serves as one of Obama’s czars, and Jeff Jones, another close advisor, who joined with Bill Ayers in creating the terrorist group known as the Weathermen.

And, lest we forget, Attorney General Holder, who has now decided to prosecute members of the CIA whose gravest sin was doing what needed to be done to protect America from a recurrence of 9/11, but decided to drop all charges against the Black Panther pluguglies who disenfranchised white voters by scaring them away from the polls.  For anyone who knows the history of the anti-slavery movement in America, it’s certainly ironic that these days blacks are in the business of intimidating Republicans on behalf of their Democratic masters.  Ironic and more than a little bit disgusting.

By now, I’m sure you’re aware that there’s a concerted effort to get Glenn Beck

knocked off FOX by scaring off his sponsors.  Even though I’m a fan of his and even though I believe in free speech, I have no problem with Americans trying to generate boycotts of goods and services.  For instance, I happen to be all in favor of boycotting Scotland for sending Abdel Basset al-Megrahi back to a hero’s welcome in Libya, so there will be no shillelaghs, tams or bagpipes on my Christmas shopping list this year. 

Still, before we get too big for our moral britches, we should keep in mind that whereas one football player got two years for merely shooting himself in the leg, another served a scant 18 months for hanging, beating, drowning and electrocuting, a large number of dogs.  Therefore, I have no moral objection to ColorOfChange, a black activist group co-founded by that very same Van Jones, from threatening to boycott companies that dared to sponsor Beck’s TV show.

But, I think it should be noted that the guy who currently runs ColorOfChange is James Rucker.  Mr. Rucker formerly worked for MoveOn.org, a left-wing propaganda organ financed largely by George Soros, yet another ex-con in Obama’s inner circle.  Soros is also the fellow who offered to help his own mother commit suicide.  While it’s true that she was a member of the Hemlock Society, it certainly helps explain why Soros thinks so highly of Obama’s approach to revolutionizing health care for seniors in America.

If anyone questions my use of “left-wing propaganda organ” to describe MoveOn.org, let me just say that when I paid a recent visit to their website, the first thing I saw was a picture of an old man holding a sign that read: “83% of Americans Favor Obamacare.”  God knows I rarely quibble with my elders — and hope that, impressed with my shining example, those people younger than 69 won’t quibble with me — but unless there was very tiny print on the sign and what it actually said was, “83% of Americans who belong to MoveOn.org Favor Obamacare” or “83% of Americans Who Are in George Soros’s Will Favor Obamacare,” that’s a bald-faced lie.  Actually, if you reversed the eight and the three, you’d be far closer to the truth.

As I was saying, ColorOfChange has every right to try to persuade companies to withhold their advertising dollars from Glenn Beck.  In the same way, there’s nothing to prevent all of you from withholding your own dollars from the likes of Proctor & Gamble, Sargento Cheese, S.C. Johnson, Men’s Wearhouse, Lawyers.com, GEICO and State Farm Insurance, and letting them know what you think of companies that allow themselves to be intimidated by a small group of nasty, self-righteous radicals.  (I have been told by a reliable source that there are four or five other companies that have knuckled under, but I’ve been unable to identify them.  It’s telling, though, that ColorOfChange keeps insisting that they got over 30 companies to turn tail, even though most of those they’ve named never sponsored Beck’s show or anything else on FOX.)

Finally, I could hardly believe my ears when Barney Frank told a woman at his town hall meeting that arguing with her would be like arguing with his dining room table.  His usual arrogance and bad manners aside, I would actually pay good money to see Barney Frank debate his dining room table.  What’s more, I’d give odds and take the table.

Now, I am not saying this crackpot was a plant – I’ll leave that to Barbara Boxer. But the provocation was. You could practically see Barney winding up for the pitch, and he even acknowledged the Obama flyer she was carrying. See, he knew where this was going – it was a chance for him to shine with a well-rehearsed line. So while the media paints this as brave Barney standing up to white, racist Obama-haters who’ve hijacked the health care debate – to me he’s Lebron James slam-dunking Steven Hawking.

Worse, but not surprising, the wooly bully used this sad creature as a pawn to undermine potential for actual dialogue. He focused on the crazy, as if to say, “only those who question Obama are nuts.”

How, funny, just weeks earlier, you’d be called racist.

I guess this is called progress.

Tonight we’ve got Kimberly Guilfoyle, Jim Norton, Andrew Breitbart, and Kurt Loder!

Somehow, I knew he was going to be disappointed.