Free The New New Rules: A Funny Look at How Everybody but Me Has Their Head Up Their Ass by Bill Maher

hair could smile, it would look like this. And most important, it’s hair that says, “You will never, ever find me snorting meth with a gay hooker.”

HAMPER PROOF
     
    New Rule: If the doctor makes you take off your clothes, he has to provide somewhere to put your clothes. It’s bad enough I have to sit in this cold exam room wearing a paper dress; I also have to cradle all my clothes in my arms like I’m boarding the train to Auschwitz. You’ve got a million dollars’ worth of equipment in there, Doc—how about a hook on the wall. Yes, I could pile my clothes on top of the hazardous-waste container, or the table where dozens of men get their prostate exams every day, but on second thought . . . I’ll just hold them.
    LEVI ON A JET PLANE
     
    New Rule: If we can’t, after all is said and done, make this election go the right way, at least we can save one man. I’m talking about young Master Levi Johnston. He’s the eighteen-year-old Alaskan hockey enthusiast who knocked up Sarah Palin’s daughter, and the National Enquirer describes him as “a boozing pot-smoker who doesn’t want to get married”—and John McCain thinks he found his soul mate!
    We’ve all seen how evil henchmen of the Republican party captured this poor innocent out of his natural habitat and forced him into a shotgun engagement because when the seventeen-year-old daughter of the vice presidential candidate is “out to here,” it’s just better that Levi was introduced as the “fiancé.” Looks a little less white-trashy.
    But that doesn’t change the fact that Levi is America’s number-one political prisoner. But, Levi, you don’t have to be—this is the twenty-first century, at least in the blue states. You don’t have to do this—you have options. You can pull a Juno —fuck, you live in Juneau! Or you could do what most people do with an unwanted child: Give it to Angelina Jolie.
    And if you’re worried about the baby, don’t. Let’s get real, dude, the way you are at eighteen, a baby’s better off not being around you—you’ll wind up losing it, or shooting it, or it’ll be on the bottom of your skate or something. Just let the Palin womenfolk look after it for a while. One more infant in that Mormon compound they call a house won’t bother anybody—they’ll barely notice another kid at the table, and soon they won’t even remember whose seed it was that produced young Trink or Truck or Puck, or whatever fucked-up redneck name they give him.
    In any event, we here at Real Time have taken the liberty of purchasing the website FreeLevi.org . It’s yours if you want to use it to get folks to contribute to some sort of liberty fund so you can get enough money to get out of that frozen meth lab they call a town. And even if the money doesn’t come in, it’s not too late: Just grab your skull bong, climb out the window, and get on the highway. I can’t actually come get you, or even let you stay at my place, because I’m pretty sure you’d smoke all my weed, but just call me from a pay phone, I know of a safe house you can stay in till after the election; it’s like the witness protection program for baby daddies.
    And remember, Levi: California knows how to party. Trust me, the girls out here are going to love a big, high-sticking farm boy like you. If you play your cards right, in a couple weeks you could be screwing the lesbian right out of Lindsay Lohan.
     
     
    —September 19, 2008
     

HANNIBAL LECTURE
     
    New Rule: Stop making horror movies with Anthony Hopkins. I’m not afraid of any evil I can evade by taking the stairs two at a time. Anthony Hopkins was a great young Shakespearean actor. Just ask Shakespeare. But if I wanted a movie where an eighty-year-old made my blood run cold, I’d rent Sex and the City II.

HARD RIGHT
     
    New Rule: The next Republican National Convention must be held in a giant closet. Every week there’s a new gay Republican outed. I have a feeling that “big tent”