In the last 32 days of 2010, Dana Rohrabacher's congressional campaign committee raised $3,400 and his wife, Rhonda, took $5,387 from it for the family under the theory that she is her husband's campaign manager, according to the Federal Election Commission.
I'm not knocking Rhonda for converting federal campaign contributions directly into personal income even though taxpayers already give them $174,000 in annual base salary plus incredibly generous perks.
If you ask me, she deserves much more just for living with the creepy congressman, who first campaigned for public office in 1988 by backing the righteousness of congressional term limits of no more than three two-year stints in Washington, D.C.
Decades later, Rohrabacher won't likely mention term limits when he hosts a "fun-raiser" this afternoon in hopes of grabbing his 25th and 26th years in the House of Representatives.
To help draw a crowd, the Costa Mesa Republican invited perpetually angry blogger Andrew Breitbart, a board member of GOProud, a new gay political group for conservatives.
Dana, does your homophobic pal Rev. Lou Sheldon of the Traditional Values Coalition know about this?
In the invitation to the event, the congressman describes Breitbart, who does not believe in God, as a "patriot blogger hero."
Wherefore art thou, Lou?
Though the price of admission to the 3 p.m. event at Skosh Monahan's Irish Pub is a $250 campaign contribution for a couple or $150 for an individual, feel free to stuff cash into Rohrabacher's pocket. Why not? It's going to end up there anyway.
The congressman skipped Vietnam War duty but nowadays--long after he'd have to serve in the military--hails himself as a "patriot" who is "fighting for freedom and having fun!"
R. Scott Moxley’s award-winning investigative journalism has touched nerves for two decades. An angry congressman threatened to break Moxley’s knee caps. A dirty sheriff promised his critical reporting was irrelevant and then landed in prison. Corporate crooks won’t take his calls. Murderous gangsters mad-dogged him in court. The U.S. House of Representatives debated his work. Pusillanimous cops have left hostile messages using fake names. Federal prosecutors credited his stories for the arrest of a doctor who sold fake medicine to dying patients. And a frantic state legislator literally caught sleeping with lobbyists sprinted down state capital hallways to evade his questions in Sacramento.