groovin with Ron

Ron. He's your ideal presidential candidate and he's with the Ronatarian Party. With his running mate, Brad, they are an unstoppable political force.

April 12, 2017

Pearls Before Ron

Pearls Before Ron

Is cartoonist Stephan Pastis a fan of Ron? You bet your life he is! How else can one explain his April 12, 2017 "Pearls Before Swine" comic?

OK, he didn't draw any of his characters with mustaches, but that's how he keeps his love for Ron on the down-low.

Keep an eye out for for other A-list celebrities supporting Ron in the future. "In Ron We Trust."

- Bittle

Posted by Bittle at 08:49 AM

March 17, 2017


Saint Patrick was a gentleman,
Who through strategy and stealth,
Drove all the snakes from Ireland,
Here’s a toasting to his health.
But not too many toastings
Lest you lose yourself and then
Forget the good Saint Patrick
And see all those snakes again.

"Beannachtam na Feile Padraig!"

Happy St. Patrick's Day from Ron!

Posted by Bittle at 05:00 AM

February 27, 2017



Jersey City, New Jersey, February 27, 2017:

Jersey City Police answered a strange call from Ronatarian Party founder and leader Ron early Sunday morning that has them howling at the moon. According to police reports, Ron was bitten by his roommate's dog, but thought the sharp pain was something else.

Apparently, Ron's #2 Brad asked the repeatedly failed presidential candidate to dogsit while Brad went to Key West over the weekend. While heavily intoxicated in his home (alone), Ron felt a sharp pain in his buttocks. Having forgotten that Snookums was in his room led to Ron thinking he had been shot by a firearm.

The event shook him so much that he called the Jersey City Police Department. The New Jersey Spew published the JCPD's report/opinion of the incident:

"To quell the rumor concerning a reported shooting today, I want to offer this brief explanation. We responded to a report of a shooting at a local home. Officer Cox arrived on scene first and was flagged down by a mustached male who stated he believed he'd been shot in the left buttock while in his room.

"During the course of the investigation, it was determined that the 'victim' had been drinking copious amounts of Mad Dog 20/20 as a thunderstorm passed through the area. The loud thunder scared the dog ... causing it to nip the 'victim' in the left buttock. He believed he'd been shot and subsequently called the police. He was treated at the scene by EMS and released."

When asked to make a statement, Ron said "that damned mutt got spooked by thunder and took a piece out of my ass!"

This is not the first time the JCPD has been called to Ron's house for an odd occurrence. "Frankly, we're sick of these repeated shenanigans," said a police official who wished to remain anonymous.

Posted by Bittle at 11:14 AM

February 07, 2017


Violets are blue
Roses are red
We're doing this backwards
That's what she said!

Posted by Bittle at 11:46 AM

January 20, 2017

Inauguration Day 2017


Happy Inauguration Day 2017 from the Ronatarian Party! Remember that you "the People" didn't vote for Ron and put an non-mustachioed spray-tanned buffoon in the White House.

Don't blame us!

Posted by Bittle at 07:54 AM

January 10, 2017


A fellow who drank to excess
Got to work in a state of undress:
Wore no shirt and no shoes,
Had a briefcase of booze
And, quite tipsy, said "Dress to impress."

(Madeleine Begun Kane)

Posted by Bittle at 08:48 AM

December 24, 2016


'Twas the night before Christmas, and God it was neat
The kids were both gone, and my wife was in heat

The doors were all bolted, and the phone off the hook
It was time for some nooky, by hook or by crook

Momma in her teddy, and I in the nude
Had just hit the bedroom and reached for the lube

When out on the lawn there arose such a cry
That I lost my boner and poor Momma went dry

Up to the window I sprang like an elf
Tore back the shade while she played with herself

The moon on the crest of the snowman we'd built
Showed a broom up his ass, clean up to the hilt

When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a rusty old sleigh and eight mangy reindeer

With a fat little driver, half out of his sled
A sock in his ear, and a bra on his head

Sure as I'm speaking, he was as high as a kite
And he yelled to his team, but it didn't sound right

Whoa Shithead, whoa Asshole, whoa Stupid, whoa Putz
Either slow down this rig or I'll cut off your nuts

Look out for the lamp post, and don't hit the tree
Quit shaking the sleigh, 'cause I gotta go pee

They cleared the old lamp post, the tree got a rub
Just as Santa leaned out and barfed on my shrub

And then from the roof we heard such a clatter
As each little reindeer now emptied its bladder

I was donning my jacket to cover my ass
When down the chimney Santa came with a crash

His suit was all smelly with perfume galore
He looked like a bum and he smelled like a whore

That was some brothel, he said with a smile
The reindeer are pooped, I'll just stay here awhile

He walked to the kitchen, himself poured a drink
Then whipped out his pecker and pissed in the sink

I started to laugh, my wife smiled with glee
The old boy was hung nearly down to his knee

Back in the den, Santa reached in his sack
But his toys were all gone, and some new things were packed

The first thing he found was a pair of false tits
The next was a handgun with a penis that spits

A box filled with condoms was Santa's next find
And a sixpack of panties, the edible kind

A bra without nipples, a penis extension
And several other things that I shouldn't even mention

A cock ring, a G-string, and all types of oil
A dildo so long, it lay in a coil

This stuff ain't for kids, Mrs. Santa will shit
So I'll leave 'em here, and then I'll just split

He filled every stocking and then took his leave
With one tiny butt plug tucked under his sleeve

He sprang to his sleigh, but his feet were like lead
Thus he fell on his ass and broke wind instead

In time he was seated, took the reins of his hitch
Take me home Rudolph, this night's been a bitch!

The sleigh was near gone when we heard Santa shout
The best thing about sex is that it never wears out!


Posted by Bittle at 02:45 PM