It seems like it wasn’t so long ago that Andrew Breitbart was “pallin’ around” with James O’Keefe doing guy things like whoring out Motel Messiah Doug Giles’ daughter to catch negroes, because that is what best buds do when they’re not playing drinking games until one of them  passes out and then the other uses a Sharpie to draw a penis on his face. If you are unaware of this man ritual , it is because you were never an Eagle Scout.

Like James O’Keefe.

Anyway, later on when James got a little stupider than usual and was caught playing Junior Watergate v.2010 at Mary Landrieu’s office, Brietbart still stuck up for him and provided  him a soapbox because, hey, if you don’t stand up for your buddies when they’re caught fucking the cow, well what kind of friend are you, huh? Hunh?

But then this morning Andrew learned that James was going to put on a smoking jacket, splash on a little eau de Rohypnol (by Prince Matchabelli), maybe play a little Careless Whisper or Everybody Have Fun Tonight (Everybody  Wang Chung Tonight) and go all It Ain’t The Meat, It’s The Motion of the Ocean on some CNN journoharlot aboard his private fancy dildo yacht: The Lubesitania.

Without inviting Andrew!

Needless to say, but I’ll say it anyway because I am helpful that way, this went well past “fucking the cow” territory and  into the “fucking the cow and then proposing a three-way with the sheep” hinterlands, and so, this very night, before the rooster crows, you Andrew will deny three times that you he even know(s) me James. And any inference that  Andrew does may be actionable:

This is the way a bromance ends
This is the way a bromance ends
This is the way a bromance ends
Not with a bang, but a twitter