Tom DeLay’s spokesman Kevin Madden has been tireless in his devotion to brewing a big batch of indignation over yesterday’s Washington Post story.

I don’t know about you, but I sure do find comfort when I hear that Hot Tub Tom was busy spreading the twin beacons of Christianity and capitalism to those godless communists of Moscow.

I can well imagine it was probably Madden himself who leaked the secret Russian diaries documenting the Hammer’s visit to Sin City, a testament to the earnest piety of the one they call the Bug Man:

Day 4

I don’t wake up until nightfall. We have a fine dinner at a restaurant called "Mario’s." Local embassy rep joins us. I’m at the table with IMF reps, World Bank rep, someone from Exxon, says he knows me from Houston. …

We leave Mario’s and head to an American-style bar in the center of town. It’s called the "Hungry Duck." I like that name. The club is full of promising pro-American youths who are resisting old Communist ways. Several freedom-loving young Russian girls are dancing on the bar top. The IMF rep and World Bank rep hoist me up. Turns out these girls are guides. O sweet Jesus! They strip their tops off and strip my top off. Great music, song called "Alice" which I love. Just as they’re undoing their short skirts, IMF rep says to me, "You know Tom, Russia really needs to keep the aid money flowing. Otherwise democracy and Christian values are in danger."

I tell him to get the fuck away from my guides or I’ll strangle him with his own shoelaces. "And I won’t make it a slow death either, you sleazy fucking prick," I tell him.

Vodka, whiskey, liquor…One guide falls off the bar top and cuts her lip. We go into a booth near the back, where awful things happened. Left club at 7am.

Day 5

I wake up around midnight. I don’t want to move from my bed. Order a burger and fries from room service. Yell at the room service kid. Then I feel awful, give him a Hershey’s bar.

"Sopeezda," I say to him. He blushes. "Sopeezda!" I say. He blushes and runs out. I follow after him. Bastard is stonewalling me. I head down to the lobby bar. "Sopeezda! Sopeezda!" The guards comfort me. I scream "Sopeezda!" and create a scene. They tell me they understand, and lead me up to my room. About thirty minutes later, after praying, there’s a knock on my door. Two guides are there waiting for me. They enter my room, and we discuss golf and charitable contributions.

Are you thinking what I’m thinking — DeLay Family Values Tour 2006?

He can skip Uzbekistan though. They’re already quite good at manifesting