Woodward Makes
For a Better Heading than Mark Felt Does
Ann Coulter
(Archive)
June 9,
2005 |
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My only regret is that Mark Felt did not rat out Nixon because he was ticked
off about rapprochement with China or detente with the Soviets.
Uggh. That's a heck of an awkward opening
sentence, but it's the best I can think of on the topic. I always say if you
can't grab them with your first few words, you've lost the cause. Let me
give it another try.
June 9,
2005 |
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Do you ever wonder if Mark felt like a rat for betraying
Most people can't even pronounce
rapprochement, much less spell it. Mark Felt was one of these.
Rapprochement with China was not the
cause of Mark Felts disloyalty, nor was detente with the Soviets
June 9,
2005 |
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Mark Felt was a rat bastard and Bob Woodward licked away the smelly drops of
betrayal from his putrid soul like they were made of honey. You would think
that maybe the second in command at the FBI would have some honorable motive
for his foul deed - maybe detente with the soviets, say, or rapprochement
with China, but no, it was all about the Benjamins. Just like modern day
Judas Richard Clarke, Felt was upset because he didn't get a job promotion.
'Me me me," you can hear him whine. 'I wanna be FBI director.
Wahhh!'
Oh god, what an insufferable old fool. I only
hope that he has enough brain cells left to read my column and befoul his
Depends in utter shame. Because of you, Mark Felt, millions of Cambodians
and Vietnamese were tortured and slaughtered. Lei e' un cafone stronzo.
Because of you, we suffered through Gerald Ford before descending into the
fiery pit of hell known as the presidency of Jimmy Carter. Tua madre si da
per niente! You destroyed the triumphant presidency of Richard Nixon. I was
only a teenager when he was in office, but let me tell you, I really loved
Dick. Even in high school, I worshipped Dick. Vada via in culo, Mark Felt!
I'd like to talk about your daughter for a
minute, old man. What a piece of work she was, your little free-love,
flower-child, pot-smoking, piece sign waving girl of yours. Don't you dare
correct my language. I said piece sign and I meant piece sign. Your little
Joan (ironically she looks like another famous blonde Joan - Joan Rivers. Do
you think maybe all Joans are hags?)
didn't believe in conventional bourgeois
institutions like marriage, and just raised babies willy-nilly on her own.
Now she's all broke and sad and doesn't have any recourses left but to put
her old man out in the field and hope that he turns into a cash cow. Suffer
and die old man, suffer and die.
[How many words is that? Only three hundred
thirty? Merda! What do you mean Italian words don't count, pompinaio? The
Committee said I could use anything but French! Okay, okay, bastardo.]
Look, I've just got one more thing to say. I
hate Mark Felt. Now I'm changing the topic to The Committee. Do you know
this is the third straight week that they've jerked me around? I just
checked Town Hall, and
everybody else is writing about Howard and Hillary Clinton. That's right,
I've got the 411 on the little affair between Dean and that skag. Yeah,
doesn't that sound nice and juicy. Wouldn't you love to hear what I know
about old Doctor Dean and the forest goat?
Well, too bad, you'll just have to wait
because the goddam Committee gave me the wrong talking points once again,
and I've been sitting here writing about some old coot who hasn't done
anything more exciting than drool since the invention of Nintendo.
Screw The Committee. I've had it with you,
Rush, you and your big time radio show, you and your Excellence in
Broadcast, I know you're the ringleader here. Very funny, pill popper.
O'Reilly, you don't even deserve to be on the same airspace as me. You're
soft. Soft! I get it, oh I get it all right - you all want me to be the team
mascot, The Committee's blonde bimbo. Forget it. I'll get my own TV show and
I will be number one. I'm teaming up with Laura Ingram and Michelle
Malkin and we'll form our own committee, and maybe we'll just get Ben
Shapiro as our team mascot. And a special message for you, Hannity. I
slept with Alan Colmes, and he's better than you. |
