Fried Green al-Qaedas



  Fried Green al-Qaedas
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Thursday, July 21, 2005

A Shocker Dons Her Cleats
Ann Coulter (Archive)

July 21, 2005 | printer friendly version Print | email to a friend Send



This is a shocking column, even coming from me, so I suggest that anyone who has not yet learned to think for themselves to stop reading this moment. Go on. Scoot. Get the hell out of here. Go listen to Neal Boortz yammer on about something, not Ann Coulter. I'm sizzling. I'm red hot and ready to rock. I'm controversial at my least, and blue electric at my most.

As is my wont, I'm calling things exactly like I see them. And I see OJ. 'Seeing OJ' is currently a hip term among all the young conservative cognoscenti. It means an act of moral cowardice. When one hears another lie filled proclamation spewing forth from the deranged delusions of dirty Dick Durbin, what else is there to say but 'I see OJ'.

After months (that darn Rehnquist!) of pretending to consider women and other minorities for the Supreme Court, President Bush has decided to mess with the minds of everyone everywhere by nominating a white male. And a boring no-name white male at that. Look closely.  I see OJ.

John G Roberts. A white guy, hoo hah. That means he can't dance, doesn't like fried chicken, and unlike me, doesn't even know who JZ is. Shinoozle, girlfriend, yo bang on it.

What else they ta know bout da cracker What else do we know about John Roberts? Nada. Big zero. Pasta fazool He's a blank slate. Tabula rasa. White board. He's argued cases before the Supreme Court. Big deal; so have I.

The fact that I don't know this guy speaks volumes. You know Judge Souter? The ugly little guy who looks like Pat Paulson, and always stands in the back of the group photos? Yeah. We didn't know anything about him when Bush's equally limp-wristed daddy put him on the court and he turned into a flaming liberal. You know the only way to stop a flaming liberal? Throw a bucket of water on them. Hee hee.

What's his name again? John Roberts. So many questions. Does he trust democracy? Can he make a cherry pie? He looks pretty good, but can he drive a girl wild with just one touch? Does he live in a small, rough-hewn cabin in the woods of New Hampshire and avoid "women folk"? Because guys like that are really creepy, all politics aside.  If he were trapped on a desert island with just one blonde constitutional scholar, who would it be? Me or Brad Pitt? The answer to these questions would go a long way to determining his potential effectiveness on the court.

It means less than nothing that Roberts wrote briefs arguing for the repeal of Roe v. Wade when he worked for Republican administrations. I mean, duh. That was his job, wasn't it? The question is whether or not he would choose to abort his own baby, or the baby of his significant other. Or insignificant other. I don't know anything about the man. Emperor caveat. Look what he said in the footnotes

"In the interest of full disclosure, the author...  [snip] ... do not necessarily reflect his views as an advocate for his former client, the United States."

And here is the connection which ties my whole column together. Those weasel words are the legal equivalent of, if like after O.J.'s acquittal,  Johnnie Cochran was to say, "Hey, I never said the guy was innocent. I was just doing my job." Think about it. I SEE OJ! (Do you know what OJ's last words were to Nichole? Your waiter will be with you in a minute! Hee hee).

So, anyway, what do you think of them apples? Here we are with a majority in the Senate. We also have a majority in the House, state legislatures, state governorships, and our Republican president tosses us a nobody! Let me just remind you that I Was Available, And I'm Not A Nobody! Not only am I the living embodiment of conservative ideology, but the boys all tell me I'm pretty easy on the eyes. So yeah, I'm against the president's nominee. Why shouldn't I be? When Demoncrats like Hairy Reid say that Roberts is 'in the ballpark', I'm understandably worried that I might meet OJ on the playing field.


1:59:17 PM    comment []

Guest Blogger: Simon Lavitagus


Scott has a birthday party

I guess by now you think this guy is the only inmate here in the prison worth writing about.  Most of these guys aren’t all that funny.

Earlier this week Scott showed me a calendar with the 12th circled.  I checked the computer to verify that it was his birthday and that he would be 38 this year.  This will be the only easy part of this story.  When I asked him how old he was, he never gave me a real answer.  I hold up both hands with four fingers on each signifying 44.  He nodded “yes”.  I also held up 28, 35, 38 and other numbers and he agreed on each one.  Well maybe he can’t count that high?  One unhappy inmate watching this exchange noted: “try his I.Q, using one hand”.  Smart-ass...he’s just mad that he doesn’t get the same amount of attention.  I wasn’t in the mood for too much foolery, as I had just spoken at length to four inmate’s mothers this week who all accused us of being mean to their little darlings.  That’s another story perhaps.

The word soon got out that it was Scott’s birthday.  So the next day he shows up with a lit candle sticking in the taco we served for lunch.  “Where did you get that candle?” several of us tried to ask.  Scott got mad and frustrated because I guess he thought we would take it away from him.  A little birthday candle is not what we consider a major contraband item.  I got my chief of security onto the investigation.  So we surround him with several staff for the interrogation.  “Woowoowoo” was his initial response.  Finally I think he understood that we were not mad nor were we going to take his candle away. Also present during the interrogation was the inmate clerk who has known Scott for years.  He told us that Scott has had that candle in his possession for over ten years. Scott finally signed that the Warden gave him the candle.  Ah ha!  The mystery is solved.  Stupid me decided to ask the warden about this.   A bit of history:  The Warden brought Scott with him when he transferred here over ten years ago when we opened up a basic skills unit for inmates with “issues”.  They were called Jerry’s kids unofficially.  Anyway, When I asked the Warden if he gave Scott the candle, he gave me that look.  “Is he trying to burn someone?”  No, we were just curious; sorry I asked.  Ok, it wasn’t the Warden.  Back to the interrogation room.  The next day we sweated more information out of him.  It was either Bob, a former counselor or a blond female with a moustache who had given him the candle. We all know Bob, but the hirsute blond is still a mystery.  Since Bob and I are roadies (prison slang for friends) I called him and asked if this was possible. He said that the crazy nun who doubled as a mental health program specialist back then would pull stunts like birthday parties. We decided to call this mystery solved.

On day three of this birthday mystery I was called by my chief of security to come to the unit.  When I asked what was going on, I was simply told that I needed to see something.  I like a mystery, but not at work.  I could expect anything from a puddle of blood to a stolen ink pen.  When I arrived, there was Scott wearing a ridiculous looking dunce like hat with “birthday boy” written on it.  He was sure proud of this hat that someone had made for him.  Some people like attention even if it is negative.  The whole unit watched in amusement as I had to pretend that this was a normal occurrence.  I gave up and joined in the party.  In order to get into the proper spirit, I later found a few stale cookies and wrapped them up in some fancy paper left over from Christmas and gave Scott his birthday party.  I did this in his cell so the other inmates would not see this and accuse me of special treatment and file grievances.  Scott thanked me and added it to the pile he had already amassed on his bunk.  And by the way, they served catfish again that evening. 

The Simon Lavitagus Archives
 


12:20:35 PM    comment []



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